#side note: every time I go to type out Carlos’ last name it takes everything in me not to type Carlos Roblox

[maxgicalgirl]

So I’ve been trying to think about what the reveal of Carlos’ last name means for Charles in terms of a full name.

Since the name Charles is an English variation of the name Carlos, would his name just be Charles Oaks ? Or since he’s got pine tree symbolism from Pine Cliff, would he have a pine based last name ? Is Charles confirmed Latino ? Because if so then he could be Charles Pinos to mirror Carlos Robles. Or we could go with Charles Pines, but that might be too on the nose since he’s from a pine-based town.

Idk I’m having fun thinking about it

[hopelikethemoon]

The Gift (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: The Gift Rating: PG-13 Length: 2200 Warnings: None.  Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in January 1997. This is part of the “big angst” that will be covered over this weekend and Monday.  Summary: Reader considers the gift Javier gave her. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes​@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501​@fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim​@amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano​ @beskar-droids​ @space-floozy @ct-arc-5555​ @cable-kenobi​

“Do I really want to open this can of worms?” You questioned, running your hand over the subtle curve of your stomach. “I think your daddy really wants me to.” You sighed heavily and sank back in your office chair. Your gaze flickered towards the stack of manila envelopes sitting on top of your file sorter. They had been sitting, right there, since your first day back after Laredo. 

You had gotten Javier an engraved ring; the day you met, your birthdate, his, Josie’s, and enough room for the new baby’s birthdate. Javier had gotten you a stack of FOIA’d files from the DEA. Every mention of your name on the Pablo Escobar case. Every contribution you made to the Cali Cartel investigation. Buried within that bundle of files was also, as Javier had explained, incriminating evidence that the DEA had intentionally concealed your efforts. 

Swallowing thickly, you pulled one of the files off the sorter. You bent the metal clasp straight and pulled it open. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as you stared down at the painfully familiar letter heading.

Colombia felt like a lifetime ago. 

That last year with the DEA had been a living hell. 

Working for the Miami PD had been a breath of fresh air. You had a team that supported you, supervisors who respected you and valued you… You never had that with the DEA. Javier and Steve had been the only two at the DEA who seemed to give a shit what you said. You spent your entire career working five times harder than every man, only to get an eighth of the credit. 

Or none.

You got up out of your chair, heading over to shut the door to your office, pulling the blinds shut on the little glass window. You sank back down in your seat, staring at the stack of neatly stacked papers that had been tucked into the folder.

Five folders symbolized the culmination of years of effort. From 1987 to 1993. 

You leaned forward and pressed the speaker button on your desk phone, before clicking the speed dial button for Javier’s office. It rang once before he picked up, his voice exactly what you needed to hear right then. “Hello?”

“Hey, Javi.” 

“Hey baby, I was just thinking about you.” Javier said warmly. “What’s up?”

“I finally opened the files and... “ You laughed quietly, “I guess I’m a little hormonal right now.” You rubbed under your eyes as you looked down at the top sheet of paper. “Just seeing my name and the DEA is… blast from the past.”

“You were the best goddamn agent they ever had in Colombia. And you know it.” 

“Of course I know it.” You rolled your eyes. “I had to put up with you and Murph. I had to be good.”

“You took down Carlos Lehder on your second day, baby. Do you have any idea how many years that asshole spent evading US forces? Second day and you fucking bag him. How many years has it been? Cause I’m still proud of you for that.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his praise. Your fingers trembled as you flipped through the pages. “What were you thinking that night?”

“Hmm?”

“At the bar. I still remember this look you had… I couldn’t figure it out.” You recalled, brows furrowed as you flipped to a page of reports that had Javier’s horrible handwriting printed between the margins. 

“You really wanna know?”

“Sure.” You looked towards the phone. “Was it good?”

“Well, yeah.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and chuckled. “What do you think I was thinking about, baby?”

“I figured as much.” You grinned, rubbing at the back of your neck as you settled back in your chair. “Damn… jealous since day one. Javier, have you always had a heart?” 

“If you hadn’t been so fucking… you.” Javi huffed softly. 

A comfortable silence fell between you as you shuffled through the pages, you could hear the soft inhale and exhales coming from him on the other side of the line. You wished he were there with you, flipping through years of work together. But he’d gifted them to you to do with as you wished. 

“You trust this journalist?”

“He uncovered the whole Tailhook Convention scandal.” Javier sighed heavily. “And that was a shit show.”

“Yeah. I remember reading about it.” Trust the Pentagon to try to cover up a massive sexual assault scandal among their good ole boys. “So he’s good. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, but… is my story even that important?”

“Baby…” 

“I’m just one agent that got royally fucked over by the DEA. Doesn’t it seem a little narcissistic to think I’m so important that I need to have my name printed?” 

“Steve told me.”

“Told you what?”

Your heart sank. 

Javier sighed. “After you left the bar that night. I didn’t realize what he was doing, but in hindsight… I get it now.” He was silent for a moment, before he continued. “You wanted to make a name for yourself. That’s what you told him, right?”

“I mean… Yeah.” You tucked the files back into the folder and reached for the second, peeling it open and dumping them out. There was a stack of square photos with a rubber band wrapped around them. Pictures from stakeouts, late nights… Steve was always documenting everything. He loved that goddamn camera. 

They always had to go into the case files, except for a few you had stolen. “I mean… that’s why I volunteered for Colombia. No one else was crazy enough to go there and I thought… that’s my shot.” 

“And it was. You could’ve had it all, baby. But I—”

“Were the best partner a girl could ask for, Javi. You and Steve were so good at your jobs.” You smiled wistfully down at a picture of the three of you. You had Javier’s aviators on and were wedged in between the two of them. “I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything. I don’t need my name in the history books.” 

“But what about everyone else? What about Josie and the baby? What if they want to follow in their mother’s footsteps.” 

“God, I hope they don’t want to be DEA.” You laughed, “Good parents don’t let their kids grow up to be feds.” 

“You’re avoiding the topic.” 

“If we start this, we have no idea where it’ll go, Javi. An article like this… it’ll have ramifications.” You cautioned. “Everything with the DEA comes at a cost.” 

“This was your dream.” Javier pressed. “They cut you out. Completely. You know it, I know it, Steve knows it…” He sighed heavily. “Just call the guy. See where he wants to take this. He already knows the jist of this shit.” 

“I know.” You sat the photos aside and went through a stack of neatly typed notes that you had taken towards the end of the case. Some of the last stakeouts the three of you went on together. Good memories. Really good memories. 

“What do we do, Javi? Do we tell them everything? You, me… the kids? There’s a lot more to this story than just me being cut out.” You pushed your fingers through your hair. “And Steve…”

“Knows what I got you for Christmas. He helped me get them FOIA’d.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and you wished you could see his face. “He’s willing to burn the place down, baby. Just say the word.”

“What is he going to do?” You questioned. “They’ve got two little girls.” 

“He’s got plans to open his own consulting firm. He’s playing it by ear.” Javier told you, “He’s not thrilled with the DEA either.” He sighed heavily, “I’ve got this faculty meeting in a couple minutes, but… Do you want to meet for lunch at Demetrio?”

You tucked the files back away in the envelope, picking up the business card with the journalist’s name on it. “Yeah. Lunch sounds like a good idea. I think I’m gonna call this guy…”

“I’m proud of you.”

“I know you are.”

 ——

 You passed your menu to the waiter, offering him a polite smile, “I’ll just do the omelet. You can put the sausage on a side plate for him.”

“Something besides water?”

“Hot tea. Breakfast.” You looked towards Javier who was still mulling over the menu. “You know you like their Monte Cristo, just order that.”

“I’m not sure if I want sweet.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck. 

“The spicy eggs were good.” You recalled, taking the menu from him and looking it over. “Spicy Morning.” You pointed it out to Javier. “Something like that?” You gave the waiter a sympathetic smile. 

“I’ll do the empanada special.” Javier finally decided, “Coffee instead of tea.” 

You rolled your eyes after the waiter left, “Really? I thought you hate how their empanadas were made.” 

He shrugged, scratching at his jaw. “I’m willing to give them a second chance.” Javier looked towards you then, “Are we going to do this?” 

“I think I’m ready.” You chewed on your bottom lip as you reached across the table and squeezed his hand. “I called him. We spoke a little and… I felt good about it?” 

Javier held your gaze, “You can stop at any time.” 

“I know I can, but… I do think this is the right thing to do. Someone has to stop it, right? And I mean… They’ve got assholes like Chris working for them, but me? I get the ax? It’s bullshit.” You squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand, “So it was a good Christmas gift?”

You laughed, “I know I didn’t seem very appreciative.” You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “But I am.” 

God were you glad he had suggested exchanging gifts in private. Opening a box to find a stack of manila envelopes containing the sum of your efforts in Colombia had not been your ideal gift. It was one of the few times you’d raised your voice — and you couldn’t really do that with Chucho sleeping down the hall. 

It wasn’t until Javier gave you the chance to calm down that you realized just how profound the gift had been. Two years ago you had come completely unglued because of the DEA. Finding out that your name had been struck from every file had been a painful realization. Javier had listened to you, remembered it, and worked to find a way to rectify it. 

If you had any doubts about how he felt about you, that gift would’ve made it abundantly clear. But you knew how he felt about you, about the life you shared with him. It had been a remarkably thoughtful gift. 

“I’m just scared.” You admitted to him, rubbing your lips together thoughtfully. “We both know what happens when you go up against the government. They are ruthless.” 

“I know, baby.” Javi squeezed your hand three times, before you both had to make room for the waiter’s return with the drinks. He sat Javier’s coffee down in front of him and your tea in front of you. 

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything else?”

“We’re good, thank you.” You smiled, before looking back to Javier. “You know, when I got into the government — the DEA — I never pictured myself going down this path. Calling journalists, setting up tell-alls.” You curled your fingers around your mug, 

“When I went to Colombia, I didn’t think I’d come home with a family.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck as he took a sip of coffee. 

You nudge his foot under the table. “Me neither.” You shook your head with a laugh. “We should fuck with them next Christmas. Send the Bogotá office a Christmas card with the four of us.” You stroked the curve of your belly. “The reporter had a lot of questions about us.”

“Really?”

You nodded with a sheepish grin. “I guess the human interest side of the story has some appeal.” You tapped your foot against his ankle. “I’m sure there will be scrutiny about us. We work together for what? Five years? Did nothing really happen before Steve left?” You rolled your eyes.

“We had tremendous self-control.” Javier chuckled, shaking his head as he scratched at the side of his jaw. “You don’t think they’d believe that?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “The thought of living in a fishbowl is a little terrifying. I already had the DEA turning over every aspect of my life.” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek, looking away. 

“How bad did it get?”

“Oh, they looked to see if I had any impropriety prior to Colombia. But,” You snapped your fingers and shot finger guns at Javier. “You were the only partner I was ever involved with… well, I mean Lance was working with the DEA. Does he count?”

Javier rocked his jaw and huffed. “I don’t think he counts.” 

“That’s because you don’t like thinking about me with him.” You raised your brows, giving him a look. “I should probably call him and tell him about this article.”

“Do you talk?”

You shook your head, “Not since that day he was at the office. But I don’t want him blindsided.” You brushed the topic aside. “Are we really ready to face Colombia like this, Javi? I mean, this isn’t something small. This is The Washington Post… front page.”

“I’m ready if you’re ready, baby.” 

“I think I am.” 

[insidious-intent]

Tarlos college AU? Maybe Owen is a professor? Thank you!

I’m very sorry for the delay, nonnie. But this took on a life of its own. Please note this is an explicit fic. 

The Subtle Art of Seduction

“Here we goooo! Shots for everyone and a non-alcoholic drink for Marjan!” Paul screamed, bringing over 3 shots and a small drink glass to their table. The bar was packed with returning seniors, a whole bunch of grad students, and even a few sturdy underclassmen. Their usual table had thankfully been empty and the small group of friends had descended as soon as they all returned to campus. 

They had all congregated the first night of returning to campus, happy to be in each other’s company. Paul, Marjan, Mateo, and TK were all in their last year of undergrad, and the summer before had been busy with internships for everyone. 

TK toasted the shots and took the pull, relishing in the burn of alcohol down his throat. He elbowed Marjan, who was happy with the non-alcoholic drink in her hand. 

“So this is it, Marwani. We’re in the penultimate semester,” he started, smirking at his friend. “Are you finally going to make a move?” 

Marjan rolled her eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uh huh, so I’m sure you’ll be fine with Suzie hanging out in Bilal’s room tonight,” TK responded. He knew he was being a little shit, but they were in their final year and he wasn’t going to let this go. He had watched Marjan quietly pine over a classmate for years now, and he wasn’t going to let her watch from a distance as Bilal got seduced by some other girl. 

Marjan’s face said everything about how she felt about TK’s words. “There is no way Bilal is going to go for a lush like Suzie! He’s too worried about his summer internship to be that distracted.” TK grinned. After three years of being classmates and friends, TK knew exactly what buttons to push, and Marjan always fell for it. 

“You have only a few months, maybe six months at the most to tell him how you feel,” TK said. Mateo piped up from the other side of the table, “this is your last chance, babe.” 

Marjan groaned loudly. “Well what about pretty boy over here?” she said, pointing at TK. “He hasn’t gone out with a single person since the end of freshman year.” 

Paul nodded his head so hard, TK wanted to call him a bobble head. “Yeah bro, we haven’t seen you do anything with anyone for two years now!” 

TK groaned dramatically. “Yeah well the dating pool ain’t all that deep here at UT Austin. But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about our girl here being brave.” 

Mateo and Marjan looked at TK with a glint in their eyes that has spelled trouble since all four of them were grouped for a Psych project in the first semester of freshman year. 

Back then it was all about being as reckless as possible, knowing TK was the son of Professor Owen Strand, and at eighteen that was the level of authority fit for rebellion. 

But then TK’s dad was appointed as the college dean, Alex, his boyfriend of a year broke up with him, and the rebellious phase ended abruptly right after. 

His friends were still staring at him, “what what?” he asked. 

Everyone smiled at him in a way that promised trouble. Marjan was the one who spoke up, “I’ll ask Bilal out if you ask out a hottie tonight.” From the mirroring smiles on Paul and Mateo’s faces, TK knew he was going to be outnumbered here. He rolled his eyes and threw his hands. If this is what got Marjan to finally make a move, then he would happily take one for the team. 

“I know you all think I’m some type of prude now, but you know what Marjan, you’re on,” he said with a smirk of his own. 

Clearly he had the number of every one of his friends, because they all stopped smiling, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“We’re on?” Mateo asked. 

“Yep,” TK responded, making sure to sound the p with an extra obnoxious pop. “I’ll definitely ask out a guy tonight, and then Marjan gets to ovary up and ask Bilal out.” 

“And we pick who you ask!” Paul interjected. TK glared at him, but refused to back down. He was on a mission that night. 

“Fine, you pick who I ask,” he said, with only lightly gritted teeth. He rolled his eyes at Mateo and Paul high-fiving, and smirked at Marjan who was looking only a little frazzled. “What do you say, Marwani?”

TK hadn’t seen Marjan back down from a challenge in three years, so he was gratified to not be proven wrong. “You’re on, pretty boy,” Marjan said, “let’s go find you a hottie!” 

***

TK approached the guy standing at the bar, with his back towards TK. A soft looking brown leather jacket, and sinfully tight black jeans were all TK could see, but he had to hand it to his friends - they didn’t pick wrong. 

“Buy me a pizza?” he said to the stranger with an ass to bounce a quarter off of. The stranger turned and TK almost took a step back. The guy was a certifiable hottie, and suddenly TK was a lot more invested in the bet. 

“Excuse me?” the handsome stranger asked with a little confused smile, showing off perfect cheekbones. 

“I said buy me a pizza, handsome stranger,” TK responded, a little bewildered at the words tumbling out of his mouth. 

The lovely and still handsome stranger raised an eyebrow, “and why should I buy you a pizza?” 

“How else would we get to know each other before the sex?” 

The stranger’s eyes darkened as he took a moment to check TK out from head to toe, and TK felt heat thrumming through him. This was going to be easier than he thought. 

“Or we could skip the pizza and you could take me to your place right now,” he said, knowing he had won this round. 

***

TK barely heard the door slamming behind them, too busy kissing the beautiful stranger while also trying to get his shirt off. The kisses had started out tentative, slow, and awkward, but hadn’t stayed that way too long. By the time they’d reached the guy’s apartment, TK was vibrating with need. He couldn’t stop touching the guy, hands moving up and down the expanse of a strong, broad back. TK felt dizzy with desire, moving to pull at the guy’s pants, even as his own shirt was unbuttoned and thrown away faster than a blink. 

“I’m TK,” he panted between biting kisses, “what’s your name?” 

The guy pulled back and smirked at him. “Carlos. Glad you asked, so you’ll be screaming the right name tonight.”

Fuck the guy, Carlos, and his husky gravelly voice. TK groaned as he felt teeth on his collarbone, closing his eyes as Carlos walked him back towards a giant couch. When Carlos pulled off his own shirt in one smooth move, TK almost saw stars, working to take the rest of his clothes off even faster. The man was built like a brick house - all hard angles and strong muscles. He moved to cover TK with his entire body, kissing - deep, heated kisses - and TK felt like he’s on fire from the inside. He pushed Carlos back for a second, just enough to breathe for a moment and look at Carlos - eyes dark and hungry. 

“Sit back,” TK ordered, and Carlos fumbled to comply, pushing his back onto the couch. 

TK made quick work of crawling up Carlos’ body and peeling off his boxer briefs, kissing the sensitive skin inside the thighs. 

“TK,” Carlos groaned, making TK smile, and he quickly licked at the leaking slit. Carlos shot out a hand behind him to grip the back of the couch, a long moan ripping through him. TK wanted to take his time, he felt a little giddy at the taste, at Carlos’ reaction. But his own cock was so hard he felt dizzy, and he gripped the base of Carlos’ cock tightly, taking as much of it in his mouth as he could. 

Carlos moaned something indistinct as TK continued to move his mouth over his cock, moving his free hand to stroke the soft skin behind his balls. He felt bold, but he wasn’t sure if Carlos would take kindly to his assumptions about opening Carlos up. He decided to take a chance, moving to remove his mouth from Carlos’ cock with an obscene pop and a trail of saliva shining bright. 

“Lube?” he asked, figuring it was the safest way to get an answer. He wasn’t even done with the thought process before a packet of lube was slapped on his palm, and he wasted no time getting his fingers slick. 

“TK, TK, come on,” Carlos chanted, as TK swirled his tongue around the head, easing up so he could press it flat against the sensitive underside of his cock, tracing along the vein. He kept up the torture while pressing his fingers against Carlos’ hole, getting it slick, feeling two of his fingers slide in easily. A low and fervent fuck was the only response he got, as he pulled up to see Carlos gone all glassy eyed, flushed and breathing hard, as TK pulled up and stroked him in rhythm with the press of his fingers inside Carlos. 

“You wanna come for me, handsome?” TK purred, actually purred, bewildered by his own body’s response to Carlos. Carlos just made a choked off little moan and suddenly TK’s hand was full of come. Carlos just moaned and whimpered his way into post-orgasm sensitivity. 

“You’re really good at that,” Carlos slurred a little, pushing his legs apart to give TK’s fingers inside him even more access. 

“Come here,” he asked, pulling at TK’s shoulders until TK chuckled and moved up, sliding up Carlos’ body to kiss him slow and measured. Which turned into a deep groan as he guided his cock into Carlos’ ass. The tight heat of Carlos, the sliding slick sweat between them, miles and miles of responsive body under him, all working to drive him insane. 

