#other than…the family at church has now earned enough of my trust that. they’re now seeing More than my kindness

[void-tiger]

I think I’m just. Accepting that I’m pretty polarizing. I don’t really change, beyond trying to do the self-work of Always Kinder, Always More Accepting & Openminded, Always Braver, Always Learn Better Tact—y’know, those sorts of things. Putting in the effort to grow and maintain my growth and learning to cultivate a better relationship with myself than the one forced upon me.

But. That get’s back to I am polarizing.

Either I am—apparently—universally liked (uh, what the hell?!) or very much on the outs. Ostracized or Scapegoated or outright Targeted. Singled out.

Either I—apparently—inspire others to be kinder by being kind to them, and silently challenge them (or more directly 1:1) to be kind to themselves or “that’s actually not funny, I know you’re better than this.” Or…singling me out is what a group can all agree on.

But when I leave in either scenario, whatever dynamic a group has…falls apart. For better or for worse. But I also know my own family often get waspish with me over something I had no involvement with or snap at me for “judging” them when…I literally didn’t say anything. (I’m not allowed to have my own opinion with them anyway so why bother.) My efforts to be helpful and affirming and often hiding away the intensity of my emotions and stress with them and from them…don’t matter.

I either inspire others

Or I get under their skin

And there’s NO Tolerance for me not just…taking it. Being anything less than Perfect. While still hated for it.

Or placed on a pedestal but also locked in a glass case to gather dust from neglect.

…there’s really only. Once. When someone in-person and their family has pretty much seen the full spectrum of things with me. And stuck around anyway. But I still get under their skin. But…this time…I swear I’m seeing evidence of them doing self-improvement (although the one I have the greatest pull towards (brain wHY?! CHILL!!) got pretty self-flagellating about it. Hopefully they’ve chilled out about it—they’re kind, they accepted the full spectrum when my masking utterly failed. They made me laugh and with that actually start to FEEL again. Their own ambition inspired me to just. TRY again. And that is precious to me.)

And…yeah. That’s really all I’ve ever wanted: to be accepted enough for others IRL to want to care about me back.

I’m tired of being a used bandaid.

[niennavalier]

AC: Rogue - Second Chances

Summary: He's not an Assassin anymore - Shay has no doubts about that. He's less sure where that leaves him in the world, or in the context of this centuries-long war between Assassins and Templars. But when he's presented with a second chance - from a Templar, no less - he has to question all that he's done in the past. And all that he'll do in the future.

Character study set during AC: Rogue Sequence 3-1 "The Color of Right".

(Also posted on AO3)

*****

Shay isn’t sure what he’d been expecting. There’s little he remembers of the moment after being shot, aside from perhaps accepting his fate, knowing that, at the very least, he’d stopped the Assassins from leveling more cities. But he hadn’t expected to wake up at all, much less in a comfortable home and cared for by a kindly couple.

He’d not thought that he could be surprised by much else, but then Mrs. Finnegan - Cassidy - had handed him some clothing, and now, dressing himself, he can’t help but think.

They were our son's . Those words - they keep circling through his head as he readjusts the coat, finishes tightening his belt. Because he can't keep the thought from his mind.

The Finnegans' son - he'd been a Templar.

He'd not wanted to believe it at first, seeing the crosses at his shoulders, telling himself it was something else, something he'd seen elsewhere. It wasn't the Templar cross, and the couple who'd taken him in and cared for him as their own - they weren't Templars. They weren’t the same people he’d spent years fighting.

But pulling the strap for his rifle over his shoulder, the other cross settling on top of his heart, it’s not something he can deny. Somehow, he’s certain of it; whether the Finnegans are Templars themselves, their son had been.

And now he’s wearing the lad’s clothes. It’s something that makes him all the more aware of the hidden blades at his wrists - nothing feels quite right about any of this. Not that he can do much about it.

Sighing and shaking the thoughts from his head for now, he takes the time to tie his hair away from his face and happens to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Looking as he does, he has no doubt his younger self would've thought him a Templar himself, some fanatic obsessed with order. With his weapons returned, he looks every bit a man ready to fight for all that he’d once fought against . Though it's not like he has much choice; he doubts his old clothes had survived the ordeal.

He's not mourning their loss, though. It's a sudden realization, and one he wasn’t expecting to have, but he hadn't been eager to don the hood again. And he still isn't, perhaps would never be. Stranger still, it's not a thought he can bring himself to regret.

Wearing the uniform of the people he’d called enemies is unsettling, but as his last memories of the Homestead flash through his mind - all those he’d called friends, called family , suddenly turned against him - he’s certain that wearing his own robes would’ve been worse.

As he steps back into the main room, though, it’s like none of that even matters. The way Cassidy’s eyes light up - “Oh, well don’t you look a right gentleman!” - it fills him with something warm that he can’t remember when he last felt. Warmth. Family. Feeling like he doesn’t have to work to earn affection, the way he suspects it feels to have parents, despite never properly knowing his own.

Perhaps it shouldn’t feel as novel as it does, but he can’t help freezing on the spot. How is he meant to respond to that?

So he doesn't respond, at least, not directly. He asks about the Manuscript - lost, apparently, and some mix of relief and anger flares in his chest. Good, better that no one can get their hands on the damned thing. Good-hearted folk like these - they wouldn't be caught in the crossfire ever again. He'd see to that.

***

He's not expecting it when a man approaches him from behind, the cross on his sash - a Templar cross, it must be - the first and only thing Shay sees. His hand is reaching back for his pistols before he even realizes it - trust isn't something he's keen on having in spades for now.

"Be at ease, Master Cormac, we are friends.” Doubtful. But the man does know his name, somehow, even if Shay can’t guess why. Does he also know -? He must. This dance they’re doing - it’s too familiar. Both of them know what the other is (or rather, was , Shay supposes). He’d have to tread carefully; he has no idea what this Templar wants with him. “The Finnegans were worried you might take matters into your own hands. I am Colonel George Monro.”

Shay nods, the safest thing he can think to do. “Colonel.” The Finnegans, he’s willing to trust, and the Colonel knowing them might have meant something had their son not also been a Templar. As it stands, the connection means little.

“I came to help, but it seems I am late. Thank you for dealing with these foul criminals.” He eyes the gang leader (the Assassin-trained gang leader) Shay had killed just minutes earlier. “They were a blight on New York.”

The words are quick to rub him wrong. “What do you care?” For all Shay might agree about the gangs, he’d yet to meet a British officer who gave a damn about the colonists. Much less one who was a Templar, besides. “You Redcoats are nothing but landlords. The townsfolk here are grinding away, trying to make a living.” And for what, really?

“I cannot blame you for having that impression.” Of course he can’t. It’s true, and Shay had seen it himself. The restrictions keeping merchants from trading as they pleased, the dangers and hardships braved by the colonists only for their earnings to line the pockets of the Crown. It’s the truth, not just an impression. “Some of my comrades have been less than helpful. But I take a different approach.”

“And what is that?” The words are bitter on his tongue.

“I care. I want to see these colonists safe and prosperous.” Years of training are screaming in his head not to trust this man. That he's just another Templar snake who's willing to say anything if it gets him his way. There's no way for Shay to know if he means any of the things coming out of his mouth.

"Noble words." But were any of them true? He’d naively thought others as righteous as the Colonel made himself out to be, and they’d all proven otherwise.

"Perhaps actions will convince you otherwise, Master Cormac." The Colonel gestures for him to lead the way, and he hesitates for a moment - it's a trick, it has to be - before thinking deeper on it. Betrayal still lingers in his mind, learning that the people he’d called his family cared more about ancient artifacts than they did him, or the thousands of innocent lives on the line. He knows now that they must have lied to him all along, and, really, were they all that different from the Templars? Now, he’s not an Assassin anymore, and that’s not enough to change any of what he believes about the Templars, but it’s enough to make him think.

Perhaps he could hear the Colonel out, if nothing else. At worst, his beliefs would be confirmed yet again. At best…

He's not ready yet to think there can be a better outcome.

***

“You can do great things for this city and its citizens. After all, a man needs purpose.” Those are the last words he hears from the Colonel before the man takes his leave, and they cut into him deeper than he'd like to admit. Though it's not for a bad reason of any sort. The way he explains himself - Shay can't help but feel like he can trust him. Perhaps because it sounds like the Colonel trusts him in return, despite having never met, and the two of them having stood on opposite sides. There's more than a chance that it should worry him, but instead it makes him think of something else - the orders and harsh reprimands from the Assassins. He'd known none of them (save maybe Liam) had ever really trusted him or his skills, but he'd not thought that much of it at the time. Assumed it was normal, being that he'd been the newest one there, but now, the way the Colonel was talking to him, he's starting to rethink that. Perhaps starting to resent that, too, whether he likes it or not.

It’s a selfish reason to make any kind of decision, and he knows as much, refreshing as all of it might feel. It’s not something he’d act on alone - he’s already seen what blind faith and desperation can do, and who can pay the price of death and destruction as a result. Lisbon flashes through his mind, as clear as if it’d happened yesterday. Screams of pain and terror still ring in his ears as smoke and sulfur make his eyes and nose sting, heat from the flames burning his cheeks. His rib smarts, and for a moment, he thinks it’s from tumbling through a crumbling building, crashing against walls and floors and furniture, not from falling off a cliff at the Homestead.

He forces himself to breathe and shakes the memories from his mind. That’s what he can’t let happen again. That’s what he has to make right, no matter what it takes.

And so he can't help but feel drawn in by all the things Colonel Monro said, about just doing right by the people. Making their lives better, not through freedom or control - not through the Assassins or Templars - but just by helping where they can.

As badly as he wants to remain skeptical, he can’t find a problem in that, at least.

But he still stands and watches for some time after that, wanting to see for himself. He stays along the sidelines as the citizens of New York wander by, their eyes turning bright as they hear that the old building is to be restored. From their conversations, he learns that the place had once been a church, left to disrepair now with the threat of war hanging over them. And seeing it ready to be restored - it visibly fills them with hope, and that lights something warm in his chest. Something that he's not sure when he felt last.

It reminds him of the way he’d felt when he’d first joined the Assassins, hopeful, and like he was finally sure of what he was doing. But he’d been a fool, then - he knows that, now - and hadn’t known that he’d hurt far more people than he’d help.

He can't say where he stands when it comes to the Assassins and Templars, to the endless war he'd fought in without ever really understanding it, but he's always trusted himself to know what's right. And this - seeing the lives of normal, everyday folk made easier - he can feel is right.

And for now, perhaps that would be enough.

He can accept that much, and knows he should head back to the Finnegans - all else aside, he trusts them. But as he winds through the familiar streets of his home, he can't help but think on the Colonel's offer. The man may be a Templar, but what he's offering - this way to just help people - it feels like a second chance. Like a way to start atoning for all the lives lost in Lisbon. Exactly what the Assassins wouldn't allow him to do.

Perhaps… perhaps this is the way forward. He may not be fully ready to trust the man yet, for all that he seems honorable, but doing some good for the people of the city, protecting them against those who would do them harm - that much, he would do.

[murderousginger]

She’s A God

Peaky blinder fic Tommy x reader

Masterlist

Warnings: Sass. Alcohol. They’re criminals guys, they do bad things.

Word count: 4,183

You often kept your head down at the office, typing up your work as a secretary in the Shelby Company Limited. You knew the kind of people you worked for and didn't want blue eyes interested in you unless it was an offhand comment on a good job on a task. 

One such pair of eyes passed you on the way to his office with a murmur of your name and the same as he passed Lizzie, whose desk was directly in front of his door. Tommy Shelby was very polite and quiet in the office, unlike his brothers.

"Good morning, Mr. Shelby," you said back as you ducked your head.

You dressed modestly in hopes to be overlooked, unlike some of the other women that were employed there. You would see their hungry eyes on Peaky men and the hope that they would catch attention. Sometimes they did. Moments spent in offices would occur before they were all but patted on the ass and sent back to their seats, their satisfied faces would turned back to their work. You never faulted those women but you weren't one for a tryst, especially one that could endanger you.

Today, you let your mind wander as you typed your work. Today, Tommy Shelby had placed invitations to his housewarming party on all of the desks in the office.

Everyone knew the Shelby family history like it was Small Heath lore.

From a young age, Tommy had decided he didn't believe in God. As a small boy with a hungry family, a dead mother, and a runaway father, he concluded pretty quickly that even if there was a God, he stopped stepping into Small Heath long before Tommy was born. 

Polly had taken the Shelby siblings in to raise when she was young and had a small family of her own. She ruled the house over the Shelby children and her own two with an iron voice and a quick hand. She worked while her husband drank away their money and she often put herself between him and the children when he decided to become violent. She had worked tirelessly to feed and clothe the kids, pushing them to get through as much schooling as they could in hopes for a better life. She stayed strong when her husband died, and fought to keep the kids and raise eight children by herself. She lost her children but managed to keep the Shelby's close.

She watched Tommy, Arthur and John work together to start the Peaky Blinders and provide protection for pay to Small Heath businesses. She sewed in the first razorblades into the boys caps, overseeing their attempts at replicating her work when they needed more for the neighborhood boys they recruited. 

She watched Arthur, then Tommy, then John, all enlist and leave for France, once bright boys with mischief in their eyes and dreams in their heads come back from war scarred, tempered, and broken. She hesitantly released the Peaky Blinders leadership to Tommy, slipping between soldier and advisor when it suited her. 

Everyone knew that Tommy Shelby might not have thought to fear God, but he feared his Aunt Polly. 

During your employment, you noticed that fear translated rather easily to respect of strong, intelligent women now he was an adult. It's not that Tommy disrespected women he didn't find intelligent, it was more that he shook them off once they lost their usefulness. Pretty women were to be looked at but rarely stayed around. Weak women were quickly discarded if they came around at all. The Shelby's were not known to be sensitive. But an intelligent woman? She was worth her weight in gold if she could be trusted.

Few outside of direct family were trusted. Wives -- if they lived long enough and proved helpful at family meetings -- and for a reason you did not understand, Lizzie Stark. 

You and Lizzie were friendly enough to each other. Not exactly best friends, but you would both take lunch together and enjoy each other's company from time to time. Too many women were jealous of Lizzie because of the moments she was called into Tommy's office and the shades were drawn. 

You pitied her. Not because of what she agreed to do with Tommy Shelby behind closed doors, but because you weren't sure the man had a heart that would ever open to a woman. You noticed the glances Lizzie would give him from time to time, and you felt for her. 

"Are you coming to Tommy's housewarming tonight?"

You jumped, shaken from the thoughts in your head, and saw Lizzie sitting on the edge of your desk looking down at you expectantly. 

"I'm not sure…" you trailed.

"Come with me, please!" Lizzie smiled, touching your shoulder. "It'll be a night of a free meal and flowing alcohol. We can take a car together. It'll be fun!"

"Are you not staying?" You immediately blushed as Lizzie shrunk back, her face pinched at the question. "No! Not like that. It's just… I wasn't sure if you would stay the night."

You tried to backtrack, to soften your question. 

"No, no, I know," Lizzie said with a soft smile as she shook off your comment. "I'm not staying. He's… not been visiting."

She let the comment hang before her eyes lit up again and she grabbed your hand.

"Though we both could stay. He's got plenty of rooms and offered refuge for anyone that comes and has a little too much fun."

"I'm not sure…" you looked back at your work and then back to Lizzie. 

"Have a little fun once in your life," she goaded. "You're always so serious and proper. Relax a little."

"I guess if it's one night," you said, nervously eyeing your work. You let go of her and resumed typing. Lizzie laughed and got off of the corner of your desk, pointing to you.

"Wear a nice dress," she said. "I'll be in a car to get you this evening. We'll go together. It'll be fun." 

You smiled and nodded. It wasn't that you didn't want to have fun. You were just wound up tighter than most. And although you lived in Small Heath your entire life, the Blinders were something you were leery of. 

You were used to being overlooked. You were comfortable that way. You weren't looking for attention and definitely didn't want it from men that were known to be dangerous. They might not be violent toward women on the streets but there were plenty of beaten wives behind closed doors in Birmingham and you wanted no part. You cared little for a husband. Your goal was independence. 

You took this job to remove yourself from your father's household. After years of him coming back from the factory or more typically The Garrison to beat you and your mother, you finally had enough. After a short time of saving, you bought board at a house and began to save what you could toward your own cottage. These were modern times and you put everything into being a modern woman. 

But one night wouldn't hurt your plans, and you had an idea on exactly which dress to wear.

----

You went home a mix between excited and worried. Your head raced with thoughts of who all would come, what would be served, would you catch someone's eye? Did you want to? How many blinders would be mixed into the crowd? Would it be dangerous? What if it was boring?

You smoothed your dress as you looked into the mirror and assessed your reflection. The flowy sage dress was covered in antique gold lace and made you feel divine. The green silk fabric made up the shift and the delicate lace covered the green fabric and your arms with sheer long sleeves. The dress itself stopped halfway up your calves, leaving a little skin and plenty of space to see your simple heels.

You had coveted it the moment you saw it in the window and bought it against your better judgement. One nice thing wouldn't hurt the goal of a cottage, you reasoned at the time. It was the nicest dress you had ever owned and now you had a reason to wear it. 

Lizzie arrived in a car outside your building and all but pulled you out of your door when you answered it, laughing as you fought back to close the door behind you. 

"Come on, (Y/N)," she laughed. "We can't be late. All the fun will be over."

You giggled as you both stumbled down your stairs and toward the car. You gawked at how short Lizzie's burgundy dress was, nearly above her knee, when you both sat down in the back seat. She smiled slyly as she noticed you look.

"Do you like it?" She asked, pulling on the beading. "I'm told it's the newest fashion in London." 

Lizzie's smile fell as you looked between your dress and hers, biting your lip.

"Your dress is gorgeous, too," she said as her smile widened and she dipped her head to meet your eyes. "Tonight's all a bit of fun. There will be all types of people in all types of dress. I bet you anything Shelly will be wearing something scandalous in attempts to gain Arthur's eye."

You both laughed. You nodded as you took her hand. 

"Or Mrs. May in something frumpy and terribly sized as she glares at the rest of us," you add, earning new fits of laughter.

"Ladies of this age have no respect for themselves," Lizzie mocked, her voice low and raspy. "You all look like you should be on your back near the canal."

"She would know, wouldn't she?" You snorted. "Acts like no one knew who she was before her marriage. Mum said she used to work the docks. Now she helps the church on Sundays."

Lizzie rolled her eyes. 

"I'll never understand women that can't accept their own past," she said. 

"That's why I appreciate you," you smiled, bumping her shoulder. "You don't pretend you're something that you're not."

"I'll leave the pretending for the rich folk," she mused as she leaned back on you. "Thank you for not being as judgmental as some of the other girls are."

You shrugged. 

"Not my place to judge."

----

The house was massive. You both audibly gasped as you turned into his drive and saw the house at the end of it. There was so much land. The driver entered the circle drive with the other cars, waiting until he reached the peak to stop for a young man to open the door and take Lizzie's hand. Another rounded the car and opened the door for you, tilting his flat cap with a "ma'am" as you allowed him to help you out of the car. 

You took his arm with a murmured thanks and he led you to the door. You and Lizzie both stood in the entryway wide-eyed as the chandelier glowed above you. There were already dozens of guests and more poured in behind you. Some were people you knew from work, while others had the signature cap, and even more were strangers dressed in far nicer clothes than yours. You started to grow uneasy in the chaos. 

Lizzie took your arm in hers and urged you to move forward, taking two glasses off of a tray and thrusting one into your hands. 

"Smile," she laughed, sipping her own drink. "This is a night to relax."

You nod numbly, downing your drink to calm your nerves. You hear Lizzie burst into laughter beside you as the bubbles fill your head.

Soon enough, Thomas Shelby appeared and everyone hushed, turning their attention to the man that had invited them all. He stood in a doorway, smile tight as he tried to scan the room to look at everyone and no one.

"Welcome, everyone, to my humble abode," Tommy said, eliciting chuckles around the room. "Without you, my business partners, family, and employees, I would not have been able to get this far. If you follow me to the dining room, we'll all have a lovely dinner that my new chef made special for tonight. If it's not to taste, well, he's new."

Everyone laughed and clapped as he turned around, leading everyone to a massive dining room that had a table to fit all of the guests. 

You held onto Lizzie's arm as you both wandered into the room and sat near the middle of the table near some of the other secretaries that came. As you all sat down, maids rushed in with silver platters, first serving Tommy at the head of the table and slowly spreading plates down the sides to his guests. You thanked her as she placed some sort of chicken meal in front of you. 

"Do you think this is Italian or French?" Shelly, who had indeed decided to wear something scandalous, murmured at you. 

"I'd imagine Italian," you murmured back. 

Arthur stood up from his seat at the opposite end of the table and raised his glass. 

"Before we eat, I wanted to raise a glass to my brother," he sounded over the crowd. "For always taking care of us. Now you have something for yourself as well. To Tommy!"

Everyone raised their glasses and toasted before they started in on the food. 

The dinner itself was nice and the food was delicious. You talked amongst the other people around you, mostly the secretaries and a few odd people that had intermingled with the girls. You watched the room quietly but tried to keep your head bowed. 

"I think the boss is watching you," Shelly hissed at your side as she nudged you. "He looks away in his conversation but looks over to you at times."

"Surely not," you said, taking a drink from your glass and casually looking over to Lizzie and the end of the table. "I'm next to Lizzie. He's just looking at her."

"I know he's not looking at me," she fumed. 

"Perhaps you should act less eager," you monotoned. Shelly scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

The thought would not leave your head once it was said, and you grew increasingly nervous. As Tommy stood and asked everyone to meet in another room for drinks and celebrating, you rose with everyone else but felt your throat constrict. As you exited the dining room you nudged Lizzie.

