#sensory issues would so be a thing for the Eternals I mean really

[androidarmand]

i honestly just wanted to share my manifesto on armand and food/feeding stuff because in my headcanon these things go so deep for him and are very rooted in trauma and his sense of self like—

- obviously was starved at multiple times in his life, but particularly by the Children of Satan and just the lasting effect that scarcity has on him.

- in contrast he was canonically well fed during his time with marius, and it’s also a historical period with a different beauty standard that changes how he views these things compared to a modern person. i also have lots of thoughts on the body type armand has eternally and can’t change being something that can “go out of style” during time periods when the standard is to be really thin. but also just the fact that this was the time in his life that he was happiest and he was always well fed and never had to go without and him associating that comfort and safety with having more than enough to eat.

- i also feel like he’s just a very sensory-oriented person (he’s also just extremely autistic but that’s it’s own post) but that he seeks out good sensory experiences and how touching/smelling food and watching and listening to daniel eat and experiencing it through him is a way to access those sensations he can’t otherwise. especially him having daniel try things that didn’t exist when he was alive and describe them to him, and just that fascination he has with human experiences and how that translates to eating which is a deeply human activity.

- and then all of that previous stuff getting wrapped back up into him wanting to provide for daniel, and wanting to fill that role for him in general. and how he’s trying to replicate the dynamics of the time in his own life where he was happy and taken care of with daniel (also a whole post in itself). like he would find out daniel didn’t always have lunch money and be enraged that he was denied food in an era when there’s so much abundance. he wants to make sure that daniel never goes hungry when they’re together. that he never wants for anything. and it’s because he wants to make daniel happy but that intense need to comes from a place of such deep insecurity and fear of abandonment. and like i believe he truly wants to care for daniel, but at the same time the insecurity it comes from means that manifesting as him wanting to control daniel as well. and sometimes i feel like determining what/how/how much daniel eats is a way armand can be dominant in this caretaking sort of manner that makes him feel reassured that he’s giving daniel something he needs (and is therefore necessary as a person, bc armand’s got issues like that). and then daniel being sort of all over the place, and an addict and an erratic person in general and not eating consistently because of that, so the kind of control armand exerts over his eating habits being something that he does genuinely need in his life. and then we can zoom that concept back out to the whole of devils minion again, and how the roles of control and dominance and submission play out across their whole relationship.

honestly this post was just for myself to refer to but also a lot of general thoughts on how i can see these particular wires all crossing for armand and the aspects of his character im thinking about when i write him

[green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle]

THE NIGHT BELONGS TO YOU CHAPTER 3

Blade x fem reader fanfic

MASTERLIST

Summary of part 3 - Reader lives among stellaron hunters, makes genuine connections and slowly becomes one of them

Chapter 3 – Tangled up like branches in a flood 

Between playing games with Silver Wolf at which Y/n sucked, ( but enjoyed them, so who cares) and conversations with Elio (she was told by Destiny’s Slave himself to refer to him as such after short time) weeks passed quickly and happily with Stellaron Hunters. 

 Y/n couldn’t say that she wasn’t treated well, her room was spacious and comfortable one with king sized bed and huge bookshelf full of grimoires, they even put up a little herb garden in her room. She had supplies for her numerous hobbies, yarn for crochet and knitting, painting tools, even her favourite instrument to practice with to Kafka’s delight as she always craved some company while honing her violin skills.  

She was quickly introduced to her share of housework which wasn’t a terrible one, she got to do things she didn’t really mind doing especially those that others didn’t like, overall it wasn’t overwhelming. If anything she was too proud to admit but it seemed life together was much easier, at least no more triggering her sensory issues with washing dishes. With time her attachment to Stellaron Hunters grew.  

They behaved towards each other like a found family and there was nothing Arkonian missed more than her own one. Maybe that’s why she loved how Blade and Silver Wolf’s friendship looked like? Each time she noticed them joke around together and spend quality time regardless if it was work-related, going out in disguise to enjoy festivals or parallel play when Wolf gamed  and Blade slept with his eyes open next to her -  y/n thought about her father and how they used to do that too, minus the whole incognito thing.  

She wasn’t the part of their dynamic, yet it still brought her comfort. Even when she spent time with Silver Wolf Blade almost never spoke to her, despite his gaze always finding her and observing her every move.  

 - Y/n, would you like to play Tekken with me? Blade hurt his hand again, he can’t hold the controller properly. - Wolfie casually suggested, giving him a piece of bubble gum. He took it gently into his bandaged hand. Fresh blood was visible on white material. 

 - Sure, why not. Tekken 7 or 8? I main Kazumi or Jun. 

 - You like Mishimas’s girls? - teen teased her.  

 - What can I say, they have great taste in women, I mean... Have you seen Jun’s leg cutter move? So hot. - y/n didn’t even try to pretend she was normal about those characters. - By the way, what happened to our friend?  

 He winced at the word she chose to describe him with but didn’t oppose when y/n sat on the floor between his and Wolfie’s legs. She didn’t want to get the chips crumbs scrambled here and there on the couch stuck on her black pants.  

 - During the mission some glass shards from broken window cut his hand. Don’t worry, he heals much faster than average person, his curse does come with a few blessings. - Wolfie answered instead of the man, who looked like he wanted to say a few bitter words about such unwanted “blessings” that only delay his eternal rest. Unbothered by his grumpiness girl continued. - Here is your controller, we play the new Tekken. Blade just bought it for me today.  

 - That’s very kind of him. - y/n admitted. She only earned unamused glance from the man.  

 - He is way nicer than he seems to be at first, you will understand.  

Out of 7 matches they played y/n won only two, but claimed to be good at Tekken. Just, you know, trying new techniques for fun and gawking at Jun’s design. Wolfie turned out to be Yoshimitsu main but tried Hwoarang once. Blade didn���t utter a word through the whole game but passed them snacks from nearby table. Perhaps those spicy shrimp chips were enough for y/n to forget how annoying he could be sometimes. Did she imagine this or did he really gave up last few chips from his bowl so she could have them? 

*** 

Later, when Silver Wolf and Y/N were alone the former reassured her.  

 - Don’t worry about Blade, he isn’t in the best place mentally. He usually avoids outsiders like a plague. You are new here and we don’t know yet for how long will you be willing to stay with us or if we can trust you. It’s already a miracle he sits next to you out of his own will, I think he doesn’t dislike you. - girl grinned.  

 - I don’t know about that. - y/n laughed in response – Your gloomy friend constantly  stares at me like he wants to see all my previous lifetimes.  

Hacker cackled wildly at that.  

 - Oh come on, he’s not that bad. He is just... A bit intense. But trust me, he doesn’t hate you. You would know if he would. You haven’t seen him like that yet, he’s like some fallen angel of revenge. 

 - Sounds like I really don’t want to get on his bad side. - medium scrunched her nose. 

Even more often she marveled at Blade’s friendship with Firefly, the girl that craved life but hers was meant to be cut short, while he craved nothing more than for his immortal suffering to come to end, he could find some hope for peace only in death, just like one of Y/N’s relatives back then on Arkona... Yet Firefly and Blade deeply respected each other, understood each other in a way nobody else ever did and took care of each other in subtle way. It was so sweet.  

In general, y/n considered the way everybody here accommodated disabled people of the group without infantilising them or making them seem like a burden. For example – Blade let girls play on his phone, but when he needed them to type a message to somebody which was hard for him to do because of constant stiffness of his hands – he didn’t need to ask them twice even in the middle of unstoppable game. Perhaps the pain in his hands is the reason  why he barely used his phone in general. He always spoke to the girls with respect, never let them feel inferior despite age difference, y/n chose to believe that the day he got his ass kicked by Sam was not the only reason why. 

Firefly’s entropy loss syndrome wasn’t a tabu, nobody tried to pretend it wasn’t there, but it was not a secret that time spent together was precious to them due to her shortened lifespan. She was always the closest with Blade, yet y/n suspected the one who cherished her the most was Kafka herself. The problem is even if Kafka tried her best at being there for Firefly  it only seemed to create more distance.   

Y/n believed in Kafka’s good intentions towards her crewmates. She always checked on their wellbeing, listened to Silver Wolf’s ideas when nobody else took them seriously  and she was the one covering for them in front of the boss when they ignored the script on missions. The way in which girls asked her if they can bend the rules a bit each time made y/n remember how she used to ask her auntie to calm her mother down later if she wanted to misbehave. Despite that, y/n believed that Kafka, so known for being completely fearless, tried to shield herself from others to avoid getting too close. 

It came to her mind one day while she was cleaning and organizing Kafka’s collection of coats alongside it’s owner. 

 - This one might need to be repaired before it gets back into the closet. - y/n suggested. 

 - What is it dear? - woman furrowed her brow, taking a look at damaged sleeve Arkonian held in front of her. - Is that blood? I really liked this one...- she sighed. - Don’t worry cutie, the blood definitely isn’t mine. 

 While that woman was always charming, polite and elegant – she was also a mysterious one, doing her best to not pick up any  personal topics. She clearly wanted company, valued people around her and in some way, y/n was sure she needed them. Yet, she never truly let go of her defences.  She seemed to be honest with you, telling you things without sugarcoating, but at the end of the day you didn’t really knew who she was. She didn’t lie but she never opened up either. 

At one point this enigmatic woman put down the last one of her coats and looked up at the painting hanging on the wall. Artificial light enhanced her facial features, emphasized her subtle expression. Kafka had that kind of sadness in her eyes y/n only saw in people who lost somebody who meant world to them, full of regret as if her soul could burst out of the seams under the weight of words unsaid, unconfessed feelings. Quickly, she concealed those emotions and closed the closet door. Y/n didn’t ask about it. 

 She didn’t want to pry, sometimes we need to let people keep their secrets, it’s a form of dignity too, like clothing that covers your body. Y/n knew better than anyone else – it's not a good thing to show your open wounds to people. After all Arkona left a hole in her heart that will never heal. 

Still, she tried to fill it, went out to run whenever she could, hiked the mountains to feel the blood rush through her body. To feel alive. Usually Firefly joined her during those activities, when you know you don’t have much time left you try to make every day meaningful. More often than not she had to take on SAM form during those to not overwhelm her body. To Firefly having a chance to see the beauty of nature, of world around herself – that was everything, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing it one day. 

 During one of those hikes Y/n sat down next to younger girl on a boulder and passed her a thermos full of hot chocolate. They looked up at the setting sun, while two out of three moons this particular planet they chose to roam had slowly showed on the sky as pale crescents. Memories flood y/n’s mind. She turned her head towards her friend, only to see Firefly observing her with understanding in her eyes.  

 - Can I tell you something I haven’t told anybody else?- Y/n whispered with trembling voice.  

 - Of course, did something happen? - girl seemed to be concerned. 

 - Back then, on my home planet I used to live next to the mountain,  it used to be known in common language as Saintcross, our original name would sound too strange to you. You know what kind of reputation Arkonian language has. Whenever harsh winds and storms destroyed roofs of the houses in nearby villages my mother used to pray to Saintcross so it keeps us safe... She used to say it’s like a natural shield against those. I didn’t always believe that, cause in the area around them harsh winds were not uncommon but our home stood safe through it so I guess her prayers were listened to. Till the abominations came and split my mountains apart. - Arkonian’s face was wet with all the tears and she trembled so hard Firefly noticed it despite thick winter jacket covering y/n’s body .– Then there was nothing to protect us anymore. Nothing to pray to. Smoke covered sky so no stars shone above us at night and no sun was to be seen at day. 

Firefly didn’t knew what to do when people cried so she just held y/n till she calmed down. Then she spoke as well. 

 - My kind was meant to live fast and die in the flames of battle. In my lifetime I saw my comrades die again and again, I’m was used to losing those around me, that at some point I truly, foolishly believed that I can’t feel grief. We were made to fight Swarm but we lived like a hivemind ourselves. Only our purpose mattered, not who we were. To some extend we were made to believe we were all the same, like army of clones. - she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Arkonian’s arms around her tightened. - One thing I really need to do before enthropy takes me away from this world is to learn who I am. Only I myself can give sense to my life. I was made to burn, so in this fire I will forge myself in any shape I desire. - ambition shone in her eyes with intensity of the sun itself.  

 - I am sure you will reach your goal, maybe even to some extent it’s already done. - y/n gently smiled. 

 - Why would you say that? - girl livened up a bit. 

 - I never saw anybody burn as bright as you do. Take in everything like you do. Embrace life in all it’s colors. All stars shine in the sky but my people always looked up to the brightest ones. You remind me so much of myself from my younger days in that aspect, I used to beg my family to take me up the mountain as often as possible, just so I could feel closer to divinity of sun,  clouds and constellations. It made me feel so alive I wanted to scream from mountaintop. - y/n sighed. - Not to mention, growing up I had both a sweet tooth and tendency to try unconventional meals, I bet we would eat Oak Cake Rolls together if we knew each other back then. You need to try my favourite Anyżki cookies as well. 

 - Oh, do you know how to make them? I can use SAM's heating ability to help you bake them. - Firefly flexed a bit with a tiny smirk. 

 - Ummm...I need to refresh my memory, but as soon as I put my hands on that recipe we get to work bestie. 

Firefly took of her helmet and put her head on y/n's shoulder with pleased expression on her face. They watched as the third moon became visible, distant howling of wolves filled the atmosphere. Arkonian felt like in trance, tranquil after the storm of her emotions drained her energy. She sobered up once the first moon begun to set. 

- Maybe we should go. It’s getting late and I overheard Elio talk to Blade about something to do early in the morning tomorrow if everything goes well. - y/n’s voice interrupted peaceful moment they shared.  

Firefly got up and they walked back in complete silence, no words were needed. 

 Y/n didn’t know if her friend told anybody about what happened, but after she came down to the kitchen that night to get some pills for her insomnia, she met Kafka who silently gave her a cup of hot milk with honey with reassuring smile on her face.  

When she returned to her bedroom she found burning lavender incense placed on her bedside table, next to the small bouquet of red flowers identical to those Blade always had with himself. She didn’t recall putting any of those there, but was to tired to worry about that. Lavender managed to put her at ease, out of nowhere quiet violin music as hypnotizing as Kafka’s voice reached her ears and put her to sleep. For the first time since the fall of Arkona – she had no nightmares.  

*** 

Humming to herself y/n cheerfully went to Elio’s office. She felt so much better after that night, her first one of good sleep in years. Right before she reached for door handle her mind was engulfed with vision of way too bright light that caused her pain and out of it stepped Terminus holding a star in his hand, complicated sigil  drawn on it’s surface. Y/n felt her legs give up, she expected her body to hit the floor but then she felt the embrace of two strong arms, smell of fresh blood and Red Spider Lily flowers. Red, observant eyes of darkhaired male attentively checked for the shadow of discomfort in her eyes as he picked her up. She felt her cheeks blush under his gaze. 

 - Are you alright? - he asked.  

She wondered why a man with such an attractive, manly voice speaks so rarely. Yet when he did usually it was a witty response or a sharp remark. Out of all Stellaron Hunters he was the hardest to connect to, even Kafka allowed her closer than he ever did. Always so fixated on his pain and deathwish, he avoided anything that could get him attached back to his life, with exception of other Stellaron Hunters. Y/n hoped one day this privilege will also be hers to enjoy. She snapped out of her thoughts as Blade got concerned with her silence.  

 - I just had a vision. I need to go to Elio’s office, he should hear about this. 

 - No way I will let you go there on your own, you barely stand. - Blade sighed. - Let me carry you there if that really can’t wait.  

 *** 

Elio raised his tail up in excitement while he looked at the sigil’s sketch in front of him. 

 - So that’s what Terminus meant by those words last week. If I understand correctly this thing over here might be a special charm, when it’s put on a proper mechanism it allows to extract energy from stellarons, this might be a true revolution. Can you imagine? If we could use all those stellarons we sealed through the years to our advantage, one of the biggest threats against humanity working in it’s favour. Do you remember prototype we build in hopes of achieving such thing? 

 - Yes, I made sure craftsman working on it were the absolute best I could find. - claimed confidently Blade. - I took part of planning it’s design by myself, nothing had a chance to go wrong under my watch even if I couldn’t work on it with my hands. Yet, we failed. Do you suggest infusion could help the machine work in a more stable way? 

 - That’s what I believe Terminus tried to tell me. There is no time to waste, we need to act without hesitation. Y/n, are you ready for your first mission for Stellaron Hunters? - Elio asked tho he already knew the answer.  

 - Of course. - Y/n hurriedly assured him. - I am ready. 

 - Good – he purred in response – There is a stellaron in hands of IPC nearby that we can try your sigil and Blade’s machine on. Grab it from the workshop and you are ready to go. According to my visions everything should go smoothly. I will give you coordinates of the object, you must attempt to seal it within machine and bring it here. Blade already knows this particular base, he and Kafka had a mission there last week. It should be easy for you guys to not get caught redhanded. I don’t expect many guards in your way. Two of you will set off without delay.  

 *** 

Blade threw microwave-sized machine at the backseat of the red, old-fashioned car and closed the door. He sat at the drivers place. Y/n noticed how he checked in a discreet way if her seatbelt is fixed. She didn’t want to disturb him while he was driving so she concentrated on the highway in front of her. Not even ten minutes have passed when he initiated a conversation to her surprise. 

 - Aren’t you shocked that I know how to drive? People usually ask me about it. Not very unexpected concern if you take my narcolepsy, suicidal tendencies and constant mara attacks into consideration. - his eyes didn’t leave the road the whole time but she noticed a slight crooked grin on his face.  

 - Not very much, Silver Wolf told me you used to be a blacksmith on Xianzhou Zhuming, Furnace Master even. I worked there, infusing their weapons with charms, so I know just how much effort and talent it takes to achieve something like this in such place, full of geniuses. I am aware you created many complicated machines during your previous lifetime, so naturally I thought you would be into all things related to such things. - she tried so hard to not say anything stupid but butterflies she felt in her stomach betrayed her time and time again.  

 - So you two gossip about me in your free time? I could convince Kafka to give you both some more responsibilities around the house. Separately. - he threatened but badly hidden smile on his face showed he wasn’t really upset. - How are things on Xianzhou? I bet those self-centered, arrogant idiots haven’t changed a bit since I last saw them. Always so proud, on their Xianzhou ships, yet completely delusional in their pursuits. They condemned me but their sins are way heavier than mine. - Blade laughed in a bitter way. Since when was he so talkative? He never spoke much, but when she was around the most you could get out of him was maybe a short sentence despite the way he looked at her constantly. 

 - To be fair the only reason it still stands is general Jing Yuan. - y/n dared to criticize Xianzhou as she still felt betrayed by them after people she trusted almost handed her to IPC – He seems to be the only person there that uses their brain for something, so he is used by them day and night, he barely sleeps. 

 - It must be hard on him, I don’t remember much from my previous life including some habits of my former friends,  but from what I’ve heard his sleepiness is legendary. 

 - He is even called the slumbering general. - y/n admitted with a giggle. She hoped it wasn’t too enthusiastic. The thought of Blade somehow discovering her crush on Jing Yuan when she had a bit of a crush on him as well just didn’t sit with her right. Could you blame her? Almost every girl on Xianzhou Xianzhou was enchanted by talented general.  

 - Did they treat you well? - Blade looked at her this time, she knew she couldn’t lie under his penetrating gaze. He would figure her out in seconds.  

 - Yes, they did. I found many good colleagues in the forgery, but I never really became friends with anybody. I mostly kept to myself. The closest to a friend I had was Master Zhang.  

 - I don’t recall such name. - Blade slightly frowned.  

 - He was the one that warned me about IPC trying to get me, without him they would catch me without problem.- she mentioned Zhang with gratitude in her heart.  - Everybody else had no issue with turning me in, at least from what I’ve heard. I guess current Furnace Master didn’t plan to stay silent when he saw what my enchanted weapon could do if he could get on the good side of IPC at the tiny cost of one of his employees.  

Blade chuckled darkly.  

 - They turned their back on me as well. - his gaze went numb, he seemed to recall past grudges. Through gritted teeth he murmured – Out of five....three must pay the price. 

His grip on the driving wheel tightened. Y/n wondered if he was about to get mara struck and how should she behave if that happens, when a bullet broke the car glass in front of them and flew right by her left ear. 

[eolewyn1010]

Amateur sewing - Red Riding Hood

So, uh... I've sewn a thing.

I'm reusing an old curtain here, it's polyester. It looks nice in theory, but I'm not even going to try and pretend it's anything else than 100% plastic. 140 cm x 140 cm square for the cloak, approximately an eternity of hemming.

Behold! Two different sets of lines that don't actually say anything because I can't do math and had to do the pleating, like, a dozen times.

First half of a box pleat in the making, 7 cm wide. I wanted a pretty drape for the back, and we're getting there.

Box pleat in the middle, additional knife pleat on either side. When I realized that the cloak was still too wide to fit into the shoulder capelet the way I wanted it, I cartridge-pleated the outer several centimeters up to the knife pleats.

Speaking of, shoulder capelet! I started out with two 40 cm x 40 cm squares outer fabric and the same size of lining. The lining is the rest of a duvet cover I began slaughtering for lining a while ago, cotton, because I may be cheap but I'm not suicidal. Don't want that much polyester directly on my skin. I sewed the squares together and hemmed them all around except for the corners where I still had to figure out how much I needed for my neck, and that got me to the yoke shape you can see above.

Could I have gotten away with a more practical closure than buttons? Yeah, definitely. Especially since this "fabric" frays like a bitch. I can actually do a darling buttonhole stitch, but you wouldn't be able to tell from this because I was working against the fabric. Then again, I had these buttons lying for around for far too long; they were presents from a friend and I never got a use for them. A fantasy-ish Red Riding Hood cape with zero historical basis seemed like the way to go, and I love them.

The finished capelet was kinda uselessly bunching around the neck, but I didn't much bother with that because there's still a hood waiting to go there. The way it fell over the arms when I didn't spread them was a bit more annoying, so I took in a tiny lil dart on each side, back and front.

I wanted a huge-ass hood for this. In the end, it would have probably been wiser to use the bigger squares for the shoulder capelet, but I have no regrets. Same story as with the capelet, just a lot less complicated; off with the corner and in with the lining.

That's how the whole mess looks on the inside of the capelet, the back of the hood cartridge-pleated down until it fit the neck opening. It's not pretty, but I really fastened every tuck twice and thrice. Then the cloak... oh boy, that nearly broke me. But I sewed it in around the back half of the neck opening so that it came out in the centers of my shoulders, and from there in a 90 degree-angle down the back. It ran out in that L shape you can see up there, not so much because I intended it but because I didn't have the best control over the cartridge-pleated outer part of the cloak.

And after I sent around the poll... I just went and did the opposite of its result ^^' I did end up putting the fancy golden trim around the capelet instead of the hood bc 1st, people I asked live said it'd look better there, and 2nd @kittycatalex made a pretty good point for sensory issues. And it looks so nice. Look at this big hood. I can play such a shady figure in this. The whole cloak is a bit top-heavy because the hood is bigger than the capelet, and the cloak doesn't have any lining, but that only means that the back can dramatically go whoooosh when I move. And when I don't move - behold that drape! So worth the bother!

[gorgeousgreymatter-x]

CW: contains non-graphic smut, allusions to Steve’s sensory issues/PTSD. Also, this headcanon is based off personal experience, so I don’t wanna hear “UMM ACCCTUALLY THAT’S NOT WHAT X IS LIKE BECAUSE I —” blah blah I don’t fucking care lol

It hadn’t taken long for Eddie to realize it, how sensitive Steve is. See how easy it is for him to get overwhelmed — a mix of head trauma and a hefty dose of PTSD, and it’s not like Eddie can be surprised. How sometimes the lights get too bright or sounds get too loud. Sometimes even Eddie touching him gets to be too much, and Steve ends up flinching away from the tidal wave of sensation and stimuli threatening to drown him.

But not always. Sometimes, Eddie’s hands on him, it feels like that’s exactly what Steve needs. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t terrify Eddie a little when Steve comes to him when he’s like that, when Steve feels like spun glass, so fragile under his palms that the slightest bit of pressure might break him. Shatter him to pieces.

Sometimes it feels like that’s exactly what Steve wants.

The first time they have sex, after, when Eddie’s got Steve pulled in close against his chest, both of them still catching their breath, Steve…he shakes. Trembles in Eddie’s arms for what feels like an eternity, even though it’s probably only a minute or two. And up until then, Eddie’d been operating under the assumption that, you know, things had gone pretty well.

So naturally Eddie had panicked a little and assumed the worst – that he had fucked up, done something wrong, hurt Steve, somehow managed to blow up whatever this was between them before it ever really got the chance to start. But Steve had only sniffled and shaken his head at Eddie’s slightly frantic, more than frazzled, "Stevie. Baby…you okay?"

"I'm – it's okay. It's nothing bad. You just – s'a lot, Eds," Steve had whispered finally, hiding his soft smile like a secret pressed into Eddie's scarred chest. "You make me feel…a lot."

Eddie would have liked to say he'd understood at the time, but he hadn't. Not yet. Not quite. "A good a lot?" he'd asked, worrying nervously at his lip with his teeth.

"Definitely good."

Eddie worries less about it after that, the more he learns to read Steve, the more intimately familiar he becomes with his reactions. The different noises Steve makes when Eddie touches him a certain way. Touches him there, kisses him here. Counts the freckles on Steve's lower back with his tongue. How dark Steve's eyes look as he gazes up at Eddie when he's all needy and desperate and fucked out enough that he's as liquid as the melted ice cream Eddie’d sucked off Steve's upper lip on the hottest night of the summer just weeks ago. 

"Thought maybe it would get better, you know…easier," Eddie murmurs one night, running soothing fingertips up and down the ladder of Steve’s spine while Steve clings to him. Because maybe some part of him had kind of figured Steve would just get used to it. Like exposure therapy or some shit, but it happens like this still most times. Steve shivering like some frightened little animal, his fingernails hooked like anchors into Eddie's wrist like he and it are the only port in the storm.

Only he can see Steve's flushed cheeks, his drunken, dreamy-eyed expression. Knows without a doubt he's the farthest from frightened he can be. "I don't know…thought so too. But I think…I think it's because each time —" Steve starts before trailing off, sheepish. " — still feels like the first time."

Eddie thinks, pressing a wolfish (if not a little bit preening) grin into the back of Steve's neck, maybe he gets it now.

He finds doesn't really need to ask after that.

[wearequeer-andwearehere]

Yk I never really wanted to get married

I'm poly so the whole thing seems like a hassle of making my partners possibly feel like one one I love the most because I am married to them, I'm also aro/ace so who knows how marriage would work for me and I'm also autistic so just the concept of having a wedding seems like a nightmare- the lights, the people, the sound, the uncomfortable clothes, the social pressure- I cannot do it. The pure thought of having a wedding makes me want to scream

But recently I started dating this boy... and holy shit.

He is the one. He is the one I want.

All of my partners aside from him I am dating more casually, I love them but I wouldn't consider any of it very serious relationships.

Don't get me wrong I love all of my other partners just as much, but him oh my god.

I want to spend my life with him. I want to be with him forever. I want to live with him to make a life with him.

The thought of me proposing to him makes me all blushy and the thought of him calling me his husband makes me scream with joy and I will actually cry of happiness if I take a second to imagine what our first dance would look like and oh my god I am such a fucking simp for him damn.

I don't know if he feels this way. I mean, marriage is out of the question since we live far apart and because of other circumstances and we have only been officially dating for a few months (we have known eachother and have been flirting for far longer then that) but oh my god him.

He tells me how much he loves me and we get along wonderfully, he professes his love everyday and in the sweetest of ways each time, fuck, he even referred to me as his husband once.

I know this is the man I want, I know I want to show him off to my family, I know I want to spend my eternity with him but fuck man the distance in the relationship is killing me.

I don't know. Maybe one day I will get over my irrational fear and disgust of weddings, maybe we will even last long enough so we can get engaged.

I don't know why I am sending this. Maybe for other possibly younger queer people here? Maybe finding the right one and shit can be hard but oh lord will you be happy when you find them. I have never felt so happy in my entire life, just thinking about him makes me almost weep of joy.

OMGGG thats literally the sweetest thing EVER im so so so happy for you!!

Maybe there’s some way u can tailor a wedding to ur likes, clothes u like a comfy quiet area so ur sensory issues aren’t bad only a few ppl ur close to, or just a quiet wedding w the two of u!!

Argh that’s literally so sweeeet I want that type of love!!! I’m so so happy for u im so happy u found someone who makes u happy!!! Queer love & joy is beautiful <3

[bad4amficideas]

Do you write yandere hcs for the Batboys? If so, can I request for some headcanons of how each of them would deal with a reader entering a deep state of meditation after she gets kidnapped and she has a sort of like a necklace that creates a protective forcefield around her but that only activates when she meditates. I hope this isn't confusing and thank you :) Btw, I loved reading your work, it was awesome :) And do you know any other blogs who write stuff for yandere DC? I'm hooked on them now lol

Below the actual answer dear anon!!!

Just to say I have read this question on other blogs and I have asked myself at times, I love the specificity (like, I'm the one who asks for an isekai!shy!reader x yandere with/out soulmate ofc I like it). Also as side note, the first time I read it, I mentally relived the episode in which Batman took the ring from Green Lantern, that damn smirk included. You said Batboys, but I had to mention it because that scene inspired all of the HC and that's where things flowed. Anyway, my thoughts:

Note: English is not my language, so I hope you will be understanding of any flaws you find.

Definitely all the boys would try to analyze the strength and the diameter of the shield and assess whether or not it changes according to the type of attack and/or your concentration. And the origins of the necklace's power? Does it need recharging like lantern rings? Is it magic? If it's, can a magi remove it?