“Please, please, please,” Carlos chanted, and TK could feel where he was half-hard already, and TK’s slow steady rhythm faltered. That voice was making him feel frantic. 

“I got you, baby,” TK breathed into a slick collarbone, skin flush. The pace was tortuously slow for him too, on that knife-edge between so-good-it-hurt and hurt-because-it’s-so-good, and the room was almost oppressive in its heat and silence. The only sounds in the room were the whirring of the central air and the wrecked mess of their breathing, arrhythmic and shuddering.

He could feel himself losing it, the smooth glide of his hips going shaky and uncontrolled until he gave into the need, buried himself in Carlos and came. He felt Carlos’ sharp inhale and the clutch of his orgasm in addition to the slick heat buried between them.

He tried to roll them over but they ended up on the plush rug on the floor, and TK felt like he was just going to pass out for the rest of the night right there. But Carlos got up and went somewhere, coming back with a wet and warm towel to wipe him clean. What a gentleman. 

“It’s late,” Carlos whispered, running his hands over TK’s side, tracing his tattoo. “You should stay.”

TK couldn’t find a fault in the logic. 

***

The blaring of the alarm almost made him throw his phone away. TK rolled over in the hands-down most comfortable bed he’d slept in, and snatched his phone before it could go off again. He looked and it seemed to say 7am. Holy fuck. 

He jumped up and ran around the room, grabbing every item of his clothing he could find. He saw Carlos roll over and stare at him with such warm and sleep filled eyes, he almost said fuck it and climbed back into bed. 

“You pulling a runner, handsome?” Carlos asked, voice just as sleepy and warm as the rest of him. TK wanted so badly to not leave.

But the memory of Prof. Blake’s academic requirements blared loudly in his head. She would kill him with extra work if he was late to the first day. 

“I’m so sorry, but I have a class at 8, and my professor is a hard ass,” he said, trying to be as apologetic as possible. 

For some reason, Carlos sat up in bed. “Oh shit, so do I,” he said, jumping up to grab a pair of boxer-briefs. 

He was kind enough to give TK an extra toothbrush but TK still needed to grab coffee, so he just pushed a kiss against Carlos’ lips and took off for campus. 

He had to actually skip coffee so he would make it in time for the class, and his whole body and brain were screaming at him by the time he got in the room. Paul and Marjan were already seated, and Mateo was making his way over. TK walked over and dropped in the chair so gracelessly, he almost tumbled off, only saved by Marjan’s quick hand on his sweatshirt. 

“Walk of shame, Strand,” Marjan said, a smirk firmly on her face. “I’m astounded.”

“All’s fair in war, Marwani. Now pay up,” he said, a smirk of his own aimed at her. Marjan’s smirk dropped, and she glared as TK stared at Bilal walking up to sit in front of their row. Who said TK couldn’t do a good deed, and be dicked six ways to Sunday. The next five minutes were an exercise in sheer delight, watching Marjan steel herself, play with her scarf for a full thirty seconds, and then finally tap Bilal on the shoulder. 

“Hey Marwani,” Bilal turned, with a smile that had turned TK’s stomach upside down back in freshman year. Now he was happy to sit back and watch his best friend work her magic. 

“So hey, I was thinking,” Marjan started, voice oddly high. “Watchu doin on Friday?”

Bilal’s jaw almost dropped. “Are you…asking me out?”

Marjan’s shoulders immediately rose, and TK saw Paul move forward at the same time he did. If they had to beat up a really good looking guy for insulting his best friend, TK was ready to throw down. 

“What if I was?” Marjan said.

Bilal threw his head back and laughed. “I have been trying for three whole years to get the courage to ask you out. But you beat me to that too.” His smile was brighter than the sun, and both TK and Paul slumped back in their chairs. TK was never going to let Marjan forget that giggle that came out of her as a response. He elbowed her, knowing how happy she was, and knowing they were absolutely going to be discussing her date plans. 

Dr. Blake walked in at exactly seven fifty nine am, and the resulting commotion lay an end to the most satisfying morning scene. Dr. Blake walked up to the front of the class, and started the projector, sharing her laptop screen and tacking on her lapel mic. 

“Welcome back seniors,” she started. “All of you should know the drill of this class by now, so I won’t bore you by going over the details again. But there’s one change I want to talk about today.” She moved to stand in front of the class. “You all know Nancy has moved back to New York to take professorship at NYU.” A few boos echoed at the name, and Dr. Blake smiled at that. “Yes yes we hate them yanks. But this means I have a new TA, and he’s going to be running everything with an iron fist.” She motions to a figure sitting in the very corner of the front row, and TK can’t help but feel a strong sense of familiarity staring at that profile. 

The figure stood up to turn and wave at the class. TK felt the blood drain from his entire face, and from the Marjan had clutched his arm in a death like grip, he wasn’t the only one shocked. 

“Say hello to your new TA, Carlos Reyes, everyone,” Dr. Blake said.

TK was fucked. 

[zecretsanta]

FIC: Right to Left

To: @duelistguard

From: @erisofimladris

Summary: Sometimes, a wedding this long-awaited is overwhelming in the most amazing way. Inspired by “Morphogenetic Sorrow’’ from the 999 OST and written for ZEcret Santa 2020! Spoiler warning for the entire Zero Escape trilogy.

Author’s Note: When I saw the prompt to write a fic inspired by “Morphogenetic Sorrow,” my mind instantly went to the way the song was integral in the scene where Junpei saves young Akane, and then reappears when he proposes to her in ZTD. I have held this story in my heart for many years and am thrilled to write it now! Happy holidays and enjoy :)

There is a new pressure on Akane’s left ring finger.

A gentle hold, almost like a hug surrounding the skin. It was the same feeling she remembered from when Junpei slid the ring on her right ring finger in Dcom, when she had been shouting at him for leaving her to SHIFT away from a timeline where he died. The ring turned that day into such a jumble of emotions that she hadn’t been able to process it properly, not until they were out of the facility and she watched the diamond glint in the harsh Nevada sun.

It brought back memories of another time when she’d wanted a ring from him but didn’t live long enough, and another time when she’d worn the ring on the wrong finger for decades because she was trying too hard to save the world from a horrible fate that she had no time for love.

But this timeline features neither of those things. She is alive, young and free from every obligation on her shoulders, and all that remains is to make her own happiness. And yet, because there is no plan for this moment, no rehearsal until it feels like she’s done things a thousand times before, she wakes up with sudden nerves.

As she prepares, she resolves to find five things she can see, four she can feel, three she can hear, two she can smell, one she can taste. It came from some website either she or Aoi found back when they were preparing to act in the Second Nonary Game and had to stay calm. Her senses were the only thing keeping her alive, and honing them while keeping her calm was an efficient way to do what needed to be done. Not to mention, it wasn’t hard to wrap her head around using numbers, even if it was a different mechanic than what she was preparing for. Counting things like this could help make everything make sense.

It made sense now, too - it felt like ten million things had to go the right way for this day to happen, and considering the Nonary Games, Dcom, and hunting a terrorist fanatic, that number didn’t seem like that big of an exaggeration.

She snapped out of her thoughts when the whirlwind of outfit preparation was finally done and the doors to the room opened at last.

She sees Junpei first - his hair, finally organized; his outfit clean and crisp; just like she’d imagined him as her groom when she was the awkward girl in middle school who clung to him as her only close friend. Then, out of the corner of her eye, Aoi finally cracking a smile by her side as they start to walk. She hadn’t imagined a ceremony involving both walking down the aisle and drinking nine sips of sake from three separate cups (more numbers, she couldn’t help but giggle), but this hodgepodge feels like how their relationship came together. Everything stopped being simple and straightforward so many years ago that it felt like their wedding should be the same.

Three more things to see. Maria in a flouncy dress offering Gab a treat. Carlos, on the other side, swiping a pillow away from the old “ring dog.” The slight rustling of clothes as everyone settles into position, ready to get started.

She shuffles forward, feeling the silk of her mother’s kimono - the one that came inexplicably to her mind when she was on the floor by the submarine, imagining the life she wondered if she would get to have when everything was over. Back to the present, her shoes are pinching. Her hand is slightly cold as Aoi’s leaves and he retreats to the side.

The sound of Aoi’s footsteps as he withdraws catches her slightly off guard. She knows he’s never truly leaving - he’s the type to be in her life forever, especially considering - no. She needs to stay in the present, in the voice of the officiant who sounds like he needs a tissue but that would detract from the solemnity. Shoes, voice. She needs one more sound. It comes in the clink of the cups as Junpei bumps into the table, and she can’t stifle her smile.

Smell isn’t hard - the sake has smelled strong ever since she stood next to it, flowery but with a definite hint of alcohol. She’ll have to moderate that, she’s not used to alcohol like certain people named Junpei standing to her right and smelling like nervousness and corn flakes and Junpei.

The taste of the sake overwhelms her mind until the only thing she can think is, This is it. I’m marrying Junpei. Not in a dozen timelines from now, but right now. Right now.

After the ceremony, there is a new dress. Instead of silk against her skin, she feels the sudden heaviness of satin. All she can see is Junpei’s smile, and the happiness rattles around in her skull until she is almost delirious with it.

Her senses blend together when she makes her way out in pinchy shoes to hearty applause. Cake from Junpei’s fork fills her mouth, sweet and chocolatey and she suddenly has the energy to dance all night. Diana’s laugh as Sigma decides now is the time to sing along with the music blends with the voice of Akane and Junpei’s sixth-grade teacher, who she managed to track down, saying that it’s nice to see some of her old favorite students, especially after one of them left her school so long ago. Her diamond ring clacks against a glass when she takes a drink of something that smells spicy, and she almost spills it when she feels Gab stepping on her dress as he makes his way across the room, quickly followed by the clomping footsteps of whoever she assigned to keep track of him. Different strengths of hugs from Carlos, Diana, Aoi, are those really tears on his cheeks? She has no time to think about that when she feels the taste of Junpei’s lips against hers a thousand different times when he finds her making her way around the room. They leave when it’s too dark to see anything outside; she catches herself wishing the moon was bigger and lets out a laugh as she rests her hand against the door handle of a rather fancy car.

“There’s one more thing,” Akane says as they settle into the car, finally, blissfully alone except for the very professional driver. Unlike so much of their time together, this is the first time Akane gets to experience this moment. She doesn’t know what Junpei might find funny or sad or exhilarating. She can only hope he feels the same way she does as she rummages in her little white purse and pulls out a small voodoo doll.

“That’s it, then,” he says. Even without being inside his head, Akane knows that how he wrinkles his face a little means that he is unsure what she is thinking or wants from him.

“I know we didn’t do an entirely traditional ceremony, but I thought I’d bring something lucky for you.”

She almost burst out laughing when his facial expression looked like she’d just hit him with a frying pan. “Lucky?” he finally asks. “Isn’t this the doll you went back for when you were - ”

He still hasn’t figured out how to talk about it, but then again, he hasn’t had years of practice. She smiles. “The very same.” She runs her finger over the worn surface of the fabric. It’s been years since she needed it, but the fabric still feels like love.

“But how could something that made you go back there be lucky?”

“Because I had something to go back for,” she said. When he didn’t reply, she prepared for another one of her explanations which, thankfully, she didn’t have to rehearse. “You were the person who gave the most hope in my life. I went back for this doll because I dreamed that we would be able to have a moment like this one day, and even though things really didn’t go the way I expected - in the beginning, at least - I couldn’t be happier that we’re here together. Another one of my long stories short, this doll brought us back together, even though it made a lot of other things happen too. It was worth it.”

“But…”

Akane smiles. It’s finally over. She is finally in her happy ending, and the past can take a back seat. “It was worth it,” she repeats as their hands meet over the old, worn fabric. The ring on her left ring finger glints in the moonlight as they finally head home.

[hortensemitchell]

Just Us

 In the quiet of the night James finally has the time to reflect on his very first night in Hollywood. Under the pressure of his own thoughts, he'll find that he is never alone.

Rating: G

Pairing: N/A.

Words: 1868

The bedroom was dimly lit by the street lights peeking through the cracked and broken pieces of the blinds, illuminating the dingy carpet and dull paint of the walls. Virtually every space of the room was lined with miscellaneous boxes with messy scrawl, ‘summer clothes’, ‘electronics’, ‘hair products’. James made a mental note to dig into that box first when morning finally hit.

Whether the boys realized it or not, his regimen was more crucial now than ever. He thought back to the events earlier today and the impossibly beautiful up and coming stars that lounged around the Palm Woods. What made him special back home, his dazzling smile, piercing eyes and washboard abs, it was all part of the everyday here in California.

And if everything he worked so hard for was mundane here, what did that make him? He rolled over in his bed, tugging the comforter tighter around his shoulders almost as if the blanket would protect him from the frantic thoughts plaguing him.

Nothing about him was average, he refused to believe that. He can remember as far back as when he and the other boys were just starting as members of the junior hockey league, that he had also had his mind set on performing. Back then he had to beg and plead his mother for permission for singing and dance lessons. She argued that his schedule was already too full and his education would fall to the wayside, but after countless carefully constructed presentations on the benefits of these lessons and promises that Logan would tutor him, she relented.

He remembered how the boys used to tease him about the lessons when they were younger, jokes and jabs at their regular Friday night sleepovers at Carlos’. James knew they never meant any of it though because on the evening of his very first talent show, he peeped out of the curtain to see them sitting in the front row with the widest grins imaginable.

It was that night that he had finally decided this was his calling. Just seven years old, singing John Mayer and dazzling the crowd like he was born to. He lived off the high long after the song was finished and the curtains had fallen shut.

When he finally made his way back to everyone, the boys descended on him, each talking over the other in so much excitement about how cool he was and how he should have won over the unicycling juggler. His mother hadn’t been able to make the performance, a last minute work emergency she claimed. He didn’t let that get to him though, enjoying the good natured hair ruffling of Papi Garcia, the boys' unabating chattering, and Mama Knight’s promises of pizza. Even then he knew there would be other performances, and he would be so good that she couldn’t miss them.

And he did get better, way better. But was it enough? He could carry a tune, dance any routine that was thrown his way, but could he gain the type of fire that Gustavo was looking for? Failing wasn’t an option, if he turned back to Minnesota his mother would have him on the fast track to business school and this dream would be gone. Failure wasn’t an option, he couldn’t fail, he had to-.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of cold air against his back as the comforter was pulled up and over someone slipping into the bed beside him. Carlos. James didn’t make any move to turn around and face him in the cramped twin bed and chose to stare at the light of the hallway creeping in from under the doorway. He had almost drifted to sleep from listening to the soft breathing from the other boy when Carlos broke the silence.

“I could hear you thinking from over there.” He paused for a moment before adding, “Did you wanna talk about it?”

The last thing he wanted to do was bring all of this worry onto someone else, so James did what he did best, deflected. Rolling over in the bed careful not to knock Carlos to the floor, James sat up and faced the other boy.

“So we might have striked out against the Jennifers, but I doubt they can resist my charms for long. I’ve already come up with a three step plan that will have them dying for a chance to date any member of our band.”

“James-”

“Though side note, we really need to come up with a name and soon. It seriously hurts your cred to say you’re in a band without a name and-”

“Look I-”

James just continued to press on hoping Carlos would get the hint to drop it, “Maybe if we learn some instruments, we could get in on that gig that that guitar dude seems to have going on at the pool, I mean chicks dig musicians.”

Carlos pulled himself into a sitting position beside James, raising his hand up to signal him to stop.

“It’s okay James, I’m scared too.”

And that was not exactly what James expected to hear.

“You don’t get scared. Just last week I watched you ride your mountain bike off of the top of Kendall’s house into their above ground pool. And let’s not forget the time you took one for the team and took Jenny Tinkler to homecoming.” He shuddered at the memory of her knocking over the snack table and somehow setting the DJ equipment on fire. “It’s hard to believe you’d get scared about anything.”

There’s a moment of silence between them before Carlos replies, “This is kinda different, ya know? Reckless behavior and wacky shenanigans? I can handle that no problem, but this is serious. And I’ve never been that great at serious.” He scratches his neck nervously, and looks off to the side. “I don’t want to ruin your dream dude.”

“You wouldn’t and you can’t.” He stretched his arm around the other boy’s shoulders, pulling him gently to his side. “It’s because of you guys that I even got the opportunity to be here, my dream wouldn’t work without everyone.”

He felt Carlos shake with laughter slightly before he replied, “Well technically we’re here because of Kendall, but I’ll take the sentiment cause it's a weirdly emotional night.”

James just rolled his eyes, though thankful that Carlos pulled them back from all the emotion talk. He wasn’t wrong, Kendall was the driving force of all this. He had the ‘fire’ as Gustavo called it. He would just describe it as stubbornness and a sheer lack of respect for authority, but somehow Kendall made those qualities seem endearing.

The door to the room creaked open bathing Carlos and James in the hallway light, the pair both shielding their eyes to adjust to the change in brightness. Just as quickly as it was opened, it shut again, quietly as to not wake up the other people in the apartment. Even after being partially blinded James knew that Kendall and Logan were approaching the bed, he’d know them anywhere.

“Any chance you have room for two more?” Kendall asked, already pulling himself onto the bed. The springs under it groaned as he and Logan shifted to get comfortable facing James and Carlos at the foot of the bed. For a moment James wondered just how much the weight limit was for this rickety bed frame.

“You guys couldn’t sleep either?” James questioned as he and Carlos pulled the comforter over the other two boys' legs.

“It isn’t actually that weird that we all can’t sleep. Scientists believe that this is just our brains natural instinct to protect itself in a new environment full of unforeseen threats. It makes a lot of sense when you think about it.” He glanced around at the other boys on the bed taking note of the way James was holding one of his pillows tightly to his chest, and Carlos was picking at a loose thread on the comforter. “Something tells me though, that we are all awake because of more than first night jitters.”

There was something a little comforting to James, that all of them were nervous about the future. Sometimes he forgot that even though Kendall was their fearless leader, Carlos was their wrecking ball with a heart of gold, and Logan was their resident genius, they were all still four hockey heads from Minnesota and completely out of their comfort zone.

From across the bed James saw Kendall straighten his posture and he knew immediately that they were in for one of his famous pep talks.

“So what if everyone here is a better singer or dancer than we are. And who cares if every person we come across is more attractive and talented. And who-”

James quickly introjected, “Is this going to get positive anytime soon?”

“I was getting to that.” Kendall replied with a roll of his eyes, “My point is there are always going to be people who are better than we are. It’s a given, but we all have something that everyone here doesn’t.”

“Lightning Fever Barracuda hair gel.”, “Mama Knight’s signature corn dog recipe.” “A death wish.”

“No. What I was getting at is look around. Even out of our depth, we still have each other. The stakes might be higher for sure, but we are still together setting out our game plans dog piled into one bed just like when we were kids. And I don’t know about you, but I think that is a hell of an advantage over anyone in Hollywood.”

And that is why he’s the leader James concluded. Some heartfelt words and an earnest smile, and Kendall could convince them they could do anything. It seemed silly to him that he had been so worried earlier in the night. Looking around at the other boys in the dim moonlight, he realized that he wasn’t in this alone. And even if this didn’t work out, he knows there are three people who would never let him feel like a failure.

“Well since I doubt any of us will feel like sleeping anytime soon, does anyone have some band name ideas? I’m thinking something like James and the Diamonds.”

He saw the good natured eye rolls from across the bed and felt Carlos groan from his spot under James arm. It felt good to get back to normal and he eagerly slipped into their own routine, bickering about what really qualified as a solid band name.

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

“Please, please can I wake them up? One smack of the pot that’s all.”

In the morning light, Mama Knight stood in the doorway observing the scene before her. She had gone to Logan and Kendall’s room first, but when the room was empty she had a feeling this is where they would be.