"I think I'm going to find a room and take a breath for a moment," you smiled weakly as she looked at you with concern. "I'm fine, really. The crowd is just working my nerves. I'll take a breath and be right out to join you for another drink."

"As long as you're fine," she smiled and patted your hand. "Come find me when you need me." 

"Of course," you smiled as you slipped the opposite way of the crowd and opened a random door in the hallway. 

You entered what looked like a study room, but twice the size of most that you had seen before. You eyed the library of books to the left of the desk that sat in front of a massive window that overlooked the black night outside.

You took a deep breath and walked toward the bookshelf, running your fingers around the bindings and reading the names. Your nerves started to calm right before you heard the door handle rattle.

Tommy Shelby opened the door to the study and you both froze as you locked eyes. Shock and confusion shadowed his face until he cleared his throat and softly closed the door behind him. He turned back to you with a blank face. You stood frozen beside his bookshelf next to his desk.

"Would you like a whiskey, (Y/N)?" He asked as he rounded the room. "Or have you had plenty already? In vino veritas and all that."

He reached the decant of whiskey across the room from you and brought out two glasses. 

"I don't normally drink, Mr. Shelby," you said shakily. "But since you are my host, thank you."

"You don't care for alcohol?" He asked, his back to you as he poured.

"It makes people do stupid things, in my opinion," you answered. "Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit."

Tommy froze and sat the decanter down, slowly turning to you with his brows gathered between his eyes. 

"What was that?" He said as his head cocked at you. 

You shifted uncomfortably as you leaned back on his desk to steady yourself. 

"It means: 'Of mortal men, none is wise at all times,'" you breathed out as you mirrored his surprised expression. "Did you quote a language without knowing it?"

He licked his lip as he watched you closely, his expression fading back to neutral. He turned to pick up the glasses and squared his body back to you, leaning on the shelf behind him. 

"Latin is old," he said. "I only know a few phrases."

"Perhaps you should know a language before you use it," you said before blushing at your boldness. "Sorry, Mr. Shelby. That was forward."

You watched him fight to keep his expressions under the tranquil stillness of his blank face, but his eyes showed a storm raging in his brain. 

"Forward," he agreed, "but not entirely wrong. 'Lupus non timet canem lantrantem.'"

You laughed at his fumbling of words and quieted when you noticed his eyes harden.

"A wolf might not have to fear a barking dog, Mr. Shelby," you said, gathering the courage you felt rising in your chest as you walked to your boss and lifted the glass of whiskey from his hand. "Auribus teneo lupum. But I seem to be holding a wolf by the ears."

You walked back to your spot and leaned on his desk again. You felt his eyes roam your body as you walked back, and it gave you another shot of courage as you sipped the whiskey.

"I didn't know you were a whore, (Y/N)," he said as he took a drink. "And a learned whore at that. Really should be paying you more as a secretary with that on your resume."

"I'm not a whore."

"Then why are you in my office, eh?" he taunted, running his tongue along the edge of his glass. "I was told I had a whore waiting for me tonight. Want to fuck?"

"I'm not that easy, Mr. Shelby."

"You came tonight with Lizzie, didn't you?" He asked. "You share one occupation but not the other?"

"I've never found a need great enough to do so," you scoffed. "Someone left you misinformed."

He chuckled. 

"So you don't drink excessively, you aren't a whore -- let me guess, you're also a good girl that doesn't gamble?" Tommy eyed you carefully as he lit a cigarette from his breast pocket and inhaled it. "Catholic?"

"I don't bet on fixed races," you said, lowering your eyes as you said it. "I'm not particularly a believer of God. But from my understanding, neither are you."

"All men find religion between a woman's legs," he retorted, a smile spreading across his face as you squirmed. You hummed acknowledgement as you glared at him.

"Morals don't do well in this company," he mused, watching every twitch of movement you made under his gaze. "The only moral I ask for from my employees is loyalty to me."

"I've managed fine," you said. "Not everyone is made for the thick of your businesses."

"Right you are," he hummed. "Only the ambitious."

"Qui totum vult totum perdit," your voice cut through the air. "He who wants everything loses everything."

Tommy squinted at you as his jaw ticked, taking his time to roll the cigarette across his lips. 

"Are you from a rich family, (Y/N)?"

"God no," you barked a laugh. "My father comes home from The Garrison every night. Born and raised in Small Heath, sir."

He visibly relaxed in front of you. His shoulders slouched, but his eyes were still sharp and calculating. 

"Call me Tommy," he shrugged 'sir' off like he was removing dust from a coat. "Work is done. You're my guest. So tell me, how did you come about learning latin then, eh?"

"I've used the library since I was small, sir-- Tommy," you shrugged and watched his eyes light up. 

He covered the crook of a smile by putting his cigarette back to his mouth for another inhale. 

"Small Heath doesn't have a library," he said as he exhaled the smoke, his eyes sharpening as he took a step forward. "Never had the funding."

"I know," you said, biting your lip. "On my free days I walk to Deritend to use their library."

"Quite a walk, isn't it?" He hummed as he took a step closer. 

"Yes, but it makes for a nice day," you shifted in place. "I usually use a little money for lunch and stay til dinner."

"Stay all day in a library?" Tommy smiled and ran a finger over his lip before he let out the smoke. "Shouldn't that make you a teacher instead of a typist for a dirty company?"

You flushed but refused to let your head dip, even though you desperately wanted to cower from the man in front of you. He was weighing you. Tommy Shelby was used to people cowering. You wouldn't give him the pleasure. Not after he already tried demeaning you.

"Teaching requires certificates," you said simply. "I only saved money for one, so typing it was. I like to learn. Keeps my brain busy. Besides," your lip curled at the edge, "I was never fond of helping those that didn't want to better themselves."

"Self taught can go far around here," he said more to himself than you. "Whatever your reason for sneaking into my study, how would you like to be a tutor?"

"To you?" Your eyebrow quirked as you stifled your amusement. 

"My youngest brother, Finn," Tommy said evenly as he shot you a warning look. "He's getting older and I'd like for him to join the business, but reading has never been his sport. If you can get him up to speed, I'll pay you for the time."

"I'm not sure" you drawled, eyes scanning the office as you tried to quickly think of a way out of the deal. 

"The money will be cash, from me," he said, taking another step toward you. He was nearly beside you now. "No need to add it to business expenses or worry about taxes. Just a nice bit of pocket change. You can use it to buy yourself more pretty dresses, eh?"

How eyes dipped to your dress and back to your face. Your eyes widened as your brows dropped and you glared at the man once his words sunk into your bones. You stood up straight and raised your chin.

"Although I appreciate you think this dress is pretty, I have far better ways to spend money, Mr. Shelby," you gritted between your teeth. "I would think the nephew of Polly Gray wouldn't be so flippant with a woman, especially when he's asking her a favor."

"And I would not expect a woman under my employment to backtalk me," he said amused. "What is your goal in life, then, sweetheart? If pretty dresses aren't what you teach yourself Latin for."

You bubbled with anger and fought the words down that wanted to spew from your mouth. 

"You may be my employer, but I will find another if you think I'll allow verbal abuse," you said stiffly. "Perhaps you're so polite and quiet in the office because otherwise you would lose your workforce."

He crossed the remaining distance between you in a stride. You leaned back until you were practically sitting on his desk. His face was inches from yours.

"I didn't get to where I am today by being a gentleman when words don't get my way," he growled as he curled his fingers around your neck.

"I know what you are," you said and felt his hand wrap tighter around your throat until it took effort to raise your voice. 

"And what is that?"

"You don't seem the type in want of a partner," you whispered as you licked your lips and tried to keep eye contact. "You wouldn't force a girl because you don't need to. This is just to scare me. Because you want to. Because you like it."

Tommy chuckled darkly as his eyes looked from your eyes to your lips. 

"Have any latin phrases in your mind now?"

"Dulce periculum," you said. "Danger is sweet."

"That it is, (Y/N)," he said as he caressed your cheek with his other hand. "You can start tutoring Finn tomorrow after your shift. You can use my office if you'd like."

"Yes, Mr. Shelby," you tone as he let go of your neck. 

You never knew you could feel so numb but so electric at the same time. Tommy chuckled, lifting your chin until you met his eyes again. 

"I said call me Tommy, sweetheart."

Part 2

[nuclearuinter]

my dnd characters’ last words

hey so i did a thing and made a tiktok that took me 14+ hours !!!!

i’m really disliking some of the art now but i’ll post it anyways because i did NOT waste almost an entire day (spread out over a few days) trying to make this!!!! >:o

anyways i’ll post the pics in order! i’ll be a bit more in depth about background than i could be on tiktok and on my phone. i will be keeping backstories that will be part of any posted campaigns more vague in order to prevent spoilers in the future! (basically just Toby and Oizys). also disclaimer: none of the deaths are canon, obviously! only the canon deaths would be canon, but no one’s died! (yet) it’s just me trying to fit a scenario into the quote that was generated!

Piety Aureate (she/her), tiefling cleric of light (Pelor) [my first DnD character; cancelled]

“She’s a bit strange, but loyal and caring, regarding her close friends like family.”

Backstory: When she was a baby, her mother was forced to give her up because she was jailed, leaving Piety in an orphanage for most of her young life until she runs away around 12, because she’d spent her whole life there and didn’t think she’d be adopted. While on the run, she gives herself her virtue name. One night, hiding within a church for shelter, she was found by a dragonborn priest named Arjhon. He took her under his wing and earned her trust, adopting her as his own and teaching her the path of light (upon her request, of course). Now she’s set off in search of what had happened to her birth mother, or at least to spread joy and light wherever she travels.

Death scenario: In a downhill battle, Piety does something along the lines of Divine Intervention, or some powerful spell, to try and heal her teammates or change the tide of the battle. Even if it might cost her life, she does it regardless, in order to protect her family.

Toby Agrótis (he/him?), satyr druid of stars (Sylvanus) [Curse of Strahd campaign; ongoing]

“Being a hermit, he’s socially awkward and has few friends, but has a very vibrant, optimistic personality.”

Backstory: Toby was raised on a humble farm with his parents and two older brothers. At a young age, he met a strange, also young being that he offered materials and supplies in exchange for protection within the woods. From there on, the two became best friends. However, one night, Toby receives a divination from the stars, warning him about dangerous fogs of night. Not really knowing what it means, he tells the being--though they’re a little skeptical, they agree to try to keep an eye out. Despite this, the fog surrounds the farm and steals Toby to Barovia, where he meets the rest of the party.

Death scenario: In a final fight against Strahd to try to save a captured teammate, Toby discovers that the being had left to search and try to rescue Toby, only to end up captured as well. Despite Toby’s best efforts, he is downed in the battle. With no spells left, he can’t do anything at all when Strahd shoots a fireball at the party, or some fire-related spell at him to finish him off. He barely gets a goodbye to them, wishing they could’ve stayed together.

Oizys Atlas (he/him), human cleric of life (Torm) [DontRollMeGaming campaign; hiatus]

“Worrying, reserved, and lonely, but warm, courageous, and selfless towards others.”

Backstory: Oizys the vast majority of his life within his hometown’s church, where his mother took him to be raised as a cleric under the wings of the priest and multiple other congregates that worked there. It wasn’t until after he’d turned 18 that he’d properly set out on his own for the first time. For the next good few years he flounders a lot, trying to figure out the world, but he’s slowly getting his footing... Even if it doesn’t really seem like it.

Death scenario: Oizys is already hurt, close enough by a very low HP party member that’s being targetted by some tough enemy that he can react fast enough to shove or pull them out of the way of anymore attacks, possibly taking the initial attack as well. Since he’s now the only one within range, the rest get aggro’d onto him. Being already down himself, he doesn’t really stand much of a chance there, so before he could heal or do anything else, he’s downed--but the aforementioned party member gets to escape. The thought of dying is scary--but it let someone important to him live.

Viridian (he/him), kalashtar cleric of twilight (Kruphix) [Homebrew uni campaign; hiatus]. Technically 1st level ranger (from an item)

“Jaded and untrusting towards new people, sarcastic and protective. His twin aasimar sister means the world to him.” 

Backstory (IT’S A LONGER ONE BOYS, i could honestly write a book about these two with my roommate lmao): Viridian lived in a small village with his parents and sister, Feradin (she/her), being relatively happy together. One dark day, when they were around 10, an unfathomable creature descends upon it, decimating and destroying it along with everyone within it. Viridian hides with his sister, trying to cover her eyes and shield her as it lays siege around them. He unintentionally looks at the monster, which looks back at him. Unable to comprehend it, he is irreparably scarred--but the creature turns away, continue its destruction, much to Viridian’s shock. In the midst of crumbling wreckages of houses, Feradin is killed. Viridian pleads to the gods to bring her back, and she is returned by Atheros to serve him, with no memory of the monster. Together, they set out to try to begin a new life, with Viridian forcing himself to grow up fast so that Feradin could have as normal of a childhood as possible. Of course, they’re siblings so they still teased and fought each other, but beneath it all, they were inseparable. Viridian was slowly egged on by an intense need to understand and find out what the being had been--until he came to the slow realization that there was no mention of their village anywhere. He turns to Kruphix in the need to know what had happened to make the monster spare them, and to destroy the being that had killed his family out of revenge, justice, and to lay rest to the ghosts of their past. 

Death scenario: Viridian is almost guaranteed to die trying to protect or save Feradin. There’s really no other way he’d accept dying if it wasn’t for her. In the midst of a bloody, brutal battle, Viridian protects her with his life--ending up defeated beyond repair. Feradin removes her mask as she tries to use Lay on Hands, but it’s no use, and she can feel his soul slipping to Atheros, with little time left between them. Viridian would tell her how proud he is of her--she is strong enough to fight for herself, especially with her newfound friends within the party. He promises to wait for her and watch her as much as he can, but tells her to take her time and focus on living her life, without devoting it to anger or revenge. Despite it all, he passes away peacefully in the first restful sleep he’s had since their home was taken.

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Let me give you my life

Pairing: Loki x Tesseract

Warnings: Major Character Death, Mourning, delusions, mental illness, alcohol, Original Character Death, Odin, fantastic racism

Summary: After Frigga's funeral, Loki starts hearing a voice. It changes their life completely.

Chapter 4: Bridge and Chorus

Chapter summary: the aftermath

Chapter warnings: Odin, Major Character Death, suicide

Chapter note: this chapter is dedicated to @lucywrites02 because she pretended to be a bad bitch yesterday.

Previous chapter AO3

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

The shackles sing as Loki walks towards the throne, fighting back a grin. Odin, on the other hand, sits on his high quality chair, believing to be intimidating.

"You have committed a grave crime against the-" Odin tries to speak, but Loki chuckles.

"I know what I have done, Odin. No need to repeat yourself," they interrupt, using a voice they've been hiding in their throat since they learned how to speak.

And it has so much to say…

"Has your mother taught you no respect for your king?" They yell, their favourite way of speaking to Loki. In all these years, Loki cowarded away at this voice, scared of a physical expression of the anger. This time, he laughs at it.

"Not my mother, and I have no king but myself," they smile, watching a new wave of anger flashing in the old charlatan's face.

"Silence! You never knew how to shut this mouth of yours!" Odin raises his voice, hoping to see the now natural cowering of Loki. The only answer is another laugh.

"Do you really want me to start speaking, Odin? To see who is truly guilty, with all these good dicks and whores listening?" Loki asks, a glow in his eyes as he gestures around as wide as the shackles allow. The harshness of their tongue makes the nobles who watch the "trial" gasp.

"Who taught you this language?" The old man spits, narrowing one eye.

"Apart from your anger? And that old warrior you ordered to teach Thor and me how to survive in a forest? And there are the guards, I can name a few but stitching is a worse crime than murder…" he mutters, acting if like he's chatting with a cup of tea other than being on a trial for murder.

There's no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin

"Enough with your games! Why did you murder Lord Gæirasson in cold blood?" Odin asks the "big question", as if the right answer will lift the charges from Loki's name.

"Because… one, because he was a racist and offended me, to which the punishment is death. Two, because he started a war-"

"You started a war, Loki," Thor interrupts, taking Odin's side, like every time.

"A war had been started. Let's not blame people, Thor. Now where were I? Oh, yeah, at how Gæirasson started a war. Also, he refused to pay his taxes and you know how seriously I took my responsibility of being in charge of the palace's finances. Did war crimes against my people, father would be proud the son of a bitch is dead. And lastly, but definitely not least, a dreadful sense of fashion. Have you seen what his grooms wear? I think I threw up in my mouth when I saw it…" they finish with the rumbling, not even thinking of answering seriously. Odin will execute him anyways, would some fun be so bad?

"I said, enough with the games!" Odin basically screeches, their face going red.

In the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene

"For the murder of a lord, cause of a war and disrespect towards the throne, I Odin Allfather sentence you to a life in the dungeons," he decides.

"Dungeons? Not axe? Did Frigga's ghost or this moron talk you out of killing me?" Loki questions, taking their turn to narrow their eyes.

"If you keep talking, I might change my mind," Odin sighs, rubbing his temple.

"And get rid of this perfect pawn to hold King Laufey from the balls? A shame, really," Loki poutes and shrugs, pretending awfully that he cares.

"I will not stand your disrespect any longer! I had granted you your life, Loki, more than once! You will learn to respect me for it! Take them to the dungeons!" Odin speaks the final order. Four guards grab the chains that lead to Loki's shackles and push him away, forcing him to walk with them

Only then I am human / only then I am free

On the way to the dungeons, Thor stops the guards and demands to speak to Loki.

"Just tell me why, brother. Please. What didn't we give you to make you care so little?" they ask, grabbing Loki's shoulder, just like they always used to do.

"A family. That's what you didn't give me. And that's what I've earned," Loki answers, staring right into his no-brother's eyes, the blue in them and the pale lines that resemble his lightning. They know they won't see Thor from this close ever again, and they deserve a proper last memory.

"Then, I'm sorry. It's late, I know, but remember this, please… I shall visit, whenever I can, Loki. I swear. You shouldn't be in prison all alone," Thor promises. Loki gives only a nod, enough to make Thor dismiss the guards and let them keep walking Loki to his future and last chamber.

The only sign of emotions they allow themselves to show is a sigh, only out of sympathy.

For he knows that his freedom just begins.

Take me to church / I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

The moment the guards put Loki back into the white vacant cell and take their eyes off them, they cast an illusion of them settling on the floor and staring at nothing. The real Loki is walking up and down the room, waiting for the Tesseract to speak.

"Now?" he asks, feeling it close.

"Now, you need to learn who your family is. Not Odin, not Laufey, your true family, Entropy," they answer.

"What with this name? After all this, can't you call me by my name?" Loki groans.

"I am. You have many names. Entropy, the Chaos Stone, the Death Stone, the Knot… the last one, actually, is the name you're most familiar with, translated to Old Jötunn tongue," they speak, all matter-of-factly.

"You're lying, the Chaos stone is a myth," Loki brushes off the answer.

"It does exist. A black gem, created by billions of ropes, strings and threads tangled together. The hardest one to wield and command and impossible to find. The Jötnar had found it and worshipped it. And when Laufey found out that his son is nothing but a dead baby, he sacrificed the infant for the infant. And Odin found the baby crying in the altar, the gem gone,"

"So I own my life to an imaginary stone, apart from an old piece of shit. What a surprise…" Loki throws their hands in the air.

"No. You are the imaginary stone. In order to give life, the Chaos gem entered your body and never left. You are the flesh of a corpse and the mind of an infinity stone. And it's time to leave the corpse and join us,"

The aimless walking stops, and Loki's heart skips a beat

I'll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife

"You made me kill a man, for this?" he asks, glaring at nothing. They don't answer.

"You made me kill a man! Just so I could die!" boiling hot tears streaming down their eyes and slither into their shirt as burning red eyes stare at the empty room for something. "I trusted you! You promised me a family!" he yells between his sobs.

Their feet cannot support them, and they kneel down, turned into a crying sobbing and yelling mess. A hand, created by mist, grabs his shoulder, trying to provide comfort.

"I hate you," they spit, flaring their nose drills as they stare into the blue eyes of the illusion they use to pretend they're close to them.

"I'm sorry, hurting you was… if I could prevent it…" the stone says and gives him a small squeeze. And they mean it. If there was a way to do it without any pain, they would. But it's too late, Loki is already hurt…

Offer me that deathless death

Loki throws themselves into the tightest embrace they ever had, weeping like a baby. "I don't want to die. Please, I don't wanna die. Anything but this, anything, please!" he whispers, diving his head into their shoulder without a thought of holding back the tears.

"Shhhh, you won't die. Not truly. Your mind is the stone, as long as it exists you exist. And the body will stay intact until you need it again. You will be fine, I promise," they whisper, hoping of making them feel better.

"I'm scared, Tessie. I'm so scared, I can't," for a prince, Loki sounds so small, almost like the small child they used to be. Tessie starts playing with his hair, hoping to calm him down, even for a bit.

"It's alright. Everything will be fine, no matter if you do it or not," they shush them.

"If I do it or not?" Loki repeats, sniffing quietly and breaking the hug only to look at the misty blue eyes of Tessie.

"I… you're in so much pain… if you decide that you had enough, you'll be left alone," they explain. Loki nods, still quivering from the crying, but determined.

"No. We got so far. I-I-I'm not giving up," he lets his voice get louder, and then stands up. "What do I do?" they ask, collected once again.

"Get comfortable in a position. And once you're ready, make the ropes appear and let them wash over you," Tessie explains, holding this sympathetic voice. Loki nods and sits back down against the white wall, moving to get comfortable.

Then, with just a thought, the ropes appear and fill him with this calming sensation. Tessie walks closer and cups their cheeks. "See you on the other side, Loki," they smile and kiss their forehead before vanishing.

