#yes he's Flamboyant. yes he's Assertive. no he is Not Taking Questions At This Time.

[bailey-reaper]

How about a drabble of Barok serving as Klint's judicial assistant in his younger years, before he officially studies law to become a prosecutor? I like the idea of him becoming interested in and familiar with law from his brother. "Judicial Assistant van Zieks" has a certain ring to it.

Work Experience

Notes:

Oh that's a lovely idea, anon! I'd imagine that by the time he's promoted to 'Director of Prosecutions', Klint would most likely have been a very senior barrister known as a Q.C. ('Queen's Counsel'); they're also known colloquially as 'silks' because they 'take silk' (i.e. acquire a robe made of silk) upon attaining this lofty rank.

When a barrister becomes a silk/QC, they often only handle the most difficult (and expensive) work, but they will usually have a junior barrister assisting them (i.e. doing all the work, though I doubt Klint would conduct himself like that).

I can very much imagine Klint taking Barok as his junior and allowing himself to be 'led' by the latter. The term 'leading' basically means the barrister in charge of conducting the case where there's more than one involved.

Content Warnings: legal gubbins (that's the technical term btw... it's not); I take liberties with all things van Zieks, as usual...

──────≪⊰✥⊱≫───────

Klint's office was the very best place to study as far as Barok was concerned - the vast table in the centre of the room allowed him to spread his books out while the peaceful calm was greatly conducive to reflective reading. It was as good as, if not superior to, going to the university library. "Barok!" Klint said as he entered his room and shrugged out of his formal scarlet jacket, tossing it haphazardly on a coat rack, "What a pleasant surprise-- drink?" "Good afternoon brother," he looked up and nodded in greeting, "Mm, yes please. How was court?" "Fairly standard stuff," Klint sighed as he took two glasses and poured a measure of whiskey into each. Truth be told it was yet more of the depressing hypocrisy that grew ever-apparent to him day by day, but there was no need to sour a visit from his brother with such things. He set the glass down beside Barok and held up his own in a toasting gesture. Their glasses chimed melodically before both took a sip. Barok coughed a little, still unaccustomed to way whiskey punched the back of his throat when he swallowed it, "I imagine you were splendid, as always." "Oh?" Klint chuckled, his brother truly did worship him. Then, while he leaned against his desk, an idea came to him, "Hmmm! That's a thought..." "Huh?" "How about you take on a little work experience by my side, hm? I'm sure it would be fun to have you as my junior counsel for a while." "What? Really?" Barok looked simultaneously shocked and delighted, "I'd very much like to learn at your side, brother, I imagine there is much you could teach me about court etiquette and procedure!" "Then it's settled! I'll write to your professor and tell him you're to undertake a period of practical study beside me. After all, you're planning to become a prosecutor are you not?" he knew full well his brother intended to follow in his footsteps, which was incredibly flattering-- though he did have his reservations about what such a career might do to his darling brother's character. The younger nodded, "I should very much like to become a prosecutor." "Very good," he set his glass down and sat at his desk, taking a sheet of paper and his quill in hand, "We'll have that letter sent out today!" ──────≪⊰✥⊱≫─────── Barok had been to court many, many times but mostly to observe by way of the public gallery when safe to do so, or from a corner of the courtroom once he started being targeted due to Klint's ever-growing renown as the 'bane of criminals'. This, however, was on an entirely different scale: today he would be assisting with the proceedings -- a participant rather than a spectator. "You look nervous," Klint remarked as he stood beside his younger brother. "What... what do you mean?" "Your eyes," he said, chuckling behind his fist, "They're darting all over the place like a furtive rabbit's" "....O.. Oh..." he took a deep breath and shook his head, "I... didn't sleep much last night, my mind seemed to want to go over the case details again and again." "Mmmm, I had forgotten how it felt to be quite that nervous in court... still, it's good you feel that unsettled sense in the pit of your stomach. One should never be blasé about standing in this sombre hall of justice. It should always create a sense of disquiet, that is how you know you yet hold the essence of what it means to be an officer of the court," Klint took a glass and a decanter from under the bench and filled it with a small measure, "But, here, it doesn't hurt to settle your nerves." "Is that... whiskey?!" Barok uttered. "Yes, go on, for your nerves, little brother." He took a sip as directed, and choked again; still not used to that fiery punch in his throat, "T...thank you." Suddenly there were three loud knocks at the door followed by the court clerk's booming voice: "All persons who have anything to do before my Lords - the Queen's Justices - at the Central Criminal Court, draw near and give your attendance. God Save the Queen!" the clerk bowed to the judge then took a seat in the corner so as to record a transcript of the proceedings.