All four boys were tucked under the comforter of the twin sized bed, practically asleep sitting up. She smiled softly to herself, noting that the more things change, the more they stay the same.

She shook her head, gently leading Katie from the room, “Let them sleep a little while longer, they have a long road ahead of them.”

[bellismaperry]

TIME COPS [loki fanfic]

NOTES: sup my dudes. this idea for this fanfic has been on my mind since the pictures of Loki as TVA agent were shown. my grammar is not very good my first language is not english but spanish. so if you see a mistake i’m sorry i’ll keep learning as i go. I hope you guys love this story and have a great escape as we wait for that loki trailer and new set pics!! any way enjoy!! Let me know if you want to be tagged for the next chapter!!. <3

SUMMERY: when a witch named sabina is partner with god of mischief to save what we call time. things can only get better or worse. in this case it can be the unknown.

WARNINGS: swearing, mention of blood, death and choking

**PAIRINGS: **loki x main character

**------------------------------------------------------------------ **

**CHAPTER ONE - THE OFFICE **

the cup of coffee that warms my hands and take sips of it as i look around what this people calls office. this place is insane. its like Costco warehouse in drugs. what they do here its not sales or marketing. this is something you see out of a movie

in each desk there was a person with a computer on which they had a case on. you would see them typing like maniacs. In a normal thinking you thought they were working on reports or run downs. But no. they were in fact saving time and keeping it in order. you may ask, where were they when thanos snapped his fingers and half of the universe turned into ash. well same question i have. and i did ask when i was questioned as when i was brought in. the respond that i got was a simple “time will tell”. All this time related shit is staring to annoy me. real hard.

I’m doing what we call in earth community service. i didn’t commit any type of crime whats so ever. i’m here cause the dick bag of my dad decided he was some type of thanos wanna be and tried to mess with dark power and messed up time. now, they couldn’t get there hands on him since he clothed himself so they got the next big thing, me. yay. iv’e never met the man, he left mom and me when i was three years old. not even a photograph i have. yet they think that i can be a tool on bringing him in. i personally don’t know were the accusing me of his crimes fits in you’re going to help us bring him in. but when you see the things they can do with just a wave of their hand. you will comply.

so i sit in my sad desk. my computer is shut down, they yet given me a case. it’s been over a month since been here. all i do is sip my coffee and see my surrounding, i can’t use my magic, the silver bracelet in my right wrist is the cause of that. well here i can’t use it. but in the ‘apartment’ they gave me i can. its the only time i’m bored to death. i only sleep 2 hours if i’m being honest, if i can find my dad faster than they can, then the faster i can get out here and forget all of this. I tried every location spell i know of memory and none were successful. the scars in my hand of the many times i had to cut my hand for blood its stupid. but you are forced out in the way i was and put here to listen and comply like a dog then you will too do anything you can to get out of here. what ever spell he used to hide is a really damn good one. but without my book of shadows theres not many things i can do.

right now it was 12 of clock. in which indicates lunch time. theres a cafeteria were all the employe’s go to eat lunch. i for one enjoy going to lunch. its the onetime where i’m not bored. plus in the month that i have been here i have made a friend. Carlos is a tan guy with brown eyes and hair with glasses. he is funny and occasionally a little paranoid. he was the only one who sat with me in my fist day here. now we laugh about the stupid things people do here and all. the good gossip about who had sex with who.

i sit down on my usual table and Carlos comes with his tray of food. “hey sab, how was you’re day is going”

I sigh and start playing the jello i had in my cup. “same old same old. bored to death and no case it all. you know i’m starting to think that all of this community service is a bunch of bullshit. how can you not made me do anything but drink coffee for a whole month.”

Carlo nods “it is fishy. did you ask commander about it?”

“i did and he said. that soon he will have a task for me and that for now enjoy my free time. whatever that means.”

commander was like the manager here. he orders us around and set the missions or cases. he was the one who questioned me when i got here. blue eyes blonde hair and pedo mustache. the boss, is unknown. no ones knows who he is, or has ever seen them only commander.

Carlos looks to his sides and leans over the table “ I wasn’t going to tell you until i confirmed it was official. but what you just said confirmed it. that soon can be as early as tomorrow. I heard from special forces they have a big mission two hours from now. the orders is to maintain and obtain. and according to my friend what ever they obtain there going to give it to you. its something about you have some same abilities like the thing there were going to obtain”

i lick my lips “ are you sure about that”

he nods. whatever they were going to obtain was magical for sure. something that has same abilities as me? what that could possibly be.

“then i guess i have to prepare” i say as i take of spoonful of the jello and eat it.

“sab please promise me that you will actually sleep more than two hours. you will need you’re strength for whatever this is.” carlo pleads.

i shake my head. “I can’t promise you that. I’m going to do one last location spell with a combination of a reverse cloaking spell. I think this time will work”

“can’t you do that the day after tomorrow. you need to sleep sab and to top all you will need use you’re magic for whatever their going to give you. if you don’t have strength you could die of that over using power” he worries

“don’t you think i know that. I have studied this since i can talk. i know what i’m doing. I need to do this tonight, i don’t if i’m going to be able after they give the task. I promise after this no more.” i take his hand and squeeze it. he cares for me and i for him. he’s the only person who has helped me here. Carlos is like brother to me people like him don’t come often.

“you better sab. I worry for you and you know that” he says with still worries in his eyes.

I smile and let of his hand. “ I know”

**At the apartment **

i sit down at the floor with candle’s around me and map of the world infront of me. i take a knife and slide it across my palm as i let the blood drip on the map, i close my eyes and start my chant. Phasmatos Tribum Nas Ex Veras, Sequita Saguine, Ementas Asten Mihan Ega Petous .

i open my eyes and i see that my blood has not moved it all. I shake my head and try again but the form with of the cloaking spell. I close my eyes once again i take a deep breath and start to chant once again _Phasmatos Tribum Nas Transmata Evo Notus Victus, Pellis Tinctura, Invidium Cala Mactus Sequita Saguine, Ementas Asten Mihan Ega Petous _

once again i open my eyes and i see nothing has happen. “AHH” I yell as i trow one of the candles against the wall. i have tried everything i know by memory. if i can’t find him with my own blood how in the hell they are going to find him. I’m tired of being here. its sad and dark. No windows, only a tv and two rooms a bathroom and a kitchen. i miss my grandma, i miss my life. i’m being used like pawn until they find use of me. I hate it. I hate it so much.

i get up from the floor to walk over to bathroom and clean the new wound i have in my palm. as i clean the cut i start to think what they could have in store of me in just of couple of hours. if carlos was right and this thing was magical it could help me locate my dead beat of a dad. maybe. i take a towel and dry my hands. I look over to the clock on the wall and it reads 1am. at least i will get five hours of sleep this time...

------

in the morning 

when i woke up, I sit up my bed and looked my self in the mirror. I am tired, but so tired. Carlos was right. I couldn’t have done that spell i’m way too tired. I walk over to closet and i start putting on the ugly ass uniform they made us wear. who ever told this people that a tie and cream shirt was formal needs to choke on their own spit. I brush my hair and clean my teeth. I move over to the kitchen were i make my self some coffee. 

I hear a knock on my door. I sigh and i walk over to open the door. that knock means that it was time to go to “work”. every morning a suit up guards comes here and escorts me over to the office. honestly i don’t mind it. kinda feels like i’m beyonce or something.

i open the door. “ hey Greg. what’s up” i say taking a sip of my coffee 

greg smiles and “come on, the commander has a task for you”

I tilt my head. “really?” he nods. “yea, so hurry up.”

I nod my head and close the door behind me. Greg was cool. he’s like the bodyguard type like in the princess diaries that kinds feels like a dad figure. also on Fridays he lets me sleep in an hour extra so he’s tight. 

when we arrive to the office and escorted to the commanders office. I open up the door and walk in. the commander looks up to me and smiles.”good morning Sabina. I want you to meet you’re new partner. Mr. Odinson” 

I look over to the chair infront of the desk to see a man stand up and turn around to great me and when i saw that man give that smile, i knew. 

it was the bitch who destroyed mahattan.

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I hope you liked the first chapter of TIME COPS!!. pls give me some feed back and if you want to be tagged for next time i post pls pls tell me. if theres some grammar errors i am so so sorry i am still learning and my first language is not english. 

see you next chapter!!! love you bu’s!! <3

[hurtfm]

                                          〔  MADISON BAILEY, 22, CIS FEMALE 〕                                         ╰  TROYE KENNEDY  just  came  over  half - blood  hill .  you  know ,  the  child  of  APOLLO  who  was  claimed  three  months  ago ?  i’ve  heard  chiron  say  that  she  is  PASSIONATE & WARM ,  but  if  you  ask  the  aphrodite  kids ,  they’d  say  they’re  MEDDLESOME & NAIVE .  i’d  say  they  remind  me  of  hearing  whispers  in  the  wind  that  no  one  else  seems  to  notice ,   leaving  kiss  marks  on  a  love letter ,   quietly  humming  while  doing  chores ,  especially  since  they’re  FOR THE NEW CABINS .       

hello  beans !   i’m  weachy   &   this  right  here  is  troye  kennedy .   she  is  a  brand  spankin’  new  muse   &   i’m  so  excited  to  figure  her  out  as  time  goes  on !   however ,   what  i  do  know  about  her  is  under  the  cut .   trigger  warning  for  slight  mentions  of  injury   &   excessive  rambling  as  i  truthfully  don’t  know  when  to  shut  up   ––   like  right  now !   anyways ,   as  always ,   if  you  would  like  to  plot  with  her ,   go  ahead  and   press  that  little  heart  to  the  side   &   i’ll  snake  into  your  ims !   i’m  so  excited  to  be  here  and  join  all  of  you !

full name :  troye  brightly  kennedy date  of  birth :  march  18th ,  1998   (  making  her  a  pisces  ) gender :   cis  female pronouns :  she / her sexual  orientation :  bisexual  /  biromantic goldy  parent  :  apollo  (  god of music ,  poetry ,  healing ,  medicine ,  archery  ) family  :  apollo  (  father  )  ,  tawni  kennedy  (  mother  )  ,  brother  wc  up  on  the  main . playlist :  aint  no  sunshine  (  bill  withers  )  ,  sweet  creature  (  harry  styles  )  ,  talking  to  the  moon  (  bruno  mars  )  ,  i  hope  you  dance  (  lee  ann  womack  )  ,  &  dust  to  dust  (  the  civil  wars  ) influences : jenny  humphrey  (  gossip  girl  /  solely  season  one  jenny  no  other  jenny’s  exist  to  me  )  ,  maria  (  from  the  song  maria  maria  by  carlos  santana  )  ,  nadia  shanaa  (  elite  )  ,  &  donna  sheridan  (  mamma  mia  )   tropes :  ingenue  &  girl  next  door pinterest :  linked  here !

01 .  past .

   troye’s  like  was  everything  ordinary  half  a  year  ago .   well ,  as  ordinary  as  it  came .   she  had  an  older  brother   &   a  mother   &   they  lived  in  uptown ,   a  chicago  suburb .   there  wasn’t  much  talk  about  her  and  her  brother’s  fathers .   they’d  always  known  they  were  half  siblings ,   but  any  attempt  to  ask  their  mother  about  them ,   they  were  quickly  shut  down .   by  the  time  both  of  them  were  in  school ,   it  seemed  as  though  life  had  gotten  much  harder .   it  was  extremely  hard  for  them  to  focus ,   and  they  figured  the  dyslexia  was  a  trait  passed  down  by  their  mother .

   school  was  absolutely  difficult  for  troye .   she  wasn’t  interested  in  math  or  history   &   she  sure  as  hell  struggled  in  most  active  parts  of  her  schooling .   however ,   in  music  class ,   it  was  almost  as  if  the  music  moved  her ,   she  swayed  and  felt  the  notes  in  her  bones .   almost  as  if  listening  to  music  gave  her  the  energy  to  survive  a  strenuous  day .   as  she  went  through  school ,   making  her  do  her  homework  was  like  pulling  teeth ,   but  place  a  guitar  in  her  hand  and  she’d  go  on  for  days .

   as  for  her  mother ,   she  was  gone  quite  a  bit .   she  was  raising  two  children  on  her  own   &   had  to  provide  for  them  as  well  as  her  elderly  mother .   so  when  troye  was  not  struggling  through  school ,   she  was  typically  playing  music  for  her  grandmother  and  doing  other  adult  /   motherly  things  around  the  house .   by  the  time  she  was  twelve ,   she  could  have  been  classified   as  a  master  chef .

   only  six  months  ago  did  she  notice  an  extreme   (  what  she  thought  was  a  change  )   in  behavior .   she  had  barely  graduated  high  school   &   college  wasn’t  exactly  something  she  desired  to  complete .   instead ,   she  spent  her  time  volunteering  at  a  children’s  home  when  her  mother  and  brother  were  off  working .   she  took  her  grandmother  with  her ,   and  would  sing  songs  and  tell  stories  and  help  them  with  all  things  she  was  confident  in   ––   poetry  &  music .   however ,  one  incident  occurred  with  a  child .   unknowingly ,   she  held  the  child  and  began  to  sing .   when  the  child’s  scrapes  and  bruises  were  completely  gone ,   she  truthfully  didn’t  know  what  to  think .

   that  night ,   she  confronted  her  mother  with  her  new  found  knowledge .   it  was  only  then  that  she’d  come  forward  with  the  truth .   troye  was  a  demi  god   &   her  father  was  apollo .   troye  had  less  than  three  months  to  handle  this  new  found  knowledge  and  research  and  read  things  about  her  father  before  she  was  claimed  by  him   &   started  attending  camp .   as  a  new  camper ,   she  has  no  idea  what  she’s  getting  herself  into .

02 .  present .

  it’s  been  three  months  jam  packed  with  learning  the  knowledge  of  demi  gods   &   learning  of  the  issues  that  camp  half  blood  held .   it  seemed  obvious  to  her   ––   being  all  inclusive  was  only  fair   ––   besides ,   why  wish  troubles  on  those  just  because  you  dealt  with  them ?   she’d  never  blinked  at  the  possibility  that  not  everyone  she  be  treated  fairly .

   over  the  last  three  months ,   troye  has  been  working  on  learning  about  her  gifts  that  she  didn’t  know  about  before   (  or  didn’t  make  a  connection  to  )   she  realized  she  was  a  demi  god .   she  focused  on  the  medicine  aspect  of  her  powers   as  well  as  further  into  the  explanation  as  to  how  she  was  able  to  heal  that  child .   also ,  very  recently ,   she’s  taken  up  archery ,   and  discovering  her  gifts  with  that .   despite  never  really  being  an  active  child  and  rather  a  creative  mind ,   she  has  chosen  to  take  all  of  her  gifts  and  run  with  them ,   to  excel  and  express  herself  through  all  of  them .

03 .  personality .

   the  best  way  to  describe  her  personality  is  through  the  song  maria  maria  by  carlos  santana .   she  would  happily  give  the  clothes  off  her  back  for  anyone  she  passed  and  has  spent  the  past  twenty - two  years  of  her  life  doing  just  that .   she’d  rather  spend  her  entire  life  volunteering  and  helping  other’s  than  get  an  ounce  of  credit  for  anything  she’s  done .

   still ,   at  camp  half  blood ,   she  is  overly  protective  and  mother  like  to  anyone  she’s  met  so  far .   kind ,   down  to  earth ,   and  gentle  seem  to  be  the  most  common  phrases  people  use  to  describe  her .   fighting  is  not  her  specialty  and  something  she  definitely  does  not  excel  in  at  camp  half  blood  but  she’s  determined  to  work  on  it .   despite  her  gentle  spirit ,   being  upbeat  is  not  really  her  style .   she  is  more  of  the  type  to  have  a  soft  spoken  voice  and  only  say  what  needs  to  be  said  rather  than  filing  awkward  silences  with  words .

04 .  instances  of  her  powers  in  every  day  life .

looking  back  on  it  and  knowing  the  truth ,   troye  can’t  picture  how  she  didn’t  put  it  together :

   archery  expertise   –––   this  was  the  last  puzzle  piece  she  put  together .   it  wasn’t  exactly  an  archery  past  that  she  remembered ,   but  more  so  how  great  she’s  been  at  darts  her  whole  life .   they  had  a  dart  board  in  her  house  for  a  short  amount  of  time .   (   a  boyfriend  of  her  mother’s  had  moved  in  and  it  was  something  he  enjoyed   )  .   she’d  never  lost  when  they  played ,   and  looking  back  now  her  expertise  in  aim  definitely  aided  that .    vitakinesis   –––   this  was  described  in  an  above  section .    audiokinesis   –––   this  was  more  of  an  internal  thing  than  external .   any  songs  she  heard ,   she  could  manipulate  them  in  her  thoughts .   until  she  got  to  camp  half  blood ,   she  was  sure  that  everyone  could  do  it .   it  was  her  own  way  of  basically  remixing  songs  in  her  head ,   and  being  able  to  completely  replicate  them  the  second  she  picked  up  an  instrument .       excelling  in  the  arts   –––   the  biggest  give  away  for  this  is  the  fact  that  she  has  had  perfect  pitch  since  she  was  a  baby .   she  can  know  any  note  that  is  spoken  or  sang  the  instant  it  flows  from  one’s  mouth .

05 .  wanted  connections .

she  has  not  been  at  camp  long ,   but  disliking  her  isn’t  really  common ?   so  i’d  suspect  she  has  quite  a  bit  of  friends  as  well  as  those  that  might  share  her  interests .   she  also  loves  helping  so  if  your  muse  is  at  all  interested  in  music  or  needs  help  in  any  way ,   she  would  love  to  assist .   i  would  also  love  if  she  had  someone  assigned  to  her  to  help  train  her  to  fight  /   teach  her  aggression ?   that’s  not  really  something  that  comes  easily  to  her .   because  she’s  new ,   she  doesn’t  have  as  many  past  relationships ,  but  i  would  imagine  her  having  a  fwb  but  the  benefit  is  friendship  sorta  thing ?   she’s  a  dweeb ,  n  e  ways .

[fairestevies]

home isn’t a place, it’s a feeling | evie x doug

A few sweet moments in the months leading up to graduation, including Evie’s fashion business, “starter castle,” and Doug’s new band.

February

Evie sighed as she hung up the gowns she was working on for the night. She loved making dresses for everyone, but it was beginning to get a little overwhelming with graduation only a few months away. Not only was she focused on the gowns, but she still had a couple exams to study for, and had to figure out how to bring some of the other VKs over to Auradon. Needless to say, she was exhausted by the end of each day.

She flopped onto her bed, looking gloomily at Mal’s side of the room. It had been pretty empty recently, with Mal being just as busy as Evie. Being a lady of the court was no joke- she usually had a meeting of some sort every day, in different parts of Auradon. She hadn’t used her spell book once since the whole cotillion incident, and Evie was proud of that. Not to mention, Mal was getting to spend a lot of time with Ben.

Evie pulled out her notebook and added another thing to her to-do list: Talk to Doug about the proposal

Ben was planning to propose to Mal after graduation and asked Evie and Doug to be a part of the musical arrangements. Evie smiled to herself, she was so happy for her friends. Mal was going to love it.

She reached over to put her sketchbook back on her desk, but a few scraps of paper fell out. She knew exactly what they were before she even opened them. Her name was written neatly across each folded piece of paper, which she kept inside her notebook for whenever she needed to be cheered up. They were her notes from Doug, ranging from poems to inside jokes to silly stick figure drawings.

Evie smiled sadly as she opened up one of the poems. Along with Evie being busy with her business and school, Doug had been practicing late with the marching band most nights.