But I also think it really wouldn't work as well as they would think and I think all this would be first discovered by Jason or Tim (intentionality or analysis respectively); by analysis I mean here taking out the letter to letter and word to word of the magical things and the lawyer perspective and asking, and with intentionality I mean I doubt that Jason actually shot you to kill.

My reasoning/what I mean is, what does it define protection/protective? The limits are yours or does the shield have some kind of conscience and choice in the matter? yours subjective or yours objective? If the yandere in question just wants a hug or throw a blanket over you, counts as an attack or that not happens until "impure/dark thoughts enter" while touching you. If you start to starve yourself and said yandere wants to force you to eat, will the shield let him pass? Reasoning, both your self-preservation instinct and shield should both approve of something. You know, in a state of meditation you give up eating, washing, etc at some time you would break or faint (maybe 2 months without eathing, even maybe eternally without sleep thanks to the meditation, but, but BUT without WATER??? and what if you need to take some medications??).

In "pure intentions" (more like iron mind for the one who was once jokerized) Tim, here are some winning ballots so he can ignore the shield and win more time to think something else, then totally Jason, he's a keeper, well, I lied Jason is the more likely to get break the necklace but not damaging you in any form, either playing gunman or god knows how.

And of course, then there is the issue of concentration. All batboys, some more than others have been tortured or trained to, at some point in their lives. So, even if it isn't physically, I have no doubt that Dick, for example, would be able to break your meditation (sweetalking with the help of his time working with victims in the police) and Damian, well, if the League did not include some psychological torture I would feel disappointed, you know, light play to epilepsy, drop, drop, drop, total sensory isolation, those things that can drive you crazy.

So to the question, how would they handle it? It depends on their patience and how long can they see you suffer. But no good and anyway will not matter because that necklace is a double edged sword, they will pick that quickly and they will win at the end. Although you can be sure that, as soon as they manage to remove it, you will not see it again.

[vindelllas]

the beauty of uttara ashadha 🌞🐘:

🐘 naomi campbell: uttara ashadha lagna

*MAJOR TW// i discuss a lot of potentially triggering topics, i.e. abuse and racism. some of the uttara ashadha natives i exhibit and talk about are known for their terrible behavior and scandals. i do not condone their offensive and ignorant behavior. they are simply being shown to solidify my opinions on the nature of this nakshatra*

as you read this post, please listen to this uttara ashadha playlist i made for the full experience: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/207xxveKWd1TlN12Sr5GAW?si=G5F-Hd3_SHui2PYViP8hkQ

🌞 in the krittika nakshatra, we saw the fiery combination of kuja’s rashi and surya’s vimshottari rulership. krittika represents the cosmic fire of purification, as kuja is the planet of leadership, chandra is the planet denoting our mental state, and surya is the embodiment of the true yang path. in the uttara phalguni nakshatra, we saw the giving and serving nature of surya shine through the solar embodiment of aryaman and the leo rashi. buddha bestowed this nakshstra with the ability to sense areas of need within others and find the best ways to solve others’ issues and realign them with their dharma path. in uttara ashadha, we see these natives embody the cosmic fire we once witnessed in krittika and eventually learn to master the importance of finding yourself in your soul. as compared to looking to the accomplishments you have helped others succeed in for personal reaffirmation (a problem uttara phalguni natives struggle with). uttara ashadha’s ruling deities will serve as their cosmic guides through these deeply purifying solar states.

🌌 the deities of uttara ashadha are the ten vishvadevas, the ten universal gods. in sanskrit, vishvadevas translates to “all-knowing or omniscient”. these ten gods represent the evolution of uttara ashadha natives’ lives: vasu (meaning brilliance or wealth-giver), satya (being truthful in one's thought, speech, and action), kratu (strength and willpower), daksha (rituals and people), kala (time and death), kama (cosmic desire and creative impulse), dhriti (steadiness and retention), kuru (ancestors), pururavas (abundance, surya, brightness), and madravas (zenith of joy). let’s take a closer look at a few of these deities to examine the path of uttara ashadhas.

✨ satya, loosely translating to "truth/essence", is equated with and considered necessary to the concept of rta. rta means order, rule, and truth. rta is the principle of natural order which regulates and binds the collective universe and all of it’s inhabitants. in the hymns of the vedas, rta is said to be what is ultimately responsible for the proper functioning of the natural, moral, and sacrificial union of life. due to this, rta is said to uphold dharma. satya gives birth to the possibility of rta, due to satya’s regulatory and binding nature. truth (satya) is considered to be essential and without it the universe and reality falls apart and, therefore, can longer function. this is why satya is also considered to be our essence, the core of our being. truth is considered to be a form of alignment with the divine. the whole foundation of christianity, and most prominent religions, stress abiding in your cosmic truth. in the book of james 1:18, it reads “of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures.”. when we welcome the essence of satya, we flourish in internal beauty and the truth blooms and beams on our physical surface.

👠 this internal radiance of satya is the reason the solar nakshstras, primarily uttara ashadha, are one of the top placements for prominent models like victoria’s secret angels. such as, stella maxwell (krittika surya and uttara ashadha chandra), behati prinsloo (krittika surya and uttara phalguni chandra), chanel iman (krittika chandra), doutzen kroes (uttara ashadha surya), marth hunt (uttara ashadha chandra), josephine skriver (uttara ashadha chandra), karolina kurkova (uttara ashadha chandra), jac jagaciak (uttara ashadha surya), erin heatherton (uttara ashadha chandra), etc.. solar beauty radiates like the sun illuminating drops of midnight dew on crisp greenery or radiating and reflecting the vast sky on to the indigo crests of waves. solar beauty is a beauty that often goes unnoticed for a long time, only to be rediscovered for it’s rich depths. it is like when one is too focused on looking downward at the earth’s greenery and ocean, only to forget the beautiful light that illuminates these beautiful forms of nature. solar beauty radiates and encompasses the native as a whole. it gleams and shines like the bright surya. this is why we see uttara ashadha natives brimming with warm and olive undertones, freckles or beauty marks, and shiny hair. they embody the cosmic youth and the truth that nourishes “the firstfruits of creatures”. this is why solar women are so aesthetically pleasing to the eye, as they cause sensory overload, modeling the act of one’s eyes hurting from looking at the sun for too long.

👁 according to the rigveda, the antithesis of rta and surya are anrita and asatya, meaning falsehood. falsehood is considered to be a form of misconduct. satya includes factuality, reality, truth and reverence. satya is our past, current and future. it is considered to be the functioning of our world. the falsehood of anrita and asatya are reflected in surya’s association with the right eye. in the christian religion, the right eye signifies the evil from which is falsity and the left eye is the falsity through which is evil. in zechariah 11:17, it states “woe to the worthless shepherd that deserteth the flock! the sword shall be upon his arm, and upon his right eye; his arm withering shall wither, and his right eye darkening shall be darkened”. in this scripture, the arm is said to denote the power of truth applied to confirm evil (satya). the right eye symbolizes the memory and knowledge of good applied to confirm falsity. the shepherd represents one who teaches truths, leading others along the path of dharma. in matthew 5:29-30, jesus spoke, “if thy right eye hath caused thee to stumble, pluck it out, and cast it from thee. and if thy right hand hath caused thee to stumble, cut it off, and cast it from thee; it is better for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not thy whole body be cast into gehenna”. surya’s rulership of the right eye is why uttara ashadha natives frequently struggle with eye issues. because of this, uttara ashadha natives usually wear glasses or contacts and become associated with/profit off of their glasses. for example, george clooney (uttara ashadha chandra) has several articles written about his persol glasses. cary grant’s (uttara ashadha surya and chandra) estate collaborated with the brand “olivers people” to create a line of successful eyewear. the sunglasses grant wore in the 1959 hollywood classic north by northwest is characterized as a sunglasses design that is the epitome of classic style. dave bautista (uttara ashadha surya and chandra) once said he often wears sunglasses because it helps him to cope with his social anxiety disorder. bautista once said, “i would rather wear sunglasses than stand on the red carpet.”. actors like zooey deschanel (uttara ashadha surya, chandra and lagna) and jane levy (uttara ashadha chandra) are known for playing roles that involve their characters wearing glasses. many articles have been written about zooey deschanel’s glasses on the television show “new girl” and jane levy’s glasses on the sitcom “suburgatory”. glasses act as a sharpening tool that allows to better see our environment, our truth. glasses reflect our surroundings onto the eyes of those who look through the pair of sunglasses on another person. they serve as objects cycling the truth of the wearer and beholder, in a way, it rejects the falsity of illusion and completely embraces realignment with truth, while serving as a protective medium between the native and others. believing that we have the lenses of reality within each of us. what you see is what you get or what you see is what you are, as far as eternity is concerned, abiding in satya. it is believed that our beliefs are the lenses through which one sees the world. what one believes determines your focus (kratu) and in turn your actions. one sees things as they believe they are, not as things really are, but rather as one is. if one’s beliefs are based on truth, your figurative glasses will allow you to see eternity from the rta/satya perspective. however, if your belief lenses are made from anrita and asatya, you will see illusions and falsehood reflective of the state of your soul.

☀️ there is a particular effect called photo-bleaching. photo-bleaching happens to the cells in your retina in the back of your eye. these cells are called rods and cones, and these cells are full of light sensitive pigments. light comes in the form of particles, called photons, in your eye; these stimulate the cells by changing this light sensitive pigment, which is called retinal, into a different form and they stimulate the cells to send electrical impulses to your brain. if you look at the sun for a long period of time, this sends the cells into overdrive and it takes them time to calm down. after you finish looking at the sun and you look at a normal level of light, like a plant, you get black spots where you've been looking at light where the cells have been over stimulated. this is the essence of solar beauty. it leaves a lasting impact on the eyes of others and it is hard to forget their presence. their warmth lingers, stays, and satiates others like the deity kama.

🐘 kate moss: uttara ashadha surya

🐾 uttara ashadha’s yoni is the male mongoose. the male mongoose are sometimes solitary, but most live in colonies. the average colony is made up of roughly twenty mongooses. those who live in these colonies will take turns being sentinels. sentinels stand on their hind legs on higher ground, looking all around them for danger. if they spot a potential threat, they will let out a loud scream that acts as an alarm call that lets the rest of the colony members know they should retreat to safety. when operating in their light state, uttara ashadhas act as the male mongoose by being the sentinel of their surroundings. they act as a guide to those around them and try to ensure the safety of others. they stand tall like the symbolic mongoose, mirroring the phallic force, and usher those into the light of achievement. this is why we see so many uttara ashadha natives appear in musical groups, as they are the glue that binds their surroundings together. but this intense binding begins to darken, it is often people will become obsessed with their great achievements and warmth and try to bring the native down with jealousy and harm. zayn malik (uttara ashadha) was known to be a part of a popular musical group, “one direction” and reportedly left the group in 2015, due to him feeling left out by the group and not liking the music they created. jennie (uttara ashadha surya) from “blackpink” was the main rapper of the group and was the first one to debut a solo single. nicki minaj (uttara ashadha lagna) was once apart of the popular rap group “young money”, but decided to further pursue her career as a solo artist. baby spice (uttara ashadha surya) was in the famous 90s girl group “spice girls”. a common theme amongst these natives is maintaining peace and upholding an image. uttara ashadhas are determined to succeed at any cost and many individuals subconsciously sense this and abuse their power. they view uttara ashadha as a never-ending vessel of determination and willpower and abuse this by treating these natives poorly, as they know the native will do anything to maintain peace for prosperity.

🐢 this foundation of determination and willpower is correlated to the auspicious elephant. the elephant itself is quite common in most religious traditions and mythologies. elephants are widely considered to be a positive omen and are sometimes revered as deities, symbolizing strength and wisdom. there is an ancient hindu belief of “world elephants”. the amarakosha states the names of eight male elephants who bare the world (in addition to eight unnamed female elephants). the names of the male elephants are airavata, pundarika, vamana, kumunda, anjana, pushpa-danta, sarva-bhauma, and supratika. there are four elephants that are believed to support the earth from the four different directions. in the ramayana, they are listed as the viroopaaksha (supporting the east), mahaapadma (supporting the south), saumanasa (supporting the west), and bhadra (supporting the north). while the knowledge on this subject is very limited, chukwa, the tortoise, is said to support the elephant mahaapadma which in turn supports the world. chukwa’s tortoise translation is not set in stone and can also be interpreted as a water snake (rahu), denoting the foundation of earthly desires is rahu. chukwa (rahu, earthly foundation/desires) cannot exist without mahaapadma (ketu, spiritual liberation), as a head may not exist without a body. it was once said: “on the wondrous dais rose a throne, and he its pedestal whose lotus hood with ominous beauty crowns his horrible sleek folds, great mahapudma; high displayed he bears the throne of death. there sat supreme with those compassionate and lethal eyes, who many names, who many natures holds; yama, the strong pure hades sad and subtle, dharma, who keeps the laws of old untouched.”.

🐘 wisdom is said to be represented by the elephant in the form of lord ganesha, one of the most popular gods in hindu mythology. lord ganesha is said to have the head of an elephant which was put on after the human head was either cut off or burned. lord ganesha is associated with new beginnings, success, and the removing of obstacles (as the act of removing one’s head is symbolic of removing rahu, essentially one’s desires). lord ganesha is said to be the deity of ketu, due to ketu being the moksha karaka and our source of liberation. ketu is said to bestow immense knowledge, spirituality, and luxury, when properly placed. if a native has an inauspiciously placed ketu in their natal chart, it is said praying to lord ganesha may aid the native. the smoky and prosperous nature of ganesha is exhibited in many rituals involving the symbolism of the elephant, in particular, the cameroonian practice of the bamiléké tribesmen. the bamiléké are often known for their intricately beaded masquerades, including the impressive elephant mask.

🎭 masquerades are considered to be a very integral part of the bamiléké culture. these masquerades take place during special events such as funerals, palace festivals, and other royal ceremonies. the masks are performed by men and aim to support and enforce royal authority (assuming the natural masculine leadership and dictation of surya). the power of the bamiléké king, the fon, is primarily represented by the elephant. the fon may transform into either an elephant or leopard whenever he chooses. their elephant mask, called a “mbap mtengis” a mask, has protruding circular ears, a human like face, decorative panels on the front and back that hang down to the knees and are covered in deeply intricate, geometric beadwork including much triangular imagery (symbolic of the solar force that is the triangular-like formation of an elephant’s large ears and protruding trunk, mirroring the phallic pyramid). occasionally, the fon may allow members of the community to perform with an elephant mask along with a leopard skin, conveying wealth, status and power by shielding one’s face. this act of covering one’s face is symbolic of sacrificing one’s identity (rahu) for the purpose of attaining moksha karaka (ketu). by the bamiléké fons covering their face with an elephant mask, they bring an association and representation of power, strength and prosperity (lord ganesha).

🌟 this sacrifice of self association and identity and the smoky nature of the bamiléké tribe represents the nature of uttara ashadha. it is often wondered why uttara ashadhas have such a dark and vampiric aesthetic, as this is the nature of sacrificing one’s identity. the spiritually devoting nature of these natives causes a detachment from their identity to embrace their higher power. beyoncé (an uttara ashadha ketu native) was once famous for her shiny, flashy, and glamorous y2k aesthetic. in the recent years, we have seen beyoncé move towards a less flashy, but equally captivating and prosperous, lifestyle. in a way, she sacrificed her y2k/flashy identity and received more prosperity and healing in return. in her latest visual album “black is king”, we saw her collaborate with numerous placements of uttara ashadha, such as wizkid (uttara ashadha shani atmakaraka) and jessie reyez (uttara ashadha rahu), to illustrate the importance of coming back to your familial routes and finding identity within your ancestors (it is important to note, out of my survey of fifty contributors and artists on the album, uttara ashadha was by far the most prominent atmakaraka placement). in this visual album, we see numerous african masks that call to mind the smoky, spiritual nature of ketu and the self-sacrificing and giving qualities of surya in his highest state (uttara ashadha).

🐘 christie brinkley: uttara ashadha chandra

🥘 the mahavidya associated with surya is matangi. she is the tantric goddess known for her wisdom, knowledge, and bestowing power. according to the shaktisamgama-tantra, the birth of ucchishta-matangini is as follows: the god vishnu and his wife lakshmi visited shiva and his second wife parvati and gave them a banquet of fine foods. while eating the banquet, the deities dropped some food on the ground, from which created a beautiful maiden who asked for their leftovers. vishnu, lakshmi, shiva, and parvati granted the maiden their left over food as prasad (meaning food made sacred by having been first consumed by a deity). this act can be interpreted as the ucchishta of the deity, it is important to note that due to the negative connotation the word ucchishta, it is never explicitly used in connection to prasad. shiva then stated that those who repeat mantangi’s mantra and worship her will have their material desires satisfied and gain control over foes, declaring her the giver of boons. from that day on, the maiden was referred to as ucchishta-matangini. because of matangi’s humble origin, she is often described as an outcast and impure. she is often associated with pollution, due to her relation to outcast communities. the humble mantangi is regarded as a tantric form of the goddess saraswati, the goddess of knowledge and the arts of mainstream hinduism. matangi and saraswati share many traits in that regard. both goddesses embody music and are depicted playing the veena. both are said to be the nada (sound or energy) that flows through the nadi channels in the body through which prana flows. these goddesses are related to rain clouds, thunder, and rivers. by both governing learning and speech, saraswati embodies the orthodox knowledge of the brahmins, whereas matangi, the humble, wild, and ecstatic outcast, embodies the knowledge within that transcends the boundaries of mainstream society (hence, her associations with social pariahs).

🏆 whereas, uttara ashadha (उत्तराषाढ़ा) comes from the sanskrit words उत्तर (latter) and अषाढ (invincible). the meanings of uttara ashadha are said to be “the latter invincible one”, “latter victory”, or “the latter undefeated”. the term “latter” is derived from the latin word lætra, meaning slow or deliberate, this juxtaposition with invincibility, denotes resilience, power, and prosperity. the journey of uttara ashadhas are said to bevslow and lengthy (lætra), but in then end, they reach true success by embodying the humility and skillfulness of matangi. this correlates to uttara ashadha being the top placements for athletes, as the practice of exercising and bodily discipline requires a deep understanding of prana, the source of life (matangi). athletes must be able to control their breathing and abide in a clean environment to maintain proper focus and health. this is why prana is said to permeate reality on all levels, aligning our inner selves with the cosmic truth (surya/rta). indian philosophy describes prana as flowing in the nadis throughout the body. the number of nadis varies according to different texts and philosophies, but the three principal nadis run from the base of the spine to the head (areas traditionally associated with surya and the vimshottari-ruled surya nakshatras). they are the ida on the left, the sushumna in the center, and the pingala on the right. the nadis are said to play a role in many yogic practices, like shatkarmas, mudras, and pranayama. these practices are intended to open and unblock the nadis to allow life force to be abundant within all of us. the ultimate aim of some yogic practices are to direct prana into the sushumna nadi, enabling the kundalini to rise, and thus bring about moksha karaka, our liberation. in both the subtle and the causal body, the nadis are channels for our cosmic, vital, seminal, mental, and intellectual energies (our prana). this is why they are considered to be important for sensations, consciousness and the spiritual aura.

🥇 ida is traditionally associated with lunar energy. the word ida means "comfort" in sanskrit. ida possesses a moonlike nature and a distinct feminine energy with a cooling/yin effect. whereas, pingala is associated with solar energy. the word pingala means "orange" or "tawny" in sanskrit. pingala possesses a sunlike nature and masculine energy. pingala is warm/yang and courses throughout the right side of the body, whereas ida courses through the left side of the body. these nadis are often representative of the two hemispheres of the brain. pingala is the extroverted, solar nadi, and corresponds to left hemisphere of the brain. ida is the introverted, lunar nadi, and refers to the right hemisphere of the brain. this is due to the left hemisphere controlling the muscles on the right side of the body and the right hemisphere controlling those on the left, symbolic of the dualism of nature and our bodies. the ida nadi regulates all the mental, lunar processes while the pingala nadi regulates all the vital, solar processes. examples of uttara ashadha athlete natives who learned to balance the inner matangi and nadis within is the famous professional boxer muhammad ali (uttara ashadha surya) who was nicknamed “the greatest”. the olympic athlete marion jones (uttara ashadha chandra) who is a world champion track and field athlete and previous member of the WNBA. we also see a great abundance of athletes specifically having an uttara ashadha surya, such as matthias ginter, malek jaziri, claudio marchisio, tyler breeze, davie selke, pierre webó, and ehsan haddadi. as surya feels at home and comfortable in expressing it’s dualistic nature in this nakshatra. athletes and uttara ashadha natives are said to operate in the pingala mental state, but understand the importance of matangi and the balance of prana. as prana is considered to unite all elements and directions (recall the directional nature of the world elephants) within the body by aligning the ether element within, as how brihaspati and shani are both of the ether/air element and are crucial in reaching balance in our souls.

🐘 sasha pivovarova: uttara ashadha surya and chandra

🔥 uttara ashadha lies in the padas of sagittarius and capricorn. like all the surya-ruled nakshatras, vimshottari-wise, it bridges the nature of the fire element and the earth element. this denotes the karmic association of peak masculinity (fire) and the grounding femininity (earth). the elemental nature of earth represents the body. it is the densest element and creates the most heaviest psychological influence. it represents the practicalness and sensuality of nature, as a mongoose simply intuitively knows when to alert his group of danger or a goat knows which step to climb on a mountain. fire is the focus that lies within us and it corresponds to the digestion of life. fire is said to digest sensory impressions (water) and turn them into purposeful thoughts and ideas. as surya is said to calm the waters of the mind (chandra).

🌬 whereas, the air element correlates to intelligence and the movement within, essentially our prana. this deep level of intellect is why the elemental air/shani/brihaspati signs are seen in politics, as they know how to relate to others and appeal to society. these natives are highly social, conscientious, and understand the principles they abide by, hence their prevalence in politics. the element of ether is not to be confused with the principality of air. like air, ether is associated with conscientious but it is also the state of pure consciousness itself. ether transcends the physical elements (this is why rahu is said to be capable of air, as when rahu in his dark, illusionary state, he cannot transcend). ether is the witnessing of consciousness. it is the ability to perceive the process of intellect (air) and remain unidentified with it. it is our freedom and the closest to our state of satya. it serves as the freedom from the mind and body. it is detachment from our physical state of determination (fire), intellect (air), thoughts (water), and the sensuality of earth to go beyond our physical karma. as the ether knows detachment is the embodiment of true spiritual knowledge. this is why shani is said to both rule the ether element and be the higher state of rahu, as shani understands the power of going without for the purpose of the greater good.

🌳 both sagittarius and capricorn embody the final installment of the earth and fire rashis. sagittarius is the natural ninth house of higher education, wisdom, and spirituality. capricorn is the natural tenth house of power, ambition, and work. these houses are bridged under the leadership and guiding qualities of surya to create a distinct amount of material and mental wealth. this is why we see uttara ashadha natives feel called to work in areas such as politics, law, and economics, due to their spiritual and societal knowledge. the fall of uttara ashadha lies within the elemental composition of this nakshatra. too much fire leads to exaggerated levels of aggression. too much air causes sterility, dryness, and an ungrounded sense of life. too much earth brings stagnation and clinging. for example, george washington (uttara ashadha chandra) was known for his sex scandals, killings, and perpetuation of slavery. pope saint john xxiii (uttara ashadha chandra) was known for bending the rules in order to be ordained as the pope. jeb bush (uttara ashadha chandra) was known to be associated with high class drug dealers and lawsuits. abraham lincoln (uttara ashadha chandra) was known for his disagreement of slavery, despite being quite racist himself. these men operated in the stagnation, sterility, and energetic dullness that lied within their souls. they embraced the corrosive flames of fire and figuratively burned down what they did not respect. corazon aquino (uttara ashadha chandra) was regarded with high respect for combining traditional femininity with politics and her advocation for human rights and restoration of political power to civilians. aquino* (please see my note below) is an example of uttara ashadhas using their fiery determination to bring equality and justice to people, no matter the cost. they relate to the earthly parallels of society and know in order to gain equality, sacrifices of the self must be made. thus, they are the embodiment of yang.

💥 no matter the morals and principles of uttara ashadhas, we see uttara ashadha men being idolized and followed by the collective. the media is entranced by their yang embodiment and their negative behaviors are frequently ignored for the purpose of remaining idolized. consider uttara ashadha natives like russell crowe, bruce willis, george clooney, and matt damon. they have arose to great fame due to films like “die hard” or “ocean’s eleven”, because men idolize their pingala, tough, solitary, and strong exteriors and often try to imitate their actions. men subconsciously acknowledge the cosmic interplay of the masculine shani (capricorn), brihaspati (sagittarius), and surya, as they idolize the solitary state of the uttara ashadha mongoose: the one who has no yoni consort.

🪴 it is important to understand that capricorn itself is not a masculine sign. it is indeed the most feminine sign of the zodiac, due to it embodying the earthly nature of clinging to the tree as leaves do or grounding to the earth as clay. the over-ruler of capricorn, the planet shani, is often considered to be gender-neutral as the ether element itself transcends gender. shani simply molds the earthly, feminine clays of capricorn into greatness and abundance. examine the abundance of uttara ashadha, shravana, and dhanishta (whom all lie in the capricorn rashi). all of these nakshatras are famed for their looks, auras, and wealth.

* the lovely @/sakkurareadnt on twitter has brought to my attention that while aquino was the first president of the philippines to be a woman, she was not the one to solely change the power civilians have. it was the people of the philippines themselves who organized the revolution. aquino did believe in human rights and did well during her presidency, but the restoration of power to the people was primarily due to the movement of the citizens of philippines. i sincerely apologize for any confusion this may have caused 💗

🐘 fka twigs: uttara ashadha surya

☀️ due to surya being the fiery path within, the element fire is said to connects us to the sense of sight. ayurveda states anything we can see is touched by fire, as we abide in the state of solar satya. the element fire is called “tejas” in sanskrit and it is the third of the pancha mahabhutus (the five great elements). it is the third element because it evolves from the states of ether and air, containing the essence of these elements within it. ether energizes fire with the ability to find space to exist within. air bestows fire with the capacity of prana to burn. it is due to the element air, that fire will never be able to still within us. fire is said to represent the capacity for heat and light. it is the generator of energy in the body, modeling the behavior of how surya is the generator of energy for the entire solar system. it is said that fire is the process of liberating energy from its source.

⭐️ the tanmatra of vision, rupa, is the origin of the purifying fires. rupa means to form or color. the forms and colors of life are a direct result from our perception. rupa serves as the tanmatra, our unmanifested form of perception, light, and vision. fire binds with the sense of vision, as fire provides light for perception. the eyes serve as the channel through which light is digested and perception takes place. think of it this way, you cannot see what is ahead of you, if you simply have no light to illuminate your path. with uttara ashadha women specifically, we tend to see this struggle with male attention. women are naturally quite yin, but the peak pingala energy of uttara ashadha alters the manifestation of these natives. people are confused by these natives’ balanced and equalizing energy and flock to their perceived light like moths to a flame. in many cases, people are also insecure about the uttara ashadha native’s inner elemental balance and will choose to leave them. this is because uttara ashadha illuminates everything within their environment, including the vampiric energies of others.

✨ in the show “euphoria”, cassie (played by an uttara ashadha chandra native sydney sweeney), we see this internal dichotomy around male attention. cassie is described as a sweet and popular person, but has difficulty with navigating relationships. she grew up with an emotionally unavailable and irresponsible father who grew to only care for money. men are entranced by her energy and solely view her as a means of sexual pleasure. boys treat her as this shiny jewel, until she rejects or accepts their sexual advances, then she is viewed as promiscuous. the problem here is men become obsessed with uttara ashadha women, as they are obsessed with uttara ashadha men in film. they seek these natives’ fire and become disappointed when they come to find these natives have emotions and needs like any other person.

🌥 the movie “gone girl” is about a former writer and his glamorous wife amy (played by uttara ashadha chandra rosamund pike). they try to present a portrait of a blissful marriage to the public. when amy goes missing on the couple's fifth wedding anniversary, the writer becomes the prime suspect in her disappearance. the police pressure and media frenzy causes the couple's image of a happy union to crumble, leading to tantalizing questions about who they really are. throughout their relationship, amy tried to be the perfect girl who was the best wife she could be, but she felt she was never good enough. she changed her entire personality to conform to the wants of her husband. in the movie, she states (WARNING: THIS DOES CONTAIN GRAPHIC LANGUAGE): “men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? she’s a cool girl. being the cool girl means i am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and ***l sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary **** bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because cool girls are above all hot. hot and understanding. cool girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. go ahead, sh*t on me, i don’t mind, i’m the cool girl. men actually think this girl exists. maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. for a long time cool girl offended me. i used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and i’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: you are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. i’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: the b*tch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! and the cool girls are even more pathetic: they’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. oh, and if you’re not a cool girl, i beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the cool girl. it may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so cool girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so cool girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. there are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants cool girl, who is basically the girl who likes every thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (how do you know you’re not cool girl? because he says things like: “i like strong women.” if he says that to you, he will at some point **** someone else. because “i like strong women” is code for “i hate strong women.”)”.

