#thoughts and prayers for me in february

[starcatching]

SUA ☆ luck inside 7 doors - guilty challenge

[aphrogeneias]

i'm the most tiredest girl in the world and it's only tuesday

[gryficowa]

Boycott!

Now that I have your attention:

[toychest321]

(I wanted to apologize for my lack of activity on this page. I had so many plans for posts I wanted to make for Ramadan, but this past month has been so horribly stressful. Whenever I have time free from schoolwork I'm so incredibly burnt out I lack the motivation to post. Now there's barely any time left before Ramadan is over, even though there were other posts I wanted to make. I'll probably still make them in the future, though, and highlight Islamic culture through dolls however and whenever I can!)

With that said, I'd like to introduce you to the most recently-released Muslim doll, Umm Amirah!

As far as I can tell, Umm Amirah was released in February of 2023 by the company Allova, a family-owned company based in the UK.

While the name "Umm" literally translates to "Mother" or "Mother of", it can also be used as an additive prefix for whatever trait follows. "Amirah", meanwhile, means "Princess", so (as far as I can tell) her name roughly means "she who is like a princess".

And that name certainly fits! While her outfit is relatively simple (which makes sense, since her primary demographic is those aged 3-7), the sparkling tulle outer skirt shows that subtle princess-y influence!

The doll comes in pink and purple outfit variants, and comes with a prayer mat, a pink bag to carry it, and a pink hairbrush. She has fair skin, blue eyes, dark or blonde hair beneath her hijab, and 11 points of articulation! Umm Amirah's is meant to be a cultural education tool, and introduce the practice of Salah to children.

As I mentioned in a previous post regarding the Morning (Fajr) and Evening Prayers (Isha), Salah is the daily process of giving prayer to Allah. It is the second pillar of Islam, and must be done facing Mecca.

A couple of months ago in February 2024, Allova also released this Princess Fashion Set. While it's not an official Umm Amirah fashion pack, I still feel like it could somewhat be classified as such with its name and their doll used for modelling.

The pack comes with 6 dresses: pale pink with dotted skirt; pink with puffed sleeves and ruffle skirt; blue with silver detailing, top, and belt; a blue summer dress with white and yellow pattern; purple; and black and white with white flower buttons and a polka-dot skirt. It also comes with four headscarves in blue, lilac, black, and gold, 3 handbags (tan, white, and pink) , and 3 pairs of shoes (black, silver, and fuschia(?))

I obviously cant post for each outfit combination, but I would definitely say that the blue summer dress is my least favorite of those available. The material looks the cheapest out of those in the pack, its design is comparatively simple, and the pattern is sorta tacky. I feel like the central concept could've been executed better.

My favorite looks, though, would have to be:

The full black and white look sorta gives me girlboss vibes, like something she could wear at her desk writing articles or modeling for the cover of a magazine! The blue dress, meanwhile, is sooooo elegant, like she's going to a fancy party in the evening! My absolute favorite though would have to be the gold hijab with the pink frilly dress, which takes the "princess" part of Umm Amirah to a whole new level!

In spite of my thoughts on the summer dress of the pack, I'm in love with this doll and its outfits as a whole! It's been fun putting out this post I'd been meaning to make for a while. A lot of the Muslim dolls I've found, while impressive, unfortunately don't seem to be in production much in the current year, so it's nice to see there's still options available! If you're still looking for a potential Eid gift, I'd highly recommend getting her from Allova's website!

Ramadan Kareem!

[makiwife]

joe burrow on obx??!!

Joe Burrow x Reader Instagram au

authors notes: face claim is Madelyn Cline. these are so fun to make lol. ooc?? all pics are from Madelyn Clines Instagram. joes pics are from his Instagram. enjoy!!

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Y/nInstagram

Liked by madisonbaileybabe, obx, joeyb_9 and 532,712,364 others

Y/nInstagram thank you instyle for the photoshoot!! I love you.

view comments

madisonbaileybabe: YOU LOOK SO GOOD!!

↳ Y/nInstagram: lover💋

drewstarkey: my sister is that you?

joeyb_9: Sarah Cameron?? arent you supposed to be in pougelandia?

↳ Y/nInstagram: bengals qb?? i thought you weren’t an social media kinda guy?😁

y/n444: marry me pls🙏🙏

jonathandavissofficial: instyle did you good

lahjay10_: ain’t no way burrow commented

↳ liked by Y/nInstagram

obx: def not a Sarah Cameron dupe

oliviarodrigo: stunna

Ilovey/n: how can someone be so gorgeous

obxfan1: praying we get obx 3

——————————————————————————

Y/nInstagram

Liked by obx, nfl, joeyb_9 and 2,437,832,910 others

Y/nInstagram catch us on february 23th🤞

view comments

nfl: any spoilers??

↳ Y/nInstagram: make football an all year-round sport then we can talk.

hichasestokes: OBX 3!!!!

madisonbaileybabe: you ate in that pic

austinnorth55: cover is so sick

sam_hubbard_:will be watching the second it comes out

Obxlover: I NEED IT NOW

Jaira5: need more jaira and jarah

bengals: obx 4?

↳ Y/nInstagram: maybe?? maybe not??

joeyb_9: holy shit it’s happening

↳ Y/nInstagram indeed it is

Zendaya: can’t wait!!

obxfan1: THE GODS HEARD MY PRAYERS

rudeth: WOOOWHOOO

——————————————————————————

joeyb_9

Liked by Y/nInstagram, bengals, and 834,927,120 others

joeyb_9 football and beaches

view comments

Y/nInstagram: we’ll be in the sand forever🥰

↳ joeyb_9: isn’t that cute

Evan_Mcphearson: YOURE DATING THE ACTRESS THAT PLAYS SARAH CAMERON?!??

Y/nInstagram: yes I’m the football he’s holding

nfl: THE BIGGEST PLOT TWIST EVER???

lahjay10_: are you gonna be in the new szn?

↳ Y/nInstagram: damnit how’d you know🙄

sam_hubbard_: as if people didn’t know from joe’s thirsty ass comments😹

Y/nInstagram: love you joey!!

↳ joeyb_9 love you more baby

bengals: makes obx that more interesting

joeburrowlover: HES DATING Y/N???

teehiggins: way to tell everyone!

haydenrhurst: this is actually crazy

joshallenqb: 🔥🔥

joeyb61: NO WAYY

——————————————————————————

Y/nInstagram

Liked by madisonbaileybabe, rudeth, obx and 1,798,472,321 others

Y/nInstagram my second family🥹

view comments

obx: we love you!!

madisonbaileybabe: miss filming w you🥲

↳ Y/nInstagram: we’ll be back😉

joeyb_9: orange looks so good on you

drewstarkey: Sarah and kie best duo??

jonathandavissofficial: hottest cast ever

rudeth: frickin P4L

bengals: repping our iconic orange

↳ Liked by Y/nInstagram

obxforever: HOW IS EVERYONE SO HOTT

nfl: 4️⃣

carlaciagrant: looking so fineee

charles_esten: miss yall

hichasestokes: the pics go crazy

y/nloverr: Y/n and madison best girls

——————————————————————————

joeyb_9 Instagram Story

Y/nInstagram replied to your story: I love you Joey 🥹🥹

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoy writing these series.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

[the-devils-library]

At Satan's Altar: A Collection of Prayers, Chants, Affirmations, Hymns, and Rituals by Marie RavenSoul

Title: At Satan's Altar: A Collection of Prayers, Chants, Affirmations, Hymns, and Rituals

Author: Marie RavenSoul

Publisher: ‎ In Satan's Honour Press

Publishing Date: February 28, 2018

ISBN-10‏: ‎ 1775262405

ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1775262404

Last post was a popular atheist text, so I suppose it's appropriate that now we move on to a popular theist text.

Marie RavenSoul is a modern Satanic author and youtuber, her channel can be found here. Her website, In Satan's Honour, can be found here. To my knowledge she is not affiliated with any group but her dedication in this book gives thanks to a "Brother Nero," who I believe may be the same Brother Nero who authored Satanism: A Beginner's Guide to the Religious Worship of Satan and Demons.

At Satan's Altar's subtitle is an apt summary of its content. RavenSoul is not here to provide moral counsel or wax poetic about philosophy, but to provide the tools of a theistic Satanic practice, including hymns, prayers, and rituals. The cover and interior also feature several illustrations, by artists Amanda MacNeil and Letitia Pfinder.

The book is divided into two sections, the first half being dedicated to devotional writings such as chants and prayers, and the second half being more instructional, revolving around rituals and practices the theistic Satanist might partake in. The instructional portion may prove useful to newcomers who have basic questions, such as how to pray, or how to structure a ritual. The Nine Days of Solitude Devotional may be difficult for anyone who is young or in a controlling environment, but could prove beneficial for more experienced Satanists who wish to do something more intensive than daily prayer or a one-off rite.

It is worth noting that RavenSoul calls Satan by other names, such as Lucifer and Baphomet, which some theistic Satanists may consider to be separate demons, rather than other names for Satan himself. She also refers to Satan as "father," a dynamic which may or may not ring true for other Satanists. At Satan's Altar is available through Amazon and Barnes & Noble. [DISCLAIMER: The Devil's Library is not affiliated with any of the previously mentioned groups or authors. It is an independent project by a single Satanist. Do not mistake my mentioning of an author or group as endorsement for their beliefs and practices.]