Evie turned to look at her clock- 9:55. Doug was usually finished around 10, so she should have a chance to talk to him as he walked back to the dorms. For now, she turned back to the poem she held in her hand. This was one of her favorites, but they were all really good. Not many people knew it, but Doug was super talented. He had a way with words, could play almost any instrument, ace a chemistry test in his sleep, and was the perfect business partner (and boyfriend, of course).

Just as she finished reading the note, her phone rang.

“Hi!” Evie chimed, as she answered Doug’s call.

“Hey Eve,” Doug smirked from the other end. “What’s up?”

Evie told him all about the dresses she was working on, and how she had crunched most of the numbers, which of course he offered to help with. Doug told her about his practice and the routine they were working on for the upcoming family events and graduation ceremonies. They liked to talk things out like this, as the other often had good ideas of what could be added or amended.

“I’m back in my room now, so I’m gonna go shower,” Doug explained. “I’ll come by tomorrow, and we can work on Evie’s4Hearts stuff?”

Evie agreed, chewing on her lip as they said goodnight. She got up and changed into her pajamas before laying back down on her bed. She couldn’t fall asleep yet, as she knew what was going to happen next.

A few moments passed before she heard a knock on the door. She answered to see a squeaky clean Doug with a smile on his face.

“You know it doesn’t count as a surprise if you come to kiss me goodnight every night?” Evie teased, gesturing for Doug to come in.

“Oh, so you want me to stop?” Doug teased back, grabbing her hand as he walked in and pulling her close.

Evie shook her head before hugging him back and burying her head in his chest, “Of course not.”

Doug smiled as he kissed the top of her head, something he could only do when she wasn’t wearing her usual heeled boots. They stayed like that for a minute, winding down after a long day.

Doug had noticed how Evie had been a little more down than usual. He sensed it had something to do with the talk of graduation starting to rise, but he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of, however, was that he was going to be there when she needed him. His nightly visits were his way of making sure she knew this.

Evie finally looked up and pressed her lips to his. “You should probably go before Fairy Godmother catches you out past curfew,” she mumbled.

Doug sighed and kissed her back one last time. “Goodnight Evie,” he said as he started to move towards the door.

“Night,” she followed, closing the door behind him.

She turned back towards her bed, noticing a new folded piece of paper on the floor, her name written across the front in the same familiar handwriting.

She rolled her eyes, and her smile widened as she picked it up.

She felt so lucky.  __________________________________________________________________

March

Evie sat upright on her bed as Doug strummed his guitar from her desk chair. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched him, so focused on the notes. Ben had wanted them to take the song that he performed for Mal when he was spelled and slow it down for the proposal. Doug had been working on the arrangement for a while, and he was playing it for Evie’s approval before he taught it to the band.

“It’s perfect,” she admitted as he strummed the last note. “Doug, you’re so talented. MIT (Magical Institute Training) is so lucky to have you as their Drum Major.”

Evie’s smile fell slightly after she spoke. Graduation was approaching faster each day, and everything was changing so fast. Jay and Doug were heading off to separate colleges, Mal and Ben were embarking on a tour of the kingdom, and Lonnie was going to play R.O.A.R. as a professional, but thankfully Carlos and Jane would still be attending Auradon Prep.

Evie wasn’t exactly sure what her future was going to look like. She and Doug had spoken about this a little, but she didn’t really have a place to go. She wasn’t sure if she had enough money to buy a castle yet, but she wanted to stay in Auradon and continue working on Evie’s4Hearts and getting more VKs into Auradon Prep. She saw college as a possibility in her future, but for now, her top priority was getting kids off the Isle.

“And Auradon is lucky to have you as their number one fashion designer,” Doug added, moving to sit next to her.

Evie nodded, her smile back in full effect. “And the number one council member in support of the VK initiative.”

Doug smirked, “And you called me talented?” He threw his arm over her shoulder as they both giggled. “I was gonna wait and tell you next weekend.... but I have a surprise.”

Evie turned to look at him, curiosity dazzling in her eyes.

“I know you’ve been worried about having a place to stay next year, but I looked over the numbers again and Evie, I think we can make it work. I found this one place that I think could be really great-“

Evie cut him off with a kiss. “Thank you,” She exclaimed, hugging him tightly.

Doug pulled her over towards the computer, and as he typed, pictures of Evie’s perfect “starter castle” filled the screen. She stood behind him, arms hugging his chest and chin resting on his shoulder as they looked through the pictures, smiling and imagining the purposes for each room.

“I can’t believe it!” Evie cheered, standing up and twirling around her room. “I’m finally gonna have my own castle!”

Doug spun around and grabbed his guitar, strumming some notes and creating a silly “Evie’s getting a castle” song. They both laughed and continued to mess around until they heard a “Knock it off!” come from the hall. 

They felt so alive.

__________________________________________________________________

April

“Okay so that’s 6 new dresses,” Evie spoke aloud as she scribbled the orders furiously in her notebook. With much of her money going towards a castle, her and Doug had been putting in extra work with Evie’s4Hearts to make up for it. 

Doug stood by the clothing rack, tagging her recent creations with one hand and calculating the numbers in the other.

“Eve, you still have a month,” he reminded her, hoping to alleviate some of her stress.

“I know, I know,” she responded, even though a month really wasn’t that much time. She moved away too quickly, accidentally knocking her notebook onto the floor, sketches flying everywhere.

Evie let out a frustrated groan as she started to gather her sketches, Doug rushing over to help. She sighed and sat on the floor, back against her bed. “Maybe I need to take a lunch break...”

Doug smirked and sat on the floor next to her. “I think that might be helpful.”

She finally let out a small laugh and looked over at him, “When did our lives get so crazy? I swear just the other day our biggest responsibility was studying for Chemistry!”

Doug laughed. “It has always been crazy since you, Mal, Jay, and Carlos arrived to liven things up,” he joked. “Plus, you’ve always been crazy about your sketches,” he added, pulling one out from the pile he had in his hands.

“That turned out to be a pretty nice dress, huh?” She smirked, admiring her old design.

Doug nodded, “But this one has always been my favorite.” He pulled a sketch of Evie’s cotillion dress out of the pile.

She chuckled, her cheeks blushing when she remembered how much fun they had dancing that night. “Making it short was the perfect call considering the amount of water that ended up on the boat!”

They continued to reminisce over some of Evie’s old designs until Doug pulled out one of the poems he’d written. He smiled to himself, knowing she kept them in her sketchbook.

“Now we can admire your work,” she beamed, picking up her favorite one.

“Oh, it’s really nothing-“

“Doug come on, this is really good,” she urged as he looked over it. “Have you ever... have you ever thought about writing songs?”

Doug pondered her question for a second. “Not really, but a few of us were thinking about starting a band this summer, you know, to stay in practice before we head off to school...”

Evie’s eyes widened. “Doug that’s amazing!” She exclaimed, searching for more poems. “Here, take some of these. I know you could turn them into great songs!”

Doug couldn’t help but smile as Evie rambled on about what the band’s look should be. She was so excited to be able to support him in something, just as he had supported her these past few years. He took her hand and continued to listen, reading over the poems. Sure, they were some of his best work, but it’s who inspired them that really mattered.  

He felt so loved.

__________________________________________________________________

May

“Wow, all that castle for such a small price!” Evie exclaimed as she faced her new purchase.

“And it’s not that far from MIT,” Doug added, taking the “For Sale” sign out of the yard and joining her to admire the starter castle.

“Now I know why it was your favorite,” Evie teased grabbing his arm. “But it is perfect, really.”

“I think Dizzy will like it too.”

Evie beamed just thinking about having Dizzy and other VKs staying with her here in only a few months, not to mention how excited she was for Dizzy to meet her friends at Auradon Prep, including Doug. “Oh, she’ll love it.”

Evie honestly couldn’t believe she was here, about to graduate Auradon Prep and now the owner of her own castle in Auradon. She had dreamed of this ever since she was little, although, at that point, she expected to marry a prince to get her there.

“I’m so proud of you.”

Evie looked at Doug, snapping out of her own thoughts and processing his words.

“I love- it!“ she started before catching herself, laughing off the word she almost said. “Let me show you my favorite part!”

Doug allowed himself to be dragged through the side door by Evie. There was a wing on the side of her new home with glass walls, letting in so much natural light.

“It’s the perfect new spot for Evie’s4Hearts,” she marveled, admiring the space.

“I can’t wait to see what you create in here,” Doug gushed, walking up to her from behind to put his hands on her shoulders and give them a squeeze.

Evie blushed, turning around to face him. “I can’t thank you enough for believing in me,” she blurted, almost unaware of the words that had come out of her ruby red lips.

“You don’t have to,” Doug soothed, pulling her close. “I’m your biggest fan!”

Evie giggled. “Mal might argue with you on that one,” she teased, “but I’m your biggest fan.”

Doug kissed her quick as they swayed in the middle of her new fashion studio. Evie’s friends would be arriving soon to check the place out, but for now, they enjoyed the peace and quiet that they knew wouldn’t last long in this house.

Evie was so excited, looking around the room and the halls beyond it. She could see the new VKs running through the halls, full of excitement and energy from trying ice cream for the first time. She could see Doug coming to visit for one of their movie nights, the two of them snuggled up on the couch.  She could see Carlos and Jane coming over to share what’s new at Auradon Prep. She could see Jay coming to visit after one of his tourney games, and Mal coming over for girl time when she needed a break from being Queen. She could see this room full of her designs and creations that were still to come.  

She knew this place was going to be special, but she didn’t know it would be where she would have to wake Doug from a spell with true love’s kiss later this summer, or where he would play her his first song from the poems he’d written in just a few weeks. She didn’t know it would be where they came to celebrate after Doug’s band’s first show, or where she received a school acceptance letter a few years down the line.

Although her starter castle allowed her to stay and make many new memories in Auradon, she knew it wasn’t just the house that made her feel at home, and for that, she was grateful.

They were home.

[harryandhishook]

Wings are made to Fly Chapter 1

Pairing: Not fully sure yet, just gonna see how it goes (Maybe Evie? Don’t know yet)

Setting: The Isle of the Lost, Auradon

Warning: Swearing, Graphic stuff, sad Harry, hurting Harry, blood

Summary: Everyone knows what type of person they are, Fairy, Goblin, Dragon or just a simple person and Harry thinks he’s just a simple guy but the more he comes into contact with Auradon and magic, the more the people around him notice something off and maybe Auradon is the only place with answers

Words: 3064

Requested: Nope, me and my Fiance were roleplaying this and I thought it would be awesome to make it into a Fanfic

Side note: Just so people who read this are aware, I made Chapter 1 and 2 several months ago and I’m only just getting back to it so it may take some time to finish however I am making it my mission to finish it ... hopefully, open to suggestions as to what should happen in the fanfic also, HMU and suggest, University is killing me RN

First // Prev // Next

The Isle of the lost; a place with no magic, no fun and no good. Everyone knew about the types of creatures you got there: dark mermaids, dark fairies, goblins, witches, monsters and even a couple of evil animals, it wasn’t hard to tell who was who or who came from where but sometimes, very rarely, some people always took the Island by surprise with who they really were. Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to actually use the abilities like it was in Auradon.

Most of the time, the children of the Isle would gain the traits from the parents once they were born but there have been a few people who have shown what they were later on in years and one person who never showed anything, a person who everyone thought would never be anything but a young strapping boy, someone by the name of Harry Hook.

The young Hook boy had always suffered from severe back pain, It always seemed like nothing, just normal pains. His shoulder blades were the main problem- no one knew except his family and Uma, his Father thought it was just from him constantly going off to fight on that ship of his, and never actually tried to help him. His sisters, even if they would never admit it, would always drag him to their rooms, demanding him to take off his shirt so they could try and give him some sort of relief, usually with quite rough massages… but at least they tried. Then there was Uma. She was the sweetest one of them all; she was always the one to keep a close eye on him. Whenever he would feel a twinge, she was by his side, her hand on his shoulder blade, slowly rubbing her thumb against the muscles there. It wouldn’t always be the most helpful thing but nevertheless, it was always accepted, and today was no different.

The wind was blowing quite violently on the ship, making the air around them chillier than normal but it didn’t stop the pirates from training, they knew if they were to leave, they would need to know every little bit of knowledge to guide them through the harsh oceans. The water below rocked the boat as it crashed into the wooden structure; the noise it created was almost deafening as the crew threw blows at each other. Harry cautiously walked around, keeping the recruits in line, not taking any bullshit from anyone- this was his job and he would keep up all the little reputations he had made on this ship; nothing would change that.

The cold air crept up the young pirates back, he felt the slow growing pain rise from the little dimples, all the way up to his blades. This was something he felt on a regular basis and something he could easily hide. With a deep breath Harry continued, his bandana wrapped tightly around his dark brown locks as the wind pushed through it. He knew it wouldn’t take long before Uma noticed but for now, the commotion around him was enough to distract the growing pain he felt.

The captain stood above everyone, her normally free flowing hair now wrapped in a tight bun underneath her hat as she watched everything with a sharp eye. The faint sound of clinking swords broke through the noise of the rushing wind around her. She didn’t stop her gaze until the hint of red caught her eye. She turned to watch her first hand walk through the mess of the crew, her face stayed strong but on the inside she couldn’t help but feel the high amount of worry for the pirate below; the wind was too strong and the cold was enough to sting the tips of her fingers. She felt her heart ache as she worried for her friend but she knew he was strong; she knew he wouldn’t want her to worry but deep down, she would.

Without any warning, the wind picked up quickly, the sudden breeze knocking a few people over as the ship rocked harshly in the docks. It didn’t take long before everyone knew they needed to leave the ship and get to the shop for safety. Harry didn’t waste a minute as he ran closer to where Uma stood, gripping onto the frame of ship so she didn’t fly off the side and into the murky water below. He knew he needed to get everyone off the ship before disaster happened.

“UMA! WE NEED TO GET EVERYONE OUT OF HERE NO-AH” Harry shouted before he felt the searing pain in his back take over his entire body, making him fall to his knees as he wrapped his arms tightly around himself. He yelled out as the pain grew worse; this was different than before, it was never as bad as how it felt now but he couldn’t place it, he couldn’t think of any explanation. He tried to think but everything went blurry, his head creating more pain as the pirate tried to get up- but there was no energy in his body anymore. Harry’s leg slipped from under him, causing him to fall against the deck, his body slamming against the wet wooden floor, the pain overwhelming him now. His body shook as he tried to move, unable to hear anything despite everyone shouting his name; all he could hear was a sharp piercing noise, it was all that was ringing in his head, and the last thing he saw was a blur of blue getting larger before his vision went black and he was out.

---

Distant whispers, that’s all that could be heard… at least, it sounded distant, or maybe they were just being quiet … no, the voices were getting louder and louder, not whispers anymore. Eventually, the voices weren’t so quiet anymore as Harry groaned and slowly opened his eyes as much as physically possible for him, the light too much for him to take in as he winced, turning his head as much as he could away from it.

It took the Pirate a while before he finally regained enough consciousness to try and move, his eyes could partially open and he could move his head but it was taking him a lot longer to move different parts of his body. He could hear a soft voice calling his name, it sounded so far away but so close at the same time. A hand slowly pressed against his head, running their soft digits through his now uncovered hair, giving him the reassurance that he wasn’t alone.

Finally, Harry pried open his eyes, everything still blurry, just a group of colours surrounding him. His head felt like someone was hitting it repeatedly with a hammer, the sudden feeling of nausea hitting him as he focused. Everything became ever so slowly clearer to him, he knew he was in a room but … it wasn’t Uma’s or his.

Harry groaned a little louder as he tried to take in his surroundings, his Captain’s face fuzzy in front of him, her eyes filled with worry as she stroked his hair softly. The boy smiled weakly, knowing Uma was with him, to look after him…but that still didn’t explain where he was.

Eventually, Harry turned his head to the other side, looking out into the open space of the room only to spot a tall pirate stood on the other side. It was hard to see who they were until they spoke, obviously not to him since their back was completely turned away,

“I’ve never seen him like this before, he’s always been able to handle it, there must be something wrong” the voice said, it was a female voice, slightly higher pitched than most but whose? “Have you seen anything that’s happened apart from the wind?” the owner of the voice turned, her features becoming clearer. Then it hit him: they were with Harriet, the only other person who actually cared about him enough to help,

“The only thing I can think is the weather, nothing else happened, it could have been anything … although … no, it wouldn’t have been that, couldn’t be, magic can’t get through.” This time it was Uma’s voice. Harry tried his hardest to keep his concentration on anything but himself. The pain started again causing him to whimper, gripping the ripped up bed sheet beneath him. This only made the two girls grow more concerned as they rushed to try and calm him, Harriet placing a damp cloth against his head as she directed her question once again to Uma,

“Whatever it is, it might help us figure this out. Please Uma, tell me what’s going on, did anything happen like this before?” she asked, worry laced in her voice as she subtly pleaded for Uma to help her. Uma sighed as she watched Harry try his hardest to keep calm,

“It wasn’t this bad but … a while ago … a few times, I’ve had to force him to take the day off, get some rest, sleep, eat, take a relaxing bath, anything” she took a small pause before finally finding her voice to speak, “The first time it happened was when Carlos blew a hole in the dome. It wasn’t too bad, just some bad twinges, then when Mal and her crew left and when another hole was blown into the barrier, after that, nothing for almost six months until Mal came back, it started again., I lost count how many times it happened but it just kept going, throughout the few days they were all back … you don’t think it has anything to do with magic leaking in … do you?” Uma asked, confused, the pieces fitting together a little as she watched Harry take deep breathes, his eyebrows knitting together, obviously trying his hardest to fight the pain,

“It could but there isn’t anyway to check, we can’t just walk over to Auradon and ask … unless … you guys go to Auradon prep, it sounds stupid since it’s all snobs and good guys but maybe you can find out what’s wrong, maybe, just maybe, it could make Harry better” Harriet admitted, as much as she hated it, maybe Auradon was a good thing for once.

After a while of the girls talking, Harry finally conjured up enough energy to slowly sit up, groaning as he did. Everything seemed back to normal, well, except for the pain at least. The red clad pirate glanced towards the teal haired girl, giving her a small smile as he sat there for a moment, breathing softly, keeping himself calm before he finally spoke. His voice was a little hoarse but still audible,

“Normally I wouldn’t admit this myself … but Harriet has a point. They have magic, they can help, whatever this pain is, it feels like something inside wants out and I can’t live with it anymore, it’s too much,” he said, moving slowly to dangle his legs off the side of the bed. He had nothing left here, what’s the harm in trying.

As if on cue, three men wearing almost blindingly bright uniforms opened the door, marching into the room and standing smartly in front of them, causing all three villain kids to stare in confusion and disgust; too much colour, too much … good. Finally, the man in front stepped forward, speaking as if he was addressing someone higher than him,

“Mr. Harry Hook, we represent His Majesty, King Ben of Auradon, we are here to invite you on personal demand by the King to attend Auradon, you, the Daughter of Ursula and the Son of Gaston” the man reached out his arm, handing the pirate a scroll wrapped in ribbon and held together with the royal seal. Slowly, the dark haired boy took it in his own hands, snapping the seal as he went to read it, only to be interrupted by his sister,

“I swear, these people are spying on us, how the hell did they know we were all in here?” she asked, making Harry almost drop the scroll, his hand covering his mouth as he tried to suppress the laugh that was coming. The young pirate playfully glared at his sister as he slowly opened the letter, reading it aloud,

“Harry, Uma and Gil … or whoever read this first, I want to invite all three of you to Auradon prep, blah blah blah, boring stuff … I believe that all three of you could make a difference and well, it’s getting a little boring over here, but don’t tell anyone I said th…. I probably shouldn’t have said that bit out loud” Harry finished, looking up at the men who were still in front of him, waiting for an answer. The Pirate boy looked to Uma, maybe going wasn’t a good idea, they probably wouldn’t be able to help and he knew Uma always knew what to do but when all Uma did was give him a small push to answer yes, he realized there was no way out of it.