⛅️ men view uttara ashadhas as this immovable and illustrious force of light. they assume they behave as uttara ashadha men do in their violent, “fight club”-esc films. this deep desire often leads to many uttara ashadha natives feeling the need to embrace a lifestyle of hyper-masculinity to compensate for their natural and human emotions. people crave these natives to be the hot, light, dry, rough, and sharp nature of fire itself. the people in these natives’ lives expect for themselves to be the inherent air that is within the nature of fire. after all, it is the element air that provides fire with its mobile quality. although the truest state of uttara ashadha is the subtle fire, their effects are the most prominent. when you approach fire, what do you feel first? the heat of the flames. this is why we associate the element fire with the fires we can see. as fire represents light, heat, luster, energy, understanding, and the power of transformation.

🌤 examine uttara ashadha natives like issa rae in “insecure”, jane levy in “zoey’s extraordinary playlist”, zooey deschanel in “new girl”, or the aforementioned women above. these natives will be repeatedly shunned for their emotional nature and sensitivities because we expect surya to be the silent source of satiability. to see this source of sustenance have feelings and needs, shocks the moth who was once attracted to the flame. the moth realizes that not everything is about their deepest carnal desires.

🐘 nina simone: uttara ashadha chandra

💪🏽 these natives are no stranger to standing up for the injustices of their era. while surya natives do struggle with unwanted expectations and internal dichotomies, this does not discredit the common belief that these natives serve as the celestial father who provides the vital force behind creation and its sustenance. surya natives’ strong will and individuality, coupled with their boldness and ambition, creates a wonderful passion for advocating for what they believe in. think of uttara ashadha native nina simone who was both musically talented and an advocate for civil rights. she used her talents and fame to shed light on a greater cause. simone once stated, “i had spent many years pursuing excellence, because that is what classical music is all about... now it was dedicated to freedom, and that was far more important.”. nicki minaj, another uttara ashadha native, is often regarded as the queen of rap and is known for advocacy for women’s rights and power. in an interview minaj said, “when you’re a girl you have to be everything… you have to be sexy, and you have to be this and you have to be that, and you have to be nice. it’s like, i can’t be all those things at once. i’m a human being.”. joan jett (an uttara ashadha native) stated: “i figured out it was a social thing, what women were allowed to do. at a very young age, i decided i was not going to follow women's rules.”.

🍯 this behavior correlates to one of the ten vishvadevas: kratu. kratu is the deity representative of strength. rishi kratu appeared in two different ages. kratu is one of the seven great sages (the saptarishis). these sages are said to have originated from the consciousness of brahma. kratu is sometimes even believed to have been born from his father's left eye. kratu was married to sannathi and it is believed the couple had sixty thousand children, which are referred to as balakhilyas. the balakhilyas were said to be the size of a thumb and lived alongside the bank of rivers. the balakhilyas were once insulted by deity indra, the king of celestial deities. by the power generated by their penance, they were able to please shiva. in turn, shiva gave him a boon that they would be able to produce a bird who could pull out the cosmic nectar from indra.

🪓 the story goes that prajapati daksha was the head of sacrifice. prajapati daksha held a grudge against rudra or (depending on the story) for his daughter sati marrying shiva against his wishes. prajapati daksha did not send even an invitation to shiva for the sacrifice. sati went to the sacrifice alone and was terribly insulted for marrying shiva by her family. sati then k*lled herself by by jumping into the sacrificial fire. upon hearing the news of sati, lord shiva became madden with rage. shiva pulled out a lock of hair from his head and threw it down, invoking the spirit of veerabhadra (or bhairava) shiva ordered veerabhadra to go with his followers and destroy everybody who attended the sacrifice, including prajapati daksha himself.

⚔️ veerabhadra and shiva’s followers then went and beheaded daksha. they began to punish each and every god who attended the holy sacrifice. they knocked out the teeth of pushan, removed the eyes of bhaga, and severed the two testicles of kratu. soon after, the gods went to shiva and begged for his mercy. shiva said that they should all serve under him as animals for a period of time; only then would they will regain their original status. all of the gods agreed to this. shiva then restored the teeth, eyes, and testicles of the different gods. daksha was also revived by placing the head of a goat on his neck (more on this in a later post). after kratu’s testicles were restored, he married sannati, the daughter of daksha. they were all described as small sages no bigger than the joint of the thumb and said to be chaste and pious.

⚱️ later on, rishi kratu was again born in the vaivasvata manvantara (seventh and current manvantara), due to lord shiva’s boon. in this cyclic period of time, kratu had no family. it is reported that kratu was born from the hand of lord bharma, whereas the other rishis are said to have been born from other parts of the body of brahma. because kratu had no family and no children, he adopted agastya’s son: idhvaaha.

⚒ uttara ashadha natives understand that sacrifices have to be made for the betterment of society, as the many gods were sacrificed by participating in the harmful behavior that caused sati to jump into the deadly fire. specifically, these natives understand the sacrifice of career and monetary stability for this cause. these natives learn to reject traditional associations of femininity and masculinity and learn the essence of all life is an equilibrium of both (symbolic of kratu being castrated, thus having the phallic force being altered). uttara ashadhas act as brahma’s hand in which birthed the deity of strength (kratu), by lending a helping hand to those in need and never forgeting the importance of where they come from. famous singers like nicki minaj, joan jett, and nina simone understood this and frequently put their careers on the line to ensure they were treated with the utmost respect. modeling the sacrificial sati, nina simone sacrificed her career in singing to devote her entire life to advocating for civil rights and joan jett devoted her entire career to breaking gender norms and stereotypes. what people fail to understand is the integrity these women have. whatever surya women choose to do, they will stand by their decision and suffer the consequences. they understand in order to command respect, you must garner accountability. the act of activism arguably runs much deeper than jupitarian women. as kratu was once said to have no family and be alone, surya natives feel the need to guide others as they wish they could have been guided at a young age. these natives choose to adopt the burdens of the collective masses (as kratu with idhvaaha). they struggled with jealousy and male dichotomies and fantasies. they endured years of abandonment, loss, and energetic vampires sucking the light from them. only to shine like the bright stars they truly are, reaching their latter victory and choosing to never leave anyone behind or forgotten.

i highly encourage you to watch the clip below because it perfectly illustrates hows surya-ruled women understand the inadequacies and injustices of this world and decide to use their platform to speak on it:

https://youtu.be/PzGZamtlRP0

🐘 sza: uttara ashadha lagna

🎖the latter victory is quintessential, yet individualistic, to uttara ashadhas. throughout all areas of the life, these natives succeed in unimaginable ways. from sports, modeling, singing to activism and acting, they reach the highest possible success. once these natives have mastered the lessons of the planets shani, brihaspati, and surya, they have to learn from one more deity: yama. recall the foundational essence of yama reoccurring throughout this post, the elephant, bhairavi, and yama’s correlation to mahapudma. it is said that in order to examine the polarity of a nakshatra, you must examine the opposing nakshatra as well. the opposite of uttara ashadha is pushya (and punarvasu). both punarvasu and pushya are considered to be highly auspicious nakshatras. punarvasu is able to encapsulate the transition from destruction (ardra) and nourishment (pushya) with blessings of the motherly aditi and the supervision of brihaspati, but what happens when pushya is also into the darker elements of life?

🎯 both punarvasu and pushya are linked to brihaspati, due to punarvasu being ruled by brihaspati (via vimshottari dasha) and pushya being under the deity rulership of brihaspati. as i discussed on twitter recently, pushya is directly linked to funerals and morticians. the fourth house of cancer is said to be eight houses away from the twelfth house. thus, denoting one finding home, roots, or comfort in times of death or misfortune. the deities associated with shani are yama and prajapati. yama represents death, dharma, and the underworld and prajapati represents rebirth and creation (modeling the transformative themes of punarvasu as well). the deity of pushya, brihaspati, is said to be a sage born from the first great light, as punarvasu’s meaning is said to be “prosperous again” or “return of the light”. brihaspati is said to be the one who drives away darkness. pushya natives embody brihaspati by bringing great healing and comfort to those in terrible times. or they may embody yama and become hyperfixated with the themes of death. recall how angelina jolie (pushya lagna) stated she wanted to be a mortician when she grew up. a famous funeral director, marshall white, is likely a pushya chandra. a convicted m*rderer & mortician, bernie tiede, is a pushya surya.

🪦 uttara ashadhas marry and reflect the saturnian and jupitarian in a differing, but similar, way. throughout this post, dharma has been mentioned frequently. it is difficult to exactly provide a single definition for dharma, as the word has a long history and it’s interpretations vary throughout hinduism, buddhism, sikhism, and jainism. there is actually no equivalent synonym for dharma in english. the root of the word dharma is "dhri", meaning “to support, hold, or bear". dhri is what regulates the course of change by consistently abstaining from change. however, most can agree dharma means the “right way of living" and "path of rightness". this also depends on the context and the meaning of dharma, as it has evolved as ideas of hinduism have evolved through history. in the earliest texts and ancient myths of hinduism, dharma meant cosmic law, the rules that created the universe from chaos and rituals. after time, the meaning became more complex, it is said to designate human behaviors considered necessary for the order of things in the universe; principles that prevent chaos; and behaviors and actions necessary to all life in nature, society, and family.

🔪 whereas, yama is considered to have been the first mortal who died and saw the way to the celestial abodes. due to this, he became the lord of the departed. yama's name can also mean "twin", and in some myths he is paired with a twin sister names yamī. yama is assisted by chitragupta who is assigned with the task of keeping complete records of the actions of human beings on earth. upon the death of humans, yama decides if they shall reincarnate as a superior or inferior organism, depending on their actions on earth (karma). this is why yama is considered to be the lord of justice and is sometimes referred to as dharma, referring to yama’s unwavering dedication to maintaining order and his adherence to harmony.

🏹 like punarvasu and pushya, uttara ashadhas wish to guide others through their path of dharma, as the bow of brihaspati navigates through the winds, but they also struggle with neglecting themselves. they are so giving with their fruitful bounty, they often forget to spend time within. their inclination for guiding, giving, and dying unto oneself often becomes a fixation that eventually leads to burn out and tiredness. this is why uttara ashadha natives must study the nature of yama and learn when to set healthy boundaries. i will not be including the hymn of yama and yamī (the children of the sun god: surya) as to not trigger others with it’s inc*stuous nature, but it is an example of how those with saturnian/jupitarian influences must learn to set boundaries, even with those they love. sza’s (uttara ashadha lagna) “ctrl” album is a perfect example of the potential for vulnerability, imperfectness, and the deep capability of love these natives exhibit. i highly recommend listening to her songs “love galore”, “normal girl”, and “garden”, as they directly reflect the topics i have discussed in this post. learning to set boundaries will be difficult, as many of the times this creates a need to have difficult conversations with those we love. but when we align ourselves under the eyes of surya, we learn it is the key to flourishing into the tree of life.

🐘 sade adu: uttara ashadha surya

🌲 the movie “the tree of life”, stars multiple surya natives (including uttara ashadha chandra brad pitt). the movie tells an impressionistic story of a texan family in the 1950s. the film follows the life journey of the eldest son, jack (played by leo chandra sean penn and an uttara phalguni native and uttara ashadha atmakaraka hunter mccracken), through the innocence of childhood to his disillusioned adult years as he tries to reconcile a complicated relationship with his father (brad pitt). jack finds himself to be a lost soul in the modern world, seeking answers to the origins and meaning of life while questioning the true existence of faith.

🪵 the tree of life emblem is a popular, universal symbol that represents differing meanings across all cultures and religions. the symbol does not originate from one specific culture as it has been used all over the world for centuries. the tree of life is said to commonly represent the interconnectedness and intertwining of everything within the universe. it is symbolic of togetherness and serves as a reminder that you are never alone or isolated, but rather that you are connected to all beings in existence. the roots of the tree of life are deeply grounded and spread into the core of earth. by accepting the nourishment from mother earth, the tree’s branches reach up into the sky, accepting energy from the lights of both the surya and chandra. this correlates to the goddess matangi (who is the tantric form of saraswati). saraswati is the mother goddess of knowledge, wisdom, and the arts. one cannot grow solid roots without the foundational knowledge of life and nourishment (saraswati). with a solid foundation in place, the tree of life symbolizes the connection to one’s family and ancestors (ketu). the tree has an intricate network of branches that represent how our lineage grows and expands over time. trees will always find a way to keep growing, through seeds or new saplings, and is lush with greenery, which signifies its ancient fertility. 

🌧 all trees are unique and special. by their branches sprouting at different points and in different directions, they symbolize a person's personal growth into a unique human being as different experiences shape them into who they are destined to be. as time passes, both trees and ourselves gain more unique characteristics, as branches may break off, new ones grow, and as the weather takes its toll. during these alterations and changes, the tree remains steadfast and sturdy. as shani brings about trials and tribulations, people grow and change throughout their lifetime and their unique experiences mold and enhance their individuality. the tree of life loses it’s leaves and appears to be dead during winter, but after this trialing period of winter, new buds appear and fresh leaves unfurl to reveal their emerald-like beauty (matangi). this cyclical nature represents the beginning of a new life and a dawn of anew. in a way, the tree (our souls) is immortal. even though the tree may grow old or slightly wither, it still produces seeds that carry its essence through the figurative winds of prana. as the tree within us may never die, it shall only transform and be reborn.

🌊 at the end of the movie, “the tree of life”, the now adult jack wanders through a wasteland, as yama once died and symbolizes the purgatory state of the wasteland. jack goes through a doorway and finds himself on a beach. there he shares the screen with his father and mother who concedes her son to the higher power. jack realigned himself with his solar power and gleamed in the light of his mother and father, like the tree of life gleams in both the sunlight and moonlight. jack received the blessing of his mother, symbolic of the goddess saraswati, who offered him into the unknown light of yama. the truth is, most of us do not know what truly happens after we step into the final light, thus ending our earthly presence and accepting the unknown of the future. recall from earlier, fire is said to digest sensory impressions (water) and turn them into purposeful thoughts and ideas. as surya is said to calm the waters of the mind (chandra). jack’s alignment from the beach to heavenly light symbolizes he has finally digested and successfully pondered on his actions throughout his existence. he has calmed both the waters and fires within and is granted the true passage to afterlife.

🐘 nicki minaj: uttara ashadha lagna

⛰ it is now the native has returned to the peak pyramids of life. they have reached the zenith of their soul and look down from the symbolic pyramid to see the differing trees of life. they examine the highs and lows, sadness and happiness, and the polarities between chandra and surya. prana enshrouds the pyramid and blows the luscious, warm leaves of the trees around in the autumnal season. it is only the uttara ashadha native that will be left to see how far along they have come. in the beginning, uttara ashadhas were the lonely mongoose who simultaneously felt they belonged to everyone and no one. they tried to embody the personal surya to others and learned the error in their ways. these natives were there to lend a helping hand to others, no matter what that sacrifice entails. they have worn the masks of ketu, travelled as the head elephant leads his group, and now stand before the cosmic fire. the mongoose is no longer sad in his sedentary ways, he is fearless, in the sense his open to all feelings from deep love to intense sorrows. may you uttara ashadhas abide in your satya and may the strength of the vishvadevas guide you further into the unknown.

🐘 aaliyah: uttara ashadha surya

💋 as always, i am open to any constructive criticism! i tried to touch on the deities’ involvement in the appearances, manifestations, and symbolism of uttara ashadha. like the endangered elephant and the elusive mongoose, uttara ashadhas are a rare kind. they embody the true abundance of yang that is secure in their solar nature and path. people will latch on to their brihaspati, shani, and surya qualities, as they understand that these energies guide their environment to follow the behavior of the native (as a male elephant leads his family unit to safety and prosperity). uttara ashadhas are so kind, warm, and giving and you guys truly do not get the love you deserve. boundaries will be very important to these natives, as they are so giving (solar) with their knowledge and wealth (brihaspati), they must learn to set healthy boundaries (shani) to avoid burn out. if you are looking for more information about uttara ashadha, get to know the overrulers and supreme deities of surya, agni (fire god) and shiva (supreme god); brihaspati, indra (king of the gods) and brahma (law giver); and shani, yama (the god of death) and prajapati (the creator). also—and i cannot stress this enough—familiarize yourself with the deities of this nakshatra: the vishvadevas. if any of my placements or information are incorrect please feel free to let me know! also, i am fully aware of the origins of vedic astrology and if i was in anyway disrespectful to hindu culture, i will take down this post immediately. i am incredibly honored to know such lovely vedic astrology enthusiasts. you all mean so much to me xx

**all of these placements were found using astrotheme/.com and/or astro-charts/.com. it is important to note that some chandra (moon) placements may be off by up to 6 degrees and lagnas (risings) as well, due to the fact that many websites do not have 100% accurate birth times for the given celebrities.

**i take absolutely no credit for the invention of vedic astrology-based appearance profiles. please watch claire nakti on youtube or look into @/cn0bles, @/lovejustlied, @/dh4nishta, and @/vanillemercure on twitter for more in-depth analysis on vedic astrology xx

“i’ll tell you what freedom is to me, no fear.” - nina simone (uttara ashadha chandra)

xoxo, angel <3

[azurefishnets]

Yuletide Letter 2022

Dear Author,

I’m excited to have you join me for this Yuletide Exchange! I hope you find something that resonates with you here and thank you so much for taking this on! Feel free to mix and match as necessary; in all cases, all listed characters do not have to be included. I am 100% open to treats of all kinds, visual art included; they've been marked open for this exchange always.

You can always check out previous letters if the prompts here don't grab you too.

Chocobox Letter (2021) - Yuletide Letter (2021) - ToT (2021)

I am also also azurefishnets on Ao3.

LIKES:

worldbuilding (I love prompts where it’s like, pick a character and toss them in a location and see what happens)

sensory details (textures and smells especially)

unusual interactions (anything from slice of life to full adventure!)

puns and wordplay

cool symbolism & unexpected parallels

relationship level ups, whether that means platonic bonding or friends-to-more, etc

non-mundane AUs (no coffee shop, school, etc

fandom crossovers or fusions (but taken seriously, not cracky unless specifically requested)

missing moments

emotional support/intimacy

OKAY WITH:

any tense

any amount of plot or none

out-of-the-ordinary story structures

any amount of dialogue from none to screenplay

character explorations

characters appearing that aren’t requested as long as it doesn’t go against my DNWs

DNWS:

any kind of consent issues whatsoever

disrespect of the holy & symbol (AKA non-requested romantic relationships)

angst without a happy ending or at least some kind of resolution

infidelity

pandemic stuff

underage relationships, non-canon children

terminal illness

GHOST TRICK: PHANTOM DETECTIVE

Alma

Cabanela

Jowd

Emma

As always I’m really really feeling my OT3 love, so any amount of goodness with them would be great please and thank you. You can split them, you can write just two of them or one of them, that’s OK, as long as no infidelity is implied. I'm also OK with Cabanela being the world's most fantastically annoying yet fantastically wonderful friend to Alma/Jowd, if you'd prefer.

Or, if romance isn’t your bag, I'd love some Emma &! Jowd owes her big time in the new timeline... Cabanela schmoozing with her at a party in the old timeline could be interesting... Alma and Emma becoming friends is a friendship prompt of my heart!

BATEN KAITOS: ETERNAL WINGS & THE LOST OCEAN

Lyude

The Great Mizuti

Xelha

Worldbuilding

I would love some more worldbuilding here! Although I haven't played Origins (so please no spoilers there), I became very fond of this ridiculous crew and their weird, unique world... It would be a lot of fun to see Lyude getting adopted by Mizuti and her clan (I mean, he literally has no one and they no longer have a home. It's a match of the & variety!)

More worldbuilding would be awesome. Where DO they go after the end of the game? Xelha's got a lot of work to do with the other rulers to figure out logistics there... Xelha & Mizuti getting excited over new places would be cool! Xelha & Lyude could be interesting as Xelha finds herself in the place of giving advice on being a leader to Lyude...or, again, any X & Y + worldbuilding stuff would be really cool!

LIVE A LIVE

Cube

Li Kuugo

Tadokoro Akira

Takahara Masaru

I am so fascinated by the conceit of all these heroes having so little in common beyond being in the wrong place at the right time. It was very much a paradigm flip on what I THOUGHT was their connection and that's just freaking cool! So I would love some &s here. Any combination, although it doesn't have to be all of them, any kind of slice of life thing. The place where they find themselves in the end of the game isn't a place geared to build loving friendships but I'd love to hear how these manage it! Cube is just so loving and kind... Li has so much to learn about friendship and she is so alone... Akira has just come from a genuinely horrific place and needs some sweetness (He & Cube would be particularly good, come to think) and Masaru is just kind of a himbo but I think he & Li would have a lot to talk about. Plus I'm sure he'd love to spar with her and learn some moves! Or any other slice of lifely thing between any or all would be lovely.

I can't wait to see whatever you do! Thanks again for reading and see you at Yuletide!

[secret-engima]

So questions for the new verse. What is everyone else's reactions to learning about Nox's issues finding a Guide? How do the additional Sensory Issues affect her Quiet Days? How do Nyx and Nox end up bonding? Does Ardyn have any similar issues? Does Titus end up being his Guide in this Verse? What is Nox's reaction the first time Nyx helps her out of a Zone out? (Sorry to send you so many at once.)

It’s okay! I like the enthusiasm. So- to try to answer in maybe order (but probably not) (also keep in mind I’ve read like- two Sentinel-Guide fics in my entire life so my representation of the trope is probably utterly skewed because I’m making it up as I go based off the summaries I read):

-Regis is ... VERY surprised to learn that his eldest daughter is ALSO a Sentinel, since Noctis is the first known LC Sentinel in history (Ardyn laughs very quietly under his breath). Ardyn gently passes off the major coincidence as a side-effect of being an Izunia, as Izunia’s have “long had a tendency to be Sentinels”. Regis lets it go, but worries immensely when he realizes Nox has the same power issues as Noctis has (she doesn’t actually, hers are MUCH WORSE because of the Crystal memories, but she doesn’t tell him that). Clarus promises to look into finding a Guide strong enough to help her, but Nox tells him not to bother. Clarus still tries, because this is Regis’s daughter, but it rapidly becomes clear that the only Guide with a prayer of handling Nox is Titus, but Titus made a snap-bond with Ardyn that everyone is maybe freaking out over so...

-Quiet Days are now pretty much BECAUSE of her sensory issues, because her magic tends to feed into her senses and when she has too many KoL memories crowding in her head they feed into her senses and it HURTS. It hurts like fire and blood and knives of broken glass beneath her skin and she doesn’t so much wander during her Quiet Days has HIDE (Ardyn does too, and is ... honestly astonished by how much easier his Quiet Days are after Titus starts tracking him down and gently pulling him out of them). Everyone is super worried about Nox’s sensory issues, especially after she has a Zone-Out for like- 6 hours that not even Titus can pull her out from. It takes Titus and Regis working together to finally pull her free and she is exhausted by the end of it.

-Yes, Ardyn has similar issues, has had them for YEARS and honestly probably spent a good chunk of his imprisonment locked in a Zone-Out, which did NOTHING good for his sanity and was probably calmed down from them during his time in Niflheim through the use of Besithia-made drugs (which ALSO did nothing good to his sanity). Of course, Titus and Ardyn have accidentally made a snap-bond either during or shortly after the Binding of Glauca incident and so while tensions were high between them at first, Titus is firmly in Overprotective Mode now and has a good handle on dragging Ardyn back to reality, so Nox is actually way worse off than Ardyn (much to his worry).

-Nyx probably ends up bonding during the first time he helps Nox out of a Zone-Out (so when she’s around 16 or so depending on how rare her Zone-Outs are). He very much doesn’t mean to, but he knows that both Princesses have sensory issues as the only recorded LC Sentinels in history (until Ardyn’s Reveal anyway) and how most Guides don’t have a prayer of helping. Now, Nyx has no idea just how strong a Guide he is, because there’s not exactly any formal testing for that and because he’s a Jungle Hick, he knows he’s a Jungle Hick, and with how Insomnians are constantly underestimating Galahdians and Nyx’s only source of comparison are other Galahdians who also have no idea how strong they are, he believes he too would not have a prayer of helping.

-But then word goes out that she’s missing, probably hiding in a Quiet Day and all the Guides are called on to try to track her down. Nyx follows some ... instinct he can’t quite name but has always trusted and finds her tucked away in a corner, wheezing and shaking like a leaf, looking like she’s in pain just from existing. A touch-based Zone-Out, Nyx thinks and he’s heard from Crowe, Lib’s Sentinel, how painful those could be and he forgets all about calling for backup because Nox needs help NOW and Nyx has always been reckless.

-He reaches out with his mind, lets his Shields unfurl to gently ping Nox’s mind and promptly gets dragged under by the strength of her Zone-Out.

-If feels like drowning. If feels like burning. It feels like a thousand things and yet nothing at all (like drifting in a void as lifetimes roll by, an eternity captured in a second and a heartbeat stretched out for an age). Nox feels like she’s angry-happy-sad-old-young-dead-alive in her magic and emotions, so strong that Nyx’s own world blurs in a way he’s never known it could.

-And here is the thing. Nox’s KoL memories give shape to that blurring, give fuel and memory, but they do not create it. Magic does. Here is the thing no one but Ignis and Prompto of Nox’s time and the Ignis of this time know. LC magic will always try to pull in the Guide touching it, try to shape the reality that is being overridden by the hyper-enhanced sense in a sort of failed attempt to fix what magic itself is helping to break. This is the point where most Guides recoil and pull away, afraid of being caught and drowned in the tide when really the secret is to believe you can still breathe, to trust that no matter what magic tries to tell the Guide, reality is still the same, breathing is still the same, and all they have to do is find Noctis/Nox in the middle of it and pull her free. It’s not EASY, but it’s not complicated either. Most of the time. It’s just the terror of being wrenched under the flow of magic that stops most Guides before they can get started.

-But Nyx isn’t like most people. He isn’t afraid of magic, or the tides. He is jungle born and magic forged. Where the others panicked at the magic beneath their skin when they first felt it, struggled to accept the foreign thing as theirs to wield, Nyx had laughed and embraced it, reveled in the taste of ozone warping brought and the heartbeat of fire in his hands. So when Nox’s magic tries to yank him under, instead of recoiling, Nyx reaches out and dives.

-The world becomes a blurry battlefield, and impression of anger and fear as blood flows down too sensitive skin (the trigger of the Zone-Out, the memory of the feeling driving her sense of touch to the max without her consent). There are too many emotions to catch and Nyx feels like the ground could give beneath his feet at any second, and he’s VERY SURE that Guides aren’t supposed to feel or see things when helping a Sentinel, but this is Magic and magic breaks all the rules. So instead of panicking, Nyx takes a breathe, ignores the taste of blood on his tongue, and calls for Nox. He reaches, halfway between magical memory and reality, for Nox in the center of the maelstrom. He calls to her and lets magic pull his voice along rather than fighting it every inch of the way.

-He has an impression of blood red eyes, and then- Nox responds. Jerkily, hesitantly, but its enough for Nyx’s reality to solidify back to the Citadel and Nox’s hiding place, back to the princess shivering under the burning of her own skin, and Nyx doesn’t hesitate to wrap his mental shields around the storm of emotion-magic-memory-life-death that is Nox. Doesn’t hesitate to let her in. The storm is already under his skin anyway, a little more won’t kill him (he hopes).

-And Nox is desperate for the help and Nyx is stronger than he knows, and both those things together causes something between them to snap into place, bright and clear, a bond that lets emotions flow free between them, that lets Nyx feel Nox’s emotions beneath the tangle of KoL memory and let’s Nox anchor herself to the steady flare of Nyx’s soul and ... Nox’s shake stops. She blinks awake and breathes as her sense of touch finally dials back to normal, as she feels the world calm beneath strong shields that feel a little like far off thunder and fresh rain and concealing jungle vines.

-....What?

-Nox focuses on reality, on the BOND she thought was impossible to ever have now singing in her soul and stares at ... Nyx Ulric.

-Nyx stares back in equal shock and thinks that- just maybe- Lib was right about Nyx being destined to someday bite off more than he could chew.

-But Nox feels so relieved, so exhausted and disbelieving and overjoyed, like her entire soul is weeping that someone FINALLY was able to help her, bond with her, and Nyx already knows he will never regret it.

-Of course in about 3 years Nox is going to be 19 and Nyx is going to wake up and realize that his Princess Sentinel is Very Hot and Amazing and he’s head over heels for her and oh no. And then he will very much be a Regret. At least until Nox kisses him. XP.

[nellied-reviews]

The Sound and the Fury Re-listen

Well, I've reached episode 7 in my Wolf 359 re-listen, which means it's time for:

The Sound and the Fury

In which Hera and Minkowski are fighting, Eiffel gets caught in the middle, and Hilbert just wants them all to submit to the biologically superior will of the Blessed Eternal.

Straight up, I should probably admit that I forgot about this episode, or rather I didn't link the episode title to the episode's events until I was listening to it. And then I was like "oh, yeah, this is that episode" all the way through. For whatever reason, I thought, in particular, that the plant monster didn't come back until Season 2, with The Paranoia Game. That said, I love the plant monster to a possibly unreasonable degree, so its return here was more than welcome, and the rest of the episode was also fun!

We open in the middle of an argument - and for once, it's not Eiffel's fault. In fact, Eiffel isn't even involved, except insofar as he's trapped in the middle between Hera and Minkowski, and is forced to be the voice of reason as the two of them have it out. 

And look, that is always going to be a funny set-up. Hera and Minkowski are both incredibly stubborn personalities, and not at all shy about asserting their opinions, so there's definitely potential for a comically drawn-out, petty argument there. And casting Eiffel as the reasonable, level-headed peacekeeper, in contrast to the two of them, is perfect. It's in character - Eiffel always has been the most pacifist crew member - but it's also a role he's just totally unsuited to, because faced with the combined stubbornness of Hera and Minkowski, he's outmatched, and he knows it.