Click below for my personal thoughts on the book.

RavenSoul is a talented writer and her dedication to Satan is admirable. While her rather fatherly interpretation of Satan isn't for me personally, I'm sure those Satanists who do see our lord as a father figure would take great comfort in certain pieces of her writing.

However there is an aspect of the book which rubs me the wrong way personally, and that is the matter of cultural misappropriation. RavenSoul conflates Satan with religious figures from a couple of other faiths, namely Iblis and Tawûsî Melek (spelled Melek Ta'us in the book). While I can see why someone would compare these figures to Satan at first glance, my research tells me it is inaccurate and perhaps unwise to do so. Iblis comes from Islam, and while he is a fallen angel and the leader of devils, equating him with the Christian Satan is ignorant and potentially appropriation. More seriously, equating Tawûsî Melek, the peacock angel of the Yazidi religion, to Satan is directly racist and harmful. Yazidis have a history of persecution, and being wrongfully accused of being devil-worshipers is part of that history. Furthermore, Yazidism is very much closed to outsiders (one cannot even marry into the religion, but must be born into it), so making use of their religious figure for Satanic writings is rude and inconsiderate, at the very least. RavenSoul doesn't just make use of Tawûsî Melek's name and image, but references the Al Jilwah, a book which claims to hold authentic Yazidi scripture, but is of dubious origins.

In addition to these comparisons, RavenSoul also conflates Satan with gods like Pan and Set, and while those gods come from open religions, some may not enjoy such comparisons.

I know RavenSoul's work is popular amongst my fellow theists, and I never aim to tell my readers what to do in these review sections. These are my thoughts and only my thoughts, not instructions on where you should draw the line on which books you will or won't make use of.

[happilyfeatherafter]

Happilyfeatherafter’s ficrec Fridays

It's February!! Welcome back to another week of ficrecs. A mix of post-confession therapy, poetry, and glorious AU this week. (I thought I'd not read much because this week has been, quite frankly, a bastard, but apparently this was a lie!)

If you missed last week’s you can find my previous rec lists here for more!

2 February 2024

maybe i like pleasure pain by tothewillofthepeople (@kvothes). After the perfect darkness of the Empty, Cas finds the world a little…overwhelming. Dean tries to help. Post 15x18, Cas is both touch starved and touch sensitive, and the sensory overload of the world can be a bit too much. He craves Dean's touch, but resists asking for it. A really beautifully written, metaphor laden examination of chronic pain, disability, trauma and the physicality of the body and nebulous presence of mind. All wrapped up in an abundance of love and devotion. Absolutely gorgeous.

Prayer to a False God by K_A_Mindin (@katerinaalianovamindin, art by @gaytedlasso for @spnbangbang) It’s been two years stuck in the Empty, where the Shadow showed him his worst mistakes over and over again. Then he's brought back, to Jack and to Dean, and silence continues to rein, the unspoken acknowledgement of the confession lingering in the air...until Cas decides he needs to stop letting silence rule. Alongside the emotional pull of this thread, the D/S dynamics which grant Dean the permission to speak his truths, through prayer, and through physical release, are a joy to behold.

i like your shoelaces (thanks! i stole them from the president) by @you-cant-spell-subtext-without is a brilliantly funny take on Misha's "Dean is a custodian in a fast food restaurant. Castiel is the President of the United States" fic prompt from a convention, told through the narrative hook of a Cinderella story. Delightfully tongue in cheek, and laugh out loud, this is currently a wip but a must read to bring joy to your inbox each update.

FROTUS by kathscradle takes the very same prompt but approaches it in a very well executed slowburn that says ok but seriously what if? My favourite thing about this fic is the importance of family, Cas being the widowed single parent of Jack and Claire, and Dean stepping up in his new role as step-Dad. Add in the slowburn relationship unfolding through long distance hyper-monitored correspondence, and all the national security matters at hand, this longfic gave my The West Wing/Scandal/Destiel brain a great big hug.

birthday candles by rhinestoneangels (almondrose/@pinknatural) is a super cute, ever so charming Dean's birthday ficlet in which Castiel's sister Anna drags him to a birthday party for a friend of hers who he has never met. He googles what to bring to a birthday party and settles on baking cookies...one fire later and fortunately, the firefighter who shows up to save Castiel from himself is very dreamy, and what a coincidence! It's his birthday, too….

I've also fallen down a rabbit warren of destiel and spn poetry, and I really really love this one by @whatladybird and this one by @eyelinerdean, @donestiel's incredible poetry gif edit series and I'm very excited to keep reading more on the @spnpoetryrenaissance blog. Has anyone seen a 2024 prompt list? Asking for reasons.

PS if you'd like to be added to a tag list for my ficrecs going forward please let me know!

[corroded-hellfire]

St. Valentine’s Day is upon us! In honor, I thought it would be fun to host an event for all my fellow writers. I’ve prepared a playlist of 30 songs all dealing with love—from the wonder of it to the heartbreak it can cause. I can’t wait to read what you come up with!

Rundown of the event:

❤️ Pick a song + a character

Choose from:

💜 Eddie Munson

💜 Steve Harrington

💜 Nancy Wheeler

💜 Robin Buckley

💜 Billy Hargrove

💜 Jonathan Byers

💜 Argyle

🩷 Write a blurb using that song as a prompt/guide. It could be the title, a lyric, the story it tells—whatever speaks to you

🩵 No more than 4k words

💚 Post it on or before February 14, tag @corroded-hellfire, and I will add it to a masterlist for the event

Feel free to message me with any questions!

The playlist is posted below

Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran

Silly Love Songs by Wings

What A Man Gotta Do by Jonas Brothers

Rewrite the Stars from The Greatest Showman

Suspicious Minds by Elvis Presley

Just Give Me a Reason by Pink

Livin' On a Prayer by Bon Jovi

Only Us from Dear Evan Hansen

Crazy Little Thing Called Love by Queen

Happier by Olivia Rodrigo

Glad You Came by The Wanted

I Want You to Want Me by Cheap Trick

Love Story by Taylor Swift

As Long As You're Mine from Wicked

Someone Like You by Adele

Paradise by the Dashboard Light by Meatloaf

Last Night by Morgan Wallen

I'll Cover You from Rent

I Want U Bad by R5

Mr. Brightside by The Killers

I've Just Seen a Face by The Beatles

Remember Me from Coco

Only the Good Die Young by Billy Joel

Until I Found You by Stephen Sanchez

You Oughta Know by Alanis Morisette

When You Look Me in the Eyes by Jonas Brothers

Stacy's Mom by Fountains of Wayne

Can't Take My Eyes Off of You by Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons

Run Away With Me from The Mad Ones

Thinking of You by Katy Perry

Links to listen to songs can be found here! (Can’t guarantee the links will work outside of the US but you can certainly look up the songs on your own!)

[sunsetsimon]

hi an update after my appointment,

I DO NOT HAVE CANCER!!!!!!

holy shit i can’t even explain how good it feels to be able to say that. after wrestling with this for months i finally have the answer.

without getting too specific about it, in my last experience, i had lumps in my right breast in february 2022 that my doctor was concerned about and wanted me to get checked. my scans came back clear of malignant lumps, but there definitely were cysts in my breast tissue that were causing me pain. because of my symptoms they didn’t feel it was necessary to remove them and they eventually went away.

november 2023, right as i’m moving apartments, i notice that i have another painful lump in my right breast. i figured it must be the same cyst situation from before, so i decided to wait on it before starting to freak out. the pain continued to grow, expanding into my armpit region and i was experiencing a lot of soreness and shooting pains. i already don’t wear bra’s, but it became extremely uncomfortable and i had to move up in size to be able to continue to wear them.

one day months later as i was about to shower, i noticed that my nipple looked really weird. like, you know how as they harden they shrink and become perkier? (those with puffy nipples like me - you get it). only half of my right nipple was hard, and it looked oddly shriveled and wrinkled. this is when i started to realize that this could actually be something serious.

so i got my referral from my primary and just had my screenings today. NO CANCER. but there is abnormal tissue growth, nothing serious but it will still continue to cause me pain and soreness. (apparently this is a common thing for people with breasts)

she said it could be hormonal, as she noticed some of the same on my left breast. we’re not sure what happened with my nipple as i haven’t really experienced that again, but i’ll continue to keep an eye on everything for any changes.

i feel good knowing that as of now, it’s nothing. but with the history of my aunt, grandma, and great aunt all developing breast cancer, i should still always be on pretty high alert, especially since im not in the best health.

so yeah, trust yourself when you think something isn’t right about your body.

thank you so so so much to all who sent me kind words and thoughts, kept me in your prayers and good wishes. i am so grateful to have people who care about my wellbeing. you gave me the strength to stop being so consumed by fear and push through. i’ve even been able to write a tiny bit! i love and appreciate you all so much, seriously. and i miss you all too!

now that i’m able to have this major weight off of my shoulders i feel like i can take a deep breath again.

i hope you’ve been taking care 💗 i should have a new post for simon out soon!!

