#support than they can provide' and i wanted to fucking throttle him

[villanevedenier]

is the endless despair of jobsearching making anyone else passively suicidal or just me?

[prompt-master]

THIS BITCH FUCKING DYING XD XD X'D

This is a lighthearted comedy fic, but I’m going to give a warning for mention/talks of suicide and death.

Now this may be a shocking sentiment to share; but being in a killing game fucking sucked, even if you were Momota Kaito. As ludicrous as that statement appears, heroes had a tough time in tragedy too. Kaito found himself feeling disappointed more often than he would like at the sight of his companions distrusting each other. How were they supposed to work together and escape if people were “scared” that they would be “murdered”?! Kaito believed in trust to the bitter end and he would see that philosophy through. To point the finger at others and accuse them of murder is simply what the mastermind wanted him to do, and if Kaito was anything he was not a loser.

But that’s part of what made his sidekick so incredible! No hero was complete without his supporting role! Of course, Shuichi was much more than a supporting role. In many ways he was the protagonist of his own world (Kaito is still the hero of this story, make no mistake). Even though Shuichi relied on the motivation of others to see himself through, he was probably one of the most capable men he’d ever met. His intinution and detective skills were essential to each trial when his thoughts weren’t fogged up by mental recoil. And despite his reclusive demeanor, he was a good friend to have that everyone wanted the best for. Shuichi was Kaito’s sidekick and it showed! For his sidekick had to stand on his own as one of the best!

...Well, maybe sometimes Shuichi didn’t have a leg to stand on because he didn’t look so dependable laying face-down on the ground. 

“Shuichi! Are you- what are you doing?” 

Shuichi was down on the ground in front of his Ultimate Lab with his foot stuck propping the door open. He didn’t lift his head up when Kaito called out his name, instead opting for a string of gibberish and raising one hand off the ground. 

“No, seriously. What are you doing?” Kaito propped the dizzy detective up against the wall, catching him as he nearly swayed back down to the floor in response. Kaito took note of his flushed face and unfocused demeanor. There wasn’t...booze in this killing game right? That would suck. A killing game and booze wouldn’t mix well. Although some may disagree and say a pint is just the pick me up after watching one of your friends be slaughtered.

“M-Momota-kun…” it seemed Shuichi was gathering his bearings again. He braced himself against Kaito by gripping his sleeves. 

“Alright, c’mon Shuichi. Let’s get you to the others. I’m sure they can help us out somehow!”

“Ah but...first things first…” Shuichi looked up at Kaito with a determined resolve in his eyes typically reserved for class trials. 

“If I die, it’s a suicide.”

Huh?

Huh?

HUH?!

WHAT?!

“Shuichi?!” Kaito shook Shuichi by the shoulders until he looked ready to pass out and keel over for good, “Why would you do that?! You have so much to live for!”

And Shuichi had the damn nerve to look exasperated by the panic, “Ack- Momota-kun please calm down it was an accident!”

“How do you accidentally kill yourself?!”

“Well it happens all the time really but-”

“That’s not reassuring coming from you! Just-” Kaito took a deep breath to steady his frustrations, “why the hell are you dying?”

“It’s- haha, well uhm, it’s a bit of a funny story you see-” Shuichi stopped his ramblings at Kaito’s unimpressed glare, Shuichi sighed and slumped over with a sense of shame and embarrassment, “I was in my lab familiarizing myself with the various poisons in case anyone tried to use one, but ended up dropping a bottle of powder on the floor and inhaling quite a bit.”

“T-that sounds pretty serious…” Kaito mumbled. “How do you treat a toxic inhalant?...How do I help you..? Just say the word and I’ll be there, sidekick!”

Shuichi closed his eyes and rested against the door. After a moment he said “At this rate, people will assume you killed me since you were with me all this time. So, to prove that it was a suicide-”

“Shuichi I asked how to save you not how to solve your murder.”

Shuichi tilted his head with a fog of puzzlement in his eyes, “...but solving murders is what I do?”

“Well don’t do it right now! I’m trying to prevent your death!”

“Hm.” Shuichi seemed to have to rethink his evaluation, but the situation hadn’t changed. “This is a killing game, Momota-kun. I don’t think surviving or saving is on par with the course of action the mastermind planned out.”

“W-well if there’s a poison, there’s an antidote right?”

Shuichi shook his head, “No, there’s probably enough materials to make one, but... I’m not a chemist.”

“Let’s ask Iruma to make one then!”

“She’s not a chemist either.” Not to mention Shuichi didn’t trust any sort of edible concoction Miu put together. He wasn’t sure what she would create, but he did know it would make him want to die even faster.

“Ok then, let’s ask Harumaki!”

“Wh- Momota-kun, Harukawa-san kills people!”

“Yeah, so maybe she knows how to unkill people too! I’m pretty sure she can do basically anything.”

Shuichi, with his head now in his hands, decided that it would be easier to simply go along with Kaito’s antics. His body felt weak and gross and his head was splitting, which was a shame because in all honesty that powder had smelt nice. If only it didn’t leave his lab in need of a quarantine. It could’ve been a good candle scent. Or perhaps Shuichi was just veering into delirium. Dying will do that to you. 

He was definitely veering into delirium because one moment he was staring down at his hands and the next he was being carried by Kaito. The worst part of it all was that it didn’t match his daydreams of being romantically carried bridal style by his crush. Instead he was a heavy sack of dead weight plopped against Kaito’s back trying to keep his nausea down as Kaito descended a set of stairs.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” Shuichi mumbled upon realizing that he couldn’t remember Kaito’s plan. If he had one.

“We’re going to get you help!” Shuichi thought it was a pretty bad idea. It would just make the trial even more confusing and he wouldn’t be able to clarify since corpses don’t make for good witnesses. Even if he wanted to voice that though, he ended up in a nasty coughing fit that left him gasping for air.

“Dammit!” Kaito hissed out, “If only Tojo was still here!”

That Shuichi agreed with. If Kirumi was here she would somehow manage to create a cure even though that was absolutely not in the job description of a maid. Her backstory concerned Shuichi quite a bit.

“There he is!” Kaito yelled out, picking up his pace from a light jog to a full run.

“We’re...w-w’re going to ask him for help...?” Shuichi mumbled, before letting out a loud groan, “no, that’s okay...j-just let me die then.”

“Oi Monokuma!” If it weren’t for the imminent danger that would result from it, Kaito would be throttling Monokuma until something broke. “You have to help Shuichi, dammit! Give him a cure or some shit!”

Monokuma tilted his head, looking up at Kaito with pseudo-innocence, “are you stupid or something?”

“Wh-” Kaito nearly lost his anger in confusion, only for it to come back tenfold, “you have to help him!”

“No I don’t, lol.” Monokuma shrugged, “I think the bastard dropping dead would be great! Honestly any of you mistakes would do, he’s not special or anything.”

“He’s our detective!”

“Yeah, you lot are screwed without him, huh?” Monokuma let out a cackle, curled in on his stomach like Shuichi dying was the highlight of his day. “Sounds so beary hopeless to be without a protag, huh! Man we’ve lost two protags in one show, that’s a new record! Someone write that down, I want a medal!”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about…” Kaito shifted Shuichi higher up on his back, ignoring the mumbles in his ear of what evidence to use in the trial, “but don’t start planning yet! Shuichi isn’t dying on my watch!”

Monokuma nodded, “yeah, you are stupid.”

“Fine then I’m going to Harumaki! She was my first plan anyway since you’re so useless!”

“Useless?” Monokuma’s voice wobbled, his head tilted down like a child being told to apologize for wrong doing, “and after all I’ve done for you too...I don’t have to provide you lot with food and shelter, you know.”

“Ahh shut up! We don’t have time for your weird feelings!” 

The world became another dizzying blur as Kaito ran off yet again. “Don’t worry Shuichi! I’m taking you to Harumaki! She’ll have everything figured out!”

---

“You inhaled a toxic powder from your lab?”

Shuichi nodded.

“And you’ve gotten no treatment this entire time?”

Shuichi nodded.

“How are you not dead already?”

Shuichi shrugged.

Maki sighed and pinched her nose, wondering how the hell these two idiots got themselves into such a mess, “Saihara, I always thought if you were going to die it would be from murder and not from some bullshit like this.”

Which was a fair assumption really. Being the detective among them, the group learned to rely on Shuichi’s deductions to solve the murders. Without him, there would be a lot of chaos that the killer could use to trick everyone. Wait. Why has no one tried to kill Shuichi again? Shuchi couldn’t tell if he was a lucky man or not, but considering he was currently dying on his crush’s back it’s safe to say he leaned towards unlucky.

Maki turned to Kaito, glaring at him in a way that said she wanted to help but the situation sucked to do anything, “what exactly do you want me to do about this?”

“Save him, of course!” “I’m not a doctor. I’m the opposite. I kill people.” 

Shuichi wished desperately that he could say “I told you so”

“Look Harumaki, we can’t just let him die like this! We’re his friends so we have to do whatever we can to help him! Not just for us, but for Akamatsu too! She wanted him to live!”

Harukawa’s steel glare seemed to melt a little at that.

“So we need a plan!” Kaito said, “and the plan is to save Shuichi!”

“That’s not a plan, that’s a goal. And it’s a stupidly impossible goal too.”

“Nothing is impossible!”

Shuichi wondered if he could just close his eyes and die to avoid all the yelling he’s had to endure today. 

Another voice joined the conversation with a loud cry of “what’s impossible!?” It was none other than Iruma Miu, confidently placing herself into the scene when no one asked her to. Kiibo was with her, following at a much slower pace with an expression that screamed second-hand embarrassment. With her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face, she ensured all parties had their eyes on her before speaking again.

“Because this hard-headed freak is right! Nothing is impossible with my beautiful plump brain around! What is it you’re looking for? A new way to pull off a fictional r18 move? I knew you three were depraved, but don’t worry Mama Miu has got it covered-”

“No, you idiot.” Maki cut her off without a drop of sympathy. Shuichi didn’t have any sympathy either though, so really it was just relatable. “Saihara is dying.”

“Eh? What?” Miu’s voice fell into a submissive whimper. She curled in on herself and fiddled her hands together. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“Yes dying is usually not good.”

Kiibo worriedly hovered near Kaito, trying to get a good look at Shuichi, “is he ok?”

“No. Because he is dying.”

Miu seemed to have panic in her eyes, “he can’t die! Not yet anyway! Who killed him huh?! Who’s trying to escape?!”

“Iruma!” Kaito ignored her questions, “you can save him, right?! He was poisoned, and you always say that you can do anything!”

“I-I mean yeah I can but… but I don’t know anything about biocompatibility... I honestly just put things in the body and hope it works…I would need more time...”

“Then what about you Kiibo?! Maybe you can...I don’t know- analyze the poison and come up with a cure!”

“My algorithm doesn’t do that...I could do a Google search if we were given WIFI access though...”

“Dammit does anyone have an idea to save Shuichi?!”

“Oh! Oh!” Miu raised her hand, “I’ve seen people induce vomiting in movies to stop poison! That’ll work, yeah?!”

Maki, realizing that this conversation was going to draw out far longer than to her liking, pulled out a chair and sat in it, “first of all: do not do that. Second of all it was an inhalant. I don’t think that will stop his lungs from shutting down any time soon.”

“I know!” Kiibo turned to Miu with a determined look, “Iruma-san! Repurpose my wiring so that my hands function as a defibrillator!”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Maki asked.

“Well it might stop Saihara-kun from dying if his heart stopped!”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Maki stressed, “we just have to lay him down, monitor him,, and hope he lives” 

“Harumaki that’s the same as giving up!”

“Hey hey!” No. God dammit. Sure, let’s keep complicating the dialogue. Shuichi was having a very bad day. Could this poison just finish him off already instead of leaving him on death’s doorstep? Fucking rude. Ouma Kokichi, hearing the glorious sounds of frantic arguing, skipped over to the group with a peachy look on his face.

 “What’s wrong with you all? You’re acting like somebody died.” Kokichi did a dramatic gasp, covering his mouth with his hands, “did someone die?! Did someone finally kill Keeboy?!” 

Kiibo stopped debating with Miu to give Kokichi an unimpressed look, “seriously?”

“Nishishi- yeah, I guess that would be too lucky.”

“Can you take something seriously for once in your life?” Maki glared, “because somebody will die if we can’t figure this out. Saihara inhaled a toxic powder and we aren’t sure how much time we have left to save him.”

“Ehh?” Kokichi’s face turned from confusion to worry. He’d clearly thought Maki was messing with him until he saw Shuichi’s half conscious body draped over Kaito looking very much like a victim of poison. Just as quickly as his expression changed it turned into an over exaggerated ploy they’d all seen a million times. His eyes filled with tears, his lip quivered, his nose started to sniffle. With a hiccup in his voice he began to whimper, “one of you guys is trying to kill my Saihara-chan?! I thought you all were preaching about friendship and trust and ending the killing game!”

Kokichi tilted his head back as he fell into a full on sob. A loud childish ear-breaking wail resounded as tears poured from his eyes with practiced ease. “You guys are so awful!” he yelled in between his sobs, “how could you do this?! Saihara-chan can’t die!”

“Would you shut the fuck up, flat ass!’ Miu yelled. 

And just like that Kokichi’s sobs had turned off. A complete 180 from his previous demeanor. It was like he hadn’t cried at all. His eyes weren’t red and puffy, his nose was dry, and his body was relaxed and poised. He stared camly down at his fingernails, examining them as though this situation was nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his day. “I’m serious, you know. I would never joke or lie. Saihara-chan can’t die, this game wouldn’t be the same without him.”

Kaito nearly asked Kokichi what he meant. Did he care about Shuichi? Did he care about their survival? Was he finally coming around? 

“Oi Monokuma!” Kokichi yelled. Monokuma bounced into the scene as though he was on Kokichi’s beck and call. “Hey did you know that Saihara-chan is dying? Like right now? And we’re all just watching that?”

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t starting his redemption arc then. Maybe he’s still the same piece of shit Kokichi.

“Ouma, what are-”

“Of course I know! It’s pretty funny, huh Ouma-kun?”

Kokichi laughed along with Monokuma, as though they were cut from the same tree. But then suddenly he was back to that semi-disappointed demeanor. “Yeah. Saihara-chan is dying. And doesn’t that really suck? This game is going to sooo be terrible without him. In his trial I bet we’re all going to die because these morons can’t think without him. You know that too, don’t you, Monokuma? WIthout Saihara-chan your show is going to be cut off in this most annoying and unentertaining way. Ahhh I can’t believe this is how the game ends. After all that build up too. I don’t think I even want to be a part of this any more honestly. I’d much rather pig breath die.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

 Monokuma seemed taken aback by Kokichi’s analysis. He pondered it for a moment, nervously looking around and imagining all the lovely executions that would go to waste if Shuichi died right now. With a sigh he pulled out a very suspicious bottle from-...actually where did he pull that bottle from? Not important. What was important was that there was finally a cure in front of them, the one they’d been asking for all this time.

“Give him this and the brat should be good as new!” and with that Monokuma popped away.

Kokichi, holding the vial, smiled brightly at the others, “Here you go! Don’t let Saihara-chan die again okay! I don’t care if any of you others do but Saihara-chan is very special m’kay?”

…

…

...

“So you mean…I really could have asked Monokuma for a cure?! The bastard was just lying to me!?”

[bonfire-at-the-crossroads]

The poo-house is nearly complete now.

The guys have been working full-throttle through the first Irish heat wave EVER. (You can’t get anyone to believe that it isn’t really all that HOT, as it’s only about 75 to 80 degrees - but folks here are not used to actual warmth and daylight. They are ending up in the ER with third degree sunburns and drowning themselves in loughs.)

We’ve managed to keep the lads supplied with all necessary materials - driving all over the country and maxing out my credit cards, buying lumber, floor boards and wood for the ceiling.

Today I drive to Sligo and (hopefully) pick up the completed glass panels for the missing windows. I wanted to support the elderly guy who did the glass for the schoolhouse, by placing the order with him - this was a mistake. He has promised completion for three weeks now, and actually went away on vacation for a week in the middle - he is dithery, ineffectual, and lies to me outright. I can’t understand how this is acceptable in a business situation, but that’s life here in the fast lane…

The floors were laid yesterday. Ray’s Architectural Salvage quoted me £3600 for reclaimed pitch-pine, €2300 for reclaimed pine flooring - and I bought new pine 6 x 1’s from McHales Lumber in Sligo for €360. They are not completely dry or seasoned, so I told Pat to nail the fuck out of them and let them shrink up over time. They are rough and delightful.

The old arched window went in over the stone, and looks brilliant. The antique slates are PERFECT, and the added roof along the back stone wall is a great solution to firming up the entire building. Pat had thrown up some sheets of bent galvanized metal to shunt rainwater away from the wall - but this was stupid and careless - we had a serious chat, and it’s now being handled in a way that is harmonious with the quality and integrity of the structure itself.