Loki takes a deep breath, and looks around the cage. He remembers a field day he had when little, a good day. Odin was sleeping on a bench and Frigga was yelling at them and Thor to not get into trouble as Thor dragged Loki, who was just above six, on an expiration of the forest around a castle in Vanaheim. Of course, they returned after the sun was down, with scraped up knees and dirty clothes and Loki had traces of tears in his cheeks because a bug scared him. But it had been, and still is, the best time they ever had with Thor.

He holds tight into the memory as he lets the ropes cover him and closes his eyes.

Good God, let me give you my life

The guards don't know how this happened. One moment, Loki was gazing at nothing and the next…

How does one say this to the Allfather?

The healers walk out of the cage when Thor storms in the dungeons, on the verge of panicking. "Is he alive?" It's all they ask.

The healers won't answer, it's enough to know.

Thor walks in and sits beside what used to be Loki, holding their cold and deformed hand and letting tears run down his face.

Loki doesn't respond, how could he?

He's a statue, as if made from black stone, and his hands covered in stone black ropes, with a faint glow where his heart should be being the only sign that there was once life there.

Loki's face doesn't have the signature smirk, and there's no gleam in their closed eyes. But he does wear a peaceful smile. A smile Thor regrets he had to see this body in order to know that his brother knows finally peace.

[princessmadafu]

That Book (excuse the long post)

I didn't want to jump into the fray without first thinking over the published extracts of FF and the various critiques and synopses in the press. I'd just like to send huge thanks to YankeeWallee and everyone that YW herself thanks for the collated screenshots of the excerpts and RoyahNikkah's review. I'll do what the rest of you do and state here that these are my personal opinions and anything quoted comes under "fair usage", etc. Long live free speech!

My over-riding reaction is, what an absolute pile of lies, lies and more lies. Starting with Scobie's sources, of which he says there are at least two per nugget of information. I believe most of the book has come directly or indirectly from MM herself, and that any "sources" have MM's blessing, sanction or outright order to disclose. FaceTiming in the bath? How would Scobie know? Unless he was in the bath with her, this can only have come from herself or the friend being FaceTimed. There is too much of a highly personal nature for it to be Scobie's own investigative work. So there's the first lie, straight from the weirdly-toothy Sussexy horse's mouth; of course she collaborated!

Some of us had our reservations right from the start of Harry and MM's relationship, but we were prepared to give her the benefit of the doubt and join in the welcome of a biracial, divorced American actress. Right-wing, left-wing, a-political or not-royally-bothered, we all thought, Let's give the pair a chance to see what they can do.

How about this article from Spiked on the engagement of Harry & MM from 2017:

Meghan Markle: Generation Woke's Princess Diana - spiked

"...look no further than the fawning response to the engagement of Prince Harry and American actress Meghan Markle – one of those rare occasions in which both the Telegraph editorial team and the identity-politics set erupted in simultaneous celebration."

How quickly the celebration wore off as the pair of them squandered our goodwill. Another article from Spiked from July 2019, less than two years later, is harsher, when we've all been insulted, preached at and condemned as racists by PH&MM:

Meghan Markle is the worst kind of snob - spiked

"With the possible exception of a few sad social outcasts, no one has a problem with the fact that Meghan’s mum just happens to be black. No, Meghan is criticised for being snobby, elitist, hopelessly out of touch and possessing all the self-awareness of a flea. It’s not Meghan’s skin colour that annoys people, but the fact that she thinks nothing of donning an outfit that costs more than most people in the UK earn in a year and then getting her minders to order the public not to take photos of her. [...] There are heaps of reasons for people not just to criticise Meghan and Harry, but to ridicule their hypocrisy and puncture their pomposity. And not one involves the colour of Meghan’s skin. Meghan comes in for criticism because she is the worst kind of snob who condescends to tell others not just what to do, but also what to think. The fact that she is biracial is completely irrelevant. Of course, there is an obvious solution for Harry and Meghan if they do not like the public attention and criticism. Harry could denounce his claim to the throne. They could give up the titles, move out of the palaces and fund their own lifestyle. I can’t for the life of me imagine why they don’t."

Prescient, no? Six months later and they announce they're off. She played him like a fiddle. The raptures she went into over Botswana and wanting the spend the summer? Did she feed his fantasies of moving to Africa permanently? How strange that Africa became Canada, which then became Los Angeles? Strange my perky little bottom! She had this planned all along. I don't know if PH is with her over there, but she certainly seems to be feeding the illusion that she is now Hollywood Royalty. If she couldn't cut real Royalty, she definitely won't cut the LaLaLand version which is a lot less restrained in voicing its opinions of jumped-up wannabes. Especially the Markly ones who cut, dump, run and show no loyalty or staying power.

The following points, in no particular order, are mostly from an assortment of DM writers and comments from members of the public.

"The book claims the so-called ‘old guard’ tried to undermine the couple and ‘were concerned that the global interest in and popularity of the Sussexes needed to be reined in’." A little self-aggrandisement here, possibly? Global interest, maybe, of the rubber-necking car crash variety, but global popularity? When was that, exactly? Royal staff are all well aware that the purpose of the Royals is to support HMTQ; that is their job. If the Sussexes needed reining in at all, it was because they weren't doing their job properly.

"Harry and Meghan believed ‘few inside the palace were looking out for their interests’ and felt that most courtiers could not be trusted with their sensitive information." Ditto, the courtiers' job is to look out for the interests of HMTQ; PH&MM's job was to look out for the interests of HMTQ, not themselves.

"They believed that these ‘men in grey suits’ were stifling their attempts to launch their initiatives, and when they tried to air these frustrations ‘the conversations didn’t lead anywhere’." I mean, come on! PH is 6th in line. He knows that. There is no "they" involved here - it's all MM again, isn't it, thinking she's more important because she's more popular and she famously gets what she wants... She thought she could snap her fingers and make whatever she wanted happen. She ignored the hierarchy and the protocols, and probably (I suspect) got dimwit Harry believing that she knew best, and that together they could change the world.

"One source said Harry felt that some of the old guard at the palace ‘simply didn’t like Meghan and would stop at nothing to make her life difficult’." I can well believe that staff at the palace didn't like her - she showed her true colours quite early on - but deliberately making her life difficult? I suspect this is what MM told Harry. Twisted the truth, naturally. I'm guessing she made a few ridiculous OTT demands, or wanted some unworkable project, and the staff, knowing their jobs as they do, tried to point out the flaws in her ideas, prevent her making a fool of herself, or otherwise politely protect her from herself. Goodness knows, she made a fool of herself often enough, barging in front and all that...

"The book concludes that Meghan was ‘totally foreign’ to this group of advisers, who ‘could sometimes be even more conservative than the institution they guarded’." They were guarding an institution with over a thousand years of history from someone with neither understanding of nor respect for British history, the Monarchy, or the duties of the RF; and she made no effort to learn.

"Another insider said: ‘The fact is that Meghan was welcomed with open arms and everyone did their best to offer their help about how to navigate such a tricky public role – advice she would often choose to ignore." The arrogance of the woman! And she was welcomed. She just believed that she knew best.

"Omid Scobie said Meghan’s high-profile career as an actress and the fact that she was a divorcee left her ‘ripe for exploitation’." High-profile career, mwah! Actress, mwah! Divorcee, so what? Charles and Camilla are both divorce/es, Anne is a divorcee, so is Andrew, and a whole bunch of other lesser royals. As for being ripe for exploitation, I think we all know how this panned out and MM wasn't the one being exploited! Far from it. She milked every opportunity and opening her new title and her new husband could bring her.

"During one of their final engagements as senior royals, Meghan was ‘purposefully snubbed’ by Kate in front of a global TV audience, the authors claim." Well now, where to start on this one? MM threw a hissy fit because she wasn't allowed to walk in the procession with HMTQ, C&C and DDoC. The DDoC decided to appease MM by pulling out of the procession and taking their seats. Now I don't know what DDoC thought about that but I can just imagine them comparing MM's behaviour with that of their own beautifully behaved kids. I can just imagine them thinking thank God she'll be gone soon! I doubt there was any purposeful snubbing at the service but MM has no manners and no idea how to behave, not even in church. The DDoC are too well brought-up to "carry on" in a place of worship, nor would they lean across seats for a happy little chat, just a quick turn round for a friendly word with Edward and Sophie immediately behind them before the arrival of C&C and HMTQ. Churches are not places to be gossiping and grinning inanely, and you definitely don't push your way through the chairs when the service is over! She is so rude and ill-mannered.

"The book claims Meghan and Kate’s ‘cordial but distant rapport’ was apparent when the pair appeared alongside each other at the King Power Royal Charity Polo Day last summer." I don't remember the dates exactly, but I should think by this time DoC was well and truly fed up with MM's shenanigans; the doe-eyes she'd been pulling at PW, the rumours she and the SS had been fanning about PW and une petite liaison with a long-time friend... Cordial but distant was probably the best MM could hope for at this stage; DoC was hardly about to play Happy Families with the troublemaker.

"The couple were dismayed when no photograph of them and their son Archie was displayed during the Queen’s Christmas speech last year." It was quite clear that the photos on display represented the direct line of succession, from HMTQ's father through to her great-grandson - five generations of the Monarchy. I truly believe that MM wanted to "modernise" the RF to such an extent that PH would be elected King! With MM at his side, dripping in all the jewels she could get her greedy mitts on! I realise it must be hard for PH to get to grips with his status as "Pretty Much Relegated Former Spare", but she must have been really feeding his insecurities if she got him upset about the absence of a photograph.

"Prince Harry was the first to say 'I love you' in his relationship with Meghan Markle, with friends revealing the couple were 'immediately obsessed' with each other, according to the latest extract of a bombshell biography." Oooh, how would Scobie know something as intimate as this? Immediately obsessed with each other, I can well believe; MM with his status, title, money, the palaces, the jewels... and she reeled him into her fantasy world with lies and perfectly posed KamaSutra yoga until he was obsessed with this chameleon woman, at the same time both mother-figure and hot, sexy, adoring, sophisticated, intelligent, humanitarian animal lover. Oh the lies, the lies; "Will you walk into my parlour, said the Spider to the Fly."

"They enjoyed a romantic dinner, with staff taking great pains to ensure their privacy, whisking them in through a staff entrance usually used to bring in fish discreetly." This is their second date at SoHo House, and again, how would Scobie know little details unless MM had told him herself? I like the hint of shade by the writer noting that the entrance was used to bring in fish discreetly - there's definitely something fishy about MM!

How about some comments from DM readers?

"Every single shameless self-serving tabloid "leak" and publicity stunt she has orchestrated has backfired specularly. Hence why Harry has gone from beloved military man and active working Royal to a national embarrassment within two short years! Her efforts at aggressive self-promotion are no match for her lack of talent or perspective in that area. She could have heeded advice from other, more dedicated Royals, but No. Meghan knew better and decided that she was deserving of instant worship fit for her 'celebrity' expectations. The Duchess of Cambridge has earned respect over years with quiet dedication to her causes. Meghan felt entitled to all the glory instantly, and was clearly slighted to learn that respect is not something to be commanded. She is a culture vulture with no respect or understanding of the very people that she promised to represent." [Jace T Adams]

"The narrative of the relationship is laughable. Everyone knows they first met in Canada when Harry was there for Invictus. He needed a girl for the night and Meghan was arranged for him. She must have been impressive as they had a date the next day and the rest is history." [Lady M]

"You can't work with someone you don't trust and these two have proven untrustworthy." [ellegrav]

I have no inside information on any of above, but people better placed than I am are making similar judgments on the contents of FF; people who've spent their working lives following and reporting on the RF.

"The Queen’s former press secretary Dickie Arbiter told the Mail: ‘I think it has their fingerprints all over it. We had a similar scenario in 1992 when Diana swore blind she hadn’t helped Andrew Morton and yet a year later it came out that she had indirectly helped him so history is repeating itself. ‘There are too many things that we have seen in the serialisation that could only come from the horse’s mouth, like deciding to gatecrash Sandringram when they landed from Canada."

And Jan Moir: JAN MOIR on the Meghan and Harry biography that has put ...

What did the pair of them want or expect? Top billing, it seems. What is remarkable is that Harry’s whole life and entire upbringing have been devoted and calibrated to him being a prince. Surely he understands how it works? Surely he could have explained the system to his vexed new bride? Primarily, that being royal is a form of active service, with ranks and a hierarchy so uncomplicated that schoolchildren throughout the realm understand the line of succession and its importance to the Windsors — and to us.

And Robert Hardman: ROBERT HARDMAN: Harry and Meghan are ... - dailymail.co.uk

Yet Finding Freedom is a struggle against protocol and seating plans. It is based on the perceived unfairness of a pecking order which has governed — and preserved — the monarchy for 1,000 years.

We can't all be wrong!

[wherearemyglassesbro]

How did each character get their vision in your Genshin Impact AU?

YEAHHH BABEY LETS GOOOO!!!

Some key terms so everyone can be included even if they haven’t played Genshin!

Visions: “The one thing that is known for certain is that Visions are conduits for their associated elements. However, the means by which Visions allow their wielders to harness elemental energy, and what is exchanged for this power, is a mystery.... When a god has deemed a person worthy of a Vision, there are two ways they can receive it: A new Vision appears before them in the blink of an eye, or an old Vision from a now-deceased person can be reawakened by resonating with someone else. It is also suggested that an active Vision can be abandoned and taken up by another person, but how exactly that works is unknown.” -the Genshin Wiki

Mondstadt: modeled after Germany

Liyue: modeled after China

Knights of favonious: an organization of knights within Mondstat, they act as peacekeepers! Helpful people!!

Hilichurls and Ruin Guards: common enemies found in the wild

Abyss Order: an organization of evil, fuzzy mages

The Fatui: all you really need to know about them is that they’re also an evil organization but...humans not monsters

Cryo: ice, Anemo: air(I realize I forgot this in the last post oops!), Geo: rock, Pyro: fire, Electro: lightning, Hydro: water, Dendro: nature

——————————————

Arthur(Dendro): Arthur never thought he’d get a vision. His oldest brother, Alastair, got a Pyro vison when he was 10. And his youngest brother Peter got an Anemo vision when he was 7. Arthur waited and waited and was totally convinced that he’d be visionless. But that’s fine! Plenty of people don’t have visions. His own parents and uncles didn’t even have visions! When Arthur left home at 17 to go to Mondstat to study, his travels were extremely lonely. He had to walk the whole way there, living with just the clothes on his back and a rickity tent to sleep in. He lost motivation about halfway through his trip, breaking down crying beside a big, mossy rock. The Dendro Archon pitied him and slipped a vision into his hand while he rubbed his face. The moss from the rock settled around his shoulders to hug him...And he was just...overcome with joyful sobs. The fact that the Dendro Archon had so much faith in him??? Wow...That’s what kept him going all the way to Mondstat, trudging up the stone steps to collapse on the smooth stairs of the Knights of Favonious’s Headquarters. He’s worked for them since then, receiving tutoring and now working full time as a translator :) since he received his vision, he’s grown leaves out of his head and his freckles turned green. He was born with snake eyes :)

Alfred(Pyro): Alfred and Matthew got their visions the same day. The two were allowed to go adventuring by their parents. They could go anywhere they want as long as they got home bedore dinner time! Alfred, the more energetic of the two, would always run ahead and drag Matt around to new, interesting outside their city. They often went to play on nearby ancient ruins, digging up old artifacts and playing with broken swords they found in the dirt. But one day, they stumbled upon a ruin guard. The machine sat, covered in vines. They assumed it was no longer in service and Matt climbed on top of it to try to pry the head open but uhhh it came to life and literally tried to kill them. It threw the twins hard against a wall and it crumbled, falling on top of them. The gods saw what happened and froze time for a few seconds to place visions into their hands. Alfred woke up very scared but this new power...was reassuring. He realized the gods were on their side! That was the best day of his life. He still goes on adventures! That day inspired him to keep going and to help others :)

Matthew(Anemo): Matthew received his vision at the same time as Alfred. The two were in a great deal of danger and the gods really did take pity upon them. But the Pyro Archon did not think that Matthew would be a good candidate for a Pyro vision. So the Anemo Archon stepped in and bestowed an Anemo vision upon the older twin. Matt was quite literally blown away by his own newfound ability to wield the wind. Together, the twins were able to create a fire tornado which blew the ruin guard off its feet, giving them enough time to sprint away. The slow, rusty beast unable to follow. That day was pretty traumatic for Matt because....he almost died....But hes grown so much since then. The twins were only 12 when they got their visions. He still has no desire for hand to hand combat, that’s why he practices alchemy :)

Francis(Hydro): I find every excuse to bring Jeanne into my AUs just to give Francis some spicy trauma (that’s a joke please don’t come at me). Francis was visionless but Jeanne was gifted her Vision from the Hydro Archon when she was 10. Jeanne was noble, loyal, helpful and kind. The Hydro Archon thought she was worthy of their power! Jeanne got very sick when she was 12 and her condition worsened until she peacefully passed when she was 15. Francis was ruined by her death. Her parents have him her vison. It died with her but carrying it with him and hearing the little bell on the end jingle was comforting. The following year, on the anniversary of her death, he sat under the moonlight singing her favorite song. The Hydro Archon’s heart broke for him and as he sang, they deactivated the vision. Francis cradled it in his hands and cried, his tears dripping down his face to collect in a small floating pool over the ground. In her honor, he learned to artfully wield water, having it swirl around him and his crew while they performed. Even though he knows the Hydro Archon brought it back for him, he likes to believe that Jeanne is providing him with strength and support from beyond :’)

Ivan(Cryo): Ivan has been a nomad almost his entire life. He travels all around to study hilichurls and their way of life. He’s lived with tribes of hilichurls, learned to write and speak their language, learned their style of finger paintings and carvings, cooked with them...Hes participated in almost all aspects of hilichurl life and in return, he provides them with plenty of boar meat and protection. He lived with a tribe in Dragonspine, the coldest area in all of Mondstat, and despite frostbite nipping at his fingers, he’d still go out of his way to hunt for the tribe. While hunting, he saw a saw a dull blue blinking under the snow. He stuck his hand down there and found a woman who had frozen to death. Her ghost greeted him and assured him that she wouldn’t hurt him. She explained that she’d been missing for years and thanked him for finally finding her. She gave him her Cryo vision and he went down the mountain to get others to come back with him to retrieve her so she could be properly buried at the Church of Mondstat where she belonged. Now Ivan can shatter ice at his own will, the woman had been very weak with her vison but he built it up to be stronger and work with his own style of fighting and living. When he lives with tribes in warmer areas, he makes popsicles for the hilichurls so they can cool down :D

Yao(Dendro): Yao grew up waaaay outside of Liyue Harbor. He wasn’t rich but he wasn’t poor. His grandparents had a silk flower farm where they just grew tons of silk flowers, even making their own perfumes too. Yao’s parents inhereted the land when they got married and intended for Yao to carry on the legacy of the Wang family perfumery but the Fatui seized the land and kicked the Wang family off of it. His grandparents passed and his parents retired to Qingce Village to live out the rest of their years peacefully. They offered for Yao to come but he refused, wanting to return their name to its rightful glory! He worked in many shops as a delivery boy, cleaned the streets, took commissions for deliveries outside of Liyue Harbor. He worked HARD in order to buy a shop right in the center of the city. The Dendro Archon admired his perseverance despite him being so young! And while he slept, he reactivated Yao’s grandmother’s Dendro vision, leaving it on the pillow next to his head. Yao nearly passed out when he woke up and saw it!! It was the surprise of a lifetime! He ran as fast as he could until he was out of the city, standing on one of the rocky hills overlooking Liyue Harbor. He held his grandma’s jade polearm in his hands and slammed it into the rocks, screaming joyfully as they split and vines rose up around him, flying every which and cracking like whips! He’d learn to control the power passed down to him and make his grandparents proud :’)

Kiku(Electro): Kiku’s father is a badass. He lost his eye in battle and keeps his vision orb in his eye socket. So he has one, normal brown eye and one bright purple eye with the Electro symbol in it. If that isn’t intimidating....I don’t know what would be. Kiku always wanted to be like him, his father is his role model. He doesn’t have a mom so his dad raised him to be a badass but...a more subtle badass. Kiku’s family was apparently full of Electro vision wielders so he hoped he would get one too! His father told him about his uncles and grandparents having Electro visions and how they worked together as an unstoppable team! The way Kiku earned his vision...Was not what he had in mind. He worked as a patrol soldier when he was 18, making sure the border of his country was safe. He and 12 others were approached by Fatui guards and pretty much....slaughtered. Kiku’s close friend had gotten his Vision when he was 8 after inheriting it from his great grandmother. It was apparent that his friend wouldn’t make it. After a tearful goodbye, his friend passed his Vision onto him. Kiku wears his vision proudly, a symbol of eternal trust and friendship. Kiku now works with the Fatui, profiting of off their greed more than even they know. He hates them but by working with them, he’s keeping the locals safe.