[aziraphales-library]

Lost Fic #170

1. Hello! This is probably a bit vague so I apologise for that, but I've had a fic scene stuck I my head for some time and can't find the fic where I read it. I remember that Crowley and Aziraphale were in the Bentley, Crowley was speeding as usual, and either the Bentley was playing or Crowley was singing lyrics from "There Is a Light That Never Goes Out" by The Smiths. Specifically the part about the double-decker bus. I think part of the song were also spread across the fic to match the mood/scene, but I'm not 100% sure. I'm also mostly sure I read it before the pandemic, so it's should be from before February 2020, if that helps. Again, sorry if it's a vague request! - @dumpster-connoisseur

2. Hello, I'm hoping you can help me find a fic I thought I had bookmarked? I believe it was posted on LiveJournal or a similar site, definitely not Ao3. Post the book/season 1, A&C just started a relationship, they're both asexual. A succubus impersonates Aziraphale to trap Crowley in a demon trap and then goes to Aziraphale pretending to be Crowley to try to sleep with him and suck out his life force. Aziraphale drops a piano on him when he realizes it's not Crowley. Y'all are amazing, tysm! - @idontremembershippingthis

3. Hi! I'm looking for a fic I read some years ago, it was definitely after season 1, not book canon. It was rather mature or explicit. This fic followed Crowley throught the ages and how he wasn't able to lose his virginity, sometimes he even had a mission from Hell and Aziraphale had already sleep with that person in order to help Heaven. We get closer to our timeline and Crowley meets a guy he likes and thinks this would be the time but I think his father had an accident and Crowley did the right thing and let him go to the hospital. I think there were some miracles involved, I'm not sure. Aziraphale finds out about this and lovemaking happens. - anon

4. hello! i need help, please. do you, perhaps, know the ao3 fanfic where everyone was trying to set up aziraphale and crowley, many things happen, they get locked in some room with a window so everyone can snoop on them, crowley turns into a snake because he doesn't want to talk about their relationship, all to know that they were already together by that time and they wanted to make a little jokey joke to their friends so they acted like they still had unresolved tension with each other. thanks! - anon

5. hello! been thinking about an outsider pov fic, and i just cant find it. its from the perspective of some people on some sort of paranormal investigation website who all take it way too seriously looking into the bookshop. one scene from it i remember quite vividly is a lady going in with a bible, saying prayers as she walked around and sprinkling holy water everywhere with her just narrowly missing hitting crowley with it. she is promptly kicked out. id be very glad if you knew its name - anon

If you know any of these fics please include the number in your reply! Thank you :)

- Mod D

[lilfoxy1013]

Alrighty.. just putting this here for safekeeping and so maybe it’ll be easier to explain. On Feb 17, 2024 my boyfriend at the time woke up around 9:30 am to me having a seizure. He took me to a research hospital in the area and we got to the ED around 11 am. They did a CT and an MRI and have found what they called a 4 cm tumor in my right frontal lobe. I had another MRI in the middle of March and got more measurements on the size of the tumor. Based on the measurements, I did the math and found it was 119 cubic cm (about the size of a billiards ball). I had a right frontal craniotomy on April 1, 2024. They were able to remove the entire tumor and my MRI the evening after surgery showed no residual tumor. I’ve met with an oncologist and we waited for pathology results. Pathology came back as a Grade 3 Astrocytoma with the IDH1 mutation. I have started 500 mg of Tibsovo daily to keep it from growing back, or at least slow it down. There isn’t a cure for brain tumors, so we just wait for it to come back and do surgery again. If you’ve read this far into my real life shit, I appreciate any well wishes, thoughts, and prayers if you’re religious. I try to keep my spirits up and handle things rationally but some days that is a little more difficult. I’m stuck on antiseizure medication for at least a year from my latest seizure (luckily it’s still just the seizure in Feb 2024) and cannot drive per my state’s laws for a year from the last seizure as well.

Luckily my job has been flexible with me since February but trying to get back to full time hours is a struggle, especially if I want to take care of myself as well (bathing, eating, cleaning, etc). Also, lots of back and forth with insurance companies and the hospital and lots of scans and follow up appointments.

6 month MRI was clean. “No progression” and “stable burden of disease”. Joint pain has been mostly managed with new meds.

I moved in with my “friends” who turned into girlfriend, fiancée, and wife very quickly (we had a hand fasting ceremony Oct 6, 2024) and her husband became my boyfriend as well. Being in a functional throuple is new to them, so there have been some hiccups but everything is looking up. 💜

[aria-ashryver]

Woven Threads and Winding Roads (Pt 1&2)

Book: Blades of Light and Shadow Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Raine) Words: 2.2K Ratings/Warnings: General; mention of (Nesper) pregnancy

Summary: Five times Tyril attempts to braid Raine’s hair; and one time those threads begin to come together again as they should.

A/N: Written as a gift for @thosehallowedhalls as a part of the Choices Secret Admirer event! It was such a delight to write for BOLAS again. Also participating in Choices February 2024 with the prompts Eros, Philia, and Pragma. Thank you Caro for letting me borrow your lovely Raine! 🌷🎀

Raine bit down on a laugh as Tyril strode into their bedroom, a scowl biting deep into the angular lines of his face. She rose to meet him, settling a hand against his cheek.

‘There’s the frown I fell in love with,’ she teased, laughter bubbling out of her as his brow furrowed further at her words. ‘We’ve had so little to trouble us these past few weeks — I was beginning to worry you’d forgotten how to brood.’

‘I am not brooding,’ Tyril brooded. 

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her waist, closing his eyes and leaning into the kiss she pressed to his jaw.

‘Thank the stars Adrina has the stomach for these tiresome nobles and their courtly swill. The entire Venesterium seems determined to vex me. The sooner we escape this evening’s ball, the better.’

Raine grinned. ‘Mal and Imtura have been rubbing off on you.’

Tyril’s eyes snapped open. ‘How dare you.’

‘They have!’

‘I… forgive me.’ Tyril paused, stepping back to take in the sweep of silver-blue silk swathing Raine from head to toe. His face softened. ‘Here I am complaining about the nobility, when I should be telling you how utterly radiant you look. You are dazzling spring water beneath the noonday sun, a pure vision of Bakshi come to life. You are the very stars themselves, beloved.’

Raine’s chest glowed. She tangled her fingers with his, swishing her shoulders back and forth.

‘Look,’ she said proudly. ‘My dress has a cape!’

Tyril chuckled.

They were still getting used to life in Undermount. To peace. 

To not being woken by Imtura’s snores, or the quiet cadence of Nia’s morning prayers; to the soft bed linens they’d traded up from hard-packed earth; to days that held no more danger than social faux pas and politics, instead of threats to their lives, to their friends, to the realm itself.

Well. Realms, plural, Raine thought. 

All that time running back and forth across not one but two different planes hadn’t exactly left much time for updating her wardrobe — that, at least, was one aspect of their new life together that Raine had quickly adapted to. Every last seamstress and tailor in Undermount was vying for House Starfury’s patronage. Raine had wasted no time taking advantage. 

‘You’re looking rather handsome yourself,’ she told Tyril, running her fingers over the ornate metalwork embellishing his robes. ‘What’s all this?’

Tyril’s face flattened into a frown again. 

‘Adrina’s doing,’ he groused. ‘House Starfury has been steadily regaining our former standing. Our coffers are stable, our contracts are shoring up, Father has been able to rehire the staff he let go with considerable bonuses. My dear sister, in all her brilliance, has decided that means I needed to look suitably ludicrous for our re-entry into elven courtly society.’

‘I think you look lovely.’

Tyril’s face pinched in distaste. ‘Have you seen the size of this ring? It’s a House Starfury heirloom.’

Tyril flapped his hand before Raine’s face — rather unnecessarily, in all honesty; there was little chance she’d have missed seeing the ring, given that it was the size of a small continent. There, on his left pointer finger, was a sparkling affair of curlicued silver and diamond, set with a sapphire so immense, its sale could have supported the entire population of Riverbend for a solid year or more.

‘Can you imagine what our roguish friend would say if he took one look at me in this get—up?’

‘Mal would call you a prissy elf boy and probably wet himself from laughter, yes.’ Raine pursed her lips, trying not to grin. ‘I take it Undermount’s finery and flattery isn’t to your liking any more, then?’

‘The flattery never was,’ Tyril said, his eyes trained on Raine as she slipped into a seat at the vanity and finished applying a kohl liner to her eyes. ‘The fineries?’ He hummed thoughtfully. ‘I’ll admit, the novelty of clean sheets and dry boots is wearing off faster than I’d expected.’

He stepped up behind her to run a brush through the silken gold of her hair.

Raine closed her eyes, leaning into his touch, remembering for a moment the mornings Nia had done the same. She had no problem braiding her own hair, of course, but sometimes she and Nia had helped each other tease away the tangles and road-dirt, fixing one another’s hair in readiness for travel and combat. 

It had grounded them both. Anchored them in the present, in the living pulse of their Light. Soothed them on the days when the darkness was too heavy to speak through.

Raine met Tyril’s piercing, blue gaze in the mirror over her shoulder. He raised a brow in silent question.

‘Would… would you braid my hair for me?’

A soft smile lit his face. 