He has provided a fabulous old door from his shed-horde, and Dermott cut dipsy-doodles into the ends of the fascia along the roofline - a nod to the shape of the corbels of the schoolhouse itself. He then doubled-down on WHIMSY, and cut two peculiar shapes to cover the joins at the peak. When I asked him what they were about, he shrugged and said “maybe they’re hobbits?” Alrighty then. This has allowed me insight to who Dermott may be on the inside (I asked about the tattoo he has on his right forearm. “It says “I am not here to just take up space” - in Irish. My mom always used to tell me that.”) I said that she must have been a very wise woman.

Little Pat got stung by a spider day before yesterday. He and Pat asked me what I thought about his wrist yesterday morning - and Pat kept saying “it’s just poison ivy.” The poor kids forearm was swollen and hard as a rock - “you are going to see a doctor RIGHT NOW” I told him. “This is blood poisoning, and I’m calling the clinic “ I did, explained the situation - and gawd-bless the Manorhamilton health center - they saw him within the hour. Antihistamines, cellulitis, and arm in a sling. It can turn to sepsis in a heartbeat - so crisis averted thanks to the good doctors who got on top of it in time.

Apparently on top of providing endless pitchers of ice water, cold beers at the end of the days, and snacks - I’m also the designated mommy? Weird. But OK?

The fireplace will be the icing on the cake. It is completely lovely and will be the heart of the building. It has yet to be installed, and I told Pat that he has only two things to achieve - “Don’t burn the house down. Keep me from freezing in the winter” He promised to do both.

It is a building beyond all my happiest hopes. It is so much better than anything I had in my head, or in my humble sketches. I do believe that even though the work has been SO hard, that the guys are actually enjoying the making of it? Dermott and his completely unnecessary little cut-outs yesterday - let me see through the heavy labor and into the spirit of its builders. They are heroes, and I hope to do them honor by filling the space they made for me with beauty and love.

I am the proud recipient of their great gift.

[thepulta]

Future-fic set during the time-skip (provided nobody dies in the next three episodes.) New goal is to draw Lizzie and Marion in their overalls. God, it’s so cute.

-=-

Lizzie was swinging in the little hammock Selmer had strung up in the corner of the mess hall, nose buried in a book. Sally was humming as she polished scraps of metal – God knew what for. Marion had gone into the engine room to grab something and Selmer had his eye on the door, waiting for her to come back to continue their conversation. Sebastian was at the stove making another round of eggs, and Elijah was across from Westlie; a little bleary-eyed as he sipped his tea, but relaxed.

 Funny how the bustle of the mess room was comforting now. The chatter was assurance that everything was alright; all of them were safe and happy. Westlie was doing hypothetical calculations on the closest napkin, chin propped on her hand, half-awake herself. She took another sip of tea and tapped the pen against her lips before glancing up at Elijah. “How about three days off in New Winchester?”

 He gave her a look as dry as his toast. “You’re the captain.”

“I will punch you if you don’t stop saying that.”

“Not very captain-like.”

Westlie considered throttling him. “... Three days it is.”

“Seems good to me.”

They fell back into comfortable silence.

Marion popped back in the room, chatting up Selmer like she never left and they both converged on Sebastian to talk about his eggs and all the ways he was obligated to make them. Elijah yawned and left to sleep. Sally took his place and Westlie passed her the napkin to see what she thought. Easy, relaxed, comforting.

It was late afternoon when they docked in New Winchester.

The city was wrapped in a silky purple glow with a hint of smog. It smelled like fire and... roses? Which was odd, all things considered, but not entirely unheard of. They’d arrived at the peak of blooming season, perhaps. Westlie handed the permit paperwork to Sebastian and took a look over the dock as he headed out to drop it off. The scars of the war were still visible on the city. The dock, for instance, was charred on the edge where a flaming ship had snapped its rope and drifted into the Reach. There were people bustling everywhere though; throngs of skyfarers unloading cargo with a few passengers - women in peacock hats and men with a rougher edge - milling about with their baggage.

“Capt’n.” Selmer gave her a little nod as he popped into the hatch. “’ah was thinkin’- Would it be alright if Lizzie comes along to sell the cargo? She ‘asn’t seen it before- thought it might be a bit educational-like.”

“That’s an excellent idea.” Westlie dug into her pocket with the scrap of address on it. “Warehouse. E. Burnham St. Seems straightforward enough. Why don’t we all go? Three-day vacation and all. I figure whatever hotel you pick you’ll have Marion and Lizzie there too.”

She caught the slightest bit of flush on Selmer’s cheeks as he adjusted his cap. “Aye, that seems likely. I’ll gather ‘em then!”

Elijah poked his head around the corner as Selmer left and shot her a look. “Everyone?”

“Sally can look after the ship and tie things down. One person can be there- or twenty. He has a point. She does need to learn.”

Elijah shrugged, although he didn’t look thrilled and he flipped through one of his notebooks as they waited.

After another fifteen minutes, Sebastian returned with a curt little nod of the head. His butler professionalism still ticked Westlie off even though there was genuinely nothing wrong with it- as she reminded herself for the millionth time as she accepted the notebook and flipped through the ledgers. She nodded back. “Excellent. Permit’s fine. And off we are.”

They made a funny group passing through New Winchester. Lizzie put down her book and cheerfully swung her arms by her side, glancing around at the people and chaos of the city. Marion was periodically getting distracted by the iron-workers selling wares on the side of the road, while Selmer tried to herd both of them weaving around like two overall-wearing cats. Sebastian and Elijah walked together, busying themselves with their own thoughts. It felt like an accordion, compressing and scattering every so often and pausing to regroup when Marion got really invested with some hinges. Part of Westlie regretted bringing the whole crew, but there was the practicality of having Elijah and Sebastian for the sale; Selmer and Marion were so they didn’t have to walk back to the ship or regroup with Lizzie. If anyone was extraneous it was herself. C’est la vie. They were together, this would only take a minute, and it was important to show Lizzie the paperwork.

It took another ten minutes to get to the warehouse; a crumbling brick monstrosity covered with… vines? tucked into the end of Burnham St. cultisac where three other equally run down warehouses hid it from sight. A slight chill from the north blew in and nearby pedestrians turned up their wool collars. There weren’t a lot of them. Westlie frowned and held up the address so Sebastian could read it. “That does say Burnham, doesn’t it?”

“Oi, ‘lijah!” Selmer caught up to them, one arm slung around Marion’s shoulders so she couldn’t wander away, even if she wanted to. “This place seems a bit of a dump!”

“Shh, clients?!” Elijah shot him a look and Selmer grinned, dropping his volume four notches.

“Eh, t’ere all inside.”

“Still, better safe than sorry.” Marion strained a bit as she physically removed the draped arm Selmer had over his shoulder and glanced behind as Lizzie caught up to them.

“Maybe it was damaged in the war,” Elijah offered. “Couple of cracked walls. Some window panes. It takes money to replace those. Same with the vines. Who has money to deal with foliage?”

“True.” Westlie glanced at the piece of paper in her hand. “Let’s hope they have the money to pay us then.”

The barn-style doors were covered with rust and there were a few vines trying to slither down from the top, but they seemed fine otherwise. Westlie stepped up to the doors, considered knocking, but threw her shoulder into the handle instead. They slid back easily to her surprise and she fell forward while a wave of musty, spore-y air burst in their faces. Sebastian caught her shoulder and she gave him a nod. “Thanks.”

“Fuck, that reeks.”

Marion bopped Lizzie on the back of her head. “What did I say?”

“Fine- only on the ship. That reeks though. What is that?”

“Hericium spores?” Westlie glanced at Sebastian. He shrugged. “Hericium’s got a heavy odor, I think. They must grow it here, or some spores got ahold of it and nobody rooted them out. Might explain the vines off the edge?” She shrugged helplessly and stepped into the warehouse. “Hello?”

The warehouse wasn’t colder than the air outside, but it was deeply, disturbingly still. Dust and spores in the air were illuminated by a single hanging lantern, covered with a thin film of Hericium that ended up dimming the light that was coming through quite a bit. The warehouse was three floors tall with giant steel shelves reaching up to the ceiling and one steel walkway following the circumference of the third story. Steel beams supported the room in some mockery of gothic architecture. In the corner, part of the roof was starting to cave in where a shell had smacked into it; the steel in the immediate area was starting to warp under its weight. Funny enough, instead of patching from the outside, or simply replacing the roof itself (which really needed it), the hole was covered on the inside with a giant white sheet? Some sort of fabric. Something itched at Westlie’s mind as she stared at it, but the light was so thin she could barely make out the top of the shelves. Trying to discern the far side of the warehouse was impossible.

“Oi,” Selmer’s hushed voice made them all jump and they turned to look at him. “We got boxes ‘ere.”

They were about five feet tall, some fungal in nature, some wood. Westlie had seen similar, illegal ones, and she reminded herself that it was no longer her place to question, just to deliver.

Speaking of which, Sebastian stepped farther into the warehouse, glancing up on the shelves. “Looks like a mushroom growing hub.”

“All the way to the top?”

“At least the first shelves.”

They all crowded in the middle of the warehouse aisle under the light and glanced between the rows. The air was so thick you could barely make out the walls from the center; vision seemed to range just enough to see from one light to the next going down the center aisle, with each small circle of light stretching into the rows. The brick walls groaned. If there was an office or anything other than shelves, they’d have to find it all the way on the other end of the building near the caved-in roof.

“Fine.” Westlie straightened herself, not entirely sure if she was talking to herself or the crew. “There hasn’t been a wrong address yet.”

Lizzie frowned, glancing up at the shelves as they started walking down the long aisle towards the far wall. “Are those boxes on top, not growing beds?”

Selmer squinted. “Looks like it.”

“How do they get them down?” She paused mid-aisle, looking down one of the rows, and Marion paused with her, making the rest of them stop and look back. “The walkways don’t reach where the shelves are sitting. You can’t get the cargo. ...How did they get them up there..?”

“Fuck,” Selmer whispered under his breath. Marion shot him a look. “’at’s a good point. somethin’s not right about this place, Captain.”

Westlie opened her mouth and was cut off by the slam of the door they’d come in. “Fuck.” She could feel Elijah stiffen beside her as she stalked back the way they’d come. Something skittered in the dark. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” Selmer lunged for the doors with her and they were halfway back when a black shape materialized from the darkness skittered across the floor between them and the door, and hissed with angry, blue, phosphorescent fangs. It skittered off into the darkness again.

“T-t-tha- SPIDERS.” Marion screeched. And she bolted for the door.

“Marion! No! Wait-!”

There was a lot of skittering as Westlie grabbed Marion’s arm and felt the other woman shoot past her so hard she yanked both of them to the floor. A horrific stream of spiders as long as they were tall raced in front of the door. They streamed up the walls, onto the shelves, onto the platform. Westlie felt like they were crawling all over her skin and the way Marion was shaking she felt exactly the same if not worse. Probably worse. Definitely worse. One of the spiders stopped, looked their way, and hissed again. It took a few steps towards them.

Westlie struggled to her feet, dragging Marion up with her. “Selmer, did you-?”

“Nope. Will ‘ah after this? Definitely.”

“Make sure there aren’t any on the sides.” She pulled Fitzroy’s gun out of her pocket, taking a breath as she flicked the safety off and leveled the gun at the sky-spider. She waited for a long second. The spider’s black form loomed in the darkness, waiting too. It hissed.

“Fuck this. Give me that.” Marion snatched the gun out of her hand, leveled it and fired all six rounds directly at the black form.

The sky-spider screeched like a shot banshee and rushed them.

“Marion!”

For a full second Westlie braced herself to punch a spider in the fucking face but it took seven steps, teetered, and then thumped to the ground. The spiders around them hissed in unison.

“Oh, fucking lovely. Those were all the bullets we had.”

“We run for it.” Elijah grabbed Selmer’s arm, tugging all of them back towards the main aisle of the warehouse. They’re on the shelves. We stay in the center; we’re alright. There has to be another exit in the back.”

Something on the edges of the warehouse groaned; a gurgle? It sent a nasty chill down Westlie’s spine and she latched onto Elijah’s rationality. “Keep Lizzie in the center. Selmer, take up the rear.”

Sebastian held up a little oil lighter - a bit useless in the cavernous rows of the warehouse, but light enough - and they bolted down towards the opposite wall. Spiders skittered over the walls. A few hung from the ceiling, dropping down low enough until they swung on to the shelves, then skittered down from the top shelf to the ground, swarming into the aisle behind them.

“Hey!” Sebastian screamed. “Anyone!”

“I’m going to murder that client,” Westlie hissed as they reached the last lantern and pressed forward slower into the dark. Somehow despite the dim light, Westlie realized the white patch that covered the hole in the ceiling was spider silk. “Fucking snap his neck.”

“Lov’ly sentiment- murder the spiders first,” Selmer snapped as they hit the far wall and paused for a second, panting. Sebastian held up the lighter, running it over the bricks. Nothing.

“Oi, there! On the right! Is that a door?”

Westlie saw what he meant and lunged to the right. The skittering grew more intense and then there was a hissed, “Westlie!” And she fucking flew forwards, eating the wood floor as a body smacked on top of her. A box crashed behind them where she’d been a moment before and Westlie could feel the rain of splinters on her back and hair. She could have fucking died. She could have fucking died. “Spiders pushed the box off.” Elijah hissed in her ear. “Get up slowly.”

Her heart was about to leap out of her chest as she stood- slowly- and heard the chittering of the spiders’ legs on steel as they surrounded them and inched closer. The taps echoed in the silence of the warehouse. One or two of the black shapes hissed in the dark. Elijah motioned cautiously to Selmer and they slowly regrouped, Westlie’s arm burning where Elijah helped her up. She stepped back in front with Selmer, fists clenched, since, no bullets, because- last time she checked, this was supposed to be an easy sale.

The chittering grew closer, moving in from the sides of the warehouse, and where, ideally, the exit was. Lizzie glanced up and sucked in a breath. “Ah, Selmer? ‘ere behind us too.”

“Fuck me,” he muttered. Marion didn’t have the presence of mind to swat at his cap. “So they are.”

Westlie could see his brain churning a mile a minute and she was just about to suggest making a break for it as a group when a windy whistle-like sound rang throughout the building. In an instant, everything fell still. No taps, no chittering, no hisses.

“What was that?”

“’ey need a better whistle,” Selmer hissed under his breath.

The sound played again: two low windy notes and one higher pitch; less music and more a groan. The taping resumed, but it was less purposeful, more milling, and- and fainter? Westlie straightened, straining her eyes in the light to see where the black masses were moving. Maybe away? It was too dark to tell. The air was too thick. Fuck these spores. This whole place deserved to burn. Something shuffled in the dark and she clenched her fists. “Hello?”

“Oi! Show yerself!” Selmer shouted out.

There was more shuffling and a humanoid shape with their head wrapped in bandages moved slowly, jerkingly through the black mass of spiders into the circle of light. A Neath-er? Westlie’s breath caught and she glanced behind her at Lizzie. “Stay behind Selmer.” Lizzie didn’t look inclined to go chatting but you know, just in case.

“T’e fuck is his problem?” Selmer hissed as the man whistled again instead of responding.

“He’s a Neath-er,” Westlie said. “Barely a man.”

None of the crew looked pleased by that.

The figure shuffled closer until they could really see him in the lantern-light and they were hit with the overwhelming stench of decay. It had to be the same. Westlie remembered that from the boxes way back when and a shudder ran through her. She cleared her throat. “We need to talk to- to- your employer. A shipment of hours?”

The man faced them for a long second, possibly staring at them from where eyes would be underneath the wrap of bandages. It was mostly his head. Westlie guessed there was a nasty wound somewhere on it, and then the left side of his body was thickly bandaged. Filthy rags hung from the right side, showing sallow, purple skin and scarred fingers. It could have been the light, but it seemed like mushrooms were poking from under the shirt too.

“... is he in pain...?” Marion hissed to Elijah.

Elijah shrugged.

The man finally turned to the right, facing the direction Westlie had guessed the door was in. He raised his good- good?- arm and pointed with a shaking finger towards the wall. “Gggggoooooooo.”

His voice was worse than the whistle. Half-groan, half-breath, like someone had yanked out his vocal chords.

Marion grabbed Lizzie’s hand and speed-walked toward the door, Selmer and Sebastian close behind. Elijah hung back though and Westlie glanced over her shoulder. “... Let’s get the fuck out of here?”

Selmer made it to the door and there was a rush of warm, un-dusty light. What a dear, old friend the light was.

Elijah was looking at the man. “You... you think he’s in pain?” It was a double question, she was pretty sure. Something indued with ‘what the fuck is this’ and ‘how is he alive?’

Westlie stared at him. “How the fuck would I know?” She faced the man and took a breath. “Oi, you. Are you in pain?”

The man let out a breath that seemed like it came from his nose, mouth, and a hole in his side simultaneously. It whistled like death and Westlie’s spine crawled. Elijah looked horrified and fascinated. “Lighttttt...... it burnssss.....”

“Why are you here?”

There was another long, deep, bone-numbingly painful pause. Its body creaked. “Woooorrrkkkkk......”

Westlie shot a quick look at her first mate. “You going to ask him more? Or can I sell that cargo and get the fuck out of this spider hell-hole?”

Elijah hesitated, and it was one of those times his eyepatch seemed to obscure what he really meant. “I’ll... catch up.”

