#the girls leaving bbc came out of nowhere

[pink4valentine]

i listened to the triples album and its their absolute best album no question but i gotta be honest there is nothing seperating triple s with artms musically like all of their songs are so interchangeable between both groups and its all good music so it doesnt matter but its hard to rly seperate the two bc if u like artms' music then u automatically like triples' music as well and vice versa

[liz-on-leash]

Live To Breed

[Commissioned]

VIVIZ SinB/Hwang Eunbi

Gangrape, Mentioned Death, BBC Tribesmen, Breeding, A Lot Of Cum, Vaginal Fuck, Anal, Pregnant Fuck, Some Other Heavy Stuff.

3,919 Word.

The day started like any other for VIVIZ, but shit was about to hit the fan in the most fucked-up way possible. SinB, the feisty one, Eunha, and sweet Umji were bouncing around in their jeep, deep in the heart of the African jungle, looking for some thrill.

The girls were living their best lives, laughing and joking, when all hell broke loose. A freaking stampede came outta nowhere, like some shit from a horror movie. The driver hit the brakes, but it was a lost cause. 

The jeep went flying, and SinB went airborne, straight into a goddamn tree. Her clothes ripped like wet tissue paper, and she was left bruised and bleeding, screaming her lungs out.

"FUUUUCK!" SinB howled in agony, her voice raw as a guttural scream. Her sexy outfit was in shreds, exposing her smooth skin, now marked with scratches and cuts that would make a horror flick proud. 

She tried to get her ass up, but her body was like jelly, trembling and weak. Where the hell were Eunha and Umji? She cried out for them, her voice fading in the vast jungle.

The jungle, usually buzzing with life, went dead quiet, like it was mourning the crazy shit that just went down. SinB's pleas for help bounced off the trees, her voice cracking with each desperate call. 

The pain was a bitch, clouding her vision, but she fought to stay conscious, refusing to black out. As the sun started its slow descent, painting the sky with fiery colors, a crew of hulking dudes appeared, straight out of a tribal wet dream. 

These motherfuckers were ripped, their dark skin glistening with sweat, and all they wore were tiny-ass loincloths that left nothing to the imagination. Their bodies were inked up with tribal tats, and their eyes held a wild intensity.

SinB's mouth hung open as she took in the sight, momentarily forgetting her pain. These dudes were built like gods, and their sheer size made her feel like a tiny doll. 

They muttered to each other in some ancient tongue, their deep voices rumbling like thunder, probably discussing the hot mess of a woman in front of them.

"Help... please, help me," SinB managed to whisper, her voice scratchy and weak. The men's eyes narrowed, their gazes intense enough to burn holes through her. 

They didn't give a shit about her plea, probably thinking she was some crazy jungle spirit. The biggest dude among them strode over, his muscles flexing with each step. He scooped SinB up like she weighed nothing, causing her to whimper.

This beast of a man carried her through the jungle like she was his prize catch. SinB's eyes darted around, taking in the unfamiliar sights of their camp. It was like a scene from a National Geographic documentary, with buff dudes going about their business, their bodies glistening with sweat and dirt.

These savages didn't waste time with pleasantries. They ripped what was left of SinB's clothes, leaving her in her skimpy underwear, her curves on full display. 

She tried to cover up, but these guys didn't give a damn about modesty. They cleaned her wounds, their rough hands exploring her body, and wrapped her up with some dirty-ass cloth.

"Fuck off!" SinB tried to fight, but it was like a kitten swatting at a lion. A sharp slap landed on her face. "Ugh!" She tasted blood, her lip split open. Another jab to her ribs had her gasping, reminding her just how helpless she was.

The men finished patching her up and shoved some weird-ass herbal shit down her throat. SinB choked and spluttered, her eyes watering from the bitter taste. 

Satisfied, two of them grabbed her, ignoring her weak struggles, and hauled her ass to a nearby barn. Inside, it was like a damn dungeon, filled with terrified women from different corners of the world.

The women were a sorry sight, some crying their eyes out, others moaning in pain, their bellies swollen with pregnancy. SinB's heart hammered in her chest as she realized she'd landed in some tribal sex cult's lair. She tried to scream, but her voice was shot.

Just then, all hell broke loose outside. A group of the tribal dudes, their massive cocks swinging free, dragged a screaming woman outta the camp. Her pleas were met with laughter and crude catcalls.

The men's laughter was like a sick chorus, their eyes wild with lust. SinB's blurry vision focused on their massive dicks, already hard as steel, ready to invade some poor woman's body.

The men wasted no time, and the woman's screams echoed through the camp, a haunting soundtrack to the night's twisted festivities. SinB's eyes fluttered, her mind overwhelmed by the day's events. 

The last thing she saw before passing out was the terrified faces of the captive women, knowing their fate was about to get a whole lot worse.

The night had turned into a fucked-up, twisted sex fest, and SinB was front-row center for this sick tribal ritual. Her eyes popped open as the barn erupted with screams and moans.

The women, who were once crying their eyes out, were now getting pounded by these tribal beasts, their cries echoing like a damn horror movie.

"Oh fuck, mercy, please! No more!" a woman begged, her voice raw from screaming her lungs out. But the men just kept pounding her from every angle, their dark, sweaty bodies slamming into her like wild animals.

"Harder, you motherfuckers! Break me in half!" another chick screamed, her body bucking as two dudes took turns drilling her, their cocks stretching her holes like she was some damn sex toy. 

The scene was brutal, but damn, it was hot as hell. Even the preggo ladies weren't off-limits.

"No, not my ass! My baby... oh, fuck, no!" a pregnant woman wailed, her eyes rolling back as a dude hammered her ass, not giving a damn about her swollen belly. The sight was enough to make SinB's stomach churn.

SinB's eyes were like saucers, taking in the savage display of raw, animalistic fucking. Her body ached to run, but she might as well have been glued to the ground. She tried to crawl away, but it was like trying to escape a pack of hungry wolves.

"Please, just let me go, you bastards!" SinB's voice was raspy, barely a whisper.

These dudes weren't having any of it. They grabbed her like she was their personal plaything. One dude chuckled, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine.

They pinned her down, their rough hands holding her arms and legs, spreading her wide open like a buffet. SinB screamed and kicked, but it only made these animals harder.

"Let me go, you animals! Help!" SinB's pleas were desperate, but they just laughed, their eyes wild with lust.

The dude on top of her, his cock already hard as steel, ripped her panties off like they were nothing. "No, stop! Get your hands off me!" SinB shouted, her voice breaking as he groped her tits, squeezing and twisting her sensitive nipples until she saw stars.

Pissed off by her resistance, the dude stood up and stomped on her stomach, making her gag and cough. Before SinB could catch her breath, another dude was on top of her, his thick cock aiming straight for her mouth.

SinB's eyes widened as his cock invaded her, stretching her jaws to the max. This dude was packing an anaconda, and it hit the back of her throat, making her gag and choke.

He grunted, face-fucking her like a pro. SinB's throat bulged, moving up and down, her eyes watering, snot and spit flying as he pounded her face. Another dude cheered, slapping her ass hard enough to leave a mark.

The dude pounding her face went to town, his balls slapping against her chin, making her gag and choke some more. SinB's body shook, her bound hands clawing at the dirt, her throat working overtime to take that massive cock.

He growled, his hips slamming into her aching throat. SinB's eyes rolled back, tears mixing with the spit and snot as she struggled to breathe. Her throat was on fire, but this dude wasn't letting up, his cock throbbing, ready to unload his cum down her throat.

The barn had become a twisted, hardcore sex dungeon, where SinB's screams and the other women's cries were the soundtrack to a night of brutal, non-stop gangrape.

The tribal black men were on a roll, and SinB's mouth was their fuck toy. These motherfuckers took turns shoving their thick, veiny cocks down her throat, face-fucking her like she was their personal cum dumpster. 

SinB choked and gagged, her eyes watering like a waterfall as she tried to take their massive cocks. One guy gripped her hair like a leash as he pounded her face. SinB's throat was getting fucked raw, her gag reflex going crazy, but these animals just kept going harder.

Another guy shouted, slapping her face with his thick palm. SinB's cheeks stung, but he didn't give a shit as he jammed his cock down her throat, making her eyes bulge like a cartoon.

"Can't... breathe!" SinB managed to gasp between the thrusts, her voice muffled and desperate. But these savages just laughed, their rough hands holding her head like a pet, forcing her to take their cocks.

One after another, they blasted their hot cum down her throat, making her swallow their seed like it was her job. SinB's belly was swelling, her throat on fire, and she felt like she was gonna puke her guts out.

"No more... gonna puke!" she whimpered, her eyes pleading for mercy but a hard slap landed on her cheek, making her see stars.

One man growled, grabbing her hair and forcing her mouth open for his throbbing cock. SinB gagged, her throat convulsing as he face-fucked her with zero fucks given.

These native men were all about getting their rocks off, and they didn't care about her comfort. Some even used her hands and thighs to jerk off, covering her skin with their hot, sticky loads. SinB's body was a mess, covered in sweat, cum, and bruises.

The barn was a horror show, with women's screams and moans filling the air. SinB's eyes darted around, witnessing shit that would give her nightmares for life.

"Help... I'm pregnant! Have mercy!" a woman begged, her belly shook as two men double-battered her pussy and ass. The poor chick was screaming, but they just kept pounding until she went quiet, her body limp and her holes bleeding.

A man grunted, his cock buried deep in the ass of a woman who was clearly out cold. SinB watched in horror as he pumped away, not giving a damn about the blood or the fact that she wasn't even conscious.

“No, no, no– Oh god!" another woman cried, her body arched and bruised as three huge black men took turns violating her. Her screams turned to whines, then silence as the pain overwhelmed her.

SinB's throat was on fire, and her stomach felt like it was gonna explode from all the cum she'd been forced to swallow. When a cock finally pulled out of her mouth, she puked, spewing a mix of cum and bile.

"Fuck— argh, can't swallow anymore!" she begged. But they didn't give a shit. A sharp slap landed on her mouth, making her eyes water.

A man barked, grabbing her hair and shoving his cock back in her mouth. SinB gagged and choked, her throat working achingly to take his thickness as he fucked her face with no mercy. These tribesmen made sure to mark her as their territory. 

They flooded her mouth, on her body, and even made her lick their balls. SinB's body trembled in disgust, her throat and mouth abused, but they just kept going, their cocks throbbing and unloading their semen wherever they pleased. 

Time had lost all meaning for SinB as the assault on her mouth continued. These tribal studs had been using her face as their personal cum dump for hours, forcing her to swallow load after load, even as she puked it all up. 

Her stomach felt like it was gonna burst, her belly swollen and hard, a testament to the endless cumshots she'd been forced to take.

SinB's body was a mess, her once flawless skin now glistening with sweat, her hair sticking to her forehead. 

Her lips were swollen and bruised, gaping open as if they'd forgotten how to close, and her throat was on fire, like she'd swallowed a flaming blade. She couldn't feel her face anymore; it was just a numb, throbbing mess.

Her curvy body had gone limp, her arms splayed out on the dirty ground, but the men held her head up, ensuring her mouth was always available for their pleasure, cocks sliding down her throat, making her gag and choke, her eyes rolling back in her head.

SinB's mind was fuzzy, her body exhausted, but the men showed no signs of stopping. Her throat was so fucked, it felt like a permanent part of their cocks was lodged in there. She couldn't even swallow her own spit without pain.

As another thick release was forced down her throat, SinB's body went into overdrive. She convulsed, her eyes rolling back, and for a moment, she thought she was gonna pass out. The man finally pulled out, letting her fall to the ground like a ragdoll.

SinB gasped for air, her body twitching uncontrollably, her throat and mouth leaking cum and saliva. She lay there, unable to move, her eyes pleading for this nightmare to end. The men, however, seemed to be just getting started.

They stood around her, stroking their hard cocks, their eyes wild with lust as they discussed their next move. SinB prayed for death, for the sweet release of unconsciousness, but the gods weren't listening.

Suddenly, a massive man stepped on her swollen stomach, making her cry out in pain. He twisted his foot, and SinB's body betrayed her, spewing cum and pee, her throat and pussy leaking like broken faucets.

"Oh god– fucking hurts…" she whispered, her voice barely audible. The man just laughed, his deep voice echoing in her ears. He then grabbed her ankles, dragging her out of the barn, away from the screams of the other tortured women.

SinB's heart sank as she realized this was far from over. She was being dragged to the center of the camp, where a crowd of over fifty tribal men awaited, their bodies naked and glistening with some ritual oil.

"No… just kill me," SinB mumbled, her voice weak and defeated. She wanted this torture to end, but the men had other plans. The idol's worst fears were about to be realized as the tribe prepared for a night of depraved rituals.

SinB was done fighting, her body limp as a rag doll as the men chained her up like a sacrificial lamb in the middle of this tribal orgy. They tossed her onto the wooden platform, her stomach heaving, causing her to spew out the cum she'd swallowed earlier.

The men were quick to secure her, chaining her wrists and neck, ensuring she was their helpless plaything. Her curvy body was on full display, the torchlight highlighting every inch of her skin.

A dude with a lean build grabbed her hair, forcing her to look up at him as he poured some weird-ass green liquid down her throat. It was some tribal shit to keep her awake and ready for their sick games. SinB gagged on the bitter taste, but at this point, she was beyond caring.

The crowd went wild as the first man stepped into the spotlight, his cock so big it swung between his legs like a damn pendulum. This dude was a fuckin' beast, and he was about to tear SinB a new one.

He crouched down, his hands gripping her soft hips like they were made for him. He lifted her ass, positioning her on her knees, showcasing her plump, round cheeks. The motherfucker poured oil on her ass, his touch making her tremble.

SinB's ass was a sight to behold, and this dude knew it. He massaged the oil into her skin, his thick-ass thumb getting dangerously close to her tight hole. With a deliberate move, he pushed his thumb into her asshole, making her scream like a banshee.

"Fuck! Stop, you bastard!" SinB cursed, her body going rigid as she felt her ass being stretched beyond its limits. The dude's thumb worked her hole, making her scream and beg, her struggles against the chains useless.

The pain was off the charts, her ass on fire as he finger-fucked her, preparing her for the main event. SinB twisted and turned, her body a mess of desperation, but the dude held her hips like a vice.

Before she knew it, his thumb was out, and his massive cock was at her entrance, ready to breach her tight hole. With one brutal thrust, he impaled her ass, making her eyes roll back.

"Ahhhh, fuck! It's too big! It's splitting me— it's in my guts!" SinB screamed, her voice shaking. 

His cock was a monster, tearing through her sphincter like it was nothing. She felt it stretching her insides, poking places no cock should go.

The man held her hips, his cock buried balls-deep, and started pounding her ass like it was a punching bag. SinB's body jolted with each thrust, her pee spraying out as her bladder broken.

The crowd went nuts, their cheers filling the air as the man brutalized her ass, his cock owning her with each brutal stroke. SinB's screams were music to their ears.

The big dude was merciless, slamming his cock into SinB's ass like a jackhammer, her body taking the full force. Her legs were straight, toes pointed, as she endured the sensation of being impaled, her asshole stretched to its limits. It felt like she was trying to poop out a watermelon, but it just kept going deeper.

SinB's eyes were rolled back, her mouth hanging open, drool dripping down her chin as she groaned and whimpered. Her pale tits scraped against the rough wood with each jerking motion. 

The man grunted like a wild animal, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock even deeper. SinB's ass clenched around him, milking his cock as he pounded her hole. 

The pleasure was too much, with a few more deep thrusts, he exploded inside her, his hot cum filling her ass. He pulled out, his cock glistening with lube and cum, leaving SinB's ass gaping and sore. 

She collapsed onto the platform, her body trembling, unable to move or speak. But there was no respite for the idol.

Another tall, muscular guy stepped up, his cock already slick with oil. He knelt behind her, slapping her leaking pussy, making her jerk and whimper. SinB knew the routine by now, and she bit her lip, bracing herself for the incoming invasion.

A few men gathered around her head, their cocks in hand, stroking and getting off on the sight of her oily, abused body. One dude even stepped on her head, his foot pressing down as he admired the show.

The man behind her positioned his thick cockhead at her pussy lips, teasing her entrance. SinB's body tensed, anticipating the pain. With a slow gesture, he pushed inside, making her moan and arch her back.

"Ahh, shit, shit— My pussy, uhhh!" SinB cried out as his swollen tip popped through her tight pussy lips, stretching her beyond her limits right away. Her pussy clenched around his cock, resisting the invasion, but he kept forcing his way in, inch by inch.

The man was tenacious, his cock a battering ram, pushing past her resistant flesh. SinB screamed and shook, her body a mess of pain as he yanked her onto his cock, burying it deep in her pussy.

Her pee sprayed around his girth, an indication of the intensity of the insertion. The men laughed, their eyes wild with unsatiated lust as the man kept punching her inner walls, his cock slamming against her cervix with each thrust. 

The sudden pleasure was intense, causing SinB's body to tremble and convulse, her pussy clenching around his cock as she climaxed, her juices flowing and mixing with his. But the pleasure was short-lived as his cock kept pounding, hitting her cervix with lethal impact, causing searing pain.

"Ahhh! Fuck, stop!" SinB cried, her body arching off the platform as the man lost control, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper. Blood trickled down her thighs as her pussy was torn and ravaged, the pain almost unbearable.

The man was in a trance, his cock throbbing as he emptied his load deep inside her, breeding her pussy with his cum. He pulled out, his cock glistening with her juices and blood, leaving SinB's pussy gaping and sore.

The men weren't done with her yet. They forced her to drink more of their herbal drugs, keeping her conscious. They even splashed water on her, cleaning the blood and dirt from her body, their rough hands scrubbing her skin.

SinB's body was chained tighter, her wrists and neck secured, ensuring she couldn't escape the breeding that awaited her. More tribesmen lined up, their cocks hard and ready to take over her abused holes.

Day after day, the ritual continued, with over 60 men taking their turns with her every single day. They raped her solo, double-penetrated her, and even tried triple penetration, stretching - tearing her holes beyond their limits. SinB's screams and moans were a constant soundtrack in the camp.

The only sustenance she received was their cum, fed to her by force, enough to keep her alive and fertile for their breeding games. Her memories of her past life as an idol faded, replaced by the constant sensation of huge cocks filling her sore, aching holes.

For weeks, SinB's disappearance was headline news in South Korea. The authorities found Eunha and Umji's bodies, but SinB remained a mystery. Little did they know, she was deep in the African jungle, being bred by a tribe of men.

Weeks turned into a blur for SinB, her body now permanently marked by the tribe's ownership. Her once flat stomach now sported a slight bulge, a result of the countless times she'd been bred. 

The men had moved her to the barn, where she joined the ranks of other pregnant women, all awaiting the birth of their tribal offspring.

SinB was on all fours, a leash around her neck, her body of stretch marks and bruises. Two tribesmen stood beside her, their rough hands massaging her swollen breasts, tugging at her nipples until milk squirted into a bucket, proof of her fertility - the only reason that kept her alive.

Behind her, a group of men took turns with her ass, their cocks pounding her hole to stimulate her milk production. Her pussy, already dripping with cum from the men who had just used her, was a constant reminder of her fate.

The once vibrant K-pop idol was gone, replaced by a shell of a woman, her body a vessel for the tribe's pleasure and procreation. 

SinB's mind was a haze, her memories of her past life fading with each brutal fucking. She was now a breeding machine, her body existing solely to produce the next generation of this unknown tribe.

[closetsof-backlogged-dreams]

thoughts on mordred’s story arc

oh boy do i have thoughts on mordred's story arc. (warning: theyre allll over the place)

here's the thing: i legitimately think that it was a good story arc, one of the best. i love bbc merlin and the charm of its terribleness, but the character arcs rly do piss me off. the constant and consistent problem with almost all of them is that the characters will change massively for... kind of no reason?

for example, when morgana began to hate arthur and want him dead and stuff—that development came out of nowhere. for the entire series up until that point, she had loved and cared for him. now, all of the sudden, she wants him dead?? now, it had made sense for uther. he had done terrible things to morgana and could very clearly see the line between her love and hate for him. you could to watch her tip-toe along it in real time until she began plotting his murder. that arc made sense. but arthur? there was no point where we saw arthur do anything that would make her hate him the way she did. he was just randomly lumped together with uther as another pendragon she had to kill to get the throne. but, again, it doesn't make sense! she never lumped them together. in the episode To Kill the King, morgana directly compares arthur and uther by telling him that, "You're a better man than your father. Always were." again, she never lumped them together! yet, later on, that's exactly what she does.

anyways, that was a bit of a mini-rant, but it was illustrating the point that bbc merlin was terrible at providing reasoning for their characters' arcs.

mordred's, tho? made sense. the reason he wanted to kill arthur was because arthur killed the girl he loved, kara. now, do i think that we should have spent more time with kara? absolutely! do i think that mordred's story as a whole made sense? of course not!

like, his connection to morgana never made total sense to me? i just wish that we got to see a lot more of his bond with her. when he ends up leaving morgana to join arthur, it feels kind of dry. like, yes, this is big and important and everything, but the only emotions i felt were panic from merlin. a bit more distress and grief over the lost relationship between morgana and mordred would have made the story infinitely better.

but i sort of get why they didn't do that, and its because they didn't show too much of mordred's emotions at all—he was a very bland character, tbh. with the rest of the cast, we know them through their emotions. everything they did was reasoned by what they felt. with mordred, we know him through his actions. he does a lot of stuff that i wish was more fueled by emotions the audience could actually decipher. tbh, when he killed arthur, it felt kind of out of place to me, because it was one of the first times we actually saw him do something so obviously fueled by his emotions.

overall, i think mordred's arc was objectively good because his actions did make sense. he did everything for a reason. i just think it would have been a million times better if we got to see his emotions more and watch them explicitly fuel the things he did. if they had done that, i think arthur's death would have made a lot more sense and hit a lot harder, because we would be able to justify it. when they distanced us from mordred, it was easy to hate him. i would have liked to see the audience's emotional turmoil if mordred had been a character that they could actually understand and relate to:)

[mickeytheticklee]

Flip that

Warning: Tickling

Possibly a long fic so pls enjoy :)

What potentially worried the members was last night, where you were staying up more late than usual. They thought after Hyunjin's tickle tap out you would've been tired but Jungeun heard the TV still on at 2am. She came out of her room to see you gulping down a Sprite, watching cartoons. You talked about being worried about the Chuu thing. The Chuu thing, which is Jiwoo leaving bbc and signing onto a new company because bbc overworks her. Your biggest concern is if she'll be forced to leave or forced to take off when it comes to another major event because she's not participating in the tour. When Jiwoo first revealed the news on a Sunday night dinner her first piece of advice was to not worry. But you worry anyway because you know there's more than bbc mistreating just Jiwoo. Like how Hyeju was giving lip service over one of the bbc employees because they were talking badly about you.

Jungeun: Go to bed...I'll sleep with you if you go to bed.

Y/n: I would like that...

A promise that Jungeun would cuddle with you got you to go to bed. Of course it took her awhile to get her eyes shut because she was worried about you and your stressful nights. First Queendom, Chuu, now trying your best for the members to get a win. Jungeun only slept with you for five hours before being woken up by Jinsoul and having to leave for Music Bank. In the van while everyone else was knocked out Haseul and Sooyoung were the only ones awake. They knew Flip That promotions were going to be much lighter than ptt so that meant more time at home. Which means more time to tickle you until the stress melts off your body. Both of them got a lightbulb idea...

Heejin: We're going on a picnic!!

Y/n: Yayyyyyyy!!

More like a day of running at the park because none of them want to make food but still yay. Once you got there you went on the swings with Yeojin. Most of the members were doing there own thing which was taking aesthetic photos or trying to create dance moves. Haseul was destined to find a spot to eat in case the hyper members got hungry. Hyeju got bored and wanted to catch you if you fly off the swing (even though she'll be trampled if that happens). But it's Hyeju, the type of girl who wants to live the dangerous life with Hyunjin. You tried stomping your feet on the wood chips so you wouldn't go that high but instead you bolted at Hyeju. She caught you and smiled, making sure you were okay even though she's the one on the ground covered in wood chips. She kept hugging you, giving you cheek touches until her naughty hands were tasering your sides in a nice hug.

Y/n: HYEJU HYEJU AHHAHAHAHHAAHAH

Only Hyeju can make a cute moment turn into a tickling to the doom moment. Chaewon was there to attack Hyeju by tickling her side, which made her pouty that she had to let go of me. You went to the playground, seeing Yerim running laps to avoid Heejin. Heejin was climbing up like king Kong trying to catch Yerim and eventually caught your foot. She was trying to pull you down to the slide but Yerim was dragging your arms trying to get you out. But it took one small tickle at your armpits to fall on the slide with Heejin. Even when you guys went down the slide she was tickling your armpits endlessly.

Heejin: I miss making your life harder by tickling.

Y/n: Hehheheheh I do too...

Throughout this ten minute of a span time you haven't heard Jiwoo's cute squeaks anywhere. You saw her further away from everyone else, looking at the sunset. You did want to check up on her but you thought she was letting out her emotions and needed time to herself. Sooyoung's plan obviously wasn't working as there was no big smile on your face. So out of nowhere she yells out Superhero, in which everyone got silent. It's a game where everyone has to defend themselves to protect you or else you'll be snatched and tickled. For you it's a fun game that the members created that you know can go for a long time because these girls never heard of the concept of giving up. Yes giving up is not bad but not when you're playing this game for like eight hours. Not even a second in and Hyunjin scurried you down to the ground to tickle you.

Y/n: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

Hyunjin: I AM UNDEFEATABLE!!

With Hyunjin having your shirt lifted a bit to scribble your belly. Then playing it like a piano while doing her into the unknown line for the thousandth time. Whenever you get tickled by Hyunjin you think she has the power of electricity because of how many times she shockes you while tickling you. Then hearing a soft yell Chaewon comes to attack. It's weird that Chaewon acts like Princess Peach when it comes to this game when it's Hyeju the Mario that's supposed to save the day. But Hyeju comes, pushing Hyunjin off you as you did run away but were faced with another problem. Hyunjin's sidekick the blue Betta fish was about to strike next. It took no effort for you to get back on the ground and get pinned by Jinsoul. All the tugging and messy rough housing made your shirt ride up to see your tummy. Which, by rule, means a raspberry.

Y/n: HAHHAHAH I'M DEFEATED I'M DEFEATED!!

Jinsoul: You can't say you quit unless everybody tickles you.

That wasn't a rule in the game that's just a rule in general for living with Loona. Which is why you can't sit next to Heejin sometimes. Jinsoul and Jungeun were barely the tickler type but when they do they like their go to raspberries. It may seem boring but Jinsoul knows her strong suit is her giving you armpit raspberries, specifically on the left armpit. Her doing that takes off your energy source like someone doing three raspberries on your tummy. This time it tickled more with your arms extended out because Jinsoul pinned down your wrists. Jungeun was about to join but Jiwoo the cute superhero took her down. You knew you were going to suffer with her armpit raspberries for awhile because Jinsoul isn't ticklish. Jinsoul got distracted for a short second, letting you wiggle out of her trap and go back to the playground, where you were met by the tummy hungry Sooyoung.

Y/n: SOOYOUNG!!

Sooyoung: Yes it is I. Ready to take you down and tickle you until you cry.

Cue her evil laugh. Somehow she seems more evil with her bright ass red hair. You tried to make a run for it, even though you barely had space to move. Then as a last minute impulse you slid down the pole and ran, which was a pretty good parkour moment. Then you realize this is Sooyoung you're running after, where she can outrun you easily. She grabbed you and carefully sets you on the ground, since she isn't the type to tackle you down (she'll only do that to Hyeju). If she was going to spend this time tickling you she had to go to your worse spot. She puts her hands into your pockets, and instead of finding loose change she instead found your hip bone. And immediately digging her thumbs into those bones which absolutely drove you crazy.

Y/n: STOP STOP!! HAHHAHAH THIS IS TOO MUCH!!

Sooyoung: That's a good thing.

Your once chance of escaping and she grabs on the loops on your pants to drag you back down again. Then she went back to her pocket tickling which made you laugh hard to where you didn't realize you weren't even pinned. Sometimes hip tickling and alternating between Sooyoung's thumbs to her four fingers does that. Then one hand creeping to go under your sweatshirt to get a taste of some tummy pinches. Sooyoung, Vivi, and Haseul were more of that type to do tickles that leave you fluttering. Expect right now you were attacked by pocket hip tickles in which she's never done before. The fluttery tickles were put a halt because Haseul came back with food (after an hour of being gone). Still Sooyoung didn't see that bulging smile she once remembers a long time ago.

Haseul: Let's eat and then you can play some more!!

Sooyoung: Jiwoo, let's talk before we eat.

Jiwoo: Okay.