In an effort not to get involved, then, Eiffel briefly runs through the week's schedule, in a section that isn't really linked to the rest of the episode, but is full of little oddities that remind us just how weird the Hephaestus is. They have a compulsory chess tournament that Hilbert always wins. They have movie night, but only a VHS of Home Alone 2. "On Friday we'll have mustard." It's so weird, and I love it.

We're interrupted, at this point, by Hilbert, who sounds very strange, even for him. And naturally, Eiffel ignores it completely at first, focussed as he is on the unfolding Hera-Minkowski conflict. I've said it before, but I'll say it again, for such a pop culture-savvy guy, Eiffel falls into literally every horror movie cliché. He's so oblivious!

For the rest of us, it's obvious that something's wrong, and our suspicions are confirmed when we learn over the course of his conversation with Eiffel that Hilbert went looking for the plant monster, which now seems to be mind-controlling him, to the point where he's convinced that it's "the most evolutionarily competitive lifeform on this station, the most deserving of life."

And okay, I love the plant monster, but that's very alarming, and is made even more so by the fact that it's something that Hilbert might conceivably have said anyway? I mean, it's cold and Darwinistic and smacks of eugenics, yes, but it also has a callous ruthlessness to it that's totally Hilbert's style, as well as that trademark lack of concern for human life. It's like the plant monster just exaggerated what was already there, turned the mad scientist dial up to eleven. In other words, it made Hilbert even more Hilbert-y.

Luckily, Eiffel realises soon enough that something's wrong, and goes to warn Minkowski. Minkowski, being a mature, rational individual, immediately drops her argument with Hera and goes to - oh, wait, no, she does basically the opposite of that, ignoring Eiffel in favour of continuing her argument with Hera. Great. Good job, Commander.

It's at this point, of course, that we finally learn exactly what Minkowski and Hera are arguing about. And is it petty. Turns out, Minkowski wants Hera to submit reports on the various systems she runs around the station in case there's an emergency, but also just because Minkowski wants to know what's going on behind the scenes. We don't get to hear Hera's side of things just yet, but already, we can see the irony in Minkowski's arguments. Sure, she wants to be better appraised of everything going on onboard the Hephaestus in case of an emergency - but her stubbornness here means she's missing the emergency that's unfolding right under her nose!

Eiffel's attempts to make her see sense don't really help either, at this juncture. Instead, they just get him dragged into Minkowski and Hera's argument. Which I'm sure is that last thing he wants, because those two play dirty. First Minkowski pressures him into saying, to Hera's face, that he doesn't think AIs should be trusted. And then Hera, angry, plays Eiffel's words from earlier back to Minkowski, twisting what he said around so that both parties are angry at him. As a result, Eiffel ends up walking an impossibly thin line, trying to appease both of his friends, while keeping himself out of their argument as best he can and while getting increasingly frustrated with the both of them. It's a painfully awkward situation, and I genuinely feel sorry for him.

That said, the argument that then plays out is fascinating to me, because I think it shines a really interesting light on the power dynamics onboard the Hephaestus, putting the focus on Hera and Minkowski's relationship in a way that we haven't really seen before. Up until now, after all, they seem to have worked in tandem pretty well, with Minkowski giving orders and Hera carrying them out. Here, for the first time, we see a tension between them, stemming from the fact that Minkowski, as the commanding officer, nominally has the most power onboard the Hephaestus, while Hera, as the ship's AI, probably actually has the most power, between her vast sensory array, her huge databanks, and her literally running the entire Hephaestus. Yes, Minkowski is technically in charge, purely by virtue of her being a human. But Hera, on a day-to-day basis, is actually more crucial to their ongoing mission - even though, as an AI, she doesn't get to hold an official ranking position.

That's possibly why Hera takes Eiffel's well-meaning dismissal ("It's just her programming") so personally. It's a reminder of her different, subordinate status, and it reeks of a double standard - she's right that nobody would think to blame a human's erratic behaviours on their biology. That would be patronising, right? As much as Eiffel means well, writing Hera's reactions off as mere programming strips her of her agency - something that comes up again and again in her character arc. How much is Hera responsible for her actions, if she can also be programmed to act a certain way? In what ways has she been "made" a certain way, against her will? And how can she best deal with that while still retaining a sense of agency and control over her life and identity?  They're big, complicated questions, and we're only really scratching the surface here, but I do think it's a solid foundation for later developments. At the very least, we get the impression that Hera doesn't like to be reduced to her programming - and rightly so, I suspect. To some extent, at least, she is more than just the code that she is made of, just like humans are more than the sum of their biology. And that's a good thing to be establishing now, buried in the middle of a relatively low-stakes argument, before the more plotty stuff kicks off later on in the show.

And of course, it also bleeds into Hera and Minkowski's argument, which really picks up steam at this point, after an impassioned but ultimately futile speech from Eiffel about how it's a stupid fight to begin with and how making him pick sides is dumb and unfair. Hera, ignoring this, accuses Minkowski of feeling threatened by the big, powerful AI. That, for Hera, is why Minkowski is micromanaging her. It's because she's a typical human, insecure about an AI having more power than her.

Hera's point is almost immediately complicated by Minkowski, who rightly points out that the issue, for her, isn't that Hera's an AI. It's that Hera' unreliable. She keeps breaking down and glitching, and so the crew keep experiencing emergencies that could maybe be avoided if Hera would just give Minkowski the reports she wants. We've seen Hera break down as recently as last episode, and so this does kind of ring true, even if the way that Minkowski brings up Hera' vocal glitching feels like a bit of a low blow.

Both of them, then, have a point, and I think it's also worth noting that it's also, as Minkowski points out to Eiffel, a question of protocol. Whether Hera likes it or not, Minkowski is, technically, her commanding officer, and should be able to just give her commands and demand reports from her. Refusing to do so undermines Minkowski's authority. That said, Hera didn't exactly have a choice when it came to joining whatever weird sort-of military thing Goddard has going on. She never signed up for the whole "commanding officer" thing, so why should she obey Minkowski? Because she's programmed to?

It's messy, grey situation, with no clear answers, and it's worth noting that the argument doesn't really get resolved. Neither Minkowski nor Hera back down at any point. Instead, a combination of Eiffel calling them out for being childish and Hilbert attempting a coup snaps them out of it, reminding them that they have bigger problems right now. There is a time and a place for the discussion they were having. But that time is not now, and so they decide, without really discussing it, to set aside their grievances. It's not that their respective opinions aren't valid. But keeping each other (and the rest of the crew) safe comes first, and so they bond over being annoyed at Eiffel, and they set off to save Hilbert. It's sweet, in a way, and I like how quickly they both just get on with it. And Eiffel's dejected resignation at the end is the cherry on top. Bless him.

And so we get to the end of an episode that, while it's reliably funny, also gives us an outline of the main points in an argument that we probably should have seen coming. It's yet another example of how stress and tension can easily build up in the contained, isolated atmosphere of the Hephaestus - only this time, we don't get Eiffel cracking and hoarding toothpaste, we get Hera and Minkowski cracking and unleashing the titular sound and fury. The points raised get us thinking, in particular, about Hera's status, as an AI, but also just as a member of the Hephaestus' crew. Eiffel, meanwhile, is forced into a responsible, mediating role that he is neither comfortable in nor particularly good at. And at the end of the day, we're reassured that Minkowski and Hera do, at least, have their priorities straight. Arguing over reports is fine and dandy, but it's not worth getting killed over.

And of course, perhaps most excitingly, the plant monster returns. Surrender your flesh, and feed your new master :)

 Miscellaneous thoughts:

It doesn't escape my attention that this is the second title that's a Shakespeare reference. Keeping it classy there, Doug

"Umm... that's all it says for Friday."

The schedule bit is basically the Night Vale Community Calendar segment, but in space

Hilbert's voice in this is sooo weird and dull and creepy ugh

I know the science of it isn't really the focus here, and I'm 100% down with that, but also how does a plant mind control people?!? I want to know!

"Our operating system is a tin-headed, insubordinate, feckless fool!"

"Sit your Swiss ass down, and take a side, Doug."

Aww, Eiffel just sounds so confused and stressed-out by the whole situation :(

And finally we get the obvious Little Shop of Horrors plant monster joke :)

I didn't go into much detail about Eiffel in this, but his speech where he finally gets them to shut up and work together again is also great and I love it jsyk

"Shut up, Plant-Hilbert." Bwahahahaha.

[griffins-fanfic]

Lovesick

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality

Word Count: 1855

Logan had planned to spend the night with music, tea, and the stack of library books he had recently acquired, but the universe had other plans for him. Thirty pages into his book, his roommate came into the living room and flopped dramatically onto his lap. Virgil screamed for a good forty-five seconds into Logan’s thighs.

    “I presume that you saw the show?” Roman had invited them to see in a production of some community show he was in, but Logan found that musicals tended to trigger his sensory issues, so he respectfully declined.

    “He has absolutely no right to be that pretty. How is that fair?” Virgil groaned. “How could he do this to me?”

    “I picked up a couple books you might enjoy, would you like to read one of them?” Logan wasn’t sure whether he wanted the distraction, but he thought he should try. Hopefully Virgil wouldn’t talk his ear off for an hour again.

    “I know you avoid those meet and greets like the plague, but there really is another energy to them. I went to go congratulate him afterwards, and I could think about nothing more than how much I wanted to kiss him. Then I gave him the flowers I bought him. I bought him flowers, Logan, Flowers! Why did I do that? What if he thinks that’s weird.”

    “Flowers are the traditional thing to give performers after the show. It started in the 1930s with dancers, and it signifies praise at a person’s performance. The exchange of flowers can be considered perfectly platonic, and Roman is most likely too busy enjoying the validation he got from it to think of it as anything weird. Did you enjoy it?”

    “The cast was good, but he was truly the shining star. He commanded the stage every time he was on it, which was a lot of the time. I was in the second row and I could see how alive his face was, he was having so much fun. He’s so, argh!, it’s frustrating how lovable he is.”

    Logan sighed. “You know-”

    Virgil interrupted him by shoving his hand in Logan’s face. “Pulse.” Logan took his pulse, counting it along with the clock on the wall. It was high.

    “I know what you want to say, but you know as well as I do that I could never do that. Remember, I’ve tried. It didn’t go well.” That was an exhausting day. Logan had to deal with mid-panic attack Virgil in his room at 2 am. But this endless pining was starting to grate on his nerves.

    “Have you tried texting him?”

    “Confessing my feelings over text? To Roman?” He’d never accept that.”

    “A letter? I’m sure his hopeless romantic heart would adore it.”

    “I can never find wording good enough. My feelings are too much to put into words adequately.”

    “So you’re just going to talk my ear off for eternity while I’m trying to read? You need to get over yourself and tell him. I’m telling you that whatever horrible thing you think is going to happen will never transpire. The worst case scenario is a small period of awkwardness until you two deal with it. Roman adores you too much to do the big, dramatic rejection you’re imagining.”

    Virgil mumbled something into his lap that sounded suspiciously like “hypocrite” before he rolled over. “I’ll take one of those books.”

    Logan managed to enjoy the rest of his night with his book, just with the added element of his roommate in his lap

~~~

Logan was pining hard, and it nearly made Virgil cringe. He recognized the change in Logan’s demeanor anytime Patton entered the room. The look in his eyes whenever Patton smiled. The sigh he let out whenever he got a text. It was real pathetic, but he couldn’t comment on it without Logan giving him that look. The look of “you’re one to talk.”

    During a weekly movie night, He got fed up. He had been assigned snack duty with Roman, so he brought it up while they were in the kitchen.

    “We need to deal with Logan.” He said, startling Roman, who had been reaching for the pretzels.

    “What are you talking about?” Roman asked,

    “You know exactly what I’m talking about. His pining is too pathetic, it’s disgusting.”

    “Well I think it’s quite sweet. There’s something magical about the crush stage of a relationship.”

    “Yeah, well, it was cute for the first six months. I’m sure it’ll be even cuter when they grow a pair and actually start dating.”

    Roman scoffed. “You have no romanticism. You probably haven’t even been in love before!”

    Virgil held back the half sob, half laugh that was bubbling up. He had no idea. Instead he sighed, and hopped up to sit on the counter. “Look, can we get back to the task at hand?”

    “I’ve got some piping hot tea for you. Patton definitely reciprocates.”

    Virgil gasped dramatically and put his hand over his mouth. “Shock and awe! I had no idea! Normally I’d say let them work it out on their own, I wouldn’t want people meddling in my own relationships, but if I have to deal with one more lovesick sigh whenever Logan sees a photo of him on Facebook, I’m going to freak.”

    Roman pulled the popcorn out of the microwave. “Ok, I have a plan that might work.” He leaned in to whisper it into Virgil’s ear.

~~~

Logan was going to die. There was all this room on the couch and Patton had chosen to lean up against him. Patton was a naturally tactile person, anyone who knew him even vaguely was aware of that, but he had no idea what he was doing to Logan.

    His heart was beating indescribably fast, and a little part of his brain was convinced that Patton could hear it, even if the idea was absurd. He was leaning against his shoulder, not his chest.

    Virgil came into the room with Patton’s biggest bowl filled with popcorn. He, respectively, sat at the other end of the couch. Patton sat up a little bit, but was still a little close for comfort, even though most of Logan was enjoying it.

    “Where’s Roman?” Patton asked, and Logan’s heart fluttered. His voice was so soft and caring,

    “He had to take a phone call, he’ll be back soon. Did y’all decide on a movie yet?”

    “The first Harry Potter movie! Logan hasn’t seen it yet, somehow.”

    “You know I find fantasy a little too dreamy for my tastes. I did read the books in high school, but I never cared to watch the movies.”

    Roman rushed into the room. “My apologies, but I’m afraid I’m needed elsewhere. Remy just called me in a panic. Apparently he’s getting proposed to tonight and needs my help on choosing his outfit.” He then checked his phone, pretending to get a text. “And he’s requesting Virgil’s help with makeup.”

    Patton sat up fully then, and Logan was both relieved and disappointed. He missed the warmth. “Oh dear. We can postpone the movie till tomorrow night.”

    “NO!” Roman shouted, way too enthusiastic.

    The room was stunned into silence before Virgil saved it. “Everything’s all prepared, it would be a shame for us to waste it. Besides, Roman and I have seen the movie a hundred times. You two enjoy yourself, we will go help him.”

    They rushed out the door, leaving the two alone. Logan resented them for it.

    As soon as the door closed behind them, Patton started shoveling popcorn into his mouth. “Well, that was the worst excuse I’ve ever heard.”

    “Wh-what?” Logan asked.

    “It was obviously just a ploy to get us alone. Remy would never ask for anyone else’s fashion advice, even Roman’s.”

    “Why would they do that.” Logan knew full well why, but he wanted to see what Patton thought.

    “Well, because I’m in love with you, silly. I could hear them scheming in the kitchen.” Logan had been too busy screaming internally to pay attention to them while they were getting snacks and-wait, what did he just say?

    “What did you just say?”

    Logan watched as Patton processed the gravity of the words he had just said. “I mean, uh, I, well. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to drop a bombshell like that so casually. It’s perfectly fine if you don’t feel the same, if fact, it’s truly understandable. I mean, I don’t know why I thought you would feel the same in the first place. It’s just a silly little crush.”

    “Patton.” Logan tried to cut him off, but he kept rambling.

    “And I wouldn’t even be offended I was just being dumb-”

    Logan took Patton’s face in his hands. “Can I kiss you?”

    This time Patton was the one that was speechless. “Huh?”

    “Can. I. Kiss. You?”

    “Uhm, yes.”

    And so he did. And he had no idea why in the world he waited so long. No fireworks exploded, no intertwining of souls. But it was soft, and gentle, and was the best thing Logan had ever experienced, and he once solved a Rubik’s Cube in thirty seconds.

