#things you must see in peru

[wanderlustphotosblog]

15 Spectacular Things to do in Peru for Visitors

Between its rich culture, incredible cuisine, and breathtaking landscapes, the country of Peru has been captivating travelers for centuries. Before you plan your trip, review my list of the top 15 things to do in Peru.

What else can I say about Peru other than it is a country filled with both beauty and wonder? So much so that it can be difficult to narrow down the top things to do in Peru when visiting. No matter what, any list has to start with Machu Picchu. It is one of the world’s most breathtaking landmarks and one of just seven “Wonders of the World”. If you’d like to see this spectacular sight, you can…

[pluckyredhead]

Character Profile: Gregorio de la Vega and Hugh Dawkins (Extraño and Tasmanian Devil)

I was thinking that it's been too long since I've done a character profile, and then I realized that I don't think I've ever posted about DC's CANONICALLY MARRIED, HISTORICALLY SIGNIFICANT DILFS, a.k.a. Wizard Daddy and his furry husband. I'm so sorry. I've failed you all.

ANYWAY MEET GREGORIO AND HUGH:

Gregorio (on the right) is the first out superhero in comics, ever, from before the Comics Code even allowed gay characters. Hugh is DC's third gay superhero (Pied Piper came out a year before him) and the first canonically queer member of the Justice League. See? Historically significant!

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobia, racial stereotypes, attempted suicide, HIV/AIDS, and some particularly gory fridging (Hugh got better).

Gregorio de la Vega first appeared in Millennium #2. Now, they never actually use the word "gay" in the eight issue Millennium miniseries, but, well...

No, seriously, despite the fact that they never use words like "gay" or "homosexual" in the pages of the comic itself, the art and dialogue make Gregorio's sexuality very clear - and in case that wasn't enough, the editors do use the word "gay" in the letter columns.

Millennium was an event in which the Guardians and the Zamarons identified a group of diverse humans to be "the vanguard of human evolution" and gave them all superpowers. Gregorio is hanging out in a cantina in Peru when they show up to give him the news:

He's calling himself a fruit do you get it??? Honestly I love him so much. He's so extra.

I want to emphasize again how groundbreaking Gregorio is. Like, yes, obviously he is a raging stereotype and arguably a problematic one. But this was 1988. The Comics Code Authority would not be updated to permit queer characters until the following year (probably because of Gregorio, in large part). The fact that he existed at all, and not cloaked in layers upon layers of subtext, was a huge step forward. No, he's not perfect, but when you're the only canonically queer superhero in mainstream comics, that's an impossible ask.

Anyway. Gregorio's not super into the idea of being a main character at first, but after a self-loathing suicide attempt (Wally saves him), he decides fuck it, why not be a superhero, and joins the team that will become the New Guardians. He's granted his superpowers, which are generic magic ones, and takes the codename Extraño.

Unfortunately, in the spinoff series that followed Millennium, New Guardians, things get...uh...kind of rough. By which I mean that a) the original writer left, b) the new writer dialed Gregorio's gay stereotyping waaay back in favor of, um, Latino stereotyping instead (he stops calling everyone "honey" and starts calling them "amigo"), and c) the team is attacked by the Hemo-Goblin, an HIV-positive white supremacist vampire. Yes, really. It's fucking awful.

The Hemo-Goblin scratches Gregorio and bites Jet, a Black woman on the team. They both subsequently test positive for HIV. There are many letters from fans pointing out that it's nearly impossible to contract HIV that way, but the editors insisted that actually it was totally plausible, and then implied that probably Gregorio already had HIV because he was gay (even though he had tested negative earlier in the book). Then Jet dies. Again: it's fucking awful.

New Guardians was canceled soon after that and Gregorio pretty much disappeared. By the 2000s, he was viewed as basically an embarrassment, if anyone even remembered him at all: so stereotypical, so flamboyant, so offensive, so cringe. In the Love Is Love anthology, everyone's least favorite human Dan DiDio wrote a story where he claimed that Extraño died of AIDS back in the 80s, which...literally wasn't true??? The publisher of the goddamn company and even he assumed that the Cringey Stereotype must have died the Stereotypical Death.

And then in 2016, Gregorio got a makeover, courtesy of Steve Orlando and Fernando Blanco:

HELLO.

Yeah, so Gregorio is a silver fox now who hangs out with Apollo and Midnighter, does wizard shit, and lives in Lima with his husband and their adopted daughter. SO LET'S TALK ABOUT THAT HUSBAND:

Could you tell he's Australian???

Hugh Dawkins, a.k.a. Tasmanian Devil (no relation to the Looney Tunes character except that they are both owned by WB and, obviously, Tasmanian) actually first appeared in the Super Friends tie-in comics to the cartoon of the same name, in 1977, as part of a plotline where the Justice League teamed up with a bunch of international superheroes.

As you can see above, Hugh, like the other international superheroes, is a massive stereotype. He's also a were-Tasmanian devil who can grow really big, like many Australians. (Even though he's been around for 50 years, there are very few panels of Hugh in human form, but if you need to know for reasons of all the fanfic I hope you are about to write: he's blond.)

In the late 80s, Hugh and the other international superheroes from this story were incorporated into the main DCU as a team called the Global Guardians. They became occasional supporting characters to the various Justice League International books, and some of them joined various Justice League branches. Others had random cameos here and there, and in a 1992 issue of Justice League Quarterly, Hugh's random cameo involved casually mentioning that he is gay:

Again, this is a big deal. It's only 1992, meaning the only canonically queer superheroes in mainstream comics are Extraño (1988), Pied Piper (1991), and Northstar (1992). And this is a Justice League book. AND IT'S 1992. When Hugh talks about things being hateful for gays, he's likely referring to the virulent homophobia in Tasmania at the time (homosexuality wouldn't be decriminalized there for another five years).

Which means it was also a big deal that Hugh went on to join the European branch of the Justice League shortly after this, making him the first canonically queer member of any branch of the League. Of course, his sexuality was never mentioned during the year and a half he was on the team...or in any comic...until 2006. And then it was a vaguely homophobic joke involving Hal Jordan. But still!

(There is a panel that I SWEAR exists from the JLI era of Hugh describing a total bullshit version of his origin which granted him "the power of 106 Tasmanian devils!" which I cannot for the life of me find but was the first thing that made me fall in love with this character. If you stumble across it, please let me know what issue number it is?)

Hugh then had the misfortune of next appearing...sort of...in the infamously awful Cry for Justice in 2009. I say sort of because it's revealed that the villain, Prometheus, has skinned him and turned him into a rug. So we only see his skin. The late 2000s were really, really rough, guys.

However, a year later he appeared in the Starman/Congorilla special and he was totally fine? Don't ask me how. Gorillas were involved. The issue ended with the possibility of him and Starman (the Mikaal Tomas version) hooking up, but then the New 52 happened, so that never came to anything.

...BUT WHO CARES, BECAUSE NOW HE'S MARRIED TO GREGORIO AND THEY HAVE A DAUGHTER AND THEY ARE IN LOVE.

The nickname! The clutching! I'm dying.

Did I mention the canon threesome with John Constantine?

HUGH LOVES HIS RIDICULOUS HUSBAND SO MUCH. Tragically the JLQ only showed up in these two stories but all the baby queer superheroes in the DCU call Gregorio "Tio" and it makes me want to weep. HE WAS ALL ALONE IN 1988 AND NOW HE HAS A FAMILY. I AM VERKLEMPT. 😭😭😭

Unfortunately Gregorio and Hugh are pretty much relegated to occasionally appearing in Pride specials these days, but maybe if we all wish really hard, DC will let Steve Orlando or Andrew Wheeler write a miniseries about how they met and fell in love. I think Nick Robles should draw it.

ANYWAY I LOVE THESE HISTORICALLY SIGNIFICANT HUSBANDS, THE END.

[chronicangel]

Pacifica Northwest's Sweet Sixteen

Link to this fic on AO3. Words: 4169 Date posted: October 17, 2024

Summary:

You are invited to the greatest party of the century!

When Pacifica wakes up, it’s still dark out.

She reaches over instinctively to turn off her alarm before she realizes that her alarm isn’t going off, and then she just stares up at the silk canopy over her bed. She must have had a nightmare, but she can’t remember it. That’s good, she thinks. It’s always harder to get back to sleep when she remembers them.

She picks up her phone to squint at the time. 5:03 AM. Happy birthday to me, she thinks, rolling her eyes. She’d check her social media, but it’s too early for any of the other people who actually care about her birthday to have said anything to her, and she doesn’t want to scroll through all of the pictures of happy families and families pretending to be happy for the holiday. She’s going to get plenty of that at home today, she thinks.

As much as she’d begged and pleaded for Susan to let her work today, her boss had rightfully pointed out that even if the diner wasn’t closed for the day to give all of the other employees time off with their families, they wouldn’t have any customers. No escaping her parents, then. They probably wouldn’t have reacted well if she tried to skip their party, anyway.

You are invited to the greatest party of the century! Celebrate Gravity Falls’ own winter miracle with us once again at the annual Northwest Winter Gala, Christmas and a birthday all wrapped into one. This year’s theme: Sweet 16. Colors are champagne, lavender, and the Canadian dollar. Gifts are mandatory.

She wanted to puke when her mother handed her the invites along with the guest list and told her the envelopes had to be in her handwriting as if she’d had any choice in who was coming.

She gives up on getting back to sleep. It was stupid to think she’d be able to in the first place. She almost never can, and her birthday is an especially miserable occasion. She still remembers when Mom used to wake her up at midnight with a slice of chocolate cake that she was absolutely not allowed to eat in bed, back when her parents still pretended to like her.

Despite the drafts of snow she can see through her bedroom window, her room is nice and toasty when she throws the blankets off. She used to have her own fireplace. It was probably a safety hazard, but she liked sitting in front of it to read on late winter nights.

She glares at her closet. The dress her mother has picked for her this evening looks like the middle step between a wedding dress and the sort of dress you stuff a toddler into for Easter pictures. She hates it, but she knows not wearing it will be a bigger issue than it’s worth.

For now, she skips right past it to put on winter clothes instead. Fleece-lined leggings, fluffy socks made from alpaca wool imported from Peru, a turtleneck that had been knitted for her by the Austrian prince’s grandmother, and a coat she bought with her own money during their last ski trip to the Alps make up the basics of her outfit, and by the time she gets downstairs and to the front door, they’re joined by a scarf that feels like running water in her hands and luxury brand hiking boots made from shell cordovan.

There’s something so refreshing about the gust of cold air that hits her face when she steps outside, immediately whipping her bangs into her eyes. It is not a still or quiet morning in Gravity Falls. After they had lost the mansion, they moved into a new one in the closest thing Gravity Falls has to “the suburbs,” and there is no big hill or private patch of forest to block the wind from biting at her nose and fingertips. She sucks in a deep breath of it and watches it fog up in front of her as she exhales.

Maybe it’s because she’s a winter baby, but she’s always found the cold weather so grounding. When her boots sink into the snow and it threatens to pour over the top against her socks, that’s when the world feels the most real.

The woods are never far in Gravity Falls even if your family doesn’t own their own private portion of the forest, and when every other scent has been crowded out by pine and the snow is in a thinner layer on the ground because it has too many tree branches to get through to pile up, that’s when she really relaxes. She thinks she can’t have been walking for more than twenty or thirty minutes, and a quick glance at her phone confirms it. Her hair isn’t being thrown around by the wind anymore, safe within the barrier of the trees, but the damage has already been done. She can practically hear her mom’s temper tantrum about what a tangled mess it is, but that’s a problem for later. This moment, right now? This is just for her.

She closes her eyes and takes another deep breath. There’s a richer smell to the forest with her eyes closed. Snow doesn’t smell exactly like rain, but there’s a hint of that earthy smell, wet trees and wet grass and wet dirt all drinking up whatever they can before they freeze solid. She walks until she finds a place to sit down, a knocked-over log that’s frozen over with just a little bit of snow, and she figures it’s not a big deal if her pants get wet because she has to change before the party anyway. Mom and Dad aren’t going to like it, she thinks, but rather than the anxiety that would have gnawed at her only a few years ago at that idea, it only brings a smile to her lips. The only thing that would make this moment better is a cup of coffee.

She doesn’t know how long she just sits there like that, soaking in the peace of a winter morning. She thinks the snow must have stopped, because there aren’t even stray flurries rushing between branches anymore. Her fingers are bright red, and she can barely feel them. She should have put gloves on before she left.

Eventually, she sees the sun starting to peek over the tops of the trees, casting a golden glow on the whole forest. More than that—the snow on the ground reflects the light in a gleaming rainbow that shimmers over the entire ground. She picks her phone up to take a picture, and once she’s snapped a few that she likes, her eyes catch on a few notifications.