Harry sighed as he turned his gaze to the ground, contemplating with himself what was actually best for him. His Captain and his sister both agreed, it was the best for him right now; he couldn’t believe he was going to do this. The young pirate raised his head, sitting up as straight as he possibly could to give off his normal demeanour when he answered,

“Alright, we’ll go. But don’t expect us to be the goody two shoes you want us to be though.” He smirked, trying to joke like his old self, slowly pushing himself from the bed to stand in front of them. He was ready to take their instruction but his body still had different plans. Once his legs were firmly on the ground, a shooting pain ran through his body, causing him to scream out in agony and fall, everyone in the room jumping to catch him. One of the men had managed to grab him in their arms before he hit the hard ground and was now sat himself, his arms wrapped around Harry as the boy leaned against him, panting and groaning in pain. Uma jumped to action and grabbed her hat.

“I’ll be back soon, we’re leaving immediately, I’ll gather as many things as we need.” And with that, she was gone out of the door. Harry laid there shaking, sweat rolling down his forehead as he gripped onto the guards’ arm.

“What’s wrong with him?” One of the men asked, concern easily recognizable in his voice as they all watched the scene before them. The young pirate was about to answer for himself but a loud hiss of pain broke through his teeth instead, causing Harriet to come to the rescue.

“Please, help him, we don’t know what’s happened! It’s been getting worse and worse and it has something to do with magic, I know it, help him and make him better … please, I can’t lose my brother.” She pleaded as she took one of Harrys hands in hers, trying her best not to break down in front of everyone. She decided to tell everyone everything she knew, hoping they would understand. She relayed everything Harry and Uma had told her, everything she had seen growing up, no detail left out as the men listened.

It didn’t take long before Uma came back with bags filled with clothing and Gil, all the while Harry had once again sat up on his own, his breathing still a little ragged but he was stable enough to leave. Two of the men helped Uma take the bags and load them into the awaiting car while the third Guard and Harriet carefully picked Harry up from the floor, making sure to keep any and/or all weight off his feet. A few moments later, they finally had the car sat up and Harry carefully sat in the back with Gil, Uma and the Guard who had caught him. Harry had learnt his name was Maximus, or Max for short, but the young pirate made it clear that he didn’t care, even though he would easily admit that it calmed him down learning it.

With one last look outside the window, giving Harriet a small wave, the car set off forward, on request of Max, slow and steady. The world passed by, their old home was trailing away behind them as they drew closer and closer to the bridge. Max reassured them that it would all be okay. Only, it wasn’t; it was about to get much worse.

The car crossed the beginning of the bridge.

The button was pressed.

The Barrier opened.

An ear-piercing scream of agony filled the back of the car as Harry lurched forward to the floor, curling into a ball as he clawed at the carpet, everyone’s eyes widening as they watched the Son of Hook’s eyes glisten with tears and loud sobs escape his throat. Max slipped to the floor and pulled Harry onto him, gripping him as close as he could to try and calm him but nothing was working as the pirate clawed at his uniform.

“Help me take his coat off now.” Max ordered as he grabbed hold of one of the sleeves, trying his hardest to pull it off of Harry. Uma jumped into action immediately and held Harry’s arm as steady as she possibly could.

The coat finally came off, with difficulty, but it was off and in Uma’s hands; but it wasn’t the only thing there. The young Sea Witch stared in shock at her now blood covered hands, his coat was dripping with it. All eyes moved up to stare at the white shirt covering Harry that was now stained pure red, blood trailing down to the floor as if something was ripping him open. Uma watched as her friend took one last look at her, speaking in soft, scared whimpers,

“H-Help me…” it was barely audible but they just caught it as they watched Harry’s eyes roll back into his head, his body going limp in Max’s arms and his breathing stopped. The hand that was gripping onto Max fell down, hitting the blood stained floor below them.

Maybe going to Auradon was a bad idea.

[peach-bottom]

Peach Bottom - Chapter Five

<-ch4-  -ch6->

The Schuylkill river ran directly through what had once been central Philadelphia, before the war, before the bombs, before the river swelled up. Before towers connected by high-rises, accessed primarily by hovercraft, so distant from the perils of the ground that the rising water was a crystaline dream. These days, the river was slightly South of what was considered ‘Center City’ by official standards.

Despite the fact that it was deemed a flood zone and the homes there weren’t registered, there were homes - some folks squatted in the partially demolished buildings, ones that used to be considered ‘skyscrapers’ before the scraper communities. The old Peco building was a popular squat, and the barren, partially collapsed art museum was still a grounder Philly tourist attraction, in its own way.

The primary attraction, however, was the house boats. Docks had been shoddily created and connected, homes that could survive the encroaching flood flocked together and pinned down. This is what was called the Schuylkill, maybe even more than the river.

There were many ways down into that shifting maze of color and bleached wood, but to Martha, there was a familiar rope ladder beside an ancient, crumbled bridge, down into the quickly filling concrete revine, and then the docks, solid and worn beneath her sandals. All of this connected by more ropes, the whole thing moving just slightly, dizzily, around her.

This was where Martha had been born.

That baby’s parents hadn’t named her ‘Martha,’ though, and as she stood before her aunt’s flaking pepto-bismo pink houseboat, this is what she was thinking of. Her name - her real name, Martha, perfectly plucked from a proud branch of her family tree and affixed where it had always been meant to sit, before her: Martha.

It was important. She didn’t even care much, most of the time - let the waitress say ‘sir,’ and greeted an ‘oops, I mean miss’ as if it was some welcome kiss smacked wetly on her cheek, just a plucky forgiving trans girl, friend of the cis! But her name. Her name.

Martha Ortiz the first had been a soldier, gone awol, gone activist, gone prisoner, gone writer. She was a legend, and had had soft warm hands and flowers on her houseboat.

She’d died when Martha was four, but she liked to think-

Martha took a deep breath and knocked. No point delaying it.

There was a shuffle from inside, a dainty cough, and then silence. Martha could feel an eye peeking at her through the window, but she didn’t glance over until the silence stretched long enough that she began to wonder, the thought sudden and prickly, if she was going to be let in at all. Then there was a click and the door swung open and her aunt Claudia was there, arms open. “Mi amor! Bienvenio, oh, I was so worried!”

The words came over Martha like a balm she hadn’t realized she’d been needing, the familiar Spanish placing her solidly in the world again, where things made the most sense and she could understand. She squeezed Auntie Claudia tightly, trying not to cry as she was hustled in and had a cup of tea handed to her before she could get so much as a ‘thank-you’ out.

Martha took a deep breath. The air here smelled musty, incense, and she could see a candle lit at Claudia’s alter with - and this went over Martha in a wave - a picture of her.

But.

There must’ve been a thousand pictures taken between then and now, and Martha knew her aunt had access - her parents sent out personalized cards for every holiday - a whole slew, just for her Quinceañera a few years back. But this picture was old. This picture was from before.

Martha looked away, quickly. She told herself the intentions were pure, even though they weren’t. She told herself it would be fine, and sat down on one of the squat cushy chairs her aunt had crammed into a corner of the only real room in the boat. A familiar collection of small figurines perched crowded on a side table, most all religious, beyond a one - a tiny, cheap looking porcelain boy with a soccer ball. Martha had gotten it for her as a child - because she liked these fragile little dolls, just like mama, and because it was a soccer boy! A soccer boy, like Martha!

Martha picked it up. It felt cool in her hand. She had an odd urge to put it in her mouth.

“Oh chico, you must tell me everything! Have you contacted your parents yet?”

Martha put down the figurine. “I - not yet, no, I was actually wondering if I could-”

“Ah yes, of course, of course! I got an email from your mother earlier, chico, she is so worried, I’ll get the tablet-”

“And Auntie?”

“Yes, love?”

“I don’t mean to - I mean. Uh, just. Can you please stop calling me chico?”

There was a hefty silence. Auntie Claudia was in her room, supposedly getting the laptop. She was barely five feet from Martha in the tiny houseboat, but when she responded, Martha couldn’t hear her - just an odd mumble.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, love, here, take the computer. And - you are staying here, of course. Until your parents get home”

Martha could’ve cried. “Thank-you, Auntie,” she mumbled, and  took the computer, grateful to her core, and quickly logged in. She had thirteen emails, almost all from her parents. They were on their way, they said, but travel into Philadelphia had become difficult. She responded to the last email, and then typed out a quick note to Tye, too, while she had access. Auntie Claudia, of course, had laid out around three meals worth of snacks at this point, and Martha devoured them hungrily - she hadn’t realized how starving she was.

“How did you get out, my love?” Auntie Claudia was still talking. She’d ranted nonstop about Martha’s parents gall, leaving their son alone like that, and Martha had gritted her teeth and typed through it, mumbling responses when necessary.

“I didn’t. They arrested me for a while, but a friend… well, she paid my bail.”

This got a response. Silent, but deadly. Martha quickly added, “I’m paying her back, though! I just needed to borrow money, it’s not - I mean, I’m paying her back.”

“Spanish, please, chico.” Auntie Claudia said.

Martha bit down hard on her tongue. It didn’t work, though. “Please stop calling me that.”

Claudia lowered her teacup from where she’d been holding it before her mouth, hiding her words like a secret - an intimate, funny kind of habit Martha recognized from her mother, Claudia’s sister.

“You would really punish your Auntie for using pet names?”

“That’s not what-”

“Carlos, your parents would be ashamed-”

“That’s not my name!”

Silence on the boat. Claudia took another sip, shaking her head like Martha was being childish again, telling a story rather than the truth. “I believe I remember your baptism better than you, Carlos. I know what name you were given before G-d.”

“Mama had a new ceremony for me! She knows my name, she-”

Auntie Claudia slammed her tea down; the cup cracked, the liquid spilled, she she hissed like a snake, lifting her hand, which was bloody.

Martha leapt upwards, dashing over to the sink to grab a towel - she wet it with warm water before returning to her aunt and, after a hesitant moment, handing her the cloth rather than cleaning the wound herself, as she might’ve done in another life.

Her aunt didn’t take the cloth, though. She was staring at her hand. Martha swallowed.

When she finally spoke, the words were hard, and plain. “In your own home, or in your mother’s home, you may live whatever sin you like. I worry for you, but I have no control. But in my house, Carlos, you will live as our heavenly father sees you,” she reached out suddenly and clutched at Martha’s hand, her eyes fever-bright, “may it give you the chance to atone-”

Martha jerked her hand back. She grabbed her things, not looking at her Aunt, who was quiet. Until she wasn’t, of course, because she couldn’t be - just as Martha was about to make her exit, she broke the silence with a low voice, dangerous in its meekness, its victimhood.

“You were always so… so manipulative. As a little boy. Turning on the doe eyes anytime someone might give you something, always managing to be the only one out of trouble, though I know, I know you lead my little ones astray every now and then. Never any malice, but - it was a game, you liked it, to play this game. Is that-”

Martha could hear each thumpthumpthump of her heart in her ears, steady as a drum. Could feel the hot bile of anger rising in her throat, her face was burning with rage-

“Don’t you dare-”

“Is that what this is? A way to get closer to girls? Break into their secret world, their bathrooms? I know you like the girls; remember I’m the one that caught you watching that girlie movie, I know you’re not a homosexual, even if you think this is-”

“I am, though! I am! I’m a fucking dyke, auntie, I -”

“You will not swear in my house! You will not sin in my house! You will-”

SLAM.

Martha stared down at the tiny porcelain figurine, cracked on the floor, a dent in the wall beside her aunt’s head. The tiny boy head had been decapitated from the tiny boy body. She looked at her hand. “I didn’t mean -” she started to lie, but when she met her aunt’s eyes, she gave up and allowed herself to burst into tears.

Her aunt picked up the pieces of the little figurine. She looked uncomfortable, but Martha knew she couldn’t ignore crying - never could.

“Oh, Carlos. Fetch me the glue. All he needs is glue - just a little fix. Chico, you must watch your temper,” and then she looked up, a smile like she’d won a tiny victory, “All the men in our family have this passion, though. That is what we’ve always said. You must figure out a way to use it righteously! Be a good man, like your grandfath- Carlos! Carlos, come back!”

On her way out, Martha blew out the candle. She didn’t touch the picture, though. It was from when she was nine - she was in her soccer uniform, a ball under one skinny arm and a toothy grin on her face. She might even have liked it, before this moment. It was still her, after all. It was a picture of a little girl doing something she loved. But it had been poisoned, now.

Martha’s self-righteous rage lasted until she’d climbed the ladder back onto solid ground again. Then, with the earth not moving beneath her, what had happened hit her full force.

She had nowhere to go.

Martha wandered a bit, but it was getting dark, and soon she found an old, overgrown park that felt like safety, felt like faeries, and Martha loved faeries. She curled up on a bench with her backpack under her head and cried, softly, until the shouts and sounds of a group of drunk men roused her and scared her into leaving, creeping by them not creepily enough, jeers and laughter following her down the street, though thankfully, they didn’t follow far.

The AedosDynamic tower caught her eye as she turned down a small alley. It was a shining beacon in the dark danger of the old city. She wished she could call it ugly, but none of the towers were - they were pillars of pure light, vegetation bursting from parks up high, the whole thing fractured in some kind of important architecture way that made it disappear sometimes, turn into just the sky behind it on a rainy day, make that bursting garden top look like it was floating.

There were stairs up to the first floor of the tower. And then, buttons besides.

Martha did the only thing she could think to do. The thing Tye had told her to do - and Tye was smart. Smart and hard and loving in a way Martha couldn’t be. So she could only trust Tye, really.

Lemon answered on the second ring. “Helllooooooo?” she said as her image clipped into view on the display screen. Her eyes widened at Martha, and Martha opened her mouth, ready to engage her prepared speech, but Lemon got in there before she could, “Sweet! I was wondering when you’d turn up, girlie. Come in - 744B. I ordered takeout.”

There was a long drone as the door unlocked, and Martha quickly ducked under the motion sensor and passed through.

A wave of air conditioning smacked her in the face.

She’d forgotten what that felt like.

Ignoring the odd looks from the receptionists, Martha made her way across the lobby, which was so posh it hurt to look at - plants everywhere, a fountain, a chandelier, dripping with crystals. Martha felt like a plain stone in a box of diamonds.

Lemon met her at the elevator though, cheesesteak in hand, and to Martha’s shock, she handed it over immediately. “I ate the other one. One and a half. Whatever. Anyway, sorry. You were late.”

Martha laughed, despite herself, and took the cheesesteak. It was heavy with grease and loaded down with fried onions and mushrooms. It felt like the first real thing in this sterile world of wealth. “I won’t stay long. I mean, my parents are-”

Lemon grabbed her bag for her and then strutted down the hallway on a mission, calling back, “Well then it’s time to get the party started! We gotta have some fun before they get here. Come on in, then, babe. Bet you can’t beat my deaths-per-game count in Overwatch.”

“What’s Overwatch?”

“Oh man, I am gonna love showing you, come on come on, let’s do this!”

Martha followed, an odd hope alighting in her chest.

She could do this. Alright. She could totally do this.

<-ch4-  -ch6->

[frczenhcartarchive]

Hello there! I'm really really wanting to join the descendants rp community with a child of Elsa, but I'm seeing a lot of the same things being used and I came across your blog here and fell in love! I was just wondering what to possibly do or not to do when creating my character because your's is so diverse and different and I absolutely am hoping you can help me out!

this is LITERALLY the sweetest thing i’ve read, and i’ve noticed i’ve got a few of these sitting in my inbox so i figured i’d just answer all of them now. i was an rph for a reason. so consider this KYLA’S GUIDE TO CREATING CHARACTERS. and since descendants is my primary focus in this, please keep this in mind. but i will try to keep this as open to all character types and fandoms as possible.

this will explain step by step how i created my own muse and what i thought of in terms of how i chose his name, personality, appearance and faceclaim. please keep in mind to read ALL THE WAY TO THE END in case i misinformed anything or incorrectly stated anything as i have received hate before and hurtful messages for unknowingly reblogging things and upsetting people.

so let us begin !!

1. THINK ABOUT THE CHARACTER’S PARENTS. in a descendants sort of way, we have to always keep in mind that there are parents involved. whether it be two mothers, two fathers, or a mother and father. even MAL’S FATHER is mentioned in the books. in eldon’s case, i started with hans. but after adding elsa, it changed things. never solely base your character off one parent. if you CHOOSE to have one parent like evie, jay and carlos, or basically every other kid on the isle, please keep in mind that every character has their own personality. do NOT rely solely on the parent’s persona to create the character. it’s not very original and it’s like a copy and pasted version of the parent. 

2. APPEARANCE. i never make the character’s name first, i always start with the appearance. feel FREE to go out of order if you just need help with one thing! but this is where genes take a role. YEP! science is apart of this tutorial! in eldon’s case, a lot of people ask me why he has red hair instead of blonde. ( and it wasn’t just for the lack if blonde male face claims i wanted to choose from ) i kept in mind that elsa had blonde hair because of her powers, BUT blonde hair is a recessive gene, as in even if both parents have dark hair, if there was any sort of blonde hair in their family, the kid can get it. i also noted how a LOT of children of elsa had blonde hair, so i avoided that all together. this is where the other parent comes in handy. hans has RED hair. it’s also a recessive gene, but i found that it’d really make my character look different apposed to his mom’s appearance. 

( CONT. ) putting it all together, you can really just pick and choose what you want. hans has red hair and green eyes while elsa has blonde hair and blue eyes, so instead of solely basing eldon’s appearance on one parent, i mixed and matched. he has red hair and blue eyes. in the part of appearance as well, you want to keep in mind that it’s not just about the hair color and eye color. NOTICE their features. do they look more like their mom or dad? what aspects of their dad do they have? what aspects of their mom do they have? are there any features they have that aren’t their mom’s or dad’s? it help builds a better mental picture of what you want your character to look like! in my case, i presumed eldon looked more like hans with the broad exterior, charming features and the way hans carried himself. though given his facial appearance, he still has a lot of knicks of his dad’s but his facial features give more towards his mom’s side. the previous king of arendelle, elsa’s father, gave eldon his nose, bone structure and could have possibly been the source of his red hair. but eldon’s also been known to have his mom’s eyes. that’s the most notable feature, actually to me. he has elsa’s calculating, protruding eyes.

3. PERSONALITY. this one is what gets me every time. i’ve noticed that a lot of people base their character’s personality PRIMARILY on their parents. a lot of children of elsa ( to my observation ) have a very similar personality to hers. obviously there will be aspects of a parents personality, but REMEMBER, your character isn’t their parent. evie was brought up to want to be the prettiest and thought that she had to be beautiful to get a prince, but while she was discovering herself, she learned to be incredibly bright, intelligent and there was more to her than just her looks. so while some traits are genetic, a lot of a character’s personality is given due to their upbringing. EX. eldon was brought up a lot like elsa was, being shoved behind walls to learn everything in solitude and alone. parents tend to raise their kids as their parents had before them, and while elsa had thought it was the right thing, it turned out to be the wrong thing. not to forget that he’s sent to the Isle for misdemeanor and when he lives with his father, hans does the same thing his own father did by looking to eldon as weak and insolent. this causes eldon to become very reclusive and quiet, primarily callous and mistrustful. while yes, eldon does have some traits from elsa, like his nervousness that gets the best of him from time to time and fear of himself, he also has hans’ personality of being afraid of failure, wanting nothing but to prove his worth to people around him. BUT he also learns that he is independent, strong-willed and wants to help people who are in similar situations that he is in.