Westlie’s soul groaned, but... the spiders were gone. There didn’t seem to be much danger other than that. She glanced over her shoulder at Marion who was motioning frantically to come through the door. “Don’t take too long. I’ll send Selmer if you don’t join us to make sure you’re not eaten. For fuck’s sake, be careful.”

“Fair enough.” Elijah’s focus immediately narrowed on the thing.

Westlie speed-walked to where the rest of them were peering from the doorway. She glanced behind where Elijah was pulling out a notebook. The bandaged man had turned aside, almost like it was walking away - unproductive for Elijah she assumed, but maybe that’s what he was asking it to do. “He’ll catch up later.”

“Are you mad?!” Selmer hissed.

Marion grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Spiders?!”

“Ok, ok, ok, let me go. I don’t like it either, but look, the fellow’s harmless. Even Elijah could knock him out. Said he wanted to ask him questions.” Westlie shrugged and glanced over her shoulder again. “If he’s not back in a few minutes you can grab him.”

“Selmer will grab him.”

“Why do I have to get him?! Sebastian will get him.”

“Jesus Christ, I’ll get him then. Is there an office?”

“Sebastian headed over that way.” They all turned around. Once they’d closed the door to the warehouse, Westlie could feel her eyes adjusting to the much brighter gas light. The room was more like a storeroom; boxes on the wall with thick white bolts of silk stacked against the wall. There were boxes of packaged mushrooms too but the air wasn’t half as spore-y, and it was easier to breathe. Lizzie looked a bit shaken and she shot a weak grin at her. “Don’t worry. First experiences are always the worst.”

Marion and Selmer glanced at each other and Westlie could feel them examining that fact with a quick flashback to New Winchester and the start of the war. Marion shrugged. “Checks out.”

They headed into the next room, which seemed to just be for silk, and then into the next; a warm, carpeted, not-at-all dilapidated front office with gas sconces on the wall and a sprawling oak desk. There was a man officiating who didn’t quite look like he belonged in a thick brown coat and white beard. If Westlie had fifty pounds to spare she’d bet he was a Londoner who popped off to the Reach and was enjoying some anonymity.

Sebastian was seated at the front of the desk, flipping through some paperwork. He nodded politely as they walked in and the man sitting behind the desk turned to look at them. He grinned, showing all his teeth, but the smile didn’t meet his eyes and it seemed very hollow. “Came the back way, eh?”

“Oh, I would have deeply appreciated a sign pointing to the right way in.” Westlie glanced around the room. For a front office, there were no visible doors other than the one behind them. “Mind explaining the murderous swath of spiders?”

The man’s grin stayed on his face and it sent chills down her spine. “My... employees have a tendency to get a bit violent if you don’t leave them alone. They double as bodyguards.”

Selmer and Marion hissed it with her at the same time. “You employ spiders?”

The man shrugged, still grinning. “Saves quite a bit on rafter work and manpower. Place a bit of food on a box and they pull it down for you. And extra money from the silk.”

Jesus Christ. It’s Arthur again, but with spiders.

Westlie bit her tongue so she didn’t tell him he was fucking insane and to hire some skinny fucks because mushrooms weren’t goddamn heavy. Marion looked like she was about to be sick. Selmer had turned a deep purple. On the other hand, Lizzie was taking it better than all of them.

Sebastian could undoubtedly see the struggles because the corners of his mouth twitched up faintly and he cleared his throat to save them. “Here, Lizzie.” She popped over to him and he flipped through the paperwork, pointing out the contractual agreements that bound seller and buyer.

While they looked, the man behind the desk kept grinning. Every thirty seconds or so he shot a glance at Westlie and she got the feeling he was deeply amused by her brown front where she’d faceplanted on the dirt floor of the warehouse. She resisted the urge to brush it all off on his red carpet. Eventually she realized if he looked again she was going to leap over Marion and throttle him. Selmer looked like he was going to pop an artery too and she tapped his shoulder. “’s check on ‘lijah, eh? Marion, you staying with Lizzie?”

Marion mutely nodded and Selmer copied her, fists clenched. He and Westlie slipped into the back and they got one full room away before Selmer exploded. “THERE WAS NO FRONT DOOR.”

Westlie furiously ripped off her vest and shucked down her front, smacking the dirt off it. “I do not walk around like this!” She put on a mocking tone. “Oh, I save quite a bit on rafting work and manpower. Hiring SPIDERS?!”

“There was NO FRONT DOOR.” Selmer gestured inarticulately at the back where Marion and the rest of them were. “He walks through that fucking warehouse every day! That’s a dead end! He made us walk through that. He makes all his sellers walk through that!”

“What the FUCK. Who is that much of a DICK.” Westlie grabbed a mushroom from one of the shelves nearby and threw it at the wall where it bounced off with a soft smack. “If he wasn’t a client. Oh, if he wasn’t a CLIENT. Even if he IS a client.”

“Lizzie was in danger. We brought her into a FUCKING SPIDER DEN.”

“HE EMPLOYS SPIDERS.” Westlie screeched something at her hands, waving them back towards the warehouse door. “HE EMPLOYS SPIDERS. HOW DO YOU PAY A SPIDER, SELMER.”

“You feed them.” Selmer was suddenly deathly calm and Westlie caught the mood shift. “Captain, you feed them.” He stalked towards the door back to the office.

“Selmer, Selmer!” She snagged his arm before he made it to the door. “Selmer- no.”

“You feed them, Faire.”

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I know. I know. I know. I-” Westlie took a deep breath. “He’s a sick psychotic son of a bitch, but we’re alive, and we’re ok, and that whistle called them off, and I can only assume he was right that the spiders roll as some sort of protection, and we shot one.” She took another deep breath and tried to talk herself into being the voice of reason. “We’re fine now.”

“If that bandaged fellow hadn’t whistled, ‘d all be dead! Lizzie would be dead!”

Westlie shoved down the spike of her blood pressure. “But she’s not! We’re not!”

Someone cleared their throat and Selmer whirled around; Westlie looked from behind him. Elijah was in the doorway, eyebrows raised. “What did I miss?”

“’Lijah, that fucker has no front door and he hires spiders.”

“Hires spiders- you mean-” Elijah put the pieces together slowly and a frown stretched across his face. “Hm. I assume you mean ‘hire’ in the sense of ‘keeps and breeds’ since I’ve never heard of a sky-spider wanting money.”

“’ey would have eaten all of us!”

Elijah took a look at Westlie between Selmer and the door and sighed a bit. “They didn’t though.”

“We’re not gonna do nothin’?!”

“Selmer, as much as I want to, weren’t you the one saying you wanted to be on the ‘right side o’ the law’?” Elijah walked over and patted his arm. “You have every right to be upset, but think of Lizzie and Marion. If it gets out we killed a client. Well, that’s it.”

Selmer’s face was still furious, but he shrugged a little. It made sense.

Westlie let out a breath. “Are they-” Saying ‘spider’ again felt like it was giving fear too much credit and it might set Selmer off again. She cocked her head in the direction of the warehouse. “-still there?”

“No? Wherever they were before, they went back. “The bandaged weaver- he called himself a weaver anyway- went with them. I couldn’t get much out of him.” Elijah flipped open his notebook. “If that’s true, they might have him working because...” he paused “... they won’t eat him.”

Selmer let out a growl and Westlie caught his eye. “Selmer.....”

“He didn’t really say what happened to him. He couldn’t get out more than a few words.”

“... ‘ell, you seem to know quite a bit about ‘em though, Captain Faire. ‘ow about you fill in the gaps?”

Selmer only used the full title when he was pissed and Westlie refused to meet his eye. “All I know is a few boxes from the Neath came into Fairweather once, a long time ago. We weren’t supposed to open them, and I think they were illegal.” She frowned a bit, trying to remember the details. The captain who was shipping them was slimy for lack of a better word, and everything he said felt like a joke. “They had to be transported in another, larger crate too, and even that was covered. Disguise, maybe? We moved the crate from one ship to another at night. Nobody knew what was in them, but whatever it was, it smelled like him. Smelled like death and dust. That thing speaks. It works. It’s.... alive enough?”

They all frowned; the room got quiet until it was too quiet and they all looked at each other, unsettled.

Selmer finally shook his head. “Let’s get the fuck out of ‘ere.”

They walked back towards the office and Selmer opened the door just as Lizzie did. She gave them a bright little smile. “All done!”

“Twelve-ninety for the lot.” Sebastian glanced at Westlie as they shut the door behind all of them. “Ten sovereigns off because they wouldn’t be delivered inside the warehouse.”

“Well-spent,” Westlie muttered back to him.

Elijah, Selmer, and Lizzie surrounded Marion as they entered the warehouse again. Like in the beginning, it was deathly quiet. There were no signs of the spiders, minus the shattered crate of what looked like wood chips. The lanterns swung eerily, and now she was paying attention, Westlie could make out faint strands of webbing swaying from the ceiling. If anything reminded her of the bandages and the stench of decay from the Neather it was that. Fuck this place. Their pace got faster as they slipped through the main aisle until they were nearly running to the entrance. They turned the final corner but Marion stopped dead and choked at the corpse of the dead spider before them.

“Almost there.” Selmer grabbed her arm and lead her around the side, putting himself between her and the corpse. Marion booked it to the doorway and they yanked it open together. Marion squeezed through first, dragging Lizzie; Selmer followed, holding the door open for Sebastian and Elijah. Westlie slipped through last and slammed the door shut. She reached into her pocket for the address and ripped it up as viciously as she could. “Fuck. That. Never fucking again.”

“No offence, Capt’n, ah don’t think it’s safe to even deliver outside.”

“Well, we do have to do it.” Westlie mentally rolled through the list of people who could stave off a dozen sky-spiders if they had to. “We’ll hire a few dock hands tomorrow. You don’t deliver it alone.”

Selmer didn’t look thrilled, again, but that was the best compromise they were going to reach.

Lizzie was the only one who didn’t have her spirits dampened as they walked back to the Pyrrhus and she flitted between chatting to Marion and Selmer - somewhat subdued - and Sebastian, who was surprisingly blasé about the whole thing. It seemed like they were chatting about prices and haggling for a while, and Westlie eventually felt herself tune them out.

The world passed in a blur from reaching the Pyrrhus where Lizzie gave an enthusiastic retelling to Sally, who was pissed that they hadn’t brought their gunner, until sometime in the morning when a few burly dock hands showed up for their pay. They paid them. Selmer collapsed in the lounge afterward and ordered a beer. Westlie considered ordering one too, but settled for a cup of earl grey. The waiter brought it boiling and over-seeped per usual, but it tasted unusually delicious.

Selmer glanced at her as he downed half his pint in one go. “Nev’r again, right?”

“Never-fucking-again.”

They toasted to that.

-=-

Elijah laid his side of the paper on the table and lightly circled one of the ads. “There’s this one. Lustrum is a nice, simple run. Might as well do that, then make a stop for the one you found at Carillon.”

Westlie glanced at him from her own section of the classifieds. “The winds are tricky that direction.”

“…That sounds like a yes.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted something easy.”

“Just an offer. I thought you might get bored.”

“Well, I do love being woken up at midnight.” There was a comfortable pause as they both grinned behind their papers. Westlie took another sip of her tea. “We can sign the ledgers later today.”

There were a good ten minutes of silence. Westlie was vaguely aware of the rest of the crew in the lounge now, Marion looking more chipper than she’d been the past two days - enthusiastic even - and Selmer still a bit subdued, but mostly the same. They seemed to have gotten past the incident. Lizzie was having a sulky morning with her cap pulled halfway over her face; probably an unrelated mood.

Westlie flipped into the Local section, paused, then leaned forward and set down the paper. “Elijah, look at this.”

“Another job?”

“No, no. This.” She pointed at one of the articles on the side. It was perfunctory.

WAREHOUSE FIRE.

Early this morning, two buildings on Burnham St. burned due to vegetation overgrowth. Warehouses were abandoned several years ago due to building code changes and were damaged in the war. No official occupants or deaths reported. Witness accounts of shots in the vicinity, but no bodies. No sightings of vandals or looters present.

Westlie and Elijah stared at each other for a long second, then simultaneously looked at Marion - cheerfully eating two cherry danishes and settling in on full plate of breakfast.

“... You don’t think-”

Elijah looked at her. “Do you want to do anything about it?”

Westlie looked at him. “.... No.”

“Then don’t do anything about it.”

She shrugged and they kept reading.

[msjr0119]

One Temptation

Part One- Stay with me

*This new series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Riley Brooks moves back to New York after leaving five years prior- struggling to get by in life she wanted to go home. After getting mugged, a woman and man come to her rescue and offer her a job at their strip club. A rich business man Liam Rhys is forced to visit the club as part of his bachelor party. What will happen that night?

Catch up on the Introduction here.

Tags-if you want to be removed let me know 😊: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm @cordonianroyalty @dcbbw @qammh-blog @beardedoafdonutwagon @jared2612 @princess-geek

******

Liam fell silent, not knowing how to respond. One stupid mistake years ago, had fully come back to haunt him. Maybe if he had tried to prove it was a mistake, Riley could have possibly forgiven him- even if she would never forget. After the mistake, he fell into a depression. Used his money and charm to lure women into a trap. But none of them compared to Riley, the woman who bent over backwards for him, supported him, loved him. Witnessing how much anger she had towards him, he knew he would never regain her trust or love again.

“I think you should all leave.” The security demanded, providing Liam with looks that could kill.

“It’s fine Pete, only one of them should leave. The other three won’t cause any harm.” Riley suggested, providing a smile towards them all before narrowing her eyes at her ex.

“Sir, if you don’t leave willingly- I will have to brutally escort you out.” Liam shook his head, he didn’t want to cause more of a commotion but he knew he would be forced out if not.

“Can I just have a quick word with her before I leave.” Leo, Drake and Maxwell looked concerned wondering how Riley would react. Taking a deep breath, Riley nodded and motioned for Liam to follow her to a secluded area in the club. Folding her arms she waited for him to elaborate on whatever bullshit apology he had.

“I just want to say, I’m sorry for any distress I’ve caused you. I’m sorry to hear about your gran, she was a marvellous woman....”

“I don’t want your sympathy Liam. Is that all you wanted to say? If so, it’s been good seeing you. Goodbye.”

“Wait... I’ve never stopped thinking about you all this time. You’re still so beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Stepping closer to him, she could feel his heartbeat increase. Whispering in his ear - but you can shove that charm right back up your arse. We are done Liam, so don’t even try to talk to me ever again.

Before he could respond Leo came over, escorting Liam out of the club. Before returning Liam home, he explained to Maxwell and Drake that he would meet up with them at Kismet. Before he left he had asked for the two men to persuade Riley to go with them all. With Liam out of the picture they would be able to catch up with her, maybe get her to open up about her moonlight flit from all those years ago. They knew Liam had broken and shattered her heart in a million pieces- but she also did the same to them disappearing into thin air.

*****

Riley was relieved that Liam had left, it had been five years- and she still was heartbroken. Not realising that Maxwell and Drake was still there, her heart nearly stopped beating as the kid at heart crept up towards her.

“Jesus Max! Are you wanting me to have a heart attack?” Holding her chest, he looked concerned at her- not realising why she was so jumpy.

“Sorry blossom. Could you get me and Drake a drink please?” Fluttering his eyelashes, she softly smiled at his goofy grin.

“Of course I can. Sit down. Do you want your usual? And I assume Drake is a whiskey man?”

“Yep and yep. Also, do you fancy coming to Kismet for old times sake when your done?”

“I don’t think my manager would allow me to go. Maybe another time.” Maxwell saw the blonde woman observing the interaction made between the two of them. Waving her over once Riley had left to retrieve his drink order, he wasn’t afraid to ask her for permission to steal her worker for the night.

“May I help you sir?”

“Your employee, Riley Brooks- she’s my like my sister. I haven’t seen her in so long, I was wondering if she could ignore the curfew and would be allowed a bit of time off. I’ve got dollar which I’m willing to pay. I’ll look after her, and she will be back for work tomorrow.” Laying out the money on the table, the clubs manager’s eyes widened. She knew Riley wouldn’t be missed for one night.

“Of course Sir. I’ll let her know that she can finish in half an hour. Thank you for your custom.”

“No thank you ma’am”

Sitting back at the table with Drake, waiting for Riley- Maxwell text Leo. Knowing that Leo would be pleased with the result of the positive news, he impatiently waited for the reply.

She refused to come out, but her manager was easily bribed. Bring on the shots! And don’t mention Liam!

Well done Max. Madeleine is pissed. But fuck them. They were arguing as I left. See ya soon

“Sex on the beach for my favourite friend. And a whiskey for the handsome stranger. And Max I could throttle you at times. I didn’t want to go. Now I’m getting forced to ‘doll’ myself up.”

“Sorry. I’ve missed you. We all have. Even Drake’s missed ya.” Riley’s eyebrows shot up, so did Drakes. Wondering how thick Max really was- no one can miss someone who they had only just met.

“I don’t know her.” Riley nodded in agreement. She could foresee Maxwell’s mind working overtime. Dreading to think what ludicrous words or phrases his mouth would slip out next.

“Still time to get to know her ‘handsome stranger’.” Nudging Drake’s shoulder, he felt like asking Riley to bust Max’s nose as well. She had already busted Leo’s, slapped Liam- they do say things come in threes.