The Judge sat down, "In the name of her Majesty, Queen Victoria, I declare this court to be in session. God Save the Queen," the middle-aged man, whose hair was starting to fail him, though it was hidden under his white wig, cast his gaze over the persons in attendance, "Lord van Zieks, I see the prosecution has a junior member today." "Correct, my lord," Klint replied with a smile, "This is my younger brother, Barok, he desires to become a prosecutor, so I thought it only proper for him to accompany me on a few excursions so as to get a feel for the thing." "Quite right and very good," the Judge nodded, "I bid you welcome, young man, I hope you will learn much from your older brother, he is a skilled prosecutor and an invaluable asset to this court." "Y... Yes sir!" Barok said, standing straight to attention. Klint chuckled before placing a hand over his heart and bowing, "Thank you, my Lord, you honour me." "Now, Counsel, your opening statement, if you please." "With pleasure, my Lord..." ──────≪⊰✥⊱≫─────── Barok dutifully passed evidence and case notes to his brother as the case progressed, while also taking notes of things that struck him as important in terms of procedure, witness testimony and the general way in which matters progressed. He also made a few notes on Klint's control of the courtroom and general demeanour; the way he eloquently developed his arguments and appealed to the Jury with a seemingly effortless, poetic grace. It was a true masterclass in courtroom conduct and he longed to commit every second of it to his memory so that he might mimic his brother's style in the future. "I already told ya!" snapped the witness in the box, "I ain't never had nothin' to do with the gobshite!" Klint sighed while removing a handsome goblet, fashioned from silver and crystal, from under the bench and filling it with a measure of whiskey, "I'm going to overlook your use of a double negative, no doubt you'd have no sense of what that actually means, and presume that you're trying to deny all knowledge of the accused." "Double wot?" "Never mind all that, " Klint took a sip, startling Barok-- was his brother drinking in court?! The Judge didn't seem remotely bothered by it, in fact no one said a word. Did he do this often?? His brother continued, "You say you don't know that man in the dock." "That's right!" "Are you sure about that?" "W-Wot?! Why'd you keep askin' me that?! If you got somethin' to say about it then say it!" the witness looked flustered and vaguely guilty to Barok's untrained eye. "I'll do better than that," Klint said, setting his goblet down, "I'll show that you're lying to me, to this court and these fine men and women of the jury." "... U..urk..." the witness bit their bottom lip, "Yer lyin'! There ain't no proof to be had!" "I don't play games of bluff, good sir. Like any lawyer worth his salt: when I assert, I go on to prove what I'm saying," he held up a document, "Do you know what this is?" ".... Looks like a bit'o paper..." "It's a contract, signed between you and the accused. A... 'gentlemans' agreement of goods and for services rendered –– you, sir, would receive the stolen property from the accused and his associates, then sell it on for them via your Pawnbrokery!" "W-Whaaaaat?!" the witness recoiled, "W...Where'd you get that?!" "It was well hidden, I'll give you that," Klint replied with a smile, "But not well enough to escape my notice. You're as involved in this intricate criminal fencing enterprise as the accused!" The court descended into a shocked furor... ──────≪⊰✥⊱≫─────── "I think this is a good place to adjourn proceedings for today," the Judge observed after the breakdown of the witness, "Bailiff, have that man arrested and handed over to the Yard so he can answer questions about his involvement in this sordid affair!" The bailiff did as ordered and apprehended the witness.

"Thank you to both Counsel's, and our young junior, for their assistance today. We shall continue again first thing on Monday. Court is adjourned!" the Judge rose, nodding to the courtroom once before leaving.

Klint turned to his little brother and grinned, "Well? How was your first real day in court, brother?" "It... it was amazing!" Barok replied, eyes practically twinkling, "I was so awed by your performance! You truly are an exceptional legal mind and practitioner, brother!" He laughed, "Stop it... you'll make me blush!" "It's true! Though, I must say... I had no idea one could drink in court or kick the prosecutor's bench... those were most flamboyant and striking displays!" "Most people can't," Klint conceded, "But, well, it seems I have a flair for the dramatic. It must run in the blood... Our lord father was a similarly passionate man when it came to matters of court –– even when he occupied the bench as a Law Lord. Many a lawyer would refer to him as 'Good Lord Kicking' behind his back!" he laughed at the thought. "Wow... really?!" "Yes, really!"