4. NAMES. i always find myself falling into this category last. to a lot of people NAMES HAVE MEANING. in the descendants, you notice a lot of the kids have names starting with the same letter as their parents or even the same name as their parents ( ie. gaston jr. ) don’t let this limit you to naming your character. eldon did get his name from his mom’s initials, elsa, but the meaning of his name gives reference to the trolls in frozen that help save anna’s life. eldon is english for ‘from the elves’ valley’, which obviously they’re not elves, but it’s close to mentioning the grove where the trolls were residing and i picked this on purpose because it reminded me of that very situation. i also had mentioned before how his middle name gives reference to elsa as well, as arvid means ‘forest of eagles’ and in american culture, eagles are seen as symbols of freedom. elsa’s want for freedom for her powers i included in eldon’s name.

ALSO. don’t forget that if your character is from a certain ethnic background, it’s a good idea to stay in their country’s language as in eldon’s norwegian heritage plays a part in his name.

5. THINK OF THE LITTLE THINGS. what makes your character like they are? what’s their favorite food? favorite color? what are their hobbies? fears? likes or dislikes? habits? what are they good at? what are they bad at? what would they like to work on? little things like this could make a HUGE difference in how your character interacts or even sees themselves.

6. BIOGRAPHICAL & CHOOSING A FACE CLAIM. i still do make mistakes when it comes to this here. DO NOT STRETCH YOUR FACE CLAIM’S ETHNICITY OR GENDER. i am pulling some strings with using kj apa, as he’s partially samoan but also majority Caucasian, so i’m walking on thin ice here. also, if your character is transgender or non-binary, use a trans!face claim or even a faceclaim who identifies themselves as non-binary. using cis!faceclaims to play trans or non-binary muses can result in insulting muns that are trans or non-binary themselves. IE. my muse moriana is non-binary and her faceclaim is amandla stenberg, who has openly identified as being non-binary.

 if your character’s parent(s) or one of them is african-american and the other is white, that would more than likely make them mixed-raced. i’d recommend keeping your faceclaims the race that their parent is specified, though i did find some place where it’s OKAY to choose their parents’ ethnicity or biographical information ONLY IF they’re ethnicity isn’t stated otherwise. like audrey, aurora’s daughter appears to be mix raced, and her grandmother being african-american also perceives or gives reference to the fact it’s HIGHLY possible aurora is african-american herself. in situations like these, IT’S HIGHLY RECOMMENDED TO MAKE SURE YOU DO NOT OFFEND ANYONE’S RACE AND TO ENSURE THAT YOU ARE PORTRAYING THEIR CULTURE CORRECTLY. ( me, the mun, am of israeli descent and i sure as hell am not cool of someone portraying my culture the way they want to ) i would highly recommend NOT doing this unless you’ve really dug deep into the biographical studies. i have done it ONCE myself with my daughter of snow white and all i did was created a latinx version of snow white. PLEASE BE CAREFUL IF YOU CHOOSE TO DO THIS. ( i will make the disclaimer that i am in no way encouraging anyone to bend the ethnicity of ANY POC FACE CLAIMS. THIS IS STRICTLY FOR WHITE FACE CLAIMS AND WITH A LOT OF STUDYING AND MAKING SURE IT IS OKAY WITH OTHERS BEFORE YOU DO SO ) 

7. HAVING FUN. after getting all of your character’s information and are happy with what you’ve done, GO OUT AND INTRODUCE THEM TO THE WORLD. roleplaying is one of the BEST ways to understand and work with your character, whether it be an OC or CANON DIVERGENT, you make your character work how you want them to! it’s all about research, learning and finding out how you want your muse or character to be while also being aware of how they can effect those around you!

BONUS. for descendants, children of elsa seem to ALWAYS have the ice magic she possesses, and it’s SUPER ALRIGHT to give your character those powers, but keep in mind it’s also possible they don’t have them. how would they cope with being normal? would they see themselves as ‘different’ opposed to their mom? 

i gave eldon the powers to help me further develop his personality. unlike his mom, he uses his power as a WEAPON but also sees it as a curse. he both fears and abuses his ability and often pays the price for it. depending on how you create your character, you can bend it in all sorts of ways! the sky is the limit though be sure to keep them original and diverse! you want to avoid all sources of mary-sues and gary-stus.

i really hope this has been helpful and i know i am still learning character development myself, IF THERE IS ANY INFORMATION IN HERE THAT IS INCORRECT OR NEEDS TO BE ALTERED, please message me and DO NOT INBOX ME ON ANON OR IN GENERAL. it’s much more civil to let me know 1x1 so i can personally apologize if i may have misinformed or worded something incorrectly.

[fuckyeahcatdog]

Interview with Lisa Kossey Casting Coordinator/Supervisor of CatDog

Explain what you did exactly as a Casting Coordinator and Supervisor, to those reading that are unsure of what that includes.

In a previous email, you mentioned a few abbreviations- (EMR, SAG, ADR, etc) What do they mean?

"Basically a Casting Coordinator job is to assist in all duties related to the cast.

Pre-Production duties:

Assist the shows Casting Director (usually a freelancer)

Call actors agents to arrange time and location of the records

Reserve studio time for record sessions

Send cast scripts via mail (CatDog NEVER did that- cast didn’t need them early)

Complete all paperwork related to that record, SAG (Screen Actors Guild) and payroll time sheets and contracts and have actors sign necessary documents.

Brought copies of scripts and storyboards to the record sessions.

Circle Takes (track all lines recorded during session by number)

Responsible for getting the session tapes (everything that was recorded) and circle takes (tells us what lines we want to save) to the editor so he could create a EMR (Edited Master Record) EMR’s are the dialogue tracks of the show put in order as they appear in the script (no sound effects or music).

Make copies of EMR and distributes to the artist, and they draw what they hear.

Track all pick-up lines (any lines that may be added or revised during the storyboarding process).  

My job on CatDog was different then most Casting Coordinators at Nick, I did a lot of Post Production too.

Post-Production duties:

·        Kept track of the Show credits (who did what on what show- 1st season only)

·        Typed & Tracked animation retakes (when the cartoon has mistakes in animation, backgrounds, color, or creative changes and has to be fixed)

·        Spotted for ADR (Automated Dialogue Replacement- is when the actor see's the animation while he is recording dialogue, not just recording from script) when the dialogue track and animation would be put together sometimes words would not fit, or mistakes would be made, or Peter would change his mind about something and we would call actors back in to re-record while they watch their character on screen and followed animation.

·        Sat in with Peter during 1st looks and playbacks (to make sure all the ADR notes were incorporated in the show.

·        Sent music notes and changes to Denis Hannigan.

·        (and CatDog party planner- we had lots of parties!!)"

What are your fondest and craziest memories working on CatDog?

"There are so many!  I loved Tuesdays at 2:00 PM- that was record day. (Thanks Horta!!)

The best day working on CatDog had to have been when we hosted a “Make a Wish” day for a little boy who wanted to meet CatDog.  Peter, Jim, Tom and Carlos were great.   It was so nice to be able to make someone’s wish come true.  What a great family.

The staff and cast of CatDog were the best!

We worked very hard many days and many long nights at the office, but we had lots of fun and parties too. Halloween, St. Patty’s Day, Christmas, birthdays, or just because- we didn't need a reason.

Dave Warden days (Yadda Yadda!) Beer and Cake?  Why so many cakes?  3-hour lunches and office bowling (Laurel Canyon).  Remembering Nikki Gayle crying in previews of new shows (only Nikki would cry in a CatDog episode).  Free lunch Fridays. Jim’s Limo rides.  Looking for Peter’s credit card, again."

Working so close to the cast, did you find yourself sometimes going home quoting Cat or Dog or any of the characters?

“What are ya, Nuts!” Of course, and still do… “Hi-ho-diggety”.  I still find myself singing “Pretty Little Piece of Paradise” anytime I hear the word paradise. But I think Winslow had the most “behind the scenes” catch phrases of all. (Can’t tell ya those, Heh heh!).  My favorite quote from a show is, “My name is Dog with a duh!”- It’s a Wonderful Half Life.  My favorite recording studio quote, “My bad”.

Is most of the cast reading done separately, or do they do it together?    To get the whole CatDog togetherness feeling, did Jim and Tom read and act together a lot?

"We would try to record as much of the show with as many of the actors together as possible.  The CatDog cast are some of the busiest voice-over talent in the biz, so sometime we had to work around each others schedules.

I would read the script prior to scheduling the actors.  If one actor only had a few lines in the show I would try to call them in first and just get that line out of the way then they would not have to sit through the 2-4 hour session.

Yes, we tried to always have Cat & Dog together (two heads are better than one!).  Our cast worked extremely well together, we were able to record one 11-minute show in 2 hours, that was due to the magic of Jim and Tom playing off each other so well.  It could take other cartoons almost 4 hours to complete an 11-minute show."

The cast of CatDog is absolutely incredible and talented, was there a lot of improvisation?  Did the cast come up with any catch phrases?  Or was that strictly the writers and Peter?

"It’s hard to remember who wrote what, and who made it up but Peter and the writers came up with most of the catch phrases, but the way they were said had a lot to do with the actors improvisation.  Your right, the cast was incredibly talented and funny.  The actors did instinctively ad-lib often and we did end up using a lot of what they said.  You should have heard the ad-libs we couldn't use!! The writing never stopped during a record, the script was being revised up until the last take."

Which CatDog characters are your all time favorites and why?  Is there one in particular you can relate to real well?

"That’s a hard one, I really liked Little Cat- from Dummy Dummy.  I loved seeing Dog in his cowboy outfits (I like seeing anyone in a cowboy outfit!).  I guess I would have to say Dog, his innocence is so loveable."

Which episodes did you enjoy the most during your CatDog experience?

"My favorite is “It’s a Wonder Half Life” I loved the style of the animation in that show along with the music. I also like “Do Wop Diggety”, “The Island”; my favorites change.  I think more about the production process of the cartoon rather than the story- If I happen to catch a episode of CatDog on TV and remember what we were talking about during the recording session or how many changes the show had I don’t watch them as shows, but as little diaries that they bring back memories. At the time when ever I saw we had a song, I would dread record sessions, songs required a lot more time and preparation, but in the end those show are my favorite ones.

“Silence Please” had to have been the easiest!  I think the script was less than 3 pages, only about 4-7 minutes of dialogue in the whole show- easy money!!"

Did you work with all episodes from season 1 on up to Season 3?

"Yeppers! I worked on every single show!  No"t the original pilot- but we added a short to that one later."

The question everyone asks, which side of CatDog do you relate with most, and like better?

"I would like to say I am more like Dog, but I know I have some of Cat in me too!  In the beginning I really liked the character of Dog better, but Cat’s charm started to grow on me."

When did you decide to get into the cartoon world?   Do you also enjoy drawing and writing?  What did you do before CatDog?

"I never aspired to be in animation at all, I rarely watched cartoons as a child.  I was really lucky and my cousin (Dawn Hershey) that worked on Hey Arnold told me Nickelodeon was hiring a receptionist- had an interview, got the job.  I don’t draw very well, and don’t enjoy writing, (I suck at writing-just ask Peter). Before CatDog I worked on Angry Beavers as the receptionist."

Besides the movie, which episodes seemed to take a lot time and effort to put together?  Any episodes that were particularly difficult for any of the cast?

"“Canine Mutiny”- for some reason, I think I remember a lot of time spent on this one- it kept changing.

The cast was great, they would read a script 5 minutes before we started to record and hit every line almost perfect.  It was absolutely amazing at times of how great the talent pool was sitting in a CatDog recording session.

Difficult shows for the cast where, the shows that had a lot of screaming (I know- like all of them!).  Screaming is not hard for them, but you have to take into consideration that these actors work on anywhere from 2-10 different shows, commercials or promos a day and a lot of screaming can damage their voice for the rest of the day (or even week).  We would try to save the BIG screams till the end of the session or try to use a scream that was previously recorded. (If you listen real close you might be able to hear the same scream in two different shows)."

Perhaps this is more a question for an animator, but were any of the characters inspired by some of the actors looks?   (For example I saw Maria's hilarious standup on Comedy Central, and she's petite and blonde just like Shriek.   Do cast looks inspire some of the characters features?

"Maria worked at Nickelodeon as a receptionist and an assistant before she was the voice of Shriek.  Maybe Peter thought she resembled Shriek, but Maria’s voice was Shrieky- that’s how she got the part.   All the main characters were basically designed before we cast-ed the show (but a few changes were made after “Dog Gone” the pilot”, Lube’s look changed a bit).  When it comes to personalities; I would say Jim reminds me more of Cat, and Tom definitely is more Dog.  Carlos is more Winslow than Lube, but Billy doesn’t remind me of Rancid, Randolph or Mr. Sunshine in person. Do cast looks inspire some character features?  Kinda, I don’t think too much in the beginning, but as the show progress, I noticed some of the facial movements of the actors were reflected in their character, or maybe it was the actor becoming the character??

Tom “Dog” would always record in a booth inside the recording studio.  We called it his doghouse.  He read all his lines standing up and he would jump and wave his arms in the air, just like Dog while reading.  Jim was more relaxed; he sat while reading his lines. He always had a pair of drumsticks with him and in-between takes would play make believe drums."

Steven mentioned that Ray Pointer inspired "The Amazing Ray", did the animators draw a character that looked like you too?  Do you remember anyone from the staff that was drawn into the show?

"No, I don’t think I ever inspired anyone to draw me as a character (I tried!).  We did use names of staff in shows, Princess Kitaen, - from “Spaced Out” (Kim Kitaen was our Production Manager) but the princess didn’t look like her (she is much prettier).  We had a few Eric’s on our show (Evil Eric- won’t say which one was evil :) Angry Beavers did a bowling show based on their staff, I thought it was great.  I tried to push the idea- I had no pull!"

Did you come up with any of the show's ideas, such as a character quark dialogue idea, or an episode idea?

"Nope!  We would brain storm in record sessions over a phrase or something, but I don’t think any of my ideas made it past. (Good thing too!)"

Did you also assist with any script changes?

"In the beginning of 1st season I had to assist with script changes (just retyping and numbering of lines- no creative changes) until our (not so faithful- he quit 3rd season) Neil Martin joined the team as the script coordinator."

Did you or any other Nickelodeon staff members ever get to do voices that made it on the show?

"Yes, we would bring in a bunch of people that worked in the studio and do “Walla”.  That is all the background noise you hear in a crowd.  We found some hidden talents in many of the CatDog crew, Carolyn, Linda Barry, Vic Wilson, Steven Banks, Neil Martin, Don the Parking Guy, Peters Kids, Justin Brinsfield, Rob Porter and many more.

I hated having to go into the recording studio- but one day we had to finish ADR on “All About Cat” and we needed to fill a 3 second missing gap in one of Tallulah scenes.  I was the only girl around and had to go in and TRY to sing “La, la, la, la la.  After about 25 takes I was horrible, I did one that was so off and terrible that it made Peter laugh so hard he almost fell out of his chair.  He kept it! (Proof that I’m not an aspiring singer!)"

Is there anything else you would like to add before closing?

"It just doesn’t get any better than CatDog”

Thanks for bringing back so many great memories of such a fun time in my life.  Thanks for Peter for making it all happen, he was great to work with, I miss everyone so much.  Kristen you are the biggest CatDog fan I have ever known!!  Thanks for contacting me."

I'm glad to help you recall your incredible CatDog experience. Thank you very much for the interview and giving us a feel for what working on CatDog was like! :-)

Also Thank you for autograph,

and publicity booklet "CatDog Bible"

(source: http://catdog1st.tripod.com/LisaKossey.html)

[theguardianangel-fanfiction]

Once Bitten, Twice Dead

Summary: It’s been two years since the beginning, and only five days since Clementine met them. But somehow, things got so much worse, and Carver was just the beginning. [Season 2 AU/canon divergent. New situations, characters, etc.]  Chapter 9: Stitches Author’s Note: I will be posting 1 chapter a day on Tumblr. Each chapter is already posted on AO3 and Fanfiction. I will resume posting on those 2 websites on October 1st, 2017. [Main Blog] [AO3] [FanFiction.Net]

Clementine held a look of great relief. She looked down at her bite and clamped her right hand around her wrist, then looked up to the faces of the rest of the group.

“I didn’t think it was.” Pete spoke in response to Carlos. “Damn thing’s way too long.”

The woman – Clementine really needed to learn her name – scrunched her eyebrows up in the way that Luke had much earlier. Disbelief. She shook her head, “There’s no way that’s a dog bite – I can’t even remember the last time I saw a dog! How would one even survive?”

“There’s bound to be survivors out there who keep their dogs with them.” Luke pointed, arms crossed. He looked back to Clementine and asked, “You said it had a collar, didn’t you?”

She nodded, avoiding the suspicious gaze of the woman. “It said his name was ‘Sam’.” Clementine cringed internally when she said the dog’s name. She wished she could go back to when she was calling him “the dog” – it was much less humanizing, and as selfish as it was, it left a smaller mark on her conscience. A spasm of pain ran through her arm, flaring up and increasing the pain she’d been feeling before.

“You okay, Clementine?” asked Luke, turning his head towards her.

Clementine didn’t answer immediately. She took in a shallow breath, clenching her teeth, before answering. “I’ll be fine.”

“Look,” the woman said after a moment. “How can we be sure it’s not just a torn lurker bite?”

Carlos looked as if he were about to answer. Instead, Pete spoke, this time to Clementine, who was still hugging her arm to her chest. “She’d start showin’ symptoms by now, Rebecca. The girl ain’t even feverish… You know how fast a lurker bite works.” Suddenly, he said, “Clementine, come here for a minute.”

Clementine looked up. She trusted Pete, and she trusted Luke, but she had no idea what he had in mind, and quite frankly, she didn’t want to be around Rebecca, the woman who refused to believe her. Slowly, she made her way over to Pete, and stopped in front of him. She gazed at him warily.

Pete looked over to the woman, and then back at Clementine. He pointed his finger at something on the side of Clementine’s neck, and said, “Rebecca, those didn’t come from a human or a lurker.” He sighed, then looked down at her. “I saw ‘em when we were bringin’ her back here.”

Rebecca’s gaze shifted to Clementine for only a moment, and then back to Pete. “You’d damn well better be right about this.”

Clementine reached up to where he had pointed, and only then was it that she could feel inflamed scratches on the side of her neck. She hadn’t even known they were there, or that Sam had gotten close enough to the area to scratch her.

The one thing Clementine never thought she’d think was, Thank God for getting scratched.

She listened for a moment to the back-and-forth between the group. They all seemed to trust Carlos, though at the same time, the woman named Rebecca, and the broad man – whom she quickly learned was named Alvin – seemed uneasy.

Nick hadn’t spoken yet, unlike the rest of the group, who had either expressed their disbelief or some other emotion. He stood behind the others, staring at the ground as if it had just murdered his entire family. He turned on his heel a moment later, and abruptly made his way away from everyone else, and away from Clementine.

“Nick… don’t be like that, man…” Luke muttered, loud enough only for those surrounding him to hear. He followed behind Nick, with one last glance at Clementine. He hung his head, looking both saddened and annoyed at the same time.

“It’s alright.” Pete said, it seemed, to no one in particular. “Boy’s got his mom’s temper.” He looked down at the rifle in he held at his side, then at Clementine. She quickly realized he was talking to her. “But you’re lucky my nephew can’t shoot for shit.”

“Bring her in,” said Carlos in a reluctant tone, walking back towards the patio steps. “I’ll see what I can do for her arm.”

Clementine didn’t mistake the offer of medical care for kindness. Even if Carlos had vouched for her and told them what her bite really was, she knew that he wasn’t anywhere near happy to do it. Of course they don’t trust me, she thought, feeling slow, they thought I was working for someone.