“Riley I am so sorry. I had no part to play in this. It’s all Max and Leo. I’m quite happy with a bottle of whiskey.”

“Heh. I bet you would marry a crate of whiskey. I’ll go and get ready then. Wonder how many more surprises I’m going to come across tonight?”

*****

Drake and Maxwell wondered what was taking Riley a long time to get ready. Maxwell explained to him that usually she would get ready before you could click your fingers. Explaining that she was never one to put in much effort- she didn’t need to, she had this natural beauty that radiated around her. Finishing their drinks, Maxwell paid the final bill- just as Riley arrived wearing a tight little black dress which showed off her curves.

“Ready gentlemen?”

“Wow! Yes let’s get this reunion started.” Rolling her eyes back, she knew the night was going to end up messy- it always used to.

Arriving at the club, Leo greeted them outside. Grabbing Riley’s hand he escorted her to the bar and got the first round in.

“Slow down Ri, I don’t want to carry you home.” She had currently drank more drinks than the three men put together. Five years ago, she was the biggest lightweight- now she was drinking them all under the table.

“Leo shut the fuck up. I’ve had a shock. Shots are needed tonight! I need to let my hair down.”

“Riley Brooks!” Shit. Attempting to ignore that familiar stern voice, she just wanted the floor to swallow her whole.

“B, long time no see.” Faking a smile, providing a nervous laugh- she knew he wasn’t going to be welcoming her back with open arms.

“Where the hell have you been?”

“Bertrand please don’t lecture me. You’re not my father.”

“No I’m not. But I’m the closest father figure you have.”

“Please you’re not much older than I am.”

“Even so. I watched you and Maxwell grow up. You were like family to us. I always warned you to not date a Rhys. No offence Leo.” Leo shrugged his shoulders, not really giving two shits that Bertrand was criticising his brother- he deserved it.

“Bertrand please. I’ve moved on and I do not care about Liam anymore. He’s in the past and that’s where he is staying.”

“Where are you living? What are you doing with your life?”

“She’s a pole dancer and a waitress.” Maxwell shouted, not realising that the whole club went silent.

“To hell she is.” Hoping this was some sort of prank that his brother was pulling, he looked at Riley who couldn’t look straight into his eyes. That gesture was all he needed to know. It was the truth.

“Drake could you help me at the bar please. It’s going to turn into world war three between Bertrand and Max. Leo will probably get some blame too.” Riley whispered to him, using a good excuse to get away.

“Erm, sure.”

******

Waiting to be served at the bar, Drake looked back and saw the discussion heat up- her prediction was correct.

“So, Liam never mentioned you before. I assume something bad happened? You don’t have to tell me. I just don’t know you, so I thought I’d discuss something that we have in common.” Rubbing his neck, he really didn’t know any ice breaker questions that he could ask. If she was staying in New York, they would most likely be hanging out together- she was part of the gang before he was. In his mind he had hoped that she would open up about hers and Liam’s relationship to avoid him saying something that could potentionally hurt her.

“I was his PA, we had known each other since we were kids. Childhood sweethearts. We had a good thing, then Leo introduced his new girlfriend Madeleine. I left New York just before Christmas, the night before our works Christmas do I had a pregnancy scare. I wasn’t pregnant. Turns out my body was just stressed. Stressed because two weeks prior, he had been texting her flirting all day everyday. I ignored it hoping it was just lust, and he would get bored...I didn’t tell Leo.....” Drake couldn’t believe that Liam would do that. But it made sense, Leo had stopped talking to him for three years.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. But you know....”

“I know. He’s marrying her. I may have lost contact with everyone, but I still kept in touch with one person. Anyway, Leo caught him in bed with Madeleine. I don’t know what hurt most. The fact that he had been flirting through text or the fact that he had slept with her. When I confronted him, he denied it. I never told him that I thought I was pregnant. Maybe I could have forgiven him if he had have been truthful?”

“This is why I enjoy been married to a crate of whiskey. The only way it’ll hurt you is by giving you a headache. You didn’t deserve any of that- neither did Leo.” Trying to make a joke out of his love for whiskey, he noticed a slight smile creep up on her face. Now he knew the reasoning behind Liam’s deserved slap, he wasn’t going to talk about the hurt she had received again.

“So there’s no special lady in your life then?”

“No. There’s been some. But none I’d settle down with.” Looking into her baby blues, he could see a bit of relief when he answered no. Thinking too much about it he just smiled at her and paid the bill.

“We’ll be spinsters together then Drake. Come on. Let’s go and end the argument between those three morons.”

******

The group of friends were all still annoyed with Riley for ditching them but they fully understood her reasoning and would have supported her over Liam.

Maxwell insisted that they carried on drinking into the early hours - finishing the ‘reunion party’ at his and Drakes apartment. They all rejected the offer politely but Max wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bertrand gave Riley a hug as he left -pleading with her to give up her job. Lying she said she would consider it.

Arriving at the apartment, it hadn’t changed in five years. The furniture was the same, the decor was the same- it was if she had never left.

“Remember when you puked in that plant pot Ri?” The two of them burst out laughing at how drunk she had become that night.

“How could I forget? So Drake, are you insane being Max’s room mate?”

“Honestly? He’s a great guy. I just away hide in my room half the time.”

“I assume that’s my old room?”Her face faded, thinking of all the good memories they had together. The good memories over ruled the bad ones. She was happy that Maxwell had found a room mate, ever since she had departed there was always that guilt about leaving him abruptly and up the shitter.

“You assume correct blossom. You can have my bed tonight if you want. I’ll sleep on the sofa spooning Leo.”Maxwell could play the camp man easily, many assumed that he could be a closet gay due to his over affectionate gestures with both sexes.

“Oh no! I’ll be getting a cab home once all you losers pass out. No way am I sleeping near you may sexually harass me in your sleep.” Leo smiled nervously towards Drake and Riley who were more interested in looking at each other secretly than trying to save his ass from Maxwell the predator.

*****

The friends talked about memories, Drake and Riley got to know each other more. Riley felt more settled being back in New York than she did a few hours prior. Leo and Maxwell could see them both stealing secret glances from each other.

“So when are you two going to get it on?” Maxwell said smirking. Drake noticed Riley blush, she was an attractive woman but she had opened up to him and he could tell she was still heartbroken even after all these years. He respected women unlike most men and wouldn’t take advantage of her even if it was hard resisting looking at her constantly.

“When are you going to get your own love life Max? Rather than try to play matchmaker.” Riley defended herself. She loved Max, but within their friendship circle he had always liked to interfere.

“I don’t think that I need to interfere, you both keep providing each other with looks. Maybe neither of you have noticed that you are both doing it. Isn’t that right Leo?”

“Damn right Max. I’m heading out. Ri, I don’t want to wake up hearing that you’ve disappeared again. We’ve all missed you.” Kissing her on the cheek, she promised she was staying for good. Even with Liam lurking in the shadows.

“Oh is that the time? It’s got late all of a sudden.”

“Go to bed max, I’ll stay on the couch. I know that you’re faking it.”

“Would I do that Ri? Honestly you think that little of me?” Over dramatically, he stabbed his heart with his fist before faking fainting. Bending down Riley checked his pulse, threatening to ring an ambulance. Shooting up from the ground now full of energy, he grabbed some ear muffs, insisting it was ‘just for precaution’.

Riley asked Maxwell if she could borrow one of his tops to wear, she didn’t want to be sparked out on the sofa in her dress or underwear- it was bad enough that she was going to have to do the walk of shame in a few hours. Maxwell and Drake went to bed, leaving Riley alone. She couldn’t sleep even if her eyes felt heavy. Opening a bottle of wine, she decided to drown her sorrows. The energy of staying positive had drained her- the fake smiling was all for show, deep down Liam Rhys had broken her for good. Sitting on the bar stool at the kitchen island, she decided to log into her old social media accounts. The amount of notifications would take her forever to get through. Concerned emails from all her friends, tagged photos with the hashtag throwback Thursday was a common notification. Sighing, if she was staying in New York she needed to lock away the past and keep it as a distant memory.

“Hey. What are you still doing up?”

“I could ask you the same.” Drake slid up next to her, concerned that she had two empty bottles of wine next to her for company.

“I never get drunk on wine, it’s like water to me. Do you want some? Or is it not manly enough for you?”

“I was just going to the bathroom. If I’d have known you’d still be awake I’d have put a top on.”

“Why would you do that? A body like that needs to be shown off. You should be a model.” Drake was shocked with her upfront flirting, wondering if it was due to the alcohol. She had definitely boosted his ego slightly.

“Are you flirting with me?” Asking her in a seductive manner, and winking at her- he saw her blush ever so slightly.

“It’s not flirting Drake, it’s a compliment. Accept it.” Softly smiling at him, he returned the gesture. Of course she was attempting to flirt, but she would never admit that.

“Well I’ll give you a ‘compliment’ back. You’re beautiful. Liam didn’t deserve you. Goodnight.”

“Drake?”

“Yeah?” Standing up, the alcohol had given her a bit of a confidence boost. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed him on the cheek. This unexpected gesture made him stand frozen, not knowing exactly what the correct next move was to make. Should he kiss her back? It was a temptation he had been trying to avoid all night ever since she sat on his lap. Should he be a jerk and just walk away? Hovering her hand over his muscled body- she bit her lip. Caressing her cheeks, he rest his forehead on hers- both breathing in unison. Drake took a risk and pressed his lips onto hers kissing her gently. Her arms went around his neck- giving him permission to deepen the kiss. His tongue slipped inside her mouth that tasted of wine, his tasted of whiskey- the fusion of alcohol and each other’s touches made them both feel intoxicated. Riley’s fingers ran through his hair- his hands holding her petite frame protectively, before roaming up her shirt. His calloused hands, touched every part of her body after he asked for permission to do this. She began to feel more alive than she had done in a long time- wondering if this would be a one time thing or not? She was tempted to take it further, the way he was acting he also gave the same impression.

“Drake?”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.” Holding her hands, he believed that was as far as it was going. He regretted making a move on her now, feeling disappointed.

Guess it's true

I'm not good at a one night stand

But I still need love 'cause I'm just a man

These nights never seem to go to plan

I don't want you to leave

Will you hold my hand?

“I don’t want to go to sleep. I want you. If you want that too. I mean, I know we’ve only just met, but I’d appreciate it if you’d stay with me. If you don’t want the same I understand. I don’t.....” Blabbering on and on, Drake couldn’t wait anymore. He needed to say something, anything to shut her up.

Oh, won't you stay with me?

'Cause you're all I need

This ain't love, it's clear to see

But darling, stay with me

“I’d be honoured to have you in my arms even if it’s just for tonight.” Riley dragged him into his room, her old room. Closing the door, she was hoping that Maxwell was wearing his ‘just for precaution’ item.

*****

Madeleine and Liam had sat in silence since he had returned home. They had both provided each other with death glares.

“So what is the real reason that you are being a jerk? Loose cannon Leo? Moron Max? Dumbass Drake?” She laughed hysterically, her fiancé did pick a misfit bunch of friends to socialise with.

“The real reason is the only woman I’ve ever loved has returned. I fucked her over for you- the biggest mistake of my life.” He spat at her, he knew she wasn’t the only reason behind losing Riley. It takes two to tango, but if she didn’t come into his brothers life knowing they were rich- he could have had the simple life with Riley, maybe be married- had their own children.

“Just admit it Liam- I was better in bed. She may have made the loveable supporting wife. But she was too timid, too sensible, too boring. You needed some excitement in your life. She will soon disappear again.”

“I wish you would disappear. We are over Madeleine. The engagement is off. I’m fighting to win Riley back. She needs me.” Storming off out of the room, she followed him- not ready for this battle to end.

“Good luck with that Liam, she will never take you back. Especially with the little secret we have kept for all these years. The secret that your brother doesn’t even know about. You leave me, you will lose that secret too.”

“Mommy? Daddy?”

[borderlandscast]

sorry!! I was the one who sent the anon about the development, and yeah, I meant how their character changed as the story went on. but also, what were some things that changed from the initial starting point in the story?

okay, not a problem! let’s do this. my random three picks: zoeya, lalna, and parvis. i’ll think about maybe doing posts for the others but shoves that onto future self. thank you for clarifyingthis ask! it was a pleasure to answer, and apologies for how long this got.

zoeya

her role is basically a xenobiologist traveling to pandora to research fauna and flora. unfortunately, her assistants continued to ditch her given the dangerous nature of the work.

working solo, zoeya continued after many setbacks and was close to giving up after rythian left (for different reasons than what she’d assume though). and then teep showed up.

zoeya’s bubbly, sunny and talkative personality unnerves a lot of people since you’d think all that would be ground out of her at the end of the first day but nope. zoeya’s greatest strength is in her persistence. she never needed coddling, which almost everyone made the mistake of doing since they also assume she’s naive. she proves them wrong later since death (and to a lesser extent, suffering and pain) is a part of life, which is showcased often in her field.

that said, her greatest weakness is her self doubt and insecurities, whether it’s about herself, her job or her relationships. she has a lot of unspoken anxieties on a daily basis, which hinders her ability to function. she shows signs of adhd too; this is especially evident in the scene where teep shows up and her life is a big Mess, from the way she organises her paperwork, her constant clutter and chaotic workflow.

she has a positive impact on teep and vice versa. for the longest time, she couldn’t open up, and now she has this extraordinary assistant who can actually read her handwriting, is not a wimp about foreign bodily fluids, can handle threats without a blinking an eye, can follow instructions after being told only once; yeah, teep’s her dream assistant. problem: they’re stone cold and unreceptive to her ramblings...or so it appears.

zoeya brings the best out in people; she has a grounding effect. whenever i wrote her into a scene, i had to take a different mindset than say, one i’d have for rythian, rythian is cautious, and usually doesn’t do anything without a plan. zoeya, on the other hand, is free of these restrictions. she’s a very emotional person, which plays off nicely against a bigger backdrop of stoic, reserved and colder cast.

she was never intended as a ‘oh, i’m here for you, always!’ sidelines character which is a cliche role; she takes direct actions throughout borderlandscast, such as being the first outsider to see rythian’s mutilated back. she reacts with a little bit of horror, but ultimately reaches out with a compassionate hand. she also ran inside a burning building to get teep. she also is a frontliner in the bandit battle, at the cost of her hand.

losing her hand wasn’t intended until i browsed the old blackrock vids and hit upon the arc where rythian and co end up in the desert and she needs chocolate milk to survive, and uh, things clicked.

zoeya suffers a permanent consequence for her heroic actions in saving sanctuary hole. does she regret it? no! she does her best to move on, with the support of her loved ones. she may have been an anxious wreck throughout the whole event but she never let it stop her from doing the right thing.

lalna

lalna’s role was mysterious from the start to his companions; his concussion impeded his thoughts and rationality. slowly peeling back the real reasons how he ended up on pandora was part of the story.

he was always going to be rythian’s companion, and unfortunately, was going to betray him later. playing up to that was difficult, since i was starting from scratch in an au compared to blackrock where tensions preexisted.

lalna and rythian are both lonely people, and lonely people tend to gravitate towards each other even if their personalities are at odds. i didn’t detail lalna and rythian’s initial journey together but you can tell that they’ve gotten used to each other by the time nanosounds shows up.

i intentionally wrote lalna to be a scaredy cat but differently to nilesy, parvis and zoeya. normal people don’t cope well with being thrown onto a murderous, lawless place, let alone being stranded. lalna handles it reasonably well at first but then there’s the icing on the cake: killing other people.

thus begins lalna’s spiral into the sad mess that he becomes just before tlvh c12 happens. that ended all civilities between him and the main vault hunters.

negative character development where someone truly regrets their actions should be explored more often! lalna didn’t exactly redeem himself in the final battle but he definitely showed that he’s taking his first steps.

sometimes people try to justify doing terrible things because that’s a very human thing to do. lalnable’s own rigid moral compass was foil to lalna’s own weak, wavering one. it also provided another reason for the conflict where lalna nearly throttles him to death but chooses not to, since that’d violate his whole motive for backstabbing rythian.

lalna is driven by selfishness disguised as protective love for his twin. he’s one of the more selfish people in this au.

his loneliness likely drove him to build larry robert, a friend who’d never abandon him.

i don’t think lalna is an idiot; he’s secretly crafty and actually quick thinking, especially when it comes to his specialties. he’s impulsive though, and he doesn’t like to think about the consequences until the dust clears. this gets better closer to the end since he chooses to go back and help the vault hunters, after he provokes arsenal into beating the shit out of him. that uh, takes some serious guts.

he’ll heal his relationship with rythian eventually. where rythian would once have cut ties with lalna, rythian’s open to trying again, something that lalna is deeply grateful for.

parvis

parvis is interesting as a character since he’s so multi-faceted while still being recognisable as himself. i wrote him to be a bandit, but not a bandit, as paradoxical as that sounds.

he was designed to have every bit of confidence as possible or projecting as much; backstage, he dials back on the loudness and is a little awkward but cares deeply with all the finesse of a brick in a sock. he rivals ravs in terms of social awareness, which is how he easily picked up on will’s need for a friend.