    They did get through the movie, but Logan spent a lot of it staring at the man he was cuddling, incredulous.

~~~

Roman and Virgil had found themselves in the park after their escape. It was dark out, so there were no kids on the playground. Virgil was hanging upside down from the monkey bars while Roman paced back and forth in front of him, ranting about story idea that had nestled itself into his mind.

    “So the dragon witch is like ‘roar! No man can save the maiden!’ then the knight goes all Eowyn like ‘I am no man!’ and the maiden and the cook live happily ever after!”

    Virgil did his best to shrug while upside down. “Could be gayer.” The phrase had become a sort of inside joke between the two of them.

    Roman muttered angrily. “Could be-it’s already real gay! It’s lesbian fantasy!”

    “Could be gayer.”

    Roman only scoffed and picked up his pacing again. Virgil loved watching him while he was in the zone, it was one of the only times he could openly stare without getting caught.

    “I love you.” He muttered, then panicked when Roman stopped. He hadn’t meant to say it out loud, much less loud enough that he could hear it. “I mean, uh,” That’s when he fell off the monkey bars.

    “By the beard of Zeus! Virgil, are you okay?”

    Virgil stood up and dusted himself off. “I’m fine, just a small scrape on my palm.” Virgil hoped the fall would distract Roman from his confession.

    “We should go get that cleaned up.” Roman paused. “But before that.”

    Virgil wondered what he was going to do, then he found himself being kissed. Ah, he was going to do that. The kiss was short, but passionate, and both were gasping when they pulled away.

    “How was that?” Roman asked.

    Virgil just shrugged, small smile dancing across his face. “Could be gayer.” Roman shoved him away before Virgil pulled him back for another.

[eldritchsurveys]

740.

How many walls are in your bedroom? >> Six, because the closet juts out from one of the corners. What do you think about Fall Out Boy? >> I enjoy their music quite a bit, especially Save Rock and Roll and Mania. Do you know where Guatemala is? >> Generally, yes. Specifically, nope. Do you find musicians attractive? >> I think being skilled in an art form -- but especially music -- is attractive, but not, like, “I want to sleep with you”-attractive, which is what I think people mean by this question. Just... I like art, I especially like music, by extension I’m interested by people who make art and especially music. Do you like hard boiled eggs? >> Yeah.

Do you know anyone named Hector? >> I used to, but we didn’t really call him that, we called him Luis. Would you move to another country for the one you love? >> I’ve moved across country for someone, but emigration is a lot harder than that, so I don’t know. I think what’s more important is whether I could even emigrate in the first place, seeing as the process is difficult even for people with money and marketable skills... Do you own an instrument? >> No. What do you usually have for lunch? >> I don’t usually eat a lunch, per se. I kind of graze for most of the day. The most organised thing I might make is a sandwich or some microwave thing. Ever had a pregnancy scare? >> Yes. What do you think about the Purple People Eater? >> I don’t really know what it is, if I’m honest. I’ve heard the song and I’ve heard references to it, but that’s it. Are you pale or tan? >> Dark-skinned. I’ve seen complaints about the America-centric lines of questioning in surveys, but can we talk about the whiteness lmao... What’s the weather like right now? >> Cloudy and chilly. I don’t know where Lady Spring is, but someone please tell her that I am dying. Do you like cats? >> Not especially. I can live with one if I must, obviously, since I do; but I’m not really interested in his existence or anything. I’m kind of turned off by people going apeshit about cats all the time, if I’m honest, but it’s hard to be honest about that without people taking offense. It’s not you, it’s me, etc etc. (It’s probably because I’m a spider and everyone hates spiders.) What’s the best part about Wal*Mart? >> I don’t know, I’m not terribly fond of Wal*Mart myself. Do you think Akon is amazing or annoying? >> I haven’t heard his name in years, lmao. Also, I have no opinion. Do you like the buzz cigarettes give you? >> Yeah, which is the reason I pick up a clove every now and then. Sometimes I just want to get into that headspace. Are you a practical joker? >> No. Do you like pop? >> Not the Pepsi and Coke kinds. I like “weird” sodas, I guess. And ginger beer, which is sort of like a soda. What are you looking forward to? >> Hmm. Oh, Sparrow is going back to work on Monday, apparently! Out of context it sounds like I hate her or something, probably, but it’s not that at all. She’s the only person I can bear being quarantined with. But like, I just like being in the apartment alone for a while. I feel... constricted when someone else is around all the time, and while that’s lessened with her it isn’t nonexistent lmao. I just need time where I’m left to my own devices without being observed by other people, any other people, it’s a weird need but it’s mine and I’ll be glad to have that need met again. Have you ever laughed so hard you couldn’t breathe? >> Yeah. What’s your favorite band? >> The Receiving End of Sirens is one. Do you feel stupid when you spill things on yourself? >> Yeah. Are you excited for summer? >> I would be, under normal circumstances! Now I just dread having to be stuck inside for the whole thing. I’m going to try walking trails and stuff, just to... be the fuck outside, but still. Have you ever snuck out? >> No. When’s the last time you were kissed? >> Oh, I don’t know. Would you ever eat popcorn & salsa? >> No, thanks. Do you sleep with the television on? >> Nope. I require silence. The only exception is, say, I’m in a motel room and other guests are being rowdy. Then I’ll put on something to, like, have a controlled and constant sound going as a counter to their chaos. Would you ever want to be able to be invisible? >> I mean, sure, there are situations where I could see that being advantageous. What does your favorite shirt look like? >> I don’t have one. What’s your favorite scent? >> ^ Skype, Msn, Aim, or Yahoo? >> Discord. What’s your favorite time of the day? >> I like dawn. I also like dusk, but only in the summer. Summer dusk is a beautiful thing. Do you hate the phrase “love ya” when coming from a boyfriend/girlfriend? >> No...? What do you do when someone in the room has b.o.? >> Distance myself as much as possible, as discreetly as possible. I don’t want to embarrass them, I just don’t want to deal with sensory overload. What movie would you like to see right now? >> Oh, stuff. How many times a day do you shower? >> It depends on the day. Some days, zero. Some days, once. What do you think of the name Chloe? >> It’s all right. I wouldn’t give it to a character, but it’s all right. Do you like Hollister? >> I’ve never even been inside one. (I’m pretty sure that’s one of the stores that they spray fragrance throughout, like Abercrombie, so that’s all the reason I need to never go inside.) What’s your favorite alcoholic drink? >> Absinthe. Do you like 80’s music? >> Sure, some of the music I like was made in the eighties. Do you have to wear glasses or have contacts? >> No. Do you play Halo or Gears of War? >> I played Gears with a friend years ago. I don’t play it now, though. That kind of game is pretty much only enjoyable for me with a friend, so. How do you feel about cleaning? >> I hate it, but I love the results. What do you think of emo kids? >> I appreciate them. Do you like the movie Grease? >> I haven’t seen it since I was a teenager, probably, so I don’t really remember it. I just have a vague recollection of a couple of the songs, and I remember what the main characters looked like. I’d probably like it if I watched it again; my thing for greasers is still alive and kickin, after all. Do you like singing? >> Sure do.

What’s your favorite Jim Carrey movie? >> The Number 23! I love that movie so much. Now I want to rewatch it.... I’m going to rewatch it. I’m going to spend four dollars to rent it on YouTube as soon as I’m finished with this smh, I can’t resist. It just hits me right where I live,  something about it is so intensely relatable for me, I don’t know. Probably because I’m haunted by a number, too. Runner-up for fave Carrey flick is Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. There’s a knock at your door at 4 in the morning; what do you do? >> Nothing. Whoever it is, we have no business with them. Do you like peaches? >> Sure. Ever lost a best friend? >> No.

Ever heard of a town called Wadena? >> No. Have you ever been to a funeral? >> Yes. What’s your favorite sport? >> Figure skating. What do you think about homeschooling? >> I’m interested in it, and the ways in which it can be implemented. I’m also pretty against a lot of things about public schooling in America, so, you know. What do you think about French people? >> I don’t have any opinions about French people. Do you like your parents? >> They don’t like me, which I think settles the issue right there. What do you think about Minnesota? >> I don’t have any thoughts about Minnesota. Do/did you like high school? >> I did not. Do you have any Asian friends? >> I’m acquainted with a few Asian people. Is it cold where you live? >> Yes, still. I fucking hate it. Do you find accents attractive? >> I mean, not as a rule. I find the mechanics of language interesting, so that attracts me, I guess. Do you hate it when people make spelling mistakes? >> No. Would you ever let your boyfriend/girlfriend do your makeup? >> Sure. She knows more about it than I do. Do you like to shop? >> No. How long are you on the computer during a 24 hour period? >> For just about the entire time I’m awake, nowadays. When I’m not in quarantine, then it depends on what else is happening that day. Is money really that important? >> I mean, sure it’s important. I can’t believe that would ever be in question. Wars are fought over it, people suffer and die because they don’t have enough of it, and people lose their whole sense of compassion and empathy when they have too much of it. It’s important, all right. Have you ever broken a bone? >> Nope. Who is your favorite family member? >> --- What size bed do you have? >> Twin, because it’s the only size that would fit in this room without making it utterly claustrophobic. I bark my elbow on the wall and accidentally knock shit off my nightstand all the time, but at least it’s a real bed that belongs to me, for once. What age do you want to be married? >> Well, I was 32, so.

What’s the last thing your wrote? >> Like, longhand? I have no idea. What do you think of your town? >> I don’t care for it. When’s the last time you played hide & go seek? >> Thanksgiving or some holiday like that. I played with Edward, who is a toddler. I always play with him when we see his parents on holidays, even when it makes me tired (where do kids get all that energy???), because I like him.

[bunker-verse]

Drabble: Into the Fire ( welcome, Jedi Collins )

                “I dunno, Sam,” Buffy’s sunny, these days. Lots of yellow, a re-appearance of spring butterflies here and there in her hair. Like she’s trying to use color to pull herself out of whatever funk she’s been in lately. Shades of morning and summer to offset her gloomy demeanor. Her eyes cast down to her half-eaten yogurt, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with an equally tired, equally glum Caroline who hasn’t taken her eyes off Stefan since he walked into the room. It’s late, somewhere in the midst of twilight that sees these overworked, underpaid Avengers finally up and at ’em. Sitting down to the world’s most depressing breakfast before heading out for nightly patrols.

Buffy sighs without making a sound and doesn’t lift her gaze until she absolutely has to, “I mean, I don’t have context, I’ll grant you — I only faced Katherine once. And I know you guys have history,” which is the nicest way, ever, of saying Sam has a thing about bad girls that gets him into an awful lot of trouble, “It’s just, after everything she’s done. Sam. After everyone she’s hurt…”

         Sam half-smiles, flinches, that annoyed little tick that rears it’s ugly head when someone’s listening, but they’re not hearing him. He’s frazzled, has to get his hair out of his face, so he brushes it back with both hands, “You know, I get it. I do, I get why you’ve got reservations and, you should. Katherine’s done a lot of damage but if we’re saying that makes her damaged goods? That she’s not worth saving? I’m sorry, I just don’t accept that.”

                  That would be catnip to Faith if she hadn’t checked out the minute Katherine’s name was brought up. She’s vaguely aware of what’s going on, and about how much of Sam’s ass will get kicked later on for this weird obsession with a former slice that was, by all accounts, a cheap placeholder for Faith in his life. Right now, though? By the grace of God, it’s none of her business. 

She’s sliding in her earpods, intent on ignoring this all in favor of every Smashing Pumpkins song she’s ever heard, when one of them is suddenly yanked out of her ear. She turns her head a bit, just in time to see Damon plop down on the seat between Ric and herself with a smirk and the most wicked eyebrows you’ve ever seen. 

    He wants something, and it’s distracting to Sam to watch Damon sweep glossy curls off Faith’s neck as a dramatic prelude to whispering something in her ear, cheek to cheek, that tickles her enough to crack a pirate grin across her face — distracting, but not for the reason you’re thinking. Damon’s too touchy-feely. Especially here lately, walking around cocooned in the glow of eternal honeymoon. Pulling a Joe Biden with anyone who doesn’t flinch. It’s just how he is and they all know he doesn’t mean anything by it. Ric doesn’t even look up from his book for anything but a bite of his sandwich. He doesn’t really need to. For all their bullshit, there’s a trust building there that’s a beautiful thing to behold — or, it would be, if anyone noticed. So long as Damon’s not leering at Sam, Ric can deal.

Sam’s still not happy, about to lay the whole situation out because Buffy’s about as wrong as you get without being Bizarro Superman. When someone finally busts in, it’s Dean. Both elbows on the giant table, forehead in his hands. Frustrated by a replay of fluffy-headed nonsense from the original Ruby Apologist, “Alright, alright, alright,” he uses his patented shushing hand to quiet his brother before he can do more damage, eyes still shut for another blissful moment before he’s got to join the conversation, “Look, Dude. I get you have some fond memories there, who wouldn’t? But Buffy’s right. What’s Katherine ever done but go full-on Cujo on us? Huh? No. No, Sammy, we got our own problems now. Long as she doesn’t go floatin’ around, making noise, we got no reason to cross her path, but fat-ass chance of her staying quiet.”

                   Sam’s complaint catches in his throat and he’s on his feet, pacing away towards the telescope with both fists in his hair. He sighs, turns back to the group and tries not to look like a toddler with his arms folded, “Fine. You’re right, she’s not trustworthy… and I’m not saying she is but she came to me for help. I think. Maybe she just needs to feel like she can come to us if she’s in trouble?”

Caroline sighs, obviously tired. Of the conversation, mostly. She definitely got more sleep when she was human. Her cheek’s resting hard on the edge of her balled-up fist and when she speaks, it’s weakly through a set jaw, “Okay. I don’t love it, but if you think she’s being genuine? We trust your judgement.” she glances around the rest of the group, hoping for some show of support to put an end to a conversation she doesn’t really want to be having, “Don’t we?��

      The room falls almost silent at that, no one really wanting to be the first to agree that Katherine Pierce should get the benefit of any doubt. What sounds there are seem nervous. The squeak of the cloth against Giles already clean glasses. Dean loudly clearing his throat. A ‘since when’ look on Castiel’s face that’s almost audible. Sam’s pissy, “Yeah.” is the cherry on top of the silence. He’s not getting anywhere with this group, and he knows it.

               “Never fear,” if there’s one thing Xander Harris is good at, it’s putting himself in a situation that might end in a kicking of his ass. It’s a good thing the group in front of him is used to crappy surprises, because in other circumstances? Announcing his presence like a jump scare to a group of tired, jittery superheroes might have ended badly. As it is, the tension and exhaustion is obvious as he makes his way into the middle of the War Room with a clearly unwanted junior Slayer and a pretty little red-headed thing no one’s ever seen before,  “Xander’s…” he’s barely acknowledged. He slows, looks around at a crowd that’s definitely not happy to see them, “… here?” then glances back at his posse with an uninspired, sarcastic shrug, “And you guys were worried we were interrupting something.”

Kennedy, who looks less than enthusiastic to be part of an entourage lead by Xander Harris, shoots the room a look and puts one hand on her hip and a friendly arm around the new girl’s shoulders, “See, Jedi? I told you the Men of Letters were total adults,” it’s sarcasm, but at least it’s a chipper sarcasm.

          If confusion could manifest as a person, it would be the new girl in the room. With her huge, innocent eyes and miles of ginger mane, Jedi definitely stands out in the crowd of exhausted hunters. She’s taking things in as calmly as she can, but being in the Men of Letters bunker, for someone with a heightened olfactory sense, is like being in a candle shop. A gross, disgusting candle shop that sells trash-scented candles. It’s sensory overload for someone not used to it. The Slayers smell human, mostly. Like a fight, the dirt in a wet cemetery all being masked by expensive perfume and cigarettes. The hunters, more like booze and gunpowder — all familiar to her. 

                       What’s not familiar? There are corpses in this room. They walk, they talk. They spend too much time on their hair. The group’s vampire-to-everyone-else ratio is actually ridiculously high, and if it weren’t for the fact that there were more than one species of vampire in this room, they’d be easy to pick out just from the scent.

        And there’s a demon in there. Sulfur, whiskey and fear. At least one, but demons aren’t something Jedi’s run into, much, and pinpointing exactly what that scent is will likely keep her up, tonight. Xander glances back at her, “You okay, Jed?” she nods, and he goes back to addressing the group, “I’m gonna go out on a limb and say this isn’t great timing, but we kinda have a fire to put out, here.”

                       If Damon smells a werewolf, he’s not saying anything. Just finds a way to sit closer to Ric and gently elbow his ribs to get him into the game. It works, and when Ric looks up he finds that Caroline and Stefan are sharing a concerned glance, one that makes it’s way towards Dalaric. The vampires look to Angel, standing as far off from the group as he physically can manage without technically being in another room. There seems to be a consensus among the undead — vampires and werewolves aren’t a great mix on a good day, but with everything going on with Katherine and the Hellmouth, now’s not really the time for a strange wolf in the mix.

           Dean closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose and winces as Sam tosses him a beer from the other side of the table. He catches it in mid-air, twists it open and motions with it to the newbies in the group, “Who the hell gave him a key?” not that Dean has an issue with Xander, besides hating his guts, but lately it’s starting to feel like they’re running a hotel for the Shadow World.

                      Heavily, Sam takes the empty seat beside Faith and absently drapes an arm across her back, coupling easily in a way that makes Dean’s stomach turn. She’s not even paying attention, reacts by resting comfortably back against him and finally opening her mouth on the subject, “What are you guys even doing here, anyway? Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you’re lookin’ to get a room for the night? We’re all booked up on crazy, here.”

         “See? I told you this was a waste of time – ” Kennedy starts, but Xander’s not having it.

        “Look,” he interrupts, folding his arms, “I’m getting we walked into a hornet’s nest, here, but we’ve pretty much got bad coming out the wah-zoo. As the Undead Americans probably already figured out, Jedi’s a werewolf. Thing is, she’s trying to outrun a bigger wolf and we need a place to lay low while we figure out how to take him on.”

                         Jedi’s attention is taken by Kennedy, who’s still leaning on her, arm around her like they’re friends. If Kennedy seems too calm, it’s because she is. This doesn’t affect her like it affects everyone else and, frankly, she thinks she should get brownie points for bothering to show up. Kennedy rolls her eyes, looks from Dean to Sam, “I seem to remember someone telling us if we ever needed help?”

         “Yeah,” Dean’s the one who responds, pushing out of his chair and making his way towards Xander’s group. He’s looking down his nose at them, literally. Chest puffed out. Fucking werewolf. He knew he didn’t like the smell of this whole thing, “Well, that means the Slayers, Buddy. Not you, and not just any old rando demon off the street. How do we know this thing’s even house broken?”

“She’s not a ‘thing‘.” as if Dean doesn’t infuriate Xander on the regular, as it is, “Hey, she’s innocent, okay? She needs help. We do still help people, right?”

                        “Right,” it’s back to Dean, standing taller in his boots. Shoulders back, in no mood, “People. We help people, Harris. Oh man, do you ever have bad timing.”

          “We just lost people,” Buffy slowly makes her way towards the group, Caroline and Willow not far behind. She crosses her arms stiffly and glances over at Willow before continuing, “A Slayer. A couple of hunters. It was wolves, Xand. We were ambushed. I- I know she had nothing to do with it, but this? It’s just a little hard to take right now.”

“I mean, we wanna help?” when Willow finally speaks, there’s a weakness to it. The weight of that loss on her heart is audible in her voice, “We will help, just…”

     Sam takes his time standing, prompting Faith with him. It takes them both a few long moments to crowd around the newcomers, shoulder to shoulder. He sighs, “She’s right, we’ll help if we can but Xand, we’re at war right now. I mean, another Hellmouth went active just three hours from here and KC’s rumbling. Now the Clave is pushing us to put up the Lightwoods for a couple of weeks to learn how to control dimensional disruption because Brooklyn’s a full-blown Hellmouth. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we’ll do what we can do. We just need to be sure having her here’s not putting everyone else in danger.”

                “Dude,” Dean sighs it out, “We’re not set up to deal with a werewolf here, okay? Full moon in three days, Sammy! Use your head. You really wanna risk that thing tearing into somebody, huh? Having to put it down?”

     She.” Xander’s about in Dean’s face, now. He knows. He knows what’ll happen to him if he throws a punch, but he’s not thinking straight, “Not ‘it’, she and she’s got a name. Jedi.”

                 Dean sneers, starts advancing on Xander in a way menacing enough that Jedi finally wrestles herself away from Kennedy and practically lunges at Dean, baring human teeth the way you’d expect a wolf to bare theirs. Surprisingly, it’s Faith who slides between the wolf and her brother-in-law, takes one of Jed’s shoulders and spins her back into Xander so hard it almost topples them both, “Whoa! Watch it, Jojo! Anybody’s gonna tear his throat out? Gonna be me.” Faith starts to step back, cautiously, reclaim her place beside Sam like it’s her birthright or something, “You best leash that dog, Harris. Somebody’s gonna get hurt.”

        For Jedi, though, it’s not over and as soon as she gets her balance again, she’s headed for Dean. Slow, angry. Out to protect the man who saved her life. Dean’s calm about it, when he reaches for his gun. It’s almost casual if there is such a thing. Before she’s anywhere near him, he raises the weapon, aims it and squeezes off a round – grazes her cheek, “Warning shot, Mama. Next time I don’t miss.” he up-nods in her direction, “Back off, Bitch.”

                       When the bullet whizzes by, Jedi’s head turns with it. She snaps back, slow and angry, glaring at Dean. She’s bleeding. Long, thin cut on her cheekbone. And her eyes, usually that pale, grey-blue that nobody seems to notice but Xander? Are steeled, angry wolf eyes glowing an intense punch of blue that startles the group and makes everyone take a step back, “I will rip your testicles off,” and there’s a pause, a long beat before Jedi sneers, echoing Dean, “Bitch.” Her claws are out, and that’s werewolf speak for ‘put up or shut up’.

Except, no one’s listening to that warning. Definitely not heeding it because everyone in the room packing heat has their weapon out, sight trained on the new girl.

        Sam reaches out to gently touch the back of Faith’s arm like it might calm her down, gun still aimed in the other. He’s about to say something that’ll probably make this a thousand times worse, when Ric pushes through the group and gets between Dean’s gun and Jedi. He puts his hands up, reality suddenly dawning on him and forcing him to realize that Dean might actually shoot him. As if on cue, Damon slithers in between Ric and Dean with a smirk on his face that’s begging his least favorite Winchester to give him a reason to vamp out. Alaric sighs, rests his hand on Damon’s shoulder in hopes of calming the situation, and addresses the crowd, “Okay! Okay, everybody just calm down. She came to us for help. We’ve got food and we’ve got rooms. If someone pulls their trigger, this won’t end well. No one needs to die tonight.”

                  It’s tense, though. The standoff drags on for another long few seconds until Dean grunts and lowers his gun, a cue for the rest of the group to do the same. Alaric’s clearly relieved, lets out a breath he’d been holding in as Dean stalks off, angrily exiting the room and hell bound for the kitchen.

              While the room cools down, Willow tries to smile at Xander, “Well, at least nobody got shot this time? I mean, that’s progress?

@jedicollins @professional-brat @strangeandoffputting @samattheend @choosingtogodownswinging @thatslayer @ricsidiotbestfriend @allroundlostcause @iwannadogirlystuff @unicornsrequired @optimisticyellowcrayon

[savinscripts]

❝ Love is the biggest gamble of your life. ❞

The casino was massive. Built directly on the cliffs that made up one side of the private island, it faced out into the sea. The sun was just set, flaming the horizon with the soft colors of twilight. The lights of the casino lit up the night sky in contrasting shades of bright iridescent color that shifted through the spectrum as they swayed lazily back and forth. A sparkling fountain put on an equally impressive show out front, where marble mermaids beckoned casino patrons to toss in coins for good luck.

It was a sensory overload, yet remained elegant despite all the glitz. So to say Faye was impressed was an understatement. “You didn’t tell me it was this big,” she said, leaning towards Fane as they walked arm in arm towards the entrance. Faye slipped her hand in his pocket and pulled out a silver piece, tossing it to the mermaid that was making eyes at them as they circled the fountain towards the entrance. She blew them a kiss, and turned to the next patron.

Faye only smiled, and leaned her head back against Fane’s shoulder. They were dressed to the nines. Black tie was the theme for the evening. Faye wore a floor-length gown, split full up to her hip on one side. Stilettos gave her another couple of inches, but she still barely came to Fane’s shoulder. Her hair was up in a loose, elegant twist. Sparkling hairpins held it in place. A small bit of jewelry hung from ears and sparked at her wrist, but otherwise she was unadorned.

Fane had his own decoration (though Faye’s favorite bit wasn’t readily apparent). Not that he needed any help, as he already cut an impressive and striking figure. He drew eyes from all around the venue as they approached. They both did. Faye grinned. “How’re you doing, love?” she whispered. “So many beautiful bodies already undressing you. I’d be surprised if we got through one round of cards before someone asks to take you home.”

This past week on the island had been better then Faye could have ever dreamed. She was fast coming to wish they’d done this sooner. And even if they only had a couple of weeks left here, Faye was going to make sure that she and Fane got the most out of this vacation. Because the real world was waiting back in London. A murderer was still out there. And Faye had to catch them. Before they killed again. They may already have. There was no way of contacting either her or Fane here. They’d made sure of it. It was part of their deal to forget about the outside for awhile. So while the thoughts lingered in the back of Faye’s mind, they didn’t push forward enough to take over what was happening right now.

Waking up that morning with his choice of-- gift, to put his present adornment from his beloved was an experience and quite frankly not a comfortable one at all. Considering the fact he’d been rather rudely awoken during the night and left awake in discomfort while waiting for the pain of the contraption to send his typical morning wood into fast retreat. Several times throughout the the day he’d been forced to endure the discomfort in a similar fashion, no doubt a deliberate choice on Faye’s behalf but it had admittedly left him feeling just a fraction more on edge than he might have otherwise.

A full day, at least for him and his typical drive after all, felt like a goddamn eternity and a painful one at that. And the other thing was, there was no way for him to personally remove it, magic imbued into the contraption meaning only with Faye’s permission and wish would it offer him any relief. Thankfully no padlocks meant he didn’t rattle like the tin-can man from those Oz movies when he walked, and several times throughout the length of the day they had both caught others taking the time to admire the enhanced bulge the contraption also resulted being displayed rather prominently through the tighter material of his shorts and trousers. Well-endowed indeed but bloody uncomfortable and honestly very, very frustrated. Just as much when she’d stepped out in that dress that had once again, left him sat on the bed rearranging his trousers and grimacing at the latent rolling boil he felt deep in his belly. More than once he’d thrown the odd barbed name or comment at her, and while some might think he was genuinely pissed it was quite the opposite. Nuances to their relationship that only she could decipher and she knew, after all, that if he truly had issue he would tell her such.

“Of course it’s big, everything on this island is big, me included ” he murmured as they walked at a lazy pace towards the casino. But her teasing reminder of what might come from tonight caused him to huff, “well enough I guess,” he grumbled just a little but it softened when he saw the happiness glimmering in her gaze. “Well, they’ll have to ask you whether they can take me home-- not much I can do myself tonight after all.” With the mermaid appeased they trailed on, his hand sitting low on the curve of her hip deliberate so that when the fancy took him he could touch her how he pleased. Not that anyone on this island would care, except perhaps to watch him do so. He already had in mind the things he wanted to do to her tonight once his freedom was returned.

Faye would never do something that Fane hadn’t agreed to fully. And he had. In exchange for something. What that was remained to be seen, but Faye had agreed to it readily. She trusted him implicitly. As he did her. Hence the cage she’d magicked around his cock earlier in the day. Pain was part of pleasure, and could enhance the experience if one knew what they were doing. And Faye knew exactly what she was doing. It was a slow torture, but one that would be worth it in the end.

His rising mood only told her it was working. The sharp barbs he tossed at her evidence of that. Faye knew what they were, and a sly grin slid across her face as she’d watch him fidget uncomfortably. Though if he’d really wanted out, or was in true pain, or uncomfortable - psychologically - then she would cancel the charm instantly. He only had to say the word. But he hadn’t yet, despite some of the filthy things he’d said to her. Which in turn - though she’d become slightly better at hiding it - was pushing her willpower to it’s limits. Hearing him say such things fueled her own fire, which is why she chose to wear nothing beneath the flimsy bit of material that called itself a dress. She was hoping to push him a bit further tonight, which is why she’d chosen such an outfit in the first place.

“That you are,” she smiled lazily at him. Faye looked around. She wasn’t used to so much glamour in one place. Her job was not glamorous in any way. Some people thought it was. That being an auror came with fame and notoriety. And it did. If you caught the big bad. If you saved the kidnapped child. Stopped the wizard or witch that had gone on a murdering spree. Then you were the hero. But fail… and you were looked at with disdain. With hatred. Why couldn’t you save them? Why didn’t you act faster? Why didn’t you do this instead of that?? It was a duality that a lot couldn’t handle. But Faye had long since stopped caring what the public thought. She did her job, did it well, and left the hero status to others. To people like her fellow Auror, Harry Potter. Who, in truth, didn’t care for any of the fame or glory or anything else that came with being who he was, even now. But had grown used to the fact that it was part of his life, and always would be. So he used it to his advantage. It was a smart move, in Faye’s opinion. Use what was given to you. And while Potter might get sent on a lot of high profile cases, so did Faye. But Faye’s job was dark alleys, abandoned drug dens, and following cold trails that led nowhere. It was long hours, sweaty clothes, lots of coffee, and more paperwork than her desk could reasonably hold. It was nightmares and dead bodies and messages scrawled in blood. Leading, taunting… always taunting.

So the glam was welcome. Faye thought Fane might be proud of her even, for finally giving in to her indulgent side. For letting him spoil her a bit. Without a single protest, as promised. It made him happy, deliriously so, and that made Faye happy.

She grinned again at his comment, enjoying the feel of his hand at her hip. Again, she spoke low so that only he could hear. “If you’re good, just tell me which one you want, and they’re yours, hm? Providing they’re interested.” Which they both knew was highly likely. Fane was… well, Fane. And she wasn’t half bad herself. Though they weren’t everyone’s cup of tea, and that was fine. There were certainly plenty of options walking around.

“What should we do first? Find alcohol? Then pick a game? I’m shit for cards,” she grinned, “so that’ll be up to you. But anything else and I’ll give it a go.”

He was more than happy to let her take the time she wanted to admire the island, whether it was the beautiful vistas or the ornate and intricate attention to detail of the buildings here. They walked past a fountain, magic lights dancing and creating illusions behind the rushing water as it bounced across rock formations all trickling down into pools and streams that would run off into the crystal blue waters of the ocean. One they’d spent many an afternoon going swimming and lounging on the beach nearby. He’d promised that she would be relaxed from this trip, and she had in turn promised not to complain if he decided to lavish her with gifts and treats. She deserved it, she deserved so much and he wanted to give her everything he could and more. Anything that was his was hers and he wanted to see her just, well, be. Happy, free, indulgent in the things she wanted.

There was no talk of work here, no discussion of what they had left behind. To bring that up was just the allowance for entering a rabbit hole that didn’t need to be descended into. Not right now at least. So Fane was happy to leave that topic far, far by the wayside and plus there was plenty to provide distraction from those things.

“Why wouldn’t they be interested?” he chuffed softly giving her hip a little squeeze knowing that although she had glamoured them her scars were still sensitive to the touch and partly why he enjoyed stroking or occasionally being cautiously tactile with them and her. “Maybe we’ll see Damien tonight,” he commented idly leaning in to press a kiss to her head always inclined to press affections onto her whether they were touches or kisses he’d grown inclined to be overly tactile lately considering there was no reason to hide them unlike back at home. No danger here to do what he wanted.

“You’re shit at gambling period,” he murmured into her ear lightly bumping her affectionately. “Let’s get a drink, what are you in the mood for tonight babygirl?”

“Maybe you’re not to everyone’s taste, that’s all,” she teased. For the most part, though, Faye knew his question was valid. Most people he found himself having an interest in found it hard to turn away from him. Faye had watched it happen for the entire trip. And before. There was just something about him that drew people in. And Faye was content to watch it happen. She knew where they stood with each other. So she wasn’t jealous, or worried someone would steal him away. If anything, strangely enough, such things seemed to bring them closer.

She hummed as he stroked her hip, enjoying the feeling immensely. “Perhaps. You rather enjoyed him last time.” Fane’s old friend had only come around that one night, but what a night it had been. Faye had enjoyed him too, so they would simply see where the night led.

His touches were encouraged. She always wanted them, always needed to feel him against her or touching her in some way. But back home it was dangerous for them right now. They kept their personal life to themselves, unless they went out to the muggle city away from any potential wizarding eyes. Or far less of them at least. One day she would hold his hand in public, kiss him on the street for all to see. But only when she was certain it was safe. Until then, they would do what needed doing.

But right now they were here. And fun waited for them as they moved inside. Faye laughed. “I am not!” But she was. Her poker face was good, her job giving her that much. But anything else was just… almost sad. She bumped him back, trying to look offended but not managing it very well. “Something sweet with lots of alcohol in it. And then…” Faye looked around the room, though it was so large she was certain it had to go on for miles. “Sit a hand at cards? Or the roulette wheel?”

His thumb rubbed arcs into her hip through the tight material of the fabric, his touch feather-light and just deliberate enough to be just the other side of satisfactory. “You rather enjoyed him too if I recall, all tied up like you were” he reminded her with a slanted grin appearing on his lips. His fingers continued to linger, brushing and rubbing as they moved but always keeping her pressed in close proximity was always something he would enjoy from her. How could he not? She was a beautiful woman who deserved to be absolutely adored and appreciated as such.

A low chuckle sounded from him as she tried to dispute her miserable attempts at playing cards and he jostled her playfully as they entered into the casino that stretched on as far as the eye could see. All sorts of witches and wizards were around, all dressed to the nines and already the pair were catching a few eyes “how about a raspberry cosmopolitan? Unless you want a classic cocktail?” he suggested as he steered them over towards the bar ordering a manhattan for himself and whatever drink Faye decided on for the night leaning on the bar but staying in contact with Faye while the bartender mixed their drinks.