Mabel Pines 🌟: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!!!! 🩷💜💙💖💖💫🌠🦙🌲🎄Mabel Pines 🌟: omg i still cannot beLIEVE that your birthday is CHRISTMASWendy Corduroy : happy birthday, dude! hope your family is less terrible this year.Dipper 💙: Happy Birthday, Paz. I’ll call you later, ok?

She snorts. Dipper texts like such a middle-aged dad. Still, as she goes through replying to them, she tells him that she’s looking forward to it.

And she is. Even though the twins haven’t visited Gravity Falls in-person since that summer when they were 12, they’ve been a near-constant presence in her life since then. She calls Dipper in the middle of the night when she has nightmares and can’t get back to sleep (and he never seems to be able to get to sleep in the first place), she and Mabel send each other at least fifty selfies with a million filters each per day, and she jokes about running away to see them in Piedmont at least twice a week most weeks.

She hadn’t even realized that she was smiling until it drops when her mother’s caller ID pops up on the screen, and she answers before it even has the opportunity to ring and disrupt the serenity of the forest. “Where are you?” Her mother practically shrieks on the other end of the line. “We told you that we were doing birthday breakfast promptly at eight o’clock.”

Pacifica pulls the phone away from her ear to check the time and winces. It’s almost 7:45. There’s no way she’ll be able to get back to the house by eight. “Sorry, Mom,” she says when she presses the phone back to her ear, not feeling very sorry at all. “I guess I lost track of time.”

“Doing what?” Priscilla demands. Before Pacifica has the opportunity to answer, though, she continues, “Oh, it doesn’t matter. Just get your ass back here, young lady.”

It’s always bad when Mom swears. Priscilla Northwest insists that swearing is improper and unattractive, and that if you can’t get your point across without harsh language, you’re too dim-witted for high society. Pacifica thinks that most people think she and her mother are too dim-witted for high society anyway, and that if she cares so much about seeming intelligent, she probably should have spent the years curating a different image.

“Okay,” she says simply. She doesn’t apologize again before hanging up, just presses the button and hops to her feet. The cold has sunk into her bones by now, even through all of that expensive winter clothing, and it takes closer to an hour to get back to the house. It’s hard for her to feel very apologetic, though, when her mother immediately starts fussing about how dirty her clothes are and how tangled her hair is and not the almost blue color of her fingertips.

It takes hours to get ready for the party, and she doesn’t know where all of the time even goes. Hair, makeup, clothes, decorations, food, all of these things were settled so far in advance, so how can it still take until almost noon to get it all in order? By the time of the party, Pacifica is so tired she can barely muster up the energy to smile at the right people and make the right kinds of small talk. She’s sure it hardly helps that she doesn’t even like most of these people, and the few she does like don’t really like her back.

By the time dinner is being served (each attendee gets their own roasted quail and a side of rice pilaf), the only thing she wants to do is run away and hide in her room. She does the next best thing: lounging on a chaise in the parlor her parents keep their still-lightly-mud-stained white rug in when they have guests over, where people are strictly forbidden to enter, scrolling through Tittat videos on her phone. When she hears the door creak open, she knows it must be one of her parents, and she’s not sure which one she wants to see less.

“I have something for you,” her mother’s voice says, and Pacifca doesn’t really have to fight not to cringe because she’s been suppressing it her whole life, but she still feels something curl up unpleasantly inside her. Great, so I have to pretend to be grateful now.

“Mom, I thought that we were doing presents after dessert,” she says, as though it’s actually possible Priscilla forgot her overstuffed itinerary for the night.

“Well, I can’t give you this one in front of everyone else,” Priscilla huffs, and that only makes Pacifica’s dread grow. When her mother sits at the foot of the chaise, she holds out a wine glass, and Pacifica stares. “I want you to meet my friend Chardonnay.”

“Mom, I’m turning sixteen. I’m still not old enough to drink.”

Priscilla rolls her eyes. “Oh hush. I’m doing something nice for you.”

Pacifica doesn’t exactly know how giving her a glass of wine is doing something nice for her, but she knows better than to argue at this point. She takes the glass and takes a tentative sip. She doesn’t have any of the fancy adjectives to describe a very expensive glass of wine. She doesn’t know anything about tannins or acidity or barrel aging or whatever.

It’s bitter. She can’t completely stop herself from cringing, and Priscilla laughs at her. “Yep, I remember that. It’s terrible, isn’t it?” Pacifica stares again. Her mother gave her bad wine on purpose? “You get used to it, eventually. You’re going to have to, being a member of this family. It’s the only way to get through these awful parties.”

“You don’t like the parties?”

Her mother laughs again, and there’s a bitter note there that she hardly recognizes. “Goodness no. Does anyone?” Pacifica’s brows pinch together. Then why do we keep having them? She wants to ask. “Sweetheart, I know being a Northwest isn’t easy. When I first married your father, I was petrified by all of the… rules and systems. I was sure I’d never be able to learn all of it.”

Priscilla stares down into her own glass of wine, and Pacifica watches her face. There’s a slight flush to her cheeks and nose that Pacifica is familiar with after a lifetime of exposure. She must be drunk already, which is impressive, because her father strictly forbids cracking the wine open before dinner at parties. Day-drinking is a private pastime, something Pacifica supposes isn’t classy enough to be associated with the Northwests.

“But it’s for our own good, right? These are the things that we have to do to maintain our lifestyle. And isn’t that worth it?” This is not a light Pacifica has ever seen her mother in before. Never before in her life has she ever been given any reason to think that Priscilla might resent all of the conventions they’ve been forced into as much as Pacifica does. You just don’t get it, she’d told Dipper once, and maybe she doesn’t get it either.

“The day you were born, your father and I still hadn’t chosen a name for you,” her mother says, and if there was some segue into the topic, Pacifica missed it in her introspection. It seems more likely that there wasn’t any. “We knew that we wanted it to start with a ‘P’ because both of our names did. That’s the sort of opportunity that doesn’t come up very often, you know. We figured early on that you would be our only child, so we might as well make you stand out, right? But it was almost impossible to find a name suitably dramatic. And then you were born on Christmas and everything was so hectic, and we worried you were going to end up with no name at all.”

Pacifica settles back against the chaise and takes another sip from her wine, and she manages to ignore the taste for how interested she is in her mother’s story. “They put you in my arms and you immediately started crying, and I thought, ‘Great, she already hates me.’” She laughs, but there’s an edge to it, something that jabs painfully at Pacifica’s chest. “But after a minute you calmed down, and then you looked up at me with those big blue eyes, and I thought they looked just like the ocean. ��The Pacific ocean,’ I thought, and then I grinned at your father. Pacifica Northwest. It sounded like an actress’ name. It was perfect.”

They stare at each other for a long, silent minute, and Pacifica’s brows furrow. What was the point of telling her this? Was there any point, or is it just some of Mom’s drunken rambling? Priscilla reaches out to grab a strand of her hair and opens her mouth to talk some more, but she’s cut off by Pacifica’s phone ringing, and Pacifica startles to angle the phone so the screen isn’t visible because she knows exactly who’s calling and her mother does not need to see. “I’ll let you get that. Cake in 30 minutes, okay sweetheart?”

“Okay,” she agrees, and her heart pounds with anxiety that she’s going to miss the call while she waits for Mom to leave the room before she answers. She almost drops the phone in her rush to finally hit the green button.

“Hey!” Dipper’s voice comes through a little tinny, which is a quality that Pacifica is used to when talking on the phone to anyone outside of Gravity Falls. She doesn’t know if there’s a scientific explanation, but it always feels like the rest of the world is just… dulled.

“Hey,” she says back, and whatever clawing sense of anxiety or discomfort had been lingering in her chest since Mom came into the room finally dissipates. “You’re early, I’m gonna have to go for cake and presents soon.”

“Your parents are giving you cake and presents?”

She snorts, bringing her hand up like she can catch the noise before it reaches him. “There’s still a whole party of people here to convince that we’re a happy family.”

“Ah, that explains it then,” he says, and she can hear the grin on his voice. He needs to get with the times and get a uPhone so she can see his face without going all the way upstairs to get on her computer. “So you don’t know which kind of sports car they got you yet?”

She laughs again as she hops up to her feet and starts the trek back to her room. “Oh please. They’re not going to get me a car. That’d be too much freedom. They couldn’t threaten not to let the chauffeur drive me to work anymore.” She rolls her eyes.

“They have to get you a car. It’s the whole sweet 16 package: Big fancy party with your big fancy dress, a bunch of bratty rich girls you can’t stand, and some luxury vehicle that costs more than my house. If they don’t get you a car, they don’t sell it.”

“Oh shut up,” she laughs, bedroom door swinging shut behind her. She glances at her bed for a second, but if she lays down, she’s not going to get up again, and as nice as the idea of falling asleep talking to Dipper sounds, there’s still the rest of the party to get through. As she sinks into her desk chair, she sighs and says, “Did you do anything for the holiday?”

“Oh, you mean Just Some Friday Day? Yeah, we got Chinese food and watched cheesy romcoms. I guess it’s sort of a stereotype, but I think that’s kind of why we do it in the first place? It���s hard to explain.”

“Just Some Friday Day, huh? Wow, so I mean nothing to you.” He practically cackles on the other end, and she grins.

“Right, how could I forget the most important holiday, Pacifica Northwest’s Birthday? That’s why all the banks were closed.”

“Damn straight. What would they even need to be open for? All of the people with money are in my living room.” Another laugh. She sinks back in the chair, pressing the power button on her desktop with her toes as she asks, “Can I call you on DistantChat?”

“Is that such a good idea with your parents still prowling around downstairs?” He asks, with a legitimate tinge of worry to his voice. “I mean, you know I always like seeing you, but I don’t wanna get you in trouble or anything.”

“Oh come on. It’s my birthday, they can’t yell at me for calling a friend. Plus, there’s too many people still here for them to yell at me.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, and then, “...Okay. Let me get my laptop.”

It takes a minute for him to get everything set up, and they stay on the phone while he does even though it’s mostly Dipper mumbling to himself and the rustling of pieces of paper on his desk. When he calls her, he’s in bed, and he’s not wearing that stupid hat for once, so she can see peeks of his birthmark through his fringe.

“You need a haircut,” is the first thing that comes out of her mouth, without any input from her on the matter, and he laughs.

“You sound like Grunkle Stan. That was the first thing he said when we picked him and Great Uncle Ford up at the docks for Channukah. Kid, you need a haircut.” His impression of his uncle is terrible, and it makes her laugh, throwing her head back and her hand over her mouth.

When she’s done, his cheeks are a little flushed, but she can’t really call him out on it because her cheeks are a little flushed, too, so they sit in silence for a minute. “I like the dress,” he says eventually.

The camera quality of the call isn’t great. In the video, the delicate white lace that makes it look as though there are flowers painted directly onto her chest and shoulders just look like blurry polka dots (where they’re even visible), and the lace stops being visible completely at the sweetheart neckline of the bodice portion of the dress. Not only that, but from the angle of the camera, the silky lavender band around her waist isn’t even visible, nor is the princess-style skirt that fluffs out down her body in an A-line that could give Princess Diana’s wedding dress a run for its money if it wasn’t only tea length. But, more importantly…

“Ugh, this? My mom picked it.”

“Well, as much as I hate to admit it, your mom was right. It looks really good on you,” he says, and she sees his cheeks flush a little darker. Again, not that she can say anything.

“...Thanks.” She still doesn’t love the dress, still wishes Mom had let her buy the hot pink one that was half the price, but it’s nice that Dipper likes it. She wants him to like her clothes.

They return to silence, and she thinks of all the things she’d like to say. She wants to joke that he should see how much better it’d look off of her. She wants to ask him what he got her for her birthday just to see his little panicked reaction. She wants to ask him if she can run away to his house in Piedmont and never come back.

Instead, she just watches his face. He always looks so tired these days, and she wonders if he ever sleeps at all if she’s not on the phone with him. She knows that sometimes he doesn’t get to sleep even when she is on the phone with him. Sometimes she wakes up and the time is still ticking on the call and he seems startled when she mumbles good morning.

“Pacifica!” Mom’s voice calls up the stairs, and she almost jumps out of her skin. “It’s time for the cake and the presents, dear,” she says, and the pet name makes her wrinkle her nose.

“I have to go,” she says. She’d rather do anything in the world than hang up, and she thinks it shows, because Dipper looks more than a little guilty.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just sit here staring at you,” he says, and if she didn’t have to go she’d probably tease him for it. “Let me know what kind of car you get. I bet it’ll be an Edison. Your dad is just like that guy.”

She laughs. “Can I call you again later? Like, for bed or… something?” She asks, speaking quickly so he can’t hear the desperation in her voice.