‘Whatever you would have of me, I would give to you.’

The minutes passed in silence as Raine gave herself over to the gentle touch of her lover’s hands. He’d almost finished a passable —if slightly uneven— braid, when his ring snagged on her hair, pulling a section loose at the front. 

‘Drat! Apologies, this ring is impossible. I’ve never seen a piece of jewellery so cumbersome — Gods forbid it’s wearer deign to lift a finger to do anything for themselves. Though, I suppose that’s rather the point, isn’t it?’ Tyril clicked his tongue. ‘I haven’t the faintest idea how I am supposed to hold a sword with this monstrosity on my finger.’

‘Tyril…’ Raine caught his hand, holding his gaze for a long moment. ‘You don’t need to anymore.’

‘Oh.’ His eyes grew round, unguarded. ‘I suppose you are right. Yes, I don’t… right.’

Standing, Raine fixed the end of the braid with a simple leather band.

‘You’ve no wish to fix the snag?’

‘No, it’s fine. I rather like it.’ Raine glanced at the fall of hair that had tugged loose. ‘We don’t want to be too put together for the smarmy nobles, do we?’

‘We do not.’ Tyril cupped Raine’s face, his thumb sweeping over her cheekbone, sighing fondly. ‘You are exquisite, Raine. Do you know that? You are perfect. Celestial. I almost want to keep you all for myself. You know… we could just stay here, tonight.’

Laughing, Raine swatted at Tyril as his gaze grew hooded.

‘Tyril!’

She was rewarded with the sight of one of his rare and dazzling smiles. A secret sight, just for the two of them. It still caught her stomach up in swooping knots every time Tyril smiled.

‘Fine,’ he said, warmly, ‘let us away. But we are leaving as soon as the dessert courses are over.’

Raine’s hand found his.

‘Deal.’

‘Why do you get a cool half-cape?’ Raine grumbled, as they wound their way through the cool expanse of the public gardens. ‘I want a cool half-cape. Instead I get idiotic, too-long sleeves.’

Tyril’s face remained impassive as he nodded at a passing head of house; the gardens were bustling this morning, the lush greenery offering a cool respite from the late-spring sun. Raine greeted the elf in kind with a cordial wave —or, she tried to— the gesture botched by the yards of gauzy fabric tangling about her hands.

‘I hate everything!’ she shrieked under her breath. ‘I am this close’ —Raine raised a hand, snarled when her sleeves got in the way again, flailed her arms about until her hands were free, and pinched her thumb and forefinger before Tyril’s nose— ‘to ripping these awful sleeves off and shoving them into that fountain.’

Tyril smiled, tucking his hand against the small of her back and steering her neatly away from the aforementioned fountain. They walked instead toward a cluster of chatting nobles whom Tyril would rather have avoided, but knew he ought to greet.

‘Adrina is close to closing a significant contract with House Moonchaser,’ Tyril said quietly as they neared. ‘It would be a shame to offend their head of house by destroying the gift she bestowed upon you. Damaging such a gift would be perceived as a deliberate snub.’

‘Godsdamn it all to the blackest reaches of the Three Hel— ah, that is— hello, Lord Frostcrow! Yes, the gardens are looking splendid this morning, you are quite right.’

Their welcome ball had been pleasant enough. Raine had bewitched the gathered masses with her effortless radiance —not that Tyril was surprised; his lover stole his breath with every passing heartbeat— though none had been more taken with her beauty than the Lady of House Moonchaser. The elven matriarch had insisted on gifting Raine a custom-made dress from her personal seamstress as a show of welcome from their House.

It had been delivered late that morning — a heavy concoction of lurid pink velvet and silver embellishments, complete with decorative pearls, ribbons, and something Raine had described as “a headache masquerading as fashion” to be woven into her hair to match.

Raine had thought the whole thing garish… but, it would do well to be seen wearing the garment publicly at least once, so here they were.

Tyril had tried his hand at braiding her hair again that morning. Raine had humoured his attempts —there was something intimate and tender in their stolen moments of quiet together as he worked the ribbons through her hair— and for a time, he’d been rather proud of his efforts.

At least, until they’d made the journey from their small manor in the hills and into Undermount proper, and the whole thing had begun to unravel under all the weight. The imperfection irked him. Damn it all, he wouldn’t stop until he was the single most talented personal hair stylist in all of Undermount!

‘Stupid elven politics,’ Raine muttered, blowing a strand of hair from her face as they continued on with their stroll. ‘I look ridiculous. I’ve slept in war tents with less fabric than this dress. How am I supposed to defend myself in a swordfight with these sleeves?’

‘Were you not the one reprimanding me for my obstinate refusal to relax?’ Smiling, Tyril dropped a gentle kiss to the top of Raine’s head. The braid sagged a little further. ‘Perhaps you might take your own advice. We are safe, beloved. There aren’t any agents from the Ash Empire hiding under the magnolias, waiting to ambush us the moment we—’

‘A MISSIVE! A MISSIVE FOR YOU, LORD STARFURY!’

Heart in his throat, Tyril spun on instinct to find the point of his dagger hovering mere inches from the face of a wide-eyed courier. Beside him, Light crackled in Raine’s palms, her stance poised to strike, her expression nothing short of thunderous.

‘Apologies!’ The courier squeaked. He pinched an envelope between his trembling fingers, prodding it meekly toward them as the colour drained from his face.

Sighing, Tyril flicked his wrist in a practised motion; the dagger slid smoothly from his palm to tuck itself inconspicuously in his shirtsleeve. 

He really ought to thank Mal for showing him that particular trick, Tyril thought. He wouldn’t, of course, on account of that would mean actually thanking Mal for something, but the gratitude was there all the same.

He tugged the letter from the courier’s hand. The shiny, wax seal bore a small paw-print in the centre.

‘An urgent missive from the most humble Threep Percivacurus Pompedorfin and the magnanimous Loola Coriandropolis Dupopodolis, dispatched via high-speed drake-courier service out of Whitetower,’ the courier recited breathlessly. He swayed on his feet.

‘I think you should go and sit down for a minute or two, buddy,’ Raine told him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. ‘Drink some water, catch your breath. Maybe have a think about whether or not it’s a good idea to sneak up behind people who were recently involved in the harrowing trauma of saving the entire Godsdamned realm from certain doom and yelling at them, you know. Turn that one over in your head a couple times.’

‘That— I— yes. Sound advice, my lady.’ 

Bowing stiffly, the courier departed, tripping over his own feet in his haste to get away.

‘By the Light,’ Raine muttered. She sounded as tired as Tyril felt.

‘Every day I think to myself, “the general populace couldn’t possibly grow any more dense”,’ Tyril murmured, watching the terrified courier wobble away, ‘and every day, they find new and fascinating ways to prove me wrong.’ 

‘Um… Tyril?’

Caught by the horror in her tone, Tyril turned to see a sheepish Raine inspecting her hands. Two smoking, fist-sized holes burned clean through the trailing sleeves of her dress.

She winced. ‘Just how important was that contract with House Moonchaser, again?’

Feeling a headache coming on, Tyril scanned Threep’s letter. His mouth dropped open.

‘Oh! Never mind that — Raine! Threep and Loola are expecting!’

Raine clutched at his hands, giddiness sparkling in her eyes. She squealed.

‘You’re joking. Baby nespers?! How adorable!’ Her eyes bugged in her head. ‘Oh, Gods, wait. An army of Threeps…’

The budding warmth in Tyril’s chest flipped to alarm. ‘Oh no… Oh, we need to start stocking the larder, yesterday.’

Stricken, Raine nodded. ‘I’ll place an order for a few bushels of dried anchovies.’

‘Whatever number you are thinking,’ Tyril said, ‘double it.’

Click here for: [Next - Pt. 3&4]

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesfebruary2024 @choicesfandomappreciation @thosehallowedhalls @lilyoffandoms @stars-are-within-me @jerzwriter

[thatpodcastkid]

Magnus Archives Relisten 12, MAG 12 First Aid

"American student agrees to visit UK demon hospital to beat medical bills. More at six."

Mag 12 analysis, spoilers ahead!

Facts: Statement of Lesere Saraki regarding a night shift at St. Thomas Hospital. Statement given February 11, 2012.

Statement Notes: Really great episode. There is so much built-in here that, to a new listener, doesn't make any sense, but drives a relistener listener crazy. It's an incredible balance of mystery and horror. Before you're aware of the metaplot, you can't understand this episode and are afraid like Saraki. But once you are aware of the metaplot, you understand how the events of this episode contribute to the rituals and Gertrude. Having finished the series, it's easy to view the central mysteries of the series being "What is Elias' goal?" or "What are the entities?", but fans often forget that the main question of the first two seasons is "How did Gertrude Robinson die?" This episode, though not holding many clues, reveals how Gerry did his work, contributing to that mystery. Events like this episode are likely what was important to Jon in season 2, not things that are important to him later like the Lightless Flame or Hilltop Road.

The video footage of everyone leaving the waiting room was very concerning to me. There are a lot of episodes in which the entities seem to manipulate the actions of people around their targets to insight more fear, or at least manipulate their target's perception of other people. However, this just seems like straight-up mind control. A mass manipulation of everyone in the hospital at once. As a show of power alone, this is very frightening. The lack of an explanation is also very concerning. Jon doesn't even attempt to brush off this case as mass hysteria or drug use. I can't explain what made these people behave like that, and clearly, he can't either.