Sooyoung saw it was best to not handle any tickle plans and tell Jiwoo straightforward that you were sad. Jiwoo was the best at planning tickle surprises or cheer up tickles, all it takes is a few teases and a blow out tickle surprise. You all were eating pizza Haseul bought and spent an hour finding. After Jiwoo drinks her coke she clears her throat, followed by tucking her hair behind her ears. A common signal meaning their best friend needs some fluttery cheer up tickles. Sooyoung did forget that Jiwoo intentionally made a signal for it so nobody has to do an hour long meeting about it. After eating the sun was starting to set, the sky was becoming darker. More people were leaving the park, which meant it was you and the tickle monsters.

Haseul: Mind if I join you?

Y/n: I don't mind.

You both were laying down on the dirty playground admiring the dark with a hint of light still leaving the sky. Haseul was resting her head on your belly but leaving her hand on your side where she's playfully leaving little circles there. You were giggling, trying to get rid of those ticklish sensations as a way to tease Haseul. While you two were smiling and messing with each other Jiwoo came. It was the first time you interacted with Jiwoo today since yesterday, where she and Hyunjin tickled you. Jiwoo climbs up the slide, hugging you from behind while Haseul lays on your lap. Then Jiwoo did the Sooyoung method and digged her fingers into your pockets to tickle your hips. It made you upset on how you couldn't move your legs because Haseul was sitting on your lap.

Jiwoo: Haseul!! Give her a raspberry!!

Haseul: Really? Okay!

Y/n: NO NO HAHHAHHAHAHHA WHY DID YOU LISTEN TO HER HAHAHAH!!

Because Haseul barely gets included in torturing you. She did a few more raspberries to satisfy Jiwoo but she still thought it wasn't enough. So they switched sides and Jiwoo pulled the meanest raspberry she can as well as giving pecks all over your tummy too. Jiwoo being good at raspberries would be an understatement for you. She's the best out of the whole group (but Heejin or Sooyoung don't need to know that). Then with some helpful strength you did make it out of their little cute trap. Then sliding down you ran, and it took no time for Jiwoo to catch up to you, and tickle you to death. It did take you by surprise because Jiwoo never takes charge to tickle you.

Y/n: WAIT WAIT HAHHAHAHHAHA!!

Jiwoo: My gosh, why should I be the only one fixing things around here?

Jiwoo pretending to be angry even though she wanted to do this since dinnertime. Wishing to tickle you and give you a big load of affection. Scribbling your sides and tummy and pinching those ribs she wishes to eat. Her favorite place to tickle you for cheer up tickles is the thighs as she notices that you laugh more in that specific spot. Everyone heard your laughter from Jiwoo's tickle powers and nobody cared to save you. Heejin comes...to pin down your wrists because Jiwoo wanted to try Jinsoul's secret weapon. With a good hour passing the members had to go home as their fun day at the park ended. You were wiped out from Jiwoo tickling you endlessly for about an hour. Usually an hour of tickling wouldn't bother you but Jiwoo kept hitting at your belly button and ribs while getting your feet.

Jiwoo: Baby, promise me you won't worry about me?

Y/n: No...you mean a lot to me and I always worry about you.

You two were snuggling in Sooyoung's large bed in your pajamas. Since you didn't want to promise her she got Vivi and they both did a raspberry on your tummy. With laughter and tears you were able to promise that you wouldn't worry. You both fell asleep on the couch, with Jiwoo forgetting she had her own home. In a way she missed the fun but chaotic nature of her tickle monsters and hated having to commute by herself. But what's worse than her getting upset is having you worry.

[sailorbadger]

The Fandom’s Least Favorite Character - an analysis on Kate

Kate is probably the most hated character in the Robin Hood fandom. Not even probably, she is the one who consistently gets the most hate. So, what has she done? Did she commit several murders? Did she kill off a beloved character? Did she do something so problematic that she deserves to burn in hell? Did she do war crimes? No, her biggest sin is existing among unfair circumstances.

The title of this post is kind of a lie. This analysis is not really about Kate as a character, but about how she is written, how the narrative presents her and how this all affects the fandom’s treatment of her. I started writing this because I am sick of seeing so much unnecessary hate for Kate. This is just me commenting on larger trends I have witnessed and a decade’s worth of frustrations finally being written out. If you do recognize yourself from some of my descriptions, I hope that this post will give you something to think about, but just know that this is not meant for any one person in particular.

I’m not going to try to convince anyone to think of Kate as their favorite character. I’m not even trying to make anyone like her. I’m just trying to see why she is so hated within the fandom. So, let’s start off with how it all began. Grab some snacks, you’re going to need them; this is a long one.

 Introduction: Is it all Merlin’s fault?

To understand the context in which Kate was introduced to the show, let’s first look at where we left off at the end of season 2. I’ll start with the in-universe changes first. The biggest change obviously is that Gisborne murdered Marian. This altered the whole course of the show. Marian was such a central part of not only the show but also the Robin Hood legends, that at that point it was obvious that things were going to change. Will and Djaq left the show as well. Them leaving is not as dramatic of a change for the show’s narrative since they were not as central as Marian, but they did make up one third of the gang. This meant that there was a need for new characters to be introduced in season 3.

In our world, things changed between seasons 2 and 3 as well. There was a larger gap in production than before (with seasons 1 and 2 coming out in consecutive years and there being a gap year between seasons 2 and 3), and some of the people working on the show left or were replaced. Robin Hood’s spot on the BBC schedule was taken over by Merlin for 2008 so I guess we could blame that show for everything that went wrong in season 3. (I’m obviously joking here but conspiracy theories are welcome.)

The most important change in my opinion – and I think this is even more important to how season 3 turned out than anything that happened in-universe in season 2 – is the fact that Dominic Minghella was no longer writing or producing the show. It’s surprising to me that the fandom as a whole doesn’t ever really talk about this, when in many other fandoms creators or showrunners leaving the show are usually a big deal and mark the end of an era. I myself only found out about Minghella’s departure from the show before season 3 this year, but it seems to explain a lot on why season 3 felt so different from seasons 1 and 2.

With all that out of the way, the stage is set, and it is time to look at how exactly Kate came into the show.

 Six boots, two feet

Season 3 starts off with my least favorite episode of the whole show (see my episode ranking for more details). It tries its best to address the events of the season 2 finale, but in a way that will let it quickly get to the season 3 storylines. Unfortunately, the things that happened at the end of the previous season were so important that they would have needed several episodes to cover the full impact of the events.

Kate herself is introduced in episode 2. She is immediately given a reason to hate the villains and join the fight when her brother dies. She doesn’t join the outlaws right away, but when she does, she essentially has to take over three roles at once. I do not think it’s a coincidence that I think episode 4 is Kate’s best episode and that she’s at her best before she actually joins the gang. That is the point in the show when she is allowed to be her own character rather than someone who is trying to fill a void.

Like I said, Kate has three roles to take over; she gets Djaq’s spot in the gang as “the girl one”, Will’s role as “the peasant with personal connections to the people’s suffering” (and interestingly, since Kate’s family is around, her connection could have been even stronger than Will’s) and Marian’s as “the love interest”. Since the season 2 finale got rid of both of the only female characters in the show, it was inevitable that they would eventually be replaced if the show wanted to include any romantic storylines (it was, after all, 2009, so queer representation was out of the question). With three pairs of boots to fill, and only two feet, it should not come as a surprise to anyone that Kate can’t possibly do it all alone. The show does introduce Tuck and Isabella as well to help fill the gaps, but I think Kate gets labeled as “the replacement” far more often than the other two.

 A triangle without a base is just an angle

Kate had all the potential for a good plotline. Her brother died, making her hungry for revenge, yet this part of her is only sprinkled in every now and then instead of being a part of her character arc. Instead, she is made a part of not one, not two, but three love triangles.

I’ll start with the Much/Kate/Allan one. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t actually exist. All sides of this “triangle” are… weird. The writers try to frame it as a legitimate love triangle, when only one person in it seems to have any real feelings for another character. Much is shown to be interested in Kate, but we as the audience are never given a reason for why he likes her or even how he fell for her. I guess we’ll just have to take his “I fall in love very easily” (from 2x4) quite literally. Kate does not seem to have any romantic feelings for Much, and she seems oblivious to his feelings as well.

To be honest, I don’t think Kate ever really saw Allan as an option either. At best I could admit that maybe she had a slight attraction to him, but I never got the impression that it was something she would seriously pursue. I don’t think Allan was seriously interested in Kate either. His flirting with her is quite similar to his joke-y flirting with Marian and Djaq. My friend and I talked at length about this, but Allan doesn’t seem like the type of person to flirt for real. This could be a whole analysis on its own, so I won’t go too deep into it here. But I don’t think Allan considers Kate a legitimate romantic option.

So, this “love triangle” only exists in Much’s head and in the narrative the writers try to force on the audience. The Kate/Allan side of it is practically dropped the minute Kate/Robin becomes a thing.

Then there is the Much/Kate/Robin/Isabella triangle that is not a triangle either. I already covered Much/Kate for the most part, so I won’t go into it. Since the Robin/Isabella relationship is not that central to Kate’s character, I won’t bore you and myself by going through it that deeply. The buildup for that relationship is practically nonexistent, and so is the end of it. The whole Robin/Isabella relationship feels forced, because the writers didn’t know how to properly replace Marian while coming up with something new.

Kate’s crush on Robin seems to develop out of nowhere as well. It looks like a pattern when it comes to romances this season. Robin himself doesn’t appear to have any romantic interest towards Kate until he and Isabella “break up”. After that point, their relationship progresses way too fast. It doesn’t help that they seem to have no chemistry between them, and Robin treats Kate like a child and then five seconds later proceeds to make out with her.

Honestly, if Kate had to have a romance with a character on the show (and with it being 2009 obviously they could not fulfil my dreams of Kate being bi but that’s beside the point), it should have been with Archer. The two of them had more chemistry in the 30 seconds they worked together in 3x12 than Robin and Kate had the entire season. It would have also made me far less uncomfortable, since the characters would have been closer in age. Which brings me to my next point.

 “There is only one thing worse than a rapist – a child”

How old is Kate supposed to be? Seriously, this show can’t seem to make its mind about her. In general, I do not trust anyone’s age on this show unless it’s been stated somewhere. I know some people try to base the characters’ ages on the actors’ real ages, but to that I say, “fuck that”. Archer is the best example of the fact that this show did not even try to cast people who are the right age, or even look the part. (Seriously, he does not look even close to being 20.)

That being said, Kate is written like she is both 15 and 25 at the same time. I don’t know if the writers had a specific age in mind when they were writing her, but there is a huge difference between those ages. I think it’s the most reasonable thing to assume that she’s in her late teens, maybe at most in her very early twenties. She is still living with her family (I know that most women at the time married in their 20s but it’s not like this show is concerned with historical accuracy) and her behavior is a little immature at times. With all that said, I hope it doesn’t come as a surprise to anyone that I find it incredibly uncomfortable that all the men that are presented as possible love interests to her are fully grown men.

It is the most obvious in Robin and Kate���s scenes. Like I said earlier, Robin treats Kate like a child and speaks to her in a condescending way, only to then make out with her in the same scene. I must wonder why the writers didn’t just age up Kate. I think it would have been more interesting to make her someone who is already married, and instead of losing her brother, it would be her husband that dies. Of course, I would prefer it if Kate didn’t have to be a part of any of these love triangles to begin with but aging her up would have made the dynamics far less uncomfortable. (I do have to also point out the fact that Meg is also written like she is a teen girl. The show then tries to pair her off with Gisborne, who is even older than the men Kate is being forced into love triangles with. So… yikes.)

 Let’s take a break, drink some water

Let’s take a moment to recap what we’ve learned here. First of all, Kate entered the show in unfair circumstances and with only two feet to fill three pairs of boots. She was only ever allowed to be a part romance plots, and she didn’t get a proper character arc of her own. In general, the women in this season were not written well (not that seasons 1 and 2 were the height of feminist television either), and they were reduced to being love interests or tools to further the male character’s plotlines. Without Dominic Minghella involved and with a full year between seasons 2 and 3, the show lost some of its charm. Unfortunately, this meant that Kate was not the best written character. But I do not think she deserves all the hate the fandom has given her over the years.

 Interlude: Doctor Death

Before I get too much into how the fandom has reacted to Kate over the years, I feel like I should explain my own history with this show and the fandom surrounding it.

I started watching the show when it was first airing here on TV. It was some time during season 2, and once I had seen my very first episode, I watched all the following ones as well. With the finale, there was a problem. I had seen 2x12 and knew that the final episode of the season would air the next week. I was so excited for it, but then my mother decided that we would all go out and have dinner. I kept looking at the clock all day, hoping I would make it home in time. I got home just to see the credits rolling. I’m still a little bitter about it.

After this, I was desperate to see how the season ended. I’ll remind you that this was before it was common for shows to be put online officially. Streaming wasn’t really a thing yet. I did the only thing I knew what to do; I went to YouTube. The thing is, I did not know that what I had been watching was the second season of the show. So, you can imagine my confusion, when I find the very grainy version of 1x13 on YouTube and start watching it. Eventually I figured out my mistake and watched 2x13. At some point I watched season 1 as well, but I honestly don’t have that many memories of when I first watched this show. My clearest memory is being betrayed by my own mother when she forced me to go out for dinner.

Since I do not remember what year this all happened in, I did some googling and if I’m correct, season 2 aired here for the first time in the summer of 2009, with reruns in the summer of 2010. Because I have no other memories for context, I can’t say whether or not season 3 was even out in the UK at the time. Anyway, I did not watch season 3 for a few years. I also didn’t engage with the fandom until 2012, when I joined Tumblr. (A side note: while trying to find out when season 2 aired, I found the episode titles and descriptions. Apparently 2x4’s Finnish title was Doctor Death. There were some real gems on that list but this one was my favorite.)

Over the years, I had read bits and pieces about season 3 on the internet. I was still upset about the end of season 2, and the things I read did not make me want to watch season 3. Sometime in 2012-2013 I finally gave in and watched season 3. I was mostly disappointed by the season as a whole, and as for Kate specifically, I found her annoying. In the fandom, I went along with the Kate-hate that was popular in the fandom at the time.

I did a full rewatch of the show with my friend in 2016–2017. During that time, I didn’t hate Kate as much as I did before. Maybe it was that I had a fresh perspective, maybe it was that I had matured in those few years. Who knows? I was mostly disappointed by the bad writing. Even back then, I wished that Kate had been given a proper chance.

The next proper rewatch of the whole series I did was this past winter. I watched the show in a non-chronological order with someone who had never seen it before. This time, I was angry at the writers and found myself half-ironically becoming a Kate-stan. I also began to really pay attention to how the fandom has talked about her over the years and was unnerved by the hate has she gotten.

So, here we are. Time to take a look at how the fandom has treated Kate. Most of this will be based on my own experiences and memories, so if someone else has a different point of view to offer (especially from the early days of the fandom while the show was still ongoing), feel free to comment! I just wanted to give you my own history with the fandom to show that I have indeed been around for most of the fandom’s history.

 The hate-train for Kate-town leaves from platform 4

It seems that from the very beginning, Kate was disliked. I remember reading negative comments about her way back in the early 2010s (I would try to look for examples, but I just spent 30 minutes trying to find out when season 2 first aired here and it’s currently 1am so I am not spending any more time googling right now). There are fics that make fun of her and how badly she was written, and most of the jokes and dislike about season 3 seem to always come back to her. This attitude has been present in the fandom in other contexts as well. Over the years, the hate towards Kate has come and gone along with the popularity of the fandom.

Every once in a while, someone has tried to either write Kate better or even see her as a character that was let down by the writers. Mostly this has not led to any significant change in the fandom’s attitudes. I feel like whenever some of the older fans outgrow their Kate-hate by either just maturing and realizing it’s pointless or just not wanting to waste their time making fun of her, new fans come in and start the whole thing all over again.

I am grateful, however, that the general consensus in the fandom seems to be (at least in the year 2021) that the actress is not to blame for Kate’s faults. It still does make me uncomfortable that people go so far as to cross out her face on pictured etc. just to show how much they hate the character. This hate that Kate gets feels very misogynistic at times and is at least partially the result of the show’s misogynistic writing, but the actress deserves no negativity for playing Kate.

 What about Isabella?

One thing that is very interesting to note is that while both Kate and Isabella were newcomers in season 3 and were both replacements for Marian in the sense that they were love interests for Robin, only Kate has received a significant amount of hate over the years. So why does the fandom not hate Isabella?

I think that a big reason for why Isabella is tolerated – not necessarily liked, I haven’t seen too many people genuinely enjoying her character – better than Kate is the way the narrative treats them. Kate is essentially forced down our throats. The show is so desperate for us to like her that they end up making her unlikeable. Isabella, on the other hand, is eventually made into a villain, and thus we’re not meant to sympathize with her in the end anyway. (I could write a whole rant about how Isabella’s treatment in the narrative is bad but let’s not do it here.) Isabella also has the advantage of being Gisborne’s sister, so her backstory ties better into already existing characters. I think it’s reasonable to say that Gisborne being a fan-favorite in certain parts of the fandom doesn’t hurt Isabella’s case either.

Isabella is also only involved with Robin, while the show keeps pairing Kate off (unsuccessfully) with almost half the cast. I think she was written in a way that reminds people of Mary Sues, and considering how fandoms tend to not like characters like that, it’s no surprise that Kate got all the hate she did.

 Murder and being annoying – they’re the same thing, right?

So why exactly does the fandom hate Kate so much? Obviously, the writing is a big reason. Season 3 is not written well, which means that Kate is not written well either. She doesn’t really get a storyline of her own, and instead her main purpose is to be someone else’s love interest. I would also add that Kate doesn’t really get hate for her personality. Most of the hate that she gets in terms of character traits revolves around her being annoying, but that’s not really a personality trait. So I think the issue is not her personality, but her role.

The next reason won’t surprise anyone who has spent as much time in fandoms as I have: Fandoms do not like female characters. Well, I should probably rephrase that. Fandoms tend to hate female characters more easily than male characters. I’m not going to analyze too deeply on why this is, as I’m sure someone has already done research on this with references to actual feminist theory. There is a lot of internalized misogyny in fandoms, and female characters get hate for even the slightest wrongdoing, while male characters who commit far worse crimes often have a strong fanbase that will defend them despite these flaws, especially if said male character is played by a conventionally attractive man.

Kate is also blamed for things such as breaking Much’s heart, even though she was never really aware of Much’s feelings in the first place, so it was definitely not intentional. She’s blamed for every small wrongdoing in a way other characters in the show are not. I’ve seen people criticize Kate for small things that she has not even done on purpose. Some of these people then also go on to ignore the fact that Gisborne has committed several murders, taken part in the oppression of the poor and done many many more atrocious things, and paint him as a more sympathetic character than Kate. I understand if you do not like Kate, but it feels misogynistic that the female characters are held to different standards than the male characters. I can already hear some of the Gisborne-fans saying “but I acknowledge his actions and think what he did was wrong! I just find him to be a misunderstood and/or interesting character”. To those people I will just say: Why are you not applying this same logic for Kate? Why are you making outright hateful comments about her? If you don’t like her, why not just ignore her? If you are a Gisborne-fan and have never made these comments about Kate, this obviously doesn’t apply to you. And even if you aren’t a Gisborne-fan, but you do recognize this way of thinking in yourself in regard to some other character, I encourage you to think about it critically. I just used Gisborne as an example since I know he’s perhaps the most popular male character in the fandom (at least if Ao3’s numbers are anything to go by). I’ve also seen a similar attitude from a lot of Allan-fans, though in their case the hypocrisy is often not as obvious, but I’ll return to Allan in a moment.

Many female characters end up getting hate because they get in the way of a popular (often m/m) ship. In this regard, Kate is kind of an outlier since she doesn’t exactly do that, since there isn’t really a ship to get in the way of. Sure, she’s eventually paired off with Robin, but Marian is already dead by the time she shows up, and if people were truly bothered by someone other than Marian trying to get Robin’s attention, they would also hate Isabella with the same intensity. I do think there is one “ship” Kate does come in the middle of, and here’s where we get back to Allan.

Now, the ship Kate does get in the middle of is not in fact canonical. I am of course talking about the popular Allan/OC trope. If you go on Ao3 or Fanfiction.net, you won’t have a hard time finding fics where Allan is paired with an OC. This is understandable, seeing that the show only has four main female characters to begin with, one of whom is already in a love triangle with other people, one of whom canonically ends up with someone else, one of whom is actively hated by the fandom and one of whom just does not interact with Allan.

I want to make it clear that I think it’s fine if people want to come up with their own OCs for the purpose of shipping them with existing characters, it’s just not my thing, especially when those OCs are any level of self-inserts. (I personally don’t feel the need to ship Allan romantically with anyone. I just tend to not like OCs in any fandom.) Since Kate is presented as a potential love-interest for Allan, I think many fans who would rather see Allan with their own character or even themselves view Kate as an obstacle or a threat.

As you may see, this fandom, like many others, unfortunately treats the women in the show differently from the men. Male characters like Gisborne are viewed as redeemable so long as they are attractive, but Kate is irredeemable for… breaking Much’s heart and/or getting in the way of Robin/Marian or Allan/OC? This is something that really bothers me. I don’t mind the fact that people don’t like Kate, it’s the extensive hate she gets that makes me uncomfortable.

 Conclusion: Where do we go from here?

Like I said in the beginning, I am not asking anyone to say Kate is their favorite character or to even like her. I just wanted to provide some things for people to think about regarding how they treat female characters. I think it’s about time the fandom took a proper look at itself and critically thought about how it speaks about female characters. It’s 2021, let’s not hate on female characters just for being a little annoying or getting in the way of shipping.

I haven’t seen the fandom analyze that much why season 3 is the way it is. I would love to see some meta about how Dominic Minghella’s departure and other behind the scenes factors contributed to the story and aesthetics of season 3. I would also love to see some actual analysis on the season 3 characters that isn’t focused on tearing them down. If the fandom never made another post about how terrible Kate is without providing any actual reasons, I would be happy. I can sort of understand this immature hatred coming from 15-year-olds, but I’m disappointed to say that I have seen fully grown adults tearing down Kate in this quite misogynistic way. I know that many people do not intend for their dislike of Kate to come across as misogynistic, but it does not erase the fact that that is how many of those hateful comments appear.

I think Kate had a lot of potential. Season 3 had a lot of potential. It is quite a move to kill Marian in the middle of a Robin Hood story, so they had the chance to take the story to all kinds of places. Unfortunately, the season 3 we ended up with was not of the same quality as the previous seasons. Instead of just hating on the characters or story in general, I think we should focus on really analyzing the season, and even coming up with our own ways of improving it. Many people have already done this (though unfortunately many of these attempts also include thinly veiled hatred towards Kate. It’s your story, why are you not treating her any better than the actual writers of the show?), but there’s always room for more takes.

At this point I will shamelessly advertise my own “Kate should have been the new Nightwatchman” theory and my Nightwatchman-fic. I wrote the latter in a way that would let it be a part of canon if necessary. I think that by refocusing the story and shifting the way we read the text, we can find new aspects of season 3, and perhaps even enjoy it more. That is what happened to me during my latest rewatch, and all it took was watching it in a non-chronological order and talking about it with someone who had never seen the show.  

I’m not trying to gatekeep the fandom and say that only thought-provoking analysis or fix-it fanfiction is allowed. I just feel like people should be more conscious of the message they are sending out when they write hateful comments about Kate, censor her name or even cross out her face from pictures. Is it actually funny? Are you contributing something to the conversation? Is it actual criticism or just hate for the sake of hate? You don’t have to start writing posts in the defense of Kate, but you can just start ignoring her. It’s not that difficult. It’s fine to make jokes, but let’s start thinking about what our jokes say about us.

I once more want to emphasize that this is not a callout post I wrote with any one person in mind. So, if you felt offended when I was talking about Gisborne-fans, Allan/OC-shippers or Kate-haters in general, I can assure you that this post was not about you personally. This is not about any individual person. I’m just commenting on trends in the fandom I have noticed over the years. I don’t think any of you have committed any sins or that you need to be cancelled. I just hope that if you did feel guilty reading this, you’ll realize that maybe this post was something you definitely needed to read. As a woman, I would love it if this fandom worked on getting rid of its internalized misogyny.

I’m not claiming to be right on all of this, in fact I have a lot of bad opinions as well. I hope this post has provided people with things to think about. Feel free to use this as a starting point for your own meta or analysis. I’ll end my rant here, and leave you with this thought:

Kate had a lot of potential to be a good character. She did not let us down. The writers did.

[my-fanfic-library]

Something Different {BBC Dracula x Reader} [23]

Masterlist

Warnings: dirty talk, Dracula swearing, very VERY dom Drac, mention of a breeding kink you’re welcome, biting, fingering (f receiving), oral (m/f receiving), thigh riding, squirting, just Claes Bang in general

A/N: since you were all so lovely to DraccyBoi in your asks (he’s still anticipating more asks btw), you receive a gift of smut! Also this one is so long I’m so sorry (pun intended)

~^*^~

Jack was smiling awkwardly at you. You hadn’t seen nor heard from him since you left Yorkshire and you were certain thar your friendship had come to its second end.

“Your mum invited me.” He explained and you rushed over to hug him.

“I am... so glad to see you.” You confessed, “but why the hell did you come all the way down just for a stupid party?”

“Well...”

How could he tell you? There was a lump in his throat that stopped him from speaking any further. If he told you, he would shatter everything that you had built. By the way you were quite literally glowing, he knew that you were finally enjoying your life. He was happy for you, of course. He couldn’t tell you. Not tonight. Besides, if he was lucky, word would reach you by the morning from somebody else, anyway.

He shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m here now and you’ve been a terrible friend by not messaging me or anything. For all I knew, you could have become a bloodsucker.”

“He won’t turn me.” You told him, “now come, there is alcohol in the kitchen.”

Taking his wrist, you lead him into the kitchen and straight towards the many half-drunken bottles of alcohol. The patio doors were swung open, the sound of laughter breezing in as many of the fishwives very obviously stood flirting with Dracula. He had been trying to get away and get back to you for the better part of 10 minutes but with no success. You ignored the sounds, helping Jack to pick the best alcohol for his mood and stood laughing with him for a minute or two.

“Hey, um, I was wondering if we could possibly go talk somewhere a little more private?” Jack suddenly piped up.

“I hope this won’t be like your private “talks” with Lucy.” You teased.

“Oh god, no. I don’t want to die just yet.” He chuckled.

“Very well. I’m sure you remember just where we can go.”

The place was another little sacred trove that you and Jack only knew about. This one dated back much further than Robin Hood’s Bay and had been the location of many break downs, underage drinking sessions and of course, your outrageous teenage gossip. Taking his wrist, you plucked up your own glass and pulled him out into the garden. You ignored the stares of the many women who suddenly began excitedly whispering.

However, it was almost too hard to ignore Dracula. You knew that being seen with Jack would hurt him, and you truly didn’t know how far you could push him before he left you or killed you. But Jack very rarely wished to speak privately with you. If he did, it wasn’t for no reason.

The bottom of the garden seemed miles away with such an angry, hot glare being sent your way. Had the man somehow developed laser vision within the next second, Jack would have been left without the lower half of his left arm, you were certain. With your betrayal being spoken so carelessly as if you weren’t even there by the wives, Dracula’s temper was rising quickly. You were definitely going to pay this time. You knew it. When you reached the bottom of the garden and both you and Jack disappeared beyond the small cut out in the bushes, Dracula’s temper surged. He finally waved away all of the women and made his way inside to slump down on the sofa, ignoring all the questions of the men.

When you emerged on the other side of the bushes, a small shed greeted you. Still painted with all the little flowers and signs Lucy, Jack, Daniel and yourself had painted, it reeked of a time long ago when you had been care-free and happy. The inside was a little dusty, but the cushions were still useable and the fairy lights still worked, so it wasn’t completely abandoned. You took your seat.

“Okay, so what’s going on?” You asked, taking a sip of your drink.

“I... well...” he hesistated.

“Jack, I hate to pressure you, but my very angry vampire boyfriend may just kill me for being with you right now, so the last thing you can do for me is tell me. I’m practically on my death bed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m moving back to London.” He blurted out.

“You’re what?! Why?!” You were shocked. Jack had settled in nicely in that little cottage you had left. He had begged you to stay. He was convinced that living by the sea was where he wanted - no, needed - to be!

He knew he was going to have to lie to you. He refused to ruin your evening further. Just his presence had caused a shift in the mood, he knew it. There was no way he would admit the truth. Not until at least tomorrow.

“I just... I missed it here. I’m... I want to be back down here, with you. With my family again.”

“Jack,” you sighed, “youre an awful liar.”

“I know.” He smiled sheepishly, bowing his head.

“If you can’t tell me why, I understand.” You smiled softly at him.

“No, it’s just- I-.. I can tell you but, I don’t want to ruin your evening.” His eyes looked up at you through his lashes.

“Then tell me tomorrow. Should we go coffees or something?”

“Yes but... you’ll need to bring Dracula.”

Okay. Something was wrong. You could tell by the way he strained to say his name that Jack did not like vampire one bit. After all, he had turned Lucy into a monstrosity and stolen you away from him, leaving him alone hundreds of miles away from anyone he knew. For him to ask you to bring Dracula to talk to him, no, something was definitely not right.