Part of her wondered who this Carver was, and that same part of her wondered why they were so afraid. The other half of her wanted to leave. This person wasn’t – or rather shouldn’t – be her concern at all, and she wanted no part in whatever this group had done, or had had done to them.

Clementine found herself in the kitchen a few minutes later, sitting on a stool up against the kitchen island. Carlos stood, only a few feet away from her, rooting through a cardboard box that seemed to have been packed to the brim of any type of medical supplies one might need in an emergency.

She didn’t know what time of the day it was exactly, but it was quickly beginning to darken outside. Raindrops echoed as they bounced on the roof and beat against the windows. Clementine could only be thankful for the fact that she wasn’t out there in the rain, as she’d been the night before.

Much to her chagrin, Nick stood in the corner of the kitchen. His eyes continuously darted from Clementine to his rifle, or at Carlos; his thumbnail stayed glued to his mouth as he gazed at all of them from underneath the bill of his cap.

The kitchen door swung open, and in came Luke, who held a full-sized lighter in his hand. He glanced at Clementine, then at Nick, who returned it with a blank stare. He approached the table, where several thick candles sat on their plates next Nick’s rifle and a red and black lantern.

Within a minute, Luke lit several of the candles, producing extra light in the rapidly darkening room.

“Kid, you should prob’ly know that you got blood all over your face.” Clementine looked up from her arm to Luke, who held a small smirk. He grabbed a washcloth from the counter, and set it on the island. “Just thought you should know.”

Clementine had forgotten about the blood she felt splatter her face much earlier. A small amount of embarrassment washed over her at having to have this pointed out. On the other hand, she supposed, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“Thanks.” She quickly tried to wipe the dried blood from her face with the washcloth, though it was difficult to tell whether or not it had gotten the job done. “Did I get it?”

Luke placed his own finger at the top of his left cheekbone, below his eye. “You got a little here – yeah, there you go.”

Carlos pulled several metal objects from his box, and then two smaller, white and blue boxes. He laid out what looked like an odd pair of scissors, a pair of tweezers, and some sort of hooked needle out on a small towel before looking up.

“This isn’t going to be pleasant.”

Clementine sighed, eyeing the supplies he’d laid out. She knew what was coming next, and she didn’t need to be told. Unable to stop herself, she pulled a face.

Luke held up the lighter, nodding to another set of candles on the counter next to the island. “Do you need the light?”

“That would be helpful, yes.” Carlos responded, not looking up from one of the smaller boxes that he had pulled out. A moment later, the three candles on the counter were flickering a golden orange, giving off enough light to see.

“Where’s Sarah?”

It was Luke who broke the sudden silence between the four people in the room. Carlos looked up, lifting an eyebrow at the question. Clementine could put the name with the curious face of the teen girl who had stuck her head outside earlier. She had no doubt that this was Carlos’ daughter, and he obviously hadn’t wanted her involved in these things.

“She’s upstairs. She has her book and Rebecca went up there with her.” Carlos pulled a pair of latex gloves from his box, and began to put them on. “She doesn’t need to see this.”

Nick’s erratic behavior may have seemed normal to his group and to Luke and Pete, but Clementine simply stared when he left suddenly left the kitchen, muttering that he didn’t need to see this either.

Clementine turned her attention to Carlos, who was currently dampening another washcloth with a liquid she couldn’t make out. Just as he had earlier, he held out his hand for her arm.

“What is that?” she asked promptly, sounding more nervous than she intended.

“Hydrogen Peroxide.” Carlos informed her simply. “The bite needs to be cleaned before I can stitch it up.”

Clementine responded with, “Right,” allowing him to take her arm. She could smell the harsh cleaner, and no matter how many times she told herself it was a necessary process, she couldn’t help but wish he could just skip the cleaning and get everything done sooner.

“This may hurt a little.”

Dread filled the pit of her stomach.

“Okay, that’s done.”

Clementine knew only a few minutes had passed since Carlos had begun cleaning the wound, but it felt like an eternity. The smell of the peroxide made her eyes water and every part of her bite stung. She felt as if a million fire ants were viciously attacking the inside of it. Tiny, involuntary tears spilled down her cheeks.

By now, the sight of it was making her feel sick to her stomach. Luke was pacing back and forth, occasionally bouncing on the edge of his feet. He shot her a look of pity. She briefly wondered if he was experiencing sympathy pains, or simply felt bad for having to watch her.

Carlos spoke up as he began to ready his supplies for Clementine’s stitches. He sorted through the tools he had pulled out, each of them belonging in a suture pack, and then held up a small tube. “I’m going to warn you,” he began in a cautious tone. “It is meant to numb the skin and the tissue so you feel as little pain as possible during this procedure, but if it’s out of date, it’s probably not going to work. So, as I said earlier, this may not be pleasant.”

Luke sat down on the stool next to Clementine, who was beginning to take this in. Her heart thumped wildly against her chest.

“It’s okay if you’re scared, you know.” Luke told her. “You ever gotten stitches before?”

Clementine shook her head. “No. But my friend showed me how they work.” Even before Christa had shown her how to stitch, Clementine had known somewhat how they worked. She’d sewn things together when she was younger, and from what she understood, they had similarities.  “She cut her leg a few months ago and stitched it up with some wire and a sewing needle.”

“Eugh. That… Clementine, your friend has guts, I’ll tell y’that."

Clementine smiled sadly, thoughts drifting again.

“Are you ready?” She looked up at Carlos, whose gaze was split between her and Luke. He held the anesthetic tube in his hand.

She drew in a deep breath, preparing herself for the possibility that the anesthetic might not work. Slowly, Clementine answered him with a nod.

It took eight stitches to hold both sides of the wound together. Carlos was half right about the anesthetic cream – it numbed some of the area, though it left other parts exposed and prickling with pain. But in the end, there was no more bleeding and the skin was held together tightly and neatly. His odd, hook-shaped needle had worked after all.

Clementine had moved to the kitchen table, running her finger lightly over the bandage that was placed over the stitches. It wrapped fully around her arm three times, and the wiry sutures that stuck out against her skin. Raindrops still beat on the roof and windows forcefully. It was dark outside now, leaving the candles that were scattered across the kitchen as the only source of light.

“You’ll need to watch that for any sign of infection.” said Carlos from the counter. He placed the suture kit back into the box. Clementine looked up. “If you see any pus or redness around the area, then that could be a sign. Don’t touch it.”

She nodded in response, looking up from her arm. “I won’t.”

Luke left the two of them in silence, saying that he would be back in a moment. The kitchen door swung shut with a soft squeak behind him.

After only a few seconds, Carlos spoke again. “Where did you come from?”

“What do you mean?” Clementine asked, looking up from her bandage. Hadn’t they already gone over this? She told Pete and Luke what had happened.

“I mean exactly what I just said.” was the answer she received in response. Carlos turned his back to her, leaning over the kitchen sink. He repeated the question. “Where did you come from?”

Clementine turned to the side of the chair. “My friend and I were in the woods. I don’t know how far away it is from here.” She said nothing about the river, and nothing about how she’d blindly and deliriously wandered through a walker infested forest. “… Why do you want to know?”

Carlos turned to face her, drying his hands on the side of his shirt. Even through the darkness in the room, Clementine knew a scowl when she saw one. “I don’t know who you are,” he began, “And I don’t know where you came from. But if you’re with Carver, then you need to say it now.”

Carver – again with Carver. Whoever this person was, he had a great deal of influence over these people. Clementine felt both annoyance and slight panic raise up inside of her. Carlos could stitch up a dog bite for her, but he couldn’t believe that she didn’t know this person?

“I don’t know who that is.” Clementine answered truthfully, looking up at him. Though he was across the room, she gave him the same look she’d given Pete earlier that day when he had asked if she was telling the truth about her bite. “I just needed help. I’m not… working for anyone.”

A heavy silence settled over the kitchen for several seconds. Clementine didn’t want to make him angry, but there was no way she was going to admit to something she had no part in. She didn’t have a lot of things left, but she wasn’t going to lose what little bit of dignity she had left.

“Rebecca was worried that you might be working with someone else. That your being here was no accident. I guess we’ll find out. I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt,” Carlos finally said, jaw clenched. “But stay away from my daughter.”

With that, he left Clementine in the kitchen. Luke caught the door as the other man left, a bowl in his hands.

“Hey, uh,” He glanced back at Carlos, then back to Clementine. “I brought you some food if you’re hungry.”

[acehotel]

Interview: Chef Carlos Salgado

Carlos Salgado is our new culinary partner in Palm Springs. Along with a resume of impressive accolades for his Costa Mesa restaurant Taco María, Carlos has a passion for heirloom corn, woodworking, classical composers and cold, clear desert nights. He believes, like we do, that the way you do anything is the way you do everything, and that cooking food and eating food is a political, symbolic and life-giving act. Plus, his tacos cast every other taco you’ve ever eaten in a rather unflattering light. (We wouldn’t be lying if we said we’ve wept with joy into more than one of his blue corn tortillas).

We caught up with Carlos Salgado to talk about his unique path to the kitchen, his commitment to human connection and the narrative arc of cooking.

Carlos. Welcome to Palm Springs. We heard you have a history with the desert already.

That is a term that has been sort of adopted by the culinary community.

I think it began with the food writer Bill Esparza, who was one of the early food thinkers to sort of connect certain modern trends and ideas and sensibilities to classic or traditional ideas and sensibilities from the other side of the border. [Esparza] was among the first to note that there was something interesting happening — something natural, and without classification. He used the term Alta California cuisine, which Taco María proudly adopted once he chose to describe us in that way. He sort of accepted us into a community that we very much naturally felt a part of.

It is based on notions — that in many places have become buzzwords and selling points — but really, authentically, have been part of Mexican cuisine for a long time: locavorism or eating and sourcing locally, seasonality, a focus on vegetables rather than an excess of protein, and employing traditional cooking techniques. Mexican food is innately these things. Regional, seasonal, sustainable, natural. Those are often seen in as being a part of fine dining and especially seen in more expensive or more “elevated” cuisines, but that is all naturally a part of Mexican food, and has been for a long time.

Photo by Anne Watson.

Contemporary Mexican chefs, young Mexican chefs or Mexican-American chefs on both sides of the border have been, for a long time, picking up on a lot of these same ideas. Mexican food is not just working class, it's not all rice and beans. It's not all pork or well-done steak. Not everything has guacamole or tomato salsa on it.  

For us, Alta California is a term that also encompasses influences from northern California. The European influence is very important of course. And anyone who holds a knife owes something to French cuisine and to Mediterranean cuisine, especially if you cook here in California. I was trained in northern California so I owe a lot to the European cuisine, but also, giving equal weight and importance to the influence of traditional Mexican cooking and also regional native cooking.

Mexican food is the cuisine of southern California. There is no gap in the lineage of Mexicans cooking Mexican food in southern California. There is no historical gap in this type of cooking in this region, going back to pre-Hispanic times. It has to be said that Mexican cuisine is one of the fundamental identities of southern California cuisine.

That's what Alta California means to us. It's multicultural, but also firmly rooted — honestly, authentically rooted — in Mexican food and Mexican culture and everything that that entails. One thing I like about that term is what I alluded too earlier, which is that many of the things that modern foodies are congratulating themselves for — choosing non-GMO crops, eating more vegetable-based diets, farming differently so that we can eat less meat, cooking and eating more sustainably, based on the seasons, using all the parts of the plants, not wasting, preserving — have been a part of ethnic cuisines for a long time.

Photo by Anne Watson.

I find, especially as I get older, that looking forward in time for innovation or interestingness is not always rewarding. More often than not, it's less rewarding than looking backwards in time and finding interesting-ness there. Aside from the “foodies” though, it seems that the contemporary American food culture for the most part has diverged from this so much — with GMOs and factory farming and in some ways, a complete lack of mindfulness around cooking and eating. And yet it seems Alta California cuisine has stayed true to itself and its ethos through this.

CS: Yeah, very much. Not only here in California. Obviously we've maintained very strong ethical principles with respect to our food here, but even going further back, there have been Mexican people growing and cooking Mexican food according to these same “modern foodie” principles for hundreds and hundreds of years before Europeans arrived here.

I’m curious about corn. There are a lot of modern perceptions of corn in this country — that it’s cheap, that Monsanto controls it, that it is in everything we eat, that it’s genetically modified, etc. How does that differ from the heirloom corn that you work with, both in flavor, consistency and varietal?

CS: The corn that we use at Taco María is, most importantly, delicious. It's also beautiful. It's also very nutritious. As a chef, if in your life you get to work with an heirloom ingredient that is not just more delicious, but also more beautiful, more sustainable, healthier for both the environment and the communities that grow it, that's a really special thing. What more could you hope for? How many ingredients do we get to come across like that in our careers? For me it's a symbol of many different things. On the one hand, I'm a firm believer in the idea that in the way you choose to do any one thing is really indicative of the way that you will do other things. The way you do anything is the way you do everything.

CS: Right. For me, the corn is sort of the ideal situation for how we choose food and how we cook food. My commitment to the people that work with me and the people that come to eat at my restaurant is that we will put in the work and we will put in the care to choose the best ingredients. That doesn't mean the most expensive and it doesn't mean the rarest. It just means good ethical people with good sensibilities choose to grow a particular food because of its cultural value and also because of its sensual value, because it is a beautiful plant or because the resulting fruit is beautiful and delicious or aromatic. Or they'll fall in love with some part of it. Fishermen are sort of bound to the species that they fish in particular and they have a real love for them.

Taco María always looks for the best ingredients and we look for people in our communities that are excited about cultivating or growing or farming or catching those ingredients. That's a promise. I also feel like that's a responsibility that we have. As chefs, as restaurateurs, we make the decision to make our living feeding people. My view is that as long as I'm able I will make good decisions. Decisions that are beneficial to as many people as possible in choosing the food that we cook to eat.

Photo by Anne Watson.

Now, how do you square that with the idea of cooking and preparing food on a much larger scale for many, many more people out of a place like Ace Hotel? We have an obligation to make these good decisions even at a place like Ace. Even at a place that does volumes like that. Especially at a place that does volumes like that because we can have the most impact. Because we are leaders in bringing this corn to the table here in the United States. We're early experimenters, early adopters and we've since shared a lot of knowledge within our community and shared this corn with a lot of different restaurants.

We have an opportunity to draw a line in the sand and say commodity GMO corn largely from the United States has had an impact not just on the environment, but also on culture. There used to be as many varieties of corn as there are last names in Mexico. Each was sustained by generations of single families on a single patch of Earth. Now larger than 97% I think, at last count, of the maize corn grown in this world is genetically modified and genetically modified not for the right reasons. I don't try to put the focus on genetic modification because it's certainly not an anti-technology stance that we take. I'm a former technologist, I'm a believer in science, but it's not so much skepticism against the science of hybridization or genetic modification so much as it's in defense of the culture that naturally, historically cultivated plants. Corn is one of them.

As well as the corn tortilla, because maize corn has been bred into this commodity. More for its technical properties than anything else.

What do you mean its technical properties? Its ability to be made into syrup, plastic, etc? Absolutely. Corn’s starch and sugar content that can be used through all sorts of different processes to create plastics or sugars or starches or fillers or fat replacers, things of that nature. Versus, I think, the more enjoyable aspects of corn. The aromas, the colors, the different types of starches that yield a different tortilla. One more pliable, one softer than the other, one better for frying, one better for making posole. Not one, but hundreds of types of corn, more appropriate for different applications. We're making tacos here at Taco María and now here at Ace Palm Springs and we're choosing these beautifully pastured meats and amazing farmed fish or wild caught fish, pastured eggs, great organic California dairy. We're doing all these things and to put that on a commodity tortilla that doesn't taste like anything is not only a shame, but it's less delicious than the alternative, which is to source a really good ingredient and learn how to make a superior tortilla out of it. That's really what it's about for us. Corn, to me, is also symbolic of perceptions of Mexican food in this country, or even in Mexico. Which is to say that tacos should be a cheap thing. The idea of a taco is bound to this sub one dollar price. The idea of a 99 cent taco, or a 50 cent taco, dollar taco is in our vocabulary. Because of that, it establishes this idea and reinforces this idea that Mexican food and Mexican culture is worth less than other things somehow. Would you rather eat a dollar taco or a dollar burger? We all have that same prejudice. Even Mexicans like myself born in this country, we all have that prejudice, we all answer that question instinctively the same way. 

Photo by Anne Watson.

It's very important to me to share something that I found that is very, very special. A real ingredient, from Mexico, that survives the machinations of industrial agriculture and that we have a chance to create a fair trade market for that benefits the people that produce it. As a bonus, it's incredibly delicious. What more could we really ask for? Any opportunity I get to sell another taco is an opportunity to introduce people to a very special agricultural product that has a lot of history and a lot of symbolism and ultimately transmits more pleasure to the people who are enjoying it. You said earlier that you use to be a technologist, how did you first get into cooking? Is there an early memory that feels particularly resonant?

CS:Yeah, cooking's always been a part of my life. I think a lot of Mexican families feel that way. If you have any Italian friends they'll tell you the same thing. Cooking is just automatic. I was reading an article recently about indigenous cultures in Australia who don't have a word for “musician” because there's no question there. No one would ever ask the question, "Are you a musician?" There's no other. CS: Exactly, there is no other. You just are a musician. In our family, on both sides, both my father's family and my mother's family, there really isn't a question as to whether you're a cook. You just are a cook. You just cook. You think about food all the time. Everyone's cooking, everyone's participating. You're working on one meal together as a family and you're already thinking about your next meal or preparing for your next meal. Or preparing for tomorrow's dinner. There's this continuity and we take for granted that everyone cooks. Cooking has always been a part of my life. I grew up in my parent's restaurant. When they came to this country they went in to food service like so many other people. My mother in the front of house, my dad in the back of house. They're both great cooks. They opened a restaurant together. They took over a restaurant together, bought a restaurant together when I was very, very young and I only remember growing up in the restaurant. I don't remember a time before that. As to how I came to cooking professionally after a career in technology — when I was younger the computers and the internet were not quite the cultural force that they are today and it was something that I gravitated towards. It was easy and natural for me. I was a programmer and a developer for many, many years. I was a network engineer. I was a graphic designer. I did 3D. I did all sorts of things when I was younger. I think I started working professionally in computers when I was 17 and by the time I was 22, I think 23, I had a six year, multifaceted career in technology and worked at very, very early startups. 

It didn't occur to me until I was in my early 20s and at the onset of maturity that I realized that it really wasn't something that I was passionate about, it was just something that was in my environment that was easy for me. I was finding that I wasn't getting any social or emotional or artistic satisfaction in that work. I had learned to think empirically and procedurally and to be very detail oriented. I moved to San Francisco extensively to further my career in technology before realizing that I was surrounded by this incredible food culture and restaurants unlike I had ever experienced before having grown up in Orange County. Farmers’ markets with vendors from all these different cultures and produce that I had never seen before. Hundreds of varieties of tomatoes I had never seen before.

In Mexican cuisine, tomatoes are critically important, yet we don't know have access to the huge varieties of Mediterranean tomatoes. We haven't known that in our culture. When we used to make salsa, we would just use the same standard Roma type tomato. That was the definitive tomato in Mexican cuisine, because that's what was available. And then there I was in San Francisco and I'm seeing hundreds of different varieties of tomatoes and I knew instinctively that a better tomato would make a better salsa. A freshly dug onion from the farmer's market makes a better sliced onion to go on top of your carnitas taco. It's just true. A bunch of cilantro pulled by its roots with the organic earth still clinging to it when you buy it at the farmer's market is superior cilantro. I just found in food and cooking something that I hadn't found in my previous career which is this emotional connection to the medium that I was working with. Also, a very real connection to the people who are ultimately the consumers of my work. That was it. At that point there was no looking back.