Entity Alignment: This is a very strong Desolation episode. The imagery is so incredibly descriptive. Everything from the warped door handles to the exploding soda bottles to the boiling saline solution is so vivid. The image that particularly stuck with me is Saraki examining Gerry's wounds (side note, it's very sweet to me that she felt so bad about ruining his new leather jacket). She doesn't go particularly in-depth, but the thought of perfectly pristine clothing covering utterly burned skin really emphasizes the violent nature of the Desolation. It burns and destroys, but only targets things it can cause fear and pain.

There's also a ton of Eye mentions in this episode. When Gerry is "praying" over the other victim (don't even get me started on the religious associations people make with the horrors), Saraki steps aside to let him work and watch. Gerry tells her "For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.” This insinuates that, with the prayer he is using to kill the other burn victim (presumably a Lightless Flame member), he is calling on the Desolation. It's a bit surprising that someone deeply affiliated with the Eye can call on another entity. However, we have to remember that technically the entities are all a part of one larger eldritch being, that we as humans simply cannot comprehend the scope of. This means that any avatar can work with or call on any entity, though it is likely easier for someone like Gerry, who is more aware that the Entity is a nuanced being and understands it academically, than it would be for someone like Jared Hopworth or Mike Crew, who are deeply entrenched in the specific aspects of the Entity.

In this vein, Gerry's tattoos not burning demonstrates his connection to the Eye and possible avatar powers. There's evidence in the show that different entities cannot hurt each other directly, but need particular circumstances to do so. For example, Jared Hopworth can take Jon's ribs when he consents, but cannot kill Melanie while she is associated with the Slaughter, and can be captured by Helen, who cannot be killed by Melanie. There is certainly some dream-logic, rock-paper-scissor-style power ranking of avatars. But this episode seems to prove that although Gerry can be harmed by the Desolation, the Eye will still protect him to a certain extent. This also helps with my issue with MAG 4 regarding Gerry's Eye art and tattoos.

While I do believe on a practical level there are differing levels of protection and power for the avatars based on their affiliation, commitment, and abilities, I would also like to return to the single eldritch Entity. Since the entity is one thing, it makes sense that it would hurt its avatars, but not itself. This would mean that Gerry is so deeply connected to the Eye (or at least the arcana of his tattoos is) that the entity will not hurt him because it considers him a part of itself. This is further proven in season 5, as Jon can essentially kill any avatar or person he chooses, but is untouchable to others because of the Eye's protection. The Entity has the ability to make its avatars a part of itself, and refuses to hurt them because it would only cause it more harm.

More specific to the episode, Gerard attempts to associate Saraki with the Eye. This seems fair, as Saraki only watches what Gerry does and does not interfere, merely observing the horror of another. The Eye/Elias is also clearly observing her as an Eye flashes on the CCTV screen and she reports feeling watched later. But again, genre awareness is very important in this series. The goal of the entities is to make people afraid, so those who choose to move on or take practical actions are less likely to remain targets. Saraki plays the game, she goes along with Gerard, muscles through the horrors, and moves on. She never has a paranormal occurrence again.

Character Notes: Sasha is just so incredible with computers. I wish we could see her in TMAGP universe where tech skill are actually useful. I think the key difference between Archivist!Sasha and Archivist!Jon is that, while Jon has an insatiable desire to obtain knowledge he cannot always feed, Sasha has a great ability to obtain knowledge but a duller and more practical drive. This could be part of the reason Elias chooses Jon over her, because his desire would push him to go further, while his information gaps would cause him more anxiety and fear.

Also, I know Martin very well could have googled the Polish phrase or just know a little bit and this is part of his CV lies, but can you imagine a Polish-speaking Martin? Just live in that world for a second.

Still, since Martin canonically lied about speaking Latin and it is likely he speaks little-to-no Polish, the fact that he would research and/or share this phrase with Jon seems to be another lie to get people to like him. While it don't think his lies/manipulations are as malicious as Annabelle makes them seem in season 5, they are definitely present.

[strawberrybasilsorbet]

Jilytober Day 7

Finished this @jilytoberfest mini fic a little late again! I hope you enjoy my try at today's prompt:

October 7th: 🎶“No grave can hold my body down, I’ll crawl home to her” - Work Song by Hozier

It had been after four in the morning when he'd finally stumbled through the door.

James knew this only because Lily had told him. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten home, except that he had crawled.

He twisted the bottle in his hands.

Memories of the ambush came in flashes. Sensations. Incoherent.

The blinding lights of the barrage — the shouting — the pain tearing into his side, across his shoulder. Hitting the ground hard, on his back.

"James? Talk to me, honey."

The blast of the curse that hit Fenwick — the heat of the gore on James's face — the crack of Abbott’s neck—

"Can you eat, baby? You need to eat something."

The desperate scramble to raise his own wand — to push himself forward—

The hideous quiet, after.

In the nearly two years that he'd been fighting this war, James had never deliberately taken a life. Now, he'd taken four.

"I need you to look at me, James." Lily's fingers brushed his cheekbone, turning his face away from the bedroom window. He didn't know how long he'd been leaning against the headboard, staring at the February sky.

The green eyes that he'd loved since he was a boy were inches from his own, wide with concern. Lily trailed her fingers down the side of his neck, to the shoulder that somebody must have healed. She gripped his arm, hard.

"It's a war," Lily said. Her voice was soft, hoarse, as though she'd been crying. The low lamplight cast long shadows over her face. "You did what you had to. No one blames you."

Four lives, and it hadn't been enough. There had been no other survivors.

Lily shook him. "No one, James."

The words, when they came, were choked, incoherent as his memories. "It didn't do any good."

"Bullshit." Lily's face hardened. She took his hand and placed it over the swell of her stomach. "You came home."

A tension rose up between them. Then, abruptly, Lily seized the whisky from his other hand and took a long drink straight from the bottle. She put it down on the bedside table and took his mouth hard with her own.

At first, there was only more numbness, more senseless sensation — the taste of the whisky, the hands in his hair. Then something cracked inside him, and James was kissing Lily with the fervor of a sinner begging for absolution.

A hoarse moan. His fingernails, scraping roughly against her back, were still black with dirt from where he'd dug into the cool earth, after. Forgetting his wand, forgetting the pain in his shoulder. Digging madly with his bare hands.

He couldn't remember what he'd been trying to do. Probably, to bury them.

"You came home," Lily whispered, tearing him from this thoughts as she kissed his neck, his collarbone. She said it over and over, like a prayer. "No one blames you. You came home to us."

And then right and wrong, loss and victory, faded like the long shadows as Lily put out the lamp.

[fanficapologist]

More domestic Targ family interactions! Aside from smut, I do live for tender moments like these. I feel like Aemond must have somehow dreamed of reuniting with Maera when he looked at her when he woke up. And it made me a bit sad because I think for a time, he must have thought such a sight wasn’t possible amymore.

For a moment, I was confused at the mention of a sept as I was wondering whether they were back in King’s Landing and I missed it or if there was a sept in Dragonstone, because the way the series portrayed it, it’s as if island didn’t have other inhabitants, iust the castle.

As a catholic, the High Septon’s speech reminded me of listening to the homily on Sunday mass. Strangely enough, his speech about holding on to one’s faith reminded me of the time when Covid-19 had entered the country. This was around January- February, and while the lockdown hasn’t initiated yet, the priest had already called for prayers to those affected by the virus. Little did we know that was one of the last times we could hear mass “normally”.

Additionally, the way the people converged on Maera’s attacker reminded me of Corlys and Rhaenys’ conversation during Viserys’ tourney for Baelon. About whether the tourney was the proper way to celebrate the arrival of an heir, with wanton violence. I hope it’s not an omen 👀

Fun fact, I studied in a catholic school and they made it a tradition for the entire school to attend mass for important dates (like feast days of certain saints). And the way people suddenly forgot about the call for merch reminded me of times at school where we would be called to do good and right after the mass, you could hear students swearing up a storm. 😂

I wonder how Aemond will take the news 😬

So for me I think even though Dragonstone is mostly the castle, there’s gotta be at least one or two villages because of how much stuff happens there, staff, bringing food in, etc. I don’t think they could all be housed in the castle. So just a lil Sept and a lil gang of inhabitants.

Ahh all links, i didn’t even think of that! So clever!

Now an omen? Hmm… 👀

[lady-bess]

Fallout - Chapter 2 "A Curious Affair"

Jack Daniels x F!Reader Explicit/18+ (Minors DNI please) Chapter Word Count: 6.3k Chapter Tags: Reader introduction, Statesman training, Reader is an Agent, Description of Exercise, Brief Description of Injury, Banter, Tequila is a joker (duh), Friendship, Nicknames, Implied Flirting, Discovery, Anger, Frustration, Bad News.

Series Masterlist | A03 Link | Tumblr Masterlist

<- Previous Chapter (Ch. 1 - Into The Ether)

You've been training with Statesman for four months under agents Tequila and Whiskey, but today's session got suddenly cut short. Worried, and curious as to why, you do your own investigation. What you find, however, was something not intended for your ears to hear.