“Of course,” he says without even a second of hesitation, and it makes her chest squeeze with fondness.

She ends the call without saying goodbye. She usually does. She hates saying goodbye, and it’s not like she won’t talk to him later, anyway. Still, she lingers at her desk for an extra second after the call is over like she’s waiting for him to call her back and scold her for it or something. She knows that he won’t. Even though they joke a lot about how terrible she used to be, Dipper rarely takes it upon himself to correct her for her social missteps, not unless she directly hurts him or Mabel by it.

Her eyes slide down to her desk drawer, and with a paranoid glance at her door, she pulls it open.

Emancipation papers.

Printing them out had marked her very first use of the Gravity Falls Library, a service her parents believed was for poor people. Once they’re filed, she guesses that’ll be her. It’d be nice if they bought me a car before I was out of here.

“Pacifica! What are you doing up there? You’re keeping everyone waiting.”

She shoves the drawer closed and trudges back downstairs.

They don’t get her a car. Giving her that much control over her own life would be against the rules, wouldn’t it? But when she calls Dipper later that night, he assures her that she’s welcome to use his car whenever she wants once she gets out of there, and she knows that he means it.

[penny-anna]

hi everyone guess what time it is THATS RIGHT its fic rec time

Slowly but Also Like All at Once by putaposyinyourhair

"Any sign of Knuckles?” He huffs out a soft breath of air, mentally cycling through the answers that are starting to feel almost programmed by this point. Kris, he ain’t coming back. Kris, he’s gone, man. Kris, stop asking me shit I don’t have the answers to, dude. Instead he goes with something a little more sensitive. “Negative.”

AU based on the ending of Rise of the Beasts. tragically not updated for over a year but MUCH to chew on here & i must share this excerpt:

“Look, man, I can explain—” “Noah,” Reek begins again, tentatively�� like he’s about to ask something that even he can’t quite believe he’s going to ask. “Did you fuck that car?” Noah damn nearly chokes on his own tongue.

Personal Space by Neon_Honeycomb

“Are you okay?” Cool, smooth metal presses against his face before he can even register Mirage moving, shattering the memory that’s slowly engulfing him until it dissipates entirely. He’s left staring again at the metal beams above, the backdrop of yellow clouds far behind them, and the movement of a single tree branch swaying just within sight. “Only you would have a roof fall on you and then ask if I’m the one that’s okay.” Noah and Mirage get trapped under a pile of rubble together. While waiting for someone to come free them, they get... comfortable.

its ur classic premise <3

lose my mind by Donts

“Do I turn you on, Noah?” Mirage murmurs lowly. Noah sucks in a breath, dropping his hands and opening his eyes, gazing at Mirage’s optics with surprise. Mirage is looking at him with a smug grin, and oh fuck. or 5 times Noah masturbates because of Mirage, and 1 time Mirage helps him out.

ohhh thats the good filth!!

A flickering spark, his unwavering spirit by caelleth

“We were… friends, weren’t we?” The words left his vocals before he could quell them, and Noah considered them before he could regain his wits enough to take them back. “...Yeah. We were friends.” His head turned, and he tore his gaze away from the mech, leaving Mirage to stare at his dust-fettered curls, struggling to find any words in this planet’s limited language that could ever hope to describe the unbearable mix of guilt and yearning and grief and above all that, unyielding hope that bubbled through his chassis. But it seemed no amount of words ever could, Cybertronian or otherwise. “I can see why,” was all he said to the human. (Or, the trials and tribulations of repairing a Cybertronian.)

another AU based on the ending of the movie. ohh this was a great time. the first Mirage POV chapter is a particular highlight.

Manhandled by SadVibez

Mirage picks Noah up to grab something on a shelf. Things quickly turn not so PG-13.

manhandling :)

An Old Mech Worries For A Human by SadVibez

During the fight in Peru, Noah was hurt after being dropped by Scourge. He hasn't told anyone and with Mirage to not fret over him, no one has noticed. Well, almost no one. Optimus notices Noah in pain and the two have a small talk.

a rare non-shippy fic. ohh i love a 'this character should have been injured let's talk about that' fic

Tactile Intimacy by BunnyFair

When Mirage makes an expected engine noise, Noah has to investigate and give his friend a thorough check up. Popping his hood, he soon discovers the world of tactile interfacing.

tactile interfacing for u!!!

human junk by Secretkept (KaiNinjagoo)

After a few nights of Noah sleeping in the garage, Mirage notices something he hasn’t seen before (PENIS)

firstly can i just say, summary of all time, i've been thinking about (PENIS) for weeks. secondly: great series feat. sexless robot Mirage & Noah navigating their relationship. love the realism of this one. great time.

Exposure Therapy by Neon_Honeycomb

“You’re not made of metal. I— I don’t know the limits of what you’re made of. I don’t know how much is safe contact, and when it turns into— when you— when I—” This is the part where Noah is supposed to get it. The part where he’s supposed to understand the depth of what Mirage has just told him, where he realizes the danger he’s in if Mirage so much as simply moves wrong at the wrong moment, the moment where he lets go and never comes near him again. He waits; waits for it all to click into place in that biological processor of his, waits for the moment he pulls his hands back to himself, waits for his face to morph into entirely justified fear. “I could break you, Noah, I could…” He’s not prepared for Noah’s expression to go soft. There's only one way for someone to learn how much strength to use when handling something, and that's through experience.

screaming yelling throwing up wailing sobbing:

Noah doesn’t break. He doesn’t immediately start leaking red, his face doesn’t even pinch like Mirage has seen him do when he gets hurt. And somehow that makes it so much worse when Noah looks up at him, looking just as good as he had a moment ago, completely fine, only for him to say, “Right there. That’s how hard it takes to start hurting.” like it’s no big deal at all.

[cosyvelvetorchid]

I finally finished it!

15k+ word, Buck 2.0, Tommy 1.5, smutty with a bit of fluff fic.

To be completely honest, I’m not entirely happy with it—I’ve certainly written better fics. But if I didn’t get it finished and up it would never be posted.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it and soothes your little bucktommy broken hearts 🩶

**********

Word count: 15,537

Rated: E

Excerpt:

Buck wasn’t exactly sure of his sexuality. For most of his life he was straight—women were what he wanted. And he wanted them. A lot of them. There was a time where he actually considered that he might be a sex addict.

Really, he was just searching for something. He didn’t know what, or where he would find it, just knew that there was a hole somewhere inside of him that something was supposed to fit within.

And then he met up with some old buddies he’d met in Peru, went to a bar, had way too many drinks, and before he knew it he was in a dark corner with a guys tongue down his throat. It was sloppy and wet and didn’t lead to anything more but suddenly, that thing that Buck had been searching for his whole life; the illusive unknown and unidentifiable something that was missing, was clear as day.

That was three months ago. He hadn’t said a word about it to anybody—not his sister, defiantly not his parents and not the 118 either. He wasn’t ashamed of what had happened, but he needed time to for some introspection—to figure out what it really meant for him; what he wanted. Plus, at the time it happened he was a month shy of finishing his probationary year at the 118 and though he’d come along way from stealing engines to hook up, he still wanted to prove that he was worthy of becoming a fully fledged member of the LAFD and that was his primary focus and what he wanted everyone else to see and not his sexuality.

Thankfully he passed his probation and welcomed into the 118 permanently.

*****

Buck couldn't deny that he found Tommy gorgeous. That is, he couldn't deny it now. Tommy had piqued an interest within him when he'd first joined the 118 fourteen months ago, only he was oblivious as to what it was. For a while he'd thought it was jealousy—Tommy was built a little bigger than himself, and just seemed so effortlessly cool.

It was after his drunken kiss with the guy from the bar that he noticed Tommy. His beautiful big blue eyes, those huge biceps, and yeah that ass that you could sink your teeth into. He wasn't exactly crushing on the guy, but he could admire the beauty.

But his personality was an entirely different matter. Everyone gravitated towards Tommy; wanting his approval, inviting him to games or hang outs. Which buck for the life of him couldn’t figure out why. For as excellent as he was at his job, he was also an asshole. At least to Buck. No matter what Buck did it was never right—Tommy always found some way to criticise him. Hen had told him to give Tommy time to warm up to him; that deep down he was a good guy. Must have be really fucking deep because at Buck could not seem to find that good side no matter how hard he tried to find it.

Buck had assumed once he'd passed his probation the attitude would let up. It did not. He was professional when it came to work matters, but beyond that he either sniped at Buck or ignored him entirely. Buck wasn't sure which he'd prefer.

*

Tommy walked into work in a particularly bad mood. He was short with Buck as usual, but he was also equally hot-tempered with everyone. Sal, his partner, had left a few days prior to take up the Captains spot at the 122, and Tommy was clearly not handling it very well.

He'd snapped at Hen for offering to help him clean the engine, he'd sworn at Chimney for dropping a knife near his foot—which didn't even touch him—in the kitchen. And then Buck made the egregious mistake of turning a corner without looking and bumping into Tommy which send his mug of coffee all down Tommy's shirt.

"What the fuck is wrong with you Buckley?! Are those eyes on your face there for just fucking decoration?!" He shoulder barged Buck as he walked past, aggressively stomping towards the bathroom. Buck followed him into the room, despite that voice in the back of his mind telling him it was a bad idea. Tommy was leaning over the sink, running a wet paper towel over the wet stain on his shirt.

"I-I'm really sorry, Tommy. I wasn’t-"

"You weren't what?!" Tommy interrupted curtly. "You weren't paying attention? Surprise surprise the 118 puppy can't pay attention." He snarled.

Buck had been called a few names during his probie year, but none bothered him like "puppy" did. It was just so fucking infantilising.

"Im not a puppy." Buck told him through gritted teeth. He had been slowly growing tired of Tommy's behaviour towards him. He'd put up with it while he was on probation because he understood that you have to earn the trust of firefighters; prove you're not just capable of the job, but that they can safely put their lives in your hands. That trust takes time, and Buck put in a tremendous amount of effort to prove himself.

Everyone else had accepted him. Everyone else had welcomed him into the family. But not Tommy. Tommy had continued to keep him at arms length and it had began pissing Buck off.

Tommy rolled his eyes and scoffed, something he'd done a thousand times, but this time Buck bit back.

"What the hell is your problem with me, Kinard?" He stepped forward; his pulse beginning to rise.

"Do you want a list?" He replied, continuing to rub at his shirt pointlessly as the stain was not going anywhere. He didn't bother looking at Buck.

Actually, a list would be helpful.

"Seriously, what the hell have I done to you?! A little hazing while I was a probie I get but I passed my probation period two fucking months ago! So why are you still acting like a colossal douchebag?!"

Tommy turned his head quickly and his eyes finally met Bucks. His jaw was tense and lips tightly curled. For a moment Buck thought Tommy was about to hit him.

Without warning he stepped forward, grabbed Buck by the scruff of his shirt and pushed forward, slamming Buck into the wall behind. Between the shock of being pushed and the minor winding of being slammed into the wall, Buck lost his ability to speak.

Tommys face was inches from his. His big blue eyes staring hard into Bucks and his hot and rapid breaths fanning his face. Buck immediately felt his pants tightening. It was so fucking ridiculous that this was what turned him on and yet there was his dick pushing against his zipper.

He knew needed to push him off and get out of the bathroom before Tommy noticed how hard he was and used it as more ammunition to treat him like shit. But before the thought had even finished in his mind, Tommy's hand was on Buck belt unbuckling it. His other hand still had hold of Bucks shirt while he pulled down the zipper.

His eyes didn't leave Bucks as his hand reached into his boxers and oh god!

**********

[randomshyperson]

New Romantics - Chapter One - Wanda Maximoff Series

Summary: Trapped in a loveless relationship that has cost her friendships, Wanda watches her senior year of school turn upside down after a party. She will make new friends and may end up learning that not every relationship is doomed to failure.

Warnings: (+16), straight and toxic relationships, making out, underage drinking, language, co-dependency, conversations about insecurity and self-worth, attempted romantic comedy, unrequited love at first, friends to lovers. | Words: 4.236k

Skamverse Collection | Series Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

--//--

Chapter One - Parties and Makeups

“The global mentality is moving toward free world trade and increased market liberalism. A world full of opportunities. A world where dreams can come true. It sounds fantastic, and it is fantastic. For a very small percentage of us. But for the vast, poor majority, the capitalist system only means one thing: death and suffering. While we live out our days thoughtlessly and stuff ourselves with cheap food. The poor people of the earth struggle in factories. Wages are forced down to the minimum, while the work hours keep increasing. Unionization is illegal, and the working conditions are intolerable. Before applauding freedom, we must remember one thing: Our over-consuming society stands on the shoulders of the coffee beans from Peru. We gorge on cheap food produced by underpaid children hands from India[...]”