Amazing. Seems like there was something about the physical nature of it all. The image of pulling cilantro out of the ground feels polar opposite to the idea of computer programming which seems so abstract and intangible. Maybe even isolating. CS: Very much. I guess I'll put it this way, once I got out there into the farmer's market and into the field and on my feet and into the kitchen working really hard to produce really great food, it was no surprise to me why I was unhappy and unhealthy sitting at a computer, staring at a screen, living inside my own mind — inside my own inflated sense of intellectualism. Working in technology on things that were ultimately trivialities. I worked in the video game industry, no real human connection there at all.

Whereas with the immediacy of cooking, it still satisfies those parts of my brain. I can still think procedurally and I can still be very organized and very disciplined and very detailed in my work. I can still dig deeper and find more and learn from scientific inquiry into the products that I'm working with or into their composition or into the techniques that we use in the kitchen. Also there's a lot to be drawn from. There's a lot of satisfaction to be drawn from studying and understanding of the cultural aspect of what we cook. In a lot of ways I'm still exercising the same parts of my brain.

Definitely, they're just two different languages. It seems you’ve found a place that exercises your natural talents, passions and creativity at the same time.

CS: Very true. I'm very grateful that I got laid off from that tech. We are too. Taco María celebrates the flavors of lost kitchens. We talked about that a little bit in terms of heirloom corn, but I'm interested in kitchen traditions and culinary cultures that are endangered and that you're bringing back and how we can help preserve them. CS: I think that the tortilla is the most obvious and important one because of the way corn has changed. It has really turned the tortilla into this sort of valueless object. Even Mexicans in Mexico don't really value the tortilla much. Sad and ironic considering the Aztec are the people of corn. They consider themselves to have been made from corn. In a very literal sense, we are made from corn because it's the foundational starch of our cuisine, like rice in other cuisines or wheat in other cultures as well.

Also, the redefinition of Mexican food in the United States is hidden from so many people, including American-born Mexicans. A lot of the cultural richness and a lot of the flavors and techniques and traditions of Mexico. Every region of Mexico has extremely different cuisines. There are similarities, but it's a big country with a lot of different international influences and every state has interpreted those influences differently. There's so much more to Mexican food. Ten years ago, molé was relatively unknown even though it continued to be made in grandmothers’ kitchens and moms’ kitchens in Mexico. It was something that I didn't get to enjoy very often, but when we did visit Mexico there was this thing from our family, from our past — a recipe handed down that was wildly different from anything I had tasted before. There are so many dishes and preparations like that. That’s where we look for our inspiration. I draw inspiration from what's growing in the Earth around us, what's swimming in the ocean beside us and also where we come from, where I come from, where my cooks come from. We get to learn about what we have in common or how we interpret the same ingredient differently. How we interpret the same dish differently. In a lot of ways, Taco María was an exploration of my identity and it grew to be an exploration of the identities of the young, very enthusiastic, very curious, young people that work with me. It just so happens that the overall majority of them are first or second generation Mexican-American kids. Those are the people that naturally gravitated towards us. Interestingly at King’s Highway you have a kitchen full, almost completely, of first or second generation Mexican-Americans as well. You have Amigo Room on the side of the bar and you have King’s Highway, a reference to Camino Real which is at the intersection of where Ace is.

Photo by Anne Watson.

There's this opportunity to connect the people who are cooking food in that kitchen to the very real, very present cultural influence that Mexico's had on southern California. And to a food that is authentically Californian in the sense that it is a hybrid of Mexican and American culture. We can do that with pride because we're putting it on excellent tortillas and because we're drawing flavors not just from California and a literacy of contemporary cuisine and California cuisine, but also because we're drawing from our own, very real, personal experiences and our identity. I like to think that the new menu reflects that.

A lot of Latino cooks often work in restaurants that are driven by non-Mexican or non-Latino chefs and yet there's tacos on the menu. I don't need to describe to anyone, anyone can be sympathetic in that to understand what it would be like to be a Mexican being asked to cook a certain bastardization of Mexican food. Do that every day for a living and to put up these soulless tacos day after day to make a living. I think that's one of the really exciting things about this. Again, we take for granted that Mexican food is one of the strongest influences in California cuisine. Here we are in a place where the menu and the vibe sort of leans a little bit Mexican to begin with. Here we have an opportunity to do something fun and respectful, but also irreverent and really play with the multiculturalism and that's the idea behind the menu. I hope I'm not putting everyone to bed with my anthropological culinary musings here.

Are you kidding? We're all a bunch of nerds here. CS: I know. That's what drew me to you guys. That's why I signed up. My people. Speaking of, what other kinds of art, music, books and culture inspire you both in the kitchen and outside the kitchen?

CS: That's a really great question. I'm hungry for inspiration from other disciplines in my work, in my cooking. That's something that I'm always looking for. I draw influence from music. After being like musically totally illiterate, almost deaf in music, growing up because I was such a computer and book nerd. When I was younger, music was this thing that was very outside of me. The last several years I've become completely passionate about music. I'm just trying to do this chef thing until I can retire and study music full time. And make fine furniture. I have become very passionate about music theory as a description of a language for creating emotion. I find a lot of parallelism in many of the great thinkers of musical composition. I can't say that I'm an expert, I'm a beginner in every way, a beginning student. I do draw a lot of inspiration from there, from the study of music theory and the thoughts, the wisdom of great composers, for example.

I'm also really passionate about working with my hands, of course. Another hobby of mine is woodworking, which I sort of picked up again from when I was younger. I used to do a lot of that sort of thing and then I'd pick it up again when I was building my first restaurant in Taco María. Largely because we were running out of money and I felt the need to finish many of the things myself. Build a lot of the furniture, do a lot of the work for the business. 

I made a decision to use real materials — that there wouldn't be plywood or anything false. Nothing would appear to be anything that it actually wasn't, which I thought was an idea that was important to my food and I thought that the construction of the restaurant should be the same. We choose great ingredients and treat them with care and they would be timeless. Respectfully defer to the natural beauty of ingredients and work with that. I should say the materials in the case of woodworking. That was very important to me. Since then I've become passionate about leaving power tools behind — saws and whatnot — and working with my hands with traditional woodworking. I was reading recently a book from the University of Wisconsin Forestry program where they're talking about milling wood, milling trees. When a tree is cut for lumber, first the tree is felled and then it's allowed to age and once it's properly aged it's cut into large planks on a big radial saw. A traditional wood worker, a craft wood worker, was speaking to this process of milling and saying, most people or construction workers go to the hardware store, they go to the lumber yard and they buy pieces of wood, but a craftsman thinks about the tree and harvests features from that tree. I enjoyed his use of the word harvest. If you're going to build four beautiful legs for a table or a chair, the real craftsman would look at the plant itself, the tree itself and make a decision about what features of the grain and the knots and the different transitions and textures and appearances of the tree he or she would choose to harvest from that tree. I saw a lot of parallelism to what we do as chefs as well. Great ingredients always offer more for you to work with and knowing those ingredients well, understanding their biology and their growth and their health and their properties and their composition helps us be better chefs. Helps us to make more informed decisions about how we can express the best parts of a particular ingredient. I don't know if that connection is as good as I want it to be, but it's a place where I draw inspiration as well.

Of course, every form of visual art inspires me. I've always been a great fan of film and really all forms of art. Understanding any form of narrative helps us understand how to be better cooks. Cooking is festive storytelling. All of the same structures and mechanisms can find some parallel in cooking. Whether it's about first establishing a mood or an expectation or a space or a particular emotion before introducing a surprise or an opposite or a reveal. Any study of narrative, music or literature or film can influence cooking. Those two, music and woodworking are two of the most prominent influences for me, places where I find parallelism, but really you can look at any of the arts. I'm always, like I said, I'm starved to find more connections between other arts or other disciplines and the work that I do. It's very gratifying.

You can find the new King’s Highway and Amigo Room menus here.

[bby-n-blog]

1 - 125, u wont

1. What is your full name? Norma Alicia Lopez

2. What is your nickname? Norms

3. What is your zodiac sign? Virgo

4. What is your favorite book series? LOL TWILIGHT

5. Do you believe in aliens or ghosts? Both

6. Who is your favorite author? Michael Faudet

7. What is your favorite radio station? Anything tbh

8. What is your favorite flavor of anything? Does dick count? JK. Mint Chocolate. 

9. What word would you use often to describe something great or wonderful? “OMG BITCH GUESS WHAT”

10. What is your current favorite song? Love on the Brain by Rihanna 

11. What is your favorite word? Puta

12. What was the last song you listened to? Marvins room by Drake

13. What TV show would you recommend for everybody to watch? CRIMINAL MINDS AND BLACK MIRROR

14. What is your favorite movie to watch when you’re feeling down? Boy meets girl

15. Do you play video games? yessss 

16. What is your biggest fear? My ex coming back or someone breaking in while I’m home alone.

17. What is your best quality, in your opinion? I’m a peoples person so I get along with many people.

18. What is your worst quality, in your opinion? I stay quiet when something is bothering me

19. Do you like cats or dogs better? WELLLLLL....BOTH BUT MORE LOVE FOR MY DOG JACK APPLE.

20. What is your favorite season? Summer

21. Are you in a relationship? No

22. What is something you miss from your childhood? Being pure.

23. Who is your best friend? Some puta named MIchelle Garcia since 2005 + my neighbor. @kz0ld + Carlos @arerrehsolrac

24. What is your eye color? Dark brown, almost black.

25. What is your hair color? Natural hair color is Chestnut Auburn 

26. Who is someone you love? Does sushi count?

27. Who is someone you trust? My 2 bffs Mich and Carlos

28. Who is someone you think about often? uhmmm...

29. Are you currently excited about/for something? FOR THE NEW RING COMING OUT

30. What is your biggest obsession? SUSHI AND FRIDA KAHLO

31. What was your favorite TV show as a child? RUGRATS

32. Who of the opposite gender can you tell anything to, if anyone? Carlos my bff.

33. Are you superstitious? yess

34. Do you have any unusual phobias?Disposophobia – The fear of getting rid of stuff triggers extreme hoarding.

35. Do you prefer to be in front of the camera or behind it? In front lol

36. What is your favorite hobby? drawing

37. What was the last book you read? Dirty Pretty Things

38. What was the last movie you watched? White Chicks

39. What musical instruments do you play, if any? None.

40. What is your favorite animal? My Jack Apple

41. What are your top 5 favorite Tumblr blogs that you follow? I don’t have any yet :’( New blog.

42. What superpower do you wish you had? Reading minds + seeing into the future

43. When and where do you feel most at peace? Navy Pier dock

44. What makes you smile? Sushi or just the unexpected thoughts like visits..etc

45. What sports do you play, if any? Soccer and Volleyball

46. What is your favorite drink? Squirt the drink

47. When was the last time you wrote a hand-written letter or note to somebody? To my ex.

48. Are you afraid of heights? yes. very much.

49. What is your biggest pet peeve? Loud chewing

50. Have you ever been to a concert? Yes

51. Are you vegan/vegetarian? No

52. When you were little, what did you want to be when you grew up? Artist 

53. What fictional world would you like to live in? Vampires and werewolves 

54. What is something you worry about? Everything `

55. Are you scared of the dark? Yeah

56. Do you like to sing? Lol yeah but I suck

57. Have you ever skipped school? LOL YESS

58. What is your favorite place on the planet? My room

59. Where would you like to live? Anywhere I can afford lol

60. Do you have any pets? Yes, my Jack Apple

61. Are you more of an early bird or a night owl? Both

62. Do you like sunrises or sunsets better? uhm hard question. I like both tbh

63. Do you know how to drive? LOL DOES CRASHING COUNT?

64. Do you prefer earbuds or headphones? Earbuds

65. Have you ever had braces? No, but I’m getting some this year.

66. What is your favorite genre of music? All types except screamo + dupstep

67. Who is your hero? My mom + grandma

68. Do you read comic books? Yes!

69. What makes you the most angry? Close minded people

70. Do you prefer to read on an electronic device or with a real book? both

71. What is your favorite subject in school? English

72. Do you have any siblings? Yes. 2 little brothers on my moms side and 1 little brother , 1 little sister and an older sister on my dads side.

73. What was the last thing you bought? Movie tickets to go watch Underwolrd Blood Wars with Carlos.

74. How tall are you? 4′11

75. Can you cook? LOL DOES GIVING YOU THE SHITS COUNT IF NOT, THEN NO LOL.

76. What are three things that you love? Art, Sushi and Frida. K

77. What are three things that you hate? Close minded, liars, and feet

78. Do you have more female friends or more male friends? A lot of female friends.

79. What is your sexual orientation? Bi.

80. Where do you currently live? Chicago

81. Who was the last person you texted? My friend Ivette

82. When was the last time you cried? Last night.

83. Who is your favorite YouTuber? Kandee Johnson

84. Do you like to take selfies? Yes lol

85. What is your favorite app? Snapchat

86. What is your relationship with your parent(s) like? Mom: Amazing and Dad???? Eh I can care less about him.

87. What is your favorite foreign accent? None I believe.

88. What is a place that you’ve never been to, but you want to visit? Paris

89. What is your favorite number? 11.

90. Can you juggle? No.

91. Are you religious? No.

92. Do you find outer space of the deep ocean to be more interesting? Yes.

93. Do you consider yourself to be a daredevil? No.

94. Are you allergic to anything? Yes to Cats, dust and something else I can’t remember.

95. Can you curl your tongue? Yes I can even flip my tongue 180 degrees and turn it into a clover leaf.

96. Can you wiggle your ears?No

97. How often do you admit that you were wrong about something? 24/7 even if it wasn’t my fault to make the other person shut up.

98. Do you prefer the forest or the beach? Beach

99. What is your favorite piece of advice that anyone has ever given you? Love and heal, you’re only human.

100. Are you a good liar? Lately, yeah.

101. What is your Hogwarts House? Godric Gryffindor

102. Do you talk to yourself? Sometimes

103. Are you an introvert or an extrovert?extrovert

104. Do you keep a journal/diary? Yes, in my notes of my phone.

105. Do you believe in second chances? Yes. Sometimes I even give 14th chances.....

106. If you found a wallet full of money on the ground, what would you do? Find a way to return it. I hate stealing.

107. Do you believe that people are capable of change? Yes unless you’re close minded.

108. Are you ticklish? OMG FUCKEN YES

109. Have you ever been on a plane? Yeah :)

110. Do you have any piercings? 4 on my right ear and 2 on my left

111. What fictional character do you wish was real? Edward Cullen and Naruto lol

112. Do you have any tattoos? Yes, on my left upper bicep. Its pretty huge.

113. What is the best decision that you’ve made in your life so far? Taking a year off and getting healthy again.

114. Do you believe in karma? Yes.

115. Do you wear glasses or contacts? Both 

116. Do you want children? Yes, 2.

117. Who is the smartest person you know? Yikes..

118. What is your most embarrassing memory? When I peed myself trying to run to the bathroom but my dog scared me.. happened 3 weeks ago....

119. Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? Yes. Many times.

120. What color are most of you clothes? Black and Grey

121. Do you like adventures? Yes very much

122. Have you ever been on TV? Yes when they were showing the  caling people beautiful video.

123. How old are you? 19 going onto 20 this year.

124. What is your favorite quote? 

 “i was born a bitch.i was born a painter.” ― Frida Kahlo

and 

“You deserve a lover who wants you disheveled, with everything and all the reasons that wake you up in a haste and the demons that won’t let you sleep.You deserve a lover who makes you feel safe, who can consume this world whole if he walks hand in hand with you; someone who believes that his embraces are a perfect match with your skin.You deserve a lover who wants to dance with you, who goes to paradise every time he looks into your eyes and never gets tired of studying your expressions.You deserve a lover who listens when you sing, who supports you when you feel shame and respects your freedom; who flies with you and isn’t afraid to fall.You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry.” ― Frida Kahlo

125. Do you prefer sweet or savory foods? Both.

[insecure-hbo-recaps]

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn't go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad's place. Molly's therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She's wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like... it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I'm not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it's weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn't something I thought I'd have a problem with, since obviously I'd never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude's high - he's wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn't really want to try again. This didn't work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week's party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I've spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn't get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I'm not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don't know that we ever get to hear his name and I'm going to make the executive decision that it doesn't matter) says he had fun at Issa's party and she watches him go.

Molly's law office. She's skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There's a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he's going to the beach. That doesn't work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don't have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You're thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn't correct him, since apparently he's also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there's too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it's all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don't give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show's hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn't bothered because she's just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn't exactly disagree with Issa's blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn't doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa's judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren't always wrong when it comes to race. Issa's attitude doesn't sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence's computery job. It looks like he's wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we'd-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn't tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they're also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don't have to... guess what... tuck them in. I've literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like... who's supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can't go because he "promised someone he'd pick up some chairs." So he's going to go to Tasha's family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what's hot and what's not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She's on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she's not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you'd think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren't allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of "feminine" granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn't want to have to be "strong" all the time. That wasn't going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I'm timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn't have lifted that shit. I wouldn't have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I'd have stood there for a half hour if that's as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn't have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens... people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn't escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for "strong black womanhood," in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly's fantastic apartment. She's telling Issa she's putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly's instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That's what it's for. It's not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close "just because we both got brown titties." Issa abides this silently. I can't believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn't do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I'm so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don't even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their "ho phase" together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he "made [her] fall in love with him and shit." Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly "can you teach me how to ho?" "Bitch that's rude... and yes," Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She's also wearing what I'm sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they'll be exotic. Molly doesn't care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he's only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. "Do you have any other friends?" he asks, which Issa doesn't dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she's only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There's only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha's house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn't interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune's, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can't sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don't you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what... I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don't know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it "violent" and "over the top" because I was "loud" and it "plugged into the wall." lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don't actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly's being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I'm going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He's showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he's a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I'm going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn't following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty... but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like... you can't empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There's ribs, there's dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don't pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let's move on. Tasha's relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha's Man Friend... which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn't have to come?

Lawrence's coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he'll be right back. "Oh... ok," she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the "thirsty" character of Tasha. Meanwhile I'm just over here wondering why fellow black women didn't have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she'll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named "Molly's Cupcakes." Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly's insistence on wearing "ugly" dark colors - it's a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week's episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It's clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She's typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her "high pitched fakeness" as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it's obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn't into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly... there's never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What's wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it's not his looks, it's not that he's not a professional peer, it's not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn't mean she has to be. In the larger context of women "wanting it all" or "not settling," the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I'm saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a "five year plan." So I guess that's what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples' lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because... people aren't the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can't reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, "you can't have my joy." She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey's asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those "work people" that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey's they're talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. "Yeah, white people," Mickey says. "There's so many of them," Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: "even if it's wack, you can still get some head!" Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa's excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don't like her body type - not to say she hasn't done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don't enjoy her sex scenes. Molly's sex scenes and Lawrence's sex scenes are great. So it's always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa "respectfully decline[s]." He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it's terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He's wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn't even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There's that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone's drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS "Woot Woot" exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it's some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn't want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn't looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn't want a serious thing he shouldn't have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: "I know how much you wanted me to be there." It's her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he "fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit" he knew he wasn't sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: "You're a fuck nigga. You're worse than a fuck nigga. You're a fuck nigga who thinks he's a good dude." And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don't know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being "good guys" in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn't quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn't get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is "Arpana" which leads me to believe she's supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She's probably Latina tbh. (And no I'm not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey's apartment. She isn't quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn't actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can't even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into "honess."