his sewing hobby was added much later, it provides him a valuable skill since bandits probably tear up their own clothes often. plus, plenty of civilians and vault hunters could do with repairs every once in a while. being one of the friendlier bandits around, parvis has a secret reputation as a tailor. he only tries a little to deny it.

parvis intensely dislikes conflict but pretends he does, if only to keep the masses happy (his own lieutenants are bloodthirstier than he is, a rarity on pandora). okay, he might enjoy it a little but the consequences of getting hurt far outweigh the adrenaline rushes. he gets over this ridiculously fast when he’s out for blood in the name of a friend (as in the case of one will strife during the jailbreak), or if something he likes is threatened (like his precious stronghold).

as sparkles pointed out, parvis’ leadership capabilities and knack for keeping a whole bandit gang united under one flag (with a love of music, of all things) is pretty much peerless. parvis has a goddamned gift. it’s why he’s so well-liked by each of his ‘fans’, and why he’s so popular on the echonet. he gets to know all of them equally, and rarely plays favourites. he doesn’t let the attention go to his head, much.

the illliteracy part is common amongst bandits but reading sheet music doesn’t take much; parvis is very insecure and touchy about his inability to read and write, but lalnable helps him with that. he also helps parvis get over his fear of blood and pain in the most direct way possible. it’s voluntary on parvis’ part since parvis rocks up to the clinic on a daily basis since hanging out with lalnable is greater than getting nausea over drawing blood.

parvis really steps up to the plate in ‘the battle of sanctuary hole’. he has major self doubts abouts his ability to succeed in battles despite the bloody bandits’ amazing track record of occupying the dam stronghold against multiple attacks. his big, gay ‘crush’ on daltos may have factored into his decision to pick up his gun and finally jump into the fray.

the ‘crush’ part is parvis working through a complex series of feelings. as sparkles noted, parvis develops and abandons crushes very quickly (about as fast as he loses guitar picks; his one on ravs is one of his longer standing ones). it stems from wanting to get to know people; being famous fucks a lot with parvis’ ability to make genuine friends. he goes back and forth on relationships when his doubts surface.

parvis is aromantic and asexual but is grey on both counts. he doesn’t know what both orientations are called, and unless he has a ‘i like people but not in that way’ session with daltos (aro, bi), teep (aro, ace) or hybridpanda (aro, ace), he’s not in a big rush to find out.

he just wants to be friends with everybody, except for when he or they’re crossed; parvis has a big vindicative streak to him that’s a big bandit trait. fortunately, parvis is as revenge driven as panda or sjin is.

some things that changed as the story went on (off the top of my head):

length of the story and word count; did not anticipate on it spanning across six plus side stories and a main one, or over three years.

arsenal’s role in ‘the battle of sanctuary hole’; he fucked up almost as badly as daltos did, which accelerated the blitzkreig blighter’s quest for destruction and revenge. whoops. but he fixed that by diving in to save his bestue, and failed at that. nobody’s perfect! except boner.

minty! minty wasn’t envisioned until i needed someone to run concordia. martyn and turps weren’t available since they’re both land locked, but then along came minty.

elsa being a major catalyst for the complete destruction of pandora and the universe. it was a joke, but then it happened.

rythian’s relationship with the queen; he nurtured a close bond with her, which she broke when she tried to escape her vault once she got too jealous of freedom. if things had turned out differently, they could have been friends and the universe would have doomed another way.

nanosounds losing her left arm; i think i talked about this in a post a long, long time ago but the consequences of a siren losing her tattooed arm? hasn’t been seen yet, wanted to explore it.

the legendary that was dropped in the vault of the queen; its name is ‘enderbane’, and is currently in rythian’s possession after honeydew gave it to him, thus breaking the curse of ‘no vault hunter shall own a legendary’. he has no idea what it does since he hasn’t tested it out yet, and is a little afraid to do so considering it’s an eridian weapon. didn’t plan on including it as a drop but usually loot is good on a final boss, so there.

ANNOUNCEMENT OF BORDERLANDS 3!!!!!!! since borderlandscast is almost wrapped up, nothing will change content wise but since there’s a giant time gap that exists, we’ll see how i fit the epilogue in since that’s a big playground.

[leisurelypanda]

Halloween was tomorrow. Oddly enough, Thor didn’t seem to be celebrating. Or rather, he did seem to be celebrating, just not dressing up as anything or doing anything associated with Halloween. Loki, meanwhile, was beside himself with excitement, which was almost as frightening as the look on his face when he was about to prank someone. Steve wasn’t a huge fan of Halloween himself, either. Too many drunks wandering around the Village for the Halloween Parade. Not that he disliked it, it was fine. He just didn’t understand the appeal.

Halloween fell on a Saturday, this year, which meant that all the shenanigans that happened would be even worse this year because none of the high school hellions had to worry about showing up to school in the morning. However, while the rest of the school seemed to be already high on sugar or whatever else in the way of recreational drugs was floating around the school system, Steve and his group of friends seemed to be indifferent to it all. Except Tony, who might actually be taking some of those recreational drugs.

Steve was working on the drawing he had started of Thor sitting on the stool in his backyard nearly two weeks ago. Or trying to, anyway. He was exhausted. His anxiety had been giving him a hard time lately. He had only gotten a couple hours of sleep the last few nights and it took nearly all his energy to get out of bed this morning. Add to that the constant mental and emotional drain that anxiety had on him, and it was a wonder he had shown up to school at all. He was seriously considering calling his mom to come pick him up.

The picture was almost done, but done enough that he was willing to let Thor look at it. He wanted to finish the little details before he showed Frigga. As supportive as Thor was, his knowledge of the arts was limited. Right now, though, he couldn’t really bring himself to do anything but stare blankly at the picture, completely at a loss for how to finish it.

“Do you have plans for Halloween?” Thor asked.

“Not yet,” Steve replied. “Why?”

“My family is having a bonfire tomorrow night,” he elaborated. “It is not your typical Halloween festivity but it is something we look forward to every year. Do you want to come?”

“You’re inviting him to Samhain?” Loki asked incredulously. “Does he even know what that means?”

“What’s Samhain?” Steve and Tony asked.

“Samhain is basically the pagan new year,” Thor said. “There is frequently a bonfire, people honor the memories of the ancestors, and ask the gods for blessings and guidance for the new year.”

“You’re pagans?” Tony asked.

“We are, indeed!” Thor said with pride. “Though personally, I prefer Yule.”

“Brother, you’re just looking forward to getting drunk this year with mother and father,” Loki said, rolling his eyes.

“And you, dear brother, are just jealous because you’re still not of age,” Thor countered with a grin.

“Will there be drinking at this Samhain celebration?” Tony asked.

“If you are of age,” Thor said. “And of the 4 of us here, Steve and I are the only ones.”

“And I don’t drink,” Steve said.

“Why not?!” Tony demanded.

“I just don’t,” Steve replied.

“Who hurt you?!” Tony cried.

Steve paused in his drawing and didn’t look up. Then he decided that he really didn’t feel like having this conversation with Tony and packed his bag and got up.

“Good job, you ass,” Thor muttered before he got up as well to follow Steve.

“What’d I say?” Tony demanded.

Steve hurried away. He needed to be away from Tony at the moment. His anxiety was starting to act up. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he really didn’t fit in with this weird group of people at all. He wasn’t dramatic or outgoing or boisterous or clever or witty or even that attractive. He was just Steve and they were probably all putting up with him, waiting for him to leave. Thor said he cared about him, but that was probably just--

“Steve, wait up,” Thor said. He paused. The thoughts raged on inside his skull, driving doubt into his life. The part of him that knew that it was irrational wasn’t working today. His brain was running full throttle today. “Are you well?”

“I’m fine,” he lied. He was trying very hard not to crawl into a corner and hide to wait for the panic attack he was absolutely certain was coming. And God, he didn’t have the energy to deal with a panic attack today. He barely had the energy to function like a person.

“You are fine?” Thor asked. “Pardon me for saying so, but you seem a little on edge.”

Steve looked away. Looked anywhere but at Thor. The floor, the ceiling, the lockers, the people around him. He wanted it all to stop for a moment so he could scream until his voice was hoarse. Most of all, he didn’t say anything.

“Steve,” Thor whispered, leaning down to look him in the eye. “Steve, it is okay, talk to me.”

Fuck that. Talk, he thought. That’s the last thing you want to do. You’ll say something stupid and make everything fall apart.

“Please, älskling,” Thor begged. “Tell me what to do to help you.”

Against his better judgment, Steve felt his tongue loosen.

“I’m having a bad day, Thor,” he said, slowly, deliberately.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m struggling with my anxiety, today,” he snapped. Then he kicked himself for it. It wasn’t Thor’s fault, he was just trying to be a good boyfriend. “I’m sorry. I feel like I’m about to explode. It’s not your fault.”

“Is there a way I can help?” Thor asked.

“I need some time to myself to get this out of my system,” he said. “So, I will try to be at your… Samhain tomorrow, but I don’t know.”

“It’s all right, Steve,” Thor said. “You do what you need to do.”

Steve, in spite of himself, hugged his boyfriend. Every one of his brain cells were screaming at him, but he did it anyway. Thor’s hug, usually gentle and firm, was fierce and strong and protective. It did nothing to soothe his mind but physically, it felt good.

“I need to make a call,” he said.

“All right,” Thor whispered. “I wish you well, älskling."

“Thanks, you too.”

Thor walked away. Steve headed towards a secluded part of the school and took out his phone to call his mom. It rang twice before she picked up.

“Steve?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He swallowed. “I’m out of spoons,” he said.

“All right, I’m on my way,” she said. “I’ll call the school and tell them that I’m picking you up to go to the doctor. See you soon.”

“Thanks, mom,” he said. “See you soon.”

She arrived shortly after the bell rang for class to start. As soon as they got home he collapsed on the couch and turned on a white noise app of various nature sounds. It was the only time he found such sounds soothing. Usually he opted for sounds of the hustle and bustle of city life. But right now, when his brain was on full alert, anything that sounded like people was stressful and unwelcome. With the nature sounds, he could pretend that he was far away from everyone.

He remembered what Thor told him about Sweden. About the forests, the snows in the winter, about the cities and what it was like to see the Northern Lights on a clear winter’s night. He thought of reindeer and snow and the smells of pine and ice and smoke. It was a dream, to think that Thor would ever actually take him there to see his country, the country he loved so much. But in the wake of his mind screaming fear and impending doom and over analyzing every little thing, it was a good dream. -------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thor did not hear from Steve for the rest of the day. He also did not show up to either of the classes they shared that day. Loki confirmed that Steve had not been present that morning, either. He tried his best not to worry about it. He tried to do the whole “reflect on your past year and try to figure out what you would like to do differently” thing for Samhain. The problem was, all he could really think about was Steve. Whether he was all right, what he was doing, if he needed anything, if Thor should even do anything aside from letting Steve have time to himself.

It was not helping. Thor reflected back on his past relationships for any clue as to how to deal with this. He had never dated anyone with a mental illness before. It was vexing in a sense. He was the sort of person who wanted to fix problems, provide solutions, be the one his partner leaned on. Now it was like he was powerless. He literally could not do anything to help Steve. It was vexing.

Through some stroke of luck, fate, or the favor of the gods, Thor did not have practice today as there were no games that weekend. Which meant that he and Loki were going home around the same time and Thor got to experience the hustle and bustle that was everyone trying to get home at once.

“How do you live with this every day?” Thor asked.

“Trust me, brother,” he replied. “I have no idea. I thought you were going to the GSA meeting?”

Thor made a noncommittal sound. “Your boyfriend got to my boyfriend,” he said. “That sort of killed that idea.”

“I know, I apologize,” Loki said. “I have tried to be… discreet about subjects that seem to upset Steve, but I fear Tony can be… how do the British say it?”

“A bull in the china shop?” Thor suggested.

“Yes that,” he replied. “Honestly, sometimes I wonder if he is aware of others’ cues or if his brilliant brain gets in the way.”

He had a point. Tony was a year younger than Loki but he was, like Thor and Steve, in all advanced classes. He could, theoretically, graduate. Why he was not going to do so was beyond Thor.

Mr. Baker was waiting for them when they arrived at the front door. That was something at least. Thor was uncharacteristically impatient to get home. He could not figure out why. Maybe he was needing some time alone himself, for once. It was known to happen on occasion. He could not be expected to spend every waking moment of everyday with people, much as he frequently did so.

When he got home he literally dropped his bag at the door and collapsed on the couch. His mother was waiting for them. He would have thought that she would be getting ready for the Samhain celebration beginning tonight and ending the day after Halloween. Three days of celebration, reflection, and ringing in the new year. Thor mostly looked forward to the part that fell on Halloween. His parents always got a pig roast for the celebration and usually the whole neighborhood showed up to get some, carve pumpkins, bob for apples, all the usual harvest festival things. The fact that their strangely traditional, conservative Christian neighborhood helped them celebrate one of the most pagan holidays since Christmas amused his family every year.

“Are you all right, dear?” she asked.

“It was a rough day, mother,” he groaned into a pillow.

“What happened?”

He sighed. “Steve was having a bad day with his anxiety,” he said. “He went home early.”

She remained silent.

“I do not know what to do, mother,” he said. “I want to help, I want to fix it, but I cannot. There is nothing I can do.”

“Well, I do not know what to say to you to help,” she admitted. “Perhaps he just needs time.”

“That is what he said,” he admitted. “But I do not know how to do that.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” she asked.

He thought for a moment. “Can I have a reading?”

Her eyebrows rose slightly. He rarely asked for a reading. He tended to do well on his own, tried to figure out his own problems. The last time he had asked for a reading, it had been earlier that year right after he learned that his ex was cheating on him. It hadn’t been a serious relationship, not as serious as he considered his relationship with Steve. But it had been important to him. It turned out that Thor was bad at long-distance relationships and living in America with a boyfriend in Sweden was about as long-distance as they got. Still, he had asked for a reading seeking a measure of objectivity.

“What are you seeking?” she asked. He thought for a moment.

“Clarity,” he said. “Guidance.”

She smiled. “Well, it is Samhain,” she said. “A perfect time for these things.”

She left to fetch a deck. She tended to collect them. Some were gifted to her, others she had purchased herself. Thor knew very little of magick. It was too esoteric and intuitive for him. He was more of an action oriented person. Magick was something that his mother and Loki were drawn to. Maybe it had something to do with being artists.

She returned a few minutes later and offered a prayer to Freya, conveying what he was seeking. Thor silently sent his own prayer to Baldr, the god of his choice, as well. He and his mother both chose to honor Baldr, as the god of light and joy. Thor chose Baldr out of a desire to hold the light in the forefront of his mind. His mother chose to do so since, as a diplomat’s wife, her role was to ensure that the people around her were happy and cared for. She also honored her namesake, Frigga, in that capacity.

“Think of the situation that you need clarity on,” she said, setting the deck before him. “When you are done, shuffle the deck with this question in mind.”

Thor focused on his relationship with Steve, on his desire to help him, his inability to do so. He bridged the deck a few times until he felt satisfied with how it turned out.

“Think of your situation,” she said again. “Choose a card that represents the area you need clarity in.”

Again, he focused. He thumbed through the cards until he felt that he had reached the right one. He set it down on the table in front of him, but did not turn it over.

“Next, think of the obstacle in the way of your desired outcome for this situation and choose a card.” Thor repeated the process. This time the card came quickly, as it was on top of the deck.

“Now think about the advice you need to see this situation resolved, however that may be,” she said. He leafed through the deck until he found the third card. When he set it down on the table, his mother said a final prayer inviting the influence of their divine patrons in helping them understand the situation at hand.

He turned over the first card, his situation.

“The Lovers,” she read. Thor huffed in amusement. “It seems appropriate. You’re in a good place with Steve, but there’s a new element in play now. The Lovers can represent a major dilemma in your life.”

She thought for a moment. “You’re in a bit a trial, actually. You must consider carefully what the right path for you is and what that entails. Whatever you do, though, be sure that it is true to who you are.”

Thor nodded and turned over the next card.

“The five of cups, inverted,” she read. “This is interesting. Here the five of cups represents an end to sorrow and melancholy, being ready to move on. Since it is in the obstacle position, I think it says that you are being impatient.”

“Impatient?” Thor asked.

“You want too much too soon, dear,” she said. “You need to give this dilemma time to resolve itself. You are ready, but you need to understand that what Steve needs from you precludes what you want from him.”

“Right, fine,” he grumbled. “Perhaps the cards are saying I need to work on patience in general.”

“That is possible,” she said. With that, Thor flipped the third card over.

“The queen of cups,” she said, smiling. “As I was just saying, you need to be sensitive to the needs of your lover. You need to consider his emotional well-being and act accordingly.”

“But, what if this is something that never really resolves itself?” Thor asked.

“Then you really need to work on your patience, dear,” she said. She moved over to his side of the table and took his hands in hers. “Thor, all relationships take work. They’re all hard. We all have fears and insecurities and try as you might, you cannot fix them by sheer force of will.”

“What do I do then?” he asked. “I care about him, mother. I hate seeing him so.”

She rested a hand on his cheek. “You want to be the one people look to for support,” she said. “Especially for your lovers. Perhaps this is a time to learn what that means for Steve. Do you understand?”

“No,” he confessed.