“Jack, what is going on?”

“Please, just... we’ll talk tomorrow. Until then, I missed you.”

He moved on, pulling you into him. He had truly missed you so very much, and if weren’t for the fact that he had begun to see you a little differently than before, he’d be livid with you for leaving him as you did.

You spent a little more time in the privacy of your little shed, just catching up on the weeks that you hadn’t spoken. It was nice to be with him again.

Whilst you were in there, Dracula was sulking hard. He had heard the wives (who had come inside for the comfort and privacy of Jack and yourself) whisper about how Jack suited you much better than he did. ‘Well he’s much closer to her age, they have much more in common’ one had whispered. ‘Yes, and they’ve been friends for so long, it’s inevitable that something would happen eventually.’ Would it be bad if he went in there and tore her head off? ��And the way he looks at her! I don’t think she realises. That Dracula looks at her like she’s food.’ They laughed. ‘Now, come on, Sally, that’s how your Mike used to look at you!’ Another bout of laughter.

Music was playing quite loudly in the kitchen, drowning out their voices, but Dracula could hear them clearly. His fingers gripped onto the arm rest of the sofa. Is this what society had come to? Mother’s bashing their own children and the people in their lives? How sickening.

“Awe, look!”

The room burst into sounds of endearment and Dracula finally stood. Stepping forward, he turned to look through the kitchen and out of the window. You had emerged again with Jack, and you were on the patio, arms around his neck, his hands dropped to your waist, swaying to the music.

‘Give me reasons we should be complete // You should be with him I can’t compete // You looked at me like I was someone else, oh well // Can’t you see // I don’t wanna slow dance // In the dark’

You threw your head back at something he had said, and he buried his head into your neck, right on top of where the bite Dracula had given you was concealed.

A hand came on to his shoulder and he turned his head to see your father. His cheeks were a little red and his eyes were glossed with alcohol.

“Don’t worry,” he began, “she’s only doing it to control her tyrant of a mother.”

“Her mother is insistent on picking her suitor?” Dracula folded his arms.

“You see that fella over there?” He pointed to a man standing in the corner. He was around your height, with a round, slightly puffy face. He wore a visibly expensive suit, fat fingers gripping a sherry glass which was empty except for a thin layer of liquid at the bottom of the glass. His flaming orange hair stood out, and he was currently talking to another young lady who was clearly jusy a little repulsed by him.

“Yes, I see him.”

“She’s been trying to get [First] to date him for years. Silly woman. He’s nowhere near good enough for my baby.”

Your words rung in his ears - “tall, handsome Mark” - and he scoffed in amusement and disbelief that you had played him like that. He looked like every middle class asshole portrayed on the television. And by the way he was shuffling closer to the lady he was engaged in conversation with, he could see why you constantly rejected your mother’s advances.

“I feel that someone should go and rescue that poor girl.” Dracula chuckled, thinking of how he could possibly get you back. He looked over at you once more. Now that the song had changed, so had your dance.

‘How long // Til you play me the song // That will me belong to you // One dance // With my baby tonight // And we’ll dance til the night is though’

You were a little more carefree, twisting your hips and laughing. Your fingers were interlocked with Jack’s as you lead your arms high above your head and arched them down and out. Jack was flushing a little and you laughed, pulling some space between the pair of you but keeping your hands locked. You were singing the lyrics. Your voice had always been pretty.

“I think it should be the taller of us, go give him a good scare.”

He intended on scaring two people tonight...

He glided across the room, quickly finding himself at the side of Mark and the lady. He pushed down his mischevuous smirk.

“I am sorry to interject, but I was just wondering if I could have a word with this fine lady.”

Her eyes lit up at his intrusion and he watched relief flood her face. He was her knight in shining armour, and he was going to milk it for everything that it was worth. Her hand immediately came out to wrap around his exposed forearm and pulled herself closer to him.

“Yes, thats fine-“

“Aren’t you supposed to be with [First]?” Mark sneered, looking Dracula up and down with disgust. It wasn’t the first time someone had looked at him like that, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

“Weren’t you?” Dracula jeered and Mark’s face deepened with a scowl.

“Come on, boys, don’t fight.” The lady beside Dracula spoke, trying to keep the peace.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dracula turned his head to her, “it would hardly be a fair match.”

“Why you-“ Mark’s face reddened, really bringing out the orange on the top of his head.

“Now if you’ll excuse us. Come along, pet.”

Using his free hand, Dracula placed it over the top of the woman’s and lead her away quickly.

“What a creep.” She retorted, “you’re Dracula, aren’t you?”

“Great observation. Though, I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name.” He lead her over to the sofa. Her pulse was lively. He sat down, and she, like a magnet, took a seat right next to him she pulled herself closer so that their legs were touching and she was almost moulding into his side. Dracula smirked. Please, please let you walk in and have a taste of your own medicine.

“Chelsea.” She purred.

“Beautiful. Now, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself, Chelsea? While I have you all to myself.”

“Are you sure you should be talking to me like this? You came with [First].”

“Do you see her around?”

Her eyes lit up once more. So she was one of these girls you spoke about with such distaste. A “thot” if he remembered correctly. A man-stealer. He could not have chosen a better target.

~^*^~

You spent another hour or so in Jack’s company, and it was during this house that the house began to die down as people began to leave. Your mother had asked you and Dracula to stay the night, as it was quite a drive back to his apartment and it would be dangerous to drive so late. ‘He’ll be too tired to drive!’ She’d almost wailed, as if she had a premonition of you getting into an exhaustion induced car accident. You assured her that he wouldn’t be tired at all he hadn’t slept in hundreds of years he wasn’t going to start today. But you ended up agreeing, anyway. She had kept your bedroom the same, including the single bed, so you didn’t really know where he’d be for the night. Maybe she’d force him to stay downstairs...

Once most of the people had left, you and Jack finally decided that it was a good idea to go back inside. After all, it was getting quite cold. Your mother was in the kitchen, talking to the last two wives who had yet to leave and the two eyed you when you walked in. You rolled your eyes. You hated her friends with a passion. In the living room, the last few men were stood laughing with your father. Mark was still floating around, sending sharp looks over to the sofa. Jack was quick to grab your hand, but regretted it when you squeezed in so much anger that you almost broke all of his fingers.

“Jack.” You spoke through your gritted teeth.

“Calm down.” He whispered, “don’t give them something to gossip about tomorrow.”

“They’re already going to be gossiping about us. Might as well juice it up a little.”

“Seriously don’t. Chelsea of all people isnt worth it.”

“I swear I’m gonna go over there and rip her damn extensions out of her fucking head.” You narrowed your eyes, “look she’s touching his chest!”

Your display of jealousy was making Jack chuckle behind his stoic face. He continued to hold your hand, thankful your grip had loosened. Sure enough, Chelsea was running one of her long fingers down the opening of his shirt where the expanse of his chest was available for her to touch. Dracula looked oh so very pleased with himself. Jack immediately knew was was happening and had to snort at the scenario. Trust Dracula of all people to give you a taste of your own medicine.

Chelsea laughed at something Dracula had just whispered into her ear and she pulled herself closer, wrapping one leg over his and curling her fingers around his bicep.

“I’m going to break her fucking kneecaps!” Jack pulled you backwards as you balled your fists.

“Calm down.” He chuckled. You snapped your head towards him, and he pulled you back into the kitchen.

“After I’ve put her in the hospital, you’re next.” You warned.

“You do realise that he’s doing it on purpose, right?” You pushes yourself away from him as he spoke, scowling.

“I don’t care why the fuck he’s doing it. The point is that-... that fucking slag has her hands all over my boyfriend! All over! And only I’m allowed to touch his chest!” You crosses your arms, unable to stop the pouty scowl on your features. You were mad.

“You are never drinking again.” Jack decided, “alcohol makes you vicious.”

“Sluts throwing themselves onto my boyfriend make me vicious!”

Jack burst into laughter. Your frowned settled deeper into your features and you very almost followed through with your urge to throw a glass at him. This was not funny! You could hear your parents saying goodbye to another set of guests and you finally decided enough was enough. Your heels clicked on the tile floor and then the sound shifted onto wood. You stood before Dracula, whos arm was around the other woman’s shoulders as he laughed with her. He looked you up and down with a cocky smugness that had your blood boiling.

“Oh, hi [First].” Chelsea gave you an obviously fake smile.

“Up now.” You ignored her, gaze burning into Dracula’s face.

“I am very comfortable here, thank you.” He retorted, not holding back his smirk.

“Up.” You growled. Dracula raised his eyebrows, mouth dropping with the smirk still evident.

“Someone’s moody.” Chelsea whispered. And that was it. The switch was flipped. The button was pressed. The red mist came down and you were no longer going to hold it back.

“If you ever step foot into my parents’ house again, I swear to god you will regret it. And if you don’t remove your hands and legs from my boyfriend within the next half-second, I going to drag your rat-ass onto the street and kick your fucking ass into next year.”

Dracula was looking at you like you were a meal. He had seen you upset. Yes, many times he had pissed you off. But this jealousy driven rage you were in right now? It was the hottest thing he had ever experienced. And he’d been in some very sexy situations.

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Her scratchy voice pierced the air.

“Did you not hear me?” You stepped forwards, eyeing her down like she was a piece of rotten meat covered with maggots, “did all of the plastic surgery on your face ruin your hearing? Should I repeat myself?”

Jack was in hysterics in the kitchen. Your father was watching in the corner with the proudest look on his face. Dracula was ready to jump you and help with your pent up anger.

“You bitch!” She rose, but before one of her hands could connect with you, you had grabbed her firmly by the hair and was dragging her through the room. She screamed and tried her hardest to get out of your grip but your fist had turned to steel. She pushed you hard into the door frame and you let go of her hair at last. One of her hands flew up, connecting with your face. Dracula rose.

“Don’t.” Your father stopped him, “she can handle it.”

Your father was right. You kneed Chelsea backwards, face red with a livid and boiling rage. Really, you should have had steam coming from your ears. That’s how angry her hit had just made you. Your fist came up, connecting with her face and it did a lot more damage than her hand had done. She cried out in pain, trying once more to fight back but you tangled both of your hands into her hair. The door was still open, your mother having stepped out into the front garden to watch with a look of horror.

“Don’t you ever come back!” You screamed, driving her out of the door and down the path. When she was out of the gate, you threw her body and she tumbled into the road. She looked up, glaring at you. You were heaving. Your arm came out to point at her, “don’t you set foot on this fucking street again! I’ll know if you do and I swear to the devil himself that I really will hurt you next time!” You roared.

“Sorry, did I make you insecure?” She sneered, “it’s not my fault I’m a better woman than you could ever be.”

A scream of pure rage left your lips and you stormed into the road. A car was on its way, but you ignored the blaring lights as your foot connected with her jaw. Had it been disconnected from her body like a football, it would have disappeared over the houses never to be seen again. Your foot connected with her body again, this time her ribs and then you were pulled backwards by two strong arms around your waist.

You weren’t done with her yet and as his grip tightened, dragging you backwards, you bent your leg, tearing your shoe from your foot and launching it at her. It struck her right on her forehead, bouncing off with a thunk and she finally rolled on to her back.

“I suggest no one follow us, I’m going to calm her down.” His voice rang through your ear as he momentarily propped you down before grabbing your wrist and pulling you up the stairs. He had clearly been snooping during the length of the party, as he got your bedroom right the first time and swung you in. Due to the imbalance of your legs with only one heel, you stumbled. The door shut and you angrily turned to face Dracula. He had blocked the door.

“Move.” You growled.

“You are not going to kill anyone tonight.” He warned you.

“No, I won’t kill her. I’ll fucking destroy her.”

“Right. Calm down.” His voice was stern and had you not been so livid, it would have turned you on in an instant, “it’s not so clever now, is it? Sneaking away with other men. It’s not nice feeling such intense jealousy.”

It hit you that he truly had been doing it on purpose. He had let her crawl all over him, put her hands all over him - just to get back at you! You hadn’t seen Jack in weeks and you simply wanted to talk to him! How childish!

“I fucking hate you! You’re such an asshole!” You cried out, digging your fingers into your scalp as you tugged on your hair. You were so far gone into the red mist that it was beginning to feel difficult to leave it.

“You don’t hate me.” He stated plainly.

“Yes I fucking do! I definitely hate you right now!” You were red in the face.

“Is that so?” He cocked his head.

“YES!”

He was in front of you within and instant and his hands firmly gripped your waist, driving you backwards until the back of your knees hit your bed. You toppled backwards and his lips were on yours.

This dream was nothing but calmness. A warm water up to your waist. It rippled around you as you walked forwards with no problem. You were in nothing, and neither was he as he outstretched his hand. You were soon in his embrace, chests connecting as he tilted your head up to look at him. He held you close, freely falling back into water. It crashed over you, but you did not need to hold your breath, nor feel as though you would drown. Your hands moved to his face as you sunk further down, a darkness slowly overcoming you both. His lips came into yours and a warmth spread throughout you. His hands dug into your waist, pulling you close. Your legs automatically wrapped around him.

Coming out from the dream, you were panting, a string connecting yours and Dracula’s lips. You were now in the same position that you had been in in the dream - legs around his waist, hands on his face, his hands still firmly on your waist. It had calmed you down. Only a little. But it has definitely worked.

His eyes glossed over you and lifted you up a little, to undo the ribbon at the back of your necklace. He gently pulled it away , using his other hand to force your head up so that he could get a good look at your scar.

“Jealousy is a wonderful colour on you. I don’t think I’ve ever been so turned on so quickly in my 524 years.” He purred.

“You’re an asshole.” You breathed. On the outside, your body was calming down from the rage, but mentally, you were fuming still.

His mouth came down, tongue working on the beautiful mark he had made. You moaned out, fingers lacing into his hair at the contact. You wondered if this mark would feel the same if someone else kissed it? Or was it like werewolf lore, in which you were marked and connection by your mate with it was a nerve straight to your heat?

Either way, your body immediately lit up at the contact. You pressed a messy kiss to his cheek in response, breath hitching every time his tongue worked on the scar. Pulses were shooting through your body.

Dracula pulled away for a moment, kneeling up between your legs as he pulled them from his waist. His hands travelled down your left leg, fingers soon having the clasp of your shoe undone and gently pulling it away.

“I can’t believe you threw your shoe at her. I planned on keeping them on you.” He sighed.

“What do you know, Count Dracula has a thing for fucking girls in heels.” You teased with a roll of your eyes.

He began to chuckle and your hands worked at his jacket. You pushed it down his broad shoulders and he helped you pull it away from his arms. You laughed at the sight of him. His dress trousers were tight on his waist, accentuating his waist and you began to laugh harder. He was looking down at you with an unreadable expression. Most likely out of habit, his chest was rising and falling, straining against the shirt. His hair was a little disheveled.

“What is it?” He smirked.

“You look like you’re about to go and do the samba on Striclty!” You chuckled.

“At least someone is feeling better.” He smirked.

“Oh, I’m still fucking livid with you. I’m just taking the piss to keep myself calm.” You chuckled.

“Then maybe you want to take some of your frustration out on me, my darling?”

Using the material of his shirt, you pulled him back on to you, attacking his neck with kisses. He sighed at the feeling. Your warmth was spreading through him and all he wanted was to get you out of that dress.

“I need to tell you something,” you mumbled over his skin, your fingers now working at the buttons on his shirt.

“Yes, my darling?” His hands were running up and down your sides.

“I may,” a kiss, “or may not,” another kiss, “have forgotten,” another kiss and you pulled away to look up into his eyes with a faux innocence, “to put on any panties before we left.”

At your words, an animalistic growl tumbled through his chest like thunder.

“Fuck.” His hands stopped your own from undoing any more buttons and he pulled the material over his head in one swift movement, “you dirty fucking thing.”

You mewled. You’d never get used to way profanities spilled from his lips. You loved it. A rush went straight to your core. He came down once more, attacking your neck with kisses and working down to your collar bone. His hands grazed over your breats, still covered by the soft material of your dress. While he was busy, your fingers began work on the buttons of his trousers. When he had finally kicked them off, you pushed him up so that you could sit up a little.

“I should lock the door and leave you in here for the rest of night. And tie you up for good measure.” You whispered, paraphrasing him from the first time you had done this.

“Do you really think I’m not strong enough to break anything you attempt to bind me with?” He grumbled, moving to kiss your neck again. You stopped him.

“I want to try something.” A look of wickedness set in your eyes.

“What is it?”

“Go sit.”

He decided to listen to your command, making himself comfortable at the head of your bed. Within the next moment, you were straddling him. Your dress had ridden up your thighs. Dracula’s cool hands grazed up to the material.

“Can I?” He asked softly.

“You don’t need permission, Drac. Use me however you wish. Do whatever you want.”

He groaned at your words. With one fluid movement, the dress was off and you were straddling him, completely bare. He sucked in a breath at the sight of you. Chest a little flushed, nipples already perked up for him, legs over his, your hot core not quite touching him.

“Shit.” He whispered, “what do you want to do, darling?”

“Has anyone ever ridden your thigh before?” You sighed back, willing yourself to be still. There was something else that you were interested in riding, however, you knew that you couldn’t. You wondered if he’d every tell you why.

“I don’t think they have, no.” He sounded like all of the breath had been stolen from him.

“First time for everything.”

You shrugged and then manuvered both him and yourself so that you were straddling his left thigh, but you still did not make contact. His hands moved down your body, making sure to quickly give both of your nipples attention before resting on your hips. Your pussy was already drooling. How, he had no clue. He had barely touched you.

“Do I turn you on that much?” He chuckled.

“No, anger does.”

And you sunk down. Dracula watched the way you threw your head back, biting your lip as you help back your whimper at the feeling. You had only done this once before, and with with your ex. His thighs had never been too big and it had been a little uncomfortable for you. Dracula however... sweet Jesus. Such an expanse of muscle, thick and hard like other things, you suspected. His coolness spread over you and you wiggled your hips to get used to the feeling. You didn’t think you ever would.

“Move.” He suddenly commanded, voice dark. You dare not disobey, rolling your hips slowly against his thigh. The friction was enough, sending little jolts through your clit. Within a matter of minutes, your juices were covering most of the front side of his thigh, dripping down on to the bedsheets that hadn’t been changed since you were seventeen. Pink with white hearts. So mature.

He was enchanted. He couldn’t believe he’d struck absolute gold. The way you moved against him, the heat you were providing had him hissing. He was straining against his boxers, but he was too busy watching every minuscule movement of your body to care.

Your hands flew to his shoulders to stabilise yourself and you quickened your pace. Pleasure was building with the constant friction and you gasped when Dracula decided to flex his thigh beneath you. Your hands slipped, head rolling onto his shoulder and he had to grip your hips tightly, guiding your movements. You were trembling with the sudden build of pleasure and your hands moved down his firm front, coming to rest on his bulge. You smirked, biting lightly on his shoulder as one hand slipped beneath the waistband.

His girth was heavy in your hand, the only part of him other than his mouth that was hot. Your fingers couldn’t quite reach all the way around and you wondered if he was scared of hurting and if that was why he wouldn’t just fuck you into oblivion.

“[First]-“ he cut himself off when your thumb ran over his slit, collecting the few beads of precum that had collected. He groaned.

“You were saying?” You began pressing soft kisses against his shoulder. He flexed his thigh in response, a horrid tremble racking over your body and you sighed into his shoulder. His fingers were going to leave bruises. You were certain of it.

“You don’t have to.” His own head lolled back to rest on the highest metal bar of your bed frame.

“I want to.”

Your hand began to slowly pump his length, which was most definitely proportionate to his 6’4” tall body. Just feeling him in your hand had a hot wave of your slick dribbling down his thigh. You were going to cum. He knew this, too, slipping one of his hands down between your legs to help stimulate your clit a little more. The extra coolness, the firm, quick circles he drew had your body trembling as your orgasm washed over you. You kept your hand on his cock, loving the heat and the feel of it. When you had rode your orgasm out, you removed your hand and peered up at him.

He groaned at the look of you. Cheeks pink, eyes blown with the utter horniness you were currently in the midst of, lips parted and plumped from all of the kisses.

“Drac,” you began, in a quiet purr, “I need to taste you.”

“No.” He breathed sharply.

“Why not?” You repositioned yourself on him, purposefully connecting your core to the bulge in his underwear. Your hands flew around his neck, the utter feeling of it making you shakily moan. Your slick began to soack through the material.

“Because...” he began, “fucking shit.” You kept moving lightly, loving the way it felt. He gripped your hips once more, holding you in place, “stop.” He groaned.

“Drac, I need you. So badly. You can’t keep denying me when all my body craves is you.”

Oh, his heart. Of course, all he wanted was to pin you down beneath him and fuck you so hard that you forgot your own name. He had driven himself crazy thinking of all the things he wanted to do to you. He’d given himself all sorts of grief wondering how well you’d fit together, stretching you out, feeling you take him like how you took his fingers. There was just one problem.

“I can’t,” he looked over your face, clearly upset himself at having to deny you something you both wanted, “I’ll be honest...” he took a breath.

“Tell me.”

“The last thing you want inside of you is undead sperm, darling.” He whispered, catching your neck in a kiss.

“Why is that? Surely it’s all the same?” Your body was beginning to ache for more.

“It’ll kill you, [First]. Either way it goes in, that’s it.”

“But you... Lucy...”

“Do you really think I cared if she lived?” He looked up at you, “I love you, [First]. I want no part in hurting you. Ever.”

“Then I just won’t swallow.”

Another groan left his lips. Had he known you were such a fox in the bedroom, he may have thought twice before falling utterly head over heels for you. What on Earth was he going to do with you?

You managed to get out of his grasp, pushing yourself backwards, simultaneously curling your fingers around the waistband of his boxers and tugging. He lifted his hips, knowing that you were going to be stubborn on this. His member sprang free, hitting his somach as it did so. Now, it was your turn to eye him up greedily. Once his boxers had met the fate of the rest of the clothes in the bedroom, you lowered yourself down to all fours to assess your options. Your mouth quite literally dropped in surprise. Dracula chuckled.

“Have you finally realised that you may be a little too big for your boots?” He teased.

“Jesus Christ, Drac, you’re too big for my damn boots.”

He burst into laughter.

Seriously, how the hell were you meant to do this?! You knew he’d be hung, because, well, he was so tall! And broad! But you didn’t expect him to be so...

“What is it? Like six inches?”

“Why would I know something like that? It’s not like I go around... measuring. But since you asked so nicely, seven and a half.”

“Typical man. You all need to know your dick sizes, don’t you? What do you do, compare in the bathroom?” You chuckled.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the stereotype that women congregate in bathrooms together?”

“Yeah but guys are obsessed with their cocks.” You rolled your eyes.

Before he could get another word out, you had suddenly moved forwards, licking a long, slow stripe from the base of his shaft and to the top. Hot and heavy on your tongue, you hummed, letting the vibrations rack through him. He gasped. You smirked, running your tongue over the tip, collecting a little more precum.

“Promise me you’ll stop before I release.”

You nodded.

“Wait,” you peered up at him, “can’t we just use a condom?”

“Absolutely not.” He answers sternly, “I’m most definitely only fucking you with nothing between us. I want to fill you up with my children, watch you overflow with my seed, bulge with my offspring. There’s no way in hell that I will do with any such thing preventing me from doing so.” His eyes darkened considerably as he spoke, dick twitching at the thought of fucking you full of his cum. You felt your juices spill from your cunt, between your thighs.

“You kinky motherfucker.”

His moan ripped through the room as you sucked him into your mouth, tongue swirling over his tip. Your jaw immediately ached with the stretch of accommodating him. You couldn’t help but giggle at his response to your mouth, the feeling of your laugh heightening the sudden pleasure.

He gazed down at you, unable to conceive that this moment was his reality. Locking eyes, you sucked more of him into your mouth, and whatever you couldn’t fit, you used your hands. Slowly, wanting to savour him, you began bobbing your head up and down. In all honesty, you were surprised he could even get hard, considering he had no pulse and no way for the blood to course his veins. His taste was pretty much the same as any other in the world. Salty, the bitter taste of his precum silencing the taste of the skin. But, because it was him, it was just a little more of an enjoyable taste.

Your tongue worked as your head bobbed and his fingers soon found their way tangling in your hair. He was wasting no time in controlling the pace and the depth of your movements. Slowly but surely, he was forcing your down more. Noises of his absolute and pure pleasure filled the room and your stomach was flipping. You were soaked and then some, feeling your juices almost flowing down your legs. You needed something on your core. Anything.

“You can take it,” he groaned, talking about his entire length down your throat.

You probably could. You’d definitely taken bigger during your post-breakup hookups. But you were still pissed at him. So you pulled off, coughing just a little to make it seem as though you truly couldn’t. He gazed at you.

“I’ve had enough.” You stated stoically.

“[First]?”

Truth be told, he panicked. Had he pushed you too far? You stood, facing away from the bed to let your grin of pure evil break out on to your features. Dracula was momentarily frozen in shock. He couldn’t believe he’d just-... his eyes caught your reflection in your TV and he suddenly grew just a little angry again.

You moved towards your dresser, leaning against it as you looked down at the wood, inspecting the groves. He picked himself up, prowling towards you. You gasped when his hands tugged at your hair, pulling your head backwards. He was looking down at you.

“Bitch.”

The sound of his hand connecting with your ass filled the room (and most likely the hallway, too), and you squeaked, arching your back more. He watched the way his smack rippled through your flesh.

“I wasn’t finished.” His mouth moved to your neck as his hand kneaded where he had just hit. He bit down hard on your scar, and you arched your back further, ass knocking into his dick. He hissed, “hand. Now.”

You offered him your hand and he lead it to his length. His other hand fell from your hair and moved to grasp your breast, pinching your nipple hard. Guiding your hand, he helped you to pleasure him and you turned in his arms, sinking to your knees. Taking both of your hands, you batted him away and leaned to drool all over the tip which was now blushing violently. He was close. Good. Wrapping your fingers tightly around him, you quickened your pace and he had to arch over you, gripping the edge of the dresser just to try and keep himself calm. As much as he had wanted these intimate moments to be sweet and loving, there was something in the anger that made this nasty, utterly fithy version feel phenomenal.

“Shit.” He growled through gritted teeth.

He twitched between your palms and you tipped your head back.

“What happens if it touches skin?” You inquired softly, slowing your movements for a moment.

“Nothing-“ he gasped, “don’t- don’t stop.”

His own voice stuttered and immediately, you picked up the pace. Oh, the growl that came from him as his hot seed shot out, soaking your chest in a sticky substance. It ignited your skin, a moan rippling from your own throat at the feeling of being covered in his cum.

When the strands stopped, and he began to grow flaccid in your hands, he took a step back to admire you. His seed was slowly seeping down your chest, over your breats, over your stomach.

With no hesitation, he picked you up and threw you back on to the bed, quickly settling between your legs.

“What a good little thing you’ve been for me. Look at you,” he meant your cunt, of course. You were soaked. Your legs gleamed with your juices, “all for me?”

“Every last drop.”

“Let me repay my debt.”

Your fingers balled the sheets the second his tongue darted out, trialling the taste of you. He groaned and went straight back for seconds. He lapped up your juices, circling your clit before moving back down towards the source of the sweetness coating his tongue. Thank god he read that book Lucy sent him on how much sex had changed, otherwise he would have never known bliss like his head being between your legs.

The feeling of his hot tongue giving your core much needed attention had you crying out. It didn’t matter that your parents were downstairs, or that Jack was most likely still here. Fuck them. You had a vampire eating you out like he was starving.

Your hands once again found their way to his hair and your hips began to move on their own accord. It had been so long since you had been in this situation, and the Count was most definitely outdoing every other person before him. He was devouring your cunt like a starving man and holy shit, nothing could ever amount to this. Your hips were quite literally jerking at the pleasure taking over your body.

Dracula’s hands moved to cup your ass and pulled you closer, prompting your legs to wrap around his head and hold him there. It only took a few more flicks of his tongue, a few more sucks on your clit before you let go, body trembling as your pussy contracted over nothing. More of your juices spilled and Dracula wasn’t quite done with you yet.

The hungry look he gave you when your legs finally released him had you rolling your head. You couldn’t go again. Your stomach was knotting.

He slid two fingers in with ease and the feeling of finally being full was enough for years to begin to stream down your face. The pleasure was growing too intense for your body to handle, but it seemed Dracula didn’t care anymore.

“I can’t-“ you panted, “I can’t go again.”

“Yes you can. You’re going to cum all over my fingers and prove to me who owns you.”

He began to thrust his fingers, loving the lewd sounds that filled the room. Your knuckles had turned white, your fingers curled. He was loving every second. His cum was drying on your chest now, becoming more visible as it stopped glistening. However, the sheen of sweat on your body gave you a heavenly glow.

Here you were, on the end of his fingers, eyes rolled back with the pleasure he was giving to you and you still managed to look like an angel. He breathed an amused sigh.

Your hips were grinding down into his fingers, you were spilling over his hand. Never had he met anyone quite like you... Who got this turned on by a vampire?