1:43pm. February 8th, 2018.

“Come on, recruits, pick up the pace!” Agent Tequila shouted down the length of the training hall. This was your fifteenth lap, if memory served, and by now all of you were flagging. Even the fittest ones among you were struggling to continue with this drill, and you asked every God that might be above just how much longer Tequila was going to make you all suffer.

Still, you kept going. One foot in front of the other, breathing steady, heel to toe, heel to toe, heel to-

“Shit!” you cursed, tumbling down onto the ground, grazing your knee. You weren’t hurt badly, but after an intense few days of training topped off with this amount of running, your ankle just gave way from exhaustion. Turns out one of those Gods answered your prayers, although not at all in the way you wanted them to. 

You hissed under your breath as you nursed your ankle, hoping you’d not actually sprained the damn thing. Your preliminary assessment had concluded that no, you hadn’t, and it had just twisted a bit funny on your last stride. Nothing major, but in a way that made it more embarrassing to have to explain.

Agent Tequila blew the whistle which hung around his neck, making everyone in the room come to a stop at various points around the four-hundred metre track. He jogged over to you, standing out like a sore thumb in a room full of Lycra-clad recruits, meanwhile he swanned around in his double denim ensemble, cowboy hat and boots to go with it. At first you’d thought it was ridiculous, but over the last five months you’d come to love it. There was a strange charm to the Statesman ‘uniform’.

“Y’allright?” he asked once he got to be by your side, kneeling down next to you. His strong hands gingerly moved your own fingers from your ankle, and he began giving the muscle and bone a quick assessment.

“Yeah, I’m fine, Tequila,” you said, then winced when he made your foot move in a different direction. His eyes moved from watching how your ankle moved up to yours, and he gave you a cheeky smile – one you’d seen him use on the receptionist of the brewery, and to absolutely no avail.

“Sure seems fine, Mimosa,” he mocked, chuckling under his breath. You rolled your eyes and sighed.

“It will be fine,” you insisted, dragging your leg away from him slightly so that his grip loosened and he let go of you, “and stop calling me by that name. It ain’t even a sure thing that I’m gonna be made an agent yet, so can you cut it out?” you asked.

You’d been training with Statesman since the previous October. Having worked for the British secret service, MI5, for the last decade, you were no stranger to Kingsman. The two organisations had worked closely, from time to time, and after a series of homes all got blown to smithereens last year, it had been your team that worked to rectify the situation. That’s how Statesman came to be on your radar.

Champagne, or “Champ” as you later learned to refer to him as, had been in brief talks with MI5 about the nature of the bombings. He’d learnt, at the same time as your team, that they were targeted attacks on the Kingsman agents, and that he was working with the last three surviving agents to find out who was responsible. Your boss was more than happy to cooperate with Statesman, let them take the case, and all that MI5 would do would be to provide plausible cover stories for the bombings until more information could be given.

To your team, as far as they were concerned, that was the end of it all. But to you, it was only the beginning.

Two weeks after the attacks, you’d received a phone call from Champ. Lord only knows how he got your number, but given the nature of the work you both came from, it really wasn’t of any surprise that he’d found a way to contact you. He phoned wanting to poach you from MI5, and to train you up in the States before becoming an official Kingsman agent. The attacks, unsurprisingly, left their team incredibly dwindled, and part of their alliance with their American cousins was that any resources they needed would be provided by Statesman.

Part of those resources included training new agents.

You’d been the agent to make the link with the United States, and had briefly been involved in making sure Statesman had any and all access needed from MI5 to aid with them taking down Poppy Adam’s Golden Circle. Your perseverance, even when the rest of your team seemed happy to close the door to the United States’ secret service, is what piqued Champ’s interest.

Champ had been working with Galahad and Eggsy to search across Britain, Europe, and America to find suitable individuals who were in a position to be trained up for a role with either organisation. For the time being, the last Kingsman agents would remain in the States until they had enough resources to start fresh back in the UK. Twenty applicants later, and now with ten remaining, you were all fast approaching the end of your training window.

Six months is what you’d been told was the usual length of time that agents were trained with Statesman if they’d come from a similar background. Everyone in your class was on about the same wavelength to you, career wise; there were former secret service, ex-military, and ex-Navy too. All in all, it was enough of a good crew that Champ felt you could get all your training done within the six months, no problem. It was a gruelling regime for you all, but to the ten who had lasted the course, you knew it would be well worth it.

But it wasn’t just Kingsman you’d all been training for. Statesman’s own agent Tequila would be putting boots to the ground in Britain once Eggsy and Galahad made it back, with Statesman now having bought a distillery in Scotland. And, after apparently losing one of their other more senior agents in the field, there were now two positions going with Statesman. Rumour was that the best two agents from this programme would stay here, and then a handful of other agents would head to the UK to be with Kingsman.

You were secretly gunning for one of the Statesman places, and Tequila had been one of the first to discover this. He’d kept it to himself, of course, but it didn’t mean that there wasn’t a fair bit of teasing that came with it. But he understood your reasoning – after years of working in the British secret service, you were desperate for a change of pace. You had no surviving family and, as per the recommendation of your previous organisation, had never married or had any children. There really was no reason to go back.

On paper, you were an ideal candidate. No ties, happy to move wherever you were needed, and with a track record of being able to perform to a high standard time and time again. Champ was impressed with your prior achievements, and had made no secret of it since you started training. But, to be fair to everyone else, you weren’t the only one with an impressive background. It’s why you never got your hopes up too high.

Tequila chuckled to himself again before winking at you playfully. He stood up slightly and outstretched his arm for you to take, which you did, hoisting yourself up. Putting a little weight on your foot proved to not make the injury any worse, so you happily wiggled your ankle around a little until you felt happy enough to walk on it properly. Once you were stable, you turned to Tequila. The boyish grin on his face showed you that he’d been waiting to see if you were alright before the next slue of bantering left his lips, and once he opened his mouth you were proved right in your assumption.

“Oh, come on London, you know you’ll be fine. I don’t know all the ins n’ outs of what Champ’s got planned, but if you ask me he’d be a damn fool not to grant you one of the positions,” he said, finally releasing you from his hold once you’d found your balance again.

“Yeah, well, as flattering as that is Tequila, it isn’t up to you. And I do have a name, you know? It isn’t London,” you snarked, now moving with the rest of the class and Tequila towards some benches at the side of the track.

That was another habit Tequila had picked up since you all started – wherever you were from, is what he called the recruits. His reasoning was that he wanted to get people into the mindset of not using real names, even during training, but none of you bought that excuse for a second. You’d all come from backgrounds where you didn’t need it explaining why codenames and monikers were important, nor was it something any of you would need to get into the habit of doing. No, this was just another of Tequila’s many ways of teasing the recruits. You all saw that.

“I know that, but it’s way more fun shouting out run faster London, or pick up the pace Madrid!” he said, laughing to himself as you got closer to the seats. You rolled your eyes, catching the gaze of the one he referred to as “Madrid”, who just shook her head and chuckled to herself.

“Madrid”, better known as Astrid, had been your closest friend throughout this whole process, and you’d really bonded with her these last few months. You were fortunate in that there wasn’t really anyone you didn’t get along with on this programme, but in stark contrast to when you were training with MI5, creating personal relationships was not discouraged. If anything, the agents training you encouraged it. Tequila had once said something about it being good to know the ins and outs of who you’re working with – “you never know what situation you’re about to enter, but if you at least know who you’re going into it with, you’ll always be okay”, he’d said.

It had felt strange at first, and in the first week or so it was almost a bit forced. It was like you were speed dating nineteen other people simultaneously, trying to figure out their icks, gripes, and what made them tick. But, eventually, everything slotted into place. Genuine friendships were forged, and even those you didn’t know as well, you knew enough to know you trusted them with your life.  

“You’re an ass, Jefferson,” you whispered to Tequila, using his real name before heading off to sit next to Astrid on the bench. As you caught eyes with him again once you’d sat, he had put on a face of mock disgust at you, which neither you nor Astrid could stop yourselves from giggling at. Tequila shook his head before turning his attention to others in the group.

“Hey, you took a pretty bad fall back there? Are you okay?” Astrid asked. You turned to her and smiled, nodding. In spite of having run the same distance, and feeling like you were about to pass out from exhaustion, Astrid just looked like she’d done a few start jumps. Her curly brown hair still retained its bounce in her high ponytail, and there was just the beginnings of a flush creeping through onto her cheeks, her olive-tanned skin otherwise looking absolutely flawless. She was annoying like that – but you loved her.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Not twisted or anything, must have just put it down wrong,” you said, shrugging slightly. The walk from the track to the bench had stopped the momentary throbbing of your ankle, so another hour or so and you’d be absolutely fine again.

“Put it down wrong, or…did someone get distracted?” Astrid teased, jabbing your side and nodding over towards Tequila. Your eyes followed her head tilt to see him stood, arms crossed, looking back over at the two of you again. He was grinning slightly, clearly trying to hide it, but failing immensely.