Lovino(Pyro): Lovi’s story is kinda sad. Grandpa Roma’s vision was meant to be his because he’s the first born grandson but the vision rejected him. It never turned on. Lovino became so frustrated that he passed it over to Feli...And it came to life within a week. Lovino felt betrayed, angry and resentful towards his brother. It wasn’t fair!!! How could this happen? So instead, Lovi rejected the Hydro Archon and built a shrine for the Pyro Archon. He made offerings of flowers, stew, chili peppers, wine, anything he could get his hands on. He sat in saunas to develop a tolerance for heat and trained until he was almos passed out. He prayed and did everything he could to get the Pyro Archons attention but still, he didn’t get a vision. By now, Feli had his own vision for three years and was mastering archery. Lovino had enough. He gathered twigs and weeds, stomping out into a clearing “Hey! I know you can hear me! What do I have to do to prove myself to you? I’ve done everything I can! Are you too afraid to give it to me? Huh??? Pussy! Fucking let me-“ uh oh. Now the Pyro Archon was mad. They decided to give him a chance, they could always take it away or kill him if he failed. The vision appeared in his palm and the weeds in his hands burst into flames. He screamed in agony, his arms on fire now. He kept off of a nearby cliff down into the ocean to put out the flames....but he had it. A vision...He’s been ruthless since then. Owning a flower shop and kicking ruin guards asses when they stomp around in the flower fields

Feliciano(Hydro): Feli has always felt guilty about his vision. It was meant to be Lovino’s but it awakened for him instead. He trained when Lovi wasn’t around, everything he did was subtle and quiet because every glimpse of his vision angered his brother. Feli didn’t want that, he wanted them to be close again :( he got lonely when his brother was gone and sound talk to his Vision the way he used to talk to Grandpa Roma. He’s grateful that he received his grandpas vison though!! It was very powerful when it was with Roma but with Feli, it’s significantly weaker because he just doesn’t have the same battle experience. He doesn’t even want it anyway. He is a peaceful guy who enjoys archery and singing in the church choir :) he has no desire for violence the way his brother does.

Ludwig(Geo): Ludwig inherited his fathers vision. He’s still alive but after losing an arm while on knight duty, he retired and gave his vision to Ludwig. The vision easily accepted Lud as its new owner, glowing brightly every time he touched it. The Geo Archon likes strong, loyal and intelligent people and Lud perfectly fits those preferences. Lud was 18 when he got his father’s vision so by now he had already been a knight in training for the knights of favonious! After intense training and an obscene amount of testing, he became a full blown knight capable of fighting monsters when need be. He’s very respected by the civilians of Mondstat and truly makes his father proud.

Gilbert(Pyro): Gilbert has broken many laws in his time and breaking into a very dangerous ruin was probably the best thing he ever did. He found tons of crispy, burnt skeletons in there and lots of fire flowers who spat sparks at him as he walked by. In a bigger flower...He saw a glint and thought ‘Aw yeah!! There’s a gemstone in there! That’s gonna be worth so much money!!!’ So he stuck his hand right into the smoldering flower, getting 4th degree burns as he ripped an ancient vision out of it. The thing had to be centuries old. It’s gold casing was bent and covered in dried blood both Gil’s and whoever else had owned it before. When the vison came to life in his hand, he could feel tbe the energy within was very old... it was later determined that it was likely one of the first batch of visions gifted to the human race by the Archons! Historians tried to buy it from him. It for once, Gil set his greed aside and kept the vison for himself! The vision radiated happy energy at that so he assumed that it was happy he kept it

Please ignore the spelling errors or I will barf 🙂

[kendrixtermina]

The Abyss NPC are such a trove of gold for additional worldbuilding tbh 

Everything about the Pagan Lady who I assume is Dagdan breaks my heart

That poor NPC whose family was somehow massacred by nobles “People with crests do whatever they like no one stops them least of all the church”

Mr. Backup died during the timeskip :( But Abysskeeper ends up marrying his older sister in VW and SS

Rodrigue paid for reestablishing the monastery town, even giving money to the ppl in abyss & generally seems to. I guess you see where Dimitri gets that charitable mindset from. Yuri also notes that he’s remarkably uncorruptible. 

Abysskeeper is originally from Derdriu. It#s fun how a lot of his CF and AM dialogue is exactly the same but in different context XD - apart from of course the rodrigue line, and the time Hubert sends a soldier to do some mission there

When you go save Fhirdiad Constance is pretty glad to save the ppl from the school of sorcery and is glad to find them mostly unharmed

Yuri goes into some detail of events right preceding Byleth’s return in AM where the villages near the fronts weren’t sure wether to think of the guy massacring random imperial soldiers as a serial killer or a folk hero

Balthus apparently had a friendly brawl with Dimitri at some point (I guess continuing the tedency of the recruitees in aM to mention having personally interacted with him, at the very least Leonie and Caspar also get lines like that)

Apparently Yuri’s mom got sick sometime during the timeskip (at least in the AM timeline) so he couldn’t evacuate her from Faerghus. 

Constance like Ferdinand, Lorenz & Lysithea is one of those ppl who remember Edelgard in a semi-positive light after her defeat. Kudos to you!

Balthus suspects where Claude ran off to. Well, he was kinda sent there to snoop on him to begin with XD

He never had any hope for the Parlay

Apparently Yuri does have a habit of praying, he’s not like a strooong believer and can’t recite the scriptures much but it’s a habit he picked up from his mom, I guess he would be one of those ‘culturally religious’ people

I just love how Yuri had additional observations on nearly everything like... nothing gets past him. 

Meanwhile in the CF timeline, Balthus apparently thinks Edelgard is hot (which earns him a death glare from Byleth) and thinks the whole Black Eagle strike force should go have a beer to celebrate Byleth’s return since they’re all old enough now and Byleth’s no longer supposed to babysit them

I love how Hubert just flat out takes over Abyss and integrates poor overworked Yuri into his spy networkXD . Hence why Hapi feels he deserves a definite article.  Well, Hubert appreciates how good he is. The mission was to try & convince the Alliance lords to fold so like El & co were actively attempting diplomacy until the end

On CF you see a very omnious NPC who suddenly dissapears if talked to (probably Agarthan) who complains about “that prince being no good” - Did they offer Dimitri their support when they noticed they were definitely losing control of Edelgard? If so he seems to have rebuffed em. It’s a very cryptic line and I can’t rly make heads or tails of it, but, if he wouldn’t sell Rhea out to Edelgard he probably wouldn’t do it for someone even worse no matter what they promised him. 

Apparently in the VW timeline Hapi is a big fan of Judith

Balthus is proud that little Hilda has become an A list schemer

Hearing Claude’s plan makes constance a bit self-conscious about her own being more past-focussed, she’s been out-bolded

Hapi doesn’t know much about Almyra but reflects on how there are many marginalized minority groups in Fodlan including ppl from Isolated communities like her own

Yuri finds the plan a bit lofty & idealistic for his tastes, and also reckless,  but he realizes that he’s got no leg to stand on when it comes to being more noble than he lets on, and that maybe a lil bit of recklessness are what these times need

Oh, once the secret’s out Hapi concludes that there probably would have been war one way or another with the slitherers having everything infiltrated, edelgard or no edelgard

Balthus mentions that Holst wasn’t at Shambhalla because he was “working out things with the Almyrans” and suggest that they warn him about the slitherers lest they sabotage the diplomacy

Apparently Hapi meditates! This comes up cause she trying not to freak out about Nemesis

“People sait it was the church who kept order but actually Yuri’s the one keeping us from complete chaos”

Apparently it was Hapi who kept the surface bandit population from flattening Abyss

Apparently in VW it’s Judith who gave supplies to Abyss (In Rodrigue’s place)

Seems like despite Hapi’s worries they kinda fare best on CF though (”Things have been pretty ok” vs “We lost some ppl”)

Abyss Resident: “I used to be an important person in the church but Im exiled for embezzling. It wasn’t out of greed tho my hometown was pillaged and the church wasn’t putting in enough to rebuild” Tell me again that Rhea cares about the little guy

One of the random rogues from Abyss is from the kingdom, claims to be a distant descendant of Fraldarius the Elite and finds “poetic justice” in taking down the empire under Claude. 

Another reaaaaly juicy tidbit is that rogue with another message from Hubert, telling Byleth to bring Rhea with them when they go to Shambhalla. Ensuing that Rhea and Thales would destroy each other.  And reaaaly adds to my conviction that Edelgard and Hubert basically did everyone a huge solid and no one noticed. Well, actually in Verdant wind they Do notice eventually; Its the left hand fighting the right cause everyone has triust issues galore

I didn’t think my love of Hubert could increase further

I always wondered, hm, were they expecting Rhea to self-destruct? Did Claude deliberately plan for it? But I never had enough evidence. especially for team Empire. But I mean Edelgard started this whole war cause Rhea is a danger so, while I get keeping her alive cause the slitherers want her for experiments, why not slit her throat as soon as the imperial palace is surrounded? Why have Hubert return her alive, to win the other faction’s trust? Not their style.

Though the random rogue also says that “Rhea was kept alive as insurance” against the slitherers. 

So it WAS part of the plan. I always did have that feeling, but, I never knew how to articulate it logically and not just intuitively. 

Of course if Byleth went and told Claude about this, Claude’s decision is also clear because he’s not dumb enough to think the empire would care for Rhea’s wellbeing out of the goodness of their heart

Though ultimately she insists on coming along for her own reasons anyways wether Claude is there or not, for plain ol’ revenge. 

Also while reading through the scrpits I realize that I never clicked the “Do you hope [Rhea] is dead?” option when Claude explains his plan. That actually nets you support points and he’s like... “Daangerous question friend”. Really Claude is not “the chill/nice one” he’s so much more interesting than that and I love him

Also I love how the NPCs get different outfits depending on the route! I wish there had been more route-specific aesthetic touches

[spiltscribbles]

83 or 87 for Hamliza? Always love your writing! ❤

Notes: I really hope you like this  love, you are so kind and brilliant! The * eps it’s from a Fitzgerald quote lol.

83 » When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then

.-

AO3  »  Send Me A Prompt

.-

Eliza can admit she’s always been the romantic in her family, a contrast to Angelica’s short-winded passions with whomever caught her eye for that particular moment, and Peggy’s nonchalant, pragmatic sort of favor for one of the folks at her beck and call. Since girlhood she’s been windswept with the follies of Prince Charming and one’s true love and happy ever afters painted with sunlit skies and earnest kisses.

Eliza supposes that’s why when she met Alexander— spirited and ravenous and brilliant Alexander— she was already a goner. She knows she should’ve been afraid, cautious at the very least, when it came to his electric smile and bright eyes bursting with life. But Eliza had never been so mesmerized by a boy before, never felt that particular thud to her chest or the way her nerves sparked with every gentle caress, or sometimes how his kisses made her ribcage want to crack open, to scream at him to look at her! Just look! To see the way her insides sung for him, how she glowed every time he sparkled. How it felt like something lovely bloomed within her every time it felt like he actually understood the facets of herself she never knew how to explain with words. 

It’s nearly two decades removed from the first time they locked eyes— Eliza a fresh faced graduate from Yale and Alexander the wonder boy speech writer for Washington’s gubernatorial campaign. They’ve built a home together, parented six kids, went through joys and heart break in equal measures, and yet, he still makes Eliza weak in the knees, makes her feel buoyant and feverish and maddening all at once with nothing more than the curve of the lips and the way he’s always touched her so tenderly, like he was still holding his breath, like Eliza was something miraculous through every layer and if he’s not cautious she’ll break.

Eliza inwardly snorts, more than a bit derisive, when memories of the past year flood into the forefront of her mind. When she thinks of the pamphlet and the tabloids and the gutted way he has been staring at her, like he has any right, like it was Eliza who broke their every vow and shattered the trust between them.

But no.

No, Eliza won’t let herself get lost in those sort of thoughts, not now, preferably not ever again. They’re finally on some sort of solid ground once more, he swore that he’d right every wrong and she promised to let him try. And maybe that’s enough? Maybe it’s enough that she loves him and despite it all she knows he’s always loved her, loved her first and second and third.*

Maybe they can make it enough.

Eliza takes a deep breath as she walks into their Georgetown townhouse, the weight of the day still heavy on her shoulders. Technically she’s still on maternity leave, but the agency called in a panic early this morning when she was preparing Johnny’s lunch for school, apparently some sort of paperwork had gone missing and if it wasn’t turned into the state by the end of the workday one of the major grants wouldn’t be renewed, and of course it’s in the field that Eliza headed. Thankfully Alexander had offered to call in and watch William for the morning, but Eliza has missed her little newborn, craves kicking off her heals, and stealing some hours of calm bundled up in the sheets with him cradled in her arms— Maybe Eliza imagines Alexander taking off the rest of the day too, maybe she hopes he’d curve against her and wrap his long arms around the pair of them. Maybe the idea of that makes Eliza ache with wanting.

Before climbing upstairs, she goes to the kitchen to pick up a small snack, can’t help the swell of the heart she gets when she spots one of the letters Alexander’s been penning for her these last few months taped against the fridge.

She smiles to herself when she reads the pros. He’s always been able to string words together in the loveliest of ways , making her blush and laugh in the same breath. Eliza hadn’t known what he meant when he swore to Eliza that he’d court her all over again, earn his second chance, but she can admit she’s begun enjoying this thrust to the past, letting him relearn each patch of skin on her body and scab on her heart, and returning the favor.

“Ma?”

Eliza jolts back, suddenly stunned at the sound of someone walking in.

Eliza’s expecting to see Church or one of Alexander’s friends from college, the ones the public’s fondly dubbed the revolutionaries, is surprised when who walks through the doorway is Philip, a bashful grin on his face. it’s Alexander’s smile through and through, and it takes Eliza’s breath away how much he looks like his father in certain lights— tousled hair and bright eyes and dimpled chin.

“Philip! You could’ve given me a heart attack,” she scolds with no real heat, instinctively comes up to pad down his curls and press a kiss to his cheek— he’s been taller than her since he was twelve and it’s a fact that still blows Eliza away.

“You’re not that old Ma,” he smirks, making Eliza elbow check him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she toots. “Now what are you doing home so early?”

“You know my last hour’s a free period,” he shrugs, takes the bottle of water she offers him with thanks.

“Yes, but this is when you usually canoodle with Theo before getting to your internship,” Eliza says after taking a swig of her own.

Philip glares now, pouting moodily. “I hate that you guys actually talk.”

“You should see the group thread we’ve got going with Angie,” Eliza preens, snickers at the way he waggles his tongue in retaliation.

“Not cool Ma.”

“C’mon now Pip, tell me what’s going on?” She hops on the counter so that there eyes are level while Philip sits on the stool, head cradled on his palms.

“Just wanted some space,” he says, doesn’t catch her gaze.

“Pip don’t forget that I was the one who changed your diapers,” Eliza needles.

“Gross mom!” 

“Lies won’t work on me,” she continues as if he hadn’t interrupted. “Now tell me what’s going on, will you?”

“’s just— Ma we’re about to graduate.”

“I know, I had to bribe the president of the PTO to get extra tickets for your grandparents.”

Philip furrows his brows, “Really?”

“Pip,” Eliza warns, the lightly reproving tone belied by the way she cards a hand through his hair. “What does graduation have to do with you and Theo?”

He puts out his hands, like it should be obvious. 

“I’m going to the city like dad in Columbia, and all Burrs go to Princeton,” he explains airily. “I mean I think we should probably just start the, de-threading.”

“De-threading?” Eliza repeats incredulously.

“Yeah, I mean they’re like an hour apart Ma, and when we come back here for holidays we’ll each be spending it with our families, not each other. I mean don’t you reckon that letting things fizzle out like this before summer and prom and all that is the responsible thing to do.”

Eliza frowns, her heart sinking. Philip might’ve inherited Alexander’s smile and quick wit, but he’s her son too. He has Eliza’s eyes and the same freckle beneath his left nostril. But atop that, he’s also just as much of a romantic as Eliza and she knows that for fact. This plotting out breakups and worrying about what will happen in the future isn’t him.

“Do you still love her?” She asks lightly, making it so Philip’s brows hike up and his mouth gapes open.

“Course I do, she’s my— She’s my everything.”

“Then why would you want to break up with her before even trying to work it out?” She counters.

Philip casts his gaze at a point over Eliza’s shoulder, hands rinsing together nervously. 

“I don’t— I don’t wanna hurt her, like meet some other chick while at a party or studying at the union or whatever and then—“

Oh.

Eliza supposes she should’ve been expecting this, but that doesn’t stop her from feeling so incredibly gutted that her little love, her baby  Philip, is afraid of doing something like this.

“You don’t want to do what your father did to me,” Eliza finishes, leaps down so that she’s standing straight.

“I’m sorry Ma,” Philip says, face morphed into something painfully contrite.

“Don’t be my little love,” Eliza tells him, squeezes one of his hands into her own. “I love your father, I’ve always loved your father, I will always love your father Philip, and When you love someone, you just don’t stop. Ever. Even when people roll their eyes or call you crazy… even then. Specially then.”

Philip nods slowly, understanding.

“Dad really hurt you, huh?”

“Your dad loves me too, and I’ve never doubted that Pip, and when things get tough, it just means we have to work that much harder to keep one another,” Eliza says with a thin, watery smile. 

“I’m gonna go catch Theo before she leaves campus.” He says, understanding glittering in his eyes.

“If you don’t let me know what went down I’ll just ask her,” Eliza goads, watches him scurry back out to his car.

“I thought I heard voices in here?” 

Eliza turns around, isn’t surprised when she sees a beaming Alexander walking towards her in his sweats and a white t-shirt, baby Will tucked into one arm.

“Pip stopped by before going to the internship, he’s gone now,” Eliza explains, meeting him half way there and beginning to croon to a sleepy Will.

“Oh,” Alexander is tentative when he pushes a curl back behind her ear. “I can wait for the rest of the brew here while you take a nap with William?”

Eliza purses her lips, thinks about her conversation that she had with Philip just now, and it’s the first time since the pamphlet being leaked that she doesn’t second guess her decision.

Softly, Eliza presses up on her toes to peck a tender kiss on the underside of Alexander’s jaw, breathing in deep and feeling a rush of love all over again.

“I’d prefer it if you came to bed with us, I’m sure the kids will be fine with ordering out for dinner.”

Alexander looks like Eliza’s just gifted him with all the secrets of all the galaxies when he readily agrees, kisses  her forehead and the top of her cheek and her lips too.

[allsassnoclass]

this is a niche au written specifically for @calumsclifford because she put the idea in my head.  I probably won’t continue it but there’s Potential in this universe so please enjoy the very beginnings of a Raven Cycle au

Luke Hemmings has forgotten how many times he has been told that he will kill his true love.

He grew up with predictions swirling around his household before he could talk.  Most of them are significantly less specific: You will have the opportunity to earn a sum of money, be ready for it.  Something catastrophic will happen tomorrow, possibly to do with the number six.  You have a difficult decision that will not make itself.  Go with your gut.

Liz Hemmings and the other ladies of 300 Fox Way begin each reading with the assurance that “these predictions will be accurate, but not very specific.”  It’s easier that way.  Clients can then believe however much they chose to.  Was the neighbor offering to pay extra to buy their lawnmower a coincidence, or what the psychic foretold?  Was the minivan carrying six passengers that ran into their car bad luck or a fulfilled prophecy?  In this way, it becomes a bit of a game for clients to figure out how exactly each prediction will come true.  Their little house remains a roadside attraction without garnering an inconvenient amount of attention.

Predictions about Luke were never anything but precisely accurate.  His mother knew that he would sprain his wrist on the first day of school.  He could never lie about his grades, because Jimi or Persephone would tell his mom about the content of his report card before he got home.  Calla always predicts what song he’s going to play when he pulls out the guitar even if she’s never heard it before.  Everyone in that house knew he was gay before he ever thought to come out.

The Fox Way psychics do not have a habit of being wrong, whether they’re predicting Liz’s tax returns within ten dollars or humming a song a minute before it plays on the radio.

Luke has had his palm inspected, his tea leaves pondered over, and his tarot cards read an infinite amount of times by every psychic woman to pass through their doors.  Each one of them says the same thing:

If Luke were to ever kiss his true love, his true love would die.

He hates this prediction, because despite it’s accuracy, there’s still so much he doesn’t know.  Does it have to be a kiss on the lips, or would kissing his true love’s forehead do him in?  How long after the kiss would he die?  What type of death would it be?

The thought of him having a true love, someone who is made for him and perfectly compatible like a fairy tale, fills him with warmth.  The thought of being the cause of his death has resulted in various late nights spent crying in the quiet of his tiny room, trying not to be heard by one of the various women he lives with.

By the time Luke turns sixteen, he decides that he’s not going to fall in love in order to avoid the ordeal altogether.  Around the same time, his mother starts having intense whispered conversations with her two best friends, Persephone and Calla.  The conversations always drift off or quickly change when he enters the room, and eventually he asks Persephone about them.

Persephone is the most likely to tell him, because her predictions often leave her mouth without permission and he knows that she doesn’t like secrets in the house.

“Luke Robert Hemmings,” she says, cupping his face with her palms, frizzy blonde hair looking like a halo in the sunset light, “this is the year you will fall in love.”

-/-

It’s cold in the churchyard.

Every year, the 24th of April feels colder than it should to a small town like Henrietta, Virginia.  No one notices, because no one outside of 300 Fox Way thinks of St. Mark’s Eve as a significant day year after year.  There are no decorations to put up, and no gifts to exchange or parties to throw.  No one gets St. Mark’s day off of school, or marks it on the calendar.

No one except the psychics, that is.

Year after year, Luke and his mom drive to the abandoned, crumbling, nameless church positioned on the corpse road.  Year after year, Liz looks at the spirits of those who will die within the year and asks them their names.  Year after year, Luke writes them down for her and tries in vain to catch a glimpse of what she sees.

He never sees any spirits.  He sometimes sees mist, but only if it rained recently, and he always sees the caved-in roof and moss-covered stones that used to make the frame of the church.  He never hears anything, either.  Even crickets and other nighttime creatures tend to stay quiet on St. Mark’s Eve.

Luke spends the time waiting for the future-dead gazing at the stars, clearly visible this far out of town, and fiddling with his lip ring.  They’ve already been there for what feels like hours, but they always come well before midnight and more often than not stay late.  The dead have no need for punctuality.

At least he remembered his beanie this time.  His mom tried to get him to put on gloves, but Luke hates writing while wearing them, and that’s half the reason he’s here.