“Let’s see if I can just...” he trailed off, and when he pulled his fingers back, he inserted a third. The stretch didn’t burn due to the amount of lubrication you had created between your juices and his saliva. Instead, you felt even more pleasure, the stretch satisfying every thirst you’d had since... well, as long as you could remember being into the man currently using you.

“Drac-“ you whined through your tears, “please-!”

Though you weren’t explicit, Dracula knew your body all too well and bent down to press sweet and tantalising kisses to your clit. You whined, grinding onto his face and onto his fingers. Your stomach was burning with an ache of the overstimulation now and the orgasm that was building was going to be intense, you knew it.

Once again, his tongue worked on your clit and huge sparks of electricity coursed your body. His pumps grew faster and he widened the space between his fingers to stretch you even further. Your pussy was throbbing to release. It was so close. You squeezed your eyes shut, moans growing louder and higher.

“Holy shIT-!”

He pulled away as he felt a gush overcome his fingers. You clamped over his fingers so tightly as the most intense wave of pleasure came over you. He watched, mouth agape as the fluid squirted out, soaking the sheets below. Dracula held a smirk on his face. Your body convulsed as your orgasm continued to wash over you and a little more fluid gushed out. When you went limp, panting heavily, Dracula pulled his fingers out and couldn’t help but want to try the newest substance to come from your body.

It coated his tongue and...

“Well, now that’s better than blood.”

You laughed at his words, but the tightening of your stomach due to overstimulation made you “ow.” The realisation hit you that you had literally screamed down the entire house as Dracula had mouth and finger fucked you and you continued to laugh despite the intense pain in your gut. Dracula moves to your side, curling into you and laughing into your neck.

Breakfast was going to be awkward as fuck.

~^taglist in the reblog sorry^~

[anncanta]

Hierogamy: Dracula BBC and the myth about Kora-Persephone

Today I would like to talk about the mythological drama in the series Dracula and some of its aspects, without which, it seems to me, the perception of this text will remain incomplete, and the understanding will not be as deep as it deserves.

But first, perhaps, it is worth saying a few words about why it seems to me that it is so significant to consider the mythological drama in a work of fiction in general and in Dracula in particular. Isn't it enough just to look or read, perceiving the text as it is, and not going into the study of some complex deep layers? Sometimes it's enough. But more often – no, it isn't. The answer to the question of why so lies in the very nature of a story and the art of storytelling.

The mythological drama is never fully developed in the text at the formal level, although there is where it precisely can be seen. This seems to be a contradiction just at first glance: the drama (in its original ancient Greek meaning) is a kind of ‘deep development’ underlying all events and scenes. It is like a labyrinth, a skeleton, a matrix on which the rest is built and grows.

That is, why is it important to look ‘from here’? For the same reason that it was important for Jonathan Harker in the film to find a map: in order, firstly, to understand how the castle is arranged (and therefore Dracula himself), to relate himself to it in a certain way – and to get out of its boundaries, that is, to include the castle in a wider context, which will allow the character to find freedom.

Finding freedom, in this case, should be understood quite literally – as going beyond the limits of restrictions and, as Dracula and Jonathan each correctly note in their own way, – a look from above.

This view has many advantages, but the main thing is the ability to perceive what was seen in its integrity.

Because in a good story, ‘how’ is always ‘about what’, so if you don't understand ‘how’ or ‘for what’, or even ‘what it was’ in general, most likely you haven't read the text, and it remained for you something like a set of colored spots on the wall, beautiful or annoying, but – as researchers of the brain and psyche never tire of reminding, – in the absence of a ‘key’ such thing does not exist as the story itself.

It is not at all necessary, by the way, should be a mythological or psychological, archetypal, or fairy-tale ‘key’. Or all at once. At one stage or another in life, each viewer and reader needs their own set of the ‘keys’ or a specific one. First of all, it is the literal sense of the story at the plot level. But without a ‘key’ at all – there is no text. At least because the text itself, as a phenomenon consisting of – whether linguistic, pictorial, or auditory – signs, is a key – to our ability to imagine things that do not exist ‘in reality’, and to ideas, images, and meanings.

But back to the text.

In Dracula, the mythological drama is present at all levels, and there are no parts, ideas, or interactions between characters in any moment of the film where it would not be important in one way or another.

We will not consider all aspects in which the mythological context directly manifested itself, as it will take too much time. Let's see just one – the one that is the main motive of the film and somehow creates the main plot collision, and with it – the metaphor and essence of the story itself.

And this is the motive of hierogamy.

Hierogamy as a concept can be considered in two aspects. The first is mythological, in which it represents the name, description, and modeling in the ritual a sacred marriage (from the Greek ιερός γάμος, Latin hieros gamos) of the god and goddess, and the second is alchemical (archetypal), denoting the combination of male and female principles in the process of creating a philosopher's stone.

Hierogamy in one way or another includes a sexual context, in the sense that it puts at the center of the event and experiences ‘connection’ and ‘dissolution of boundaries’ to create a single one that will be greater than the sum of its parts.

In Dracula, both of these aspects are present and can be recognized from the very first minutes.

We will not go into details, just list a few examples.

The most obvious and conspicuous is Dracula's castle as the fruit of love between Petruvio and his wife (whose portraits hang side by side on one of the floors and, as we learn later, are the ‘entrance’ to the mystery of the castle and its structure, and at the same time – the ‘exit’ to the outside world), Jonathan as the bride of Dracula, thanks to the interaction with which the Count is able to leave his ‘prison without locks’, the connection of Mina and the remnants of Jonathan on the verge of space separated by the sacred bread, allowing Dracula to penetrate inside and give rise to a new interaction of the male and female, and so on.

But the fun begins to happen in the second episode.

Given as a prototype, a form and a plot configuration, the mythological drama of hierogamy has so far been satisfied with literal images of heroes and disclosure at the level of the plot. It was difficult to suspect something more in it than a direct (allegorical) depiction of mental and emotional processes. But in the second episode, a new layer appears in this story. Or rather, it stops hiding.

It's so simple, so obvious and so cheeky frank that when you watch it for the first time, you miss it in an attempt to follow the plot. And only by the end of the episode you do guess that you should follow something else.

Yes, we do not yet know – and we have nowhere to find out – that the action of the prologue of the second episode takes place on the same ship, which will become the stage for the internal and external drama, but the style and images, the very structure of the situation, gradually suggest what will be discussed here.

And it will be the drama of Kora-Persephone.

Let me briefly recall the content of the underlying ancient Greek myth about Kora, Hades, and Demeter.

The daughter of the goddess of fertility Demeter, Kora, attracted the attention of the ruler of the underworld, the god Hades, and he kidnapped her, taking her to him, to the lands of the dead. There Kora spent some time, communicating quite closely with Hades, after which she begged him to let her go to the ‘upper world’ for a while so that she could see her mother, whom she was terribly longing for. Hades fulfilled Kora's request, but on the condition that she would return, and gave the girl several pomegranate seeds for the journey. During her stay in the kingdom of Hades, Kora refused to eat anything, so by the time she received the gift she was very hungry, and therefore, soon after she found herself on earth, she ate the seeds. And since the pomegranate is the fruit of Hades and the symbol of marriage, this made her return to Hades a must. Meanwhile, in the ‘upper world’ fields and plants ceased to bear fruit, and eternal winter came, as Kora's mother, Demeter, mad with grief and longing for her daughter, turned away from people and nature. Zeus found a solution to the problem. He decreed that Persephone (that was the name of the goddess who had ceased to be a girl) should spend six months on Olympus, that is, with her mother, and six months – in the kingdom of Hades, now her husband.

Thus, the myth, on the one hand, describes in the language of an archaic worldview the logic of the changing seasons (Persephone on Olympus – Demeter rejoices, spring and summer come on earth, Persephone in the kingdom of Hades – Demeter suffers, autumn and winter come on earth), and from the other, represents the mystery cycle of successive transformations of a girl into a woman and the unification of male and female in sacred marriage.

Let's see how this mystery cycle unfolds in the film – on a formal and substantive level.

The ship on which Dracula sails to England is called Demeter. In the center of the plot of the episode are the abduction of a virgin (a nun is by definition a virgin, if not physically, then symbolically) and the interaction of the hero with her on a ‘lower’, deep level. Lower, in the sense – detached from the everyday, visible to everyone, taking place in the light of universal attention and perception.

The hero who kidnapped the virgin (by the way, we have no doubt that he kidnapped her, from the very beginning – just do not know how exactly it happened; and therefore our desire to follow them closely is so intense) does not completely belong to the world of the living, although he does not belong to the world of the dead either. He seems to live on the border, not being part of either of these two realities. So that no one has any doubts about who he represents, let us recall that Hades was not always associated with death among the Greeks, and was never considered the master of hell and a synonym for death and destruction. He created a kingdom for himself, which he called by his name, in order to live away from everyone. And only later did he become the ruler of the world of the dead.

Obviously, the description of Dracula's life in the castle refers to the reality of Hades in the underworld, largely parodying it. Because, although Hades is the king of shadows, he is still a king, and his kingdom is real. Whereas Dracula lives, in fact, in a dump filled with bad memories and rotting broken dolls, locked in the boxes.

But Hades also kidnapped Persephone, not on great terms.

Both stories, the mythological one, and the story told in the film, lead us to the fact that the hero (the masculinity, the organizing principle) for completeness and development lacks a partner, another view of the same world, a beloved-opposite.

Dracula finds her at the gates of the convent and, according to the logic of the mythological drama, drags her to him. There is an interesting moment: hardly, having captured Agatha, Dracula went with her immediately to the ship. Most likely, he first brought her to his home, that is, to the castle, and only after that, when the time came, he sent her to Demeter. So, their interaction began in the castle, in the literal realm of the dead, and continued on a ship in the middle of the sea, in a transitional space, in a space of changes. This fully corresponds to the myth of the transformation of Hades, who has gone from voluntary loneliness to becoming a king in the world of the dead, where everything is indefinite, mobile, unsteady and although it does not change in the sense in which it happens on earth, it represents the idea of ​​change as it is.

Everything is possible in the space of changes, therefore, here the most important thing for the whole film takes place, and that will give the story an impulse to move forward and being resolved in the form, which we see in the third episode.

Let's turn now to Agatha's story.

On the ship, she travels in the role of Kora – at first, abducted and held in the ‘underworld’ and not realizing her position (Hades, let me remind you, having kidnapped Kora, did not immediately make her his wife, and she was sort of his guest – until the moment when she persuaded him to let her go to earth to see her mother), and then – in fact, the mistress of this very kingdom.

Why mistress? It is rather difficult to answer this question. But there are details in the text that give hints and, on close examination, leave no room for double interpretation.

The simplest and most obvious is the physical location of the characters in the frame. They are on an equal footing, both in the center, and although Agatha is shorter than Dracula, she is as ‘in her place’ as he is and feels just as confident.

The second is how they communicate. In addition to the fact that the dialogue, the beginning of which we see in the prologue of the episode, is quite friendly and mutual (no one hangs over anyone, does not threaten anyone, and does not try to pressure – for those who have forgotten what it looks like, there is the final conversation in the convent), Agatha's position is read from the phrases thrown by Dracula in passing, but very eloquent. Such as ‘You choose’ – in response to the question of who will play black and who will play white. And this is only the upper layer of interaction, there are more of them, and on each one, it is acutely felt that here Agatha is not a prisoner, but a partner.

You might say, – of course, this is all part of an insidious plan to keep Agatha in the dark, and no real courtesy (not to mention real respect and closeness) is out of the question. Dracula is just playing with his victim. But this is the essence of the story and what happens on Demeter, as well as in the space of the original drama. Hades kidnaps Persephone as something alien, beautiful, and unfamiliar, something that attracted his attention in the distant upper world and that, like a fruitful grain, fell into his dark hermetic kingdom and ignited the spark of life in it.

Hierogamy and everything that precedes it is a mutual process, otherwise it makes no sense.

But then a moment comes in the story, which in the mythological drama corresponds to the stage of the earth, empty due to the grief of Demeter and the despair of Kora, yearning for the upper world.

On the ship, which has lost most of the passengers and half of the crew, because of Dracula's appetite, tension grows, and in the same way, it grows inside Agatha, who despite her quite comfortable position, begins to realize that something is wrong here.

Internal and external tensions converge at one point – on both sides of the doors of cabin number nine. And when the doors open, the mythological drama comes to the surface.

Interestingly, the story here does not even try to hide what it really is – from a detective in Agatha Christie's style, turning into a mystery action. Moreover, it directly admits it – when Dracula invites passengers and crew members of the ship to cabin number nine and brings them to Agatha's bed, he opens the curtain.

But what is going to happen here?

Let's see what the situation is in terms of structure.

The hero, who for a long period of time keeps a woman abducted by him from the ‘upper’ world, alien to him, experiences the invasion of this very world and is forced to present this woman to those around him and somehow explain her presence in this place and their relationship. Let us recall that the relationship between Kora and Hades also remained ‘unnoticed’ for the time being, or rather, until the moment when its uncertainty began to create problems.

Let's forget for a while about the individual needs and questions of passengers and crew – the important thing here is that all the ‘inhabitants’ of the ship demand to explain what is happening and to open cabin number nine.

Demeter demands Kora to her. She does not agree to put up with the current situation and calls Hades to account.

What remains for the hero? He, as in the Greek myth, acts with cunning: in this case, in the film, he tells the story that the woman lying in (his) bed is a murderer, the terrible eater of people whom passengers and crew have been unsuccessfully looking for throughout travels.

Dracula is trying to explain Agatha's presence here and now, on this ship and in these circumstances – not only to deflect suspicions from himself, but also to structure the situation in which they find themselves – not so much because he wants it, but because that he has no other choice.

What happens on deck is a logical consequence of his decision. Brought to light Kora is no longer the same as before – having visited the kingdom of Hades and entered into a close relationship with him, she can no longer remain a girl and just a daughter of her mother. Her innocence is left in the arms of the lord of the underworld. And since he really does not intend to let her go, all that remains for him is to make their relationship ‘legal’.

The hanging scene, entirely built on the interaction of Agatha, Dracula, and the ‘choir’ consisting of the crew of the ship and passengers, looks like another erotic at the same time (after the first scene in the convent), in which Agatha again from above and again largely dictates conditions, – and as a kind of coronation scene.

But not only the one.

There are so many meanings in this scene, and they are so closely intertwined and interconnected, that in order to see them all, you should carefully examine it – slowly, gradually.

First, Agatha is placed on a barrel and a noose is thrown around her neck, intending to execute her.

It would seem, what does Hades' marriage to Persephone have to do with it?

According to ancient pagan beliefs, the remnants of which are also preserved in Christianity, the bride, who left her home and married the fiancé, was considered dying for her previous life and being born for a new one.

Not everyone on the ship agrees that an unfamiliar and barely breathing woman is indeed guilty of the murders on the Demeter, and a dispute erupts between the judges hungry for justice. Among others, the captain speaks out and says that the woman standing on the barrel is the wife of the mysterious Mr. Balaur, who paid generously for her transportation in cabin number nine, without attracting unnecessary attention.

The word ‘wife’ is important. Firstly, because Dracula (Hades) still knows more than Agatha (Kora), even if he did not fully formulate it for himself. And secondly, because in the mythological reality in which the characters undoubtedly are, words matter. Let us recall that events still take place in a transitional space in the midst of changing and constantly moving waters. In this reality, what is not uttered is not defined. What is not shown does not exist. (I don't think I need to explain to anyone that cabin number nine is Schrödinger's box.) Thus, the one who utters the word determines this reality.

In the noise that arose after the recognition of the captain, most of the spoken words are lost, but two of them are heard clearly and turn out to be the main ones. This is the word ‘bride’, declared as a negation, and ‘wife’ disputed by no one.

At the plot level, this is just a confusion, a skirmish of frightened and distrustful people, but at the symbolic level, everything is clear and logical.

First, the bride announced that she is not the one (‘I'm not Balaur's bride!’).

Second, another person declared publicly that she was the wife of Mr. Balaur. Who, in turn, is nothing more than a mask, a pseudonym for Dracula. This is not enough for marriage, you say. Yes, sure. At the plot level, no doubt. But the characters are in symbolic space. And here, in this space, it is important who utters these words.

The captain pronounces them – a person who, by his position, is the master on the ship, who has the right to judge and resolve disputes, the right to execute and pardon, and – to seal marriages.

But this is not enough either. There are almost no coincidences in such texts. It was not in vain that I mentioned that the word ‘wife’ was not disputed. A mythological drama is being played out before us, but it is being played out in a nineteenth-century setting. Therefore, for a legal marriage, another formula becomes significant.

‘And if there is anyone among us who knows the reason why this marriage should not be contracted, let's tell now or be silent forever.’

Then one final touch is missing to complete the ceremony.

The moment when Agatha asks who has the courage to knock over the barrel and hears Dracula's answer: ‘Me,’ on a metaphorical level, ‘closes’ the frame of the ritual action.

The fiancé approaches the bride and makes a movement to ‘end the game’ – literally to kill Agatha, and symbolically, to complete her transition from bride status to wife status. Here even blood is present as an attribute of the loss of virginity, even though, in this case, the bride has long since said goodbye to it. But we are talking about the symbolic aspect of what is happening.

Let's not forget, however, that the lord of the underworld kidnapped Kora-Persephone and involved her in marriage without her direct and informed consent (more on this later). Therefore, Agatha's actions, when she spits blood in Dracula's face, literally designed to reveal his vampire nature for everyone, symbolically signify the resistance of Kora-Persephone and the desire to escape from her husband. But some things, having started, are quite difficult to stop, so Dracula still knocks over the barrel. Having successfully landed surrounded by ‘guests’ at the wedding, Agatha survives. But on a symbolic level, her death was not the goal. The goal was to physically separate one part of her life from another. This is exactly what happened.

Thus, we can conclude that after the end of the second episode, we are no longer facing Kora, but Persephone – the queen of the underworld.

But, as in the myth, Persephone at this stage is still the point of intersection of the conflicts of several characters. This is Hades, who wants her to return to him from the upper world, Demeter, who does not think to retreat, and... Persephone, who needs to deal with herself and who she is now, and how she will continue to be.

At the mythological level, it is the conflict that will become central in the third episode.

In the myth, at the request of Persephone and Demeter, Hades released Persephone to the upper world, giving her (some sources say – forcing to eat, but this is unlikely since it does not correspond to the function of that types of objects in myths and fairy tales) several pomegranate seeds... It was because of this that Persephone, having eaten them already on earth, was forced to return back to the underworld.

Do you remember what happens in the third episode?

Zoe van Helsing (a doctor, who, by profession, every day deals with the reality of both the ‘upper’ and ‘lower’ worlds, and exists and works on their border) – who can be considered a kind of ‘earthly’ incarnation of Agatha, Persephone from ‘upper world’, meets Dracula, whom she did not think to meet. By her own admission, she never really believed that Dracula would be found. And Dracula, seeing that his ‘wife’ does not remember him and does not want to return, gives her his blood and offers to ‘read’ it – if Zoe guesses how to do it.

That is, you understand – he does not directly offer her to drink his blood. He only gives her what she wants. Just like in the myth.

Zoe is a researcher, and besides the fact that she may have hoped that Dracula's blood would somehow help her recover from a fatal disease, she probably really wanted to know the secret of vampire blood, as any real scientist, inquisitive and hungry for knowledge.

Now let's turn to myth again. Persephone ate the pomegranate seeds that Hades gave her because she was hungry because she refused food all the time she was with him.

By the way, these seeds originated from drops of Dionysus blood.

The connection of Dionysian ecstasy, wine, blood, intoxication, and the processes occurring at the level of the ‘lower world’ – the world of the corporeal and the unconscious, is spoken directly in the text several times, but I think there is no need to dwell on this here.

After that, it is not surprising that the symbolism of the field appears here, – in the middle of which Zoe finds herself after drinking Dracula's blood. If in the second episode Demeter was present as a ship, a womb, a mother, carrying the potential of the future and protecting her child, then in the third she appears before us as a fertile layer, a bed, giving Agatha-Zoe-Persephone her blessing and, thus, the opportunity to complete the transformation and become a full-fledged spouse of her husband, at the same time, keeping the connection with the mother on a new level.

All this allows the story to unfold in the finale in a mysterious – alchemical context.

The fact is that the cult of fertility, the cult of Kora-Persephone, presumably formed the basis of the Eleusinian mysteries, mythology, and philosophy of which greatly influenced the views of medieval Western European alchemists. From here comes the similarity and continuity of images, ideas, and descriptions of processes, a close, often inherited metaphor, and, in a certain sense, an underlying common myth.

As the screenwriters themselves remind in one of the interviews, Dracula is a story of resurrection. So there is nothing surprising in the fact that in the finale of the third episode and the entire film, the mythological motive of Kora-Persephone and the alchemical one – coniunctio oppositorum* – are combined in one hierogamy.

This is openly stated in the text as well. In one of the last scenes of the series, Dracula says, addressing everyone present at once, and indirectly to the viewer: ‘Journey's end. Lovers meeting.’ This is a literal description of the alchemical stage of the union of the masculine and feminine principles.

Therefore, in the final scene, he and Agatha are making love – at the level of the plot, this is due to the development of their relationship as individuals, as a man and a woman, but at the symbolic level this is because the opposites they represent have reached a state where they can merge to give the beginning of a new one.

It is important to remember here what the story is constantly showing visually: there is what is happening on the ‘outer’ plane and what is on the ‘inner’ plane. The space of the film is constantly divided into two levels-states: Dracula's castle and the monastery, the monastery and the area in front of the monastery gates; what is happening in Agatha's workshop and the same thing – recorded in Dracula's blood and played in Zoe's head, Dracula and Agatha, lying on the table in Dracula's apartment, and Dracula and Agatha together in a golden light.

Let me remind you again: a real myth, an archetypal drama, very rarely unfolds in front of the viewer or reader directly, told in literal, poster language. Most often they turn out to be ‘wrapped’, embedded in the shell of a legend, parable, or fairy tale. In this sense, nothing has changed since the time of the ancient Greeks. The basic narrative structures are the same. How, perhaps, we all remained the same. Therefore, stories like this work. Therefore, they are important.

And also – because they are all-conquering beautiful.

* Сoniunctio oppositorum (Latin) – the combination of opposites. One of the key stages of alchemical Work.

P. S. In conclusion, I would like to show a few symbolic images from alchemical treatises. I will not show the corresponding scenes from the film – I think you yourself will recognize them. The first two illustrations are prints from the Splendor Solis, the third – from the Rosarium philosophorum.

[ibelieveinharrystyles]

Chapter Four: Loverboy

Always Golden Masterlist

TW: Contains brief descriptions of violence

February was a miserable month, Ashley longed for warmth, she longed for the warmth of the sun, she longed for the warmth of Harry’s hug. She sat at her desk in the Capital offices, twiddling her thumbs. “You bored?” Roman asked, popping up out of nowhere, “No, you’re lovesick.”

“I haven’t seen him in two months,” Ashley told him, “And as much as I love you as a friend Ro, it’s a bit shit spending Valentine’s Day here.

“Why don’t you head off early then?” He asked.

“I can’t, we’re on air for another two hours.” She sighed.

“I’ll cover for you, you did it for me when I came back from Australia and jetlag got the better of me.” Roman assured her, “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them you felt sick.”

“Roman you’re a bloody angel.” Ashley smiled, she knew Harry was at the BBC, so contacted the one person she knew she could count on, “Grimmy! How’s it going?”

“It’s too early for this, you know I don’t wake up this early anymore, only sociopaths do that.” Nick mumbled.

“I need your help,” Ashley told him.

“You’re having Harry’s baby?” He cried.

“No, definitely not, but I need your help to get into the BBC.”

“So you’ve decided to leave the dark side?” He replied.

“No, Harry’s doing something on Radio 2 this morning, I haven’t seen him since Christmas, I wanted to surprise him.” Ashley explained.

“I think my life was easier when you two despised each other, the sexual tension between you two does me no favours.” Nick laughed, “Any how, I’ll call the front desk and tell them you’re coming in, take the back entrance as there’ll be lots of fans, and go get your man.”

“Oh Nick thank you so much, love you lots.”

“That’s too much affection for one day, I’m off to bed for another five hours.”

The BBC was impressive, Ashley never got used to the sheer scale of it, the colossal glass building towered above her, she discreetly passed the fans, not wanting to cause a scene. On her way there she had been texting Charlotte, Harry’s pianist as she was giving her regular updates on what was going on. She reached the back entrance with no qualms, a member of security waiting for her eagerly, “Ashley Hanson?” He asked.

“Yep, that's me,” she smiled, showing him her ID as he handed her a security pass, “He still doesn’t know I’m coming does he?” 

“He’s got no clue, they’re just performing their second song, I’ll take you to the viewing gallery where the producers are, you’ll be able to see him, but he can’t see you.” He led Ashley into the dimly lit room full of control panels and several members of the production team, Harry was strumming away on his guitar while singing one of her favourite songs, her dad used to play it during the summer before he got seriously ill. She’d lie with Harry under the big tree in his garden as her dad cut the grass, the two of them would sing the lyrics on repeat until their voices became hoarse. As he finished the show came off air and it was time for the late morning show, she made her way to the green room where the band would return to once they’d finished, texting Charlotte to ask her to make an excuse for Harry to go by himself. She sat on one of the dark leather sofas, until the door pushed open and Harry stood there, a massive grin plastered across his face.

“Not bad loverboy, not bad at all.” Ashley smiled, standing up to greet him.

“What are you doing here?” Harry grinned, wrapping his arms around her and nestling his head in the crook of her neck. 

“You know me, Styles, element of surprise and all that.”

“It’s a bloody good surprise though love, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you until this evening.” Harry replied, his arms still wrapped around her waist.

“About that, it seems that every babysitter in the UK has plans tonight, but we have the rest of the day together.” Ashley explained.

“I can cancel, we can have a quiet night in.” Harry replied.

“Honestly it’s fine H, you go and meet the others, I’ll have a night in with Daisy.” Harry had originally asked Ashley to come for dinner with him and some of his closest friends.

“But once we’ve had our day together, you can come and pick her up from nursery with me if you like, she’s been talking about you non stop since Christmas.” 

“I’d love that,” Harry whispered, pecking her lips softly.

After strenuous decision making both Ashley and Harry agreed that a take away at her house was the best option, the press would have a field day if they were seen out together on Valentine’s Day. sticking to their northern routes the pair settled on pie and mash. Having never seen her new house before Harry was beyond impressed with how homely it felt, there was so much of Ashley’s personality in every room, from the pink neon light in the kitchen, to the wall of polaroids she took every time someone new visited the flat. “How come Niall’s on here?” Harry asked, examining the polaroids while she poured them both a cup of tea.

“You aren’t jealous are you Haz?” She giggled.

“I didn’t say that.” Harry huffed.

“Your face did,” She teased, “I’m messing, he came round last summer for a picnic with Daisy, but then it rained so we had one indoors instead.”

“Do you take all the members of One Direction on picnics?” Harry asked.

“Only the pretty ones.” Ashley joked.

“Ash, can I ask you something?” Harry asked as they stood in the playground, alongside other parents, waiting for Daisy.

“Depends what it is.” Ashley smiled, wary of the other parents around them.

“Do you want to come to the Brits with me next week? I was going to ask Gem, but I want you there too.” 

“I’m afraid I’m busy on Tuesday,” Ashley sighed, “I’m presenting an award at the Brits.” 

“No way!” Harry grinned.

“I’m doing it with Niall actually.” Ashley explained.

“That’s incredible love, I’m so proud of you,” He smiled, squeezing her hand. 

“Mummy!” Daisy interrupted their tender moment, running straight into Ashley’s arms.

“Hello monkey, have you been a good girl today?” Ashley asked.

“I’m always good mummy.” Daisy smiled.

“Look who came with me to pick you up bubs.”

“Harry!” Daisy exclaimed, lurching towards his arms, he took hold of her bouncing her in his arms, “I made you a card today Harry.”

“Did you petal?” Daisy handed him a pink piece of card decorated with lots of glitter and hearts, “It’s lovely, thank you Dais, I’ll put it on my shelf when I get home.” Harry told her softly.

“Mummy, can we take Harry to the donut shop?” Daisy asked, fluttering her eyelashes, “Pretty please.”

“Harry’s a busy boy my sweet, you’ll have to ask him that.” Ashley told her.

“I’d love to go for donuts with you petal.” Harry replied. 

It was the late evening, donuts had been eaten and enjoyed, Daisy had insisted on taking a picture of Harry for the wall and now she was curled up, watching Moana with Ashley. Harry had left for his dinner engagement, even though he insisted he could cancel. Eventually Ashley decided to put Daisy to bed, as a late night wasn’t going to do her any favours, as she pulled the bedroom door shut her phone began buzzing frantically, she opened it to see several missed calls from an unknown number, “Hello?” she said when she called it back.

“Hello, is that Ashley Hanson?”

“Speaking.”

“Would you be able to come down to Hackney police station please? I’m afraid your friend has been the victim of an attempted mugging.” The police officer explained.

“Is it Harry?” Ashley whispered as her voice wobbled.