The thing is, for as attractive as Tequila was, he really wasn’t your type. Nothing wrong with the guy, he was lovely and as sweet as one could be, but he still had this boyish charm which you assumed guys lost the ability to have after the age of twenty-six. But ten years on, and with him being the same age as you, that was no longer a trait you looked for in men. You wanted someone to not only be slightly older than you, but to also act their age. Tequila was fun, and you dare say that he’d make for a fantastic friend once training was over, but any more than that? Not a chance.

Astrid, on the other hand, was slightly younger than you. Newly turned thirty, she’d come to this training after seven and a half years working with Spain’s equivalent of MI5. She’d enjoyed the job immensely but, like you, was looking for a change of pace. And, by the look of the increased redness to her cheeks, you did wonder how this “new life” of hers would start once training was over.

“Are you sure you’re not projecting there slightly, Astrid?” you teased, looking back at her and chuckling to yourself. Her hazel eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open slightly, but with one quip of your eyebrow up she knew she was a goner. She huffed to herself.

“I-oh! Fine, okay, yes, I-,” she looked left and right to see if any of the other recruits were listening in, but she deemed the coast clear enough to whisper in your ear, “I really like the guy, but I don’t think he looks at me like that,” she said, a little coy in that last part, which made your heart break. Astrid really was gorgeous and, if you were that way inclined, would probably happily get in line to take her out on a date. Tequila would be a fool if he didn’t find her attractive.

“I’m sure he would, Astrid. But you know the rules – existing agents and recruits can’t get too close and personal with each other,” you said, hoping it would land with her and put her mind at each. She smiled taut and shrugged.

“I know that but…I see how he looks at other girls. How he looks at you. Hell, I’ve heard how he talks to you!” she said, chuckling to herself, “I’m just saying, rules were made to be broken, and I think he’d break them for you,” she said.

You rolled your eyes so aggressively it almost hurt, making Astrid laugh with you.

“He might tease me, Astrid, but I can assure you it’s just because I’m easy to rile up. Nothing more to it than that! He gives me shit and, unlike the rest of you, I give it back to him. He just likes the banter,” you explained. In your head, that’s all this was. Harmless teasing to pass the time while training kicked your ass.

“Sure, if you say so,” Astrid said, sniggering slightly. Before you could interject further, insisting that you had no intention of standing on the toes of her schoolgirl-like crush she was harbouring, Tequila’s voice cut through the room. Every pair of eyes turned to focus on the cowboy, waiting intently for the next gruelling task he was about to set.

“Alright, good work today everyone. Y’all did just under four miles’ worth of sprints before London here hit the deck and got you out of doing any more,” he began, looking over and winking at you. He was too easy to give quips back to that he’d even given you a slight pause in his speech to let you speak.

Asshole.

“Eat shit, Tequila,” you said, flipping him off before and then laughing with everyone else in the room at the exchange. Tequila grinned, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t know why I expected anything else from you,” he chuckled, then turned back to the recruits, “Now, for this afternoon, I want-,” he began, but was soon cut off by the opening of the training room door.

All recruits, and Tequila, turned in their seats to see who it was that had come through the glass doors – everyone had turned up to training today, so you all knew it wasn’t one of your fellow colleagues. But your question soon went answered – Agent Whiskey, a slim woman with cropped brown hair, came cantering into the room towards Tequila. You were used to her making an appearance from time to time, and you’d all had training sessions with her one on one, but today there was something very different about how she appeared.

Whiskey looked tired – not just a bit sleepy, like she might have been up a bit late the night before, but the kind of fatigue that sets in when anxiety is rife. Her eyes, which were usually bright and cheery, were laced with an almost panic, and as she came further into the room she completely ignored all of you sitting on the benches.

“Clara?” Tequila said, slight worry in his tone as he turned all his attention towards her. You all knew, in that moment, that whatever agent Whiskey was bringing to him was serious. He rarely used his colleagues' real names, and you don’t think you could recount a time where you’d heard him sound as concerned as he was right now.

Clara reached Tequila and instantly got on her tiptoes to whisper into his ear. He was too far away, and she was too quiet, for anyone to make out what had been said. But the look on Tequila’s face said all that was needed – his worry had vanished, along with the playful smile he’d had for most the day, and in its place was an ice cold fury none of you recognised. You’d all seen him angry before, and you’d witnessed him needing to discipline agents in the past, but this was new. This was a rage never before seen.

As Whiskey backed away, scarpering back towards the door with the same speed she’d entered with, Tequila’s jaw flexed a little. Clearly whatever he’d been told was something that required some processing, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt as you looked at him. He was your mentor, yes, and a certain distance had to be maintained. But as you watched him clearly struggle with something, you wanted nothing more than to swing your arm around him and ask him if he was okay.

“Sir?” one of your colleagues, Schmidt, said. His voice cracked, and in comparison to usual he sounded terrified to even speak. It took Tequila a second to even register if someone had said anything, and by the time he did he had ten pairs of eyes fixed on him. Sighing shallowly, he shook his head a few times, almost like he was trying to shake a bug out of his hat, and then cleared his throat.

“Class dismissed,” he said, striding over to the door to follow Whiskey, providing no more context as to what was going on.

“But, si-,” Schmidt began, much to his immediate regret.

“I said, class dismissed!” Tequila bellowed, snapping his head back towards the group only to yell at them, then heading back on course and storming through the glass door.

A silence fell across the group for a moment, agents exchanging glances and providing each other with unknowing shrugs. There were no puzzle pieces any of you could even fathom beginning to put together, so slowly but surely everyone all stood from the benches and filed out of the room one by one.

“What the hell do you think that was about?” Astrid asked once you were back in your dorms. The rooms weren’t big, housing four agents in each, but they did the trick. Each one was equipped with an en-suite, two bunk beds, and a small seating area near two wardrobes that were for all agent’s belongings. You’d been lucky in that two agents who had shared the dorm had already been sent home, so now the small cabin-like living quarters were just for Astrid and you, but they still made for a rather intimate living arrangement.

“I dunno,” you said, sinking down onto your bottom bunk and untying your shoelaces. “I’ve never seen him like that before,” you said.

“Me neither,” Astrid said, moving to get some clothes out of the wardrobe to change into. “Do you think someone should go check in on him?” she asked. You shrugged, pulling your shoes off and tucking them under the bunk bed, then standing to make work on getting out of your gym clothes (you and Astrid had long since stopped caring about being in your underwear in front of one another).

“Perhaps,” you said, unfastening the gym jacket and hanging it on a chair, “But who?”. Astrid shrugged, grabbing a few more toiletries.

“I mean, personally babe, I’d vote for you. Even if you’re not interested in him, like you insist,” you rolled your eyes, “you can’t deny that the two of you are good friends already. If he was going to confide in anyone, I’d put money on it being you,” she explained.

“I suppose it wouldn’t do any harm in trying,” you said, now removing your t-shirt so you were just in leggings and a sports bra. “He didn’t give us any official work, so I think I’ll head to the library after freshening up. I’ll take the route via the labs and see if he’s there,” you said, already mapping out a route in your head of where to go. Astrid nodded.

“Good idea! Want me to come with you?” she asked, but you shook your head.

“No, it’s alright. If I do manage to catch him, I doubt he’d appreciate feeling ganged up on. And if I don’t see him, I’ll only go and work on my case files after, so I’d wanna be alone for that anyway,” you said. 

The Statesman case files were one of the most laborious parts of your training, because you felt like they were something you could already do. Research and reconnaissance were the first two things you learnt with MI5, and you’d mastered data collection before you’d ever been handed a weapon. But things were upside down here, and the practical side of being an agent was pushed far heavier than anything involving a computer.

You weren’t sure why, but you’d all had to suck it up and accept the process. As part of your training, everyone had been given three cases which had been cracked by Statesman, and it was up to each recruit to get as much information on the targets and the crime as possible, to show their skills using the databases. Whiskey had given everyone a few group sessions on how data collection was done with Statesman, but aside from that these files had to be done completely independently.

They were becoming the bane of your existence, and even though you still had several weeks left to build a solid case file on everything you’d been given, the task was so soul destroying, and you’d been putting it off for ages. But, with an afternoon now suddenly free, it seemed as good a time as any to work on them more.

“No worries!” Astrid said, “I’m just gonna hop in the shower quickly, then the bathroom is free for you!”, and with that she scurried into the en-suite. You smiled and collected together what you wanted to change into, then packed a bag for the library while you waited for the bathroom to be free.

One shower and a clean change of clothes later, and you were off to the Statesman library. The usual route there was only about five minutes from the dorms – you’d head into the main building, up a flight of stairs, and then it was your first door on the left. But the library was also accessible through an elevator which ran from the lab in the basement room, all the way up. That was the route you were taking today.

Going round the back of the building, you headed down a flight of stairs and through some glass doors to the lower levels of the Statesman building. Access wasn’t restricted for recruits in any of the main parts of the building, just to anywhere with sensitive material pertaining to current cases, so you knew you weren’t going to be in trouble down here if found. That didn’t stop the fact you felt nerves rushing through your body at a million miles an hour.

The lab was quiet upon entering its corridors – too quiet, you noted. Normally there would be Whiskey’s lab assistants running round, machines whirring, and doors slamming as the team were scrambling to constantly update and innovate the technology that Statesman agents used. And, with the need to completely supply their British cousins with everything they needed, it was particularly unusual to not see or hear a sound.