“Tonight is the night,” Liz says, voice soft and airy like it sometimes gets when she’s making a prediction.  Luke glances at her, ready to start writing names, but she falls silent, looking at the outline of a gate positioned in the wall steadily but without the urgency that accompanies the spirits.  Every year, they open that gate in order to let the dead walk their path to the church.

The cold settles a bit deeper into Luke’s bones.  He’s come with his mother on St. Mark’s Eve since he was too young to properly write, but it does feel different this time.  He’s not sure why, but there’s a heaviness in the air, an anticipation that he hasn’t felt since he was six years old and being brought to this abandoned church for the first time because Liz said she focuses better with him there.  At six years old, he hadn’t always realized exactly what that meant.

While Luke can’t see spirits or predict the future, every psychic in the house says that they can do that better when he’s there, sometimes going so far as to call him in during difficult readings to give them direction.

“You’re like a lighthouse,” Persephone once said.  “You show us where to go.”

“It’s like turning up the volume when you’re in the room,” Calla added.  “We all hear better with you there.”

“It’s something to be proud of,” Liz always tells him.  “It’s extremely rare to be able to enhance a psychic’s gifts.”

Luke has spent a lot of time sulking over being the only person in the house who isn’t privy to the supernatural, on top of being the only boy.  He’s had sixteen years to come to terms with it, but sometimes it still stings.  It stings less when the women thank him for his help with something important and tangible.

During the day of the year when both time and the spirit world collide with their own, Liz always has Luke with her to pull everything into focus.

“Aglionby boys haven’t been giving you any trouble, have they?” Liz suddenly asks, startling him enough that he drops his pencil and has to root around in the freezing grass for it before hopping back onto his spot on the wall.

“No,” he says, frowning at the mention of the private school full of politicians' sons and trust fund babies located just outside of town.  His mom has drilled into his head that they’re more trouble than they’re worth, and should be avoided like the plague.  Every interaction that he’s had has supported that advice.  “Not more than usual, anyway.  They’ve started getting their convertibles out with the warmer weather, but I only ever see them at work when they haggle for more iced tea.  Why?  Are they going to be giving me trouble?”

Liz hums, then stiffens suddenly.

“They’re coming.”

Luke straightens and keeps his pencil poised.  He follows his mom’s gaze, but just like in previous years all that greets him is the darkness of midnight in the country.  He knows by the way her eyes are fixed now that that isn’t all that Liz sees, though.  The spirits of those who will die in the next twelve months are making their march on the corpse road to the church, and they are there to ask their names.

Every year, the believing citizens of Henrietta ask if they or a loved one will die within the next year.  Every year, for a small fee, Liz will tell them who is on their list.

“Who are you? Robert Neuhmann,” Liz begins, and Luke hastens to write down the names phonetically and as quickly as possible.  “Who are you?  Ruth Vert.  Who are you?  Frances Powell.”

Luke can’t hear anything except Liz’s voice, can’t see anything except her shadowed figure a few feet from him, but the names of the future-dead appear in his notebook nonetheless.

It’s a lot of names that would have been popular decades ago, with familiar last names.  Henrietta is full of old families.  Not many people move to town, but almost no one leaves, either.

“What’s your name?” his mom asks.  Then, a bit louder, “Excuse me, what’s your name?”

Luke glances up, then loses his breath.  Where there should be empty air is instead the vague shape of a person, faded and fuzzy but unmistakably there.  He blinks, but the scene doesn’t change.

“Mom, I can see him,” he says, voice shaking.

The spirit wanders forward, almost stumbling.  Luke always thought that the procession of spirits would be orderly in some way, but this one seems lost, scared.  The more Luke looks, the more he can make out other details.  He’s wearing a sweater and slacks, hair soft and rumpled.  His face is fuzzing and faded, like Luke is trying to look at it through a fogged window, features completely indistinct.  Luke wouldn’t recognize him if he passed him on the street tomorrow, but somehow he feels like he would know him anyway.

He’s unmistakably young, not much older than Luke, if at all.

The spirit picks at his sleeve, in such an alive way that Luke feels vaguely sick.  Then he stumbles forward, as if jostled from behind.

“Get his name,” Liz says frantically.  “He won’t answer me and I need to get the others.”

Luke slides off his spot on the wall, heart hammering in his chest.  He approaches on unsteady feet, then asks “What’s your name?”

The spirit doesn’t seem to hear, moving slowly towards the church door in a zig zag, as if he can’t see the path but feels a pull to it anyway.

He doesn’t seem to know that he’s going to his death.

“Who are you?” he asks, stepping closer.  He won’t step on the corpse road, not tonight when spirits are actively using it, but he needs to be sure that the boy can hear him.  Even this close, his face is indiscernible.  Nothing about him suggests that this is a person, but Luke can feel it.  His mind knows what his eyes can’t figure out.

His eyes catch on the raven insignia on his sweater, and his breath stutters.

That’s the Aglionby symbol.  He’s a high schooler, just like Luke, and he’ll be dead within the year.

The boy continues forward, and Luke follows, repeating his questions.  The closer he gets, the colder he feels.  Logically, he knows that it’s the spirits drawing on his energy, but it feels like dread, and it feels like death.

The boy approaches the entrance to the church, and Luke knows that he’ll be gone if he passes through that doorway.  Impulsively, he reaches out a hand and touches the boy’s sweater.  His fingers go numb from the cold immediately, but the boy stops, and for the first time seems like he might notice Luke next to him.

“Please,” Luke says, softer.  “Will you tell me your name?”

“Ashton,” he says.  His voice is quiet, but not because he’s whispering.  It sounds like his voice is coming from far away, tinny like it’s been passed through a radio.  The top of his sweater is wet from a rain that hasn’t happened yet, and Luke can’t stop looking at where his face should be.

Of all the times Luke imagined what it would be like to see the dead, he never anticipated that it would feel like this.  Cold, maybe.  A bit lonely, perhaps.  But not like he’s looking at a grave only to find it staring back and asking why it couldn’t be saved.

“Is that all?” he whispers.

“Ashton Irwin,” the spirit says.  He closes his eyes.  Luke doesn’t know how he knows this, since he can’t see any facial features, but he knows.  “That’s all there is.”

Ashton falls to his knees, hands braced against the dirt.  The black of the church seems to swallow him up, and Luke feels a lump in his throat.

“Mom he’s--he’s dying.”

“Not yet,” Liz says.  Sometime during his talk with the spirit, she finished writing the rest of the names and moved to stand behind him.  She puts an arm around his shoulders, and Luke leans into her, resisting hiding himself because he feels like he has to see Ashton off at least.  He fades into the church, or maybe the church fades into him.  Luke watches until there are no traces of him left.

“Why could I see him?” he asks into the quiet.  It feels loud in the night.  Warmth starts to return to his skin, and in the edge of his hearing he registers the distant sound of an owl and a few crickets.

The spirits have passed on, but Luke feels stuck.  His lungs are unfreezing, but the cold is replaced by an empty feeling.  Grief, or perhaps regret.

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” his mom says carefully.  “Either you’re his true love, or you killed him.”

[amidst-thestcrs]

8 Facts about my Muse(s).

Tagged by: Someone at Summer’s old blog 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ Tagging: @feralspace-bitch / @speck-of-stardust, @fightan0therday, @tr0ubled-s0uls, @starrys0nder, @hiemaleyes, @implausiblynaive, @defactomatriarch, and anyone else interested!! (You guys totally don’t have to do this if you don’t want to either ofc!) 😌👌❤❤

Morti

1) Despite having “freedom” while living with Gary, Morti actually missed out on quite a bit of typical things that other kids genuinely experience around her age. This doesn’t really bother her until other people start making her feel like it’s a problem though. Gary always had a convenient excuse for everything: they didn’t have enough money to afford cable so they only had a dvd player; most of his family had either died or lived far away so they didn’t ever visit extended family; they lived too far away from signal towers to get wifi so they didn’t have internet; etc.. Due to this, I imagine she missed out on quite a lot of normal things and probably hasn’t even done something as simple as been in a car before.

2) Morti responds well to kindness and doesn’t comprehend mean or abrupt people as she doesn’t understand why someone would be that.

3) Her favorite animal is a frog! She adores frogs so much and used to adore the little pond by their house when she lived with Gary. He actually caught one for Morti as a pet which she still has and named Henry! It’s her most prized possession and best friend. ❤

4) I think if Morti wasn’t able to form a strong bond with the Smith family when/if she goes back home, Morti would 100% be willing to go back and live with Gary again if that ever became an option, even despite all the lies. 

5) Despite living with Gary for most of her life, Morti was still a “Morty” underneath it all as she’s always had a fascination with space even as a kid. She owned many astronomy books and even Gary brought her home a telescope for her that she used all the time to see the stars at night.

6) Morti has no memory of the Smith family whatsoever. She doesn’t remember any of them and will always feel bad for this especially since she feels like she’s probably supposed to remember them.

7) I think she puts up with the name Morti cause she doesn’t think anyone really cares enough to call her otherwise, but if given the choice, Morti would much rather go by the name September/Ember as it’s the name she’s used to and the one that feels most like her to her.

8) The Ricks have given Morti a card to stick in her pocket when she goes off on her own in the citadel. It’s basically just a little business card of sorts that she’s suppose to hand out and get back that literally says, “Hi, I’m an identity confused Morticia/Morty (not September/Ember or any other weird shit she says) from dimension C-323. I’m not lost or abandoned, I’m just annoying but they’re looking for my Rick so don’t take me. Okay, now fuck off. Scram!”. As you can tell, she did not write this note herself. 

Rick

1) Rick’s been alone most of his life. After his parents died in the crash, he never really had any friends and was never able to marry so no other family either. Really since they died he’s been on his own.

2) In truth, I imagine Doofus Rick really wanted/wants a family like how all the other Ricks have, but it just never happened for him. The Diane (or other versions of Rick’s ex-wife) in his universe just wasn’t interested in him and honestly just felt like he was beneath her-- something she actually admitted to his face when they were in college and he tried to ask her out. Mostly any other time he tried to ask someone out since has had the same result anyways.

3) Medical science has always been more his area of expertise than other kinds of science which is the main reason why he was able to cure cancer in his dimension among other forms of awful diseases. I think he’s well known in his universe as medical genius and hero, but really he just considers himself just a regular person, nothing special.

4) He probably owns way more books than he’ll ever read in his life, most old science books and such.

5) My Rick never got a Morty like in the tv show, I imagine he tried once and the council laughed in his face. Due to this, he instead simply tries his best to help any other Morty in need that he can.

6) Rick occasionally volunteers at the Morty Daycare Center when he has free time.

7) If it wasn’t for his lack of time, Rick would most likely get a pet to help out with how lonely his life can be at times but I think he genuinely worries about not being home a lot to be able to take care of it. If he was home more, I could totally see him getting a rescue from a shelter somewhere, but he doesn’t want to burden an animal with lack of human interaction.

8) Rick’s not as stupid as everyone believes him to be, he’s actually fairly smart and can hold conversations really well. The thing with him is just mainly anxiety that makes him extremely awkward. If he didn’t worry so much about what others thought of him he’d probably have the confidence of a regular Rick but still way nicer than a typical Rick.

Summer

1) It’s common knowledge to everyone at this point that Beth turned into an absolute disaster of a mother after Jerry died which is the main reason why Summer and Beth have such an explosive and abusive relationship. Pretty much everyone in their neighborhood, their extended family, and at Summer’s school knew about the bad blood between those two but everyone just stays quiet about it tbh, even after Summer started showing up to school with bruises. Everyone assumes these two have always hated each other, but something that isn’t really known by others is that Summer actually loved Beth a lot when she was very little despite the abuse her mother constantly took out on her. She was young and trusted the only adult in her life even if she didn’t love her back, this is something Beth sometimes brings up in arguments to either annoy Summer or in attempts to guilt trip her. Usually it’s something along the lines of “I remember when you used to love me! You thought the world of me back then!”.

2) One sure-fire way to get Summer to shut up/get under her skin is to tell her she’s exactly like her mother or even looks like her. Summer wants absolutely nothing to do with Beth and even though the two of them are very similar in looks, she does not want to be associated in any way to her mom. She heard Beth say too many times that the two of them were way too similar that even the notation of that coming from someone else, especially someone Summer considers close, will immediately struck her silent and it will bother her immensely. 

3) Summer absolutely loves astrology and knows a lot on the different zodiac signs. She’ll sometimes even guess someone’s zodiac before even knowing it and will even point it out all the time just to mess with people-- for example: “That’s such a Gemini thing to do too, you really are one, huh?”.

4) Although Summer’s attitude is a big reason why it’s hard to get close to her, that’s not the main reason why. It’s actually Summer’s trust issues that prevent her from having close relationships with people outside of her inner circle. Summer is very particular about who she trusts and lets into her life. Her trust is very hard to earn and very easy to lose. If she feels her trust has been broken, she’s very quick to immediately discontinue a friendship/relationship with someone and back away. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me.” as the saying goes. Now with that said, it is possible to gain Summer’s trust back again depending on the person, but just know it’s gonna be ten times harder to gain back the second time than it already was the first time. So good luck!

5) Summer started smoking at the age of fourteen due to it being an appetite suppressant. Since Beth spent most, if not all, of her unemployment check on alcohol, there wasn’t really ever food in the house for them to eat, at least not food that was safe to consume. On the rare times they did have groceries, Beth would sometimes hide food when she was drunk then forget where she put it, eventually leading to it going molded. However instead of throwing any expired food away, she’d always save it and then serve it to herself and Summer at a later date. Due to this, Summer often had a lot of food poisoning growing up and got most of her meals from school or a friend’s house. Smoking helped her not feel hungry on times when food wasn’t available to her so she actually was a much heavier smoker as a teenager compared to now. Being out on her own now, Summer has cut back quite a bit, going from about a pack or so a day to smoking maybe four cigarettes a day. She doesn’t really smoke in her house much either, always goes outside when she wants to have a smoke.

6) Despite not being religious in the slightest, Summer went to church with Tricia ( @tr0ubled-s0uls​ ) on the occasional Sunday just to cause drama with her friend. The two of them would often talk/giggle really loud, take turns “coughing” while not-so-subtly stating “God’s not real”, and in general doing whatever to interrupt church service. The two of them would often find a way to leave early to go smoke out in the parking lot or bathrooms and would get breakfast after service. The main reason they’d do this is because Tricia’s dad often times forced her to attend his church services as he was a pastor. Needless to say, Tricia’s dad did not like Summer, for more reasons than just one.

7) Summer still visits Jerry’s grave from time to time and leaves fresh flowers on his tombstone. She’ll never admit it cause she thinks it sounds stupid, but sometimes she just vents to his graves or talks to him like he’s actually there even though she doesn’t believe in ghosts.

8) Speaking of which, Jerry is the one who actually named Summer! The only reason why she knows this is primarily because of her grandparents, but also because she has a vague memory of him proudly boosting about that when she was little. The reason why he named her was because shortly after Summer’s birth, the doctors asked Beth to hold her and feed her in attempts of bonding with her child but she wanted nothing to do with her. Instead Jerry did these things for Summer and when asked what she wanted to name her child she claimed she didn’t care. This in turn left the responsibility on Jerry in which he chose the name Summer because she was born during the summertime and he thought “Summer Elise Smith” sounded beautiful.

[jefferoni-quotes]

Stalling Expulsion

Hey, gems! This is my day 13 of @hamiltonholidaycalendar ! I’m super excited and really proud of this. Sorry if the endings a bit rushed, I ran out of time,,,

Rated: Teen Audiences

TW: Mentions of violence, drugs, death

-

Whistled tones whipped down the halls of the large country boarding school, as wind teased the maroon common room curtains through extravagant glass windows. Crumpled currant toned bed drapes lined the circular boys dormitory, and the posts hung bed curtains which were open and crinkled. Clothes lay strewn across the old hickory wood floors, a mix of old socks, pyjama pants and unwanted shoes. The whole school had gathered in the great hall for breakfast, all but four. They were huddled in the dormitory bathroom, slinking around waiting for first class.

The eldest being sixteen years old, tall and broad, yet far from the most responsible. The youngest was a lanky French boy, who had recently become fifteen. The other two were also fifteen, but one not far off his sweetest sixteen. None of which were very responsible when it came to fun. Smarts, well, you may suppose they contained some sort of brain-cell. Although it appeared to bounce around their head like a DVD screensaver. You may even conclude, that the four shared a brain-cell, taking single turns on it like small children sharing a piano.

The oldest of them all was the one whistling, he was tweeting a soft tune, one that seems to be without meaning or purpose, but instead one you may subconsciously commit yourself to when bored.

Smallest of them, a boy who had his fifteenth a simple month before, tightened his ponytail and swiped a sniffle from his nose. Perhaps skipping breakfast in favour of hanging around like a gang of uneducated delinquents wasn't their best plan, but at the very least they had learned not to do it again. Not that he ever planned to admit his wrong doing.

One boy, who bore a curled ponytail that hung low, sat on a sink, his back against the wall and his feet in the porcelain bowl of it. He piped up with a skip in his voice, "why did we skip morning meal again?" He inquired in his distinct North-Carolinian accent, as his stomach growled angrily at him. He was missing out on his wake up food of three slices of buttered toast and a pile of breakfast potatoes and his body was not overjoyed.

"Because we don't want to be around Jefferson, Jackie," the smallest replied, sinking down. Jackie was not the boys birth name, but instead a curious nickname gifted to him by his closest of friends. The boy who has spoken had his back pressed against the wall, and he crossed his legs as he sat.

"You know," the French boy started, "I don't really see the problem you all 'ave with Thomas," he shrugged and continued leaning against a stall.

The whistling abruptly came to a close, and all heads turned to look at him. "Dude, he's horrible," the eldest started, "like, do you see the way he acts around Alex? He treats him like some sort of dirty scum he found on the bottom of his polished boots."

"The reason he hates me is even worse! Just because I don't have rich parents to go crawling back to for Christmas. He acts like I'm a dirty spot that he doesn't want to touch. Like... Like I'm food at the bottom of the sink, ya know!" Alexander explained, gesticulating as he did so. John, the student who had been nicknamed 'Jackie', leapt from his resting place in the washing basin and patted Alexander on the back gently in a friendly attempt to calm him down. "Sorry for yelling, Laf... It's just... He bugs me so much."

Lafayette shrugged his shoulders, his wine red blazer - part of his uniform forming creases as he did. "I mean, he's targeting you because you're an orphan, non?" Alexander nodded as a silent agreement and response, "well, 'e doesn't know that I am too."

"I completely forgot about that, Laf!" The broad-shouldered, tall boy examined a little too loudly. He found himself being bombarded by rushed hushing. "Sorry, guys," he rubbed the back of his neck bashfully.

Lafayette rolled his eyes. "Stop apologising, 'Ercules, we know you mean no 'arm," he assured and patted Hercules' shoulder.

"If I meant no harm, then why am I here?" Hercules sighed and shrunk into himself. The other three went quiet, they couldn't answer.

The boarding school was technically called, 'Fredrick's School for Troubled Teens and Youngsters,' but everyone just called it, 'School for Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks.'

Everyone who attended had been removed from public school for one preposterous thing or another. An assortment, ranging from fights to skipping school to just becoming a general nuisance.

Hercules Mulligan had been previously expelled from three schools, for fighting three people and hospitalising two of them. His reputation was ruthless and cutthroat, not afraid to start an attack at any moment. However, he was simply a big softy.

Alexander Hamilton had been ostracised from his school for arguing with the professor, who promptly frog-marched him to the head master, to whom he fought against once more. He was told to leave and not come back after referring to his head master as, "a pompous fool, detecting the frivolous minds of easy moldable youngsters to bend them to his will."

John Laurens was excommunicated from Church, and from his very Catholic school when they discovered his homosexuality. His father had disowned him from home and sent him off to the 'School for Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks,' in the hopes that it would, "return him to his Godly roots and strip him of his male desires for other men." His father, Henry Laurens had accepted the concept that sending him to a school where he would spend 99% of his time with guys and had imagined that it would 'fix' his brain into lusting over women.

And then there was Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Mortier, Marquis de Lafayette. His exclusion was a momentous occasion. His head mistress had discovered the acute, shimmering pocket knife in his satchel, after demanding a look as another child had accused him of threatening him with said weapon. The child had ridiculed his younger brother who had sadly passed away just mere weeks before. So yes, maybe he should've been thrown out of school for that. He goes back and forth, contemplating if what he did was incredibly illegal or, in fact, the right thing to do.

The four knew fine well why the other people were tossed from school, however, no one else knew anything about no one. Asking why another person was attending the boarding fortress was distinctly taboo. Like a horrid, violent invasion of protected privacy. Only if the student felt astonishingly close to you, and trusted you with their life and prized possession would they ever confine in you the reason they attended Fredrick's.

Another point, everyone came from privileged backgrounds, that were somehow ruined. Lafayette had rich parents before they died, and then he had a rich uncle. Then he was rich. John’s parents had piles of money, and then they disowned him. Alexander was fairly middle class, and then their debt skyrocketed when his father abandoned him and his mother passed in his arms. And then there was Hercules. The other three spoke much more articulated than him. He just simply couldn’t. He wasn’t from a bad family, but they most certainly weren’t the most educated they could be.

"Listen, Herc," Alexander inexorably spoke up, offering comfort, "we're all here for one reason or another! I called my professor a sithering idiot, and them the head master a pompous fool, John's gay and Laf, hell, Lafayette threatened someone's life. Lets be honest, we all deserve to be here," he peered up at Laurens, who had retaken his position of roosting on the sink, "apart from Jackie, obviously."

John defended himself and chortled. "Hey, I'm not complaining. Before I had to listen to homophobic slurs all day, now, I can simply be a homo every hour."