Novi Grad, Monday, 1:00 pm.

"So what do you think?"

Wanda licked her lips, trying to choose the right words to define the monologue her boyfriend has been reading the last few minutes. Vision stares at her in anticipation.

"It's smart." She says, and he gives a soft laugh.

"Is that all? Don't you think I should change something?"

She sighs, shrugging. "I don't know, it's just good." She murmurs, thinking for a moment before adding. "Maybe exclude cheap food? You used it twice..."

Vision leans over to look at the paper. "No, you see, because that's a technique to emphasize the idea I picked up..."

Wanda stopped listening - Yes, she hated doing it, especially at how often it happened. But her attention was diverted to the other side of the courtyard, where a group of girls was leaving the school building. Most of them didn't notice that Wanda was watching, but one of them did. Eve, once she realized it, assumed an icy expression that made Wanda's stomach churn. The girl next to her was Jean Grey, and as soon as she followed her friend's gaze, she raised her middle finger in Wanda's direction before continuing walking.

Wanda swallowed dryly and looked away. Vision cleared his throat, waving in front of his girlfriend's eyes to attract her attention.

"Hey, don't let that get to you." He tried, leaning in to peck her cheek. "Okay?"

"Forget about it." Wanda forced a smile, kissing him. Vision smiled, enjoying the closure of the subject much more than she did since the one who had to deal with the free hatred was not him. The boy pulled away a little to take a breath before deepening the kiss, but a sheet of paper was placed between their faces and caused them both to jump away.

"No more making out my sister." It was Pietro, shoving the test in their faces. He wasn't alone, Clint Barton was with him, and he was the first to greet Vision. Pietro leaned on the railing behind where they were standing, "How did you go in the Geography assignment?"

Clint greeted Wanda with a kiss on the cheek, and Vision answered the older twin with a proud smile, "I got an A+."

"Typical." Pietro retorted chuckling. "What about you, sestra?"

Wanda sighs, gripping the handle of her backpack tighter as if the crumpled test at the bottom was going to jump out and give away her lie. "Hmm, I got a C minus."

The trio made sounds of trouble, and Wanda rolled her eyes. Pietro gave a little chuckle. "Papa will be so disappointed..." He teased, receiving an impatient sigh in return.

"What about you? Did you get an A?" She inquired. Pietro chuckled.

"No, but I'm an athlete." He reasoned. "I don't need the brains when I have the muscles." The boys thought it was funny but Wanda rolled her eyes at the foolishness.

"Okay, Pietro, keep believing that one."

"Better than having neither..." He teased low, and Clint pulled him out of the range when Wanda threatened to push him into the railing. Vision laughed, holding his girlfriend by the waist.

"We're going to Barton, see you later?" Vision announces, and she takes her attention from her brother who walked a few feet with Clint to the boy in front of her.

"I thought you were going over to my place."

Vision shrugs. "I went to your house yesterday, Wanda. And the day before, and before, and before..."

"I get it." She cuts in with a clumsy laugh. She kisses him quickly. "Call me later?"

He smiles, nodding before kissing her intensely. Pietro gets in the way again, asking him to hurry up. Vision leaves with the boys, and Wanda stands at the school entrance, alone for a few minutes even after they have turned the corner.

Novi Grad, Monday, 8:00 pm.

"Don't forget to feed little Chaos, that stinky cat." 

Wanda smiled at her father's message, typing that she had already done so before turning her face to the other side of the bed, where an orange cat was sleeping heavily. She reached out, and scratched him behind the ears, receiving a purr in return.

"Papa is being mean, you smell good, Chaos." She says to the kitten, who doesn't wake up. Then sounds of door and keys ring out in the apartment, and Wanda leaves her cell phone on the mattress before getting up and leaving the bedroom.

Pietro is dropping off his shoes in the doorway. "Hey, good evening. Is Papa home yet?"

She denies it, hands in her sweatshirt pockets. "Double shift. Were you at Barton until now?"

The boy chuckled shortly, letting his jacket hang down and turning his back to go to the kitchen. "Ne (no), I left hours ago."

Wanda frowned, the image of Vision chatting messages and unanswered calls in her head. "Vis left too? I tried calling him..."

"I don't babysit your boyfriend, Wanda." Pietro cuts her off from the refrigerator door, and she swallows dryly ready to leave the kitchen. He regrets his aggressiveness and sighs. "I left early because Crystal wanted to talk. Or rather, fight. I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

Wanda shakes her head. "No problem. Are you guys okay?"

Pietro takes out the dinner saved for him to heat up in the microwave, shrugging. "She dumped me for the ninth time, but she didn't throw anything at me this time so I'd say that was progress."

Wanda sighs. "What was the problem now?"

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. "I don't know, she saw me talking to the new girl at school and thought I was being too nice. She's as hot as she is crazy."

"Don't be sexist Pietro, it doesn't make you any cooler." Wanda retorts turning her back on him, and the twin rolls his eyes again, focusing on dinner.

Wanda returns to her room, and Chaos is stretching out on her bed. He's lying on top of her cell phone now, and she has to push him slightly to get the device. She tries to call, but Vision doesn't answer like all the other times.

Before she can go back to watching the paused video classes on her laptop, there is someone on her porch.

Wanda rushes over to help her boyfriend get inside.

"Weird, it seems to have gotten harder to do that." He comments on the small tear in his jeans made by the railing and Wanda laughs lightly.

"Maybe you just need to exercise more." She teases, making him chuckle. He kisses her, pushing his way inside, but Wanda pulls away with the excuse that she is helping him take off his backpack and jacket. When he sits down on the bed to pet Chaos before kicking the cat out of the room, Wanda asks. "Where were you?"

Vision begins removing his shoes. "At Barton's."

"Until so late?"

The boy lets out a confused laugh, raising an eyebrow at her. "You know his mother is never home to care. Pretty much like your daddy..."

"I tried calling you." She insists. 

He sighs wearily. "My cell phone died."

"Clint didn't have a charger?"

Vision laughs. "No, Wanda, he couldn't find it or whatever. What's this, huh? Some kind of interrogation?"

She swallows dryly, looking away, "No, I just... I was worried."

"Well, don't be, I'm right here." He retorts with a smile. "And you, well, you're quite far away..."

She laughs shortly, moving closer to sit on his lap. He is the one who initiates the kiss, and she cuts him off when she is starting to get out of breath. "Let me get the door." She gasps as she gets up, and Vision just nods.

But when Wanda returns, he notices the study items next to the laptop on the bed, and there is a test with a red note in his hands, and a little smile on his face. "I thought you said you got a C minus, Miss."

Wanda snatched the paper from his hand with rosy cheeks to the red F who seemed to mock her as much as her boyfriend. "Shut up." She says, and he gives up tormenting her when she kisses him again.

Novi Grad, Wednesday, 9:30 am.

"Hey, Wanda." 

The greeting comes accompanied by a tap on the shoulder because the brunette is wearing headphones. Wanda pulls out both items at once, looking at her colleague, Darcy Lewis, with curiosity.

"Hi, Darcy, good morning."

The one with glasses smiles. "Are you going to the welcome party on Friday? You didn't confirm the invitation on Facebook, and Jane is being a bit uptight about the organization. She and Thor are taking care of the drinks." Wanda superficially recognized the names mentioned, they were popular people at school, but they were not her friends. She looked at the book - Dracula - in her lap for a second before turning back to Darcy.

"I don't know, I'll probably..."

"What, be reading on a Friday night?" The girl interrupts with teasing, but not mean smile. "You know, I have nothing against interesting habits, but the welcome party is the first opportunity to meet new friends at the very beginning of the year. This, and also to show the spirit of solidarity with the new freshmen who will fund our graduation. It’s important they know who you are, even if you have chosen to adopt the position of the emo geek of this school. Right?”

Wanda hesitates, half unsure of what to say about the whole thing. Before she can think how to respond, Jane - who was addressing other tables in the study area - approaches Darcy.

"Can you believe Thor told me that Loki just texted that he's taking some friends? What part of Students only did he not understand? The principal won't be happy to hear that they had strangers at the party." Jane blurts out angrily, offering a forced smile of greeting to Wanda before returning to typing on her cell phone. Darcy clears her throat.

"The end of the world really." Murmurs the one with the glasses. "See you Friday, Maximoff?"

"I think so." Wanda retorts, and Darcy smiles, offering her a wink before leaving with her friend.

Wanda doesn't have much time to get back to reading in peace. The class bell soon rings, and she has to collect her unfinished book to get to the next class.

Novi Grad, Wednesday, 5:41 pm.

Watching Vision play soccer with his friends is never fun, but Wanda doesn't complain anyway.

She busies herself with her book, finding it definitely more interesting than watching the boys, and it is only at the first break that Vision interrupts her.

She complains about the kiss because he is sweaty.

"You look pretty when you're focused, you know that?" he compliments, hands resting at her side. She twitches her nose.

"Am I not pretty at other times?"

He chuckles. "Don't be silly, being pretty is your greatest talent." He retorts, and she forces a smile, trying not to look bothered by the phrase. He doesn't notice, moving away to get a bottle of water. 

The soccer field is not empty, but Wanda doesn't know the kids there besides Clint, and her twin obviously. She has seen some of them, but they were Vis's friends and not hers. So she has a big empty space around her in the stands.

Stealing glances at the surrounding groups of friends and couples, Wanda sighs before turning her gaze back to her boyfriend.

"Vis, will you go with me to the school welcome party?"

He makes a confused face, finishing a large sip of water before retorting, "That cheesy thing? Why do you even want to go to that, we've never attended it before."

She frowns softly. "It's not cheesy. It's important that the freshmen get to know us now, they are responsible for over half of the fundraising for the graduation trip-"

"Didn't your father say he was going to pay for yours?" He interrupts her with a raised eyebrow. 

Wanda sighs. "Yes, but I'm not going to think only of myself-"

"I have money too." He cuts in again shrugging. "Clint works, Pietro is your brother so he's insured too. You don't have to care about a dumb party full of brats, Wanda." He mocks with a chuckle, leaning in to kiss her, but Wanda turns her face away. Vis doesn't notice, distracted by the boys rushing him to get back to playing, and Wanda sighs at the thought that he almost never notices anything that bothers her. 

"I just think it would be nice to meet new people." She murmurs, and he sighs, looking down at the field and nodding that he's going already.

"Well, I guess we could drop in for a few hours, free booze is a nice thing..." He suggests, and her face immediately lights up. Vis extends a hand to her strands of hair. "But you have to do something for me."

She frowns. "What?" 

"Can my brother spend Easter with us?"

Wanda's excited expression drops. "Seriously? Can I bring mine?" She retorts wryly and angrily, closing the book. Vision sighs helplessly.

"Baby, come on..." She rolls her eyes, starting to put things away. "Hey, I know I said I didn't want anyone bothering us, but Dad grounded Tony and I don't want to leave him alone for the whole holiday..."

"If Tony would stop screwing up he wouldn't be grounded." Wanda retorts now standing up, with her backpack in her hands. Vision chuckles, making puppy dog eyes at her. 

"Please, darling. A party for a party." He negotiates, and she rolls her eyes.

"Okay, fine." She agrees, and he grins, grabbing her by the waist to spin her in the air despite her protests. With the delay, Clint approaches them, just as sweaty as his friend.

"Come on man, you two can hook up after the game." Says the boy, busy with the water as Vision lets go of Wanda with little grace, who pulls down the hem of her skirt with her cheeks slightly flushed with embarrassment. 

"I'm celebrating, Wanda has agreed to let Tony spend Easter at her family Cabin." Vision tells. Wanda wryly chuckles:

"Maybe you'd like to come too, it seems the holiday for two has turned into a holiday for everyone." 

Clint chuckles, wiping his mouth before commenting, "How did he convince you, Maximoff?"

She sighs. "He's taking me to the welcoming party on Friday." She says, and Vision shrugs, but Clint frowns.

"Friday? Don't you have that fancy dinner with your dad and the uni people? You haven't shut up about it for months." Clint recalls and Vision puts his hand to his head. 

"Oh, shit, it's true. Baby, I completely forgot..."

"Whatever." She says wearily with her hands in the air lightly. "See you tomorrow, Clint." He said leaving, and Vision patted the back of his friend's head before following his girlfriend.

Novi Grad, Friday, 07:12 pm.

"I'm already at the restaurant, good thing I wore a suit. Try to go to the party, it will be good for you." 

Wanda reread the message for the ninth time, trying to understand what in the last sentence bothered her so much. She sighed, looking at the little Chaos adjusting himself on her bed.

"What do you think, buddy? Do you think I should go to a stupid party?" She asks the cat, who doesn't even meow back. 