“I’m sorry, I can’t give sensitive information like that on the phone.” Ashley hung up immediately, calling Lou and practically begging her to come round and look after Daisy, to which she agreed.

Ashley ran and ran until her legs stung with pain, the police station was a good twenty minute walk from her house, but she was too scared to wait for a bus, the heavy rain didn’t do her any favours, splashing down onto her skin as she continued to sprint to the station. As she arrived she saw Harry leaving, he looked as pale as a sheet, tears filled her eyes when she saw him, she fell to the ground in tears in front of him, “Hey, love, it’s alright, I’m fine.” Harry whispered, stroking her hair as he crouched beside her, holding her in his arms.

“This is all my fault H, I should’ve come with you for dinner, I could’ve stopped this.” She sobbed.

“Ash, one of them had a knife, neither of us would’ve been able to do anything.” Harry assured her.

“When they called me I was terrified I’d lost you, stay with me Harry, don’t ever let me go.” Ashley told him.

“Always Ash, I promise.”

***

It was the day of the Brits, for the first time since the attack Harry had gone back to his house, he had been staying with Ashley since it happened, because she was terrified something could happen to him again. But they both needed to get ready for the awards, and for that they both needed their own space, Ashley had called upon Lou and Lottie to help her get ready, she figured it made sense seeing how well she knew them. Daisy was being looked after by Lou’s sister at Lou’s house, making the whole process somewhat more bearable. “Well it looks like you’re all done, shall we get you into that dress?” Lou remarked, the dress was a mission and a half to put on. Although she was only presenting an award she wanted to prove that she was there from her own doing, not because she was just Harry’s plus one. 

The skirt spanned further than she expected, but again it was worth it, “Will I do?” Ashley asked as she entered the kitchen.

“I mean if Harry doesn’t get down on one knee, I definitely will,” Lottie smiled, helping Ashley with any last touch ups.

As her car pulled up at the red carpet Ashley began feeling sick to the bottom of her stomach. She’d never had to do a red carpet before, especially one as prestigious as the brits. The driver opened the door and she was met with waves of excited screams, she assumed they thought Harry was sat with her, but even when they realised he wasn’t, their screams remained loud. She took her place walking along the red carpet, allowing each photographer to blind her with the flash of their cameras. As she left she bumped into Niall who was catching up with some old mates, “Ash! look at you! You look incredible!” Niall exclaimed, greeting her with a hug, “I’m going to look underdressed presenting this award with you.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself Horan,” She smiled, “I suppose this is your first time presenting too, seeing as you boys have always been on the receiving end.” 

The awards were in full swing and thankfully Ashley and Niall’s award had been the first one, meaning she was able to fully let her hair down and enjoy the party. “Hello stranger, you up for a drink?” she felt Harry’s familiar warm hands on her shoulders as he whispered to her, she stood up and followed him over to the bar, away from prying eyes. “Love you look phenomenal.” He grinned, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

“I could say the same about you, and your performance was incredible, you smashed it as always.” Ashley told him, “I matched the dress to your bow tie deliberately.”

“I guessed so,” Harry smiled.

“When’s your interview?” Ashley asked.

“I’d say it’s about half an hour or so.”

“You can do a lot in half an hour.” Ashley whispered.

Harry glanced up at her, “You mean? Here?” 

“You’ve got a dressing room don’t you?” Ashley replied.

“Yeah.” Harry smirked.

“Well then, we best get a move on.” Ashley took hold of his hand, pulling him towards the backstage area.

Their lips were interlocked as soon as Harry fling the door open, kicking it shut and locking it before they made their way towards the tiny couch. Harry continued to place delicate kisses on Ashley’s collarbone, “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this H.” Ashley whispered.

“Oh trust me, I do.” Harry replied, trying to undo the back of her dress, “Did you have to wear such a hefty dress?” Harry chuckled, fumbling with the buttons that lined her spine.

“I heard you loved a challenge, it took you long enough to make a move on me.” Ashley whispered, peppering Harry’s jaw with kisses, “Besides, you’re bad enough with this daft bow tie, how’d you expect me to take that off?” 

“All part of the challenge princess, all part of the challenge,” Harry muttered, sliding the straps of Ashley’s dress down past her shoulders, the sheer weight of the skirt pulling it to the floor, leaving her body bare. 

“If you’re wanting round two when we get home, you're going to love my after party dress.” Ashley grinned.

“Why’s that?” 

“It’s a lot smaller than this one.” Ashley proceeded to unbutton Harry’s shirt as he removed his blazer and tie, until his torso was exposed, the tattoos Ashley once dreamt of, there in front of her. She proceeded to trace her fingers over his famous butterfly tattoo as her lips found his again. Harry lifted her from her dress that sat at her ankles and moved her so that her unclothed back was against the cold dressing room wall. 

“Where did you two get to earlier then? Jack was about to interview Gemma instead, you literally made it with seconds to spare.” Roman asked, it was the Brits after party and the music was booming. Harry and Ashley had just about composed themselves after their fleeting dressing room rendezvous. Harry raised his eyebrows at Roman as he took a sip of his complimentary drink.

Gemma glanced between Ashley and Harry, “Fuck sake Harry, at the brits? Really? Actually I don’t want to know.” Gemma said uncomfortably.

“Ro, shall we go get some more drinks?” Ashley suggested, unable to look Gemma in the eye. They made their way through crowds of people, over to the bar, “So you and Harry at the brits huh?” Roman asked as they ordered another round.

“Are we really going to go on about this all night?” Ashley sighed.

“I knew how you felt about each other, I just didn’t think you’d get down to business at the brits.” Roman replied.

“Make it sound seedy, why don’t you?” As they returned to Gemma and Harry, she noticed they were joined by someone else, someone she recognised as Kendall. She’d only met Kendall a couple of times, and safe to say she didn’t think much of her. Harry used to invite Ashley out to America over the summer when she was at college and they’d spend all day together, until Kendall invited herself over and Ashley was simply the third wheel.

“You know Harry has a girlfriend now,” Gemma smiled, making polite conversation with Kendall.

“Really? who is she?” Kendall replied.

“That’d be me.” Ashley stated, handing Harry his drink and placing a kiss on his cheek as he rested his hand on her back that was now exposed thanks to her new white after party dress. Roman and Harry shot knowing glances at each other, impressed by Ashley’s brazen confidence.

“You? I certainly didn’t see that one coming.” Kendall replied. 

“It’s funny how life works out isn’t it?” Ashley remarked, sipping on her cocktail. 

“Truly, I should probably head off, it’s fashion week and I’ve got to be up early tomorrow.” She smiled, “See you soon Harry.” She moved to kiss him on the cheek as he swerved her advance. 

“Fucking hell Ash, I’ve never seen you like that, I have to say, I’m impressed.” Roman said once Kendall had left the group.

“I can’t help it,”  Ashley smirked “I played third wheel to those two for too long.” 

“You’re cute when you get territorial.” Harry grinned, kissing the top of her head.

“You’re just cute in general.” Ashley replied.

[stevenuniversetanzanite]

Fallen Angel (Venable X reader) Part 5

Michael's character might be inconsistent in this chapter if so I'll fix it later.

Also, don't hate me too much, I have a plan with this story.

Prequel Link: The Angel Among Us (Cordelia x reader) Plot: The event’s leading up to Y/N joining Michael and the Cooperative.

Summary/idea: Two strangers come to ‘save’ the occupants of outpost 3. Neither are what they seem.

Warnings: N/A

Parts: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 , Part 4, Part 5 (Will add as I go)

The two of you wound up tangled in her bed. No words shared just gentle touches of hands brushing over bare skin. A black nightgown discarded on the floor. You held her close, her head rested on your chest. Most would have thought it would have been the other way around, you wouldn't complain, you won the girl- at least for now. Venable was like a sour candy, bitter at first but once you get to understand her, sweet. You hoped the lolly wasn't expired.

Before you'd found yourself, you posed her a question, "What next?"

"We take our places for ourselves."

You had no clue what she had in mind. Was this the time to tell her there was nowhere else to go? The sanctuary is destroyed and everywhere else had been contaminated with radiation. This was the sanctuary.

You could take this woman away from here and leave Michael to have this fun with the other. You had no debt to him or his father. The reason you'd joined him was because you sought the truth. You had your answers, you only stuck with them because you never found the remaining witches before the bombs went off. The witches lived on- well at least two did. There was no place to take her, you'd been exiled from your former home and hell wouldn't go so well either nowadays. Anywhere on earth would be contaminated so she wouldn't be able to go outside without a hazmat suit. The former sanctuary could be revived, steal one of the apples you'd brought from the garden, but that would take time. She'd require food for which you can't supply.

"Sounds like fun," you attempted to sound happy, but the sadness came through. "You're probably still tired, I accidentally woke you."

"I could say the same."

"Yeah, sorry, again."

"No need to apologise, we both made a fool of ourselves today."

"I should let you get back to... bed" You shuffled towards the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Venable asked.

"Bed?" Venable raised her brow. "The generator room."

"That won't do at all."

"It won't? Got a better idea in mind?" You smirked.

"One or two."

"Do tell." You crept closer to the woman until you were close enough where you were forced to look down at her. "Does this idea involve me in less clothing by any chance?"

"It could."

"Are you going to keep me wondering or are you going to tell me?" Venable stared at you not saying anything. "Ms Venable?" Venable gulped and fought against the urge to shrink down and into herself. "Mina?"

"Yes," she croaked out. "I... don't-" Oh god, was she going to admit this to you? It's so embarrassing. What were you going to think of her when she told you? You'd probably have been with a lot of people and yet you were her first. "I haven't- Um, had intercourse before-" or even a relationship if that's what you would even call this.

"Okay and?"

"Isn't that shocking to you?"

"Not really, I kind of guessed that would be the case," you answered. "You outlawed sex; red flag number one. You appear generally uncomfortable any time I pursue you or get close to. Your distaste for connecting to people or building an emotional connection and the fact that the act involves some form of connection whether it be a fling or long-term thing. Also your fear of people seeing your back would most likely stop you or at least you'd keep a shirt on. Need I go on?"

"Please don't"

"You also have to keep in mind that won't be the weirdest thing. You would be fucking the devil's sister."

"-And Michael's aunt. Oh god I forgot about that. I thought you two were a thing"

"Eww~"

"Only briefly. It was the first rational conclusion I came up with. It didn't help that in the beginning you didn't appear to do much, other than annoy the man."

"I think I'm going to be sick" you covered your mouth. Freezing then you had a lightbulb moment. "That's it. That's it!" Venable waited for you to continue. "We make them all sick."

The plan was simple to create an event based around some holiday, Halloween as an example and tell them that it was this weekend. The two of you would poison the supply of apples you and Michael brought with you with snake venom and feed it to the unsuspecting residents.

You'd put your plan in motion tomorrow, for tonight it was just you two. You wouldn't move an inch in fear that you'd lose her. Death followed you like the plague. Divinity doesn't come without it's consequences and yours was being unable to among the living for long. You pulled Venable closer, holding her tighter. She hummed, bemused by your actions.

"Y/n? Are you still awake?" Venable asked.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

Venable sat up, you frowned as she escaped your grip. She spun around to face you. A look of worry etched on her face. You scanned her face. You sat yourself up, pulling yourself out from underneath the redhead and gathered your clothes.

"Where are you going?"

"We need to by ourselves some time." You kept your head lowered as you dressed yourself. Venable made no attempt to stop you. A part of her forgot she was mobile enough to stall you.

"What's your plan? Think whatever you're going to do though first-"

"What I do is none of your concern," you snapped. She was taken aback. You fidgeted about as you gathered the last of your belongings. Your hands shook as you tied up your shoes. You thought about apologising, nothing came of that thought. "I'm going to see Michael-"

"No-"

"I'm buying us some time."

"H-how? What are you going to do?"

"No clue."

You closed the bedroom door behind you. Walking down the long hallway down with no plan. Your movements became less shaky. A tune played in your mind, you shut your eyes for a moment convincing yourself you were anywhere but in the last standing outpost on planet earth. The imaginary music blared, you could feel the buzz of the sub, the vibrations shaking the floor. In reality it was the power in the air from the few magic individuals. To be anywhere but here.

You loosened up, body slackened as you walked like a drunk man. For a moment you thought of hightailing it, there's probably a club in hell you could attend. No- chickening out wasn't an option. Unfortunately. You halt immediately, your eyes flung open, your nephew stood half a metre away.

"You seem to be having fun."

"I am, Mikey. Don't be a buzzkill," you responded in your usual ditzy way.

"You seem to be getting close to the outpost leader." No shit sherlock. You already knew that... right? God, I don't remember anymore. He should know, you made it blatantly obvious.

"Hmm. Want something?"

"I want your answer to my question"

"What question, you never asked one?"

"Whose side are you on?" That's right, you thought. It had been some time since you'd been 'blessed' by the man's presence. Since the checkup with Venable and you were forced against the wall and choked you'd stayed away from your nephew.

You leaned in close to the man and whispered, "my own." You straightened up and moved past him, brushing shoulders.

"We'll see how long that lasts."

"You will leave her alone or you'll face me. Got that?"

"Crystal clear."

You sat in the auditorium tuning a trumpet when Venable graced you with her presence.

"Beautiful," you mused. Venable caught what you had said and blushed deeply.

"Unlike your trumpet playing," she said. She sat down beside you resting her cane beside her. She was still using it to make Michael unaware of her being healed. She rested her hand on your knee. "What's with the trumpet?"

"It's the end times," you said, forgetting she wasn't as knowledgeable about the biblical telling of the end times.

"They don't correlate. I mean an instrument and the state of the world-"

"Not one for religion?"

"Not as much as you... clearly."

She assumed all it was bullshit that was until she'd met you. She didn't understand your rule in all this or if you had any relation to religion other than being the devil's sister. She'd have to do more research to come to her own conclusion.

"Wouldn't blame you. Most of it's bullshit written by men from minenila ago. I'll fill you in when we're out of here."

"The trumpet?"

"Oh yeah, sorry. An archangel is said to play it at the end of time."

"And you think that's you?"

"God no, but I like the instrument. I like it's my brother Michael-"

"I thought he was your nephew."

"Not that Michael. There's more than one."

"Not confusing at all."

"Human's do that too."

"I presume we got that from your kind."

"Don't know, maybe."

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Stupid question. That's like asking how many angels there are."

"Do you know the names of all of them?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not going to have to meet all of them, am I?"

"Don't want to have dinner with your future in-laws?" You said it as a joke but felt Venable tense up. "I was kidding V. You don't have to meet them-"

"It's not that. Do you see us two together-together in the future?" She didn't want to use the word 'married'.

"Yeah- unless you don't want that. I guess it would be hard seeing as I'm an angel and you're a human. It would be like a human dating the Doctor, mortals and immortals don't mix well even with my-"

"Doctor? Why couldn't a human date a doctor?"

"Not doctor....The Doctor. Doctor Who? BBC?" Venable looked confused. "God Mina, I'm forcing you to watch that later, I can't believe you haven't seen... oh wait your American, never mind. It wasn't important anyway." it also didn't help you've watched everything since the dawn of time. You'd say the same about any show.

"You're not american?"

"I'm not human, I can't be american... well animals can be American I guess- I'm not from earth so I can't be. I showed up somewhere in what's now Egypt when the land was still Pangea- at least I think it was Egypt."

"I keep forgetting how old you are."

"What can I say, those anti-aging creams work wonders." Venabe chuckled.

"Can you tell me a story from your past?"

All your stories ended the same. You alone, wandering the earth. A part of you assumed it was designed as punishment. All crumble away with time while you remain the same. Whomever you shared your life with will fade away too. The first human you befriended and the last. You left your imprint on the world as well as the people you associated with. What story to tell? One with a happy ending? if you could think of one. Your first interaction with a human, a similar looking woman to the one beside you, hair of fire, skin to pale for the beating sun of the desert you were both stranded in. You'd shown her a part of yourself you haven't shown anyone since. She left you in a bloody state, you left her worse. The kindness you showed her by healthing the damages she'd received by the dust storm (and other wounds) amped up until she'd beg you for death. That's what she deserved right? It took you eons to understand humans and every stowaway you had helped you more until you gave it all up for a taste of humanity, even if it was among witches.

Hours later, the two had retired back into Venable's room.

The selection where near completion. Michael was in his office going through his selections for the new world. He expected the company of the red-head soon. He had ordered one of the greys to fetch the woman as soon and have her come as soon as she was available.

She showed up half an hour later unamused. She addressed him by his last name as she did with everyone besides you.

"Ms Venbale, I'm glad you could make it."

"This better not be a waste of time, Mr Langdon, I was in the mix of some very important work."

Is that what she called you nowadays? Michael thought knowing just by looking at her she was with you prior to her arrival. "Then I won't keep you long. Please take a seat."

"I would rather not. If this is going to be as quick as you say it will be, I won't need to."

"Suit yourself."

"I've almost completed my selections."

"And?"

"I want you to join us... but only if you end things with Y/n."

"I will not"

"I only have one vacancy left... so it's you or her," Michael explained. "There can't be both of you. Keeping her around is a liability. It would be best if you get done with the breakup before Monday, I don't want any mess and we'll be expecting visitors." Visitors? Who the hell would be coming to the Outpost?

"And why do you think I would agree to this plan of yours?"

"She is not the woman you think she is, Ms Venable. There is more to her than either you or I can ever comprehend. As long as she is alive she is a threat. All you have to do is read any of the journals in the library and you'll see her for what she is. You may think she loves you but in a second she'd change tones. Especially by Monday night."

"What's Monday?"

"The guests will arrive."

"Who are these guests? Are they from the cooperative?" Venable asked, gripping the topper of her cane tightly. "How are they getting here?"

"No one you'd need to be concerned with... only Ms L/n's ex."

There was no way she could trust the man. He had been nothing but trouble since arrival. He had a point, she could ever truly know you. If you found out that your ex was still alive you'd go back . It was evident from the interactions from the beginning of your relationship that you weren't over her.

There was only one way to know about you, google you.

Venable never noticed it until now but she'd never the hum of the generator in the room next to the lab. You'd always been tinkering with it, but it's never made a sound. Is that regular? She'd never been in the room alone, either you were in there and you'd usher her out after a moment, or the door was locked.

She decided to test her luck today and tried the handle. The door glide open with ease. The room was pitch-black besides the glow of some sticker stuck on the back wall. You're doing, of course. She felt for the switch, once finding it flipping it. Nothing happened. Odd, she thought. She had her candle from when she was walking outside this section of the outpost. The auditorium lights didn't switch on either.

She made her way using her candlelight to the generator. It was off, rusted over and looked like it hadn't worked or been maintained in years. But you'd worked on it the other week. Something wasn't adding up. She tried to switch it on, hopping to hear a rubble but received nothing.

Venable sped to the computer room to test if there was any electricity in this place. The monitor light was on. She entered your name in the search bar. ERROR. She tried different variants of your name. ERROR. She slammed her fists into the desk, one hitting the keyboard. The screen blacked out. Crap. She cursed and tried to get something to appear. System reboot, the monitor said. The computer restarted itself. Venable's eyes were glued to the computer. Once the scene had light up, the language settings has shifted to default. They were the same ones she'd seen the first time when you set up the computer for her.

Blindly, she went back to the search engine. She typed out your name once more. The text entered shifted about, glitching in between the default language and another. The jumbled mess of letters appeared to spell out a place, Salem.

This was all bullshit, you must have done something to the computer along with the electricity, Venable thought. Jokingly she entered the name into the search, she got the typical (from what she could tell as it wasn't in English), the place, witch trials etc.

She scowled around some random sites until she heard a gasp from behind her.

"What are you doing?!" You snapped at her.

The red-head said nothing. She needed time to come up with an excuse. You tore her away from the computer, pushing the chair across the room and shut down the system.

"I was searching up about witches," she lied.

"No, you- you couldn't even read that-"

"What's the big deal Y/N? I wanted to know more about the stuff you talk about."

You clenched your fists, not bothering to turn around and look at the woman. "Get out."

"What?"

"GET OUT!" You spun around and roared at her. Sparks erupted out of the computer, leaving you unfazed.

You stared into her soul with your eyes fully dilated. Not just over the colour but the white of the eye. Your skin had paled down a couple shades giving you a ghastly appearance. Behind you, projected on to the wall was your silhouette, it mimicked you like a shadow but unlike you, it had wings.

Venable was stuck in place, trembling and not daring to look away for a second.

"Didn't you hear me missy?" you snarled. Her voice had a more demonic underlay. When she didn't respond you trudged up to her and pulled her up off the desk chair by her lapel of her blazer. She fought against her urge to quiver in your grip. "DON'T EVER use my technology to search me," the last part turned into a whisper.

You hadn't googled her and even if you had, she gave you permission when she first showed you the device. You had even suggested it. What had changed?

Venable grabbed you arm to try and push you away. Instant burning pain surged through her hand. She yelped and retracted her hand. You both immediately looked over to her hand. You dropped her instantly and backed away.

"I-I didn't mean to-" you stuttered out knowing your mistake instantly. Turning back to the monitor, you caught a glimpse of your ghastly reflection. "Please leave this room, you're not safe around me right now. I need to cool off."

Venable wanted to comfort you, but you made it clear not to and it was in her best interest not to aggravate you further.

You clenched your jaw, before smashing your fists into the mirror repeatedly.

She left you in that room to destroy whatever you saw fit. You were dangerous to be around, if she hadn't touched your icy skin who knows what would be of her. She hadn't searched you and yet you claimed she had. All she did was such up Salem, how was that connected to you other than witches? Where you there?

The skin that you'd touched began to deteriorate. The irritated skin bruised around the untouched areas as the rest turned to a nasty scablike wound. All in an hour, she'd found herself in the infirmary, wrapping the wound up with gauze.

"You screwed up, Y/n," Michael told you.

"I know that." Your body had yet to go back to normal no matter what you did to calm down. You teleported to Michael in hopes of his help and at worse a some snarky comments and 'I told you so's'.

"It's not so bad, now you can focus on the beginning of the world."

"Why am I here again? I got what I wanted out of this and I owe you nothing."

"You were bored and have nowhere to go."

"I could go back to heaven."

"As if they'd want you after the mess you've made."

"Hell."

"Do you want to go back there?"

"Not particular."

"Then where else would you go, besides I thought you were having fun. You enjoyed destroying the sanctuary-"

"That was my home long ago-"

"Didn't you enjoy watching it burn?"

"I want to see it burn again," you said. "Watch the waterfalls flow lava and the tree's goose blood instead of tree sap."

"Then do it. Nothing is stopping you from having your own hell on earth."

"But Mina-"

"Forget the woman Y/n, she's nothing to you. She's like all the others before her," Michael said. "You stole woman from there husbands and held them up in Eden, you were ruthless. Where has that woman gone?" He's gotten the story wrong, you didn't steal them, you saved them. "She's holding you back. Leave her and help bring a little more hell to earth."

"You're right. I'll do it," you said. He was pleased to hear that. "I'll do it this Sunday," a little less after that. "I need to... finish off Mina first."

"You can leave her to me-"

"You said to kill what 'it' wanted; I should be the one to do it." 'It' meaning the humanity in you.

"Don't take too long, the beginning of the new world can't wait any longer."

You and Venable made amends before the sunday. Both wary of the other but still going through with the previous plans of poisoning the members. Venable questioning whether to stick with you and go to the sanctuary with you or backstab you and go with Michael. You had to think about if you'd stay with Venable or find your own path void of her.

You hadn't gone back to your normal self. You decided to hide away from the others for the remainder of the week, only showing up on the Sunday night masquerade ball. Your outfit was an all black suit where the blazer with a train,paired with a black and gold belt you stole from Venable and your goldern devils mask.

The masks covered half your face, a black veil underneath to hide the rest of your discolouration skin. All skin was covered so you wouldn't harm anyone prematurely.

You stood above the music room looking down at all the unsuspecting survivors. Venable walked up behind you. You noticed she didn't have her cane with her.

"No cane?"

"No need to keep up appearances for the dead." You chuckled at her answer. "Soon it will just be us, we'll have the sanctuary all to ourselves."

"Yeah~" Venable noticed the uncertainty in your voice.

"What haven't you mentioned?"

"How do you now I haven't mentioned something?" You paused. "Oh, that's how." Your response gave you away.

"The sanctuary isn't real"

"What?"

"It was, but we destroyed it."

"Why? Y/N!" The woman took a step back.

"This is the last sustainable place left," you said not paying the woman to much mind. "We torched the place before we headed here. Those apples are from the oldest tree in existence. The one that caused the downfall of humankind."

"And we poisoned them."

"Yep."

"You killed humanity."

"You had no problem with it when you were told you were going to an outpost leader. You wanted to have a taste of power. Well you have and doesn't it taste good. The world is over. Humans are gone and you... well, you helped caused it." She was to blame as much as you were. "You'll be fine though. You got me and I'm not going to allow anything to happen to you." You smiled. "I'm going downstairs to keep up appearances. Can you get the two untainted apples? and then we can end this once and for all."

Venable nodded doing as asked. She headed to the kitchen to retereve the two apples. When she had her hands on them she paused. Michael was right, there was no snatuaray. The foundation for the two of you being there was destroyed. What was to make her believe that everything else you was saying was true too. You did have magic, there was no way you could fake what you did to her back, but the rest, how much of that was real? How about your feelings? Hers were but yours- if you were willing to lie to her, how could she know for sure?

With the wrong apple it would create a disaster.

Venable handed you an apple watching you remove your cover from your lower face, smile at her and take a bite of the apple. You gleam at her while chewing. "Well, aren't you going to eat?" Venable eyed you weirdly questioning if she gave you the right apple.

"I think we should save it, as a treat for victory."

"Well if that's the case then have some of mine."

"I couldn't possibly-"

"Oh, no, insist." You handed your apple over. "Unless you did something to mine." Venable stiffened. You covered your mouth and started coughing, dropping the apple on the ground. You hunched over, coughing with an earth shaking strength for your body.

"I can't be with you," Venable said.

"Why?" you croaked out. She doesn't respond. After a minute you straighten yourself up and dust yourself off. There was no hit of blood on you. "Oh, I know what you did. Might I say the poison gave it a nice taste." You stepped closer. "Who put you up to it? Michael?" The endearing look you used to give her faded away leaving a plain expression. You always wore emotion on your person, you looked vacant husk. It made you unpredictable. "You fool, he tricked you." You grew anctisy, "It's fine... I can work with this." You slipped off the gloves covering your hands and shoved them in your pockets. "Your just as dumb as he is, thinking that destroying the sanctuary was a good idea. He's still human, he too will be infected." You kept your undivided gaze with her. The inhuman part of your grew more evident by the second. The shadow from the computer room was back but this time had the same horns as your mask. "All humans will be dead. It's truly the end of time. I thought it would be different, God said it would be different. Guess he too couldn't give two craps about us. Hell if you read the old testament he was a bastard-" You rambled on, growing more irritated and manic by the moment.

Venable grew worried. She was frozen in place.

You retracted a blade from her sleeve and inched as close as you could.

"If I can't be with you then you don't serve a purpose." You shivved her. She grunted. You shushed her. "It's alright V, death ain't so bad." You eased her body to the ground, still clutching the knife in one of your hands. Once she was against the ground, you straddled her hips pushing the knife further into her. "All you had to do was pretend to like me and you would have been safe. I mean come on, how hard is it to do that? You humans can't make up your mind. You guys deserve to die." You added more pressure. You felt a presence at the door. Michael.

"Wasn't your toy to your liking?"

"Mickey, she didn't like me, what did I do wrong?" You ripped out the knife in one swift move. She cried out in pain.

"There will be plenty more for you in the new world."

"Your psychotic," Venable choked out.

"You're one to talk. You'll do well in hell, love. All those people you killed." You looked back to Michael. "Maybe I should go back to hell and look after this one?"

"But what about my partner in crime?"

"You got Mead."

"We'll find you, someone better, if not, she's not going anywhere." She wouldn't leave hell any time soon.

You stared down at Venable, watching the life drain from her eyes. "See you soon love." You leant down and placed a kiss on her forehead before her vision faded to black.

Don't worry there is at least one more chapter joining the two stories together. and it will have a happier ending. So don't worry that Venable was stabbed.

[tabloidtoc]

Globe, November 9

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Prince Andrew fails lie detector -- new crisis rocks the palace 

Page 2: Up Front & Personal -- Bruno Toniolo shirtless, Heidi Pratt at a pumpkin patch in L.A., Jacqueline Bisset catches some rays in L.A. 