Hercules' solid frown tweaked, and he turned to laughter. "Okay, okay, fair enough," He lifted his arms up before slumping them down, "you got me."

"Yeah we did," Lafayette nudged Hercules harshly, which earned him a shove back.

-

His toast lay burnt and uneaten, and half a sausage rolled around his plate depressingly. A metal fork was lazily tossed by his tray, and the red paper napkin was scrunched up on his plate. His seat was barren now, as was the one across from him.

Reticent nattering echoed all over the spiral staircase as two boys clambered upwards towards their shared dorm. Their room was home to eight boys, all of which they both hated, except for each other and one pupil, a young male Aaron Burr from New Jersey and Thomas supposed that Lafayette wasn’t too awful.

Thomas pushed the oak dormitory door open with a dig. He went on speaking, but was silenced by his friend flapping his hand in front of his face. "James-"

"Shush! Can't you hear that?" James spoke, "there's people here..."

Muffled exclamations voiced themselves from behind the bathroom gateway. Thomas crept over and pressed his ear up to the carved antique door as every ounce of his sixteen year old attention span focusesd in on eavesdropping.

There was a blast of flat laughter that exploded from the room, and he furrowed his eyebrows. “What are they saying?” James breathed serenely as he watched Thomas run his fingers over the door handle.

“Quiet, Jemmy,” Thomas instructed in a low voice, “they’re talking now.”

A despicably mocking articulation voiced itself from beyond the door. “Oh yes, I mustn’t! For I shall mess us my sheep’s wool hair! No! Do not touch that! It was sent to me from a Gucci store from my father!” It was in a false Southern accent.

“Holy crap, Laf! I don’t like how much that sounds like him!” The familiar boisterous tones of Hercules Mulligan exploded out the cracks in the door. “Okay, okay, John your shot.”

He heard the rambunctious crackling of knuckles, and a clearing of throats. “Hello, y’all! Rootin’ tootin’! I’m from the fucking South where the grass grows green and I’m better than y’all! Because I’m Jefferson, and I hate you if you don’t have a rich father!”

James, who had been tuned in to the harmful conversations past the door, soared upwards towards him. “Tommy, don’t-“ he muttered harshly. James had been friends with Thomas since the very beginning, he had been there to witness every hardship and every tantalising moment where the world stopped spinning. He was by the teens side throughout each adversity, and would comfort his best friend without exception.

Yet Thomas didn’t listen. He shoved the door open unceremoniously, the sheer force blowing a gust towards the bed drapes. His stance remained strong and rigid as four pairs of brown and hazel sprinkled eyes darted towards him. With the pupils that burned into his skull, from both in front of him, and James who had settled behind him, Thomas composed himself. He ran a hand through his hair before taking it upon himself to stride back to his bed.

His lips remained stuck together as if to be two birds of a single feather. Alexander looks at his friends, and they rise from their resting places, stiff joints cracking like grandmas getting up from their nap in an armchair. Their stomachs rumble hungrily, screaming for nutrients, but they push past it to ignore it. James looks back at his accomplice, who is rummaging through a antiquated, walnut duffle-bag. He can see Thomas’ look of determination as he pulls his hand from the storage unit and wanders back to the bathroom, past the gang who was previously been loitering in the room. In his hand, is a egg-shell painted cardboard packet of sorts, and a rectangular glass lighter. The lighter is black as a cold winters night, and Thomas carries these into the bathroom with him.

“Thomas!” James exclaimed as he spotted the two items. One of the many reasons Thomas was at the boarding school. The bathroom door slammed closed and the all too familiar sound of a clicking lighter.

The four friends glance at each other, sharing a mutual moment of what the hell is happening, as James pounds on the oak door. “Thomas, I swear to god, open the door. I won’t let you do this again!”

“What’s going on?” Alexander hissed from the corner of his mouth. His dashing attempt to be inaudibly failed, as a result of his naturally vociferous voice it failed. Madison’s head rotated to face the not-so-fantastic four with a choleric grimace.

Lafayette opened his mouth to begin explaining, yet no words escaped. Only a brief swept of breath as he fidgeted with his own fingers, bending them in ways that really shouldn’t be possible.

“Why were you talking about him?” James spoke softly, as if the delinquents were toddlers who needed to be lulled off into slumber.

Alexander shifted on his heels. Why this small student was so intimidating fascinated him. James was always a perpetually timid youngster. Someone who sat at the very back of the class, head constantly bent down over his work, hunched and tired. Yet now, his eyes glimmered with rage and every inch of his body shook with unsheathed emotional torment.

“We-“ Alexander started with confidence, but trailed off quickly into inaudible - protecting himself - mumbling.

James rattles his knuckles off the door again. "I won't let you get expelled from another school!" He exhaled and fiddled with the handle. "Just, open the door... We can talk about this." He grovelled desperately. The door handle moved, and Thomas deliberated from behind the gateway. As the wood cracked open, James spread into a grin.

Thomas exhaled smoke downwards, blowing it down to the very depths of hell. "What?"

"You're smoking," John observed with a light shudder. He planted himself on Alexanders bed, tugging at the wrinkled sheets and grasping for the cream pillow, for the scarlet cover of the cushion had been stripped from it, and thrown somewhere across the room, it had been missing for days. Alex theorised that Thomas had disposed of it out the window, or in a garbage can in the main courtyard. Either way, Alexander and the students residing within that dormitory were lucky that a staff member hadn't inspected their room just yet. If it was found that articles of bedding had been cascaded like dirty wash paper then a worthy punishment would be awarded.

“Am I?!” Thomas took the lot cigarette away from his lips and glared at it. His eyes narrowed, “am I really!?”

“Yo, there’s no need to talk to him like that!” Hercules piped up with a stare. “He didn’t do nothin’ to you,” he spat.

Thomas rolled his eyes and took another quick puff of the cigarette before disposing of it in a sink, and running the cold water tap. “Yeah, he said nothing sure.

“Stop,” Alexander insisted, beginning to rise. He observes as Thomas struts into the dorm and throws his cigarettes packet and lighter onto his bed, before dropping down on James'.

Lafayette hastily crept over to beside Thomas and sighed. "My apologies, Thomas," he confessed, "it was wrong of us to... Eh.... Talk bad about you." He stumbled over his words, a bit like a newborn calf taking its first wobbly steps.

"I'm like, 99.99% sure smoking really breaks school guidelines," Hercules chimed in, twittering away in the congregated background.

"Yeah? Why else do you think I'm here? Because I want to be?" Thomas jeered, messing with his hair absentmindedly.

"Well, because your family bathes in pots of melted gold and dines on silver platters served by their monkey butler," Alexander prompted immediately, the words sliding off his tongue like venom before he could halt them.

Thomas and James scoffed in unison. "I'm here because I was expelled for drug use," the jaws fell to the old floors, "weed, mostly. Over the counter painkillers and anti depressants. That sort of stuff, ya know?" He shrugged, so nonchalantly.

“Drugs?!” John exclaimed in utter shock. “How did you even get a hold of them?!”

“Well,” Thomas gridlocked in his tracks, hitting the breaks on his brain, “why am I telling you this?” He sneered at himself, fanning his face in his own stupidity.

“Because... you want someone else to trust?” James mumbled, “other than me...”

Thomas’ face fell and he grit his teeth in annoyance as he came to terms with James’ unsettling words. He ran a tattered hand through his mop of sheep's wool. He remained mute and simply made a random hand gesture.

“James,” Hercules breathed and was quiet for one of the first time ever. Or ever since the others had met him, “why’d you get sent here? What’s the deal?” They all gasped, the taboo had been broken, and Hercules graced his eyes around the room, his pupils widening with terror. “Wait, no! I didn’t- it’s... it’s just, you don’t seem like the person to be sent to Annoying Pricks and Rich Dicks school.”

Madison blinked rapidly in thought. “No, no, it’s fine...” he took a large inhale, “I was bullied a lot... and one day I just... flipped. I attacked them when they followed me to class through the halls. The kid got away with a slap on the wrist and I was expelled. Then sent here...”

“Yeah, just after I was expelled, James came after me. Missed me that much?” Thomas chortled, stretching his arms and for just a moment, his arms and head placement made him look vaguely like a cactus in the dry Arizona sun.

“Not really, class was much quieter. I did lose my only protection though, because someone decided to get high on marijuana in the boys bathroom!” James really emphasised each syllable of the word, ‘someone.’

Thomas frowned lamentably. His sighs echoed around the room. “In fairness!” He stopped, “I actually can’t justify it. I was just being stupid and impulsive okay?”

Alexander cackled away loudly in the back before taking enough initiative to muffle it with his hand.

“Oh you can’t laugh, ‘amilton! You swore your professor out!” Lafayette teased with a snicker and Hercules let out a soft, ‘ohhh!’ punctuating Lafayette’s words.

“Yeah? And you whipped a knife on someone!” Alexander yelled back playfully. Hercules continued to laugh.

“Oh, shut up, ‘Erc! You can’t say anything! Two people in ‘ospital who?” Lafayette jerked, progressively getting himself more and more worked up. His cheeks were glowing a lipstick red and his eyes darkened with fury.

“‘Two people in hospital, who?’” Hercules mocked in a false French accent. It was awfully stereotypical, and fake as hell. But it annoyed Lafayette to the point where he leapt from his bed and pointed pressingly in his best friends direction.

“Lay off!” John jumped up and separated the two with his arms. “Okay! We all did things wrong, like... I disappointed god!” John beamed with a singsong voice, pleading to cheer those up.

“Disappointed god?” Thomas questioned pressingly, his voice ripe with curiosity.

“I was kicked from Catholic school for my ‘deadly homosexuality that could infect others’.” John chortled and moved away from Lafayette and Hercules, adjusting to the fact that the tension in the room was still thick enough to be sliced with a knife.

“Oh damn,” James whispered mistily to himself, scratching at a scab in his forehead, located just about his right ear.

Alexander rolled his eyes. “Oh no! I’ve been infected by the gay!” He yelled and Thomas exploded with laughter. It made Alex smile, and realise that Thomas, in fact, had a nice, boisterous chuckle.

“You can’t pray away the gay,” Hercules spoke in his often loud voice, smirking for the world to see once more.

“We can sure as hell try!” Lafayette knelt on his bed and placed his hands in a prayer motion. “Be gone, homo!”

John fell backwards dramatically and flopped to the floor. His hand touched his forehead as if fainted.

Alex snorted.

The dormitory door clanged with the pound of a fist. “Get to class, boys!” The familiar booming and authoritative tone of Head Master Washington exploded into the dorm.

“Sorry, Mr Washington!” Alexander apologises with a grit of his teeth.

“Suck up,” Thomas mouths and stands, leaving with James hot on his polished heels.

Lafayette stood and nodded towards the ajar door. “Wanna go hang in the courtyard?”

“And risk getting detention?” Hercules scoffed, “obviously.”

“Let’s fucking go!” John exclaimed, picking up his boots and shoving them on his feet.

From the slightly open door they could hear a yell. “Thomas, I swear to god!” And then the muffled reply, ‘what? She despises both of us, let’s just hang out in the courtyard!’

“Sounds like someone else is thinking about skiving class!” Lafayette sniggered, hoisting the door wide open and heading out. “Coming?” Hercules nodded and rushed after him.

Alexander stuck his fist in the air and clapped. “Anything to skip Mrs Reynolds class!”And they ran down the stairs, leaping down the stairs two or three at a time. It was dangerous.

And they loved it.

[p-eppermintea]

Break

AO3 LINK

Pairing: Erwin Smith / Levi Ackerman (Eruri) Characters: Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman, Mike Zacharias, Furlan Church, Isabel Magnolia Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: N/A Word Count: 2527 Tags: Enemies, Levi hates Erwin so much lol, mild violence, Erwin kinda sucks, Very slightly implied sub/dom dynamic, only slightly, Set during No Regrets Excerpt / Summary: 

 “But if I have to beat you into submission, I will. I don’t care who sees, or what they think.” He looks up at Levi, all eyelashes and thick eyebrows. “I will break you.”

The sharp smack of the back of Erwin’s hand connecting with Levi’s cheek resonates throughout the stables. He hits him so hard that Levi is knocked off his feet, sprawling awkwardly across the dirt. He whirls around to look at Erwin, baring his teeth. “Fuck you!” he spits.

Erwin stalks towards him. His hands are balled up into fists at his sides – ready and deadly like any other weapon. “You need to learn some manners.”

“Fuck you,” Levi repeats. His insult is met by a swift hit to the side of his head by Erwin’s shin. He falls back, his head connecting hard against the ground. He can hear a collective gasp from the other trainees, and Furlan and Isabel shouting his name.

Levi barely has time to spit onto the ground before Erwin swoops down to grab him by the collar of his uniform and yank him up to his feet. He holds him just above the ground like a mother cat carrying her young around by the scruff.

Levi bares his teeth at the man, kicking out at him with his legs. Who the fuck does he think he is? He’s convinced that Erwin just likes to take any chance to smack him around like a punching bag. All Levi did was be a little rude to his training officer. It’s not like he even really wants to be here. Perhaps Erwin is trying to prove something, although Levi’s not sure what or to whom. Is he concerned about his position within the Corps? Or perhaps he just does it for fun. Perhaps he just hates me.

Levi wanted to kill Erwin before, but now he really wants to kill him. If it wasn’t practically a death wish, he would take him on right here, right now.

But no. He’ll wait. He’s going to take his time killing Erwin Smith, and he’s going to enjoy it.

Erwin and Levi stare each other down; fierce grey eyes meeting piercing blue. The tension is palpable, and no one says a word or so much as twitches until, finally, Erwin throws Levi back down. Levi stumbles a little, trying to regain his balance. He balls up his fists, fingernails digging almost-painfully into his palms. They continue to stare.

It’s not like Levi can exactly fight back and give it all he’s got right now. Surely not with Mike right behind him, constantly sniffing up Erwin’s ass like some kind of lapdog. He thinks back to Mike’s hand forcing his head into that disgusting puddle. Maybe he’ll make him watch Erwin die, and then kill him after, too.

Erwin’s thick eyebrows furrow. The disdain in his gaze is obvious. “I expect you in my office after training,” he says, and then he turns on the heel of his boot and retreats back towards the office building. Mike follows closely behind, throwing a “Get back to it!” over his shoulder.

As soon as Erwin is completely out of sight, Isabel and Furlan run up to Levi, ready to make a fuss. Levi shrugs them off, though. He’s far too pissed off to even talk to his friends right now. He goes back to his horse and reaches up to stroke the side of her neck. Stay calm. Don’t ruin everything you’ve been working up to.

 While everyone else heads to the mess hall for dinner, Levi makes his way to Erwin’s office. Isabel had given him a sad look and promised to save him some of her dinner. Such bullshit that he has to miss out for whatever ridiculousness Erwin has planned. He knocks heavily on the door and waits outside with his hands clasped behind his back. He knows Erwin is in there – he can hear him talking on the other side of the door. He’s left to wait outside for far too long for his liking. He starts to pace outside of the office, painfully impatient.

He’s about to give up and just leave, reluctance obedience be damned, when the door swings open and he’s finally face to face with Erwin. “Levi,” he says, stepping aside. “Come in.”

Levi supresses an annoyed grumble and steps inside the threshold of Erwin’s office. It’s a rather spacious office, almost impressively so. There are a couple of chairs in front of a desk, and a God-ugly rug spread on the wooden floorboards. Mike is leaning against a bookshelf with his arms crossed. The sneer he gives Levi is almost laughable to him.

Erwin strides swiftly past Levi and back to his desk, sitting down at the chair. He folds his hands in front of him neatly and they both stare each other down in silence. Slowly, one of Erwin’s eyebrows lifts. What the fuck does he want from me?

They stare at each other for a while. It’s like some sort of weird standoff. Levi refuses to be the first one to act. As it seems, so does Erwin.

Finally, Mike sighs heavily. “Salute, trainee,” he snaps.

Begrudgingly, Levi stands up straight and slaps his fist against his chest. “Sir,” he says, simply.

Erwin leans back in his chair, crossing his legs on the way. “Levi,” he replies, just as curtly. He has this strange sort of coolness to him. His devil-may-care attitude is downright unappealing, but Levi guesses that’s probably the exact reason why so many people trust him as a captain. Half of the idiots here would die for him in a heartbeat, and it makes Levi sick.

“At ease, Levi,” Erwin commands. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Levi, and he’s half convinced that he doesn’t even blink. Is he trying to be intimidating? “Mike, you can leave us alone.”

Mike leaves without a word, but Levi can feel his glare boring a hole into his back. Glare away, asshole.

Erwin is silent until the door closes behind Mike. He gestures in front of him. “Sit.”

Levi obeys. The chair creaks under his weight, but it’s sturdy. He’s determined to remain non-committal and as distant as possible, but he tosses up between obedience and just being downright rude.

“You need to learn to trust me, Levi.”

“What reason do I have to trust you?” Levi challenges. He guesses he’ll go for something in-between. He slips down into his chair and brings one foot up to rest on the seat. Finally comfortable, he tilts his head back. “What choice do I have, even?”

Erwin huffs out a laugh. “I suppose you don’t really have a choice,” he agrees. He leans forwards, serious. “Trust the Survey Corps – and more importantly, me – or spend the rest of your life imprisoned.”

“I wonder which would be worse.”

Erwin laughs for real at that, leaning back again. “A true dilemma, indeed,” he says. “We all end up the same in the end. Why not use your incredible talents for the good of humanity?”

Levi stays silent. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a bit of a thrill from being a member of the Survey Corps. Even after getting his citizenship – and, providing that he doesn’t get caught or prosecuted for killing Erwin – he sometimes thinks that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay. He has way more potential than anyone else in the Corps, that’s for sure.

It’s nice to feel useful and powerful. He supposes that’s why his life underground felt generally fulfilling to him.

“You’re talented, Levi. More so than anyone else here,” Erwin tells him. “I know this, and you haven’t even faced a real titan yet. I really hope that you can learn to trust me. I know that it won’t happen overnight, but I do know that we will make a great team someday.”

Levi furrows his brows. “You want me to trust you,” he says slowly, “and yet you kick me around in front of everyone.”

“Above all else, you need to learn obedience.” Erwin says it like it’s obvious. “Don’t you think that the best way to teach someone obedience to beat it into them?” He pauses, looking up and directly into Levi’s eyes. “Especially when they’re as difficult as you.”

“You’re sadistic,” Levi hisses.

“That, I am.”

In that moment, there’s a tentative knock at the door. Erwin makes a delighted sound and stands up. “Come in,” he calls.

A small trainee with blonde hair opens the door and peeks her head in. “Um, I brought your dinner for you, Mr. Smith, sir,” she says timidly.

“Excellent.” Erwin approaches her and takes a platter out of her hands. “Thank you.”

She salutes and leaves without a word. The military has always creeped Levi out. He wonders what Erwin has done to earn her salute and her trust.

Erwin sets a shitty metal plate holding a bowl of soup, a small loaf of bread, and a couple of steamed potatoes in front of Levi. “Eat with me,” he requests. Or, it sounds like a request, but Levi knows it’s an order. He sets his own dinner down at his side of the desk and sits back down. He passes Levi a knife, fork, and spoon.

Levi regards the cutlery. The knife is blunt and essentially useless. He flicks his gaze back up to Erwin, who is already digging into his bread and soup. Could he kill him right here, right now? Just leap over the desk and jab the fork into his neck.

He’d probably be killed on the spot if he even tried and failed. Or, maybe not. Erwin seems like the kind of sick fuck who would still try to keep him around, anyway. For the sake of humanity. That’s always been his reasoning for wanting Levi to work under him.

Levi may hate his guts, but at least his intentions seem decent enough. It’s almost a shame.

Although, he’s not sure what the consequences of killing Erwin could be. There’s no one like him, that’s for sure. Everyone says that Erwin’s tactical abilities are some of the best, and he’s a natural-born leader. They all seem to think that Erwin is humanity’s only hope right now. And maybe under different circumstances, Levi might, too.

Ripping into his bread, Levi shakes the thought out of his head. Isabel and Furlan’s citizenships and wellbeing are more important to him than Erwin’s life ever will be. They’re his family. They will always come first, and they deserve a comfortable life on the surface.

Erwin and Levi eat quietly, and a little awkwardly. While Levi is avoiding eye contact, he takes a look around the office. It’s nice, he guesses, but fuck. He can see the dust in the air, and he doesn’t even want to think about the possible disarray inside Erwin’s desk drawers. If he wasn’t so starving, he would be completely put off his dinner.

When he looks back at Erwin, he’s looking right at him. It’s downright creepy, but if that’s how he wants to do thing, Levi is more than happy to oblige. He stuffs bread into his mouth and stares right back at him. What is he looking at? If he’s expecting Levi to say something, then he’s sorely mistaken. He’ll sit there and stare at him all night if he has to. He’ll never deny that he isn’t a stubborn man.

If Erwin is going to lead Levi straight to his death, then he’s not going to just let it happen without a fight.

Erwin knows this.

Erwin puts his spoon down softly in his half empty soup bowl. “Do you want to know what I think?”

Levi takes a bite out of one of his potatoes. “Not really,” he says, chewing while he talks. It’s gross and rude, but he’ll do anything to cement the fact that he won’t completely submit to Erwin – even in petty shit like this.

Erwin goes on anyway. “I think you’re smarter than everyone thinks you are. And you’re better than everyone thinks you are, too,” he tells him. “You’re better than those two friends of yours, who will only hold you back.” Levi bristles at that and opens his mouth to snap back at him, but Erwin quickly continues. “And maybe you’re even too good for me.”

He leans forwards, fire and determination in his eyes. “But I’m your only option for survival right now. You’re just too much work for anyone else to want to deal with, even if you are unbelievably skilled.”