Wanda risks checking Instagram, only to be bombarded with pictures in her feed about the school party, which grew in popularity apparently because Loki wasn't the only one who took other than students.

She glanced around her messy room, and at the paused sitcom on her laptop. The Addams Family was not being efficient in distracting her tonight. Vision was at a dinner party with her father's contacts from Europe's top universities, Pietro was sleeping over at Crystal's because they got back together the day before, and Clint was supposed to be working. And there were no other friends.

Wanda forced herself to her feet. She could do this. New friends at a party, right? It shouldn't be that hard.

She got ready in record time and changed from her comfortable sweatshirt into a wine-colored cotton dress. Maybe it didn't scream friendly energy, but it definitely made her look pretty. 

Chaos meowed at her when she stood in front of the mirror, and Wanda thought she was good to go. She texted to Vision that she was going to have fun knowing he wasn't going to answer tonight before she left.

Novi Grad, Friday, 08:40 pm.

Music from the loudspeakers echoed throughout the room. The welcoming committee did a good job, because they had booked the whole night at the Panther Club, two blocks away from the school, and the place was completely full.

Wanda managed to get in at the ticket booth with her school ID and was given a different wristband for being of legal age. She imagined that this would guarantee alcoholic drinks for her inside the bar, but she doubted very much that anyone was respecting these rules of the amount of drunk freshmen around.

She was trying to have a good time. She didn't rely too much on the colorful drink that the bartender said was alcohol-free and decided to enjoy the Club's trademark live music show.

It wasn't exactly her idea of fun, being around hundreds of drunken teenagers, but Wanda tried to ignore the discomfort of her own boots to dance a little. 

It was not a good idea.

She returned to the bar area after three songs way too long for the good health of her toes and was considering leaving when she recognized the red-haired figure only a few feet away.

Jean was waiting for her drink, and saw Wanda out of the corner of her eye, assuming a defensive posture.

"Hi." Wanda greeted, receiving only an icy stare in return before the redhead looked forward again. Wanda sighed, "Jean, please. You can't ignore me forever."

"Not forever, it's already senior year." She retorts coldly, turning her body toward Wanda, one arm resting on the counter. The brunette swallows dryly, but the redhead smiles wickedly, the other hand reaching out to push the strands of brown hair behind the smaller girl's shoulder. "What do you want from me, Maximoff? A chance to stab my back, too?"

Wanda tenses her jaw, her eyes burning. "Please don't be like this." She pleads and takes on courage. "I miss you, you know. And Eve... Please just say something."

Jean licks her lips and tucks a strand of hair behind Wanda's ear before lowering her hands. She looks her in the eyes.

"Next time, try to use less eyeliner. You're looking like a slut." She declares, turning away before Wanda can really process what was said to her.

She feels her throat tighten with the urge to start crying and takes a deep breath. And then she feels a presence behind her.

"Very nice friend you have." Ironizes an unknown voice. Wanda turns around and is surprised by a slightly familiar face. 

You smile and stare back at her. "Did you know that girls who call others girls sluts are statically more likely to get chlamydia?"

Wanda frowns slightly. "Really?"

You grin "No, but it would be fun karma." You say, and it is her turn to chuckle. You then extend your hand to her. "I'm Y/N, we're in the same Literature class."

"Oh, that's right. The new girl." Wanda murmurs finally realizing where she recognizes the face from. "I'm Wanda."

"I know." You retort biting back a smile and when she blinks curiously, you half-heartedly clarify, "Your brother, Pietro, right? He's been very considerate of the new students, even the ones who aren't freshmen. He pointed you out in the courtyard once."

Wanda nods, a little out of frame. She wasn't very good at socializing, especially with those she thought were kind of attractive.

You noticed her distance and cleared your throat. "Just for the record, Wanda, and well, I'm no makeup expert but..." You extended your hand again, this time to her face, wiping with the tip of your finger a bit of eyeliner smeared by the tear she let fall. "I wouldn't say you look slutly, I'd say you look quite beautiful."

You compliment, and Wanda feels a shiver spread through her body. So surprised by her own reaction, she can barely smile back when you do so in farewell, leaving the bar.

She decides to run to the bathroom and check her makeup even though her legs are still shaking a little.

The sound of the party is muffled inside, and Wanda sighs as she sees her own reflection. She wants to believe what you said, but since Jean treated her like that, it's been a little difficult. 

With a wet piece of paper, she carefully removes the eyeliner, and just as she is finishing, she hears a soft cry coming from one of the booths.

Worried, Wanda throws the paper in the trash and follows the sound. "Hello?" she needs to call out another two times for the girl to sniffle and answer.

"Hey."

"Sorry to bother you, but are you okay?" It's kind of a silly question to ask someone who is crying in the bathroom, but it's the best that Wanda handles. And the girl seems to enjoy the kindness.

"Yeah, just... it's stupid." She replies in a small voice.

"Can you open the door for me for a minute?" There is a pause, but the keyhole unlocks and the girl pushes the door slightly. Wanda offers her an understanding expression and pulls her by the hand. "Come, I can help with the smudged makeup." The girl agrees to be led out of the booth, to the sinks. "I'm Wanda, by the way."

"I know, your brother is pretty popular." Mumbles the other one sniffling softly. Wanda smiles, "I'm Yelena. Can you call someone for me? The team captain?"

"Oh, sure." Wanda assures, kind of getting the impression that the girl is kicking her out, kind of uncomfortable with the attention.

She leaves Yelena and heads back to the party, spending a good ten minutes asking about this team captain to the people around - most of them too drunk to know - until finally one of the third-year girls points to a tall boy at the back of the club. "The only captain I know is Steve Rogers, sweetie. That pretty boy over there."

Wanda approached him in a circle of people, it was as uncomfortable as she expected. Steve, at least, seemed like a nice guy and followed her with some concern about that girl crying in the bathroom.

But when Wanda returned, Yelena was not alone. Another blonde girl was finishing helping her with her make-up.

"[...] you and Kate need to stop this push and pull, that's what I think." Advised the stranger. Yelena sighed.

"She left me crying in a bathroom, I'll never speak to her again."

"Come on Yelena..."

"Sorry." Wanda interrupts the interaction with Steve trailing behind her. "I brought your friend, Yelena. The team captain."

The two look at her as if she is crazy. Yelena points to the other, "This is my friend. Carol Danvers, captain of the basketball team."

Steve nods. "What's up, Carol?" he greeted her with a smile half confused by the whole thing. 

"Oh, I didn't know we had more than one...team." Wanda mumbles clumsily, and Yelena sighs half impatiently.

"Look, thanks anyway, it's the thought that counts. But we were in the middle of a conversation here..."

"God, you're so rude when you're mad at Kate." Carol complains. "Come on, Natasha was looking for you. Thanks again, sweetie." The blonde pulls her friend out of the bathroom, and Wanda decides she has had enough for the night.

She makes her way out of the bar, but on the street, she realizes that Steve Rogers has followed her the whole way.

"Hey, sorry, are you Jarvis Stark's girlfriend?" He asks and she takes her time assimilating her boyfriend's real name instead of the nickname everyone has used since elementary school. 

"Yeah, why?"

Steve smiles awkwardly. "Any chance you have his brother's number?"

Wanda has a good few seconds of pure surprise before muttering that she really wasn't talking to Tony. The blond gets a little disappointed but forces a smile. 

"Sorry, see you at school." She babbles, honestly tired from this night.

[pixiecaps]

after many streams and qsmp members talkin about it… i set off on a mission. like a typical weekday i woke up early to do groceries and i hit up my local latin supermarket. i bought ingredients to make hallacas.. but thats another rough journey that lies ahead. i then focus all my attention on what i really came here for. my grand mission. finding the Guaraná. the brazilian soda i had heard so much about mainly from philza minecraft as this british man seemed enamored by it.

i head for the soda aisle and begin searching. i pass by the american sodas and in a cool movie voice say, “this isnt about you.” i walk forth and pass by Jarritos, Frescolitas, Inca Cola, and so many many more. Doom and gloom sets in as i reach the end of the aisle and i find everything EXCEPT THE GUARANÁ. i begin to think how could this have happened? theres clearly something afoot. i must have missed something. anything. an overstimulated and rather depressed pixiecaps is left to do the only damn thing that i know in this world. i walk towards the eggnog as this shall surely cure my woes.. and then i spot it. an empty shopping cart with but one item inside. the Guaraná. all my crushed dreams and hopes are revived. its here. it exists somewhere in this damn market. the lady who’s shopping cart it belongs walks past and a very socially inept pixiecaps proceeds to not ask her where she found it. i instead gawk at her soda like a predator spotting its prey and frankly she probably thought i was fucking weird. i politely nod and walk away with a reinvigorated spirit. i will find that fucking soda if its the last thing i do.

just then i recall moments prior when i was standing at the venezuelan section looking at the candies and sweets of my childhood. reminiscing of the time i told a bunch of tumblr bloggers about these same treats. and then it hits me. how could i have been such a fool? the brazil section.

now ive been to this market a million times now and never have i ever seen a brazil section but that didnt stop me from searching. i pass honduras, i pass peru, i pass haiti, and then i see it. like the light at the end of the tunnel. “BRAZIL 🇧🇷” now i wont lie it was in the complete opposite area of the venezuelan section so i believe thats why i have never seen it in my entire life. but finally the end of my journey had arrived as i zoom in on my target. the Guaraná. i cheer, i dance, i cry.. internally. i physically pick up the box, put it in my cart, and mosey my way to the checkout line.

my entire life has led up to this very moment… i crack it open… i take a sip…

8/10

[platadesangre]

we NEED to talk about jcs 1975 madrid cast!

i have come to make camilo sesto justice

(i finally finished this post yay!)

i may be a bit biased, since this was my first jcs.

short story on how i discovered it

my dad used to be an apostle for a bootleg staged playback jcs in peru during the 70s! they used this version.

he had the cd. he also had the mp3 files. i used his computer, so that was how 13 year old me found it.

those were tough times, bc later i started doing catechesis and i kind of got depressed and started questioning my faith lol. judas' character really resonated with me

since this is a recording, i didn't have any footage to reference, so i made up everything in my mind. (this is why it was a bit weird for me to see the english productions, bc they looked nothing like in my head lol)

now, a bit of historical context for spain in the 70's

camilo sesto was a popular spanish singer and actor who went to see the jcs 1971 broadway production in london. he loved it so much that he did everything he could do financially to bring the show to spain.

spain was in a fascist dictatorship at the time

they fought with censorship for years, that's why the lyrics are a bit different (i'll make a post about that too)

they had to remodel the alcalá-palace theater stage entirely

franco (our dictator) died two days after the premiere (about time lol)

the "ultras" (conservatists) didn't like the show so they did lots of crazy stuff (for example, praying for the cast outside the theater or sending BOMB THREATHS?)

anyways, this was the first official translation for jcs!

on the main cast we have

camilo sesto as jesus christ (he wanted the role from the beggining)

teddy bautista as judas iscariot

ángela carrasco as mary magdalene

here's an old pic of them (and some apostles)

(now that i look at it closely, it kind of looks like a bootleg jcs 1973 lol)

on the recording

it's a stereo recording, so use both headphones or you'll miss out on half of it

musically speaking, it's similar to the og concept album (songs ending on fade-outs and shorter trial before pilate) but it has some interesting choices (teddy, the producer and the voice of judas, took a lot of... artistic liberties)

some things this version has

it adds lots of synth. it's very psychodelic. i understand this can be a turn off for some people

they kinda change the key to many songs. maybe to fit vocal ranges idk

teddy just loves to make up new melodies (please give this man some water)

EPIC GUITAR SOLO in what's the buzz

what's the buzz and strange thing mystifying are separated tracks for some reason

camilo sings so good

cute synth in everything's alright ángela has such an angelic voice she makes such a good mary

the drums and guitars during this jesus must die are so danceable

the BEST simon zealotes i've heard. shit goes HARD. he goes CRAY

i really love this pilate, in my rating he would be the best one

camilo's "¡SALVAOS VOSOTROS!" during the temple is really pathetic lol

damned for all time interlude replaced by synths. the SAX SOLO is also replaced by synth (questionable choice)

cool thing happens during the end of this song that i'll talk about in another post

judas' occasional nervous laughter really adds to his character

also he cries a lot

"you sad pathetic man" part during last supper is... fairly different! (i'm looking at you teddy...)

camilo's gethsemane is epic. he's a baladist singer but MAN he can ROCK

cool harmonica during the arrest

i'll never shut up about our pilate (he nervous laughs too)

herod is so fruity

judas' death really hits different when you were depressed and questioning faith (this version is BRUTAL) also lyrics change (i'll talk about it i swear)

teddy's one of the few judas who sing the i don't know how to love him reprise in the higher scale!! it sounds so painful and anguished

the album continues acceptably

other cool things it has

jesus and judas have this interesting accent difference. since camilo is from valencia, he has this pristine and traditional spanish accent. and teddy is from canarias (also lived in the usa) so his accent is rougher and more, crusty? idk how to explain it but it's neat and stablishes their dynamic a bit. (ángela is from dominican republic! but her accent is barely noticeable)

on the footage aspect, we only have old vhs videos and live audios uploaded on youtube. also some old photos

there is a book about this version. it has some anecdotes (only available in spanish)

now we have a 4 episode mini-series about the odyssey that it was to produce this. it's called "camilo superstar" (i won't be watching it bc it's a bit fan-ficy from what i've seen)

the posts i'll make about this production will be tagged as #jcs 1975 madrid

you can listen to it on spotify!

or on youtube (playlist made by me)

[stitched-mouth]

Madame Web Production BS

Just to be clear, I love this movie. But I love talking about what a dumpster fire it was behind the scenes so let me point everything wrong with my favourite of the year so far. SPOILERS!