“Good. That would defeat the purpose of learning the lesson,” she said, gathering up her cards. “And for what it’s worth, dear, I do believe that you and Steve can figure it out.”

“Is this another one of your infallible feelings?” he asked with a rueful grin.

“Yes actually,” she said. “Now go get dressed. Samhain starts tonight and your father expects you to look respectable.”

Thor sighed. Then he embraced his mother. “Thank you, mother.”

“Oh my darling boy,” she said. “Any time.”

[fussingoverfassbender]

Blasting along at 160 m.p.h. in the passenger seat of a $250,000 Ferrari 488, with Michael Fassbender behind the wheel, I think of something he said before we got in the car. We were chatting in an air-conditioned trailer on the infield of the racetrack we’re lapping, the Circuit of the Americas, in Austin, Texas, and I asked Michael how he was feeling, given that he was about to take my life in his hands.

“I’m fine with it,” he said, smiling. He’s often smiling. “I hope you’re O.K. with it.”

Turns out, I am. In part because I think Michael Fassbender could convince me—probably most people—to do almost anything. Charming and contemplative and exceedingly handsome, with the piercing Follow Me eyes of a cult leader, Fassbender exudes focus without seeming at all cocky.

Perhaps more important, I know that Fassbender has been training for the past year to compete in the Ferrari Challenge series, a competitive global racing program for committed Ferrari owners. Each Challenge driver must acquire a race car—the $330,000 488 Challenge is Fassbender’s choice, a more potent and lighter version of the road car in which we did our laps. They must join a private racing team and commission a coach and a mechanic. Then they must work tirelessly on their skills, training at a certified Ferrari driving school, practicing on the track and on ultra-advanced computer simulators, and constantly rehashing telemetry data—precise measurements of speed, braking, acceleration, and turning—to try to improve their time and position in each of the half-dozen races that make up the annual schedule.

“He’s very competitive,” Fassbender’s coach, Martin Roy of Scuderia Corsa, tells me in the paddock. “He wants to perform.” In one of the four races he’s completed so far this season, Fassbender placed fourth, an achievement given that this is his first year in the program. And that, despite a lifelong love of speed and racing, for 20 years before this, he didn’t even own a car, getting around London on a motorcycle.

I can feel Fassbender’s subtle perfectionism as we rip through the Austin track’s 20 turns. As he rifles off gearshifts, saws the steering wheel, mashes the pedals, he calls out every little error. “Missed that apex.” “Brakes are cooking.” “Slidey, slidey.” “Don’t want to hit those.” He admits that he talks to himself when he’s in the car alone as well, especially when he screws up. What does the Academy Award-, Golden Globe-, and BAFTA-nominated actor say to himself in the privacy of his race car? “You fucking idiot.”

In the heat of the race, with dozens of cars speeding around in tight proximity and at triple-digit speeds, you don’t get another take. Before his first Ferrari Challenge event some weeks back, Fassbender confesses that, “I was so nervous, I thought I was close to throwing up.” (He now eats at least two hours before getting in the car, a practice I should have followed.) In a subsequent race, he braked too hard going into a turn, ran off the track, hit a patch of wet grass, and spun out wildly, stopping only when he bumped against the wall of tires that protectively banks the track. And in the race after that, he had his first contact with another car, “just a tiny kiss.” There was no damage, but it shook him. (After I left him in Austin, Fassbender had a mishap in a race, lost control of his car, and crashed into a wall. He was unharmed and eager to continue in the series.)

Fassbender tells me that his interest in racing derives equally from its requisite focus, its iterative technical precision, and its exhilaration. “The speed has always been something that has attracted me,” he says. “But I’ve always, sort of, gotten a kick out of trying to become one with the machine—I’m so far away from that, but that’s the goal. To sort of have that symmetry between you and the car.” He says that it happens on occasion, “Little moments here and there.”

I get to witness some of these moments as we pass through the snaking series of turns in the final sequence of the loop, just before we return to the big opening straight. “This is my favorite section,” Fassbender says, eyes ahead around the next bend, elbows flashing up and down in his bright red Ferrari race suit. “I like the S’s,” he says, serene delight visible through the open visor of his racing helmet. “Just . . . the flow.”

Fassbender is plotting ways to integrate racing even further into his life. “I’m working on something at the moment with my production company [DMC Films],” he says. He’s not ready to provide details, but he adds, “It’s always been front of my mind to do something about racing, and to bring it to either the big or small screen. To do a series.”

After years of not owning a car, Fassbender is now the proud owner of his own Ferrari, an F12tdf, the $485,000, up-powered, limited-edition version of the brand’s ultimate V-12-powered sports car. He broke in the car with a nearly 1,500-mile voyage across Europe, to his new home in Portugal, a trip he took with his girlfriend, Oscar-winning actress Alicia Vikander.

“I picked it up [at the Ferrari factory] in Maranello, and we drove it to Lisbon,” he says. “It was a little nerve-wracking in some of the narrower streets in France and Spain, and parking in underground car parks. There were definitely some sweaty moments. But it was great.”

Vikander was there on the track in Austin to support Fassbender, and has attended some of the races in which he’s competed. “She understands that it makes me really happy,” he says. She even consented to take a “hot lap,” a full-throttle drive, with the Challenge series’ head coach, championship racer Didier Theys.

“She loved it,” Fassbender says. “I think racing is something that she’d really get into, actually. Though I hope not, because she’ll probably end up being faster than me.” He smiles broadly. “She doesn’t have a driver’s license, though. So I’ve got a head start on her. But she’s a quick learner.”

[blakelywintersfield]

Here are a few posts that give actual examples of why Biden is better than Trump: 1 2 3

Biden fucking sucks, yes. Biden is Republican Lite, yes. Biden still is very anti-progressive, yes. But he is better than Trump. Biden also doesn't have literal white supremacists that are calling for overt mass genocide backing him. Biden doesn't have literal Nazis and terrorists supporting him. Is he what America needs? Not by a fucking long shot. But he is better than Trump, and the first step to keeping people safe. All our problems aren't solved by the "right" person being elected, but it's a crucial step in fixing shit. I'm talking as a literal anarchist.

And for anyone saying "Jo Jorgensen! She's better than both!" She is not. For those not wanting to follow the link: she's a typical libertarian. "No government involvement" seems great until you realize that means discrimination is allowed, including in marriage (she believes churches should determine who can and can't marry), jobs (believes men and women should not be guaranteed equal pay, and that paid leave shouldn't be required), healthcare (believes insurance companies should be allowed to deny people with pre-existing conditions, deny coverage for birth control, not cover non-American citizens, and not support Medicaid and Medicare), services (believes businesses should be allowed to deny service if the individual "goes against their religious beliefs"), and race (believes law enforcement should be allowed to detain immigrants for minor crimes and handed over to federal immigration authorities). She also doesn't believe we should enforce safety measures against COVID (because that's the government telling people what to do! Fuck the immunocompromised, muh rites!); doesn't support Trump being impeached; against defunding police to fund social and community programs, and believes spending on these programs should be cut; against fighting climate change; against changing gun laws (this is needed -- gun laws mainly disenfranchise those who NEED to be armed for safety, and they NEED to be changed to enforce people who SHOULDN'T have guns getting them legally, i.e. domestic abusers, rapists, people with ties to criminal groups like the KKK, etc.); believes the government should not intervene in drug prices, even for lifesaving drugs like insulin (or that the government shouldn't intervene in any business practices); against raising taxes on the rich, including in an effort to relax student debt ('cause fuck the younger generation, amirite?); against mandatory vaccination (once again, fuck the immunocompromised!); against raising minimum wage (because, once again, government "interference" with business); pro-gun in schools (teachers should not be carrying guns in school, for a myriad of reasons); literally against anti-discrimination laws; against free college; against abolishing the electoral college (something put into practice for the benefit of slave owners); against affordable AND single-payer healthcare; pro-fracking and offshore oil drilling; pro-hate speech (she literally states the first amendment should protect it); against funding clean energy; pro-drug testing welfare recipients (this is horribly classist and ableist); pro-throttling, anti-net neutrality; against government intervention to avoid monopolies; for lowering taxes on businesses; against UBI; against funding WHO; against providing safe spaces for college students (in her words: "prepare" them "for real life", which, given she's fine with hate speech, makes sense!); for letting businesses donate to political parties; God I could go on and on, but the point is she's literally a fucking corpocrat. And what's highlighted in blue is what Biden is in opposed to her (i.e. if she's against, he's for, and vice versa).

Yeah, Biden has lied before. So has Trump, so has Jorgensen, so has literally every politician ever. But pushing out leadership that literally condones homeland terrorists and labels anti-fascist movements as a threat is really fucking important, and getting the House and Senate in the blue will put pressure on Biden to pony up on his promises. It's a first step. No one, except cishet white upper middle class folks, thinks Biden getting in office will solve everything. Everyone is aware him winning the election won't be the end of all our problems, but for fuckssake, I'd rather have some old ass motherfucker that can be pushed into being more progressive over a man who literally supports white nationalists' violence against civilians. Biden being better than Trump doesn't mean he's the solution. It just means he's not a literal fascist.

[aion-rsa]

Imagine: The Ultimate Collection Review: John Lennon's Dreams Wake Up

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John Lennon's dreams mix with personal nightmares as Imagine: The Ultimate Collection bares its tracks.

Books

John Lennon's Imagine, which just saw the release of an Ultimate Collection spread across four CDs and two Blu-ray discs, is best known for its title song. "Imagine" envisioned an anti-authoritarian nutopia, without the need of heaven, hell, countries or border walls. Critics blasted Lennon's soft anthem as soft politics and the singer an armchair liberal who sent his protests via limousine. Elvis Costello chided "was it a millionaire who said imagine no possessions?" on his song "The Other Side of Summer."

Most of this is true. Lennon practically invented armchair liberalism, possibly inspired by Elvis Presley's Pink Cadillac tour of England, where the rock and roll legend sent only his prized automobile in lieu of personal appearances. The Rolling Stones' Mick Jagger went to the student protests. Lennon sent his MBE, the coveted piece of leather with a cardboard string given to The Beatles for their million dollar exports, back to Buckingham Palace via limo in protest of Britain's support of Vietnam, involvement in Biafra and his heroin withdrawal pang "Cold Turkey" slipping down the charts. Ineffective, in the long run, but funny, in that patented "witty Beatle" way. Sometimes Lennon wasn't even an armchair protester, he and Yoko Ono barely got out of bed for their wedding anniversary hotel peace tour.

Further reading: The Beatles’ Magical Mystery Tour Could Have Been a Great Prog Rock Classic

Lennon himself called "Imagine" "'Working Class Hero' for conservatives," referencing his autobiographically acoustic take on the social divide that included the word "fuck" twice for working class emphasis. But the Imagine album itself cuts much deeper than the peaceful dreams of an artist wanting to make a difference. Lennon takes aim at government in "Gimme Some Truth," with blaring, sneering slide guitars by George Harrison, who also aims his strings at Paul McCartney in the bitter rant "How Do You Sleep." He mocks the conscience-afflicted wealthy class in "Crippled Inside," and fuels the fear and anger behind righteous rage with propulsive and massive drums in "I Don't Want to Be a Soldier Mama I don't Want to Die." He also goes out on a limb in some of his most personal love songs and revealing snatches of self-consciousness. Lennon is as hard on himself as he is on the body politic in songs like "Jealous Guy."

Imagine was released in September 1971. Lennon recorded three solo experimental noise and spoken word albums with Yoko Ono while Beatle were still together: Unfinished Music No. 1: Two Virgins, Wedding Album and Unfinished Music No. 2: Life With the Lions, which all came out in  1969. None of them reached the artistic heights of "Revolution 9" off The Beatles album, better known as The White Album. The biggest controversy coming from a nude cover that record stores had to hide under a brown paper bag. John Lennon and the original Plastic Ono Band, which included Klaus Voorman, who drew the cover of The Beatles' Revolver album, on bass, Alan White on drums, and slow hand guitar master Eric Clapton on guitar, also released the moldy oldie set they performed live at the Toronto Peace Festival. Lennon recorded his Plastic Ono Band album in its purest form, which must have driven producer Phil Spector, renowned for his Wall of Sound, to distraction. But Lennon was in the throes of Primal Therapy and was undeterred in letting it all hang out.

Spector put strings on the Plastic Ono Band sentiment to make Imagine Lennon's first solo record to hit number one. The album is seen as the rhythm guitar and mouth organ player’s return to conventional pop. To fans of the Fab Four, Imagine almost sounded like a Beatles album.

Further reading: The Beatles: In Defense of Revolution 9

Phil Spector was known for his reverberating over-saturation which he also employed for George Harrison’s All Things Must Pass album. The live studio performances are stripped as raw as most of Lennon's vocals. The raw takes show a band with a purpose, the studio chatter, caught in the fourth CD, finds playful ways to inspire serious playing. The Raw Studio mixes are presented in 5.1 surround sound with Lennon in front and the band playing all around and behind. Highlights are the extended renditions of "I Don't Wanna Be A Soldier Mama I Don't Wanna Die," "How Do You Sleep?" and "Oh Yoko!" “It’s So Hard” features a beautiful sax track by the legendary King Curtis, who also blasts “I Don’t Wanna Be A Soldier Mama I Don’t Wanna Die” into another dimension.

The new expanded edition of the album brings the intimacy to the forefront, especially in the Raw Studio Mixes disk that captures Lennon and the Plastic Ono Band bashing through their performances live without overdub, echo or other studio affects. The album proper has been cleaned up for the Ultimate Mixes to allow for deeper definition and clarity, and the Quadrasonic Album Mix gives four speakers equal time for the first time in nearly fifty years.

Imagine - The Ultimate Collection also collects the singles which propelled the album to the top slot. They include "Power to the People," which opens with the line "You say you want a revolution," harking back to The Beatles' non-committal protest song "Revolution," and "Happy Xmas (War Is Over)." The now-holiday staple began as an anti-war song, recorded at the Record Plant in New York with session musicians and the Harlem Community Choir.

Also putting in an official appearance is the little-known single "Do the Oz," which was written to support the underground Oz magazine which had been hit with an obscenity charge, and the hitherto unknown "God Save us," two versions, one with a guest vocalist. The accompanying book is informative, and nicely packaged. It almost makes up for the missing postcard and poster which came with the original release.

The disc In The Studio and Deeper Listening features both surround sound and stereo mixes, along with Elliot Mintz's 29-minute compilation os interviews with John and Yoko. The Elements Mixes includes strings-only versions of "Imagine" and "How?," "Oh My Love" stripped of everything but the voice, and the piano, bass, and drums instrumentation for "Jealous Guy." The Evolution Documentary tells the full story of each song, presenting a fly-on-the wall take from the first writing and demo sessions to the final co-production with Spector. We hear tidbits like how Spector experimented with having Hopkins play the same lines on the same piano as Lennon, but on a higher octave.

Lennon began work on Imagine in February 1971, gathering Voormann, White, George Harrison and pianist Nicky Hopkins to house with him and Spector at Lennon's Georgian country home, Tittenhurst Park, in Berkshire, England, long enough to create a unified audio experience. The songs are diverse, as are the instrumentations. “Crippled Inside,” which has a wonderful dobro performance by Harrison, is a mocking retro-country stomp that could almost be a Skiffle song.

“Oh My Love” is such a straightforward romantic outpouring of devotional love, it is a wonder it isn't played at more weddings. Lennon is at his naturalistic best, lyrically appreciating the trees and skies for the first time through his lover's eyes. He is so lost in the newness of love, several years after meeting Yoko, he also includes the monogamously celebratory "Oh Yoko!" which closes on a positively giddly Bob Dylan style harmonica. But Lennon gives in to existential doubts for the song  “How,” where he asks “How can I go forward when I don’t know which way I’m facing?”

Further reading: Original Imagine Demo by John Lennon Surfaces

Lennon's personal blues usually start with a shade of green. "Jealous Guy” is a somber wake up call to the guy who sang "I'd rather see you dead, little girl, than to be with another man" on the Rubber Soul album song “Run for Your Life.” For such an emotional confession Lennon brought in extra support from friendly musicians, like Mike Pinder from The Moody Blues who he'd known since the Hamburg days. Pinder came in to do a Mellotron part, but the instrument acted up and he banged on a tambourine instead. Lennon also called on Joey Molland and Tom Evans of the Apple band Badfinger. They would also provide soft acoustic backing for Harrison, both on records and in the Concert for Banga Desh. The strings were done by members of the New York Philharmonic, who Lennon dubbed "the Flux Fiddlers." The song was famously, or infamously, covered by Roxy Music, but it doesn't touch Lennon's tortured vocals or baleful, though tuneful, whistling.

The term rock and roll began as a euphemism for sex and "It's So Hard" is pure rock and roll. It's got the I-IV-V twelve bar blues structure of the classics that drew Lennon to the genre, and it's got the sweaty beats to drive it against the wall. Lennon told Rolling Stone magazine that the Beatles first number one hit in England, "Please, Please Me," was about oral sex. The BBC banned the song “Happiness is a Warm Gun” from airplay in the United Kingdom because the singer was "going down." Lennon would at one point be busted for displaying erotic artwork of his lingual enjoyment of Yoko. Here he proclaims whether it's good, whether he's worried, or when things get really hard, sometimes he just feels like going down. He doesn't mince words.