Levi scoffs. He really is full of back-and-forths. How exhausting. “Am I supposed to be flattered or insulted?”

“I don’t care. You really have no choice, so I’m not interested in flattery. Or insults, for that matter.” Erwin folds his arms. “But if I have to beat you into submission, I will. I don’t care who sees, or what they think.” He looks up at Levi, all eyelashes and thick eyebrows. “I will break you.”

Levi can’t help but shudder at that. For some reason, he completely believes him. He won’t give up so easily, but he is certain that Erwin will do whatever it takes to make sure he submits. He stays silent at that and finishes off his final potato. A tiny voice in the back of his mind wonders if perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad to submit completely to Erwin. Almost cringing, Levi shoves that voice further back. Absolutely not.

Erwin, satisfied at Levi’s reaction (or lack thereof), goes back to eating like nothing happened. Levi slowly puts his cutlery back on the plate.

For some reason, and for the first, Erwin’s words are affecting him. I will break you. He’s already broken – it’s hard not to be, with the life he’s had – but Erwin will find a way to break him even more, eventually, and he has no doubts about that. It’s unnerving.

Levi decides that while Erwin Smith might be all charisma, piercing blue eyes, and jawlines; he’s also evil. That’s probably why he’s made it this far.

“Are we done?” Levi asks.

“Sure,” Erwin replies. He sets his cutlery down. “I expect you back here first thing in the morning, though. We have a lot of work to do.”

Supressing the urge to roll his eyes, Levi nods and stands up. “Yes, sir.” He salutes half heartedly and turns to leave swiftly. He sees a hint of Erwin’s smile.

Once the door is shut behind him, Levi heaves a sigh. He takes his time walking back to the barracks, mulling everything over.

On one hand, Erwin Smith is his ticket to a comfortable life within the walls. If he just gets his job done, he can disappear with Furlan and Isabel. Open a tea shop or something, and finally live comfortably.

But on the other hand…

Some part of him sees potential in Erwin and their proposed partnership; and an even sicker part of him is already starting to respect him, in some way. He may be a lot of things (annoying, relentless to the point where it’s almost pathetic, and incredibly fake), but he’s certainly ambitious. Rightfully so, as well.

I will break you.

A voice inside of Levi hisses; not if I break you first.

[aubrey-plaza]

I've seen a lot of fic rec lists lately given everything happening. Do you have any recommendations to get us through the lock down? p.s. I love everything you write.

omg thanks anon!!

I know these are scary times so have here a quick and dirty list of my fave fics starting with Staubrey and then just... veering offcourse. They’re all femslash except the one I marked with an asterisk but yeah. 

as always, I’m not gonna rec my own fics on my this list bc that’s cheating but if you wanna read them pls click this link and that ends the self promo for today lmao

 recs under the cut!

Stacie x Aubrey

Snowbound  

by ACamp_toner / @stepintotherevolve​ (22.171, complete, rated E)

summary: The Bellas go on a ski trip and Staubrey happens

notes: this has amazing smut and features just enough jealousy to spark these two idiots into a meaningful talk. there’s also side bechloe and a healthy dose of humour.  

The Howl

by @tiny-maus-boots​ (30.739, wip/currently being written, AU)

summary: Stacie's pack is forcing her into a corner but Fate has other plans for her - if she doesn't die first.

notes: werewolf!Stacie and vampire!Aubrey who meet on a full moon and fuck. there’s more to it and a great backstory that’s being wonderfully developed (trust me, I’ve been told of the plans and I’m ri-ve-ted). also has some amazing soft moments and a fab spark of heat.  

Prelude in Lydian Mode

by knappster / @ss-staubrey​ (5972, complete)

summary: Remember tonight... for it is the beginning of always.

notes: I will rec this fic til the day I die. It’s such a lovely brand of staubrey and a perfect example of the idiots to lovers trope.  

and the songbirds are singing (like they know the score)

by angelranger (2326, complete)

summary: It came as a slight surprise to Stacie that Aubrey, the same Aubrey who had grown up in a strict and dysfunctional household, was just so good with her daughter.

Bella seemed to unearth a side of Aubrey that was just so unbelievably soft, a side Stacie is almost positive even Aubrey didn’t know existed. But there she is, sat on the carpeted floor in front of the coffee table, sat right next to Bella, drawing outlines for the four year old to colour in.

notes: oh god i love a good, soft bella fic and this one hits all the right notes. it’s sweet and lovely and features singing Bella to sleep which is like. my weakness. go leave some more love on this deserved fic!

Sansa x Margaery

The Crackpots and These Women

by Netgirl_y2k (8089, complete, WEST WING AU)

summary: "You're in charge of press relations," Yara told Margaery, gesturing to Sansa. "Relate.”

summary: yeah you read that fuckin right that’s a West Wing AU. My love for this mashup has no bounds. It’s so perfectly coy, the way I imagine adult Sansa and Margaery would be, combined with the hopeful tinge of WW, and the pining of a somewhat open ended yet hopeful finish. If you like either of these universes, read this.  

Kind Regards

by MsCFH / @hell-much (9835, complete, explicit, part of a series!)

summary: Margaery Tyrell is determined on setting foot in the Northern market of Westeros by establishing a collaboration between the Tyrell Corporation and Stark Incorporated.

The only problem? The likewise gorgeous and stubborn Deputy Managing Director Sansa Stark.

summary: holy hell this fic is amazing. they hate each other SO MUCH. the author has a vibe setting skill that makes me want to weep. the smut is off the charts hot like there are literally no words. go read it and then read the series bc it’s *that good*. please go get your church lady fan before reading because you WILL need it.  

EXTRA NOTE: same author is writing a post-s6 canon compliant fic where Marg is actually still alive and if you’re looking for a full weekend activity, go ahead and binge this one (it’s a wip but is still being updated)

lay all your love on me

by 1once (9498, complete, show-compliant)

summary: It has been eight years since her demise.

But for the world of her, she cannot figure out why. For what? Why was she alive?

notes: i will say just one thing: flower. magic. okay, i’ll say more things. this fic is the redemption show!marg deserved combined with the fun supernatural magicky aspect of flower magic that’s just so in character. reading this fic feels the way a warm cup of tea in your hands on a cold winter’s day does.  

til you come back home

by heart_nouveau (7978, complete, AU - modern setting)

summary: “Using one-night stands to distract myself from my crush on my roommate counts, right?”

-

Margaery Tyrell is an ambitious law student who needs a perfect grade point average if she wants to stay at the top of her class - and she is not going to throw that away by falling for her very attractive, very sweet roommate, one Sansa Stark.

notes: margaery is a moron with feelings aka my favourite type of character.  

Birds of Prey’s Dinah x Helena

Siren Call

by ThanksForListening (3300, complete, part 2 of a series) 

summary: "It always happened in the quiet moments. The early hours of the morning, when the leftover energy from a mission hadn’t quite disappeared yet. The sleepless nights, when memories clawed their way into her mind and wouldn’t let go until her screams released them. The lazy afternoons, when the radio played softly and melodies she’d almost forgotten danced around her lips. It was only when the world went still that Dinah felt her watching.

She didn’t remember the first time she noticed it. The staring. Maybe it was because Helena was always watching everything and everyone around them that Dinah didn’t realize how frequently that attention fell on her. How it felt different. Helena looked at the world with suspicion and anger and indifference, but not her. She looked at her with something much softer, something she hadn’t found a name for just yet. No word in her arsenal was deep enough or strong enough to describe it.

Whatever it was, she could feel it now.”

notes: gahhhhh this fic. “What do you see,” she finally asked, “when you look at me?” is a line that I’m gonna think about until the day I die. this is the second fic in a series and you can read it as a standalone but the first fic is also fuckin amazing

after the afterparty

by novoaa1 (1181, complete, set right after the movie ends)

summary: The Canary had let loose a delighted snort at that, as if she found the whole thing somehow laughable.

(Which it wasn’t, to be clear—laughable, that is.)

“Are y'all seeing this shit?” she’d turned to ask the rest of them, earning a giddy squeal from Harley and a bemused scoff from Montoya even whilst Helena remained stock still in place, dutifully blinding herself with one hand. “Absolutely adorable.”

“Shut up,” Helena had hissed back more out of instinct than anything else, though her tone was markedly devoid of any real anger.

(And if Helena had felt her cheeks flush ever so slightly beneath her palm at the Canary’s glib assertion, she certainly didn’t let on.)

Or: Sionis falls. The rest of them remain.

notes: just. read it.  

knew your love (before i kissed you)

by z0ejake / @zxyjxy (58.263, wip / currently being written, rated E for the last chapter)

summary: Surviving the massacre of your entire family at the age of eight is a pretty impressive feat. Training for fifteen years in Sicily until you can kill a man with one hand and a hairpin is also a pretty impressive feat. Returning to the city where your family was cut down and killing every single person involved in their deaths is maybe the most impressive feat. Somehow, it's never been enough for Helena.

notes: bro this fic is a masterpiece and zoe is a genius. features absolute moron feral dumb jock helena and my favourite version of dinah: patient and endeared and a little teasing.  

the war is over (and we are beginning)

by ace_verity (12.573, 5/5, complete)

summary: The thing is, Helena has no idea what comes after.

The past fifteen years, she’s had a singular goal. She's never given any thought to what she’d do once she killed the men who murdered her family in front of her.

Maybe, Helena realizes, she never actually thought she’d make it this far.

—

In which Helena Bertinelli joins a team, buys a cactus, beats up criminals, goes to church, bakes bread, and falls in love.

(Not necessarily in that order.)

notes: this fic is beautiful and perfectly explores a lost Helena. I also love the way Renee is written in this and the whole vibe of the story is just *chefs kiss*

cheap shampoo

by OfElvesAndAliens (1609, complete)

summary: The thing is, Helena is a rigidly focused kind of gal, iron rage forged into skilled precision. Dinah has also noticed it in the little things, like the way she frowns a bit when she's doing something as trivial as writing, her penmanship always neat and firm. That same tiny furrow of her brow is showing up again while she's methodically whisking some eggs in a bowl.

Dinah finds it cute. Fucking sue her.

notes: oh god but i love a bedsharing fic and this one? feeding and post-mission and just winding down together??? ohhhh my god

two extra random goodies just for fun:

Lamplighter

by the_years_between_us (116.915, wip, rated E)

show/ship: The Fall, Stella Gibson/Reed Smith

summary: Stella gets a call from Reed directly following the final episode of The Fall S3.

notes: this is one of only a handful of wips that I’m keeping up with and reading constantly. It’s written like goddamn poetry and I love an older ship with more baggage, because the emotions here run so much higher with their shared history and the tentative steps they’re trying to take. Also, given the source material, this is almost cathartic to read.  

Nothing to Lose*

by tielan (8013, complete, rated E)

fandom/ship: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Maria Hill/Steve Rogers

summary: “It’s one of the traditional rituals of manhood,” Natasha observes as they’re sparring. “Kill a man, fuck a woman.”

notes: listen. i know. okay? i know this seems like a crackship. but I love it SO MUCH and this author writes so well that I’ve been fully converted. ~something some of you have told me I do for you~ so go read this fic, and then read the others, and then fall in love and join me in this lonely ship. You won’t regret it.  

I’ll be writing while in isolation so if you have any Dinah/Helena or Stacie/Aubrey prompts, shoot ‘em my way!

and also hit me up for anything, as always. 

peace and love, and stay safe everybody!

[lgbtqareads]

15 Books I Want To Read That are Releasing in the Next 6 Monthes

Every six monthes, I am excited to see the new LGBTQA+ YA books of the next monthes and while thos December, I was a little weirded out to not find them on B&N Teen previews, I was happy to see that Dahlia Adler posted her lists and opinions at lgbtqreads.com. So, of course I went through and narrowed the list from 72 to 34 to 15, only choosing books that I felt I really wanted to read and not just fall for all the amazing synopses and covers, which let's be honest, are all truly masterpieces.

But enough introduction. Let's get into my to be bought (and read) list of the first six monthes of 2020:

We Used to Be Friends by Amy Spalding - JANUARY 7TH

Goodreads Synopsis: Told in dual timelines—half of the chapters moving forward in time and half moving backward—We Used to Be Friends explores the most traumatic breakup of all: that of childhood besties. At the start of their senior year in high school, James (a girl with a boy’s name) and Kat are inseparable, but by graduation, they’re no longer friends. James prepares to head off to college as she reflects on the dissolution of her friendship with Kat while, in alternating chapters, Kat thinks about being newly in love with her first girlfriend and having a future that feels wide open. Over the course of senior year, Kat wants nothing more than James to continue to be her steady rock, as James worries that everything she believes about love and her future is a lie when her high-school sweetheart parents announce they’re getting a divorce. Funny, honest, and full of heart, We Used to Be Friends tells of the pains of growing up and growing apart.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Relationship breakups may be heavily covered in YA, but friendship breakup stories are still few and far between. Enter the story of James and Kat, two girls who were once beyond close and now watch their friendship unravel as college nears. Things are complicated for both girls: James’s mother has left her and her father for another guy, and she doesn’t know how to talk about it, not even to Kat or her still-too-present ex, Logan. Kat’s discovering that her feelings for her new friend Quinn aren’t strictly “friendly,” and in fact, she’s realizing she’s bisexual and falling head over heels for a girl. It’s a bittersweet story to be sure, and while it definitely has its fun scenes, close moments, painful familial interactions, and tingly romance (what Spalding book doesn’t??), you’ll spend much of the book wishing you could push the characters together and say “Just talk already”…but isn’t that exactly how life goes?

My Opinion: As someone who has been through too many friendship breakups to count, this read is going to be devastating. But I put this book on my list for one reason: the synopsis made it feel so much like life that I couldn't help but feel that the story would pull me into James and Kat's universe and tear my heart into pieces. I absolutely cannot wait to have my heartbroken.

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The Gravity of Us by Phil Stamper - FEBRUARY 4TH

Goodreads Synopsis: As a successful social media journalist with half a million followers, seventeen-year-old Cal is used to sharing his life online. But when his pilot father is selected for a highly publicized NASA mission to Mars, Cal and his family relocate from Brooklyn to Houston and are thrust into a media circus.

Amidst the chaos, Cal meets sensitive and mysterious Leon, another “Astrokid,” and finds himself falling head over heels—fast. As the frenzy around the mission grows, so does their connection. But when secrets about the program are uncovered, Cal must find a way to reveal the truth without hurting the people who have become most important to him.

Expertly capturing the thrill of first love and the self-doubt all teens feel, debut author Phil Stamper is a new talent to watch.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: This is a lovely and bighearted debut chock full of space nerdery, big dreams, new beginnings, and social media scandal. Cal’s life is completely uprooted when his dad shocks them all by being chosen for a space mission, something his family had never taken seriously as a lifelong dream. Worst of all, he’s forbidden from documenting life in the new compound, forcing him to leave his massive social media following behind. On the bright side, there’s Leon, son of another astronaut on the program and immediate thief of Cal’s heart. But when things go awry in the program and secrets are revealed, Cal will have to decide exactly what he’s willing to do to get the truth out there, and who he’s willing to lose.

My Opinion: Social Media? Media circus? Texas? NASA? First loves? And a choice that could implode Cal's life from the inside? The name Cal? Other than Texas, a state which I hate, all of this adds up to something good, hopefully so good that I can forget that Texas is involved at all. So, basically, it has to reach Red, White, and Royal Blue levels, which is the only book so far that has made me like Texas at all. But I trust that it will do well. Plus it was reviewed by 4 of authors on my queer bookshelf - Becky Albertalli, Adam Silvera, Shaun David Hutchinson, and Caleb Roehrig. Bonus points for not being a graphic novel like I feared it was.

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Only Mostly Devastated by Sophie Gonzales -MARCH 3RD

Goodreads Synopsis: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda meets Clueless, inspired by Grease.

When Ollie meets his dream guy, Will, over summer break, he thinks he’s found his Happily Ever After. But once summer’s ended, Will stops texting him back, and Ollie finds himself one prince short of a fairytale ending. To complicate the fairytale further, a family emergency sees Ollie uprooted and enrolled at a new school across the country—Will’s school—where Ollie finds that the sweet, affectionate and comfortably queer guy he knew from summer isn’t the same one attending Collinswood High. This Will is a class clown, closeted—and, to be honest, a bit of a jerk.

Ollie has no intention of pining after a guy who clearly isn’t ready for a relationship. But as Will starts ‘coincidentally’ popping up in every area of Ollie’s life, from music class to the lunch table, Ollie finds his resolve weakening. The last time he gave Will his heart, Will handed it back to him trampled and battered. Ollie would have to be an idiot to trust him with it again.

Right? Right.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Grease goes gay YA in this rom-com about two boys whose dreamy summer fling comes crashing into a harsh reality when our lead, Oliver, transfers to Will’s school thanks to a family crisis-driven move, only to find out Will isn’t Out and isn’t about to be. As Ollie finds his own ways to settle in, he can’t seem to shake Will’s presence. But whether there’s a future for them remains to be seen. This sophomore novel is warmly delightful and delightfully warm, with some tears on the side for the aforementioned family crisis, and some hard-earned queer solidarity is the icing on the cake. 

My Opinion: The last musical-ly queer book I read was What If It's Us? so Ollie and Will have a lot to live up to, but it gets points for getting an Instagram shoutout from Becky Albertalli herself. From the synopses, it sounds like a case of strangers to lovers to strangers to maybe friends to maybe something more and hopefully a happy ending, but what I look forward to the most is rewriting Summer Nights as I read this book.

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Super Adjacent by Crystal Cestari - MARCH 17TH

Goodreads Synopsis: Claire has always wanted to work with superheroes, from collecting Warrior Nation cards as a kid to drafting "What to Say to a Hero" speeches in her diary. Now that she's landed a coveted internship with the Chicago branch of Warrior Nation, Claire is ready to prove she belongs, super or not. But complicating plans is the newest WarNat hero, Girl Power (aka Joy), who happens to be egotistical and self-important ... and pretty adorable.

Bridgette, meanwhile, wants out of WarNat. After years of dating the famous Vaporizer (aka Matt), she's sick of playing second, or third, or five-hundredth fiddle to all the people-in-peril in the city of Chicago. Of course, once Bridgette meets Claire-who's clearly in need of a mentor and wingman-giving up WarNat becomes slightly more complicated. It becomes a lot more complicated when Joy, Matt, and the rest of the heroes go missing, leaving only Claire and Bridgette to save the day.

In this fresh and funny take on the world of supers, author Crystal Cestari spotlights what it's like to be the seemingly non-super half of a dynamic duo with banter-filled romance and bold rescues perfect for readers seeking a great escape.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Claire is a superhero fangirl, a card-carrying member of Warrior Nation. And when she finds an unexpected way (with some unexpected help) into winning an internship with the Chicago WarNat branch, it should be everything she’s ever dreamed of. But that unexpected help is proving very difficult to work with; it’s in the form of Girl Power (aka Joy), the newest hero and a pain in Claire’s butt. A very, very cute pain in Claire’s butt.  But distraction or no distraction, Claire’s determined to prove herself, especially when she and Bridgette, a WarNat, who’s tired of being “the girlfriend” to an even more famous hero, decides to mentor her and they end up having to be exactly the heroes Chicago needs. 

My Opinion: Two words. Super. Heroes.

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Music From Another World by Robin Talley - MARCH 31ST

Goodreads Synopsis: It’s summer 1977 and closeted lesbian Tammy Larson can’t be herself anywhere. Not at her strict Christian high school, not at her conservative Orange County church and certainly not at home, where her ultrareligious aunt relentlessly organizes antigay political campaigns. Tammy’s only outlet is writing secret letters in her diary to gay civil rights activist Harvey Milk…until she’s matched with a real-life pen pal who changes everything.

Sharon Hawkins bonds with Tammy over punk music and carefully shared secrets, and soon their letters become the one place she can be honest. The rest of her life in San Francisco is full of lies. The kind she tells for others—like helping her gay brother hide the truth from their mom—and the kind she tells herself. But as antigay fervor in America reaches a frightening new pitch, Sharon and Tammy must rely on their long-distance friendship to discover their deeply personal truths, what they’ll stand for…and who they’ll rise against.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Talley is one of queer YA’s most prolific genre jumpers, but she seems to be making herself beautifully at home in historical with this follow-up to 2018’s Pulp, again set amid a context of vital queer American history. This time around, it’s 1977, and Tammy Larson would love more than anything to come out of the closet as a lesbian, but that’s a major no-go where she lives. Her only outlet is to write “letters” to the activist Harvey Milk, at least until she’s matched with a pen pal to whom she can write letters for real. Sharon makes for a much better companion than Tammy’s diary, and she can sympathize, given her brother is gay and feeling all the same misery in the wake of Anita Bryant’s leading to a successful repeal of their protections. Together they’ll find their own brand of activism and learn to fight back against a world of hate. 

My Opinion: Ever since reading Annie On My Mind by Nancy Garden, I have been craving more historical sapphic girls. With Pulp in my Kindle library and this in my future shopping cart + Casey McQuiston's time traveling book in 2021, I am bound to get a fix for that craving soon. Hopefully, it will also cure heartbreak.

Loveless by Alice Oseman - APRIL 2ND

Goodreads Synopsis: The fourth novel from the phenomenally talented Alice Oseman – one of the most authentic and talked-about voices in contemporary YA.

Georgia feels loveless – in the romantic sense, anyway. She’s eighteen, never been in a relationship, or even had a crush on a single person in her whole life. She thinks she's an anomaly, people call her weird, and she feels a little broken. But she still adores romance – weddings, fan fiction, and happily ever afters. She knows she’ll find her person one day … right?