[lettrespromises]

> LettresPromises informs you : You have one notification.

> Letter object : The tamer of the flamboyant flames of passion.

> Todoroki Shouto sent you a letter, would you like to read it?

@mangosnakesandpeaches​ sent a letter :  ❝heyo! its aydudenoway, just moved to my writing account! request number 1/3 : okay okay, so ya know how people always tend to write like, dom shouto and sub reader? what about dom reader and sub shouto. like, damn as much as i like dom shouto, kinda want to see some dom reader nglll. could this be a drabble/imagine and not too too graphic NSFW? i hope this is okay! ahhh okay okay so idk if you started writing my request (dom reader) or not, but could i add onto it real quick? breathless Shouto is all im saying. im so sorryyy for this being so sudden! if you can't add it, thats okay!❞

author’s letter :  ❝dear @mangosnakesandpeaches​, thank you once more for trusting me with your ideas and letting me express through words the love i have for this man and this man only!! hot take but i do kind of feel you.... like.... shouto is low-key a sub to me (aside from pegging ofc.) anywhoopsies!!! i hope you’ll like this and i tried not to make it nsfw which was a bit confusing but?? nonetheless, i hope you’ll enjoy this promised letter.❞

Genre : Erotic but not explicit smut, fluff. (Please consider that the characters are aged up.) Warnings : Cursing, foreplay, innuendos, sexual deeds. Word count : 1.6K.

After personally handing crushing losses to many villains throughout the entire week, admiring the hint of a shy smile adorning the face of civilians torn by fear as a gleam of hope while they’re being saved, secretly glancing at the newfound scars worn as medals on the abused flesh of your skin when no one is looking, any hero would be mentally and physically drained, as if your body was just the host of vacuity. And rightfully so.

Thus came the ever so needed tradition of self-care with Shouto, this renaissance of an evening was held every Friday night ever since you both graduated from U.A. No word was needed, the sole acknowledged information of today’s date was enough for the both of you to understand that today had your name as a synonymous of self-care written all over it.

This context explains why you found yourself enveloped in Shouto’s embrace, a physical testimony of just how much he loved and cherished your presence, if you will. These oh so special Friday nights also drew a contrast with your everyday life as heroes, it was also the perfect opportunity to say (or paradoxically declare in a silent manner) just how much your presence was needed to one another as the cons of being a pro-hero weighed on your mind like the sword of Damocles. To put it more harshly, the inevitable curse of never knowing if the day you were bound to spend together would be the last represented said cons.

His arms found shelter on the area above your hipbones, and every time he would let his genetically given large palms roam on this area, he would always wonder if said area had been carved to fit perfectly the form of his hands— Shouto liked to think that perhaps this was yet another sign that you were meant to be, he always tried to find poetic parallels everywhere.

His thumbs were brushing invisible shapes on the flesh of your hips left bare by the intervention of Shouto’s hands, these brushes were anything but calculated, yes, they did respect a certain common pattern—  but each time they felt similar, they always felt new at once. The semi-random nature of his gestures were the living proof that the documentary being played on the TV was semi-interesting as well.

You, on the other one hand, were sheltered in Shouto’s warm and welcoming embrace, your head fit right in the crook of his neck, and as per usual, Todoroki found yet again another poetic parallel drawn by your jointed souls. Nonetheless, if Shouto’s stare was focused on the succession of bright lights radiating off of the TV, yours was laying on the personification of your source of happiness— your boyfriend himself. After all, wasn’t staring at him way more interesting than some documentary being played? Nothing could compare to some well-deserved ‘staring at Shouto session’, but said sessions came with the slight danger of being caught, oh well…

« Love, I believe you’re doing it again. » Shouto blurted out which made you unconsciously flinch in response.

« Doing what exactly, mhm? » Oh, the fake tone of innocence could have been heard from miles away, and it sure as hell didn’t go unknown under Shouto’s radar.

« You know what I’m hinting at— staring. » But this time, it was his turn to stare at you, it was a mutual game now.

« You’re saying that as if staring at you was illegal, I mean, looking this hot should totally be considered illegal. » Shouto’s blood rushed under your newly left comment, causing his cheeks to adopt a rosy tone.

« Y/N, I’m a pro-hero, I’m not quite sure I can be considered as a villain… Is looking a certain way truly illegal? Should I change something about my appearance? » His heterochromatic eyes found yours, and a certain desire for reassurance chimed in the way.