• Cass’s personality is not fleshed out… that’s a major problem. I feel like they just told Dakota Johnson to do what she wants the whole movie BUT then right at they end they decide to give Cass a personality completely ripped from the comics. And it doesn’t work with the way Dakota was playing her the whole movie and these no character development over the course of the movie, so it’s actually a little scary seeing her switch at the end.

• None of the characters have a personality actually. The villain was the worst to be fair because I still don’t really understand his motives. Like… you tricked and murdered a pregnant woman and a few others because your family was poor? And you think Spidey strength will fix that? Um, ok. So is mine but I don’t know.. wouldn’t kill anybody over it though.

• I hate Sydney Sweeney’s image. And it’s not her or her marketing teams fault. It’s her fans’ and her directors. She’s constantly purposely dressed sexy in movies (even when dressed down like a nerd, she’s still sexualised) but then is playing a child. Like wtf. They did it to her in Euphoria and they’ve done it to her again in Madame Web. And how Sydney dresses for press also is clearly influenced by directors and fans’, like the look isn’t just what they want for her characters but also how she’s expected to be irl too. It’s kind of sick and related to how paedophilic things are still normalised in our society today, I’ll have to say that rant for another day though.

• Why does it feel like nobody cared about this movie? The script feels like the first draft that was supposed to have rewrites but nobody was bothered. Same with the editing, everything but especially the dialogue and music feels so placeholder, why was it in the finished project? Like even the Google cast page is not finished, only the leads have their character names on there. Zosia Mament (the villain’s assistant) is credited as fucking ‘Actress’.

• Why was Cassie able to fly to Peru when she’s a wanted criminal? Why is she flying to Peru when talking about laying low because she’s a WANTED CRIMINAL??!

• The writers constantly forgetting what year it is was hilarious and the editors just throwing one Brittney Spears song in and a few Beyonce billboards in to cover up their mistake is also hilarious.

• ACTUALLY, apparently the whole reason the movie was set in 2003 was because the director really wanted to use Toxic in the movie. Because apparently you can’t play a song in a movie if the movie doesn’t take place in the same year the song was released 🤡

• BUT Toxic was released in 2004 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

• The writers taking the time setting as a opportunity to reference Garfield’s Spider-Man but then also forgetting that that SM was born in 1995 🤡🤡🤡🤡

• Yes I checked, they specifically wanted to reference Garfield’s Spidey, but through editing they realised their mistake and started trying to make it look like they were talking about Tom Holland’s SM instead, which risks breaking some rules with Marvel… AND THAT SPIDEY WAS BORN IN 2001 SO THEY STILL FUCKED UP. The fact that a simple Google and common sense (like they must of know Garfield’s fist SM movie took place in 2012 and if he was born in 2003, he would of been only 9 years old in 2012 😑) would of fixed this problem is again hilarious.

• Obviously the biggest goof was Dakota Johnson not realising she’s not in a Marvel movie and firing her agent the same day the trailer got dropped 🤡

• She also might be in trouble for posting the teaser on her Instagram and tagging Marvel before the trailer dropped (so before she found out), but I don’t think Dakota manages her own socials tbh. That post was removed then put back up without a Marvel tag.

• The press tour is amazingly bad, I love it.

• Not seeing the girls turn or become heroes was probably the worst part about this movie but I knew that going in so didn’t mind too much. But the real issue is with how Sony keeps straight up lying to their audience with their trailers. Obviously some studios add somethings into their trailer to create more interest for the audience but that’s not what Sony is doing, they are straight up LYING. And they do it so often now I want to fight whoever is in charge of that, they are the reason this movie flopped.

• Them and the writers… and whoever decided to hire the Morbius writers again, everyone there deserves to lose their jobs.

• The only reason I want this movie to do well is because I want Madame Web to have more movies with Dakota Johnson, Sydney Sweeney, Adam Scott, Isabella Mercer, Emma Roberts and Celeste O’Connor all returning. But I really don’t see that happening now, I can’t see Dakota signing another contract with Sony or doing everything to get out of this contract if it’s not over yet.

• The fact that they had to dub the villain’s lines makes me so confused to why he was hired? He didn’t even give a good performance, not saying he’s a bad actor (I’ve heard he’s great on other movies), but he really didn’t do anything in MW.

• And the part with the FBI agent and the villain had me so confused too. Like, did she seduce him to find out information about him? Because it makes sense that the FBI would be suspicious of this guy. But then did he see through her act and decide to at least get laid before killing her and stealing her passcode? But everyone is saying he seduce her for her passcodes and yeah I’m confused.

• The problem is the pacing and how everything that needs explaining isn’t, but everything that doesn’t need an explanation IS explained. And too much.

“He worked with my Mom in this place looking for this spider right before she died”

That’s not the exact quote but it’s pretty close to and that’s less than 5 minutes in. Ok thanks spoiling the whole movie to me. I really didn’t know a movie could spoil the movie to me.

• I’ll add more to this post when I remember more bs this movie endured or forced me to endure, feel free to add to this list in the comments or reposts.

[ninjaofnaps]

Through the Star Field for You

OK! Here is my first attempt at fanfiction. Hopefully, it's enjoyable. I'm using it to warm up and dust off my writing skills. I also posted this on A03

I've enjoyed reading all the great fanfictions out there from people like @aislingdmdt @eridanidreams @bearlytolerant @spookyspecterino

I'm definitely looking for prompts, so feel free to send any my way.

Through the Star Field for You

The blackness gradually faded as she heard indistinct voices, far-off sounding as if from the other end of a tunnel. Where was she? The world was fuzzy as she tried to open her eyes. Oh wow, that was a mistake; her head hurt. Actually, her whole friggin body hurt. Where was she? The voices became intelligible, and Ves closed her eyes again, trying to focus on their words through the pain.

"And this new Dusty was the miner you sent in there?" a lilting English woman's accent.

A stronger female voice clips back, "No, that is not the new Dusty I sent in there. That's what I'm trying to tell you. My Dusty went in, and when we lost communication with him, we went to see what happened and found… her."

There was a pause, like the woman with the accent was trying to understand what had just been said. In the background, Ves heard a faint clicking and beeping of what she thought to be medical equipment. "So let me understand this. You're saying you let a new miner go in there to dig up the priceless artifact Barrett hired you to look for. You left him alone, and when you saw fit to finally check on him, he wasn't there, but she was? Have you found the other miner? Is that Argos suit she's wearing the same one the miner wore? You have to understand how utterly bizarre this sounds, correct?"

A sigh of exasperation from the other woman before, "I know how crazy this sounds; I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it myself. The new Dusy went in after the thing, "artifact," whatever, that Barrett wanted. We lost coms, went to see what happened, and the Dusty was gone! She was lying there in the Dusty's suit with that odd metal thing in her hand, out cold. So we called Barrett."

"So you lost your miner and could have lost the artifact in the process? Why was a miner in training looking for an item of this value to begin with? Could you be more incompetent? Exactly what kind of outfit are you running here?"

A deep male voice jumps in. "Hey guys, calm down. We'll get answers soon enough. Her vitals are shifting, Sarah. It looks like she's waking up."

Ves blinked and opened her eyes one at a time; her sight was clearer now but still not normal. A man in a spacesuit without a helmet creeps into her vision, "Hey there, sleeping beauty. How ya feelin'?"

"Everything hurts, but I'm alive, I think. Where am I? Who are you?"

The man's face splits into an award-winning smile as he says, "I'm Barrett, and you're on Vectera. Let's start with something simple. What's your name, and how'd you end up on this rock?"

Vectera? Ves has no idea what country that is and blinks dumbly at him, replying, "I'm a U.S. citizen." The curiosity in his eyes deepened as he pushed for more specifics. "The U.S? I think you really must have bumped your head in there. I think you mean U.C. as in United Colonies?" With a touch of exasperation, Ves responded, "No, I mean U.S., I'm a United States Citizen. I've never heard of the United Colonies. I was in South America on an archeology field project, a new temple discovered underground in Sama, Peru. I assume you're with search and rescue? There must have been a cave-in or something. I remember reaching for an object in the temple when things just went…" Ves trailed off, trying to make sense of the things she remembered, the lights, the sounds, the feeling like she'd been pulled through the universe, but the pain in her head increased the more she tried.

His dark complexion paled a bit as shock registered on his features, and he glanced over in the direction of the female voices she'd heard. With tentative concern lighting his eyes, he turned back to her and asked, "What year is it?" She slowly, painfully sat up and responded, "It's 2025, obviously." Her response met silence. The air hung with a hint of mystery, as if her words had woven an unexpected thread into the room's atmosphere. Using a hand to shade her eyes from the glaring overhead light, she glanced around; Ves noticed 3 people besides Barrett staring at her like she'd grown an extra head. "What?" She asked.

The shorter blonde woman with the English accent spoke, her stern expression softening a bit, "Barrett, have you given her a Med Pack yet? She may actually have taken a blow to the head in there. Let's try that before we ask her any more questions. "

Before applying the Med Pack, he asked if she would be okay with it, explaining that the medicine within the pack would help ease and heal any pain or injuries her body might be experiencing. Hesitant, she weighed her confusion with the current situation against the throbbing ache in her head. Eventually, her body's discomfort won out, a sense of uneasy surrender creeping in. It surprised her that she was willing to trust these people at all; it must be the bizarre circumstances that demanded a level of acceptance from her she wasn't usually willing to give.

In a flash, the Med Pack chased away any lingering pain and fatigue, leaving Ves wondering what exactly was in that little injector and if it was addictive. Feeling better than she had in years, she was torn from her internal thoughts by the stiff blonde woman; she thought Barrett had called her Sarah, who repeated the question about the year. Annoyance flared in Ves to this stupid line of questioning. Just as she began to respond, a sudden commotion erupted outside. The distant sounds of people yelling, a popping that sounded like gunshots, and chaos filled the air. Before worry could take seed in Ves, someone burst into the room shouting in a panicked voice, "Lin, the Crimson Fleet is here!"

Things happened so fast; it was all a blur to Ves. Everyone was racing to put on their helmets and started arming themselves. Vest jolted as a helmet was shoved into her hands; looking up, she saw Barrett giving her a smile that could charm the skin off a snake. Grabbing a pistol and holding it up, he asked, "Know how to use one of these?" She nodded a yes, and his smile grew as he said, "Good. Feel up to a little firefight? Those are pirates out there, and they aren't exactly known for taking prisoners." Pursing her lips, Ves looked at the gun again, then responded, "I've never been one to shy away from danger." "Good," he said, handing her the pistol and an extra clip. She checked to make sure it was locked and loaded before grabbing his arm. She pointed at the helmet and said, "I'll need help with this, though." Laughing, he mumbled something about her definitely not being from this time because even a 5-year-old knows how to get a spacesuit helmet on.

As the airlock door swung open into the dark night of an industrial setting, she stepped out into the heart of chaos. Instinct took over as she ducked into cover, her fingers quickly assessing the grip's texture and the gun's weight. Adrenaline kicked in, and she was in motion in a heartbeat, responding to the threat with an innate fluidity that felt almost meditative. Without thought, she swiftly dispatched three pirates, moving with a practiced killer's precision and skill. Swiftly sliding from one cover and rolling to another, making critical shots as she did. By the time she'd made it halfway across the platform, she managed to pick up a combat knife by sneaking up behind an unwitting pirate, grabbing the knife from his thigh sheath, and using his own weapon against him in a swift, fluid motion that spoke of ruthless efficiency. He was dead before he knew she was there and before his body even hit the ground. The edges blurred for her as she seamlessly incapacitated one adversary after another, dropping spent weapons and picking up new ones as she went. The actions seemed strangely natural, like she'd done this before, been in this exact situation before. Movement and survival overtook her until there was nothing but an eerie silence. In the aftermath, a mix of shock and disgust at the skill she didn't know she possessed overtook her as she stood there, gun in hand. The red-clad bodies of the Crimson Fleet littered the tarmac before her.