Page 3: Larry David leaves an L.A. office, Ellen Pompeo, Pete Wentz 

Page 4: Kathie Lee Gifford is talking to NBC bigwigs about coming back to Today and they’re hot over the idea but Hoda Kotb is not pleased and Jenna Bush Hager is feeling threatened because Jenna never really grabbed the audience like Kathie Lee did, Martha Stewart and Gwyneth Paltrow are heading into the holidays trash-talking each other even more than usual and their pals have nowhere to hide -- they’re snippier than ever and can’t get through the week without saying something crass but the trouble is they have the same friends and they use some of the same chefs and caterers and crew -- all their friends in the Hamptons including the Seinfelds and Beyonce and Jay-Z and Billy Joel and Christie Brinkley and Rachael Ray are trying to keep out of it but it’s impossible because Martha and Gwyneth are both screaming for loyalty 

Page 5: Legal hotshot and writer Jeffrey Toobin has been shelved by the New Yorker magazine for showing off his willie to co-workers during a Zoom conference call -- witnesses say Toobin was masturbating but he insists it was a blooper

Page 6: Dolly Parton was so lovestruck when she met Elvis Presley that she nearly chucked her marriage and career to shack up with Elvis -- Dolly is ready to tell all about Elvis after decades of protecting her husband Carl Dean and Elvis’ only child Lisa Marie Presley -- Dolly was in her late 20s and Elvis was in his late 30s when they had their sizzling encounter where she got dolled up to meet Elvis in a Nashville office and discuss working together and he wanted to do a duet but she didn’t trust herself to work with him and she didn’t even let Elvis do a cover of her song I Will Always Love You -- even though Dolly didn’t actually cheat on Carl she sure was tempted and she’s felt guilty about it ever since 

Page 8: Just two weeks after splitting with his wife of 14 years former Home Improvement kid Zachery Ty Bryan was arrested and jailed on charges of trying to strangle a terrified galpal -- after a night of partying where he was photographed surrounded by four gals with an iced bottle of vodka at the table Zachery reportedly got into a heated clash with his galpal and she claims Zachery grabbed her by the throat and squeezed then tried to snatch her phone when she attempted to call 911 so she ran to a neighbor’s home where she hid while cops were called 

Page 9: Distressed Kelly Clarkson and her two toddlers are in therapy to help cope with the anguish brought on by her divorce from Brandon Blackstock -- the talk show host is especially struggling because the split is playing out so publicly and the kids are seeing things about their mom on TV and she feels immense guilt about the divorce but knows it was the best decision because she wasn’t happy married to Brandon though she did try but staying in a marriage just for the kids wasn’t an option for her -- Kelly was deeply wounded when her father-in-law Narvel Blackstock’s management company recently sued her for $1.4 million in alleged unpaid commissions but she’s speaking with her ex privately in an effort to resolve the issue out of court but Kelly suspects he’s using it as a bargaining chip for a bigger settlement and also feels he’s using the kids against her as a weapon 

Page 10: Showbiz legend Michelle Phillips has become a shut-in who sits home alone tippling wine while watching movies on TV and listening to her hits from The Mamas & the Papas where she is the last surviving member of the band -- she’s sad the rest are all gone  and she’ll put on a record and sit in the dark; she misses them and so many other people -- she’s become a shut-in due to the pandemic and can’t bear for people to see her so old and haggard and overweight and all those years of partying have done their damage to her once-beautiful face -- she also hasn’t been able to see her young grandson and she’s grieving the loss of her longtime lover who died in 2017 

Page 11: Baywatch hunk Jeremy Jackson’s cover girl ex-wife has been found homeless wandering California’s mean streets in worn and shabby clothes -- lost for two years Loni Willison is now virtually unrecognizable with missing teeth and her long blond tresses cropped short -- she was found pushing a grocery cart filled with her battered possessions in Venice -- despite her tragic situation she insists she’d doing fine and doesn’t want help despite reportedly having drug and mental health issues 

Page 12: Celebrity Buzz -- Rita Ora in a see-through frock (picture), Lily James got caught brazenly canoodling with the very much married Dominic West who plays her father in the BBC miniseries The Pursuit of Love, just weeks after Cardi B filed to dissolve her marriage to Offset she’s put the split on hold and all it took was Offset to spend bucks on a heart-tugging Sunset Strip billboard and a Rolls-Royce and a Hermes Birkin bag, Kate Hudson’s getting loose-lipped about gross snotty smooches with her leading man Matthew McConaughey 

Page 13: Vinny Guadagnino eating in Beverly Hills (picture), Kaitlyn Bristowe has a puffy trout pout (picture), Shia LaBeouf doesn’t let an apparent injury keep him from getting out and about in Pasadena (picture), Alanis Morissette says the fame that came with her 1995 revenge song You Oughta Know wasn’t so sweet but instead was an isolating experience 

Page 14: Nicole Kidman is starring opposite Hugh Grant in the thriller series The Undoing but she really wanted to plays Hugh’s love interest in Notting Hill except she wasn’t well-known enough, Reba McEntire has landed herself a brand new TV show which is a modernized Fried Green Tomatoes drama series in which she’ll play the present-day Idgie Threadgoode, Fashion Verdict -- Regina King 8/10, Isabelle Huppert 2/10, Queen Maxima 5/10, Tracee Ellis Ross 9/10, Cher 4/10 

Page 16: How John F. Kennedy stole the White House from Richard Nixon -- Chicago mob rigged the 1960 vote and cheated Nixon out of the presidency 

Page 19: True Crime 

Page 21: Parkinson’s patient Alan Alda is refusing to slow down at age 84 and friends fear the fragile M*A*S*H legend is headed for a devastating health crisis and he’s busier now than he ever was even during his sitcom days and he bravely says he lives with it by staying active but medication can only do so much and his friends and family including wife Arlene are worried he’s pushing himself too hard, teary-eyed Ringo Starr confesses his last conversation with dying Beatles bandmate George Harrison was heartbreaking and unforgettable -- Ringo wanted to stay with George until the end but his daughter Lee had been diagnosed with a brain tumor and Ringo had to rush to Boston to see her and when Ringo told George he had to go to Boston George said D’ya want me to come wit’ ya? so even on his death bed George made his best buddy smile while both faced unspeakable grief 

Page 22: 10 Things You Don’t Know About S. Epatha Merkerson, Today show host Hoda Kotb reveals Frank Sinatra Jr. was the show’s worst guest because he clammed up instead of touting a book about his famous dad in 2015, Khloe Kardashian confesses she once worked as Nicole Richie’s personal assistant because she just needed a job and they went to school together -- Nicole’s reality career crashed in 2007 which was the same year Khloe’s series started

Page 24: Cover Story -- Disgraced Prince Andrew has flunked a lie detector test on his close relationship with murdered American pedophile Jeffrey Epstein and now the rogue royal insists he’ll never cooperate with the FBI for fear his testimony will land him behind bars but Queen Elizabeth’s favorite son has his back against the wall as new evidence surfaces on both sides of the Atlantic -- Andrew is terrified newly released secret testimony from Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell is just the tip of the iceberg of what she’s prepared to reveal and Maxwell’s revelations detailing her twisted sex life come on the heels of an explosive new British book accusing Andrew of attending debauched events with Epstein where teenage girls were parading around topless -- even though friends close to Andrew say he did nothing wrong and has no reason to fear the prince may not have a choice about spilling his guts because the fed-up royal family is threatening to cut off the cash-strapped rogue unless he plays ball 

Page 25: Prince Andrew has been banished from the gift shop at his mother’s Balmoral Castle -- tourists can still purchase postcards her Her Majesty’s kids Prince Charles and Princess Anne and Prince Edward but Prince Andrew has disappeared which is a sure sign that Andrew is in the doghouse since items featuring Elizabeth’s beloved corgis are still up for sale 

Page 26: Health Report 

Page 27: Dirtiest places on planes exposed 

Page 30: Serial sleaze Matt Lauer’s ready to pop the question to girlfriend Shamin Abas over the holidays and he hopes for a brighter future with her a year after his 20-year marriage to Annette Roque ended in divorce -- Matt showers Shamin her with gifts and wants to buy a house on the East Coast where they can make new memories and Matt’s hinted he’s already bought the ring and plans to propose by New Year’s and he hopes to have a celeb-studded wedding at their new home, Kathleen Turner will be back at Michael Douglas’ throat as his acid ex in The Kominsky Method to fill the hole left by Alan Arkin who abruptly pulled out of the third and final season of the show

Page 35: Matthew McConaughey’s father predicted he’d die while making love to his wife and he did, desperate to turn back time Marie Osmond is going whole hog on a head-to-toe makeover -- Marie is no stranger to cosmetic fixes and she is considering a slew of procedures to get a new look that’ll knock ‘em out including everything from Botox and fillers to face-lift to boob job and lipo-sculpting to enhance her waistline -- the makeover is motivated by revenge because she’s bitter over recently being pushed off her co-host gig on The Talk and now she’s counting on a younger look to land her a plum new TV gig 

Page 38: Real Life Monsters 

Page 39: Kris Jenner blames social media for ending the 14-year run of Keeping Up with the Kardashians because when the show started there was no Instagram or Snapchat or other social media platforms but now she gripes that now there are so many the viewer doesn’t have to wait three or four months to see an episode but instead information spreads online in real time, Phil Collins’ ex-wife has traded him in for a 31-year-old guitarist who never managed to make much noise in the music industry -- Phil was furious when he heard Orianne Cevey married Tom Bates in Las Vegas, Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman died without a will according to his widow -- Taylor Simone Ledward filed a probate case in L.A. asking a judge to name her administrator of Boseman’s estimated $938,500 estate with limited authority

Page 44: Straight Talk -- Bruce Willis and Demi Moore’s daughter Rumer Willis claims posing for raunchy bondage shots proves she’s a liberated woman free from sexual stereotypes but it’s not that simple 

Page 45: Jeff Bridges is battling non-Hodgkin lymphoma which is a rampaging cancer that often spreads through the body to the liver and bone marrow and lungs -- while the cancer can be deadly experts say the five-year survival rate is 73 percent 

[taste-in-music]

My Favorite EPs of 2019

Big, splashy albums from the year are always fun to go over. However, I think it’s just as important to acknowledge the shorter, oftentimes debut projects from artists both big and small that get released in a year as well. So here we have it, my favorite EPs of 2019 in no particular order.

Human by dodie: dodie’s gone done it again and whispered her way right into my heart. Delivering not only her signature vulnerable songwriting and delicate, bordering-on-fragile vocals, she also mixes it up by bringing in some guest features and upbeat moments. “Monster” shines atop of a plucky groove of glassy synths, and other production elements, like swelling strings on “She” and rushing, almost ocean-like undercurrent present on the fantastic title track “Human” make this EP a consistent but also highly atmospheric listen. Now when are we going to get an album?

My Top Track: Human ft. Tom Walker

Sanctuary by Aly & AJ: In a year where the Jonas Brothers made their comeback, I was waiting on the edge of my seat for the public to finally acknowledge the fact that Aly & AJ had been back for a while were crafting some of the catchiest, most addictive synth-pop under the sun. While that didn’t happen, we still have this glorious EP to enjoy. “Church” is the personal standout for me, adorned in sparkling vocal layering and a shimmering drop that feels like diving into an icy cool pool. The rest of the EP delivers catchy tracks accented with glistening production that catapults the project up into the galaxy. 

My Top Track: Church

Perception EP by Joy Crookes: Y’all want to know why I procrastinate these lists for so long? It’s because I’m afraid that I’m going to overlook gems that I’ll regret not covering in the following year. This snuck in right under the wire, I didn’t hear this until a week or so ago when Joy Crookes was featured in BBC’s Sound of 2020 longlist. But boy am I sure glad I found out about her, because Joy Crookes is one of my favorite new finds of the year. Her performances on this EP are so smooth and self-assured, supported by chill R&B instrumentals that will flow through your mind with absolute ease. Also, she’s the first artist to use “skrt” in a song and have it work for me.

My Top Track: Hurts

Indigo by Erthlings: My favorite up-and-coming girl group has finally released their debut project, and I couldn’t be happier! This EP is a sweet little taste of indie pop awash in hazy guitars and gentle vocals. That doesn’t mean it’s all sugar-fluff though, there’s a snappy bass groove on “Bridges” and some spooky synths on “Cuts and Bruises” that provide variety.

My Top Track: Returning

Wild Wild Woman by Your Smith: Your Smith has made it onto this list for two years in a row, and for good reason. She takes the boppability (is that a word? I don’t care,) of last year’s Bad Habit and boosts it with a feeling of breeziness and spontaneity that is so refreshing on the ears. There’s something about the sound of this EP that makes me want to roll down the window of a car and drive through a desert, it’s that easygoing and smooth. 

My Top Track: In Between Plans

chapter 2 by girl in red: Here we have another artist that has made the list two years in a row! This EP is varied, with girl in red moving into territory that gets more tender, (”watch you sleep.”) raunchy (”bad idea!”) or even joyfully absurd, (”dead girl in the pool.”) Despite this variety, this EP is held together though Marie Ulven’s down-to-earth performances that make this project feel relatable and all too real.

My Top Track: watch you sleep.

Some Place Else by MorMor: MorMor’s music makes me feel like I’ve drifted off into the ether, it is the epitome of dreaminess. The instrumental and vocals perfectly balance woozy lilting melodies and grounded elements, such as textured drums or deeper guitars. Put this EP on if you want to forget all of your troubles and let the world pass you by, it’s absolutely blissful. 

My Top Track: Outside

Friends by Omar Apollo: I decided to give this EP a listen at the recommendation of a YouTuber I watch, (Alfo Media, you can check out his Omar Apollo video here. I also discovered Faye Webster through him.) This EP features a wide scope of eclectic sounds, from disco funk to bedroom pop ballads. I can safely say that there is a song on here for everybody. I played “So Good” in the car for my family when driving one time and literally everybody was bopping.

My Top Track: So Good

Talk You Down by Nightly: I was clicking through Spotify and this band popped right out of nowhere, and I’m so glad that I came across their music. They’ve got a similar energy to bands like WALK THE MOON and St. Lucia, playing vibrant electronic pop rock that puts you in a good mood. This EP is a sweet little slice of summery fun that will brighten your day in an instant.

My Top Track: Say Anything Else

you ruined new york city for me by FLETCHER: This EP saw a change in direction for FLETCHER’s sound, turning from the organic textures and dizzy-in-love sweetness of her Finding Fletcher EP (which I adore, by the way,) and moving into a moodier, more mature vibe. The best part of this EP, hands down, is FLETCHER’s performances. They’re so impassioned and effortless as they careen through the tales of heartbreak, she sells every song with her vocals. Also, “Undrunk” made it onto the Hot 100? I’m so proud!

My Top Track: All Love

Junk by Carlie Hanson: Ever since I fell in love with Carlie Hanson’s splash hit “Only One” early last year, I’ve been eagerly awaiting a debut project from her. After a slew of singles since then, Hanson returned with an EP that is a focused flurry of fresh sounding pop. Fun elements include the beat-boxing on the opening track “Bored with You” and the electric guitar that kicks the ever-addictive “Back in My Arms” into gear. I can’t wait to see what she brings to a longer project in the future.

My Top Track: Back In My Arms

Flashbacks & Fantasies by Ralph: How lucky are we that Ralph gave us an EP so quickly after her album? We truly aren’t worthy. This project is stuffed with fun, glittery pop hooks that’ll get you grooving in no time. Songs on this project range from hypnotic indie pop bops to dancefloor bangers that feel ripped right out of the 80s. 

My Top Track: No Muss No Fuss

Deadbeats by Willa: What a comeback this turned out to be! Willa’s turn to bright, fluorescent pop has been an absolute joy, featuring some of the catchiest hooks of the year. “Cause You Did” made it onto my favorite songs of the year list last year, and it still holds up. “Deadbeats” is one of my favorite pop songs of the year, the chorus is absolutely euphoric. Also, check out her Twitter and the thread she made of all the colors and textures she associates with each songs, she’s synesthetic so it’s really interesting to look through.

 My Top Track: Deadbeats

What were your favorite EPs of 2019? Did you listen to any of these EPs? Leave your recommendations and thoughts down below.

[yeonchi]

Kisekae Insights #7: Chapman Works (Fifi and Roary)

Believe it or not, the Kisekae Project was never just about combining Asian culture with Western culture. As such, anime isn’t the only thing that forms part of my project.

Fifi and the Flowertots is one of the earliest things that I adapted in my personal project, even before Doctor Who. When I was in my Dynasty Warriors phase, assigning warrior names to my friends and classmates, the characters of this series were some of the first fictional characters to be assigned warrior names or implemented in my stories. They had a heavy impact on Hiroki’s story before he came onto Doctor Who.

During the many times this series aired over 2005-2015, I never really got to watch it a lot, either because it never aired at the right time for me to be able to watch it, or because my parents would be watching their Chinese TV shows (I may have missed out on some parts of my childhood because of it). Therefore, watching this series became a bit of a guilty pleasure, especially considering that I was growing out of its target demographic. Luckily, thanks to the internet, that doesn’t matter anymore.

Its sister series, Roary the Racing Car, was also one of the first series to be implemented. Only the human characters were given officer names (because how can cars fight, just saying), but in Gokaiger, the cars were given an important role as well. A couple of characters also became Kamen Riders.

Here’s another thing that may surprise you; Fifi Forget-me-not was Hiroki Ichigo’s wife before Akari. In other words, Fifi was my first waifu. Let’s jump into the explanation.

A Flower out of the Garden: Fifi in the Parallax War

Fifi was the first of the Flowertots to end up in this world before the rest of them came in the Dimensional Merge. Their story differs between the two timelines, but out of the Flowertots, only Fifi lived through and remembered both timelines. During the first timeline, Fifi acted as the counterpart of Rose Tyler from BBC Doctor Who. The timeline splits in January 2007.

In August 2006, Fifi fell into a portal that looked like a puddle and ended up on Earth. Hiroki, who happened to be in the area, finds her and offers to help her get back home. On the way home, Hiroki and Fifi also encounter another girl from his province who fell asleep on the train back home and ended up where they were. Hiroki takes Fifi and the girl, who we’ll call Narutaki (it’ll be important when I cover Decade), back to his city. When they get back, however, Narutaki can’t get back home because her prefecture is being invaded. So, Fifi and Narutaki became Hiroki and Parker’s roommates. Hiroki and Fifi eventually fell in love and became a couple.

In the first timeline, where Hiroki and Fifi left Parker in the second timeline, Fifi met the Third Doctor when the department store she was working was infiltrated by Autons. Things went from there and the three were swept into the Parallax War. Fifi reunited with her friends as well. At one point, Fifi disappeared and the Doctor, with help from Hiroki, Buttercup, Daisy and Flutterby, managed to find her.

At some point, Fifi discovered that her great-grandparents were named Billy Alkanet and Jackie Fiddleneck. While Billy is dead in this universe, he was alive in a parallel one, namely Billy’s World. After the first couple of episodes of the Fourth Doctor’s first series, Narutaki went back home and her role was replaced by Jackie. At the end of that series, Hiroki, Fifi and Jackie were forced to go to Billy’s World because of “Void stuff”.

The Doctor had fallen in love with Fifi during their travels and so did she, to the point where Hiroki started to feel neglected. But after being sent to Billy’s World, Hiroki and Fifi rebuilt their relationship as they managed to leave that world and fight in the Parallax War. They would later get married as well.

At some point, they reunite with Narutaki and the Doctor. After the final battle, Hiroki, Fifi and Narutaki were de-aged a few years due to a gift from the gods or time paradoxes stabilising or something like that. As a result, the three were sent back in time to where the timeline split in order to live the years they missed. Narutaki went back home, leaving Hiroki and Fifi with Parker.

End of Innocence: Flowertots in the Time War

Now, Hiroki and Fifi are living in the second timeline. From Parker’s point of view, he is unaware that they had even gone anywhere. Hiroki and Fifi decide to keep their marriage a secret from everyone else in this timeline until they have a second wedding ceremony with them.

Soon after, the Flowertots come to Earth in the Dimensional Merge and Parker, Hiroki and Fifi go to visit them to the north of their city. Bumble sees Hiroki with Fifi and tries to fight him, but Parker and Fifi stop him. When the Flowertots are attacked by Parker and Hiroki’s comrades, they get scared and the three have to fend them off. Parker, Hiroki and Fifi decide to teach the Flowertots how to fight, eventually recruiting them in their army. Violet becomes enamoured with Parker and they eventually begin a relationship. Like Hiroki and Fifi before them, they get married as well.

On Christmas 2008, Fifi and Violet gift their husbands the swords that would signify their presence on the battlefield. In another universe, the swords were known as the Twin Moon Swords and they had three modes they could switch into by channelling the power of light or darkness into them. I realise that there are negative connotations with gifting swords, but given what happens next, you can say that it could be foreshadowing something as a result of the bad luck associated with it.

A couple of years later, a rebellion forced Parker’s army (and its parent army, their primary school army) to split, just as they were transitioning to secondary school. Parker had been planning to move his army to another province so they could still be together. When Parker and Hiroki were separated during their escape, Hiroki was found by the Flowertots, but they were defeated with only Hiroki managing to escape. They later made their way to where Parker intended to move his army, with their commander seemingly nowhere to be found.

Later, Hiroki officially joined his secondary school’s army while working with Parker to rebuild his army. Hiroki fell in love with Akari and at one point, Fifi saw them together and became heartbroken. When Parker’s army heads to assimilate the Flowertots with help from Hiroki’s new army, Fifi eventually confronts Akari with Parker, Hiroki and Narutaki and goes to fight her, but they stop when they get into a Mexican standoff. The Flowertots surrender and Hiroki and Parker reconcile with Fifi and Violet. However, following Parker’s death in October 2011, the Flowertots decide to go back to Flowertot Garden, at which point they were assimilated by the fairies of Never Land. Hiroki and Fifi never applied for a divorce and Hiroki would later begin a relationship with Akari.

So how do I explain Buttercup, Daisy and Flutterby? Well back then, the birth of new Flowertots was rare and it happened once every four years. Towards the end of Soulbound Series 1 (which I wrote in 2019), it would be revealed that Buttercup and Daisy were growing under the ground (in October 2007) and Flutterby offered to be their guardian. They were born the year after, but they fell through time and space and they didn’t show up in the second timeline until 2010 (before that, they were involved in the first timeline in 2009). Buttercup would idolise Hiroki for his heroism and skill.

Ever After: The Flowertots in Never Land

Some storylines in this section were inspired by two of EmmaKoeni’s crossover stories with the Tinker Bell movies, namely 2 Worlds, 2 Different people, 1 Mind and Bethany. Sadly, the latter one seems to have been abandoned, but I got enough out of it to write about what happened to the Flowertots after they went back.

There weren’t a lot of Flowertots in Flowertot Garden before they were assimilated by Never Land. Since then, Flowertot Garden prospered thanks to the help of the fairies. New Flowertots would arrive on babies’ first laughs at the pollen tree, their counterpart of the pixie dust tree. A Flowertot named Lillyana became the Queen of the Flowertots, but when she was exterminated by the Daleks, Daisy (yes, the same Daisy from the show) became Queen.

In August 2012, the Flowertots became aware of Antoni’s plan to detonate the Reality Bomb and Fifi was sent to find the Doctor and help him stop it. The science-talent fairies gave her a prototype Soul Talisman, similar to the item of the same name in Kingdom of Paradise, that would resurrect her if she were to be killed. However, because it was a prototype, the process would be similar to Time Lord regeneration. Another account I wrote, before the Never Land storyline came to be, was that Fifi got the Soul Talisman from the Torchwood Institute while hopping universes. While she did find the Doctor, however, she was shot by a Dalek and proceeded to regenerate, thanks to the power of that Soul Talisman.

However, Fifi’s use of the Soul Talisman did have a side effect. By October 2015, Fifi was diagnosed with ovarian cancer, but Fifi being Fifi, she forgot that name at some point. She was gifted a sonic screwdriver from someone who was revealed to be one of Hiroki’s echoes. Fifi met the Doctor and Hiroki for the last time, with the latter staying the night before she died. In my story, I had a plot where the fairies and Flowertots were segregated by a barrier at the border between Pixie Hollow and Flowertot Garden, which Hiroki destroys together with Fifi using their sonic screwdrivers.

Before Hiroki goes home, he realises why his future self gave Fifi a sonic screwdriver; because he saved her consciousness in a neural relay that he installed. With this, he rushes to Dewey’s library in the Winter Woods and uploads Fifi’s consciousness into a supercomputer, with an artificial version of himself and a male child to be with. Sure enough, an echo of Hiroki gives Fifi a sonic screwdriver.

As a result of his deeds during the Time War, Hiroki was revered as a legendary figure throughout Never Land. Soon after Fifi was uploaded to the supercomputer, she and Hiroki were revered as their gods. Hiroki stated that he would never come back to Never Land once he left, but little did he know that things would bring him back there in the future.

In the Series 9 finale, Violet led the Autons and the Never Land Army to Sekigahara, but they were held up by the Sanada Army, led by Ms Mimi, at Ueda Castle. As shown in The Pilot, they were forced to retreat when the Daleks attacked and exterminated their troops.

Protecting Smiles: Flowertots in the Moushouden Series

In Decade, Narutaki was on a mission to defeat Kamen Rider Decade, Hiroki, as she believed him to be “the destroyer of worlds”. She went to Never Land and gave Firerose, a male rose Flowertot, the Arcle with the intent to have him defeat Decade as Kamen Rider Kuuga. Later on, he joined Hiroki and his other companion on their travels.

They would also encounter a male lilac Flowertot, Lilimuro, who had left Never Land to explore the Mainland, but didn’t come back because he discovered a family being targeted by monsters with the father being incapacitated due to a condition. His appearance would be copied by Roidmude 006, who became the Blazer Roidmude and played a part in Narutaki’s plot to trigger the Global Freeze. His confrontation with Firerose would lead to his defeat when the latter unlocked his Ultimate Form and defeated him with the Ultimate Kick.

Violet would also leave Never Land to travel Earth because she got tired of Flowertot Garden no longer being the quiet place she knew before the Time War. She worked as a mechanic at Silverhatch Racetrack in Big Chris’ absence before joining the Kougami Foundation and becoming Kamen Rider Bravo. Later, thanks to her links with the Kougami Foundation, she established an army of Kurokage Troopers on Never Land as the fairies and Flowertots join Hiroki in ransacking the Citadel of Hirokis.

Roary the Racing Car

No, we didn’t forget those guys. It’s just that they didn’t have as much prominence in my project compared to the Flowertots.

During the Time War, Big Chris and the other human/animal characters were all part of Parker’s army. They and the Flowertots were usually grouped together in battles. When the armies were forced to disband by the government in July 2012, Big Chris and the others went back to Silverhatch Racetrack.

The characters wouldn’t be prominent again until the Moushouden Series. In Decade, Flash became Kamen Rider Drive thanks to Narutaki, who had used Gold Drive’s power to steal the Tridoron, the Shift Cars and Drive Driver from Shinnosuke Tomari. Mr Carburettor, Flash’s arch-nemesis, becomes Mashin Chaser and attempts to return the Drive Driver to its former owner. Later, when Narutaki has no further use for Flash, she takes the Drive Driver and throws it away, but luckily, Shinnosuke catches it. Seeing Flash’s repentance and wish to become a hero, he is given the means to become Kamen Rider Chaser by Shinnosuke, Hiroki and Mr Carburettor before he joins the other Riders in defeating Narutaki as Gold Drive.

Soon after, in Gokaiger, the Go-Ongers and Gekirangers work to create the former’s Megazord Power, the Turbo Falcon Zord, using the data of the cars. When they attempt to power up the Engine Cast, however, a system overload causes the cars’ consciousnesses to be sent into the Cell Chip loaded in it, leading to them all fighting for dominance in a pocket dimension. When the Gokaigers tame the Zord, Roary comes out as the dominant mind while the other cars decide to act as support.

[bryonysimcox]

Life on the Road: Week 1, France

A week ago we had just reached French shores and stayed the night near the Belgium border. Now, over a thousand kilometres later, I look back at life on the road in Suzi the HiAce.

The days before we left England, I was filled with nerves. A weird sort of apprehension-excitement-fear combo descended on me, especially as George left me alone for a day whilst he headed up to Manchester to do a last-minute video shoot. Then, Monday morning finally came and I was so glad we were ready to leave, given that my mind had been running in circles in the days prior.

Even if we had forgotten things, not planned for certain eventualities, I was ready to go and to start our long-awaited trip.

The drive to Dover was somewhat uneventful, punctuated by a welcome visit at my Aunt’s house in Ashford, and a lovely meal, sharing stories of places travelled and frantically jotting notes down from my knowledgeable relatives about the best routes to take (and tolls to avoid!) in France. We arrived at the ferry terminal with ages to spare, an unusual departure from George and my usual tendency to leave everything to the last minute. Once on French soil, we really enjoyed taking in the surroundings of the north coast. Although an altogether flat and industrial area, Dunkirk and the neighbouring villages were peppered with characterful qualities: the ‘Gilets Jaunes’ hosting small road-side bonfires, faded signage painted on brick facades, and unusual Flemish-style housing with tiled roofs and shuttered windows. We started to search online for the history of places we saw and towns we passed through, often discovering impressive stories from both the world wars of soldiers’ resistance and the resilience of ordinary local folk. This activity of reading a place’s Wikipedia page as evening entertainment has become a bit of a habit!

(images, left to right) Exploring the streets of Dunkirk, a much-needed celebratory champagne/beer on the ferry from Dover, and me outside Suzi on our drive to Paris.