“Whatever you fancy,” he said looking around the room himself. They had every game from around the globe here for any such inclinations. “I’ll need to get some cash converted.”

“Willing to abandon a beautiful lady so soon?” a smooth caramel rich voice piped up from behind them and Fane turned his expression morphing into a grin as he found Damien dressed up in a slick deep red tux. “Tut tut, and there was me thinking that maybe you were a gentleman.”

“That sounds good.” She hadn’t had a Cosmo in a while. And Faye liked anything sweet, especially if it would give her a relaxed buzz if she drank enough of it. Her eyes scanned the interior of the casino, the sleek lines, the deep, bold colors, the lights… the beautiful people mingling and drinking and losing ridiculous amounts of money. It was like they were in a different world. And she supposed they were. A world all their own. A private playground to do with as they wished. That bent to their every whim.

Enjoying the quiet contact while she watched the bar elf mix their drinks, Faye contemplated what to do first. Fane was a good card player, and not afraid to bluff. They played sometimes, and he always beat her. But she supposed this was much bigger stakes than their wagers on where to eat dinner. She was just taking her drink from the elf, nodding her thanks, when a familiar voice followed Fane’s. Faye turned, handing Fane his own drink, and smiled at Damien’s strikingly clad figure. “He is a gentleman. Never leaves a lady hanging.” She eyed him up and down, leaning her shoulder against Fane’s and wondering how quickly his comfort zone was going to be breached now that the other wizard had shown up. “You’re looking dashing tonight,” she told Damien, grinning. . “Have you lost any money yet?”

While Fane took care of the drinks, charging them to the room tab he’d opened at the start of their vacation here he let Faye look around and take in the atmosphere. All around goblins and elves wandered, better treated here than in almost any other wizarding resort or establishment around the world and though it didn’t mean there wasn’t sometimes trouble for the most part the staff seemed content to work and serve their clientele. All around diamonds and magic glinted while glasses clinked, chips and cards were dealt and fates altered.

Cards were some of Fane’s favourite things to do when out, a balance of masterful acting and charm to con-- well, convince people to folding or bluffing them into a controllable position. Never play the cards, play the person. That was the aim of the game and though he’d tried to teach Faye it wasn’t so easy to teach that particular brand of skillset. No doubt she could manage it with time, but even so.

At the sound of a familiar voice he turned smiling cheerfully at his friend though setting eyes on him in that choice of suit resulted in a naturally interested brow and Fane was reminded by the discomfort that he struggled to conceal about the fact that his interested tonight was limited to Faye’s permission alone. Discretely shifting his weight to try and find some sort of comfortable position Fane handed over her drink “her on the other hand?” he offered for good measure “bloody conniving minx.”

Damien preened under the compliments Faye had to offer, “you cut quite the ravishing figure yourself love... “ though he looked quizzically over at Fane “and something’s made you mister grumpy pants tonight… Lighten up, have a drink or four.” Though he laughed at Faye’s question, “of course I have, who hasn’t? That’s part of the fun.”

Faye was content to stand at Fane’s side and be his good luck charm if he wanted. It would be interesting to see how he fared tonight, all things considered. Cards sometimes put him in a bit of a mood, depending on how the hands played. Though Faye had no doubt that he would win at least a few rounds. Faye like games of chance better. Roulette, Craps, Blackjack sometimes. And there were many more wizarding games that had much more interesting prizes besides cash or coin. They would come to that though.

For the time being, she had two handsome men all to herself. “You love me,” she whispered to Fane as she handed over his drink. She smiled at Damien around the rim of her glass. The drink was quite good, and Faye took a long sip before replying. “Thank you.” Though she saw Fane’s squirming, and since she was a merciful bloody conniving minx, she let him have a bit of breathing room, as it were. Not much, but a roll of her fingers expanded his confinement enough to take the edge off. For now. Damien was, after all, a friend. Later, perhaps, if the timing and the mood was right, Faye would let him in on her… secret. But the control was all hers. And would remain that way for tonight.

“You men and your money,” she said, shaking her head. But it was in good humor. When everyone had had a drink or two, chatting about the last couple of days, and what they were interested in for tonight, they moved away from the bar and mingled with the crowd.

Damien hung close to Fane’s left side, Faye on his right. The other man’s gaze took in the crowd at the high roller’s table, located on a raised dias near the center of this section of the casino. “See that man there,” he said to Fane, quietly from behind his raised glass. “The one with the gloves on?” He waited until Fane nodded before continuing. “Name’s Alexie Sokolov. Russian chap. Best card player on the island. Wears gloves because he thinks it’s unlucky to touch the cards with his hands.” Damien shook his head. “He comes once a year, spends millions, wins even more than that, then just… leaves. And no one hears from him again until the next time.” He glanced sideways at Fane. “No one’s ever beat him.”

Faye had heard the entirety of the conversation, and had already started to analyze what Damien was saying. Even though she tried not to, a bit of her Auror training came out. “Is it the same gloves every time?” she asked quietly. Meaning, did he cheat?

“Debatable,” he groused quietly in response to Faye’s light needling though of course they both knew she was right in her assumption. Granted, he was allowed a modicum of relief from the device she’d brought into play tonight and he almost, almost sighed as a little of the pressure eased off. Instead, taking a long pull of his own drink. He’d need it.

“Yes, our money buying you nice fancy things,” Fane commented leaning in to buss her cheek his arm slipping around her waist as they all settled into the mood of the night and crowds present. However, what happened next had Fane’s full attention and his brow cocked as he watched the confident grace with which their subject moved. Calculated perhaps, to instil a sense of unease in other players who no doubt knew who they were playing against. “Superstitious shmuck,” he remarked with a roll of his eyes.

“May be, but it’s worked so far for him,” this, earned a roll of Fane’s eyes and a huff in response as he eyed the man in gloves. He was nothing special to look at, not really. But what Damien said next had his eyes narrowing in a thoughtful fashion.

“Never been beaten?” well, if that wasn’t a proposition if he’d heard one. Faye asked her own question and it stoked him all the more to go over there himself. “Do you know the buy in.”

“Couple of thousands probably,” though Faye’s question was simply met with a slight look that was neither confirmation or denial to what she’d asked.

“Well…” Fane had a glint in his eyes, “why don’t we test his track record?”

Faye did know, so she only chuckled and kissed his shoulder. It turned to a hum of approval as he kissed her cheek a moment later. “The only pretty thing I need is you, love,” she said as they started to thread their way through the crowd.

She could feel the moment his attentions turned to the high rollers. His demeanor changed, but not so much as to draw attention from anyone watching. But Faye could tell, pressed so close as she was. And the moment the words left Damien’s mouth, that no one had ever beaten the Russian player, Faye knew Fane was hooked.

Because there was nothing Fane liked more than a challenge. And the gloved man and his unbroken streak - not to mention the millions of dollars ready to be won - was just that. “You’ve done it now,” Faye said sotto voice to Damien, who stood on the other side of Fane.

Damien only laughed and shrugged. “What can I say? Someone needs to beat the bastard, and who better? I lost money last year - a lot of money - betting against him. I need to win it back.”

“Ah, so you’re only using him for financial gain,” Faye teased. She glanced at Fane as he commented on the man’s use of gloves. “Maybe he is. I’d bet he’s a cheat though. No one’s that good. Well, except for you, love.” Her hip bumped Fane’s.

Damien named the buy in price. Faye knew that Fane wouldn’t have cared if it was ten times that. He was in. She only raised an eyebrow at Damien’s glance, ready as the other man was to see Fane leave the Russian in the proverbial dust.

“After you,” Damien said. He motioned that Faye and Fane should precede him towards the dias. They approached, Faye holding lightly to Fane’s arm and doing her best to look uninterested in the conversation as Fane spoke with the large, suited man taking buy ins. She sipped her drink, yawned a bit, and waved at someone in the crowd that didn’t exist. Though she listened intently to every word.

The buy in was exactly four thousand pounds. There were two spots left in the next game, once the current one was over. It was down to the Russian and two others. The man directed them to where the monetary exchange was made and Fane was handed a gold coin that saved his slot for the game.

“That looks fancy,” Faye said, glancing down at the little token.

There was no helping his intrigue, taking money from wealthy suspected criminals to line his own pockets for his own exploits? Not to mention doing it in such a fashion as a game of chance and skill like cards? How couldn’t he be enticed? Fane licked his lips eyeing the group with evident interest and a honed gaze, studying their movements with a thoughtful gaze.

“He uses me for more than that,” Fane off-handedly commented in response to Damien’s remarks “and if I win him his money back well,” his gaze finally left the table to look aside at him “I guess he’ll just owe me several times over won’t he?” Discussing the buy in was no major skin off his back, and once the fee was agreed and exchanged Fane spun the gold token between his index finger and thumb flicking it in lazy circles as he stood by watching the present game.

“All part of the game,” Fane explained picking up a canapé from a passing waitress and popping it into his mouth and chewing on it seeming rather non-plussed at the fact that the pot being dealt on the current table was about three hundred and fifty thousand total and climbing. It wouldn’t be the first or the last he’d have through the night, the casino’s extremely generous helpings of alcohol and food just enticing players to stay here even longer. “Now, I’m going to go and get some chips, I’ll be back in a little bit love” his fingers lingered on her elbow for a moment as he brushed affectionately by her though he knew she might have to give him a little more leeway during the course of his bout here in terms of easing off on the distraction she had control over. If he was going to win he needed to be able to focus.

“What do you think his chances are?” Damien asked watching Fane speaking with the cashier and exchanging a wad of notes for a stockpile of differently coloured chips keeping them to hand as he made his way back.

Damien could only raise his glass to Fane’s comment, turning back a healthy swallow as he grinned. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of… arrangement.” He watched his friend make fairly quick work of the buy in, standing by Faye as he walked off.

Faye watched too, and when Fane came back, she looked at the small token with interest. “Seems like the crowd is dwindling,” she commented on the group at the table as Fane snagged a bit of passing food. There was enough floating around that she would get some in a bit. Right now she was more interested in the card game, even though it was more in reading the players than the actual game itself. The amount of money was obscene, and Faye shook her head slightly. That was a decade’s salary for her. Probably more. But she didn’t comment. It would be nice to see someone else take home the money. Someone besides the man who was slowly driving away any and all competition.

It would come down to one or two players, Faye knew. Not losing was as much a matter of pride as it was chance and skill. Though the men - and one woman - left at the table all appeared to be sweating. The Russian barely looked invested. Faye watched him over the rim of her glass. Either his poker face was second to none, or something else was going on. She opted for the first, seeing as how the casino was charmed against any sort of magical cheating. Other magic, such as Faye’s glamours over her scars, were unaffected, being unimportant in the grand scheme of things.

Faye hummed in acknowledgement of Fane’s brush to her arm, watching him as he moved off to gather his chips for the game. She would certainly give him leeway for the game. Probably vanishing the distraction completely for the duration. She wanted to see him win as much as anyone. Damien included. Faye glanced aside at the other man as he spoke.

“I think if anyone can take him out, it’ll be Fane.” Her eyes fell back to where he made his way through the crowd again. “He hates to lose. At anything.”

“This is true,” Damien agreed. “All settled?” he asked Fane as he came back over.

The amount of money on the table was obscene, but hardly the most he’d ever observed in a game. He’d seen games where millions were the average on hand at a poker game. This, was barely anything in comparison to those. So he stood by, fingering the chips idly as the game progressed until it was the Russian with his almost indisputable poker face and one final player who looked just about ready to pass out from uncertainty. A testament to his foe’s nerves or something else entirely, Fane couldn’t quite say.

The game ended as all expected it to, with the Russian scooping the pot and then some while the other man departed. For a moment, Fane lingered studying his opponent with a schooled and thoughtful eye sussing out what might be his tell if any. It was an art in itself, and one Fane had grown rather apt at over the years. Finally, with the Russian stacking up his chips the dealer, a rather attractive young woman with dark features and a honey-sweet smile invited any other players to the table. No one seemed keen to be first, and so after pressing a lingering kiss to Faye’s cheek “wish me luck love,” Fane slid away.

Departing from Damien and Faye’s side he settled into a seat, adjusting himself slightly though a private conversation passed with looks between himself and Faye until he felt his earlier confinement ease off until he could settle comfortably. Setting his chips down in colour-coded order before slipping the silver disk across to the dealer whose name now that he could see her badge was Catarina.

Now that someone seemingly had the balls to take the offer of a match, more players gravitating around the table took their seats and set their chips out. And not very much time later the cards were being dealt and the game on. Fane’s features throughout were nigh unreadable, save for the easy confident posture he maintained. His hand was decent enough on the opening round, but nothing spectacular and though he made it to the last few stages of the river was called when the hands were revealed. The routine continued, Fane’s features analysing the board with laser-like accuracy and a couple more rounds going in the following order: loss, loss, small win, loss, slightly larger win and so on. Until it was only him and his opponent left, each having cleaned a lot of the other players at the table out. But Fane’s attention was on the stacks of credits still in front of the man who didn’t look all too pleased at having someone willing to challenge his games.

Where most might’ve been sweating under the losses, Fane took them in stride, barely reacting or acknowledging as the chips were dealt back and forth back and forth between them. Fane had won a couple of games against him, something that had drawn a sizeable crowd to watch the game and where most might’ve been satisfied by beating the supposed top player in the casino. Fane was insistent on one fact. That being taking everything this man was worth as his own. And so, the hands were dealt out again and the routine game continued.

Faye and Damien found a table to sit at around the periphery of the game. They chatted as they watched, Damien’s arm across the back of her chair, thumb brushing her skin lightly - explaining a bit of the deeper intricacies of the game to Faye. She understood on her own that Fane wasn’t going to blow the Russian out of the water right from the start. He lost more than once, with a decent win here and there. Weeding out the contenders who had lost enough money, and keeping the ones who thought they could at least beat Fane, if not the Russian. It was classic deception, though Faye saw the Russian watching Fane closely - in scattered glances over his hand of cards - as the throng of players thinned.

“Fane’s rattling him,” Faye said, leaning close to Damien so only he could hear her. “He’s looked up six times in the last few minutes. That’s more than the entirety of the last game combined.”

Damien grinned, turning his face closer to Faye’s. “Ten to one that once it’s down to the two of them, Fane puts all in. At some point. It’ll either be a damn good bluff, and the Russian counters, or he has a top hand.”

Faye glanced back at the table, eyes lingering briefly over the lovely woman dealing the game, before moving to Fane. “I have no idea,” she told Damien. “Whatever he does, when he wins, just be ready for it.” Her smile turned wicked as she gave him a nudge and a wink. More drinks were brought round, and Faye bought a pack of cigarettes from the floor girl. She lit one up, offering the pack to Damien just as the only other person at the table folded. Leaving Fane and the Russian.

Fane was coming to learn as the games progressed, the man he was targeting out of the crowd never lost so to speak. He folded when it suited but never let a game go unless it was to a point he could well and truly bluff. The games in which Fane won, the man folded, the ones he lost being the ones the Russian stuck out until cards were called. The chips were drawn in and exchanged more than once. The chips changing hands several times over until each player had amassed a decent total of winnings though none surpassing either Fane or the Russian.

One by one the crowd thinned, people realising either that they stood no chance to win here or that there was perhaps something more going on. Something that they likely didn’t wish to have a part in. Not to say there wasn’t a general crowd joining the table to watch the last two men standing. While Fane was well aware of his opponent’s glances, he didn’t seem to care either way though behind a neutral expression that gave away nothing his mind was working out strategies and deliberations on every single move and action that was taken. There was skill to this game after all, judging from a person’s decision to raise or call on how good their hand was and consequently decide whether they happened to be bluffing or not.

Fane was, of course, biding his time. Even now it was down to just the two of them, the cards were dealt the rounds passed and with fifty-grand in the pot Fane lost causing the crowd to hiss under their collective breath at the fact. The Russian seemed pleased with himself, scooping in the chips and stacking them up.

Of course you couldn’t land the biggest fish around without bait could you? And Fane was happy to stuff the hook full of the lures to get what he wanted in the end.

There was method to Fane’s madness, and where most might have been sweating buckets after losing the sum he had in the last match. He merely glanced at a waitress and ordered another drink in a quietly put request. The blinds were paid, and the game was once again under way. Fane occasionally taking a sip of his drink as he studied the cards on the deck, though in this round something was different about his choice of play style. Where before his choices were careful, calculated, this time he raised where he could pushing and pushing until on one of the Russian’s turns he was left to sit and wait on the other man’s choice of action. A sign that this had not been something he had anticipated, yet where the Russian might typically have folded now he merely stayed.

The pot was at a hundred thousand between the pair of them and Fane sat back into his seat, staring at his opponent while he waited for the next move to come. The river would seal his fate, that much he knew.

Back at their table, Faye gripped Damien’s arm as she watched Fane lose more money than she could make in a year. “Christ…” she muttered to herself. But she trusted that Fane knew what he was doing. He couldn’t wipe the floor with the man. Not if he wanted to win.

“He’ll be fine,” Damien said quietly. “But my arm won’t if you don’t loosen up.” He patted her hand and gave her a smile.

Faye loosened her grip. “Sorry. Just makes me nervous. Guess this is why I’m shit at poker.”

“Could be,” Damien said. “Though you’ve got other talents to make up for it.”

Faye merely glanced aside at him, seeing the smirk on his face. “I do,” was all she said before turning back to the game. It went on, push and pull, win and loss, until finally Fane sat back. Faye looked at the Russian. He’d fallen into a pattern over the course of the game. And Faye had picked it up somewhat. Now he was hesitating. She looked back at Fane. He looked almost bored. Though Faye knew that wasn’t the case. He was either bluffing, or he had something good. It was merely a matter of waiting on the other man to fold, or put his hand down and call Fane’s bluff.

The tension in the air was palpable. Even the dealer looked a bit tense as she watched the two men sit at a near standstill. The Russian watched Fane from under his thick brown. The cards moved slightly between his gloved fingers as she seemed to be deciding. Finally, after an age, he seemed to make up his mind. Perhaps it was arrogance. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps it was underestimating his opponent. Whatever it was, the man laid down his hand.

“We have a four of a kind from Mr. Sokolov. Aces, across the board.” The dealer called out the hand that had been laid down, and there was a collective rumbling among the room. That was a damn good hand.

Faye craned her neck, feeling her cheeks flush as she watched the Russian. “There’s only two hands that beat that,” she said. “If Fane was bluffing…” She took a long pull off her drink as she waited - along with the rest of the room - for Fane to lay down his hand. “Come on, baby… come on, come on, come on…” she muttered.

The Russian simply waited, knowing that he’d called this other man out.

Fane had to pace himself, this was as much a game of patience as it was one of skill and Fane was well aware that he couldn’t simply rush in without a thought. You had to pick and choose your battles and Fane was conscious of every move being made. He was out of hearing distance of Damien and Faye not that he’d looked over at them much during the course of the rounds as they came and went.

He couldn’t afford distraction presently. Though he knew in his observations of his opponent that he was feeling rattled by Fane’s calm confidence and certainty behind his hand. The final round of betting came, and Fane paused looking at his chips, the Russian and the central deck of cards. You couldn’t give your hand away too early or risk spooking your fish to bolt before you could clean them out for everything they were worth. The fact the Russian was still at this point meant he either had a very good hand or was risking it on a bluff. Fingering a couple of chips, Fane knocked back the rest of his drink, set his glass aside and scooped his entire winnings into the middle. All seven million causing the crowd to mutter under their breath shocked by the boldness of the move.

“Mister Savin goes all in,” the young woman gave him a look and Fane half-expected her to think he was mad for doing such a thing against a man notorious for never losing.

Perhaps it was pride, or the egotistical nature that came from too many wins. Fane’s stack of chips was hardly comparable to the nineteen-million the Russian made his throne on. Perhaps it was the temptation to beat someone so thoroughly they never tried something so dumb again in their lives. Who knew the reason why, but Fane sat back and waited. Until the Russian called, and the pot was raised to the sum of their total value.

The hand set down was a very good one, rare to get a four pair on a single game and Fane could understand why people said the man had to cheat to get a hand like that. But the river was made up of an ace of spades and diamonds, followed by a four of hearts, and a jack and ten of spades. The tension in the room was palpable, eyes turning to see whether Fane was sweating but Fane’s expression remained neutral.

Until the moment he flipped his cards doing so in such a fashion that only the top card was visible a Queen of spades. He was sure that he saw several people crane forwards in anticipation of his absolute loss or victory. A smirk crept onto his lips followed by a flick of his wrist to slip the queen aside just enough to reveal a matching King sat beneath.

Stunned silence followed.

The look on the Russian’s face was certainly worth the wait, and Fane was sure he saw veins popping out of the man’s head not to mention his expression seemed a bit bug-eyed. The bystanders looked at the table in disbelief. The odds of it happening were so rare it was next to none.

“And... a royal flush from Mister Savin,” the dealer didn’t look like she quite believed she was saying it. “Twenty-six... million in winnings.”

Fane scooped it in, and rose from his chair looking over at the Russian who had barely moved an inch. “Better luck next time hm?” Fane looked at the dealer then, he wasn’t oblivious to the way Damien had been looking at her earlier “and thank you love, for a wonderful game.” Picking up five grand in chips he flipped them over to her. “And say, if you’d like to join us for drinks later… You would most definitely be welcome.”

“I--” she seemed a bit surprised to be acknowledged in all honesty, but a look between him and the couple approaching from behind him caused her to laugh a little and shake off her surprise. “Sure, this was my last game tonight anyway.”

“Positively wonderful,” Fane grinned scooping the chips into a tray so that he could get it changed into cash while Faye and Damien approached.

When Fane laid down his hand, Faye waited, holding her breath and Damien’s arm tightly. The other man didn’t seem to care. His hand gripped Faye’s thigh in anticipation. And when the dealer called out that Fane had won, Faye and Damien both yelled out loud. They clapped along with the rest of the crowd that had gathered.

“Wait-” Faye said, gripping Damien’s arm again, “did she say… 26 million?”

“I think she did,” Damien said, watching with a gleam in his eyes as Fane paid the dealer for her trouble. “I’d say that’s a fair payout.” He looked at Faye. “You know that’s chump change to a guy like him, right?” He was grinning a bit madly, the adrenaline of the last bit of the game flushing his cheeks beneath the dark complexion. “Come on, let’s go congratulate him.” Damien tugged Faye down into the crowd and they made their way towards Fane.

“I knew you’d wallop him!” Faye said. She leaned up wrapped her arms around Fane’s neck, giving him a sound kiss before stepping back to allow Damien to do the same. Though sans kiss.

“That’s my boy,” he grinned at Fane. A quick look around and he spotted the dealer making her way through the crowds. He leaned in again. “So uh… she’s coming with us? I know you slipped an invite in there, right?”

“If you’re talking about the pretty dealer with the fuckable mouth, of course he invited her. Right baby?” Faye said quietly as they both followed Fane to cash in his earnings. A trio of bodyguards (guarding the money, not Fane) walked in front of and behind them.

Fane didn’t bother to wipe the smug smile off his lips once the hand was called out, gathering the chips into roughly even piles before loading them onto a tray of coloured groups for easy reckoning. The Russian was still staring at him, and most might’ve been unnerved but Fane merely grinned lazily. “You know, if you want to play some other time-- I’d absolutely love to.” He probably shouldn’t dig, but how could he not? A winning streak lost just like that and to a stranger no less.

When Faye and Damien approached Fane was just getting to his feet speaking to a couple of staff that had come to congratulate him on the win, also to inform him that as a high roller they were willing to loan him a million to keep playing during the week if he so wished. A tempting offer and Fane explained that he’d consider it later in the week, a couple of security were moving around just to keep an eye on the chips not that he was too worried.

“Well, you know me,” Fane laughed as his arms slipped naturally around her hugging her close and lifting her off the floor. He practically melted into her kiss, and it took everything in him not to turn her round and prop her on the card table. Something had him figuring the staff wouldn’t appreciate that too much so he settled on holding her tight for now. Eventually, he let her go but not before he gave Damien a hug.

The question about the dealer caused him to glance over his shoulder at the young witch behind them, turning back to Damien to adjust the other man’s tie. Straightening it just before patting his chest when he spoke again “well I saw how you were practically eye-fucking her earlier and you mentioned you lost to the man so call me giving you the opportunity for a drink with her… Compensation hm?”

They made their way across the floor the cashier, Fane carrying the chips on the tray and sliding them under the caged barrier behind which a house-elf dressed smartly in a tux started changing and depositing it into Fane’s account directly rather than giving cash. Once it was all said and done, Fane turned back to the group (now four) grinning lazily. “Well, I say celebratory drinks hm? Ah-- but first introductions, this charming fellow is Damien Girard, the beauty beside me Faye Delacroix and you can call me Fane love” he finished dipping to kiss Catarina’s hand.

“Charmed, name’s Catarina but everyone calls me Cat,” the young woman explained to the group. Though her eyes lingered on Damien just a fraction longer than the rest.

“Careful with that one,” Damien warned with a cheeky little smile.

“Oh don’t worry love, I can handle myself.”

“I like her,” Faye said to Fane, though it was meant to be heard by everyone. “Nice to meet you, Cat.” Faye and Cat shook hands, and once the matter of Fane’s winnings was settled they moved off towards the drinks that Fane had mentioned. Cat and Damien walked a bit ahead of Faye and Fane, chatting quietly. Faye leaned over, her arm wrapped around Fane’s as they moved through the crowd. “I make my own bet with you that Damien and our new friend become very well acquainted before the evenings done.” It wasn’t as if it wasn’t obvious. Cat was already eyeing Damien like he was good enough to eat. She’d looked at Fane the same way, and Faye as well. But it was Damien that had drawn her attention first.

Faye grinned. “Speaking of bets…” A subtle flick of her fingers and the distraction she’d relieved him of earlier returned, though not as tight as before. “I can’t let you have too much leeway now that you made yourself a household around here. You might get a big head.” Her tone was teasing and playful, and she kissed his arm as they followed the other two towards another section of the casino. They passed through an archway, and unlike the brightly lit room of the gambling hall, this bit of the casino ascended up spiraling walkway. The lighting became softer, turning to deep purples and reds and blues. The air was cooler here too.

Faye looked around. She liked the semi-darkness of the walkway. Gave opportunity for a bit of playfulness. Though she kept her hands to herself for now.

“Best drinks in the casino are up here,” Cat said to all of them. “On the house for a VIP like yourself.” She turned a grinned slyly at Fane. “Though be careful with the blue ones. They’re strong.” A small wink in their direction and she turned back to Damien, taking the distraction of darkness to slip her arm through his. Faye could hear Damien’s deep murmur as he leaned over to talk to the other woman.

“Have you ever been up here before?” Faye asked Fane as the path seemed to level out and open up into a large, cavernous space filled with people. The music was less dance music and more a sort of hypnotic background beat. Not unpleasant, just different. They followed Cat to the bar, the colors of the room settling Faye into a more relaxed, almost lazy mood. Not the high-wire adrenaline she’d felt down below. Was it the music? Was it charmed to do such a thing? A glance over at Damien and Cat revealed that the man already had his hand on her waist as they ordered drinks.

It wouldn’t take them long.

Faye turned back to Fane. “Wanna get a blue one?” she grinned. “See if she’s fulla shit?”

With introductions sorted, Fane fell in beside Faye watching as Cat and Damien walked a little distance ahead. “That’s not even a bet worth making, of course they will,” Fane said as he watched the other couple ahead of them. “Only reason he probably roped me into that game is to get him a shot at talking to her, Fane tipped his head slipping his arm around her waist and drawing her close “because he would’ve looked like a fool in front of her if he lost a lot of cash.” Fane had feeling it wasn’t just that, but Fane had seen Damien making eyes at the card-dealer a couple of times in the week when they had been in here. “Plus, I’m an amazing wing-man,” he flashed her a cheshire cat smile; slow and lazy as they walked along.

Fane’s steps faltered as their earlier arrangement was settled into place once more and he had to try and discretely adjust the front of his trousers with his free hand. Not that there truly was any subtle method to do that. “Not the only big thing about me,” Fane couldn’t help the joke, his tone light and full of humour as they left the brightness of the casino and instead replaced it for darker corridors and more electro-beat music. He glanced up at Cat when she spoke, “oh I’m a VIP now, goodness, I do like special treatment,” Fane was, of course, for the most part joking on this topic. He didn’t really give a damn mostly because he always did his own thing anyway, regardless of whether it was the done thing or no.

At Faye’s question Fane let his eyes drift around the cavern “to be fair-- I’m pretty sure most of the time I was on this island I was high off my rocker… So, I don’t think I could tell even if I had been here.” Fane was hardly shy about his dabbling, Faye knew well enough about the unhealthier habits he partook in and while they had been here had shared in plenty of those together. But it was the truth, in all honesty, most of Fane’s last visit was a blur of things he could hardly remember and something he wasn’t sure he did wish to remember anyhow. Stepping into the softer lights, Fane stroked Faye’s hip interested in the feel of the material under his fingers humming contently as they arrived at the bar. “Mm,” he sounded giving a slow dip of his head in answer, “are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me love?” He was teasing of course, “but how could I deny such a tempting proposition? Go on,” Fane looked to the bartender “two of the blue drink thingymajigs, whatever they are.” Leaning his hip on the counter, he looked at her “I want to dance with you after this… I love dancing with you baby.”

“This is true,” Faye grinned. She stroked a hand over the front of his trousers, feeling the smooth ridges of the metal cage surrounding his cock. “Yet you take it so well.” Building him up throughout the night was her goal, and though she had released him for the game earlier - and it had turned out very, very well - their arrangement was back on. The very thought of what she was doing to him, and where it might lead later in the evening, especially considering their new friend, made her belly burn with a low desire. But she wouldn’t rush. They had all night.

Cat just grinned over her shoulder at Fane before turning back to Damien. The entire island was a VIP resort, so having additional privileges could be fun. And Cat had been working here long enough to know some of the secrets that others might not. Though she also wasn’t naive enough to think that someone like Fane - who barely blinked an eye at the millions he’d just won - didn’t already know all of them.

Faye moved up to the bar, leaning against it as Fane’s fingers drifted over her hip. “Mmm. You know… I can see the appeal of some things. The way they just… make you forget your troubles.” Faye certainly wasn’t one to fuel the fire of Fane’s addictions, so to speak, but the things they’d experimented with while on the island had made her feel… amazing. She’d yet to smoke opium with him, but they had time yet. It was safe here at least.

“Maybe,” she said. “You do become a bit of a slut when you’re drunk.” Faye turned towards the bar and watched the woman move to mix up their order. Whatever the liquid was, it was a bright, neon blue. It smoked as it was poured up. But her attentions turned back to Fane, and she pulled him close by a beltloop. “Consider my dance card full then.”

Faye knew well enough exactly what she was doing, and in all honesty Fane didn’t mind a bit. He was happy to settle into playing his part but frankly he didn’t mind one bit about whether he was considered important or not. But the perks, well, Fane did always have a knack for sniffing those out and weaselling his way into places he might not ought to have been. Call it a talent. One that pissed people off just as much as it happened to impress them. Fane rather impressed himself with it too.

“Then can anyone ever blame me for running off to places like this?” Fane asked, though it was more rhetorical because Fane had very much been running when he had been here. Running from things and a life he’d wanted to forget for longer than a while. Unfortunately, memories were a pesky sort of thing that couldn’t just be removed entirely with the use of a drug but it was a decent enough temporary reprieve to give him peace of mind enough to sleep. “That one you had the other day was fun,” Fane said, referencing the serum he’d given her before Damien and he had taken it upon themselves to take her apart between them while she was lax and utterly willing. “Or maybe I’ll use something that makes you utterly desperate.” He’d gotten an utterly pure stash of bits and pieces back at the villa and they’d been toying around with them during their stay. Had Faye wanted to try smoking with him he would’ve let her but it hadn’t come up as of yet.

“Only for you,” Fane leaned down and nipped at her neck “only for you love.” The drinks were served up but Fane was promptly distracted by her when she tugged him in just so. “Not the only thing that’ll be full tonight I think,” his brows waggled in a playful fashion and his voice dripped with amusement as he made his comment. He never could pass up such an opportunity.

“I’m starting to see the appeal,” Faye agreed. Fane knew her near obsessive work ethic better than most. Once she had something in her teeth, it was near impossible to get her to let go of it, even for a little while. And considering the case that was in limbo back home - awaiting the tedious processing of the wands they had come across - it was a testament to their relationship that Fane had agreed to leave. But she had promised. And they’d already lost so much time. So many years wasted for one reason or another. Fane didn’t have to stick with her through all the Ministry bullshit. It wasn’t his job. But he had. He’d been right there through everything. Even as the case had slowly taken over their lives. Such as they were. And Faye recognized that. Which is why she had kept her end of the bargain and fully indulged in this long holiday that they both deserved.