The silence was palpable as people came out from their cover, all eyes on her. Ves felt strangely embarrassed as the last of the adrenaline left her body. Barrett and Sarah approached her. The skin near his eyes crinkled in a knowing smile as he glanced at the gun in her hand, then back at her, saying, "Boy, you weren't kidding when you said you could use that. I knew I sensed something special in you when I saw you. And I think we may just be seeing the tip of the iceberg." Sarah looked less thrilled and more cautious than before. "Where did you learn how to do that? Ex-military?" Ves shook her head no. "I… I'm not really sure. I learned self-defense and guns a bit over time. I mean, I travel for work, to remote places as a woman alone. It always seemed smart to know a bit of self-defense." Looking back at the bodies, she said, stumbling over her words, "But… this… I, I didn't know I could do this." A slight tremor started in her hands as she dropped the gun she was holding. "We need to get you somewhere safe before figuring out exactly who or what you are. I say we head back to Constellation and get you some rest and a medical workup before we figure all this out." Numb to the overwhelming situation at hand, you nodded your acquiescence. A brief conversation with Barrett and Sarah followed; the former decided to stay behind and assist Lin, who seemed to be in charge of the mining camp, with the remnants of the pirate attack.

Questioning her reality, Ves followed Sarah to the ship. A starship. Her mind stumbled across the thought as she tried to believe what she was seeing, a fucking starship? Directing her to a cot on board the small ship, Sarah advised her to get some sleep on their short trip. Clumisly removing her helmet and stumbling out of the space suit, she collapsed into the cot, squeezing her eyes shut against the tumbling thoughts. When Ves finally opened her eyes, her breath hitched. Directly above her was a window out into the star field. A swirling mass of galaxies on an endless black highlighted with greys, twinkling whites, strokes of soft blues, and pinks that twirled in an infinite pattern that could only have been crafted by a master artist's hand. She'd only ever seen photos from NASA like this, yet here it was before her, real as could be and more beautiful than she ever imagined. As the soothing darkness of sleep overtook her, the last thoughts drifting through her head were of the frightening and extraordinary reality she had found herself in.

[studywgabi]

Hey Tim and Gwen, Want to Adopt Me?

My mother loves performing support for Gus Walz (isn't he so awesome? he's your same age, you know) as if she hasn’t yelled at me in public for crying. As if her version of gentleness isn't reminding me that she had it so much worse. As if she doesn't need to apologize for all the "basta ya"s or the "no te agas la loca"s. As if she wouldn’t immediately yank my arm down if I had stood up and cheered for my father, with that same brute force that somehow still took me by surprise every morning when she brushed my hair, moving my head and shoulders and pulling through the tangles with more strength than you think would fit in her body. As if she never scared me, sent me running for the refuge of the closet or under the desk with Fufu the dog clutched to my chest

When that old man harassed us, and I burst into tears, and the response was "oh, baby, that was nothing like what happens in Peru." When I had an allergic reaction and asked to go outside for air, and the people stared while she screamed. When I drop and break something and I'm not allowed to cry, when she suddenly springs a schedule change on me and I'm not allowed to panic, when I'm autistic and it doesn't suit her mood that day.

But I don't spend enough time with her. I don't tell her about my life, I don't invite her to things, I never do anything for her and I always blow her off. I talk back. I'm so disrespectful. I'm just like those spoiled white girls on T.V. I'm turning out just like Julissa's daughter with the pink hair. I didn't used to be this way. Those friends of mine are a bad influence on me. I shouldn't treat her this way. I must think I can say whatever I want to her. She's the mom and I'm the child and I have to listen to her.

Is she even capable of wondering why I don't want to be around her?

I wanted anything but to "reject" her. I wanted her in my life, I wanted her at my doctor's appointments, I wanted her to be my mother and I wanted to be her daughter. Me, not Rory Gilmore or my brother. I wanted her to like me as much as she likes some random kid she's never met. I was begging for her to see me and to hear me and to parent me, and she showed me time and time again that she is not able to love the child in her home. She can love a neurodivergent child only as long as they're not hers. Gus isn't difficult. Gus isn't too particular. Gus isn't lazy or rude. She's here for Gus. She cares about him.

No, she never hit me. She was very careful never to do anything that she couldn't justify to herself by saying that I'm exaggerating, that I'm too sensitive, or simply that because she doesn't remember it, it didn't happen. I remember, I feel. I didn't make the decision to stop talking to her because she was a little too rough brushing my hair, or because she spoke a little too harshly to me when she was stressed. I did it because of a million little things that happened over 18 years that I will carry with me for the rest of my life. No matter what she believes, my experiences did happen. If she's ever ready, I will be waiting to talk, to listen, and to love her. I am not holding my breath.

[djarins-cyare]

Hi, Jem! Sending you a Secret Springs postcard from beneath the stars! It's beautiful, but my time with this caravan is almost up and I must pass it along to a friend to take on a new adventure... my gut tells me the next lucky recipient is you!

Something exciting to know about this camper: it can teleport! You can take it anywhere on Earth, no worries about fuel, landing permits, which side of the road you'll have to drive on, whether it will fit into a parking space in a city, etc. — we're talking about a magic vehicle here!

Assuming our lovely Mayor El is able to find a replacement childminder for all those summer campers (I'll ready up the brib—I mean, I'll speak to her very respectfully and offer to help out in his stead), where do you think you might like to take Din to see and why?

🌸 M @toomanytookas

Hi M! Thanks for the postcard , and sorry it’s taken me — holy crap — almost 3 weeks to respond 😭 But my tardy reply is because I’ve been spending a wonderful few weeks with Din in the magical teleporting caravan!

Since Din isn’t from Earth, and since our camper could actually teleport, he asked me to take him to places unique to Earth so he could experience the best of the planet. It was a tall order given we’re a planet of diverse cultures and climes, but after much discussion, we took the magical teleporting caravan to see the Seven Wonders of the World!

We started with Petra in Jordan, and after I told him it was in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, we ended up watching it that evening.

Then we visited the Great Wall of China, but Din didn’t get my jokes about Pero Tovar, so that night’s movie was The Great Wall (he liked the character!).

On to the Colosseum in Italy we went, and we watched Gladiator that evening (I showed him the trailer for the second movie and he’s keen to see it!).

Next was Chichén Itzá in Mexico, and we had a romantic night in watching Against All Odds (abandoned it halfway through following a *ahem* particular scene, as we had other things on our minds 😏).

We then followed that up with a trip to Machu Picchu in Peru, and later experienced some cinematic history by watching The Secret of the Incas. The llama did not join us.

After that, we went to the Taj Mahal in India, and Din was fascinated why someone would build such a lavish mausoleum, so we watched Taj Mahal: An Eternal Love Story, and held hands all the way through 🥹.

Our last stop was the most modern Wonder, Christ the Redeemer in Brazil, and by this point I was running out of films featuring the Wonders, so we ended our trip with some Disney watching Rio, which features the famous monument but is also a fitting tribute to the urge to discover the world 💖

All in all, we had a fantastic time! Thanks for sending the magical camper our way, and I hope you had an equally amazing vacation in it! ✨

[fictional-love-is-my-life]

While I understand some like Noah and saying he is better than sam, I meant Noah offering g himself to go to Peru but I think peoples forgetting when sam first time meet Autobots he is ordinary 16 , and of course he scare and really trying stay away from Autobots but unfortunately the condition forced sam to fight to. And Noah is like 20s and have military experience and well adult stuff, he understand things.

Again I understand why they said Noah is better than sam but my problem is that they compared sam angry with Autobots when they accidentally destroy his dad yard with how Noah buy parking tickets to all Autobots. Now I know what they want to say 'sam is cheap or stingy and Noah is generous' but are they forgetting that Autobots literally destroy his dad (basically his but not really) yard that you need pay like 100- 1000 dollars, of course sam is angry specially if his dad blame him. And yes Noah maybe not rich and he in conditions need money but how much Noah must pay for parking anyway in 1994? It's not many as yard fixing. So please if they want comparing playing they must really make sense.

I don't think one is better than the other. I know everyone has their favorite human companions and everyone can and does like one better. But I think they are both great.

They have their similarities and differences.

I mean, when both of them first encountered a Transformer they both wanted to leave and run away. Neither was interested in getting involved. But they got roped into it, and eventually they both fell into the role and both started to care about the bots. That's a similarity they have.

The differences are their skills. Yes Noah is a trained soldier and Sam is not. Noah was able to join and help in the fight and was a much better fighter because of his training. I really enjoyed seeing him actually fight. Sam didn't have a fighting background, but that didn't stop him. He adapted, he used his other strengths in the battles. He was a fast runner, he was dedicated and willing to help in whatever way he could. They had different skills, but they are both strong, capable, brave and wanting to help.

Sam was a teenager so he didn't have money no. But I feel like Nest probably paid for most of the damage the bots did. Noah worked and paid for the parking tickets but he didn't have to, he chose to because it was a nice thing to do. Plus I'm pretty sure if Sam did have money then he absolutely would have paid for things the bots broke. I don't think Sam is cheap, he just didn't have the funds at that time.

They are similar and different in good ways. And also, they gave us different stories. If every human companion was the same every time it would get really boring. I love seeing different humans with different stories interacting with the bots. There will still be people that say one is better than the other. But personally I think they are both great, they are different and brilliant in their own way.

[tropes-and-tales]

I Promise I’ve Got You

December 13:  Snuggle/Book - There was only one bed (Horacio Carrillo x F!reader)

(From the winter prompts found here)

CW:  Angst; past talk of sexual encounters; convoluted situations; no editing whatsoever, I’m posting straight from the first draft like a psycho.  

Word Count:  1493

AN:  This is a sequel to this!

AN2:  Requested by anon!  Posting early because tomorrow is a busy day and I’ll be offline for most of it!

After the bust, Carrillo is supposed to fly with you directly to Medellín.  On the plane, he undoes your handcuffs and drops some of the routine.  The pilot is U.S. Army, contracted by the CIA, and likely isn’t in the pay of Escobar.

It should be an easy trip home, but weather—a brewing storm, fast-moving—forces a landing in Peru.  Plenty of pilots chanced the Andes in bad weather.  The mountains were strewn with the wreckage of their planes.

The place Carrillo finds barely even qualifies as a hotel:  it’s more like a bed and breakfast, a family-run affair with the family taking up all of the bedrooms except the one you are able to book for the night.  The pilot opted to stay at the tiny airfield and sleep in the hangar, unwilling to part from his plane.  

The weather should clear over the next few hours, so Carrillo only has to pass the single night—

“Take the room,” he murmurs.  “I’ll see if they would mind me taking the couch....”

He trails off when he sees the hurt in your eyes.  Hurt, now, on top of the exhaustion you must feel after being undercover for so long.

Hurt and exhaustion and not a bit of fight left in you.  Before being UC, you would have challenged him, put your hands on your hips and stared him down and demanded that he talk to you, because him offering to sleep separately was not like him at all…

“Yeah, sure,” you say.  There an exhaustion in your voice too, a weary resignation he’s never heard before.  It frightens him:  you’re usually so indefatigable, so tireless.  A cheerleader for the team when spirits flag, and now you’re so far from that person you were, Carrillo barely recognizes you.

“Unless,” he adds softly.  “Unless you don’t mind me staying with you?”

The question between the two of you, always hovering but never given a voice.  What are you, exactly, to each other?  An easy lay, early on.  Both needing release, both discreet enough to keep the hook-up situation going.  But the line blurred in his head while you were UC—he worried about you constantly, and he knows he can’t go back to what the two of you were before.

He has no idea how you feel, but you finally nod at him, then hold your bedroom door open for him to come in.

-----

The bed is one of those backcountry specials—wider than a standard single, more narrow than a double.  In the aftermath of the raid and the UC mission, after months apart, Carrillo turns chivalrous.  

He tries to lie down without touching you.  He doesn’t want to be pushy, doesn’t want you to have to deal with himwhile you’re still processing your months in the seedy underground of the cocaine trade.

He’s seen you push through discomfort plenty of time.  Running with a sprained ankle.  Intel with a migraine.  He doesn’t want to be another thing that pushes your comfort to the side.

He must be more tired than he realizes.  He drifts off while he’s still arguing with himself:  to reach for you or to leave you be?  To talk to you or let you rest in silence?

-----

He’s not sure when he wakes:  the room is dark and the entire house is quiet.  The only sounds are the wind outside rattling a loose shutter, the lonely moaning through the eaves.  

He wakes because the bed is shaking, and it only takes him a beat to realize—it’s you, crying.  Crying as quietly as possible, to the point where he only catches your breathing as you try to work through your feelings without bothering him.  