En route to Paris, we risked the tolls and experienced the aggression of French drivers when they get stuck behind a 25-year old fully-laden campervan. Tolls are something we’re generally going to avoid; whilst they save you time, we’d rather save the money and enjoy the more scenic routes. But in this instance, we got to France’s capital nice and quickly, and found free showers at the roadside services as a bonus.

The two and a half days we spent in Paris were just perfect: we kept things slow and cheap rather than trying to see and do everything.

Based on advice from other vanlifers, we opted to park up in a suburb on the outskirts of the city and catch the train each day. Despite protests from railway workers and closed train lines making headline news whilst we were there, the line we took seemed unaffected and it worked out brilliantly - we would pop up at the station outside Notre Dame, and each day take in the sights of the city by foot. Road closures left streets feeling calm and quiet, combined with the fact that the freezing cold temperatures were keeping the crowds away!

Generally, we mooched around the Quartier Latin and the student areas, centred on the Pantheon and Rue Mouffetard, the city’s oldest street. I was impressed to see sustainable, human-centred initiatives across the city, no-doubt linked to the forward-thinking stance of Paris’ mayor, Anne Hidalgo (a renowned figure in urban design circles). There were lots of bicycles, generous pedestrian spaces, electric car charging stations and even billboards announcing the city’s ‘participatory budgeting’ scheme, although the lack of green spaces and trees was apparent too.

(images, left to right) Filming in Le Jardin du Luxembourg, wandering along the Seine, and escaping from the cold in a super-cool Parisien cafe.

We were lucky enough to catch up with friends and family in Paris, which made the big city feel warm and welcoming.

On the first night, a girl who I had met back in Sydney when we both volunteered at a not-for-profit restaurant met up with us and showed us the local’s perspective into the best inner-city spots for wandering and socialising. On Thursday, what began as George randomly spotting that an old bandmate of his was also in Paris, resulted in a couple of beers that evening with him and his girlfriend. And the next day, we were able to see one of my cousins, along with his wife and newborn baby, in their apartment in the 11th arrondissement. These encounters were so enjoyable, and were a powerful reminder that it will be the people we see and spend time with along this trip that define it.

Sad to leave but ready for the next step, we left Paris in the knowledge that life admin was on the cards. We wanted to get a gas refill for our spare gas bottle so that when we run out on our first tank in some middle-of-nowhere location, we don’t have to eat cold spaghetti! After a few delightful days of being tourists in Paris, including filming our first episode of ‘Place Portraits’ about film photography through our documentary channel Broaden, spending a tireless day looking for the right gas refill felt like a fall from grace.

We quickly learned that all the little things like gas, electricity and water can take up a lot of time when you’re living in a van and you’re in a foreign country. 

Eventually laden with a new (albeit pricey) bottle of gas, we headed out towards the countryside to find somewhere to stay for the night. We didn’t get that far, and stopped in the town of Fontainbleu - renowned for its historic connections to French royalty (also worth checking out the Wikipedia page). We found our parking spot through the fantastic app ‘Park4Night’, and this location reaffirmed just how awesome the app can be, as it led us to a space literally outside the gates to Fontainbleu Castle! 

(images, left to right) A morning run around Fontainbleu Castle, a very excitable me after said run, and our epic camping spot outside the castle gates.

One of mine and George’s priorities has been to squeeze in exercise along the journey. Staying active is not only important to the two of us, but essential when you’re often sitting still in a van for long distances. The only thing getting in the way of doing lots of exercise is the fact that we don’t have a shower (though we’re looking into a small one with submersible pump and would love recommendations from folks who have used them before). Nonetheless, we did a 5K run around the eery castle grounds at Fontainbleu, and I’ve tailored a workout with the NikeTraining app that I can just about do lying in the van. As for the washing situation, well it’s either boiling a kettle and doing a face-cloth shower, or heading to public swimming pools (as we did in Lyon) and making use of the facilities whilst squeezing a swim in as well.

With dreams of snow, we spent two days headed south-east, through Lyon, towards the Alps. Unfortunately, it turned out to be a bit of a half-baked plan and we eventually decided to give up on the idea. 

We had gotten quite close to the Alps before we decided it wasn’t worth it. We’d been tracking slower than expected, and had generally realised that Suzi can’t just whizz up hilly roads as we’d like. Given that we also had no plans to ski (and were just headed there for the views and hikes), it felt like a huge commitment for not all that much reward. It was a frustrating decision, but a good first experience in the reality of trip-planning and timing.

Almost a week in, and it felt like we’d hit our first slump: giving up on the Alps and generally being aware that Suzi is an old van with a somewhat unreliable engine. Although we’ve had no issues with her so far, other than underwhelming fuel efficiency, George is conscious that we may have worn piston rings. The piston rings are something that could cause us issues in the future, so we’re closely monitoring them for now and on the look-out for a reliable garage in South France/Spain that may be able to have a look at them and give us an idea of what repairs may cost.

(images, left to right) Emptying the wastewater tank and filling up on fresh water at an ‘Aire du Camping-Car’, stocking up on much-needed bread and cheese, and editing footage inside the van in true hot-desking style! 

Changing the plan and re-diverting west turned out to be a real positive. We ventured along some alpine roads through the stunning scenery of the Parc Natural Regional Livradois-Forez and ended the first week on a high - parked up in the middle of nowhere safe and sound in the van.

That evening, we ate fresh baguette with local cheese and snuggled under our blanket watching a BBC crime drama. With no other sign of life in sight, we finally felt free - next to a stream in a misty forest, accompanied by the soundtrack of light rain. It wasn’t the most stunning place, the most famous or the most extreme, but it was just right.

[eerythingisshaka]

Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 8

[Black Panther x Insecure Mashup]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word Count: 4.6K

Issa can’t keep her composure if it was handed to her.  “Lawrence, I didn’t know you were doing waiter work...food service...I mean I didn’t know you worked here!”  Issa stammers, like occupation political correctness is most important right now.

Lawrence adjusts his black bowtie before, tapping his pen in his notepad.  “Yeah, it’s kind of a side gig I got going right now until I get Woot Woot off the ground.”

“You’re still trying to make that happen?  That’s what made you lose your job in the first place.”

Lawrence scoffs.  “”No, the company not believing in something good before everyone else was doing it got me LAID OFF, not fired.  But yeah, thanks for reminding me in front of your...date?”

T’Challa noisily slurps his water, bringing the glass down a little too hard on the table to bring Issa’s attention back to him.

Issa shakes her head in embarrassment.  “Right, this is T’Challa.  I’m working with him at We Got Y’all in an international collab kind of thing.”

Lawrence checks him out suspiciously.  “Yeah I think I heard about it online on some gossip site.  You’re from Africa, right?”

“Wakanda, yes.  Small country that I’m the King of.  It’s actually on BBC, CNN, many cable news networks almost everyday since I’ve been here.”  T’Challa says matter of factly.

“And T’Challa, this is Lawrence, my...ex.”  Issa adds hesitantly.

T’Challa offers a hand.  “I’m sorry for your loss, Lawrence.”

Lawrence peers at T’Challa with a slight attitude.  “Will I go to jail for doing something else with my hand besides shaking yours?”

“Well I doubt you could lose your job again, so....”  Issa snipes.  

T’Challa laughs genuinely.  “It’s ok Lawrence, I understand.  I come to you in good faith.”

“So is this a business meeting or…”  Lawrence says, getting nosy.

*Issa’s inner conscience* ‘Nah nigga this is nunya meeting; as in NUNYA BUSINESS!  Like how the bank teller bitch you fucked on my futon wasn’t my business.  Or maybe like how your unemployed ass left a permanent dent in the couch next to Frank Ocean was none of my business!  When you said you were focused on getting bread who knew it came with butter, bitch?! But what is my business is how I got a new nigga who’s rejuvenating my pussy one stroke at a time.  Best be leave the royal penis STAYS clean, ya brokeness!  I oughta Remember the Time your ass to a pile of dust, which ya dusty ass, Radio Shack ass, ‘may I refill your glass, sir?’ head ass-’

“Well right now we’re just trying to order food, so,”  Issa looks intently at her menu.  “If you wanna grab someone else to help us, that’s fine.”

“No, this is good.  Got a King who’s paying the bill, might as well earn the tip.”  Lawrence smile at Issa while nodding towards T’Challa.  

“Well, did you jot down what I told you before?”  T’Challa asks reviewing the menu once more.

“Yup, the shrimp dinner and the chicken marsala.”

“Good.  Have you had experience as a waiter before?”  T’Challa hands him the menu.

“Long time ago, but I’m really more into technology.”  Lawrence says.

“Oh, so is that what Wot Woot was from?  What is it exactly?’  T’Challa asks.

“We don’t have to get into it tonight, especially since I’m hungry and the order isn’t in yet.”  Issa reminds them through her teeth.

Lawrence waves her off.  “Don’t worry, this’ll be quick.  So Woot Woot is an app that’s a social media app that keeps track of your friends locations.  So when you’re near one, it goes-”

“Woot Woot?”  T’Challa says.

Lawrence snaps excitedly.  “That’s it man, or your highness!  Sounds cool, right?”

T’Challa rocks back and forth.  “It’s a bit out of date, is it not?  So many things have location trackers, and to have an app solely based on that, is like having holo-air boards with an incandescent headlight and a bell.”

“A what now?”  Issa asks.

Lawrence purses his mouth.  “Yeah, it was in development for a couple years and corporate politics kept shelving it so…”

“I do have some family that are into tech.  I would help myself but I’ve been busy…”  T’Challa takes Issa’s hand for emphasis on the subject in his sentence!  “But here’s a card with their info.  Give them your pitch and maybe they can help tweak it for you.”

Lawrence takes it, thinking it over.  “I...think I’m good, but thanks anyway.  I’ll get your bread and drinks.”

As Lawrence walked away Issa spoke under at a whisper.  “I’m sorry about that.”

T’Challa smiles sweetly.  “It’s ok.  I’m not surprised you have broken some hearts along the way.  I just hope it doesn’t affect our dining experience.”

Issa sighs.  “You don’t know the half.  I wasn’t very...good to him.  He didn’t try, but neither was I….I don’t wanna get into it.”

“You don’t have to, that’s not what tonight should be about.  Whatever the case was, I have only known you as woman who does things with intention.  You have a heart for the community that has made me even more excited for the start of the center here than I could’ve been before.  And then I just so happen to work with someone who resembles the the core of a  vibranium mineral being struck with pick axe.”

“What does that look like?”

“It’s beautiful, creates sparks that twinkle like a falling star….but explosive and volatile.”  T’Challa pauses a moment.  “Maybe that wasn’t as poetic as I thought it would be.”

Issa laughs.  “No, it’s nice.  Thank you.”

T’Challa kisses her hand as Issa looks back towards the kitchen area where Lawrence and a couple other waiters juggle orders.  

“I’ll be right back.”  Issa excuses herself making her way to Lawrence, who barely notices her standing by.

“Hey.   How are you?”  Issa asks awkwardly.

Lawrence looks at her with an unreadable expression.  “We got the introductions out at the table, we good.”

Issa’s chin collapses in her neck.  “I know you’re not mad, are you?  You moved on, I did too.”

“So if you know we’re good, why are you over here now?:  Lawrence chastises.

“Why are you being like this? “

“You come up in here with your new boyfriend, the King of Africa and shit and I’m supposed to just sit back and serve y’all?  You know what that feels like?”

“I thought you were good!  It’s not like that though.”

“It’s automatically like that.  I felt low before but now you puttin me under your foot with this new nigga Issa, I’m not tryna be a witness to that.”

Issa scoffs.  “Then don’t!  Get your tip and we can part!”

“You think Imma lower myself to taking his tip?  First he throws his resources in my face, downing Woot Woot, now I’m supposed to hand him a bill with a smile for 20%, you buggin!”

“Lawrence, this is the reason you aren’t getting nowhere.  You think you can do all of this by yourself, but you can’t!  You need help but you won’t ask for it!  It doesn’t matter if it’s a stranger or who I’m dating, you can’t take criticism.”

“That’s why you went behind my back with ole boy instead of talking to me right?”

“I DID TALK TO YOU!  I tried sooo many times, and yeah, I shoulda talked to you then to but we were so past that at that point-”

“And I’m past this Issa.  I’m good.”  Lawrence says.

T’Challa comes up behind Issa.  “Are you ok?  It sounded loud over here.”

“Yeah that’s the cooks man, they get noisy with orders and shit.  Don’t worry bout it, yours coming out soon.”

“T’Challa, I think I’m ready to go, actually.”  Issa says walking away.

Oh ok.  Don’t worry bout it.  Have a good night!”  Lawrence yells after her.  T’Challa and Lawrence stare at each other for a beat before Lawrence shrugs and goes back to his tickets for the night.

----

Molly checked her playlist on her phone to pick the perfect category curated for a twockin good time.  Pressing play, Molly oohs at the beat dropping on Janet Jackson’s ‘Go Deep’ on her 90s queue.  She twirls in her living space as the aroma of buffalo wings snakes around her nostrils tempting her to take another taste test just to make SURE sure that the meat was cooked to perfection.  Before she could go for it, her phone rang: picking it up she sees Erik’s name light up.  Luckily for her, fucking him on the first date didn’t wind up in a ghosting situation.  They’ve been quietly inseparable for a minute now.

“Whatchu doin callin me boy?  You know this Girls Night!”  Molly asks in an accusatory manner, jokingly on her FaceTime

Erik laughs slow, looking like he just took a break from a smoke session.  “I’m just tryna have a night with MY girl, you hear me?”

Molly smiles leaning on her counter.  “Whatever man, you better not be interrupting shit.  They should be here any minute.”

“That’s cool.  I’m just tryna figure out the next time you wantin to hit the mile high club?  I can get my hands on a jet that’ll take care of the work so you ain’t gotta wait for me to land and jump my bones like you crazy.”

“That was a one time thing, I do not trust you on any aircraft.  Damn near killed me with your tricks!” Molly scolds him while turning off her oven.

“Shiiiit, you got your revenge on me there, in the car…”

Molly leans on the counter.  “And it coulda been at your spot too if you wasn’t actin all tired.”

A knock on the door interrupted the list of their future indiscretions.  

“I gotta go!  I’ll talk to you later old man.”

“Pssh, aight.  Big talk, Mol.”

Molly bounces over to the door, pausing before swinging the door open with a squeal.

“Ahh!! Oh!  You’re early!”  Molly says, excitement slightly diminishing as Tiffany puts a stank face on in her direction.

“Uhh, fix your energy.  I lugged four bottles of Moet and some Fiji for me, up your long ass flight of steps, me and my baby will fight you for the blatant disrespect.”  

Molly takes the bags out her hands.  “I didn’t mean it like that, thanks Tiffany.  Have a seat, you’re the first one here.”

Tiffany whips her blonde hair back with a quickness.  “First?  These heffas pulling a fashionably late move on us?”

Molly shrugs.  “You already know what time it is.”

Tiffany goes to the kitchen to pick up a wing.  “I do, and it’s past my bedtime!  These wings are going to bring me closer to that!”  Tiffany smacks loudly on a her morsel of chicken, enjoying the salty, spicy sauce off her fingers.  

“There’s napkins in there too ma’am.”  Molly calls from the couch, flipping through channels.  

“Speaking of things that need to be wiped down, how’s you and Erik doing?”  Tiffany asks, waddling over to join her.  

Molly laughs a little too loudly.  “Whatchu mean?  We’re having fun, and it’s….really been fun too.”

Tiffany cocks her head to the side.  “I can tell, you’ve loosened up a little bit more since meeting him, putting spring in your step.”

“And he keeps me hopping!”  Molly chuckles.  “I don’t know what it is, but he brought out a side of me I barely remember having anymore.  With work and all these lame niggas, I forget what a real cool one is even like.”

Tiffany licks her fingers.  “Well, ‘cool’ doesn’t last a lifetime, like the weather.  And he sounds like a seasonal nigga to me.”

Molly rolls her eyes, pouring some wine for herself.  “Good thing your opinion doesn’t run my life.”

A knock at the door brings a wave of relief over the both of them as Molly trots to open the door.  

Molly brings out a big smile for it to drop just as quickly.  “Oh, hey, are you….Issa’s co-worker?”

Nakia smiles politely.  “I am, Nakia.  Nice to meet you.”

Nakia holds out her hand for Molly to take while she gains her bearings.

“Yeah, of course!  Nice to meet you!  Wow, you’re gorgeous.  Come on in!  Not everyone is here just yet.”  Molly closes the door behind Nakia.  Tiffany waves from the couch.

“How are you!  I’m  Tiffany Dubois,  one of Issa’s friends.”

Nakia offers waves back.  “Yes, nice to meet you as well.  This is a lovely place you have.”

Tiffany scoffs, twirling her honey blonde hair.  “Oh no, this isn’t up to my code of residential requirements.  This is Molly’s bachelorette pad.”

“Tiffany, you recommended me this place!”  Molly exclaims.

“I brought some sweets I hope you all will like.”  Nakia offers a container that was too fancy to be plain tupperware..

Tiffany perks up.  “Ooh, where are they from?”

“I made them actually.  I had some spare ingredients and a craving so I figured this was the perfect time to whip something up.”  

Molly thanks her.  “You can put it on the counter in the kitchen.  Grab a glass of something to drink while you’re at it.”

“No!   Grab a whole bottle!  We have plenty!”  Tiffany insists.

Nakia does so, setting her tray opposite the hot wings.  “So, how long have you and Issa been friends?”

Molly starts.  “For a loooong time.  Almost half our lives now.”

“I came around later, but I like to think I really elevated the class in us all.”  Tiffany adds.

“Bitch, what?”  Molly looks over at Tiffany, who doubles down.

“You all were eating 2 for $20 appetizers and $5 hurricane slushies and the Trops Bar for fun.  But with me, we have tasteful dinner, sipping wine in art galleries, all kinds of high class activities.”

“You do remember partying at the Dunes with them gang bangers almost setting her place on fire and you got so high off their supply, you and your husband conceived that night, right?  Also, I’m a lawyer in this expensive ass loft, don’t tell me I ain’t high class, that’s Kelli and Issa’s trapping asses.”

Just then some raps start banging on the door to the beat of Grinding by Clipse, extra loud making Nakia jump slightly.

Molly gets up.  “Speak of the devils.”  As she goes to open the door, Kelli is bent over twerking her ass in the air Issa keeps the beat on her door, smiling with her whole teeth.

“Get the hell off my door with this shit y’all, DAMN!”  Molly scolds.  Issa ends her concert, smacking Kelli’s ass to cut her ass performance short.

Kelli straightens up, walking on through the door.  “Ain’t my fault, I stand for my national anthem and that means face down, ass up!”

Issa walks in behind her scanning the room.  “Hey Tiffany and oh Nakia, I didn’t know you’d be so on time, I would’ve came earlier.”

“No you wouldn’t’ve.  Cuz I asked you to help me cook these damn wings but all I heard was drool and snoring on your side of things.”  Molly says, heading to the kitchen.

“You know I take nap before girl’s night cuz alcohol makes me crash fast…”  Issa mutters.  “Anyway I brought the hot Cheetos and ranch to snack on!”

“How many bags?”  Molly asks.

Issa looks around her feet, behind her back, checking her pockets.  “One, duh!”

“Is!  How the fuck are we supposed to snack on one bag of Cheetos between five bitches?”  Molly exclaims.

“Tiffany don’t eat them!  Kelli been getting heartburn bad lately, so she don’t fuck with the spice, Nakia?  You had these before?”

Nakia studies the bag.  “ I haven’t, no.”

“It’s nothing but cayenne and cancer, it would be tragic to ruin that good immune system of yours with this American fuckery.”  Molly quips.

“Why are you fighting over it then?”  Nakia asks.

“Because they are delicious!  I grew up with these, and I’m not dead yet so I’m good!”

Kelli pops her tongue from the Moet bottle  tickling her tastebuds. “And bitch, don’t think I can’t still go in on some hot Cheetos.  I just gotta pop a calcium tablet, don’t get it twisted.”  She turns to Nakia.  “So, are you the princess we have heard so much about?”

Nakia smiles humbly.  “No, not at all.  That would require a marriage to the King, which is not happening.”

Molly walks in with the wings on the coffee table, Issa has plates and napkins.  

“And T’Challa is...a king right?”  Tiffany asks slowly.

Nakia sips her drink and nods.  “Yes, and that ship sailed a long time ago.”

Issa almost choked on a flat hanging out of her mouth.  “It got that serious between you two?”

Nakia shrugs, shifting in her seat.  “We’ve known each other all of our lives, so when things changed to a romantic relationship, it was always taken seriously.  But I have my own life that I want to live that does not fit in the traditional queen setting.”

Kelli stutters.  “Oh shit, you….you can do that?  Just telling the King no?”

Nakia laughs.  “It’s not a dictatorship!  I can tell him no when I want to, I can come and go from the country as I please,  plus he knows better than to try me on most things anyway.”

“Oh so you got a hold on him good?”  Molly asks, her eyes whipping back to Issa for a cosign.  

Nakia finishes her drink.  “It’s not just me particularly.  The women in our country are held in an equal and in most cases higher regard than the man.  It hurts me to see these women in other lands I’ve visited being treated unfairly and violently because they are seen as second class.  It was an eye opening experience.  That’s why I know T’Challa enjoys Issa’s company so much.  She is a strong personality, not a people please, and intelligent.  Of course very beautiful.”  

Molly pushes Issa a little with her shoulder as she tries to hold back a smile.  “Oh stop.  I don’t even do a lot.  Plus my makeup routine been so nonexistent, I need to get back on it.”

“Ok bitch, this ain’t your birthday, so I won’t sit for all this overcomplimentary foolishness.”  Tiffany says pouring a small glass of the Moet for herself.

“But at least that means this wine is kicking in, y’all feeling all extra happy and loving.  Don’t go kissing each other now.”  Kelli snorts as she polishes off a wing.

Issa rolls her eyes.  “But Nakia, really thank you for that.  I was feeling really insecure about T’Challa and you, that I thought I don’t stand a chance.”

Nakia reaches across to tap Issa on the knee.  “You don’t have a chance.  You have an open and unadulterated opportunity to get to know a great man.  I would never stand in his way, nor would I stand in yours.”

Issa smiles at her genuinely, squeezing her hand and sharing a moment with Nakia.  She couldn’t believe how supportive Nakia was being but maybe it helped that T’Challa and her are friends first.  And T’Challa showed no inkling of being back and forth between them so maybe she was just being extra paranoid.  He even took running into an ex of hers as better than she would.  All this made the possibilities with T’Challa that much more difficult for her to imagine.

“Now that we all waited to exhale, let me get some dirt on m’boyfriend M’Baku!  My mm-mm good to the last drop!  He got any spare hoes running around the States?”

Nakia pauses to think.  “No, but I know he’s had a harem of choices back home.”

Kelli gasps, looking horrified.

Tiffany touches her back.  “Kelli?  You ok?”

Molly joins in.  “Yeah?  Were you getting serious with him?”

Kelli swallows hard.  “So...he’s got a gang of women over in Wakansas?”

“Wakanda, yes.”  Nakia says curtly.  “But he’s not a bad man either, it’s just his custom.”

“So...I got somebody that is able to maintain that level of sexual prowess.  To keep multiple women and new ones on a regular happy with that shaft?”  Kelli shouts, clapping her hands as the other women look around in confusion.  “Bitch, bring them brownies in.  We are celebrating today!”

The ladies share a laugh as Nakia goes to bring her container of delicious looking brownies.   

“I hope you like them.  They are custom for parties, especially meeting new people.”

She cuts some pieces, and serves them around the group as everyone specifies their preferred pieces: corner, center, edge.  They are an instant hit as the girls whoop over the moist and rich density of the baked good.  Their laughs bounce off of the walls as they open up to each other more and more about themselves.  If anyone were to witness them, they would appear like long life friends with Nakia.  After their dessert, the wings went even quicker.

“Damn, you know I wanted to fuck y’all up for bringing nothing but a bag of hot Cheetos to this dinner party with ya cheap asses, but this shit is hitting!”  Molly says in a relaxed manner, leaning over her plate to take a healthy bite of her wing, chasing it down with a chip.

Kelli is leaned back with Tiffany drifting off on her shoulder.  “That’s cuz...the hot Cheetos are the appetizer to every meal.  Think about it.  Cheetos.  It starts with ‘cheat’.  That means, it’s the cheat code to every meal.  It unlocks the flavor….of whatever you bout to eat!”  

Issa  slowly turns from her lean on the arm of the couch.  “Kelli that has to be the smartest shit I ever heard you say.”  

Kelli nods emphatically in agreeance.  

“So, Nakia….first of all, you the MVP for this dessert.”  Molly starts.  “But you gave the scoop on Issa and Kelli’s flames, what about mine?  Wassup with Erik?”

Nakia sits back in thought, clearly the most lucid of the group.  “Well, we have not known him as long.  He’s long lost family of T’Challa’s, first cousin.”

Issa smacks Molly’s leg a little too hard making her wince.  “Damn girl, the fuck was that for!”

“Shit, my bad.  But we would like double date or something.  Girl, our children would practically be siblings.  That shit mad cute!”

“No they would not, but I appreciate the sentiment.”  Molly says.  “So not much to say other than that?”

Nakia picks up her wine glass.  “I didn’t say that.  There’s plenty to get into, just a shorter span of time he became acquainted.”

“Tell us!”  Kellie bellows to the ceiling out of the blue.

“Him and T’Challa didn’t get along too great when they first met.”

“Oooh, cousins fighting!  That’s some Black shit.”  Issa says.

“And of course Erik wanted to kill T’Challa, so when he didn’t succeed, T’Challa almost killed Erik but gave him another chance and started trying to rehabilitate him since then.  I think it’s going well since Molly seems taken by him.”

Molly stops to stare at Nakia.  Issa squints, raising her hand like a child in class.  “When you says Erik tried to kill T’Challa, you mean like kill you like fuck you up real bad or kill you like first degree, capital felony offense type shit?”

Nakia purses her mouth.  “The latter.”

Molly begins to breathe in and out deeply and frequently.  

Kelli’s head pops up, stirring Tiffany awake.  “Molly fuckin a murder?  Oh shit!”

“He didn’t murder him!  He didn’t do it, T’Challa’s alive!”

“Nah bitch, he didn’t SUCCEED.  Which means he meant to fully end Issa’s dudes life.  Girl, did he choke you when y’all fucked, cuz that could be him testing the waters-”

“Molly, I’m sorry if this upsets you.  I thought that this may have been brought up by now.”

“Well, we’ve only been on like a date and a half so it’s still fresh.”  Molly says.  “But they are good now?  Even after all that?”

Nakia nods.  “Yes.  T’Challa has a kind heart, and respect for the son of his father’s brother, especially with all he has been through.  Erik is Wakandan but never group up knowing this side of his family, so he understood Erik’s anger.”

Molly relaxes a little.  “I guess, that’s a happy ending.  I still gotta talk to him about this, no way I can let this go without his side of it.”  

Issa nods.  “That’s right, you doin great sweetie.  Hear him out.”

Tiffany stretches and yawns.  “I told you girl.  Seasonal ass nigga.”

Nakia reasons with Molly..  “It would be noble of you to talk to him about it.  I’m so surprised you didn’t know.  What did he tell you the scars were for?’

“What scars?”  Molly asks.  

“The scars covering his torso.  They represent….maybe I should let him explain it.”  Nakia’s voice trails off.

“Are they scars from his fight with T’Challa?”  Molly asks.

“Girl, how you not know he got scars on him?  Y’all fucked right?”  Kelli asks.

“Yeah, but it was quick and we didn’t even get our clothes off for real...Nakia, where are they from?”

Nakia looks down.  “I should go.  I can’t tell you without giving away his past.  He should be the one to tell you.”

Nakia gathers the leftovers of her dessert and issues goodbye with the group.  Tiffany and Kelli follow next.

“Hey girl.  If you need pointers on a prison pen pal relationship.  I won’t say I know about how to sneak shit in for him but…”  Kelli makes motions with her head and winks so boldy she might as well have said what she meant.

Molly’s eyes widen impatiently.  “I hear you.  I won’t need your services tonight so thank you, buh bye!”  Molly leads them out the door, leaving her with Issa.

“Hey, how are you?”  Issa asks.

Molly puffs out her cheeks.  “I don’t know girl.  I haven’t dealt with this before!”

Issa nods.  “Well I know you have your standards on guys so if he doesn’t fit, just make it a quick cut while you can.”

Molly makes a face.  “What do you mean I have standards with guys?  Like I’m nitpicking or judgy?

“No!  But I mean, if you can’t make it work with a guy that made less money than you or experimented with a guy once years ago, but give your key to a married man, I think you should put your standards under review at least in this case.”  

Molly walks away from Issa.  She could never take blunt criticism outside of the law firm well, and from her best friend is even worse.

��So I guess I’m that big of a mess huh?  Now I let a murder fuck and what, I’m gonna be his next notch in his belt?”  Molly hisses with contempt.

Issa sighs exasperatedly.  “He hasn’t hurt you now!  Just meet him in a well lit, well populated area and ask him upfront what’s good.”