“It was fun,” she agreed. “Maybe I’ll try it on you? See what it does.” Her hands stroked over his side beneath his jacket. He was warm as always, and it was pleasant in the coolness of the bar. Her pulse quickened a bit a the prospect of the opposite. “Does me begging for it make you hard?” Her hand drifted lower, stroking him lightly. “Maybe you should keep this on while I do? Have you begging me in return?”

The drinks arrived, smoking lightly, and she laughed as his breath tickled her neck. “Mmm, and you are good at it too.” Her grin turned devilish, and she pulled him even closer. “Promise?”

“Does that mean I’m corrupting my good little auror, hm?” there was a sing-song lilt to his voice when he said this and his expression was entirely mischievous. If he was honest he was lothe for the day to come where they would have to leave this place, much preferring the idea of staying right here with her and absolutely none of the responsibility they would otherwise have to return to. He couldn’t be blamed for it, it certainly wasn’t Fane’s job and in all honesty with how the Ministry treated him he couldn’t have been blamed for telling them to go and screw themselves (which he had, several times) much to their chagrin. But he stayed, and he stayed for one singular reason, and that was the witch presently at his side. If there was one person he would never leave (not again), it was Faye.

“Tease, would you?” Fane asked in a quiet exhale of air at the thought of her using the drug on him. The stroke of her hand was leaving him feeling just a little overheated but he didn’t let it show instead settling to enjoy the warmth of her beside him. “You don’t need to ask that to know the answer,” of course he knew she was asking because she already knew the answer, the brush of her hand caused him to look over at her. “Granted it doesn’t take much to get my interest let’s be honest-- like you said I’m a slut. Quite proud of that fact really.” It was hardly a secret either, he’d spent too long in indulging in things that physically felt good to distract from the lingering darkness in the recesses of his mind. Some might even go so far as to say he’d become hooked on such physical pleasure to avoid the pain he might otherwise be forced to confront.

“I know, I’ve had a long time to refine my craft.” They were practically flush the booze and smell of her perfume and something that was just so distinctly her overriding his senses as she drew him in and it was all he could do not to-- his mind was in the gutter as his slight wince of discomfort proved. “Well, you’re in charge of that...” Fane remarked licking his lips as he picked up his drink and took a sip, hit with the flavour of something refreshing almost blueberry in flavour. In all honesty this was both a great and horrendous method of torture, the pain of denial only serving to heighten the desire to have what was quite literally forbidden.

“It means… that I’m starting to see the appeal.” There was a hint of teasing in her voice as she repeated herself, because she would (most likely) never admit that he was corrupting her just a little bit. Even though Faye preferred to think of it as ‘broadening her horizons.’ She wasn’t nearly as tight-laced as a lot of her coworkers thought she was. She would do things off the book. Make deals to get what she wanted. Such as with the wands. Sometimes you had to look the other way. Especially if no one was getting hurt. Except the people that deserved it. But like Fane, the prospect of returning to all of that weighed heavily on Faye whenever it crossed her mind. As it was doing more often as the month slowly drew to a close. The sheer amount of things that would need tending when they got back to London was mentally overwhelming. Though all her minor cases had been streamlined to other agents once she’d taken over as Head Auror on the one they were working. It had taken priority. And Faye knew that Fane’s loyalty was only to her. That he didn’t two shits about the Ministry or anyone there. He stayed for her. To help her. And she would never be able to thank him enough, or express how much it meant. When they got back, things would change. There would be work and real life and obligations. Danger and the unknown. People that wanted to hurt them.

Which was why she pushed those thoughts away and focused on the here and now.

“I would if you wanted,” she said. “Having you at my mercy and willing to do anything I said without question…” Her lip found it’s way between her teeth. “It’s makes me wet just thinking about it.” Her teeth flashed white as she grinned at his answer. “You’re the only person in this world I’d ever get on my knees for. Or beg for anything.” Faye was fairly certain that he knew that. She was proud, and pride was her sin if anything was. But for him she would kneel. She would crawl. She would do anything he asked, if only to please him and make him happy. “And I’m proud of you too. Not everyone embraces their inner hedonist quite like you do, love.”

Faye reached for her own drink, a devious smirk on her face. “I am in charge of that aren’t I?” They were standing close, so she let her hip brush against him instead of her hand. Her drink tasted like blueberries as well, but with something a bit like… grape perhaps… mixed in. It was very good. She took another longer sip and turned back to Fane. Behind them, Damien and Cat were bent close together in conversation, but Faye couldn’t hear what they were saying.

“What’s your take on the dealer?” Faye asked Fane around another sip of her drink. “You think she’s down for… fun later?”

“Would it make you happy? Doing that, having that power?” Fane asked in a low voice his eyes widening just a fraction as he spoke his lips hovering by her ear and lightly bumping her temple where he’d leaned in close. She couldn’t see it, but the smile was evident in his voice. “And you’re the one calling me a slut, it’s so easy to get you worked up” Fane nipped at the shell of her ear his breath warm before he drew back. “And you’re the only one in the world that I’d ever let have this much control over me.” It seemed they were each their respective achilles heel, but for Faye he really couldn’t bring himself to care less about the harm she might bring to him if it meant being blessed with a fraction of her time.

Because to her he was worthy. Even if he wasn’t sure he would ever feel like he truly was.

Fane took another sip to mask his inclination to groaning at the pressure, he knew full well what she was doing and it was working. Faye turned and Fane glanced over his shoulder to follow her gaze, his heart was still thumping steadily in time to the lazy sway of the beat that was almost hypnotic. “My take on her? I think our good friend is infatuated,” Fane said in reference to Damien “he’s been making puppy eyes at her all night.” The topic of fun however, that had Fane turning, propping himself casually on the bar. “Love, if there’s one thing anyone on this island is down for… It’s fun. And her? Oh, she’ll certainly be down for it.”

“Just being with you makes me happy,” she said in return, a smile in her own voice. “But would it give me pleasure? To have that power over you? Yes, but only if you gave it to me freely.” In any other situation, Faye would have said no, that she didn’t want to have any sort of power over Fane. They were equals when it came to their personal lives. Each of them giving and taking as the situation required. Neither being jealous or feeling subordinated by the other. It was an equal partnership, and while some may have found it strange, for them it worked. That didn’t mean that they were always on the same page with everything. They argued fiercely sometimes. And didn’t always agree on the outcome. But it got handled. And they got over it. Moved on. Life was too bloody short.

She laughed, low and warm, as he whispered in her ear. The nip sent a rush of goosebumps over her skin, and she leaned against him. “I never deny it,” she said. It was no secret that he could work her into a panting frenzy with just his voice and a few choice words. It was also no secret that of all the people in the world, not one of them would dare try to control Fane Savin. No one that knew him at least. There were some that had tried. There were some that wanted to try (like Roger back home), but no one had the courage to look the man in the eye and call him out. Except for Faye. And perhaps Maya. But they weren’t just anyone.

“Ditto,” she said. Because they were each other weaknesses. Their one and only. Faye had spent her whole adult life working to avenge the death of the boy she’d loved since she was a child. While that same boy had stayed away, missing out on years and years, just to keep her safe. It was a tragic irony really. But they were together now, and Faye wasn’t going to take any of it for granted.

He was her forever. And for some reason, she was his. He loved her above all others, even after so long apart. And she would hold onto that for as long as forever might be. No matter who or what tried to get in their way.

“Damien? Infatuated?” Faye snorted. “Never.” She turned as well, leaning into his side as he posted against the bar. “You make puppy eyes at me,” Faye teased him, slipping an arm around his waist. “Let the man dote on her.” Faye hummed as Fane confirmed what she herself was thinking. That an employee of the casino would know where the best fun was to be had. As if they had heard Fane and Faye talking, Damien turned to find them and waved a hand, gesturing that they should follow. Cat was pulling him towards another section of the room.

“Looks like she might’ve already found something.” Faye tossed back the rest of her drink, already feeling muzzy-headed. She took Fane’s hand, though when her skin touched his it flared brightly, sending waves of color along his palm. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Faye blinked. “Did you see that?” Still pulling him along, walking backwards as she stared at their joined hands where color pulsed and faded and ran together with their pulses. “Am I hallucinating?” she grinned. If she was, it was the drink that done it.

There was a soft thump coming from where Cat and Damien had disappeared. A hallway that faded from the deep blue lights of the bar to deep purples and reds. Stone walls glittered, reflecting the lighting back on the guests. Faye saw ripples of color as she drug her fingers over the roughness of the rock. “Do you see that…” she murmured to herself.

Up ahead, Cat turned with a knowing grin, her arm looped through Damien’s. “Your friends tried the blue drink. I think it’s working,” she grinned up at him.

Damien, who was utterly taken with the witch, smiled back. “Then this should be fun, shouldn’t it? If anyone can down a hallucinogen and make the best of it, that man can.” He glanced back at Fane where he trailed along at Faye’s side. “They never disappoint. Promise.”

Cat grinned and they moved on through into the club. Bodies writhed in a huge central dance floor, long and rectangular and lowered two or three steps down into the stone to keep the masses contained. A large section to the right was the bar. Flooded with purple and blue orbs of light that kept changing shades as people came and went, the wall behind was filled with rows upon rows of bottles that reached up into the dark recesses of the ceiling. Chandeliers, brightly lit with multicolored forever burning candles, threw shadows onto the stone. Their flickering flames contrasted with the bright colors, but it somehow worked. Wax dripped down here and there, pooling on purposefully placed diases. Some held candles that were slowly rising towards the ceiling as wax constantly dripped. Others held bodies. Men and women that caught the wax on their skin, decorating themselves and watching others do the same.

Faye found herself unable to look away from the way the wax catchers hissed and arched away from the sting as the hot liquid fell onto their skin.

“You can try it, if you like,” Cat said as Faye and Fane caught up with them. “That’s what this place is. A showroom. Of sorts. There, see?” She pointed across the way. There were evenly spaced booths - large, dark, softly-lit spaces with a small stage and comfortable surrounding seats - each featuring a different ‘act.’ One held a woman telling fortunes. Another held a man performing intricate card tricks with a sentient deck of cards that kept snapping at his fingers. And yet another held a pair of contortionists bending their bodies around one another at impossible angles. Booths upon booths of entertainment, all of which Faye couldn’t stop staring at.

“If you want something a bit more exciting, we’ll have to go upstairs,” Cat said. “This is all a bit G-rated for me.” She tipped an eyebrow, and Damien looked at Faye and Fane a bit helpessly as Cat pulled him along up the stairs. “I didn’t come here for card tricks and fortune tellers.”

Faye blinked owlishly, watching them go and leave a trail of soft negative images behind. “I’m…” A grin twisted her face, and she turned her dark eyes on Fane. “...not interested in G-rated. Are you baby?” But she was already pulling him behind Damien and Cat. Up the stairs, down another hallway and through a curtained doorway.

The first thing Faye saw was the body of a woman displayed like an artpiece. Softly backlit, she was tied in intricate Shibari, eyes covered in black silk, with only one foot touching the ground. She was very much alive, as Faye could see her breathing softly as they approached. A man stood nearby in a black suit, watching the passersby carefully. He was also checking in with the woman periodically, to make sure she was still okay. But only when no one was admiring her.

They moved on down the way, stopping to admire a man that was being slowly encased in wax by a lovely woman with bright blue hair and a ring in her nose. The man was clearly aroused, but the woman was ignoring him, concentrating on the patterns of color the hot liquid was leaving on his skin.

“That looks like fun,” Faye said in a slightly dazed voice.

They moved on, admiring each centerpiece of living erotic art as they passed. When they had made their rounds and were deciding what to do next, a waitress came over and presented Fane with a small silver tray upon which lay a small white card, folded in half.

“From the gentleman in Booth 37. I believe he wants to meet you.” She tipped her head at Fane after he took the card, and then disappeared.

Faye frowned at Fane, looking at the mysterious letter. “Who would’ve sent that?” she asked, looking around as she stepped closer to him. Auror instincts flared to life without a second thought. Her wand was on her thigh, a familiar weight within easy reach should she need it. She knew Fane would sense her sudden tension, the subtle tightening of the hand around his waist, even if there were no other outward signs of it.

“He totally is, and if anyone knows what puppy eyes looks like it’s me considering I a hundred percent make them at you,” Fane’s grin was devillish as he wrapped her up in his arms hauling her close enough that he could bury his face against the curve of her neck. He pressed a few kisses to her skin, soft and utterly doting and affectionate. “Oh he wants to do more than that.” Fane had his eyes closed when she took his hand, though when she called his attention to something his eyes opened lazy and hooded from the drink they had both knocked back.

She was pulling him off then, but he blinked a couple of times a slow grin spreading across his features at the colour that radiated beneath their skin. “Maybe so…” his eyes moved from her hands up over her neck the lights serving to heighten the beating pulse and Fane found himself wetting his lips in anticipation as he was dragged further into the private lounge. While Faye explored the drink’s effects, Fane only had eyes for her, at least, he did up until the moment Damien’s commented and Fane could only grin. “Mm, if there’s one thing you’ll have with us love… It’s a bloody good time.”

The space beyond was unlike anything he’d ever seen, even since the last time he was here. Apparently they had done some expanding and renovating not to mention the general revamp this entire place had undergone. Fane’s gaze slowly dragged across the crowd and he felt his pulse thrum in response to the music the urge to drag Faye out under those lights and pull her flush… To feel her as purely as he could get her, loose and limber and entirely his to ravish. His fingers itched to drag her off, biting his lip in anticipation of everything that awaited them here. So many possibilities but before he could even say anything Faye was dragging him up the stairs and he felt his throat and something else tighten. Though this just earned a low grunt of discomfort as he made his way up the stairs a little more stiff than he might normally would have been.The things that lay beyond didn’t serve to help either, and Fane was already getting the idea of the things he could do to-- no, he shouldn’t think on those things. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to endure this enforced chastity considering the amount of times he’d had to deal with the fact he very much wasn’t able to let his body run the normal course in terms of what it very much wanted to show its appreciation to all this display.

“Maybe I could tie you up like that,” he said as they walked on around the display that is until a staff member approached and Fane stared at them for a very long moment, eyes unfocused but nevertheless plucked the paper up regardless. Unfurling it he scanned the contents humming thoughtfully, “apparently I’m owed a drink of congratulations.” There was a symbol on the paper though, one Fane recognised but he folded it up and tucked it into his pocket. “I think I’m just going to see who this is… You three keep browsing, you can tell me if there’s something you’d like to try later then hm?” Fane doubted it would work, but it was worth a try regardless he supposed.

The display was certainly unlike anything Faye had ever seen. Cat and Damien walked a bit ahead of them, whispering close together, much as she and Fane were doing. Faye let them be, her attentions solely on the man with his arm around her waist. She marveled at how well he handled what she was putting him through. As she always did when she pushed his limits. Though tonight was hardly the most torturous thing she’d ever done to him. Far from it. But it would be worth his patience in the end, Faye would make sure of it.

Faye grinned at the thought of him going over her body with such intricate knotwork. She had just leaned up to say something salacious when a woman approached with a letter for Fane. Faye blinked at him, much as he had the letter-bearer, and then again as he tucked away the missive before she could get a decent look at it. Faye looked at Fane, the lights moving under his skin fading ever so slightly as she pushed against the effects of the drink. For a moment, the most subtle of looks passed between them. One that told him to be careful, and that she didn’t like him going off alone to meet some stranger, even if it was safe here. And even if he could take care of himself just fine. But the glassiness returned to her eyes soon enough, and Faye blinked again, giving his waist a squeeze. “Alright.” One more hooded glance and she made her way over to Cat and Damien.

Faye whispered something to Damien, and he looked back at Fane over shoulder, slipping an arm around her waist and giving the other man a subtle tilt of his head. It was less than ten seconds worth of silent conversation before Damien was turning his attentions back to Faye and Cat, and they moved on around the display.

She didn’t ever need to tell him to be careful, he hadn’t survived this long without a certain degree of precaution and necessary measures. Careful calculations of the risks and benefits of entering into certain situations. The message was a surprise but Fane also hardly figured he would leave tonight without talking to his opponent in some degree or another. A polite request in a letter was a rather nice formality in all honesty and part of why Fane was curious to speak with the Russian.

Contacts and connections never hurt to build even on holiday getaways. Fane knew also the questioning look Damien sent him but a small shake of his head, colours flaring over his vision as he did so, told the man it wasn’t something to worry over.

“Take care of my babygirl, hm? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” he called after them grinning lazily as they walked on. Only when they turned the corner did he turn glancing at a booth number before he sauntered to the one in question. Number thirty-seven. A looming body guard stood on a silent vigil outside though Fane was let through after flashing the card. Stepping into the silenced interior to see his opposition from earlier in the night sipping on teal coloured beverage. Fane said nothing but did move to take the seat opposite pulling out a smoke and popping it between his lips, a wave of his fingers lit the end and he inhaled lazily.

“Surprised to hear from you so soon, looking for me to take more of your money hm?” Fane grinned roguishly knowing it was a ballsy statement given how much he had walked off with earlier in the night.

The man sitting in the booth merely smiled back at Fane around the large cigar he was smoking. He set it aside after a moment, exhaling as he watched Fane take the seat across the table. “The list of people who have bested me - at anything - is very short, Mr. Savin. Why wouldn’t I want to meet you?” The way he looked at Fane would have unnerved most men. A calculating, curious look, that was both neutral and yet… so very much not.

“And I’m never looking to have my money leave my possession. But…” He shrugged, as if it were something mundane and innocuous that had been lost, and not millions of dollars. “It happens from time to time.” He picked up the cigar and took another long puff. “So how are you enjoying the island this time? I see you brought a guest. She’s very beautiful.” He tapped the ashes into the tray. “Though some would say bringing an Auror to a place like this is in bad taste.”

There was no threat in the man’s words. Not really. But the conversation within a conversation said, ‘I know who you are. I know who she is. And I’m not the only one.’

Fane’s posture was, by virtue of his position, indolent to say the least; legs splayed lazily and the cigarette hanging from his fingers occasionally being raised to his mouth for a shallow drag before being pulled away and lightly ashed over the tray in the middle of the room. The scent of the cigar was strong, but Fane had spent a lifetime around the stuff to barely even let it faze him anymore. This was just as much a poker match as earlier even if the chips weren’t visibly on the table to count. So being studied, Fane remained nonchalant as ever and waited the Russian out. “Very short hm? So like you then?” it could have been interpreted rudely with how Fane grinned almost sharkishly as smoke in lines from his nostrils directing it away from the man opposite. “Now, while I am rather impressive company, I do suspect there’s more reason to you wishing to see me than simple congratulations being in order.”

The question about the island and his enjoyment of it caused Fane to reach for his drink and take a sip fingers tapping against the glass thoughtfully as he set it down. Was it worthwhile speaking to this man? Though he also seemed to already know who they were. So it was hardly anything new Fane supposed. “I’ve always enjoyed my retreats here-- a place you can do almost anything you want? Why wouldn’t anyone want to come to such a place?”

His direct mention of Faye’s occupation caused Fane to tilt his head, it was his turn to analyse the man sat opposite him. Fane knew a threat when he heard it, but this, as far as he could tell was general curiosity over why she was here. Whether there was an ulterior motivation at work here. “Well I can assure you, I have rather impeccable taste and… I must say she’s no average run of the mill auror. Though that’s a title she left behind when we decided to come here for a while.”

Contrary to Fane’s posture, the Russian sat easily reclined, but legs crossed ankle over knee. Body turned at an angle to Fane’s, one hand holding the cigar, the other gesturing as he spoke. “Very much like me,” the man grinned at Fane’s comment. “Though with that logic, one would assume your own list is a bit longer than most.” The same sort of tone carried the words through the smoke-filled air. But his demeanor changed a bit as Fane got to the point.

“Even now you see through me. I quite like that. Not many - another short list - would speak to me so openly. Which is why I find myself wanting to give you something else tonight.”

He laughed. “Why indeed? A paradise with no consequences. A place where anything you want is possible. Where everything is completely safe. Unlike the outside world.” The comment could have been innocuous, made to mean the world in general, but something in the man’s tone said it wasn’t. That it was far more specific to Fane himself.

Sokolov laughed again, though it was a different laugh. One that said he didn’t quite believe Fane’s claims about his auror companion. “A title, perhaps. But an Auror is always an Auror. No matter how… above-average they may be. The same can be said for many other… titles.” Savin could take that however he liked. Though not being one to play the long game once he’d made up his mind about something, the man leaned forwards. “My point being, Mr. Savin, is that - among other things - I’ve heard a rumor.” He glanced around, as if the booth wasn’t already sound-proofed and spell proof. “A rumor that you’re the new Dark Lord.”

“I never said it was logical, though I probably have a longer list of people who have tried to beat me and found out the hard way that isn’t something that very often happens.” Fane shrugged ever so slightly at the comment about him cutting through the crap, “You’ve seen the beautiful woman that is waiting on my return and I am admittedly very loathe to keep her doing so for too long. I’d rather speak plainly than in riddles.”

Fane’s expression remained neutral, though his eyes lingered on the Russian curious about what he might have to offer. “Part of the reason so many of us retreat here, who wants a reality that’s terrible when you could live in a place where every indulgence is catered for?” Unfortunately, Fane knew that was no option. Faye was too dedicated to her work to truly leave it especially in such a place with so many untethered ends.

“You’d be surprised,” Fane commented with a grin “she really isn’t like any other Auror you’ll have the opportunity to miss, I mean-- what other Auror you know would be in a place like this and not be wound up in trying to shut it down and arrest every person involved hm?” It said a lot about Faye, who she was and what she was willing to do with him and no one else. Fane did run his tongue along his teeth though when the Russian mentioned his rumour, and an icy chill shuddered down his spine “and rumour has it you’re a cheater and a thief,” Fane waved his hand idly “doesn’t mean there’s any truth to it… Do I really look like the sort interested in world domination?”

“Not much surprises me, these days, Mr. Savin, but I’ll take your word for it, hm?” He tapped his cigar again. “And you obviously trust her.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact. Though there was a hint of something else in the words. Still not a question, but more… as if the Russian wizard were trying to make Fane ask a question in return.

A low laugh trickled from the man’s throat as Fane countered him. “Yes. I’ve heard that. It’s the gloves, I know. But if you must know, I wear them to keep myself safe from any… charms or other nonsense some of these players try to slip onto the cards. Not so I can cheat. Though as you know, the cards are protected, just like the rest of the island. All very safe. But I’d prefer not to take chances. And of course, just because I also happen to be a very good judge of other people, and a very good card player, I must be cheating. No one could ever be that skilled at something.”

Sokolov watched the reaction - or mostly lack thereof - that rolled through the other man at the mention of the rumor attached to his own name. “Appearances mean nothing, Mr. Savin. But perspective. Perspective means everything. To me you look like a man that wants to forget the world at large. And the pain its caused you. You have no interest in ruling over anyone. You simply want to be left alone with the few things you still hold dear.” Another small pause, in which Sokolov stared at Fane very intently. “You and I are very similar, Mr Savin. We’ve both been accused - more than once - of being something other than what we are. Simply because of who we are.”

He fell quiet after that, leaning back and puffing his cigar. Waiting to see if there were any other questions to come. Though he felt certain there were. A man like Fane Savin wasn’t going to leave after a few shadowy remarks. He would need more than that. How much more remained to be seen. Though even Sokolov’s well of information had a bottom, loathe as he would be to admit.

If Sokolov was expecting another question from Fane in regards to what he wanted and why he was interested he would be sorely disappointed. Faye wasn’t their present topic of discussion and thus wouldn’t be mentioned unless necessary. Fane was fighting against the effects of the drug which while they were softening everything was something he fought against to try and keep a sharpness that was surprising by most standards. But then this was hardly surprising, Fane had endured far worse over the years than a few hallucinogenic drinks.

“You know I did debate asking you to take them off earlier, just for the shits and giggles of watching everyone else’s faces when you lost” cocky perhaps but it was all in good humour. Fane knew that going into that confrontation at the poker table you had to have a large degree of self-belief to sell the sort of bluffs they were. “Guess we’re both used to people making assumptions about us then,” and it was all Fane had to say on the topic because he knew as well as the man sat opposite him that this place was charmed against fraudsters.

“The question there is whose perspective then,” Fane drilled his fingers lightly against the tabletop passing over Sokolov’s assumptions about what he understood from looking at him. He was right of course, Fane had spent almost the entirety of his adult life running so the real world wouldn’t catch up. Had Faye not found him he very well would have continued along that train of thought and lifestyle until he ended up in some unassuming grave somewhere. Alcohol poisoning or something just as unassuming he supposed. “And because of our interests, considering magic isn’t inherently bad in my opinion… The intent of its user however? Well, I would argue that’s the true evil in this world” Fane fell silent as he took another inhale of smoke, filling his lungs and exhaling it in a small cloud the trails intermingling with the thick scent of tobacco from the cigar in his companion’s mouth.

“So first things first, this is related to the investigation back in London? It’s related to me? Or… these people that think I’m some new-dawn messiah?” Fane was far from an idiot, and it hardly seemed a far stretch to link the pieces considering who had been targeted. Old order members? People who had fought and defended some of the few pieces of goodness in the world? No Death Eaters. Which meant it was some sort of unhinged group of fanatics. “Question is, what do you know about them and more importantly, how?”

“The perspective of someone very dangerous. I don’t have a name, or I would give it to you.” Whether Savin believed him or not was up to the man himself. All Sokolov could do was impart the information. He nodded as Savin added to what the Russian had already said. “As much I agree with you, that it’s not the magic, but the intent, that makes something dark or evil, there are many others who don’t share my opinion. Others who would use those… interests… against you in any way they could.” A small warning, perhaps, to be careful in his pursuits. Sokolov wasn’t privy to the things Fane got up to in his spare time, or the less than popular practices he experimented with. He simply knew that when someone already looked at you like you were a bad person, any little pieces could add fuel to the fire.

“Yes. To everything.” It was all connected. Or so it seemed from what Sokolov had heard. “Your return to London… from the dead, as it were. The continued murders of the Order of the Phoenix. The Morsmordre in the sky over London? The death of that boy, and your role in it, indirect though it may have been. Your partner being the lead investigator on the case already. Who just happens to make you a consultant? A man accused of being a Death Eater since he was a child. A very infamous name, your family’s. Puts you very close to everything. All the inside information you could ever need.”

A cloud of acrid smoke rose into the air as Sokolov exhaled. “I have my sources that keep me abreast of any information that might be useful. I’ve told you all I know. Except…” He leaned forwards again, his eyes focused intently on Fane’s. “They know everything they need to know to hurt you, Mr. Savin. Everything. And everyone.”

“Do you have anything that links to them? Or some way I can try to get more information?” Fane had his own back channels but even then without some sort of name or point of reference it would be hard to truly pinpoint anything in particular. Though the mention of interests… Fane narrowed his eyes a little, the first real reaction garnered since the start of this conversation. Nothing was specifically mentioned, but it didn’t mean that it couldn’t be insinuated and Fane sat back, rubbing his mouth as he fought back a sigh. Of course. A lifetime of being accused of something only to have to return when he’d finally started trying to make a case for his own innocence.

How many more times could he be expected to fight this same battle? Could anyone truly judge him for being bone fucking weary of it? Of a mantle he’d carried since he was eleven and thought he was going mad when he’d nearly broken the sorting hat or heard whispers in his head. Voices that no one else could hear? Voices about cleansing and purifying the school so only those worthy could attend?

Years of a place that was a world away from what he’d experienced at Durmstrang but years that had slowly chipped away the pure innocence of a naive young boy who thought he might stand a chance of proving himself as something other than what his family legacy coloured him to be? Was it any real wonder then why he’d all but faked his death when the opportunity arose? To let the world thing him gone so that if only for a little while he might live a normal life. Anonymous and walk amongst people simply as another one of them.

But that would never be the case. His whole life would be spent running it seemed. The thought caused his heart to sink, and suddenly he didn’t want to stay. Because hearing it laid out in front of him… Fane closed his eyes for a long moment, but the emotions that were clouding him were categorised and put down. “So where should I start? I can’t very well hunt down people who I barely have any leads on can I?” And how could he protect those he cared about if he didn’t know who or what was coming for them? “I’m not running this time…” Fane seemed slightly more resigned but no less determined “but I need something to work from if I’m going to get ahead of this…” Fane’s eyes lifted to Sokolov’s then, steady and intense the drug all but worn off through sheer force of will “is there anything else you can think of that might be able to help me?”

Sokolov set his cigar aside and leaned forwards, steepling his fingers. “All I have is my source. I haven’t sought any information on my own. I only know what I’ve been told. However…” A flick of his hand and a small card appeared, very much like the one Fane had received earlier. “I can give you this.” It was a set of initials and an address. “Memorize it. The card will burn itself once you read it. Give them my name, and they’ll speak with you. Once. So don’t waste it.”

The Russian wizard watched the younger man with what might have been sympathy. He knew Savin’s history, knew his family name and what had happened during the Second War. He’d lost people in those dark years. Perhaps that was also why he was offering what help he could. To prevent another descent into madness. Into the shadow of a maniacal would-be ruler. Not that he believed Savin was that person. But there were people who did. And there was darkness in the younger man. The Death Eaters had seen it years ago. Tried to exploit it. His own family had tried to lull him to the dark. But he’d been stronger than all that. Stronger than the Dark Lord himself, Voldemort.

And that very fact - little known though it was - seemed to be the catalyst. The keystone - that partnered with his chance arrival back from the dead - that had sent Savin’s name spiraling out into the ether. A name that had been snatched and twisted and turned towards a purpose the man himself had no interest in.

“In my experience, the enemy you should fear most is always closer than you think. And it’s not always a person. Seek out the name on the card. If you ask the right questions, they’ll have the answers. Though it may cost you.” He knew what he was saying sounded misleading. But it was really all he knew. If he had had specifics, perhaps he would have given them, but as it was, he didn’t. “The only other thing I can tell you is to trust what you know. Never doubt it. No matter what the truth may seem to be.” It was nothing if not cryptically foreBut shadowing. Sokolov sat back then, taking up his cigar. “I wish you luck, Mr. Savin. You and yours. And I sincerely hope this is not the last time we speak.”

Fane took the proffered card, but didn’t look at it immediately as Sokolov explained what would happen once he did. Instead, he pocketed it for when he wasn’t fuelled up on a drug infused haze. “Do you think you could look into it for me? Or at least put a few feelers out in your network?” Fane knew that Sokolov owed him nothing, but for this Fane was willing to owe a favour himself regardless of how dangerous that was in their line of work.

There was an innate strength him that few had, but it didn’t make it any easier for him to withstand a lifetime of things whispered behind his back. Of looks and accusations to things he’d never been nor would ever be. There was darkness in him, perhaps more than the average person but darkness he tried to wrestle on a daily basis and more often than not managed to overcome. Demons could hardly darken his world when he had people like Faye around to help shine a light to chase that darkness away. Would Fane go mad? Perhaps, perhaps not. He would hardly be the first in his position or family to lose a few screws along the way if that was the way things went.

The warning, cryptic as it was caused Fane to look at the older man long and hard for a moment. He’d spent his life on the run, being accused of so many falsities it seemed that this was all setting up for yet another one to come and Fane wasn’t sure he would be able to do this many times more than he had already. “Right…” Fane said in answer to the given warning, but it seemed there was nothing more to be said of aid and he sighed ashing his cigarette and knocking back the last of his drink. “I suppose that’s yet to be seen…” Fane rose from his perch and a part of him debated leaving, but custom and formality considering the fact this man owed him nothing caused Fane to reach out a hand to shake before adding. “Thank you…”

And with that, Fane left feeling more dazed than he knew what to do with.

Sokolov considered Fane’s question for a moment. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll see what I can find. But only because I like you, Mr. Savin.” A twist of his mouth showed a row of very white teeth. “You remind me very much of myself when I was a young man, if you can believe it.” The owing of a favor went unsaid. It was what it was among those who moved in certain circles. Nothing needed to be said aloud.

He watched Savin consider his last words, and when the younger wizard extended his hand, Sokolov shook it firmly and nodded. “You’re welcome. Best of luck.”