At least, that’s what he guesses.  The two of you had that argument once, right before you left for the UC assignment. You had seemed nervous, keyed-up.  After a vigorous night of sex, he had lain beside you, guessed at your nerves.  Guessed maybe you were scared of the prospect of working directly with Escobar’s men.

You had snapped at him then.  Told him to save you the head-shrinking routine.  You’d climbed out of bed and gotten dressed so fast his head spun, and then you’d fixed him with a withering glare before leaving.

“It’s not like we’re a couple,” you had snapped at him then.  “So save me the fucking noble thoughts now that we’re at the end.”

In the months since you’ve been gone, Carrillo’s replayed that moment more times then he’d admit.  Parsed it out to see what had really been bothering you that night.  Months later, he’s come to the conclusion:  he’d hurt you by not wanting to be in a relationship with you, back then.  He’d hurt you by leaving it undefined for too long, and then you were off to face danger in a way you never had before.  He’d hurt you by never giving voice to the words he wanted to say, still too hurt from his divorce, still too unwilling to let himself open to be hurt.

Now you’re crying quietly beside him, trying not to wake him.  Not to bother him.  You’re probably embarrassed that you cried in the car ride, ashamed to have even shown that little bit of weakness.  Though he’d never consider it a weakness, and he hates that you do.

But the two of you have been apart for months, and Carrillo came to some tough realizations too.  That he does love you.  That he does want to be with you, in whatever way you’ll take him.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder, the saying goes, and doubly so when your return had been so uncertain.  You could have just as easily returned to him in a box.  Or been disappeared altogether, you and Perez lost in the vast jungles or mountains of Escobar’s domain.

“Hey,” he says now, and he feels you go rigid beside him.  Hears the muttered curse when you realize you’ve woken him up.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“No sorry.  None of that.”  He reaches for you, fumbles in the dark.  Finds you, finds your shoulder and turns you over to face him.  He reaches up to cup your face, and he feels your tears.  Feels the streaks they’ve cut over your cheeks and chin, so he wipes them away gently.  When the gesture makes you cry afresh, he wipes those away too.

“You’re safe,” he continues, and he pulls you to him.  Cradles your head against him, an echo to the moment in the car together, but now it’s not awkward.  He pulls your entire body to his, turns you underneath him a bit as if he can protect you with the breadth and width of himself.  He keeps one hand on the back of your head but snakes the other arm under your back to hold you firm.

“I’ve got you.  I promise I’ve got you.”  He kisses the space between your eyebrows, feels the tension there as you cry even harder at his words.  So he kisses you again, muttering that you’re safe, that he’s there with you.  Kisses you over and over until the tears taper off.

He waits until the tears are truly done.  Waits until your breathing evens out and loses it’s panicky edge.  He waits until he knows you can really hear him—not just hear his words, but really hear him.

“I love you.”  He says it quiet but firm, feels how you still underneath him.  It’s not the best place to say it—in a quiet Peruvian bed and breakfast during a snow storm.

It’s not the best time to say it either.  The best time would have been months ago when he first felt it.  Should have said it then instead of burying it deep.  But the second best time is now.

“Carrillo, you don’t need to—”

He silences you by pressing his lips against yours.  Closed-mouth, gentle.  As much as he wants you, he wants to wait.  Wait until you are back on solid ground.  Until you feel more like yourself.  It feels uneven at this moment, like he might be taking advantage of you.  You feel fragile in his arms.  It makes him protective, even from his own baser wants.

“I do,” he murmurs against your lips.  “I do need to, because it’s the truth.  I love you.  I should have said it sooner.”

You’re quiet for a long time, but he can feel you trying to study him in the darkness.  You’re quiet for so long that despair starts to creep in:  he’s waited too long, you don’t feel the same…

Then he feels it—your hand on his cheek.  Cupping his face, drawing him back down to you, kissing him this time, sweeter and softer than any kiss you’ve ever shared before, and his chest feels a lightness it hasn’t felt in ages…

“I love you too,” you whisper to him.  

[esotericas-sims]

Fleur,

I looked into that museum you asked me to. The only thing I could really find was a brief article from a year or so ago - I've enclosed it. Do you think it's the same person? V.S.? It mentions a wife and a daughter too. I hope that is at least enough to get you started in your investigation. How is Peru? Is that man you mentioned really in love with you? Men are horrible, you know, they're so quick to change their minds about a woman. I would be careful.

[ Transcript: ECCENTRIC FOREIGNER & SOCIALITE BRIDE FOUND HISTORY MUSEUM. Lord V.S. and his wife T. have orbited the New York social scene for many years, but it is not until now that the remarkable couple have chosen to put themselves in the spotlight. Our sources say that Lord S. has put upwards of $————— towards the creation of a history museum in Manhattan - one that claims to rival our beloved Met. Why he has chosen to abandon his reclusive lifestyle is anyone’s guess, but some suspect the coming-of-age of his daughter may have something to do with it. Either way, word has spread of a charity ball at their family home to help raise funds for the new museum… ]

Affairs in New York are going wonderfully. I graduated a few months ago, and have gone straight into a job at the Symphony Orchestra, on the piano of course. It doesn't pay well, and my apartment is a one-room decrepit ruin, but I hope once I prove my worth they'll pay me a bit more.

Besides the minor fact of my terrible pay, I am reminded that the city suits me even more when I am not restricted by class hours. So many people to meet, so much to see...

You mentioned Mags - I hear Olive has been spreading lies about me again. She is a dear friend, but I assure you, marriage is far from my mind at the moment. The world is too wide for me to tie myself down!

Anyways, I hope that you are well, and that the heat hasn't entirely destroyed you. I can't imagine what it must be like down there - the summers here are already stifling compared to home.

Write me back soon, and let me know if that article proves useful.

Your loving brother, J. Spectre

Playing with  SeveralPerson’s Ultimate Decades Challenge Rules

Started: 1800s

Current decade: 1910s

Family tree

Spreadsheet

CC Finds

[mariana-oconnor]

The Sussex Vampire pt 2

It took me five times to write the title correctly, so this is clearly going to go brilliantly.

Back to the vampires

Now, my working theory is that the son is secretly trying to off his new half-sibling and frame his stepmother. Mainly I think this because Peru, because British authors in the first part of the twentieth century loved a good untraceable tropical poison from South America.

“She verra ill,” cried the girl, looking with indignant eyes at her master. “She no ask for food. She verra ill. She need doctor. I frightened stay alone with her without doctor.”

First... wow. That's some terrible accent work there. Yikes. Second, is she ill because she's been sucking poison out of her baby's neck?

“Would your mistress see Dr. Watson?” “I take him. I no ask leave. She needs doctor.”

First, all he's going to do is prescribe brandy. And second, it's lucky he's actually a medical doctor (Although I'm not convinced he's ever done much medicine. He wasn't at his practice much before he abandoned it to live with Holmes again.) You can't just go assuming that everyone called doctor such and such knows medicine. I have many friends and relatives who are doctors and literally 1 of them is a medical doctor.

Both were high, and yet my impression was that the condition was rather that of mental and nervous excitement than of any actual seizure.

Or... an untraceable tropical poison...

“A fiend! A fiend! Oh, what shall I do with this devil?”

A fiend? A devil? Or perhaps...

(No, she's referring to the son. Definitely because who else could it be. Way too obviously directed at her husband here for it to actually be him.)

So far no brandy though. Watson must have lost all his medical knowledge since he left his practice. Woe.

“He loves me. Yes. But do I not love him? Do I not love him even to sacrifice myself rather than break his dear heart? That is how I love him. And yet he could think of me—he could speak of me so.”

Lady, I get it, I get it. You don't want to tell him his son is a murderer. But given the evidence you've left the poor man with, what do you expect. You think he'll just be like 'well, she beat my son and she keeps chowing down on our baby's neck, but I trust that she knows what she's doing?'

...a youth entered the room. He was a remarkable lad, pale-faced and fair-haired, with excitable light blue eyes which blazed into a sudden flame of emotion and joy as they rested upon his father. He rushed forward and threw his arms round his neck with the abandon of a loving girl.

The child is evil.

Although I kind of dislike how they're using his 'excess' of emotional response to show this, especially with the comparison to a woman. There's a distinct undercurrent in this description that sparks of him 'showing too much emotion for a boy' and therefore being othered.

Or maybe I'm reading too much into things in order to support my own hypothesis. Am I altering data to suit my story? Am I the misogynistic one reading too much into this.

Although it literally says in the text that his father 'gently disengaged himself from the embrace with some little show of embarrassment.'

Like, tell me that isn't outright supporting my reading.

Presently he returned, and behind him came a tall, gaunt woman bearing in her arms a very beautiful child, dark-eyed, golden-haired, a wonderful mixture of the Saxon and the Latin. Ferguson was evidently devoted to it, for he took it into his arms and fondled it most tenderly.

Watson out there refusing to apply gendered pronouns. How very modern of him. Lol.

It is a bit weird to see a baby referred to as 'it' so consistently, though. Not even 'them'. Reminds me of the baby object in the Sims.

Then he smiled, and his eyes came back to the baby. On its chubby neck there was this small puckered mark. Without speaking, Holmes examined it with care. Finally he shook one of the dimpled fists which waved in front of him. “Good-bye, little man. You have made a strange start in life."

Holmes being very nice to a baby. Actually interacting with... it? when he really doesn't need to. Not like the baby knows what he's saying. Just taking the time to be nice to a baby. Super heartless and lacking in empathy, that man.

“Do you like her, Jack?” Holmes turned suddenly upon the boy. His expressive mobile face shadowed over, and he shook his head. “Jacky has very strong likes and dislikes,” said Ferguson, putting his arm round the boy. “Luckily I am one of his likes.”

On the one hand, perfectly reasonable to dislike the woman who beat you. On the other hand, maybe the father knows his son is capable of terrible things.

The boy cooed and nestled his head upon his father's breast. Ferguson gently disengaged him.

Oh my god, he's a kid. Let the boy have a hug. Even if he is a monster-child, this is probably why. Though I have a sneaking suspicion the story is going to try to tell me it's the exact opposite.

"Now, Mr. Ferguson, I am a busy man with many calls, and my methods have to be short and direct. The swiftest surgery is the least painful. Let me first say what will ease your mind. Your wife is a very good, a very loving, and a very ill-used woman.”

And your son is a murderer.

“I will do so, but in doing so I must wound you deeply in another direction.” “I care nothing so long as you clear my wife. Everything on earth is insignificant compared to that.”

People really need to think before they make statements like this. I understand that he is unlikely to consider that his son is trying to murder his other child in a fit of outraged jealousy over having to share his beloved father, but still... famous last words.

"The idea of a vampire was to me absurd. Such things do not happen in criminal practice in England."

The specficity of this is very bizarre. Do they happen in other kinds of practices in England?

"Was there not a queen in English history who sucked such a wound to draw poison from it?”

Was there?

OK, apparently this refers to Queen Eleanor, who sucked the poison from Edward I's poisoned knife wound in 1272. A story that has, sadly, fallen out of vogue in the English educational system. Probably because we don't really like to discuss the crusades except in a very general, distant sense. Or... y'know... any of the other times we invaded people. There are a lot of gaps in English history lessons.

“A South American household. My instinct felt the presence of those weapons upon the wall before my eyes ever saw them. It might have been other poison, but that was what occurred to me. When I saw that little empty quiver beside the small bird-bow, it was just what I expected to see. If the child were pricked with one of those arrows dipped in curare or some other devilish drug, it would mean death if the venom were not sucked out."

Curare, that was the name I've been trying to think of. Very popular for a while in literature.

“I watched him as you fondled the child just now. His face was clearly reflected in the glass of the window where the shutter formed a background. I saw such jealousy, such cruel hatred, as I have seldom seen in a human face.”

Sometimes it does suck to be right.

Suck... heh. Pun wasn't intended, but I'll take it.

“I think a year at sea would be my prescription for Master Jacky,” said Holmes.

Like... they're making him work on a ship? I know therapy isn't really anything at this point in time. But would-be murderer child gets sent to sea?

I doubt he'll be killed in a mysterious shipwreck off page, like so many others have been, but really... how is sending him to sea going to help literally anyone? Surely it'll just make him angrier and more resentful.

Victorian parenting was super weird.

Is this to 'make him a man', because we've seen him being compared to a woman? Is this some sort of misguided restoration of the gender binary to save him?

"There, now,” he added as he closed the door behind him, “I think we may leave them to settle the rest among themselves.”

Also Holmes reading the room well enough to know husband and wife need some alone time?

(One last vampire gif there that I don't know if anyone but me will even recognise. Josef, you almost made me understand the vampire thing...)