Lennon's wordplay comes to the forefront when he takes on the hypocrisy of the Nixon administration in “Gimme Some Truth.” Tricky Dick hated the song so much he had his people try to deport Lennon and Ono in 1972. Lennon takes down everyone from tight-lipped, condescending, mama’s little chauvinists to schizophrenic-egocentric-paranoic-prima donnas in a proto-punk protest classic backed by the band at full-throttle and Harrison's slide set on incisive insinuation. The two guitarists paired again to pile on another inside threat.

Further reading: John Lennon's 'How Do You Sleep?' Footage Reveals Unrest

McCartney's second solo album Ram, which came out earlier in 1971, opened with the song “Too Many People” which included the line "Too many people preaching practices." Lennon caught the subtle dig and responded by posing while holding a pig by the ears in the postcard insert, and a blistering moment of classic rock for the needle. “How Do You Sleep” begins with an orchestra tuning up like Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart Clubs Band before Lennon, the dreamer of the song "Imagine" shatters that illusion with how the album took the melodic bassist by surprise. Lennon sets his lyrics on pun for lines like “the only thing you done was yesterday.” He references McCartney's more recent single "Another Day," by alluding to Harrison's charge that McCartney overplayed the bass part on "Something" and mocks the cute Beatle for his pretty face. “How Do You Sleep” is supposedly a character assassination of Paul McCartney, but Lennon also admits he was writing about himself. He knows he would also "jump when your mama tell you anything.”

Further reading: Original Imagine Demo by John Lennon Surfaces

This brings us to the title song. "Imagine" began life as the song "Child of Nature," which he wrote when the Beatles went to India in 1968. John Lennon composed the song in one session, sitting at the iconic white grand piano featured in a poster that came with the original album. The new collection includes a sparse home recording of Lennon on piano and vocal. Lennon revels in the naiveté of the dreamer as he imagined something that seemed unimaginable in a world made bitter after incidents like the Ohio National Guard troops killing four protesting students at Kent State University. The lyrics were inspired by Ono's "event scores" in her 1964 book Grapefruit. Lennon later admitted to writer David Sheff the song should have been credited to Lennon-Ono. “Imagine" has been labeled communist, anti-American, anti-British, anti-establishment and atheistic. But Lennon also cited a Christian prayer book given to him by comedian and activist Dick Gregory as inspiration.

The song has gone on to be a universal anthem that touches all generations and has been transcribed to all genres. Liza Minnelli, Stevie Wonder, Neil Young, Lady Gaga, Willie Nelson, Pearl Jam, Elton John, Ray Charles, Madonna, Diana Ross, Herbie Hancock, Joan Baez, Avril Lavigne and Chris Cornell have performed it.

The John Lennon/Plastic One Band album is considered Lennon's most naked and raw. His lyrics are direct, without the psychedelic wordplay of his Beatles works. His solutions as primal as the therapy he was shouting. Imagine isn't as spontaneous as Plastic Ono Band, but it is equally revealing. The new discs reveal even more. Imagine - The Ultimate Collection is available now.

Culture Editor Tony Sokol cut his teeth on the wire services and also wrote and produced New York City's Vampyr Theatre and the rock opera AssassiNation: We Killed JFK. Read more of his work here or find him on Twitter @tsokol.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2018 Special Edition Magazine right here!

5/5

Music

John Lennon

The Beatles

Review Tony Sokol

Oct 5, 2018

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[theliterateape]

Debate is Dead; Long Live Debate

By David Himmel

This might sound like shameless self-promotion here, but it’s not. It’s promotion through opportunity. But we’ll get to that at the end of this thing. Let’s dive into the meaty opportunity…

Last week, Do You Want Nazis? Because That’s How You Get Nazis by Kari Castor sparked an at times entertaining, humorous, mean, and irrational discussion on my Facebook page under the story’s post. What began as a mundane Facebook commentary quickly escalated into rage bombs being lobbed at one reader who didn’t agree completely with Castor’s point of view. And that’s fine. At Literate Ape, we don’t expect or even want everyone to fall in line and read along nodding in agreement with every sentence. Hell, I don’t agree 100 percent with Castor’s point of view, and I’m the co-editor. Literate Ape does not want to be Huffington Post or Breitbart — two extremes of both sides of the debate. Literate Ape exists to be a forum for intelligent, unique voices of varying opinions from writers of varying experiences and backgrounds. As long as the work is well-written, not libelous or hateful, we’ll run it.

In my and co-editor Don Hall’s perfect world, Literate Ape is a place for all readers on the political and social spectrum to visit to discover new thoughts, and yes, even thoughts that may be nod-worthy with every sentence. We continue working toward that by always looking for new contributors with a voice that has yet to be heard. We don’t want the pieces we publish to incite online or street fights, but we are thrilled when they spark healthy debate.

The problem is that healthy debate appears to be dead. Or, at best, on life support in a hospice bed providing infected bed sores rather than rational thought.

I don’t want to waste your time, or mine, typing out yet another explanation of how Facebook and Twitter, and comment sections have allowed self-aggrandizing and singular thought and vitriol to run rampant. We know it exists. The internet has allowed us to wallow and thrive in this kind of shouting match. And that’s all it is. Rare is it that you’ll find a good debate of any kind of quality in a Facebook thread.

A few years back, I got into it with a pastor from Las Vegas about breast implants on a mutual friend’s page. His point of view was that women who undergo breast augmentation do so because they have low self-esteem, and they have low self-esteem because they have not fully accepted Jesus. Of course, that’s complete nonsense. And he and I debated the various points, of which there were many. Throughout the debate, we remained respectful to each other, and he did recognize my points and admitted that he ought to approach the actions of others with less absolution based on his experiences and thoughts. It wasn’t a full concession, and that was fine. I didn’t want to be right, I just wanted him to see that there were other sides to the coin he hadn’t considered.

He and I ended up becoming Facebook friends and engaged in liking each other’s posts with the occasional friendly debate on issues that really weren’t all that important in the long run. I liked that pastor. And when he died of a heart attack a few years later, I was a little bummed out. I’d never met him in person, but it was clear to me that the world lost a man of passion and purpose and reason. We need more people like Pastor Jimmy Mac. (The Christian faith needs more pastors like Pastor Jimmy Mac.)

Debate is hard. That’s why only the real nerdy kids did it in high school. Debating issues one is passionate about is even harder. And debating issues one is passionate about while remaining respectful to your opponent is even harder than that.

Castor’s piece, in short — and I don’t want to undersell it — states that politeness won’t help the Left defeat the extremism of the Right and the Trump Administration. If we focus on the word “politeness,” she’s right. I don’t think “politeness” is the right word to use. “Respect” is the word both the lefties and the righties need to remember. Even in war, there is respect for the enemy. If you don’t have respect for your opponent, you’ll lose. Because without respect, you cannot understand your enemy. As evidenced by Vietnam, Iraq and just about every online argument, if you don’t understand your enemy by way of respect, peace with honor and progress from the wreckage is impossible.

We the People must be respectful of our opponents.

That said, fuck Nazis. Fuck racists. Fuck sexists. Fuck Trump and fuck anyone who still apologizes or defends his administration’s attempt to ass rape democracy to death while instigating totalitarianism. But you can say “fuck them” without saying “fuck them.” You can knock your opponent down a peg or two without the insulting or name calling. Make them look stupid and prove them wrong by revealing the stupidity and fallacies in their argument.

Joe Pesci’s Vincent Gambini in My Cousin Vinny didn’t win his case because he called the small southern town witnesses rednecks, hicks, or stupid. He was respectful of their situation and what they believed, and used his knowledge and understanding of the situation and those witnesses to prove them wrong with facts. We need more cousins like Vinny. Let life imitate art.

Debate is the most important tool in democracy’s toolbox. Once that goes out the window, so, too, does the democratic process.

Going back to Castor’s piece, which sparked the intense thread on my Facebook page, she does not want to chill. And she shouldn’t have to. We need rage. But we also need calm. Now stick with me here because I’m going to use an analogy that the NRA folks might cum all over… Rage is our weapon. It’s the rifle, it’s the bullet. Calm is needed to aim the rifle and gently squeeze the trigger so we hit our intended target. Without calm, we’re just a rage monster firing off rounds, which is how innocents get hurt. Dare I say we need more Lee Harvey Oswalds. He was full of rage but was calm enough to (allegedly) shoot the brains out of Ted Kennedy’s older brother.

Now here’s the shameless self-promotion I promised.

Being that Literate Ape exists as a way to inform and encourage discussion, we host a monthly event called BUGHOUSE! on the first Monday of each month at Haymarket Pub & Brewery. BUGHOUSE! is 75-minute show designed to interrogate concepts, proselytize truth, and dissect popular thought through a lens of skeptical artistry. Three bouts, six warriors, three decisions. BUGHOUSE! aims to definitively answer the most (and least) important questions of the day. This month’s event is Monday, July 7. (Yeah, I know that’s not the first Monday of the month but we wanted to be mindful of the holiday week.) This month’s topics:

Online Vitriol: Self Regulate or Throttle Access? The Faraway Future: Star Wars or Star Trek? Climate Disaster: Nostradamus or Chicken Little?

In the 10 month’s we’ve done this event, Don and I have always had spectators and performers alike say to us that it was not only fun but educational, too. We don’t take it too seriously, but we recognize how important it is to engage in respectful debate on all topics both important (Climate Disaster) and not at all (The Faraway Future). And if Pastor Jimmy Mac were alive, I’d invite him out to debate me on the reason women get boob jobs. Because who better to debate that topic than two men?

Join us at BUGHOUSE! this Monday and in subsequent months. You won’t regret it. For those of you not in Chicago, each one is a podcast, too. (Listen here.) And join in on the need for respectfully debating even the vilest people making the vilest arguments. Don’t pull your punches but take the time to understand them so you can beat them. One must know thine enemy. The moment you start name calling and screaming out of turn, everyone loses. Everyone except the bad guys.

[msjr0119]

Hold On

Part 25 - A premature arrival

Nobody got injured at the Homecoming ball, they all get separated into different safe houses- for safety.

Riley and Drake had confirmed that they had feelings for each other, however Drake believed Riley should be with Liam. Heartbroken, she moves back to New York. Only keeping in touch with Hana, Maxwell and Olivia.

Riley meets lawyer, Nate Cooper and begins a relationship with him. In Cordonia, Drake begins to court Kiara.

Nine months after Riley had left Cordonia- there is a reunion, but not the reunion the friends had hoped for.

*Characters belong to Pixelberry*

If you are under 18 please do not read this series. If you do you are consenting that you are over the age.

Series warnings: Suicide, domestic abuse, swearing, stabbing, smut🍋 If any of these triggers affect you do not read!

Tags- @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs

******

“So after brunch, I assume the King and Queen will want some aloneeee time.... But who’s ready for the real party? As it’s a Beaumont wedding- well sort of. You’re all invited to the after party at House Beaumont later tonight, to celebrate our sister getting married!”

Riley and Liam couldn’t wait to go and spend time alone together- with no distractions. They were now officially married. Discreetly they sneaked off up to their Chambers- informing Maxwell that they wouldn’t be attending the Beaumont bash, as they wanted their wedding day/night to be just the three of them. Maxwell was dramatically upset at first- but explained that they would all celebrate anyway.

Carrying his Queen over the threshold, Liam gently placed his wife on the leather couch. Pouring her a glass of water, he couldn’t take his eyes of her- he was in awe of her. The beauty radiating around her.

“I love you Queen Riley of Cordonia.”

Riley hearing these words still sounded so surreal.

“I love you too, King Liam of Cordonia. Who’d have thought that we’d have ended up here?”

“Not me for sure. I’m glad to have you back in my arms. The time apart from each other was torture. I’m going to love you both for as long as I live. How about a little siesta before we have something to eat?” The king smirked at his Queen, with passion and desire in his eyes.

“Siesta? Is that what they call it now your Majesty?” Oh god he’s so sexy with that smirk- I know exactly what you mean Liam.

“Of course. But I can’t promise that I won’t be able to keep my hands off of my gorgeous wife.”

*****

7 Months after Liam and Riley’s wedding ceremony.

Riley was now glowing at 37 weeks pregnant. Hoping that these next three weeks go quick, as everywhere she turned the little princess would knock everything and anything over. Getting frustrated with waddling anywhere she really wanted to invest in a mobility scooter- I am Queen, they may get me one if I ask nicely.

Liam had left Cordonia for two days of meetings in Greece the prior day. He didn’t want to leave her, but she promised to FaceTime him constantly over the two days to prove she was fine. Last night, she placed the phone to her bump so Liam could speak to his daughter. His daughter was doing backflips in Riley’s stomach responding to her daddy’s voice- he couldn’t contain the smile on his face. He was desperate to return home to his wife.

At brunch, Riley had experienced a shooting pain. She just ignored it as the Doctor said she would be expecting braxton hicks throughout the last few weeks of pregnancy. Olivia had noticed the colour drain from her face- and immediately excused herself from the table to find Leo.

“Leo, I know she’s not due to pop that thing out yet. But she doesn’t look well. I don’t want to worry her or Liam but I think the little princess is eager to make appearance.”

Leo looked over towards Riley- Olivia was talking sense, she didn’t look her usual self and she kept holding her stomach every ten minutes. Shit!

“Liv that ‘thing’ is my niece. I need to get Liam back. Try ringing Bastien and I will contact Liam.”

*****

Riley jolted up from her seat knocking champagne and food all over Drake and Hana. The married couple looked at each other concerned, as they stood up clearing the mess that Riley had caused.

“Shit!” Riley screamed in excruciating pain- holding her stomach protectively.

“Brooks? What’s up? Are you okay?”

Riley pulled Drake towards her- gritting her teeth she was tugging on his infamous denim jacket. He looked over towards his wife Hana for reassurance that Riley wasn’t going to potentially throttle him.

“Do I fucking look all right Drake... the fucking baby is coming.... It’s too early... get your best friend back here now!”

Drake stood frozen, before trying to unloosen her tight grip she had on him. His feet suddenly became damp- much to his annoyance. He assumed she had leaked a little accident due to the baby kicking her in the bladder too much.

“Brooks...Why are my feet wet? Have you pissed yourself? You need to let me go so I can ring Li.”

“My waters broke you fucking dipshit!”

Riley fell to the floor, Hana tried to comfort her, speaking softly towards her. Telling her to breathe. Drake attempted ringing Liam up, shaking at the reality the heir was about to be born- fucking pick up your Majesty!

*****

“Liam!” For god sake Leo, I’ve been gone one day- What catastrophes have you caused already? Frustrated with his older brother, he just sighed regretting answering the phone.

“Leo. What’s up I’m in a meeting!”

“Liam fuck the meeting! Your daughter is making an early appearance! You need to get back now”

“Fuck! Look after her Leo, I’m leaving now.”

Liam ran to Bastien, I’m going to be a father today- Riley’s in labour. Get the jet ready ASAP! Quickly explain to everyone for me what has happened and send my apologies.

*****

Leo ran into the room, Hana had placed a cold compress on Riley’s head, and Drake looked in pain- Riley was practically breaking his hand- his grimace pleaded with Leo to take over. Man up Walker, let a real man help- Leo muttered as he shook his head at Drake.

“Ri. You’re doing great. But we need to get you to hospital. Liam is on his way back.” He said calmly holding her hands, his eyes fixated on her.

“It’s too early Leo...” she cried inbetween screaming.

Leo picked Riley up, cradling her in his arms he carried her to the SUV that was waiting for them. Hana grabbed Riley’s hospital bag from their chambers, quickly making sure everything was in- she was excited and nervous for her friend.

“Good luck Ri. We can’t wait to meet our niece. We will all meet you at the hospital. Love you.”

****

Arriving at the hospital, Leo was blinded by all the flashes in front of the car. The press were camping outside the hospital grounds, how they found out Leo didn’t know. He was furious. He demanded that the royal guards find another discreet way into the hospital. Riley looked exhausted already, he was hoping Liam would get here as soon as possible- to be the strength she required to get through it. Leo carried her into the private room, he didn’t want to waste time in waiting for the staff to get her a wheelchair. Placing his sister in law gently on the bed, he asked if she needed anything. I need Liam more now than ever. Leo’s heart sunk- he felt guilty for abdicating especially now in this situation. He wished that a bit of his bad influence had rubbed off onto Liam and for Liam to refuse his duties for once in his life. If Liam missed the birth of his first born, it would all be Leo’s fault. Right now he needed to stay strong for Riley.

“Your majesty, you are about 6cm dilated.”

6cm- that’s good. Hopefully it’ll go slow, give Liam time to arrive, Leo thought. Riley held onto her brother in law for dear life. He didn’t know what to do. She was swearing, she was in pain. At every contraction she would inhale the gas and air- it was taking the edge off the pain rather than blocking it. Even though she was feeling lightheaded - Leo was so proud at how she was coping. He now knew how Drake must of felt because she was making his hand turn blue. Did he care? No. She was providing him with a beautiful niece and an heir to the throne.

****

It had been three hours since they had arrived at the hospital. Liam was still nowhere to be seen. In the back of Leo’s mind, he was furious that Liam had to go for meetings in another country weeks before the birth of his first child, he couldn’t shake this constant thought away. He was knocked out of his trance when he heard a defeated Riley try to talk to him.