After a disastrous summer, Georgia is now at university, hundreds of miles from home. She is more determined than ever to find love – and her annoying roommate, Rooney, is a bit of a love expert, so perhaps she can help.

But maybe Georgia just doesn’t feel that way about guys. Or girls. Or anyone at all. Maybe that's okay. Maybe she can find happiness without falling in love. And maybe Rooney is a little more loveless than she first appears.

LOVELESS is a journey of identity, self-acceptance, and finding out how many different types of love there really are. And that no one is really loveless after all.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Oseman’s crossed the pond before with Radio Silence, so this American’s fingers are crossed she’ll do it again with her newest, about a girl named Georgia who’s struggling with the fact that she’s eighteen and has never had so much as a crush. She’s sick of people thinking she’s broken or weird, and it isn’t like she isn’t into romance; she’s just not into it for herself. When she gets to university, she thinks maybe she can “fix” things with her roommate’s help. But what if it turns out there’s nothing to fix, and Georgia’s great and perfectly capable of happiness just as she is?

My Opinion: Alice Oseman has written a-spec characters before, but it's possible that this seemingly aromantic character will be the one that I'll read first. Not to say Radio Silence wasn't amazing, I just wouldn't know. But I can't wait to find out when I read it after I read this one. And then maybe her other books too.

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Verona Comics by Jennifer Dugan - APRIL 21ST

Goodreads Synopsis: Jubilee has it all together. She’s an elite cellist, and when she’s not working in her stepmom’s indie comic shop, she’s prepping for the biggest audition of her life. Ridley is barely holding it together. His parents own the biggest comic-store chain in the country, and Ridley can’t stop disappointing them–that is, when they’re even paying attention. They meet one fateful night at a comic convention prom, and the two can’t help falling for each other. Too bad their parents are at each other’s throats every chance they get, making a relationship between them nearly impossible . . . unless they manage to keep it a secret. Then again, the feud between their families may be the least of their problems. As Ridley’s anxiety spirals, Jubilee tries to help but finds her focus torn between her fast-approaching audition and their intensifying relationship. What if love can’t conquer all? What if each of them needs more than the other can give?

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Dugan debuted with one of my absolute favorite queer YA rom-coms (seriously, if you haven’t yet read Hot Dog Girl, do yourself a favor), so I’m thrilled to see her returning with another one, this one an m/f pairing where both halves of the couple are bi (or, more accurately, one is bi and one is still figuring it out). [Jubilee] is an elite cellist with a major audition coming up and a side job working at her stepmom’s indie comic shop.  Ridley works at his parents’ comic shop too, only theirs is a big chain, and no friend to the little guy. Which makes it a little difficult when the two meet at a comic-con prom and immediately hit it off, despite their family feud. I’ll take Romeo & Juliet with a much happier ending and heaps of bisexuality any day, wouldn’t you?

My Opinion: Romeo and Juliet retelling + comic convention prom + bisexuality + indie comic shops = a recipe for me to like a book.

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When You Get the Chance by Tom Ryan and Robin Stevenson-MAY 5TH

Goodreads Synopsis: [Edited] Cousins Mark [from the East coast of Canada] and Talia [from the West coast of Canada] go on a road trip to Pride in Toronto as they search for love and adventure and uncover family secrets along the way.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: One of the things I’m often asked to recommend is books that feature mlm and wlw solidarity, and I especially love giving answers that show it not just in characters but in authorship. Here, two Canadian rock stars of queer YA come together with a story about cousins named Mark and Talia who are reunited from their respective Canadian coasts after a death in the family and decide to take a road trip together to Toronto so Talia can see her non-binary partner and Mark can get to Pride. The two don’t have much in common, and they’ll have to let Mark’s little sister tag along, but they both know some kind of magic awaits them in TO, and they can’t wait to get there. 

My Opinion: There is too much to love about this book. Canada! WLW or WLNB/MLM solidarity! Canadian road trip! Road trips in general! Canadian Pride! PRIDE IN GENERAL! A nonbinary s/o! TORONTO, CANADA! And family secrets! Plus it gives off You Know Me Well vibes, and that's one of my favorites.

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The Extraordinaries by T.J. Klune - MAY 5TH

Goodreads Synopsis:

Some people are extraordinary. Some are just extra.

Nick Bell? Not extraordinary. But being the most popular fanfiction writer in the Extraordinaries fandom is a superpower, right?

After a chance encounter with Shadow Star, Nova City’s mightiest hero (and Nick’s biggest crush), Nick sets out to make himself extraordinary. And he’ll do it with or without the reluctant help of Seth Gray, Nick’s best friend (and maybe the love of his life).

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Klune’s doing double duty this year (or maybe even more? Damn, it’s hard to keep up), following up an adult contemporary fantasy with his first entry into YA, about a boy named Nick who happens to be the Extraordinaries fandom’s most popular fanfic writer, and who aims to be even more extraordinary when he meets the hero he’s been crushing on. (But maybe he’s in love with his best friend, Seth? It’s complicated. It’s always complicated.) 

My Opinion: What can I say? I'm a sucker for books about fanfic writers. And for best friends to lovers stories, so hopefully this is one, and not a fan-dates-hero story.

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The Summer of Impossibilities by Rachel Allen - MAY 12TH

Goodreads Synopsis: Skyler, Ellie, Scarlett and Amelia Grace are forced to spend the summer at the lake house where their moms became best friends.

One can’t wait. One would rather gnaw off her own arm than hang out with a bunch of strangers just so their moms can drink too much wine and sing Journey two o’clock in the morning. Two are sisters. Three are currently feuding with their mothers.

One almost sets her crush on fire with a flaming marshmallow. Two steal the boat for a midnight joyride that goes horribly, awkwardly wrong. All of them are hiding something.

One falls in love with a boy she thought she despised. Two fall in love with each other. None of them are the same at the end of the summer. 

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Allen’s been a personal favorite of mine since her subversive feminist debut, 17 First Kisses, and I’m thrilled to see her releasing her first queer YA, which basically looks like a gay Traveling Pants except not all the girls actually wanna be spending the summer together at the lake house where their moms became besties. Most of them can’t even stand their moms right now. All of them have secrets. And two of them…well, two of them are in love with each other, so one way or another it’s gonna be a hell of a summer.

My Opinion: Look, I'm going to be honest, I saw that it was co.pared to Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants and I immediately added it to my list. Plus, strangers to friends to lovers? I love.

Date Me, Bryson Keller! by Kevin van Whye - MAY 19TH

Goodreads Synopsis: What If It's Us meets To All the Boys I've Loved Before in this upbeat and heartfelt boy-meets-boy romance that feels like a modern twist on a '90s rom-com!

Everyone knows about the dare: Each week, Bryson Keller must date someone new--the first person to ask him out on Monday morning. Few think Bryson can do it. He may be the king of Fairvale Academy, but he's never really dated before.

Until a boy asks him out, and everything changes.

Kai Sheridan didn't expect Bryson to say yes. So when Bryson agrees to secretly go out with him, Kai is thrown for a loop. But as the days go by, he discovers there's more to Bryson beneath the surface, and dating him begins to feel less like an act and more like the real thing. Kai knows how the story of a gay boy liking someone straight ends. With his heart on the line, he's awkwardly trying to navigate senior year at school, at home, and in the closet, all while grappling with the fact that this "relationship" will last only five days. After all, Bryson Keller is popular, good-looking, and straight . . . right?

Kevin van Whye delivers an uplifting and poignant coming-out love story that will have readers rooting for these two teens to share their hearts with the world--and with each other.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: If this book looks like the cutest, fluffiest, most make-you-melt kind of romance, it’s because it is…at least in the little romantic bubble that ensued when  when Kai took advantage of a dare that requires Bryson Keller to agree to date the first person to ask him out every Monday morning for that week. But outside the bubble, the world is still wondering who Bryson Keller’s mystery girlfriend is, the one person not to shout from the rooftops that she’s got the guy. And Kai isn’t gonna be the one to tell them it isn’t a girl at all; his spontaneous request made Bryson the first and only person he’s ever come out to. But when both the answer and Kai himself are forcibly outed, he and the boy he’s come to fall for, the boy who’s only just realized he himself is gay, will have to band together and put their relationship through the ultimate test.

My Opinion: A lot of these books are comparing themselves to Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, and this one's even comparing itself to To All the Boys I've Loved Before, so it's basically setting me up for disappointment, but I will admit, I am judging this book by it's cover, and that smile is too cute to resist.

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I Kissed Alice by Anna Birch - MAY 26TH

Goodreads Synopsis: For fans of Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda and Fangirl, I Kissed Alice is a romantic comedy about enemies, lovers, and everything in between.

Rhodes and Iliana couldn't be more different, but that's not why they hate each other. Hyper-gifted artist Rhodes has always excelled at Alabama's Conservatory of the Arts despite a secret bout of creator's block, while transfer student Iliana tries to outshine everyone with her intense, competitive work ethic. Since only one of them can get the coveted Capstone scholarship, the competition between them is fierce.

They both escape the pressure on a fanfic site where they are unknowingly collaborating on a graphic novel. And despite being worst enemies in real life, their anonymous online identities I-Kissed-Alice and Curious-in-Cheshire are starting to like each other...a lot. When the truth comes out, will they destroy each other's future?

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Sign me the hell up for literally every enemies-to-lovers f/f rom-com, but especially this one, where the girls who hate each other at Alabama’s Conservatory for the Arts have no idea they’re falling for each other online as they collaborate on a graphic novel for a fanfic site under their online identities. That’s…everything I love in book? Yep, pretty much!

My Opinion: This one is on my list because Alice is basically my favorite sapphic girl name ever after my rewrite of the song, All the Girls Love Alice. Unfortunately, neither girl is named Alice, but it does seem to involve something about Alice in Wonderland. Maybe the graphic novel they're creating is a queer retelling of the classic story? Can't wait to find out.

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Six Angry Girls by Adrienne Kisner - JUNE 2ND

Goodreads Synopsis: A story of mock trial, feminism, and the inherent power found in a pair of knitting needles.

Raina Petree is crushing her senior year, until her boyfriend dumps her, the drama club (basically) dumps her, the college of her dreams slips away, and her arch-nemesis triumphs.

Things aren’t much better for Millie Goodwin. Her father treats her like a servant, and the all-boy Mock Trial team votes her out, even after she spent the last three years helping to build its success.

But then, an advice columnist unexpectedly helps Raina find new purpose in a pair of knitting needles and a politically active local yarn store. This leads to an unlikely meeting in the girls’ bathroom, where Raina inspires Millie to start a rival team. The two join together and recruit four other angry girls to not only take on Mock Trial, but to smash the patriarchy in the process.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Kisner is three for three in putting gloriously queer YA on shelves, and I am in love with the idea of this newest, which takes the famous “Twelve Angry Men” and situates it in Mock Trial with an ace lead. Raina’s killing it at life, until suddenly she isn’t. Millie’s in a similar spot, having just been ousted from the all-male Mock Trial team. When the two pair up to start a rival girls’ team, it isn’t just their opponents they’re gunning for—it’s the whole motherfluffin’ patriarchy.

My Opinion:

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The State of Us by Shaun David Hutchinson - JUNE 2ND

Goodreads Synopsis: The State of Us is the story of Dean and Dre—the 16-year-old sons of the Republican and Democratic candidates for President of the United States—who fall in love on the sidelines of their parents' presidential campaigns.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis: Tis the year for political YAs, for obvious reasons, and this contemporary romance also does double duty of being a touching demisexual coming out story that happens to take place across the aisle. (The political aisle, that is.) When Dean, the son the of the Republican candidate, and Dre, son of the Democratic candidate, find themselves locked in close quarters, they’re surprised to find that they quite enjoy the company of someone else who knows what it’s like to be in the junior spotlight. Soon, romance sparks, which is a bit of problem considering the whole “opponents” thing, not to mention Dean still trying to figure out how to deal with and discuss the fact that he’s demisexual. But someone out there seems determined to make their problem much, much bigger, and they’ll have to figure out who wants their relationship outed, how they can make it work, and how they can reconcile a future.

My Opinion: While unfortunately this love story has no Prince from England or Wales, this book is definitely in the same genre as Red, White, and Royal Blue, though of course Dean and Dre will be more YA than our favorite international political couple. No matter what, I can tell I'm going to love the angst in this one.

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The Falling in Love Montage by Clara Smyth - JUNE 9TH

Goodreads Synopsis:

Saoirse doesn’t believe in love at first sight or happy endings. If they were real, her mother would still be able to remember her name and not in a care home with early onset dementia. A condition that Saoirse may one day turn out to have inherited.So she’s not looking for a relationship. She doesn’t see the point in igniting any romantic sparks if she’s bound to burn out.

But after a chance encounter at a house party, Saoirse is about to break her own rules. For a girl with one blue freckle, an irresistible sense of mischief, and a passion for rom-coms.

Unbothered by Saoirse’s rulebook, Ruby proposes a loophole: They don’t need true love to have one summer of fun, complete with every cliché, rom-com montage-worthy date they can dream up—and a binding agreement to end their romance come fall. It would be the perfect plan, if they weren’t forgetting one thing about the Falling in Love Montage: when it’s over, the characters actually fall in love… for real.

Dahlia Adler's Synopsis:

Love books that make you laugh, swoon, and cry? Then you are going to fall head over heels for Smyth’s debut, an Ireland-set romantic contemporary about a girl named Saiorse who’s losing her mother to early-onset dementia and is determined never to get involved with anyone as a result…until she meets Ruby, and all bets are off. The girls agree to a no-strings-attached summer of just the good parts of romance, the movie montage where the couple does all sorts of fun things as they fall in love. But when the end of the summer comes, will they be able to let go? 

My Opinion: The falling in love montage is my favorite part of love stories and I can't wait to read one set in Ireland! No strings attached? I don't think so Saiorse and Ruby. If they aren't together by the end of the book, I'll be tying the strings myself and writing fanfiction for days. I've only had one relationship that would qualify for a falling in love montage, most likely because I've only been in love once, and that's... ended, so I need something to fill my heart and this book just might be it.

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Check out @lgbtqreads for more recommendations and check out the link at the top of the post for the rest of the list!

[polcrity]

self para || eli vogel || FAMILY MEETING

There’s a twitch in his fingers, coming like waves crashing onto the shore. Eli’s never been to the ocean-- maybe a big lake or two with some sand, but there is still some part of him that can’t begin to fathom the never ending blue that one will always find at the edges of the map. It’s unnerving, isn’t it? The knowledge that there lies this… void. So deep and dangerous that humankind may never manage to explore it all? Tonight, he feels a bit of that void in himself, weighing his heart down with the knowledge that any semblance of redemption has been abandoned. All for what, some money? Power? He certainly hasn’t garnered any respect from the Vasile twerps, that’s for sure. But perhaps it's something less reasonable than that. Every man in Chicago wants to be as powerful as the chief of police. Every man in America wants to be rich. But how many want to see a man hung on a cross for pure enjoyment?

There is no do no harm equivalent for the police force-- at least not one respected by any man in blue. It’s a dog eat dog world out there and Eli has always preferred being the leader of the pack to the man getting the scraps. So what if a few Fausts and O’Sheas get thrown to the pack in the process? In truth, Eli gets a bit of a thrill in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees one of their names pop up in the recently deceased column. It’s a delight. Scum ridding itself of other scum and at no expense to the city? What more could a chief ask for. So, if a little sacreligious imagery is the way to get him one step closer to eviscerating that scum once and for all, he’ll be smiling while the hammer thuds against the nails.

He stands dead center in the basement, surrounded by sardine-like Vasiles, new recruits, and whatever category Mikhail can squeeze into, Eli realizes that this moment would only be sweeter with one addition: Dimitri. With what little time the man spends at home, it’s expected, but the pang of disappointment still burrows itself deep, pressing against the outer layer of the void that’s still slowly welling like a bubble in the chief’s abdomen. This is true excitement, threatened. Eli shoves the feeling down with a clearing of his throat. Hands rest firmly on his hips, veins prominent on his forearms, knuckles white with a tense grip. 

“Your father put me in charge for a reason, but---” his voice is firm, towing that line of aggression with the utmost care, “---I understand. I’m an outsider. I haven’t done anything to earn your respect.” Besides, of course, shield the family from the truth of the law for the last four years. Risked his life, devoted his time, done everything he could possibly do to benefit them. That’s all. Nothing special. Vogel isn’t close enough to Vasile, he supposes. When he speaks again, his tone has lifted, lightened, like a man at a podium detailing his journey to Christ. “I realized last night that I never had a proper initiation ceremony and I thought what better place to go through with it than right here?.” 

It’s with these words that he reaches out a hand to the night’s entertainment: a woman, maybe twenty-five, wrists cuffed to a wide, metal support beam. Her knees are pulled up as far as they can be, though her torso is forced to adhere uncomfortably to the cold metal. The concrete floor does nothing to help the shiver running up and down her spine. If Eli looks closely, he might be able to see a little puff of her breath every time her trembling body allows her one. And across from her, a large crucifix lying on the floor-- but there’s something odd about it.

“This is Trinity Green. I don’t think it can get much more Irish than this one.” It’s a strange attempt at a joke, “She’s been with the O’Sheas for awhile now. If my files are accurate--they are--about six years. She’s even killed a cop or two in her time.” 

The quiet whine that emits from her is entirely ignored.

“When I found Trinity, I asked her something. I asked her if she’d ever heard of old Saint Peter.” If he had a bible, this would be the moment in which he lovingly turned the pages to a fitting verse and recited it, “I was hoping, as a Catholic, that she would be able to tell me the story of how he died, but--” shoulders shrug as he watches her, wondering somewhere in the back of his mind if he would be this bold were her name Juliet and her eyes that beautiful hazel, “I guess over in the O’Shea camp, they don’t teach the good word anymore. I guess I’ll have to step in as Priest until they find a replacement for that old church of theirs.” 

He’s lucky the basement boasts high ceilings just like the floors above, and even more so that the surrounding property is so large that no neighbor could possibly hear the commotion. She’s begun that desperate, low sort of whine that animals get when they know they’re dying. It’s a sound of acceptance, of some innate knowledge that fate is catching up to them. Like a cat on its ninth life, Trinity knows there is no saving grace in the godforsaken Vasile home. The thing about this crucifix, Trinity can see out of the corner of her eye, is that it’s inverted. 

“Lev, if you’ll do the honors of holding her down.” As he speaks, Eli kneels down to unlock the handcuffs, allowing the girl mobility for only a moment as deftly tosses her body over, pulling her wrists up behind her back. The boy-- one of the few that Eli feels he can sink any semblance of trust into, at this point-- is snappy about it, holding the girl down as she thrashes weakly. It’s amazing what a few valium will do to control an animal not typically so easily subdued. Call it dirty, but Eli calls it smart. “Lay her down.”

It’s when he reaches into his pocket, feeling the long nails, seeing the girl laid down against the wooden beams, that it all becomes real for the chief. Once again, he imagines Juliet’s eyes, the way she’ll look when she inevitably finds this out. When she wanders into his office with such genuine sadness in her eyes, informing him that yet another crucifixion has been discovered. He wonders how long she’ll believe his empty words. She’s a smart one, after all, maybe even smarter than him when it comes down to it. Or maybe mercy will fall, and she’ll be murdered before every grain of justice left in the city slides between her fingers, like sand at the beach. That oceanic massive void has begun to climb its way into the beginnings of his throat, clamping hard against his windpipe. There is a light glaze of red over the whites of his eyes, just enough for Lev to see it when Eli leans down. The hammer, held firmly in his fingers, is now slick with sweat. 

“You see,” he holds her left hand down with his knee, though there is a new determination in her eyes and a limpness to her limbs. He’s seen it before. Soldiers don’t like to die crying. The nail hovers over her palm until Eli manages to center it, hammer resting atop it as he prepares his swing. “Old Saint Peter was sentenced to death, just like Trinity here.” 

The hammer goes up.

And when it falls, Trinity betrays herself. Her body convulses, chest pushing up off of the beam in one jolt. That low growl emits from the depths of her chest again.

“Peter said, I don’t feel worthy of dying like Jesus died.” Another fall, another metallic clang in the air as the nail is dug deeper into the wood. The rhythm soon follows, controlled like the seconds of a clock, ticking down until that overwhelmingly loud gong that strikes midnight. “Peter said, God’s done all of this amazing stuff, and what have I done?” The right hand follows suit, a new trickle of blood dripping in tandem with each strike. It takes ten in all to dig that deep into the beam, and an extra tap from Eli for good measure follows in a gesture so airy that it almost seems joking. It’s only when he kneels down beside her long, pale legs that she begins to thrash once more. His hands, now adorned with a tremble of their own, grip her ankles tightly, crossing one over the other so that her feet stack. With another gesture, Lev quickly takes his place holding her down, “So, Peter said…”

And he swears, in this moment, that if Juliet were in this girl’s place… he would do the exact same thing to her. 

“...Crucify me upside down.” The nail sinks through flesh with shocking ease, pinning her feet together. The whine has turned into a moan, which is quickly transitioning into a lazy scream. He’s heard the scream before. 

Soldiers don’t like to die crying.  But they always do.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

It only takes another minute of air thickened by the agonized wailing of the girl before Eli drops the hammer to the floor. It was in his childhood church that he saw his first stained glass window. It was a daunting thing, of poor Jesus dragging the cross that would soon be his fate on his back. It’s when he feels the splintering wood digging into the flesh of his own back that he begins to realize that, perhaps, this is a work of art in his own right. A man sacrificing his own morality for the greater good, bearing a cross on his back adorned with a victim of a city riddled with sin. 

And when the base of the cross finally balances with the help of Lev’s final push, Eli can only now feel the tears well at the corners of his eyes. With the first drip! of the blood from her purple-pale feet, the void is gone, replaced only with a feeling of overwhelming pride.