The lab was simple in design – a long corridor spanning the length of the building, with rooms jettisoning off on the left and the right. At the end of the corridor was a metal elevator shaft next to a flight of stairs – that’s where you were headed.

Within each room of the lab there were smaller rooms that went off from them; supply closets, offices, and such. You had decided with Astrid that if you didn’t see Tequila in one of the main rooms, you’d walk away, and leave it. But if you caught him leaving, or noticed him in one of the main lab rooms, you’d consider heading in if it looked like you could do so without getting into trouble.

Halfway down the corridor, and still there was nothing. You’d found one lab assistant in one of the rooms, lost deep into a stack of paperwork, and had decided that they were clearly not anyone worth disturbing right now. You sighed to yourself, clutching your files to your chest, and figured you probably would come to a dead end. Sure, there were still more rooms to check, but if you’d found nothing this far done, then surely-

You stopped dead in your tracks.

A loud bang came from the other end of the corridor, and suddenly the silence you’d been met with thus far made sense. Outside of one lab stormed Tequila, followed closely by Whiskey and another half dozen lab techs. They all looked petrified, meanwhile Tequila had that same look of anger on his face that you’d all seen not half an hour ago.

Guessing that this wouldn’t actually be a good time to make your presence known, you kept to one side of the corridor, not deliberately trying to hide (there wasn’t anything to use anyway), but just keeping well clear of whatever was going on. Stood still, you listened in as best you could.

“Jefferson, you can’t go in guns blazing!” Whiskey said, hurrying after Tequila. Her voice was louder than normal, her pitch slightly higher as she conveyed whatever urgency she needed to get across.

“Why the hell not, Ginger?!” he spat back, spinning on his heels. You furrowed your brow at the use of the name Ginger, wondering if that was an old moniker, or just a nickname.

“Champ’s in there! Look, I know you’re pissed at Jack; we all are! But this won’t make things any better if you go in there and give him shit!” she pleaded.

“Oh, you’ve changed your fuckin’ tune!” he said, almost shouting at this point. You’d never heard Tequila so angry in all the time you’d known him, and the sound of his voice bellowing out into the room actually made you flinch. “What’s the matter with you both? You and Champ have gone fuckin’ soft lately, and I don’t get it!” he continued.

One of Clara’s lab assistants cleared their throat and tried to get the attention of the pair of them, but to no success. They’d noticed you down the corridor, and the two of you had made slightly frantic eye contact with each other – for as much as you had every right to be here, you knew you were definitely overhearing something that was not for your ears.

“Jack fucking Daniels can rot in hell for what he did, Clara,” Tequila roared, slightly towering over her now. Even she looked frightened, and you knew she’d worked with Tequila for years. Surely by now she’d have seen every emotion he had to offer?

Your mind was whirring at a million miles an hour. What could have possibly got Tequila so wound up? What was Whiskey keeping from him? And who the hell was Jack Daniels? You’d met all the agents that you’d be working with by now, either in person or over video call if they were out on active duty, and nobody fit the bill with a name like that.

But then, before you could hope to gain any more information from their conversation, they both finally listened to the persistent lab tech who had seen you just a moment or two before. Whiskey and Tequila snapped their heads down the corridor towards you, and you could do nothing other than give a slightly coy smile towards them.

Whiskey sighed, shaking her head before patting Tequila’s shoulder.

“Go to her. And calm the fuck down before you come back to me,” she said, then leaving his side and heading into a lab room opposite to the group, a few of the lab techs following behind. Tequila watched her go into the room, and you watched from a distance as every muscle in his body seemingly gave up. His shoulders, normally broad and on display for everyone to see, went limp, and he hunched over slightly.  For the first time in months, Tequila looked like a shell of a man.

Tentatively you walked towards him, still clutching the files you had to head to the library, using them almost like a shield from whatever fight you might have to defend yourself from. You weren’t sure what the best course of action was here – did you speak first, or did you wait for him? Your feet kept moving your body forward, but your mind was playing catch up, still trying to digest what you’d heard. It wasn’t until he looked up from the ground, his eyes meeting yours, that you snapped out of it.

“I-I’m sorry,” you said, “I rather feel like I shouldn’t have heard any of that.”

Tequila huffed out a short, breathy, laugh, then shook his head. There was a smile on his face, but it was forced and laced with venom and sarcasm – not the kind of sarcasm you were used to getting from him either, if you had to hazard a guess.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he put his hands on his hips as he stared you down, stepping two paces closer to you. “What are ya’ even doin’ down here?” he asked.

You tried to avert your gaze from him, but it was no use. Every time you tried he just stepped closer to you, slowly but surely making it so that he was almost flush against you. There was nowhere to escape from him, as the wall behind you so aptly reminded you as you attempted to step away from Tequila. For the first time ever, you were actually afraid of the man in front of you. A man who, just an hour ago, was nursing your hurt ankle and cracking jokes with you.

“We were worried about you, Tex,” you said, hoping that by using his nickname it would help to diffuse the situation. But if the piercing black in his eyes gave you anything to go by, you already knew it hadn’t done its trick. Whatever was going on, he was so angry and bitter that not even your friendship was going to help cut through how he felt.

“Who’s we?” he asked, arms now folded across his chest.

“The recruits. We ain’t ever seen you look as…shaken up, as you did,” you said. Your chest rose and fell with an ever quickening speed, a panic rising in you that no matter what you said, it was always somehow the wrong thing. Tequila raised his eyebrows and then shook his head, his face contorted with almost a disapproving glance.

“Shaken up?” he said, sarcasm and spite laced in his voice. He clearly was not happy with the fact others thought he was worried about anything, let alone that those same people then had concern for him. When he next spoke, using your real name, you knew how pissed he was. He never used your name.

“Have you come down here to spy on me, is that it?” he asked, getting ever closer. The anger that lived within him was ready to completely take over, you could just tell. That also meant you needed to get out of here, and fast. This anger wasn’t for you, so there was no reason why you should bear the brunt of it.

“No! Nothing like that!” you said, eyes wide and panting slightly, hoping that he understood the sincerity in your words.

“Well then what?!” he asked, voice now raised and filling the entire corridor.

“I just…I was going to go to the library, and I thought if I came by the labs, I might find you. I just wanted to check up on you, Tequila. I didn’t intend to snoop and hear…that. Whatever that was, I- I won’t say a word to the others,” you said.

“No, you’re right, you won’t,” Tequila said. “You’ll go about your day, and forget all of this. Forget you saw me, forget you saw Clara, and definitely forget the name Jack Daniels,” he said. He slowly started to back away from you, clearly realising just how much closer he’d gotten to you. “If anyone asks, you didn’t see me. I was never here,” he said.

“O-okay,” you said, slowly making your way towards the elevator shaft, using the wall as a guide as you maintained eye contact with Tequila. You had so many questions you wanted to ask, so much information you needed for any of what you just saw to make the slightest bit of sense, but you dared not speak again.

“Go,” he began, “See you tomorrow, London,” he said, before turning on his heels and heading towards the door that Whiskey went through just a minute before. You let out the biggest sigh of relief in your entire life, then made a dash for the elevator door. You simply couldn’t get out of here fast enough. Jamming the ‘open’ button, the door pinged open, and you stepped inside.

“What the fuck was all that about?” you whispered to yourself as the door closed in front of you, taking you upstairs to the library.

Your nerves were still shot by the time the door opened again onto the second floor, and you stepped out into the library. There was absolutely no way that you’d be able to concentrate on any of these case files now, but you also couldn’t possibly go back to your dorm just yet. With how angry Tequila had been, you decided that you would do as he asked – you’d claim that you never saw him, and you’d forget the entire conversation. It wouldn’t be fair to Astrid to involve her in something Tequila clearly didn’t want getting around, especially as you were confident that you shouldn’t even know anything as it is now.

Finding a seat in the corner of the room with a Statesman computer, you set down the case files and opened them up to try and get your head around something, anything, that wasn’t what you’d just witnessed.

But you were trained for this. And curiosity might have killed the cat, but nothing was ever said about curiosity’s effect on people. Right?

Sighing to yourself, you pulled up a new tab on the Statesman database. Checking over your shoulder, and confident nobody else was nearby, you began your search. Even if you weren’t going to involve anyone else in this discovery, that didn’t mean you couldn’t try to find answers for yourself. Besides, if you didn’t it would just eat away at you for the rest of the time you were here, and you highly doubted that Tequila would ever give you anything to go on given how he reacted downstairs.

Tentatively, your fingers danced over the keyboard. Logic dictated that this Jack Daniels must be someone Tequila was on bad terms with for some reason, but it clearly went deeper than that. The anger that was present, that wasn’t just any kind of anger - that wasn’t the frustration you’d felt when a perpetrator really got under your skin, nor was that the anger you felt when someone got away. No, that was anger which was fuelled by betrayal. An old friend, perhaps? Or, more logically, a co-worker?

You began to type, your fingers shaking slightly from the adrenaline that still coursed through you from having felt that raw emotion from Tequila, a man you never thought capable of displaying such. And then, you hit ‘send’, and your eyes widened at the results for the following:

Former Statesman Agent Jack Daniels.

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