“Leo, I can’t .... I can’t do this.”

“Riley you are doing brilliantly. Liam will be here soon....”

Before he could continue the doors swung open, Liam ran upto Riley, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead- holding her clammy hand, he was trying to control his breathing after running into the private wing.

“Thanks Leo. Riley I’m so sorry I knew I shouldn’t have left you.”

“You son of a bitch! You are coming nowhere near me again... I’d have committed treason if you didn’t arrive in time....”

The two brothers looked at each other with worried looks - both gulping. Leo decided to leave them to it. His hand needed a break- and he didn’t want to be in the firing line of Riley’s aggressive insults.

“Riley. I’m here now. I love you.”

“I’m sorry for.... for... calling you that... I love you too my king. Arghhh.”

*****

“You’re majesty, one last push. I can see the baby’s head. Just one more, I promise.”

Riley was lacking energy, she was uncontrollably sweaty, out of breath. Liam had been supporting her as best as he could and she was grateful. One more push and she would be holding her daughter in her arms.

After one excruciating long push, the room was filled with tiny cries, Riley flung her head back- as the midwife weighed the baby. Relieved that it was finally over, she gave her husband a stern warning.

“Liam, I swear to god. You do not touch me ever again. I’m not going through this again.” Liam shook his head, ignoring her as he fixated his gaze on his daughter. Kissing and hugging his Queen, he was so utterly proud of her. Tears ran down his cheek, he didn’t care- he was overwhelmed with the view in front of him.

“Riley, she’s absolutely beautiful. I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

The midwife brought the princess over to them, she weighed 6lb 9oz. She had sparkling baby blues like both her parents that kept fluttering open every so often accompanied by a jet black head full of hair. Riley laid her on her chest- having that mother/daughter skin to skin bond. All the pain she had disappeared as if it never existed. Stroking her daughters cheek, she had fallen in love instantly.

“Hello, my little girl. You have given us all a shock. I think Uncle Leo and Uncle Drake have both received broken hands because of your premature arrival. But I’m sure they’ll both forgive you. You are beautiful.”

Riley placed a kiss on the newborns head, Liam was just in awe seeing his two girls together for the first time. Grateful that he was able to make it in time. Liam held his daughters tiny fragile hand, she wrapped her hand around her father’s finger.

“She’s already wrapped around your little finger Li.”

“Riley, she’s... she’s a mini you. She’s beautiful. Daddy loves you so much our little miracle, our princess. You have completed our family. Daddy’s little girl.”

Riley smiled at Liam’s affectionate emotions towards their daughter. Moving up the bed so Liam could join them, the three of them snuggled close together. After all the shit they had been through, fate brought Riley and Liam back together and they had finally become a family.

The King and Queen Of Cordonia, would like to announce the birth of Her royal Highness Princess Ayah Rhys of Cordonia.

Weighing 6lb 9oz... born at 3.57pm.

We would like to congratulate the couple on this fantastic news. And we look forward to officially meeting our princess.

Ana De Luca - The trend

[msjr0119]

Cordonian Wags

Part 12- Crazy Kids

In a world full of Professional footballers and their demanding wives- can their football team nicknamed the ‘Cordonian Apples’ succeed? An American female physiotherapist joins the club. Will this cause issues with the footballers wives?

*This series is based on The Royal Romance characters who belong to Pixelberry - AU Plot switch*

Tags: @annekebbphotography @burnsoslow @drakesensworld @ladyangel70 @kingliam2019 @bbrandy2002 @butindeed @bascmve01 @drakewalker04 @pedudley @captain-kingliamsqueen @duchessemersynwalker @insideamirage @of-course-i-went-to-hartfeld @kozabaji @texaskitten30 @ibldw-main @kimmiedoo5 @nikkis1983 @dangerouseggseagleartisan @gnatbrain @walker7519 @lodberg @cmestrella @hopefulmoonobject @addictedtodrakefanfic @angi15h @liamxs-world @rafasgirl23415 @notoriouscs @whenyourheartskipsabeat @jovialyouthmusic @nz1091 @yukinagato2012 @indiacater @seriouslybadchoices @rainbowsinthestorm

******

Bastien dragged Riley and Lindsey to Constantine, furious with the chairman for this inconsiderate decision.

“Constantine- What the fuck? You knew about Riley’s marriage and then you bring him here!”

“Bastien, please don’t swear at me. This is good. Riley and Xavier can work together not only professionally, but they can save their marriage. Excuse me, myself and Regina have to mingle.” Regina looked at the three people stood in front of her with sorrow in her eyes. Bastien thought back to the time that he convinced Constantine to employ Riley.

Constantine was in his study, a scotch in his hand. There was hardly any interest in the new physio position. Bastien entered the room, feeling guilty that he left the club in the shit.

“Sir, have you found someone to replace me yet?”

“Not as yet. The few applicants haven’t got the experience required for this role.”

“I may have someone suitable for the role. She’s my goddaughter. She is the physio for a premier league team in the UK. She’s erm. She’s looking for a change.”

“Why would she want to leave such a good job?”

“Well. She’s married to the clubs striker- but they are calling time on their marriage.”

“Oh. Why is that?”

“The press perceive him differently to what he actually is. He has been unfaithful, hurt her in many ways. But she’s a good physio, she’s determined. I can stay and support her until she gets used to the role, if you’ll give her a chance.”

“Isn’t that the typical stereotype of a footballer though Bastien- being unfaithful? I don’t condone it, but they all do it. Tell her to send me a covering letter and CV.”

“I will do. You won’t regret it. She just needs a new start and a chance.”

“If I give her this chance, we will look after her, make her feel welcome. Support her. You have my word Bastien. You don’t know anyone looking for a managers job by any chance do you?”

“No Sir. But I think Bertrand will be a successful permanent manager.”

“Yes, I do believe that myself.”

******

“Uncle Bastien, just leave it. It’ll be fine. I’m not saving my marriage. I’m going to get my divorce one way or another. And if that means work with him for the rest of the season, I’ll have to do it. You know what he’s like- he will probably be in the press sooner or later for something negative.”

“How can you be so calm about this? I’m due to be going back home in a few days. You’ve been well and truly stitched up, Ri. I don’t know what his intentions are with him bringing him here. But you’re putting yourself in danger!”

“Linz. It’ll be fine. Just trust me. Bast I might need your help at some point though.”

Bastien and Lindsey looked at each other concerned, but Riley’s smirk had them questioning what she was planning. Returning to their table, everyone remained silent- not knowing what to say.

Riley sat next to Drake, attempting to hold his hand - brushing her hand away he held his head in his hands.

“What’s up Drake?”

“Oh I don’t know Riley. Maybe the fact that your husband is here.”

“No shit Sherlock! Why won’t you hold my hand?”

“Because he’s here.”

“Oh but you can kiss me and fuck me when your girlfriend was here!”

“Riley I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m going home.”

Riley stood up, concealing the tears that were forming in her eyes. Bastien and Lindsey followed- Lindsey apologising to Leo, suggesting that he stayed at home or with Liam. Her sister needed her. Drake stood up abruptly to follow them before Leo advised him to stay put.

****

Finding Riley outside smoking, Bastien knew she wasn’t calm or strong as she made herself out to be. Pulling her in for a hug, he couldn’t breathe with the smoke surrounding them.

“Both of you are coming home with me tonight. I’m not taking any risks.”

Riley wasn’t sure. Since she had been in Cordonia she seemed to have ‘sofa surfed’ rather than stay at her own apartment. Arriving at Bastien’s house, the girls wondered why a single man would need such a big house.

“You girls came here when you were both younger- you probably won’t remember. You’ve both got a room each.”

Walking into the kitchen, they smelt coffee and an aroma consisting of food from New York.

“Hi girls, Bastien informed me of what had happened. Are you okay Riley? I hope you don’t mind- I thought you’d appreciate it.”

Riley and Lindsey tucked in to the food that Bianca had provided them all. Both smiling having the reminder of home, they both forgot about that drama for a bit.

“Thank you Mrs Walker, I’m fine. Arsehole men for you.”

“Not all men are arseholes Riley.” Lindsey stated, she was missing Leo already. She knew he was married but she couldn’t help fall for him even with her sister warning her not to fall for a footballer.

“The ones I seem to choose are. Excuse me. I’m going to go to sleep. Night everyone.”

Bastien explained how Drake was cold towards Riley, he believed that was bothering her more than the fact that her estranged husband had unexpectedly turned up. The three of them agreed to contact Drake to come over.

*****

Drake arrived shortly after, receiving a stern expression from his Mom and Bastien. Lindsey poured him a whiskey knowing that his Mom was going to berate him after Bastien explained the events that had occurred.

Bianca berated him explaining to not mess with Riley’s feelings and that she would need him more now than ever.

“Mom, I’m not messing her about. I just thought she might want to give her marriage another shot now he was here in person.” Lindsey spat the drink out, laughing uncontrollably, Bastien shook his head in disbelief that Drake would even think that.

“I know we’ve only just met, but the first night I kissed her- she made me weak at my knees. I’ve never felt like that before. It made me realise that Kiara wasn’t the one.”

“Damn right she wasn’t the one. She hurt you Drake! Every type of abuse. You don’t deserve that. You deserve to be happy, so does Riley.”

“What do you mean ‘every type of abuse’?” Lindsey’s eyes widened, wondering how much alcohol she had consumed - assuming she misunderstood Bianca.

“Kiara, she Erm. She was unfaithful... she did things to me that I don’t really want to talk about it, Lindsey.”

“You two are like peas in a pod. Xavier made my sisters life hell. He was unfaithful, he abused her, he made her miscarry my nephew. You both need each other.” Lindsey slurred, regretting what she said the moment it slipped out of her mouth.

“He did what?” Bianca said in astonishment.

“Too far Lindsey! She doesn’t want people knowing that!” Drake thought about his words from his sister a few days ago, and linked them to what Lindsey had just said. His heart sunk at the thought of Riley confiding in Savannah.

“Savannah... she... when me and Riley slept together, Sav had spoken to Riley and later told me that she knew more about Riley’s past and to not hurt her. Why would she confide in Savannah? I need to see her, which room is she in Bast?”

*****

Knocking on the door quietly, he wasn’t sure what to expect- would she still be angry? Would she have finally calmed down? Drake knew he was in the wrong.

“Bast, I’m fine. Please just leave me alone.”

Opening the door, Drake saw that she had been crying. She looked so defeated which broke his heart, especially after finding out about her past due to Lindsey’s slip of the tongue.

“Can I come in?”

“Sure. I thought you was Bastien.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he wanted to keep a distance in case she decided to throttle him.

“Ri. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“When I realised that it was him. My brain froze. I just thought because he was here in person, you may want to save your marriage.”

“Drake- trust me. I’d rather be dead than save that marriage. I was young and naive when I met him. Biggest mistake of my life. At times I just wished I had stayed in the states. He was a different man when I first met him. A charmer. I felt safe. I thought somebody actually liked and loved me....”

*****

Riley was studying Sports Rehabilitation degree at the University of Salford. She had moved to the UK from New York after her parents tragically died- needing a fresh start.

One Friday night, her room mates arranged to go out to celebrate finishing their second year. Riley was intending on returning to New York to spend time with her older sister- so intended to make this a night to remember.

Entering the club, it was full of students. Walking near the VIP area, there was a crowd of screaming women. Riley and her friends rolled her eyes back, their mouths were dry and needed to get to the bar. Eventually pushing their way through the crowd- they ordered champagne. Go big or go home. Standing up to go to the toilet Riley accidentally elbowed a man in a suit.

“I’m so sorry!” Riley stood frozen. She knew who he was but needed to not act starstruck.

“Don’t worry Miss.” Riley softly smiled at him, trying to avoid the man everyone had a crush on.

“Enjoy your night.”

“Wait! Do you want a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Please. I’d be honoured if you joined me for a drink.”

“I’ll join you for a drink if it’ll make you happy after I’ve been to the toilet.”

“Fabulous. Come to the VIP area afterwards.”

It’s just a drink. He just wants a drink. Accept the gesture, then leave. He’s the captain of Manchester City- what would he see in a poor student?

Checking her hair and topping up her lipstick, she decided to make her way to her friends- hoping to try and avoid the VIP area.

“What took you so long?”

“Oh... there... there was a queue. You know what women are like. I was honestly tempted to just go in the men’s toilets.”

Xavier gestured her into the VIP area, all the men smiled at her. But none was admiring her like he was.

“What’s your name? I assume you’re not from around here.” Winking at her, she laughed at his poor flirting skills.

“My names Riley. You assume correct. I’m from New York. I’m actually here studying Sports rehabilitation. Ive just finished my second year. We’re all celebrating.”

“Nice to meet you Riley. I’m Xavier. Oh you are? You could work with us when you qualify.”

“I’m actually going back to the States when i qualify.”

“That’s a shame. You’re beautiful you know that?”

Riley and Xavier spoke for the remainder of the night. Both getting to know each other. He was charming towards her, her heart fluttered everytime he spoke or held her hand.

“Thank you for the drinks. I should really get going.”

“Thank you for the company. You’ve really made my night.”

Riley felt herself blushing- hoping he wouldn’t see due to the dark lighting. As she was about to leave he pulled her into his embrace before cupping her cheeks. Fixating his eyes on her baby blues- he lent forward. As his lips touched hers, she closed her eyes- wondering if she was dreaming. Breaking the kiss, his eyes contained need and desire.

“Do you need an escort home? I don’t want this night to end. I want to get to know you. Do you believe in love at first sight?”

*****

Riley finished explaining how she met Xavier- she didn’t want to talk about her love life in front of Drake. It just slipped out.

“If he stayed like that. The man I fell in love with. We would probably still be happily married. Funny how life chances isn’t it.”

Drake fully understood how she felt, Kiara wasn’t the women he had once fallen in love with. He wanted to inform her what Lindsey had said downstairs- but didn’t want her to think they were all gossiping.

“Not all marriages last until you are 80 odd Ri. I mean look at Leo. Finally he’s divorcing Maddy- and that’s because Lindsey came into his life. He’s known her all of a few days and she’s changed his life.”

“He does know that Linz is going back to New York in a few days right? And I’ll probably be joining her.” Drakes felt as if he had been stabbed through the heart. She was giving up.

“You can’t leave. Neither of you.”

“Lindsey has a job. She has a house there- our parents house. I’m sure Uncle Bastien could cover me for a few matches. Nine months, I will have to work with him. Nine fucking months Drake. That’s nearly a year. I can’t even move on with my life because he’s not signed the papers yet. I can’t be free from him. I don’t give a shit about money or whatever I’m entitled to. I can’t even get married ever again if I wanted to. I can’t start a family, without him being a burden. I’m 24 on Saturday- what 24 year old gets married and potentially divorced at that age? I’m really living the life of Riley.”

She laughed sarcastically before pulling her knees up to her chest, she couldn’t conceal her true feelings and strong attitude anymore. Drake reached out for her hand, slowly rubbing his thumb over her knuckles- she fixated her gaze on him, smiling for the first time since he arrived.

“We all make mistakes, it doesn’t mean that you have to stop living. You’re young Ri, you have a fantastic future ahead of you wherever that will be. And it’s your birthday?”

“So do you, you’re amazing. Have you rest your ankle by the way?”

“Sort of- don’t worry I’ve been following your advise ma’am. The pain from my ankle is nothing compared to the pain you’re going through. If I could take it away I would. Don’t avoid the question about your birthday.”

“I’ll be checking your ankle, Walker. We need you back on the pitch as soon as possible. I’m not avoiding it, when you get past 21 a birthday is just another day reminding you that you’re a year older.”

Drake stood up, and slid into bed next to Riley- putting his arm around her. Turning her head towards him she smiled, before nestling her head onto him.

“Riley... Lindsey said some things downstairs before I came up to see you.”

“What?”

“She explained how he hurt you. If you ever want to talk about it- I’m here for you. Always. I lo-like you a lot. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I fall asleep. I will protect you.”

Riley shot out of bed, furious - wondering how much Lindsey had told him. Running downstairs, she hoped her sister was there. Drake followed her downstairs regretting what he had said.

“Linz! How could you!”

“What? This thing between you isn’t some fling. I’ve seen how you both look at other. It’s adorable. If you are both going to move on from your fucked up relationships you both need to talk about it - open up to each other. The only difference between the two of you was that you was pregnant. Everything else was the same.”

“Hardly the same! Kiara only cheated on him.”

The room went silent, Lindsey realised that Riley didn’t know the full truth about Kiara. Realisation hit Riley like a ton of bricks after witnessing everyone’s expressions fade. Turning to Drake, she had sorrow in her eyes.

“That night you split up with her... that wasn’t the first time she’s hurt you was it?”

“No.” Drake bit his lip- feeling embarrassed, with a lack of masculinity. Riley hugged him tightly, his arms went around her tiny frame. Staying in that position, they both held other lovingly. Bastien, Lindsey and Bianca gave each other a knowing look- the look suggested to leave the two alone to talk.

“Oh is it that time already? It’s a bit late. I think it’s time we all went to sleep.” Bianca suggested.

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