****

Outside, Faye had set her drink aside, not caring to be without her wits anymore tonight. The colors still played over her vision wherever she looked, but the displays and all their erotic beauty did nothing for her. Her mind was elsewhere. Back with Fane. Something didn’t feel right. Though she knew it could have been overthinking on her part. Though Damien seemed as if he was trying just a bit too hard to keep her attention, whereas before he’d been fully focused on Cat. Again, that might simply have been her thoughts running away with her.

Either way, she was entirely distracted from anything other than waiting for Fane to show back up. When he did, his familiar silhouette moving through the deep purples and blues of the room’s lighting, she watched him closely, but didn’t say anything just yet.

“There you are,” Damien called, still with the same jovial tone he’d had all night. “I was thinking you’d forgotten about us. With all your new-found fame.” Cat merely watched the exchange with quiet curiosity, her arm looped through Damien’s.

With the meeting finished, Fane cut through the crowds of people quietly. His eyes not half so dazed as they were when he had departed, but considering what he’d learned it was hardly surprising. He spotted Damien first and then Cat, and Faye not a short distance from them. The sight of them immediately sent a wash of relief through him, not that this was evident but his expression immediately grew brighter as he approached and took a moment to give Damien a hug. “How could I ever forget you all? The most gorgeous people in this place.”

“Straight up we are,” Damien cheersed and took a sip of his drink glancing back at Cat with a playful little smile. “See, told you he’s a fun one.”

“Never doubted you to lie about anything like that doll,” Cat purred as she leaned in and lightly nipped at Damien’s ear causing the man himself to grin brightly.

Fane moved straight over to Faye then where she was sat and naturally sat down beside her, his arm slid around her waist and he pulled her in close. Dipping his head he caught her mouth in a lazy and utterly languid kiss, a silent way of saying thank you for waiting. A promise that he would make it up to her.

Faye did her best to smile along with the others as Fane returned. But as much as the expression passed across her face, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Not that anyone would notice. Fane slipped his arm around her, and she leaned into him, kissing him back just as slowly. Her hand raised to touch his face, and she looked him in the eye when they broke apart.

“I’m not feeling so well,” she told him quietly. “I think I’d like to go back to the room.” It was the first time she’d asked anything of the sort for the entire trip. Faye had been perfectly content to spend their nights trying any and everything that they could. Whatever felt good. Whatever tasted good. Whatever she hadn’t tried before. But right now… right now she just didn’t feel like it.

Fane’s return had eased Damien as well, and he turned to converse quietly with Cat. The two laughed at a private joke, and Damien turned to his friend. “So what’s on the agenda now that you’ve rejoined us?” he asked. “Should we sample something new? Or try one of these for ourselves?” He gestured around at the art gallery.

It was certainly uncommon to say the least for Faye to ask for anything of the sort, and so as she spoke in a soft sotto tone his head tilted. Quizzical and a little unsure what might be the matter. He knew his departure had been a little bit of a surprise but it hadn’t been anything he thought would worry her all that much. Fane’s thumb gently brushed over her chin and then her cheek as he studied her, but a small dip of his head was enough for her to know he’d heard what she’d asked.

Even if he’d been rather looking forward to sharing the evening with the others.

But they had a couple nights more he supposed. They could make up for it another night perhaps.

When Damien inquired about what their plans tonight were Fane’s smile was slightly smaller, seemingly more tired. “I’m feeling a little tired after everything tonight, bit overwhelmed with everything that’s happened… So, I think I’m going to call it an early one tonight...” Damien’s smile faltered a little replaced with a small frown of concern that Fane waved off. “Raincheck, we’ll make up for it I promise you can have some fun with me in any one of these you fancy… Have some fun with your lovely darling I think she deserves your undivided attention.”

Cat glanced between them at the exchange but she smiled, lightly placing a hand on Damien’s chest, “maybe we can try a few out, find out which ones are the best?”

Faye gave a minute shake of her head to Fane’s questioning look, saying that it wasn’t worth discussing here. Fane understood, as she was certain he would, and made his apologies to the others. Faye felt a bit bad for ruining the night, and started to tell him that she could go back to the room and he could stay if he wished. But she didn’t say anything just then. She truly didn’t feel all that well now that she thought about it. Fane’s mysterious meeting had only made the feeling more apparent. But for the time being she blamed it on the drink. Cat had said that not many people could handle it. Perhaps that’s all it was.

Either way, Faye wasn’t sure she could fully enjoy the rest of the night with the swirling feeling in her belly and chest. She caught the look that crossed Damien’s face, but pretended not to notice. Cat seemed to notice too - her observational skills coming in very handy it seemed - and made quick work of distracting her date with more pleasant ideas.

“Well… since you twisted my arm…” he said, the grin returning to his face. Though he gave Fane one more look that said he wasn’t far if Fane or Faye needed anything.

Faye bid the couple goodnight as well, embracing them both before she and Fane headed home.

Once there, she moved off to the bathroom, taking off the gown and taking the time to hang it up before pulling her hair down and wetting a rag with cold water to press over her face. “I’m sorry,” she said out into the bedroom. “If you wanna go back… I’m fine, really.” She wasn’t, but she had to give him the option anyway. Not that he would take it.

Fane would never leave her alone, especially not after what he’d been discussing with Sokolov but neither would he complain about it. So when Damien gave him a look Fane understood fully Fane smiled and brushed Faye’s back before the pair of them started to wander back to the villa. Fane was quiet on the journey, and while he hadn’t been planning on coming back his main concern was Faye.

Explaining why when they stepped into the villa and Faye headed for the bathroom Fane looked over at her, a frown of concern for her apparent on his features. He took a moment to pull off his jacket and hang it up, prior to moving to sit down on the edge of the bed, though grimaced a little in discomfort at the pressure between his legs but he pushed the thought away. Focussing instead on her. “Bull,” he said plainly to her insistence that she was fine “don’t lie to me love. What’s wrong?” He couldn’t stand to sit there, and so a moment later was stood and loosening off his belt.

“Actually-- first-- Can you get this thing off me?” Fane asked regarding the cage he was still wearing because there was no real point in wearing it if there wasn’t to be any sort of reward for the effort he’d gone all day with. Not that he minded, though his frustrations had been notching through the day and some relief would be more than welcome. It also would mean he could focus entirely on her. Once it was gone he sighed, leaving his belt unhooked he leaned on the door “so… are you okay?”

Faye felt slightly guilty about putting him through so much torture all evening and then it not coming to anything. No pun intended. The look on her face as she freed him said that well enough. But it couldn’t be helped for the moment. At least he wasn’t the type - usually - to have petty grievances. Especially when there was a larger issue at hand.

She leaned her hip against the counter, watching him after she’d relieved him of his confinement. She was stood in her underwear and nothing but. Her hair was over her shoulders, covering her chest, and her arms were crossed beneath. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I feel… ill. I think it was the drink.” Faye searched his face, looking for any sign that something had happened while he was away from their group. There was nothing but his usual look of concern for her.

“What did that man want? Really?” Because that was where the unsettling feeling had started. And if it could all be played up to having too much of a hallucinogen, which may or may not have made her slightly paranoid as a side-effect, then so be it. But she needed to hear it from Fane.

Fane said nothing as Faye spelled the device away, there was no need to make a scene or cause a fuss. It was hardly a massive inconvenience in his life and certainly something that was manageable. It would hardly be the first time he’d endured something of the sort so her concerns and offers to make it up were waved off without any thought for himself.

He didn’t bother to conceal how his eyes moved over her in the mirror, undressed as she was Fane would always admire her unabashedly. Why shouldn’t he? She was the love of his life and the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Not to mention she was stunning, but his frown remained and the expression pinched his forehead in a few thin lines along with his eyes as he stepped up behind her. “You feel sick?” he asked moving to wrap his arms around her until his own settled over her hands crossed over her stomach.

Her question was hardly unsurprising or unanticipated. You could take the person out of the role, but not the role out of the person it seemed. “To talk, about our reputations mostly, apparently he doesn’t use the gloves to cheat he uses them to stop jinxes and spells that might be on the cards affecting him-- go figure.” Fane knew he was leaving out details, but if she truly wasn’t feeling well then Fane didn’t want to flatten her with heavy information. It could wait until she was feeling better and they did only have a few days left. A few days wouldn’t hurt.

Faye’s expression softened just a bit as he looked her over. His gaze, directed at her in such a manner, was like a warm blanket; a comfort when she was feeling out of sorts. She didn’t hide from him, as always. And when he came over, wrapping her up, she leaned back into him. “A little,” she said. “I think that drink didn’t settle too well with me is all.”

It was to Faye’s credit that until tonight she hadn’t let anything affect their holiday. Not work, not the outside world, not her occupation. She was here to be with Fane, because they deserved it. Because Fane deserved it. For all the sacrifices he’d made for her. For her job. For the case that was waiting for them when they returned. But tonight she had to speak, feeling unsettled enough to do so. Fane’s answer settled her some, however. He wouldn’t lie to her, she knew. “Huh. I would’ve figured him a cheat,” Faye huffed, leaning her head back on Fane’s shoulder. “But I can admit when I’m wrong.” A small smile moved over her face, and she looked at their reflection in the mirror. Fane’s taller form nearly engulfing her shorter one. His dark features contrasting her lighter ones. They were quite handsome together, she thought. Though she was a bit biased about the man she planned to spend her life with.

Fane would never look on her with anything other than pure and undivided adoration, she deserved nothing less than that in its entirety. So having her wrapped up in his arms, her back pressed to his chest left him feeling secure that at least for now everything was good with the world. His mouth pressed to her head, an open mouth kiss, once, twice, three times before it lingered there. “Then why don’t we get a bath and have an early night?” his hand left where it was wrapped around her midriff to trail up and cup one of her breasts in his palm. Nothing enticing just savouring being able to touch and cradle her close like this.

“Appearances can be deceiving,” he mumbled in her ear smiling as he nuzzled against her affectionately. He met her gaze in the mirror and smiled though it was half hidden by her hair. “I love you, so much.”

Faye’s eyes closed finally as he kissed her head. Fane was always affectionate no matter where they were (other than the places they’d agreed not to be, like the Ministry or in public while working). Faye hated having to impose limits. She hated telling him no. Hated not being able to give him everything and anything he wanted. For that was all she wanted in this world: Fane’s happiness. Her own was irrelevent. Because when he was happy, so was she. He deserved everything. Deserved to stop running, stop looking over his shoulder, stop worrying about who was whispering behind his back.

“That sounds perfect.” She hummed her approval of his caress, threading the fingers of her other hand with the one that remained on her belly. He was warm, and the weight of him against her settled the sick feeling that had risen up earlier. It was mostly gone now, and she laughed a bit as he nuzzled her ear. “They can be,” she said. Her laugh sobered a bit as he spoke again, and she watched him intently in their reflection. “I love you, too. More than anything.”

Fane had been deprived of so much in his lifetime, sometimes it felt like he had to do his best to make up for it. So moments like these, shared with Faye where he could show her his appreciation for everything she was and everything she did were seized without hesitation. He couldn’t ever let one pass him by, and he didn’t want to. Faye deserved everything he could give to her and it was one of the many reasons he was often so frustrated in having to adhere to her rules. Because he wanted to hold her hand in public, wanted to kiss her without the worry of who might be worrying and judging.

Because for as wonderful as things were, as much as he managed their lives back in London that concern was an ever-present constant. Coming to this island had only made him all the more aware of how happy he was to simply be able to live a life with her where there were no worries other than their respective happiness. To appreciate her as fully as he wanted. This was the life he wanted when they went home, wanted normalcy, wanted to settle down, maybe have a family one who - who knows? But how could they ever have that sort of life when they could barely even allow themselves to hold hands in public because of how it might be interpreted. What he wanted and where things seemed to be stuck at seemed like such a world apart Fane was partly resigning himself to the fact that maybe those things were just meant to be dreams.

Faye cared too much for her job to need to be worrying about anything other than that right now, he would make do. He always would. Taking her hand and pulling her over to the large bathtub he started filling it with hot water. After a long soak they both dried off and fell into bed Fane’s arms lazily wrapped around her and cradling her close as they chatted idly and listened to the quietness of the island. Fane lay awake, pondering what might await them and everything he was going to have to do.

The truth was, Faye thought about leaving her job all the time. She’d made it her life for nearly twenty years. Since she was barely out of school. Since she’d thought Fane had died. She had done all of it, become who she was, for him. Because the pain she’d felt when she’d lost him had been nearly too much to bear.

She’d done it all for him, and now… now he was here, warm and real and just as in love with her as she was with him. She’d started along this path because she’d thought he was dead. So now that he was very much alive, now that they wanted to build a life together, why not let it end? Let it end, and let the new chapter of their lives begin? Faye was certain that’s what she wanted. She saw the toll it took on Fane. How he held back because she asked him too. Because it wasn’t safe. Faye wanted more than anything to announce to the world that she was his. That she was his and he was hers. And dare anyone to say otherwise. But they couldn’t. Not yet. Not until this case was done. Not until the danger it posed to them was gone. Because that was Faye’s main concern. That someone would come after them. Come after Fane. Did she want anyone else to get hurt? Did she want anyone else to die? No, of course not. But in the end, if came down to them or Fane? Faye would let the world burn to keep him safe.

Fane wasn’t sure in all honesty how much longer he could keep doing this, but also knew that no matter what that would hold out for as long as it to Faye to say the words herself and not just because he wanted her to. Despite the toll her job took she enjoyed the good she did and impact on the world her work had no matter how small it might be. But what was it all for if she gave her all only to sacrifice her own life, their life together for it? This trip was just an indicator of how much he wanted this, and Fane knew going back to the secrets and deceptions would be harder with the taste of could have been.

[sweetandsavageautistic]

Okay, so I found an article. Thought you might be interested to see a somewhat live reaction to it.

Let’s start with the title: 

Special Needs Children – A Sign from God

This is gonna be fan-fucking-tastic. 

Well, I have lots I could post about today.  But what is on my heart is my need to accept.

A need to accept my son's autism and what comes with it.

Yeah, autism should be accepted. We should be accepted as people. Not too bad so far. 

But then this picture is just below it:

thanks i hate it.

Our son has Asperger's.  That means that he has autism that is “high-functioning”.

Damn, she’s letting a kid smoke the good kush?

I have been reminded by mothers at autism support groups that I should be glad that my little one can talk.  Yes, that is true and I need to be reminded of that.  However, one thing that he does is talk.  All the time.  His mind, and hence his tongue, rarely ever shut off.

“Little one.” I dunno how old this kid is, so idk if I can say it’s condescension yet. 

I will go into more of why I think this is so in a later post, but just suffice it to say that though I like conversation and interacting with my son, constant conversation and repetitive questions can be extremely tiresome.

He is awkward in public, though that has gotten better.

He has high anxiety.  That comes and goes.

He has a problem with attention deficit.  No official diagnosis there, but believe me, he has it.  Whatever it is.

He has questions? WELL NO SHIT! HE’S A FUCKING KID. And later on you say he has attention deficits. So of course the questions can be repetitive.

He has life threatening food allergies, and extreme sensitivity to sugar.  Probable issues with gluten.  Sensory issues.  He has phobias about things like fireworks and feathers.

Oh, but I love him.

Lady, fireworks can get pretty loud, so it’s not irrational for someone who is autistic and likely also has SPD, to be afraid of fireworks. Feathers is an interesting phobia, though, but probably reasonable for him.

He also has an amazing memory.

In 2009, he placed 3rd in a local Bible Bee competition and then in 2010 placed first locally and 27th nationally. He remembers the names of people we met years ago and while I am stumbling over their name, he reminds me.

I mean, yeah, I guess that’s pretty fucking cool for a kid to do. But that’s the thing. There are probably some allistic kids and even neurotypical kids out there with amazing memories as well.

He has such an innocent heart.  Very rarely have I known him to try to do anything to hurt anyone.

He’s a kid. Kids are innocent. Why is that something so special?

He has stamina.  Little things often shake his world, but he can weather “big things” like a real trooper.  Like when he rode 50 miles in a Right To Life Bike-a-Thon — with a fever (we found out about the fever after he came home :-).)

Um, he’s not a “trooper.” That kid’s badass. Riding a bike for 50 miles with a fever would be an impressive feat for almost anyone to accomplish.

Ah, my son.

In any case, today has been a day of real frustration.  A day of frustration at him and his idiosyncrasies, but moreso at myself.  I was so impatient today.

He argued with me about not wanting to eat certain vegetables.  And argued and argued and negotiated…on and on and on.

Uh.............

He had a near tantrum over being late to a hockey practice due to our car getting stuck in the driveway in a snowdrift.  It took about 10 reminders for him to unload the silverware in the dishwasher and then it still wasn't done.  I could go on but there really is no point.

Meltdown. The word you’re looking for is meltdown. not tantrum. There’s a fucking difference.

I was impatient because–well, because he wasn't doing things on my timetable.  His disability gets in my way, takes my time and is an annoyance.  And far too often I go against the command of the Bible and show my annoyance at once (Proverbs 12:16).

I need to remember the good and give thanks to the Lord.  I need to accept.

“His disability gets in my way.” Well, your warrior parent “pity-me” bullshit gets in MY way, and possibly his as well, so call it even.

A number of years ago, a dear friend gave me a poem about accepting disability.  We were on the cusp of getting our son diagnosed, though unwillingly.  We just wanted to know what was going on so that we could deal with it better and have some real resources.

Okay, not TOO bad.

This friend had a 20-some year old daughter with autism at the time.  She was in full-time Christian work in the US with her husband and I later found out that she was struggling with leukemia.  I read a transcript of a conversation she had on a radio broadcast of Family Life during which she mentioned that her child had autism, searched for her on the internet and made a bold phone call.

She called me back and mentored me through the beginning stages of dealing with what we now had in our family; a child with autism.

She called, prayed and shared.

Then this past year, she died.

I had never met Kathy, but her death left a hole in my heart.  She also left this poem, from The Clowns of God by Morris West, Hodder and Stoughton, 1981.  I hope that it helps you, whatever your lot in life.

Still not too bad.

You Need a Sign

Treasure him…

You need a sign. What better one could I give than to make this little one whole and new? I could do it; but I will not. I am the Lord and not a conjuror.

I game this mite a gift I denied to all of you- eternal innocence. To you he looks imperfect, but to Me he is flawless, like the bud that dies unopened or the fledgling that falls from the nest to be devoured by the ants. He will never pervert or destroy the work of My Father's hands.

He is necessary to you. He will evoke the kindness that will keep you human. His infirmity will prompt you to gratitude for your own good fortune. More!

He will remind you every day that I Am who I Am, that My ways are not yours, and that the smallest dust mote whirled in darkest space does not fall out of My hand.

I have chosen you. You have not chosen me. This little one is my sign to you.

I really hope this poem is just about kids in general and not about just disabled kids.

Treasure him…

I don't know about you, but I sure needed this reminder today.

And that’s where the article ends. I’m gonna see if that poem is about disabled people. 

So I found the poem on a blog of a mother with a daughter who has Edwards syndrome aka Trisomy18. This is the comment:

Cathy, Many years ago, I used to become frustrated. I did not understand why God would send a child here to earth with severe disabilities, shorten lifespans, and daily challanges. Then my special needs son came into my life with all the answers.

When God created human life, he did so in his image; loving, accepting, generous, kind and patient. Our children or God's wish for the human race. Uneffected by Satan's trials. They remain ever loving, patient and kind. They are not just a gift to those God entrust them to here on earth. I think they are also a gift he grants to himself. A reminder of what he wanted all along. His own likeness here on earth.

You honor God with the care and love you provide to Annabel. Even more remarkable is that you have rasied Tara to do the same. I love the three of you dearly. God Bless You.

With great admiration Edie

So with that, I think it’s safe to say that the poem IS about disabled people specifically. 

fuck.

[kierongillen]

Writer Notes: The Wicked + the Divine 39

Spoilers, obv.

And we collapse forward on the keyboard and twitch a while. This has been nightmarishly hard. I suspect the last arc will be hard (as nothing in WicDiv is easy) but the things we were juggling here were something else.

Before we dive in, some top-level thinking. The advantage of the way WicDiv is constructed is that we know what we're doing. A friend was just rereading the first arc, and noted how certain elements and approaches simply changed as the tone of the book solidified – while also noting that every direction we did take was there from the off. We knew the What We Were Doing but not always the specific How.

(Not least, as I was a hot mess in 2014. I'm amazed the WicDiv scripts weren't just bahsjasjfaglagsfk.)

But the problem with knowing the direction of the book is you're tied to ideas you may wish you hadn't put in play. Because a five year book is enough time to change significantly in what you consider a good idea or not – and even if you still think it's a good idea in the abstract, it doesn't mean it's an idea you would necessarily want to do any more.

At this point, there's various things flying around. Firstly, Laura has rejected her godhood. That's great. That's clearly the arc of the book. Secondly, Ananke is running her own eternal scheme with its eternal rules. I don't think it's a spoiler to say that Ananke (and I'm using “Ananke” for “Ananke and Minerva” here) is significantly deceiving people on some key matters, and using the holes in their knowledge to her advantage. At this point in the story the same thing happens to her. We see that her own perception is also incomplete.

So – what's the thing she's missing?

I fell upon Maiden/Mother/Crone as a structure to create a relationship between Ananke/Persephone/Minerva. What action would Ananke buy?

It has to be archetypal and mythic. Cheaty postmodernism doesn't work. Myth is brutal and basic and ugly and wrong.

So – if the Mother archetype has a child, Ananke's doomed forever. It breaks the little eternal circle and Ananke thinks herself trapped in that sensory void forever.

There's nothing in the above specifically and individually which worries me too much. It's how they intersect with the rest of the plot, and how we can chart a line between them all without saying anything we don't want to say, or without causing undue emotional distress in a way we're uncomfortable with.

We end up with our solution, which is merely our best solution, which means it's far from perfect. We do as much as we can, and try and touch on stuff as gently as we can to avoid any fair misreading of the story. Even so, there's resonances in there I dislike.

There's a sentence that is said all the time in writing room situations: “This is the bad version.” It's said when people are brainstorming, and asking the audience to know this isn't good, but they are good enough writers to make it better – it's just a structure of the sort of things that the narrative could delineate.

It's easy to imagine The Bad Version of this plot. Laura finding out she has to have a kid to save the world! Baal and Baphomet fighting over who's the father! An issue cliffhanger where you think Laura's own choice has doomed the world! I shudder. Like, someone with a different aesthetic to me would have done all of the above.

Instead, what we try to do is what we have to do to make the story work, and do it in the safest way possible. It's the guiding aesthetic of most of this issue, in terms of separating the two key threads – namely not confusing Laura's choice to have an abortion and Laura's choice to reject godhood.

But still – I spent four years trying to think of something that Ananke would buy, based on our implicit story, which wasn't this, and failed. I'd rather not have gone this way. I'm happy with the issue, but it was a heartbreaking amount of work as I take all of this intensely seriously.

So, to return to the opening, the problem with being as structured as WicDiv is means that you are tied to decisions you made years ago, without which the story simply breaks.

DIE (aka Project Spangly New Thing) rejects this kind of plotting. It's just as messy emotionally as WicDiv (hell, even more so) but leaves the characters a lot more narrative freedom. I'd have done it anyway (because I hate to repeat myself) but the experience on arcs like this certainly feeds into it.

Anyway – I'll be talking some specifics in this as we go through, as I suspect it may be useful for people thinking about the impact of choices.

Jamie's Cover: Ananke in her cavewoman chic. That means 2 “persephone”, 2 “minerva” and 2 “Ananke” covers for this arc. The symmetry seems fun.

Phil Jimenez's Cover: I first saw Phil's work in his pop-thrill issues of The Invisibles, an obviously influential work on yours truly. We worked together on Angela: Asgard's Assassin together, which was a thrill, and this glam-metal take on her. He's also very lovely. As such, Minerva in full-on catwalk mode is a great take. I love these kind of maximalist high-thrill ones. And LIZ's ‘When I rule the world’ has just come on my WicDiv shuffle at this point, which seems appropriate for Minerva stomping down a lightning-catwalk. Also, Dee Cunniffe (who has flatted nearly all of WicDiv) provides colours. Nice work, Dee.

Page 1-2

Black spaces. Like the opening of the arc – C's idea, I believe. Also, ensuring we get our page turns right. We dropped the recap for once. Normally we'd drop it in the mid-point of the issue instead of the first interstitial, but it would have broken the space.

Obviously mirroring the start of this arc.

The first obvious bit of delineation: this is ten days after the end of last issue. Laura stopped being Persephone 10 days ago. As such, anything that happens now is not connected to that.

The biggest reading we wanted to avoid: “Laura's abortion is the ritual by which she rejects and escapes the Persephone-Mother archetype”. Especially if people, either pro or anti choice, could make an argument we're saying we're saying the act is human sacrifice – a reading which seems especially possible in a story that already has human sacrifice in it.

Page 3-4-5-6

Reestablishing what folks have been up to in the gap – in short, bits and pieces, bits of information the characters should exchange, etc.

The Cass/Woden dialogue is stuff I'd have liked to get into issue 33, but was cut due to space and focus. It was Mimir's scene, and as he's been silent for the whole book, he gets to speak. The “He stole my life/I stole his” was all that was required. This is detail. Interesting detail, but detail. And, yes, loaded.

There's a lot of “starting other stuff” in this sequence – clearly the “ritual” is going to be important next arc.

I love what Jamie is doing quietly with Mimir and the boxes at the back of the room on page 4. Like, I wonder what's in each of those boxes, right? There's some horrible pure objectification here. Like, Pokémon. Got to catch them all.

You can tell that Woden is more chill with Minerva, right?

It was originally written with Minerva noting that mind-controlled-sex-is-rape at the end of page 4. That felt frankly aggressive, as if we were using it as a punchline. Instead, we soften it, and move it mid-panel, which changes the feeling around it, hopefully.

On page 6, I really like the “Hmm. You're learning.” It still makes me laugh.

Making the gun's controls REALLY VISUALLY OBVIOUS is not exactly subtle, but 100% needed to make sure the scene make sense.

Page 7-8-9

With a month gap between issues, it's possible that the reader may not have noticed that we've changed the issue structure from the rest of this arc. It's not “past stuff then present stuff” like the others. It's at least one reason why we didn't give a preview – that and that the first pages of the issue are entirely non-characteristic in terms of where the issue goes.

Anyway – first page is a pure repeat from issue 34, so a free page. This issue is a little longer than normal, due to normal cheats. It's actually 20 new pages long... plus one new panel.

Page 8 is very peak Jamie, plus Matt, for a certain mode. I never get bored of seeing what they do with blood together. Ananke's expression in panel 4 is just particularly well chosen. This isn't how Minerva feels last issue – that's after thousands of years of dwelling on it. This is first exposure. You don't go straight to AGRGRHRHRHRHH.

And back to the still angle on the third panel. Like, the static nature of these seems important in terms of mood.

I really hope Ananke isn't licking that knife.

Page 10

I spent the best part of a day trying to work out what to name this interstitial, after naming it a few things previously. That we end up with a very limited Bowie nod says everything. Anything else seemed to create resonances we were trying to avoid. Once more, the aim is to separate the two decisions from Laura as much as possible.

Page 11

I know drawing London kills Jamie, but I'll miss seeing stuff like this monthly when it's gone.

We don't know Laura's walked out of a clinic for a few pages, but it was important to just give her space here.

Researching locations in London, in terms of placing the events, the timing, what would be available, and Laura's condition after an abortion and trying to find a way to be sensitive to all of that as a writer. Ideally, I was looking for an option around Highbury & Islington, as I always prefer to reuse settings. In practise, this was best.

Page 12

I basically described Beth's crew as Valkyrie-plusses. As in, the mini-bosses in a videogame. Elite models for a basic troop type.

Toni pushes to the front, as he's always been the most talkative of the Other Two. Writing this I realised who he is here – he's basically “Imagine Marvel Boy, if Marvel Boy was a total idiotic dipshit.”

(Instead of the “mostly idiotic dipshit” he was in YA. Love you, Noh-Varr! KISSY FACE.)

I believe Jamie laughed at this a fair bit.

Page 13-14

I considered various captions for Laura here, but no matter what they did, they blurred the line between her abortion and her abandoned godhood. As such, the relative silence was considered more effective.

13-14-15-16

A lot is packed into this space. In an ideal world, I'd like another page for it, to extend Beth's choice to shoot or not, but it's all there.

Key delineations here: obvious restatement of the 10 days since she's been a god, to ensure it's clear. “Panel 3”; Beth never knowing (nor caring) where Laura has just been; Robin actually being human; Laura's privacy being respected; the “I've got more imminent problems” to separate her being shot from this; most importantly, Laura never knowing that this decision was important to Minerva, and never letting Minerva's mistaken beliefs impact her decision. Laura' abortion is her choice and doesn't need a bunch of mythic stuff attached to it for her.

The “shame” line resonates with another, more optimistic, line on the first page of Young Avengers. This speaks to the books, and the choices and the attached psychology.

Page 17

Oddly, the “no cameras in the bathroom” information we've set up allows this scene. Minerva isn't someone who would vocalise much if someone could have hear. You can imagine her looking in each booth to see if someone's around. I did consider moving to captions for a page, but Minerva getting captions for this one event seemed aesthetically off.

Page 18

Self-evident interstitial, and so long a bit of text I can hear designers wincing.

Page 19-20

Earliest scene so far in WicDiv. I did consider having it set after the murder, with the grandson coming back to hear her last words, but the “alive-dead-alive-dead-alive-dead” was getting a bit silly. A quietly magical breakfast conversation seemed the way to go.

I think the bleakest and darkly funniest thing in the issue is the “Eventually, we'll learn. It may take a thousand years, but someone will figure it out.” Oh, you total optimist, you.

I do like the mood of the colouring for this.

Okay – the key structural bit for safety-proofing this plot? The absolute minimisation of the gap between discovering the fourth rule, discovering Laura has had an abortion and then discovering that the fourth rule is just a lie. The longer it hangs, the more it is letting people live with an idea we find reprehensible. The thing I knew when starting this arc is all of this had to happen inside the same issue – the problem there being, that it also had to be foreshadowed enough to not come out of nowhere. And if you foreshadow too heavily, it's as same as saying “this is where it's going”.

Anyway – that wrapped up, we move towards the end...

Page 21-22-23-24-25

The continuation of last issue's end. Laura and her captions.

Some perfect McKelvie expressions, and some key beats. Like, this also adds shade to last issue – I forget if I mentioned that one of the key beats of the series (Laura rejecting her godhood) being dramatised by her swapping a SIM card seems absolutely key to where we are.

Two key expressions – the glance to camera with “I'm not a god” and “So what? So do you.” I could marry Jamie for these.

Matt working the blacks and the ochres here is fascinating.

Thought experiment: originally the layout on page 21 had two captions in panel 3 and two in panel 4. I moved the first from panel 4 to panel 3. Why? A single caption always has more weight in a given space. Having two in each was effectively giving no extra weight to any individual caption. Instead, three in one makes that the conversational beat and the one over the spiral-staircase means the latter just hangs there.

(In short: less dialogue/caption in any space makes the line more important. SPACE=MEANING is what I've been saying all along, usually with panel size. As in, “bigger panels read as more important.” But the same sort of thinking applies to lettering in terms of the space it is allowed to “control.”)

End of page 21 – a final restating of the two events being separate. Laura choosing to have an abortion is something she decided when starting to put her life back together. It's not a cause of her stopping being a god – if anything, it's something that's resulted from her new state of mind.

Lots in terms of mode in 22, but I love how Jamie has handled the nudity in the second panel. As in, she's a girl changing for bed, but she's never presented as something to be objectified, to looked at. Laura is always someone we're meant to be. We are meant to inhabit her, and her us.

The panel at the start of 23 is the extra panel we squeezed in. One panel for this amount of extra material, leading to the better reveal seemed a good choice.

Did I mention I lost a line I really liked last issue? The “At long last, I know what I'm not” was originally “I know what I am/and I know what I'm not.” Which is pretty and elegant, but also confusing with this ending – the “what I am” is “not a god” and what I'm not” is “a god”. Prettiness only goes so far, especially as it's not as if Laura's going to stop and explain that.

Lots of key bits of dialogue in these pages, obviously. “I distrust anyone who tells me who I am. Especially if I agree” and all that.

Obviously in storytelling choices, this is reprising, in an inverted way, the end of The Faust Act. Instead of a flash of light, fading into darkness, darkness emerging from light. Also, really strong choice of expression in that final panel.

26

Referencing ‘Dancing In the Dark’. Springsteen's is obviously great, but I'm thinking of the Downtown Boys' cover which is much closer to where WicDiv is coming from.

I choke up at all this scene. Been a long way to get here, Laura. Onwards.

The trade collection for Mothering Invention is out in October. We have two Specials before next arc, WicDiv: 1373 (out at the end of September) and WicDiv: The Funnies (out in November.)

We're then back in December, where we begin our final arc.

It's called – “Okay”. Including the quotation marks. Yes, we're going out on another Bowie reference.

Thanks for reading.