“You sure have all the answers.  What about you?  T’Challa is a part of this conversation too.”

Issa scratches her neck.  “I mean, I wasn’t going too…”

“Huh?”

“I said….I wasn’t going to BUT, maybe I will.”

Molly nods.  I think you should.  If y’all go the distance, he could run into shit like this on a regular.  Assassination attempts, missions that call for him to fight.  You really tryna be the right hand of a man in all of that?”

Issa hadn’t thought of that.  He is a King after all, and political figures are constantly in need of protection and close watch, but he is so active that’s hard for anyone to keep up with.  And America really doesn’t give a shit, so if he died could she handle?  Would she be tapped to lead?  Would he ask her to live in Wakanda with him?

“Thank Molly, now I’m paranoid.  How can I see him with all that on my brain?”

Molly scoffs.  “Join the club girl.”

Masterlist

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@afraiddreamingandloving

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@allhailnjadaka @cutewylie @bidibidibombaclaat@muse-of-mbaku @wakanda-inspired @klaine15689

[daathren]

Looking through My Old Documents

I actually found a Sherlock/Original Female Character story I had started but never finished. I think I might actually pick it up again since just reading through it, I was highly impressed with where I was going with it. Definitely a BBC Sherlock AU at this point. Let me know what you guys think about it.

~*~*~

Trigger Warning:  Mentions of Rape, Attempted Rape, Extreme Violence

Power of Three:  Adventures of a Mad Genius, his Protector, and his Keeper

Book One:

by

D. A. Athren

 Summary:

Sherlock was never one to make alliances. Even when he went underground to burn Moriarty’s Web, he was a lone wolf. Well, at least that’s what John thought until he came home from the surgery one afternoon to find a young woman crawling along the floor of the sitting room, leaving a trail of blood in her path while she cried out for William.

   Prologue:

 Mycroft watched the camera. That’s all he really could do. He couldn’t send a team out to stop it. He couldn’t tip off Lestrade so he could get a patrol and an ambulance out there as soon as possible. No, all he could do was watch and wait and pray to a higher power that he knew wasn’t there while the gruesome scene unfolded. He couldn’t even message Sherlock to tell him what was happening or that he had a private jet already on its way to him to get him home as soon as possible.

 It was rare to get Mycroft worked up about anything or let his mask of complete emotional control crumble but when Anthea rushed into his meeting with the Prime Minister and told him that a Code Mauve was happening, the panic rose from him instantaneously. He grabbed the tablet from her, activated the feed, and yelled at her when he found out she hadn’t already started Code Mauve procedures. He hadn’t even bothered to properly inform the Prime Minister of what was happening when the live feed finally patched through and he saw the woman being pummeled into the ground by 5 men.

 He just rushed out of the meeting room to make his way to his office, hoping that he wouldn’t have a funeral to plan instead of getting the proper paperwork ready.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 “Come with me.”

 He had blurted it out, which was so unlike him. She was shocked. Shocked that he asked, shocked at where he had asked, and shocked that the three words lacked the baritone confidence his voice usually carried. She looked up from the safe’s dial briefly, finding that his gaze was still secure and unwavering on the door. “I would love nothing more than to explore your home.”

 You’re only doing this because you’re a creature of habit…

 “I hear a ‘but’…”

 “But you know I have burned bridges there.”

 “I could protect you.”

 She sighed, starting her calculated motions on the dial again until she felt the pins slide into place. The safe was unlocked. “Of course you could protect me, William, but your protection would place me in another guiled cage.”

 I’ll get bored. I know I’ll get bored and I’ll do something stupid and I’ll fuck up your life…born a criminal, always a bloody criminal!

 He turned his piercing, turquoise gaze on her. “You waste your gifts.”

 She sighed; running a hand through her kinky curls before popping the safe open and taking the security box from within it, placing it in her hobo bag. “And you let your genius idiocy get the best of you…again,” she muttered.

 He pondered her words for a moment before a look of realization formed in his eyes. “Nic, what have you done?”

 “I got you the files that you need to kill Moran,” she mumbled.

 “This is a Mạngkr base, isn’t it?”

 “Yes.”

 “You lied.”

 “Oh yes.”

 His eyes sparkled with amusement. “I am getting rusty.”

 She closed the safe door hard, triggering the alarm system as planned. “No, you aren’t and don’t ever say that around me again,’ she grumbled with a wicked smile on her face. He couldn’t help but give her a small smile in return before turning his features serious.

 Just let it go, Sherlock…let me have this!

 “You have destroyed your security in order to give me the piece to the puzzle I need in order to find Moran and then return home,” he stated as he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet.

 She adjusted the bodice of her cocktail dress before they both made their way back into the hidden service entrance that they used to enter the office; just moments before the security team entered it. They had made their way out into the garden, towards the party, before she spoke. “Moran is keeping you from your home, from the people that you need. You are brilliant and that brilliance should be shining in the open not hidden and dirtied in the shadows. The true security I had died 4 years ago when those two bastards took them from me. I also can’t miss what I never really had,” she whispered as they blended into the crowd on the dance floor.

 You promised never to compromise me. You promised!

 “You could use your talents for more than being a thief among bloated clan leaders who think everyone is too afraid to rob them so they leave their wealth behind simple locks I could pick in my sleep,” he whispered back, pulling her into a swaying dance as his eyes scanned the area.

 She giggled a bit at his words, wrapping her arms around his neck. She was uncomfortably tempted to run her fingers through his dark curls. “That was a Doettling’s Fortress I just cracked in less than 10 minutes. Mr. Miyamoto is very serious about his business with the international branches.”

 His eyes drifted down to her. “London could give you so much more than what some overly expensive safe can. You crave a challenge as much as I do and I can give you that. You are not meant to live a life in the dark,” he stated matter-of-factly. She just shook her head softly at him, giving him a sad yet knowing smile.

 All this time and you never deduced that I’m…content…

 They danced in silence until the song was over; a signal that everything had gone according to plan and it was time for them to go their separate ways.

 “It was a pleasure, Mr. Holmes,” she said with forced politeness, letting her arms fall to her sides.

 Don’t know if I’m going to miss the danger or miss you…

 “I cannot leave you so exposed,” he nearly growled out, defiance in his eyes. His grip tightened on her, his eyes narrowed on something behind her; a guard.

 “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. William, if I return to London the Fateralis would have me beaten to within an inch of my life and would leave me for dead in the heart of London. I killed the Boss’s son, my boyfriend, when he tried to rape me. The only reason I was given a chance to leave the UK is because my father was the Boss’s right hand man. It would be up to me to get somewhere safe. I couldn’t go to A&E. I couldn’t have someone in waiting to pick me up wherever they drop me off and I definitely couldn’t have your protection swooping in to save me. I would have to survive all on my own in order to earn the right to walk the streets again. You do not want that blood on your hands. You might not be an angel but you are nowhere near the demon you claim to be.”

 That sacrifice would be in vain!

 He stared at her for a moment; giving her that look that she knew meant he was analyzing every detail about her. “Neither are you. Your heart is racing right now. Not because of the adrenaline from getting away with it. It’s not even because you are pressed against me in an intimate fashion. It is because you are afraid you might never get to shine like this again. You think this was all me but it was not. You did this, Niccola. I am usually self-centered and would never admit that out loud. I call John an idiot all the time even when he is 100% correct about something. I am admitting to you, right now, that without you this plan would have never come together and I would have gotten myself killed. Take that for what it is worth!”

 And with that, he let go of her and backed up into the crowd; his eyes moving to each direction a guard was stationed. She nodded to him, heading into the crowd in the opposite direction and away from the guards.

 You’ll erase this when you get home. You’ll erase it and just go on your way!

There was a boat waiting for her on the docks. He had a car awaiting him down the road that he would use to get to the airport. She was to open the security box once she got to her hut, keeping anything that wasn’t the manifest and ship that off to the British government.

 It was a good bounty. A few rare gems, some photos she could use to get what she needed to get out of Japan, and 2,195,500 yen. She should have gotten the manifest in the mail the very next day but she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. Gods, she hated it when she let anything besides the thrill of the catch sidetrack her but there she was; lounging around her Taiji hut for almost 3 days before she finally decided on what to do.

 You’re an addict. It’s why you do what you do…

 She headed out the very next day and dropped the manifest off in the mail with a handwritten letter to Mister W. Holmes tucked inside of it. She was starting her life over. She might as well start it off right, which meant taking a chance. And by taking a chance, she was going to need to prepare herself…

 ~*~*~*~*~

 Sherlock knew he wasn’t dead. If he was dead, his head wouldn’t feel like it was threatening to explode behind his lids. He tried to open his eyes but they refused to obey his command and when he tried to reach a hand up to force them open, a sharp pain traveled up the length of it and caused him to hiss. It was then that he heard the sounds of someone else being in the room, triggering his memory. He had been captured and the captors were in the process of beating information out of him, well, at least trying to. He refused to talk, which caused his captors to beat him even harder. In fact, he wasn’t supposed to wake up from the last beating, which involved an industrial-size wrench.

 “Don’t move, ok? The Uzumaki twins did quite a number on you. I don’t know what you did to help Tamiko but you should thank your lucky stars that she called in the favor I owe her,” a feminine American voice whispered to him. He wanted to ask her how Tamiko found out he had been captured but he soon realized that his teeth were sewn shut; his jaw must have been broken for such an action to be taken.

 He heard the sounds of water cascading before he felt a cool cloth pressed to his face gingerly. “Don’t try to speak either. It will be just as painful as moving at this point. You had a lot of injuries I had to set in place. A broken jaw, fractured skull, broken left wrist, several deep cuts across your back, 5 broken ribs each side, and a dislocated right ankle not to mention you had pneumonia deeply set in your chest and infection in all of your open wounds. You will be out of commission for quite a while but this is the first time you’ve actually been fully conscious in almost a month.” She spoke as if she was trying to sooth a startled animal as she continued to clean his face and his chest with the cloth.

 “I lost you a few times in the beginning. You would stop breathing or your fever reached a point that I had to drive into the village in order to get ice blocks to help cool you down. By the time I got back, you would be seizing up. The village medicine woman has come by every Monday to give me some reprieve so I could bath and take care of the house. The only room I kept clean was yours. I wasn’t going to have you dying because of an infection that I introduced,” she said with a snort. He heard her ring out the cloth a few times before bringing it back to his skin.

 “You’ve been doing very well the last 2 weeks. The swelling in your face has been slowly retreating, which means that your jaw is finally healing properly and I should have the stitching out in a week or so. I also checked your wrist a few days ago and it is healing quite well. I should be able to put it in a fiberglass cast around the same time I work on your jaw as long as the swelling stays down. The most I can give you for pain management is low grade codeine. Tamiko told me a bit about your past and I don’t think your system could handle any form of withdraw. I definitely won’t deny you a cig though once the rattling leaves your lungs. I think by the time you get there, you will quite deserve it. Either way, the best thing for you right now is to finally enter a true sleep instead of unconsciousness. Don’t worry…I won’t leave your side.” With that, she laid the cool cloth across his forehead and he felt her move away from his side.

 He was already missing her voice when he heard the most beautiful cello work he had ever experienced. The melody was soothing yet haunted and it kept his mind off of the pain. Sherlock slipped into the first dream he had dreamt in over a year…and oddly enough, all it involved was him bantering with John at the kitchen table.

   The next time he woken, he was greeted to the sounds and warmth of a crackling fire and the smell of roasted chicken. He groaned in a mixture of want and pain. It had been a very long time since he had a decent meal. “Ah, I see that you’re awake. You’ve been sleeping for roughly 24 hours give or take. I figured with you in your first true sleep that I would actually cook for once instead of living off of canned clam chowder from the fishery.”

 He heard the sound of a metal clanging against metal before he heard her shuffle over to him. The cooking fire must not be too far from here. Soon he heard the telltale sound of water cascading again before he felt her gentle touch with the cloth against his chest. “Tamiko has been sending me weekly posts asking about your progress. She told me to make sure you knew the only reason she wasn’t here right now is due to it would bring too much trouble to you and I for her to suddenly have business in Taiji. Her husband doesn’t even know that she let me go. Either way, she is very worried about you and has been praying to her Gods that you would make it through. As long as you keep resting peacefully for the next few days and your fever doesn’t return, I’ll be happy to let her know that her Kenjin is recovering quite nicely.”

 He wanted nothing more than to open his eyes and visually deduce his caretaker but his eyes were still too swollen to allow him a peek. Now that he had rested though, his mind seemed much sharper than earlier and he settled on deducing what he could from the way she talked.

 Her accent was interesting. What he thought earlier was clearly American didn’t quite describe her dialect. She was born in America but moved to the UK when she was young, maybe 7 or 8 years of age. Young enough for her mind to still be influenced by the dialect that surrounded her but too far along in development for her to completely forget the dialect she was born in. The way she pronounced her vowels and Rs screamed Swindon but the way the Japanese words rolled off her tongue showed that she had been in Japan long enough to perfect the language.

 Average intelligence with complete immersion in the culture would have her pronunciation perfected in 10-12 years but she wasn’t average. She had advanced medical knowledge, enough that she knew how to revive him slowly from near death. Enough knowledge that she’s confident in delivering news on his various injuries and how they will heal so…she could pick up the Japanese language in 6-8 years.

 She speaks of Tamiko with a casual air meaning she knew Tamiko before she married her husband, who is a clan leader in Northern Japan. Tamiko had been married to Hideo Maki for almost 6 years so Tamiko would have met her as soon as she arrived in the land. Tamiko is also the daughter of the local Yakuza boss so they most likely met through the family business.

 She recused him from a secure gang location meaning she was skilled in stealth and quite experienced with high stress situations. She also must have underground connections as she would have needed help sneaking him out of the location. Even with them starving him for the last week of his ‘stay’, his weight would have been roughly 9 stones when she rescued him and even a female with above average strength would have trouble sneakily dragging 9 stones out of a secure gang location.

 As he pulled himself out of his thoughts, he realized his caretaker had been quiet as if she knew exactly what he was doing. Sherlock had so many questions but they would go unanswered until the stitching in his mouth was removed and as if reading his mind, she answered him intuitively.

 “You probably have so many questions for me; wondering who I am, if you’re safe, or if you have gone from one bad situation to another. Just trust me Kenjin, you are in good hands and I’m not putting you back together just to tear you apart again. We have the same enemy and I have promised myself to you until he has been brought to his end. Now, I’m going to finish cleaning your front and then I’m going to lay you down on your stomach so I can check the stitching on your back. Since you are conscious, it should be safe for you to lie on your stomach for a while and allow them to air out for a bit. It’s going to be painful rolling you over but I’ll give you your first dose of codeine afterwards. I also made you some chicken broth while you were sleeping. It should be cool enough for you to sip on through a straw once I finish cleaning your back. Nod if you understand.”

 Even though he’s in no position to refuse any of her demands, she still asks and awaits his acknowledgement before she’s goes about her task. She’s loyal and considerate. She could possibly be military trained medical like John. It would explain her skillset in stealth and high stress situations.

 The detective nodded in understanding, giving a grunt at how stiff his neck was. He shouldn’t be surprised that the movement was strained; he had been out of commission for a month or more meaning his muscles were more or less useless. He had a long road of healing and pain before the movement would come easy to him again. “Alright, Kenjin, Tamiko says that you have a sharp mind and can easily fall into Zen like trance when presented a puzzle to solve so I will try to work your mind so the move to place you on your stomach will be as painless as possible,” she stated in a professional tone. She rubbed his chest down a few more times before he heard her toss the cloth into its water source. “I’m going to give you a riddle. After I finish giving you the riddle, I’m going to count down from 5 and by 0 I want you to be in your trance. Alright, here we go…while exploring the Wilds of Ireland, Robert was captured by goblins. Grumpy, the Chief of the Goblins told him he was allowed one final statement on which would determine how he would die. If the statement he made was false, he would be boiled in water. If the statement were true, he would be fried in oil. Since Robert didn’t like either option, he wanted to make a statement that forced Grumpy to release him. What is the one statement he could make to save himself? Five…” Oh this was child’s play!

 “Four…”

 Tamiko must not have told her how brilliant his mind was…

 “Three…”

 It’s really just a simple matter of hidden logic. Don’t they teach that in literature class in elementary school?

 “Two…”

 Robert would have to throw the Chief through a loop. Make him question whether the statement is true or false.

 “One…”

 And the only way to he could do that is to give a statement that was completely dependent of the actions that the Chief was going to take.

 “Zero!”

 Meaning the only statement Robert could make is ‘You will boil me in water!’…wait…how am I already facedown?

 “Don’t tense up. In this position you could cause the stitching to rip,” she mumbled. She was already peeling back what he assumed was tapped down gauze. She had distracted him enough with her simple riddle that she was able to flip him over even before she spoke the word zero. He was impressed…and in major pain. Luckily, she had already removed the last of his bandages and he could hear the pull of a needle sucking up fluid.

 Sherlock was really starting to wonder if his caretaker could read his mind.

 ~*~*~*~*~

 “You have some nerve showing up here, whore!” a tall, stereotypical Italian man yelled at Niccola.

 The short, caramel complexion woman rolled her eyes at him. “I’m not a whore. I’m a slut. I don’t get paid to sleep with people. Do your research, Tom…”

 The man got right in her face, grinning twistedly. “I can’t wait until I get punch you in those pretty little lips while I put my cock in you.”

 She couldn’t help but wince at the thought of him getting his hands on her. “You’re too much of a Daddy’s boy to do that. Sorry but you’re only going to get the chance to knock me around.”

 Somehow his grin got wider. “Pops would never have to know!”

 “You do anything more than beat me and the conditions are breached. With the conditions breached, that means I get to retaliate. And trust me; I could kick you and those pathetic excuses for men arses from here to Sussex and back again without breaking a sweat.”

 “Yea fucking right!”

 Her features went creepily blank. “Didn’t you guys have to have a closed casket funeral for Tony? The news said he was beaten with a crowbar but I have it on good authority that the sick bastard did it with their fist. What kind of sick fuck does that to such a young, upstanding man?”

 He lunged at her at her words but she already knew what he was planning. With a quick sidestep, she used his momentum to slam his head into the elevator wall behind her with a sickening crunch; his body folding in on its self. “That should put you out of the equation for when my punishment comes. Men, so easily fooled. It must be my height that makes them underestimate me,” she mumbled to herself with a shrug of her shoulders.

 Several moments later, the elevator door opened to reveal a Victorian style office decorated in dark tones. An older Italian sat behind the ornate oak desk positioned in the middle of the round room. “I see ya dispatched my son,” he stated in a gravelly voice.

 “Sorry, Mr. Travis. You know how it gets when I’m around and you know I was never one to take any shit,” she said as she made her way into the room and sat down in one of the matching chairs in front of the desk. “You know why I’m here.”

 He nodded. “Ta, Nicky. I know why you’re here. It’s been, what, nearly 9 years since I last saw ya. How was Japan?”

 “It was nine years two days ago. I wouldn’t think you would forget the death of your youngest son though…”

 “Well, I have come to terms with the fact that my sons were right bastards. Apparently Tony was a women beater but I didn’t find that out until my wife died 6 years ago…”

 She flinched at his words. No one had told her Mrs. Travis had passed away. “I found myself missing Grandma’s ravioli while I was in Japan. As you can imagine, it’s hard to find good Italian over there. The fresh, cheap sushi made up for it though.”

 I’m so sorry Jake…

 He smiled weakly at her. “You were, are, like the daughter Lily could never have to me. If Michi were still alive, I would tell him that he did a bloody fine job raising you…so here’s what I’m going to do. Even though my son was a slimeball to ya, ya did kill him and ya did break your exile so I’m, unfortunately, going to have my guys beat the shit out ya. I’m also going to turn over Tony’s trust fund to ya. Don’t worry! The money that goes into it was gained through legitimate means and you’ll have full legal control over it so even if I die no one can take possession of it. The least I can do is have ya made since you’re back; to make up for the time I have lost.”

 “What makes you think I’m going to survive long enough to be set?”

 He got up from the desk and headed over to the elevator. He didn’t even bother to turn around when he answered her. “You got Michi Thomas and Morgana Lei blood running through ya and ya put a Faterali 6 feet under AND you had the bollocks to come back to London knowing what was going to happen. You’re scared out of ya wits not because you’re afraid of getting the piss kicked out of ya but ‘cause you’re scared of the lack of control you’ll have while you’re out. I don’t know who ya got in these parts but if they were enough to bring ya back here then I think you shouldn’t be so worried ‘bout it!”

 And with that, he disappeared into the elevator, leaving Niccola feeling a little better about her decision until she saw the five guys Jake sent after her. Then she thought he was full of shit!

[elleberquist6]

Play Upon Me Like This Piano - chapter eighteen

Summary: In many ways, Phil’s life is perfect: he loves his life in London, he has a wonderful brother and parents, and he has a great job as a radio DJ for BBC Radio One. There’s only one thing missing in his life… A rumor reaches an executive at the BBC about a talented local piano player named Daniel. The executive decides that Daniel would be the perfect guest on Phil’s radio show, so she sends Phil to speak with the evasive and mysterious piano player.

When they finally meet, Phil starts to think that he has found the person who will make his life complete. Unfortunately, Dan has a secret that will make getting close to him difficult.

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 1691

Warnings: Smut

—

Siren fact: Competition with the Muses: After some time, Hera came to visit the Sirens on their lonely island. She had heard praise for their songs, full of beauty and anguish, and she was not disappointed by the live performance! So the goddess decided to give the girls a challenge. She invited them to enter a singing contest against the nine muses. After consulting together, the Sirens agreed to enter the contest. Of course, they had heard of the Muses’ legendary music, but they also knew that the power of their own songs.

The competition produced some of the most haunting music that the Greeks had ever heard, with the Sirens pouring all of their arresting heartache into their music. Still, the Muses—goddesses of music, where the Sirens were mere mortals—won the competition. To celebrate, they plucked out the Sirens’ feathers and made crowns for themselves. The Sirens returned to their island in humiliation. [https://mythology.net/greek/greek-creatures/siren/]

By the time Dan finished his coffee, the pain killers had kicked in and he felt more like himself. After putting the empty mug in the sink, he walked to the bathroom to see if Phil had an unopened toothbrush he could use. He found one in a linen closet with the towels and tore open the package. When he was spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, he heard Phil’s alarm clock going off in the next room. As he rinsed his mouth, the alarm stopped making noise and he knew that Phil must be awake.

Dan looked at his reflection in the mirror. There was a smile on his face, put there at just the thought of seeing Phil. Dan hastily combed his fingers through his tangled fringe, wanting to look good when Phil saw him this morning, but his fingers got caught in the dried blood he hadn’t realized was clumping his curls. He winced and the motion tugged at his sore scalp as he extracted his fingers from the knots.

Sighing, Dan gave up on the idea of looking good. It’s not as if fixing his hair would improve his looks much, since his forehead under the curls was black and blue around the cut. Really though, Phil had seen him at his worst last night. Hopefully the morning after wouldn’t come as a shock. Dan was startled from his thought when the bathroom door was flung open. Phil stood in the doorway, gaping at Dan for a moment before sucking in a shuddering breath. He had a funny look on his face as he continued to stare.

Dan asked, “What is it?”

“I didn’t know where you were.” Phil swallowed heavily before continuing, “I woke up, and you weren’t there. I didn’t know what had happened to you.”

“Oh, Phil, I’m fine.” He stepped closer to give Phil a hug, but Phil leaned in for a kiss instead.

Phil’s lips were warm and soft, and the kiss was gentle. When Phil leaned pulled back from the kiss, his eyes roved over Dan’s face. Dan was watching Phil carefully too, seeing how he had relaxed a bit but still looked worried. He lifted a hand like he wanted to touch Dan’s face, yet didn’t want to hurt him and his eyes lingered on the bruise. Phil asked, “How do you feel?”

Dan shrugged. “I woke up with a headache, but it went away after I took some pills and had some coffee. I feel okay.”

Phil bit his bottom lip. “Maybe I should call out from work? I’m supposed to leave soon, but I can…”

Dan smiled and shook his head. “Go to work. I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just take a nap, and when you get home…” Dan’s eyes widened as he realized he had made an assumption. Would Phil feel comfortable leaving Dan here in his home? This was only the first time Dan had spent the night here, so maybe not. If he couldn’t stay here, where would he go? Not to his own apartment, where the psycho might be waiting. Nowhere else seemed safe. Tentatively, Dan asked, “Is it okay if I stay?”

Phil leaned in to place a kiss very softly on Dan’s cheek. Then he said, “Of course. You can stay as long as you like. And it would make me happy to thing that you’ll be here when I get home from work.”

“I’ll be here,” Dan said with a smile.

After Phil went to work, Dan knew what he wanted to do – he located Phil’s game console in the living room and started playing Mario Kart. Whenever he felt frustrated, nothing helped him to relax more than kicking the asses of random strangers online on Mario Kart. As he joined an online race, Dan smiled. He was picturing the possibility that perhaps he and Phil had unknowingly crossed paths in this way before. Or they may have even been nearer than they thought before, since they both lived in London.

That’s not to say that they met before – Dan felt sure that if he had seen Phil he would remember him – but he liked the idea of them both moving around the city, perhaps standing in the same line at Starbucks, or sitting a row apart in the movie theater, or just randomly walking down the street. As they unknowingly passed nearer and nearer to each other, they moved like ships in the sea being pulled by the current until they finally came to this common destination. The thought warmed Dan’s heart. It felt like fate.

Dan’s phone rung, startling him from his thoughts. The game was on the menu screen, so he just muted it before answering his phone. He hadn’t bothered to check the caller ID, and his heart pounded as he realized it might be the police calling to tell him that they had caught the man who tried to kidnap him. In a breathy voice, Dan asked, “Hello? Who’s calling?”

“Dan! It’s me, Robert.”

“Robert?” Dan’s voice rose in surprise. While he had been forced to see Robert at the bar where they worked, they hadn’t spoken a word to each other since the day Robert accused him of not caring about music and Dan had flipped him off. Unsure why he was calling, Dan asked, “Do you need something?”

“Just calling to check up on you, man. The police knocked on my door this morning to ask me if I saw anything suspicious last night. They told me that someone attacked you! Are you okay?”

“Oh…” Dan’s eyes got a bit misty as Robert’s concern touched him. “I’m going to be alright. Thanks for asking.”

“I am so sorry. I wish I hadn’t let you go outside alone. I could have left the bar with you when you walked home. If I had, then you would have been safe.” Dan started to make a sound of protest because that was ridiculous, but Robert talked over him, “And the worst part was that I saw that bastard! I noticed him staring at the door when you went in the back. He was obviously waiting for you and it was suspicious, but I didn’t do anything! Dan, I’m so sorry. Don’t worry, I gave the police a good description – they’re going to catch this guy.”

“Thanks, Robert. And please don’t blame yourself. None of this was your fault.” Dan bit his lip as he thought about what he’d said to the doctor and Phil at the hospital, as he blamed himself for his attacker’s insanity. Phil had been horrified as he said, Don’t you dare think like that. Not for one second. You’re perfect and you’ve done nothing to deserve being treated like this. As he listened to Robert irrationally blame himself, Dan had to wonder if he had sounded the same way. Did that mean that Dan was wrong to blame himself and Phil was right? Was none of this his fault either?

“I’m just glad to hear you’re okay,” Robert said. “You’re not in the hospital? Are you recovering at home?”

“Oh, I’m at Phil’s actually.”

“Phil… wait, the BBC guy?” Robert laughed in surprise. “How did that happen? The last time I spoke to him he said you didn’t like him.”

“Yeah, the BBC guy,” Dan said, and he chewed on his lip as he thought about what he might have done to make Phil think that. Well, the answer to that question was obvious. He told Robert, “I was being an idiot. I realized that after I got to know Phil a bit better recently.”

“He’s seemed like a nice guy whenever we’ve spoken.” There was a pause in the conversation.

Dan could tell that Robert wanted to ask if he and Phil were just friends or more, but he didn’t want to be rude. Appreciating that Robert wasn’t being nosy, Dan offered, “Yeah, Phil’s a really nice guy. The nicest guy I’ve been with in… well, my whole life. He’s great.”

“That’s awesome,” Robert said with an audible smile. “He sounds like just the sort of person you need in your life right now. I’m glad you’ve got someone like him around, taking care of you.”

“I’m glad, too,” Dan said, thinking about how amazing Phil had been.

There was a pause before Robert said, “Listen, I’ve got to go. But give me a call if you hear from the police please? I want to know the second they catch this bastard. If it seems like they’re not giving your case the attention it deserves, they’re going to get a complaint from me.”

“I’ll call you,” Dan assured him. “And I’ll see you the next time I come to work. Bye!”

As Dan hung up the phone, his stomach squirmed at the thought of going back to work. He couldn’t go back until this kidnapper was caught. He couldn’t even go home. He didn’t feel safe and the only thing grounding him right now was Phil.

Thinking of the note on the calendar on Phil’s fridge, Dan resolved to ask him about it when Phil got home. He couldn’t be alone right now.