« Shouto, baby— of course not! You’re perfect the way you are, I was only messing around, you know? » His desire for reassurance fades away and instead, you are met with a gleam of content as you continue :

« What I meant to say was… You’re so handsome, so out of this world… » Each word leaving your lips and connecting to his eardrums was accompanied with the fitting gestures to emphasize just a bit more the comforting undertone of your speech. It all began with a swift shift of position— you were now sitting on Shouto’s lap, a crucial position which guaranteed you the upper hand of physical exchanges.

« You’re divine, Shouto… » The longer your eyes met his, the more you were secretly convinced that he was indeed out of this world, thus, you underlined this statement by tracing an invisible line from the corner of his lips to his jawline under his intrigued facial expression. An intrigued expression, perhaps, but he was begging to hear more.

« You’re have all the qualities one could dream of, don’t you? » This rhetorical question was signed with the manifestation of the presence of your lips upon the flesh of his neck, Shouto let out a gasp he ignored he was holding and tilted his head to give you more room to play with as an answer, longing for the next lines of your tirade. Instead, the soft pressures left by the pecks were replaced with biting motions, and interchanged with sucking motions at times. This newfound balance of pleasure on Shouto’s newly bruised skin was the cause of a chain reaction— first, his lips parted as if he was gasping for oxygen, he didn’t need it, it was more like a precautious deed than a clear remedy to something he needed; then, his lids closed shut, in anticipation of the bliss which was bound to course every inch of his body; eventually, a deadly sin named gluttony got the best of him and encouraged him to let his palms wander on your derrière. A bold action quickly reprimanded by a quick slapping motions on the back of his hands.

« No touching, got it? Keep your hands to yourself and maybe, just maybe I’ll reward you. » A sentence so embedded with delicious sin which became amplified under the spell of your whispers, right against the shell of his ears. There was no vocal response on his end, only a line of chills from the back of his neck to the bottom of his spine, sure, it wasn’t vocal, but it was such a sweet way to respond to the temptation.

This comment would be stating the obvious but you had the monopoly of the game, you controlled the fate of the protagonists and bent the rules your way— some would call it cheating, you’d call it having the world at your feet. An adventurous hand traveled underneath the fabric of Shouto’s shirt and, on its journey, felt the various kinds of reliefs sculpted on his body. The rock hard sensation of his abdomen against the soft flesh of your palm was one of the sweetest contrasts. Your hand followed a vertical path— first, a journey near his pectoral muscles, and a tragic fall to his growing bulge right beneath you, you couldn’t help but bow your lips into a grin which echoed to a thousand of hidden desires and beyond while Todoroki looked at you with pleading eyes.

« Aren’t you such a good boy to me? You did as I said, baby, keep going for me, yeah? » Shouto knew that the way you would pronounce each individual word was a hint to what was bound to happen, and the precise manner you moaned « good boy » near his eardrum was just a mere indicator amongst a myriad of them that you would not give up on your iron hold any time soon. Your lips eventually met his once more in a heated exchange, the advantage of the height played in your favor to assert dominance and set the done of the secret ballet between your tongues. Meanwhile, your palm was dangerously stroking the oh so growing bulge in Shouto’s underwear— and when your tongue would twist in a clockwise direction, your hand would do the opposite and vice-versa.

Shouto could feel you through all his senses— and although his lids were shut closed, this couldn’t prevent him from picturing your frame towering over him, he would always remember everything about you, even the most trivial details anyway. The gluttony in him cursed at him and screamed to touch you, but he knew better than to fall under the spell of his temptations. If he couldn’t manifest his pleasure physically, he could still do it orally— and thus a silent melody resonated in your mouth at the contact of your tongue with his. Said melody ended in the crescendo of the volume of his uneven breaths after breaking your kiss due to the lack of oxygen.

His cheeks were crimson red, his mouth was set agape to let fresh air fill his lungs again, his eyes echoed nothing but an irresistible paradox of pleading and will to continue further, his head felt dizzy under your sweet toxins which had just penetrated his mind… He was so addicted to you.

You let a smirk grow on your face in response to the aftermath of your antics, knowing very well that this was just a way to foreshadow what was bound to happen : « You’ve been so good to me, pretty boy, so, so good. Guess who’s going to have his reward now, baby? »

He knew he was going to get his reward, but at what cost?

[kdtheghostwriter]

SNK # 127 - End of the Night

In terms of pure composition, this is one of the best double-spreads Isayama has ever produced. I love it so much that I’m starting this meta with a breakdown of the different elements. From a wide angle this honestly looks like a Renaissance painting. The linework is crisp and the shadows are gorgeous especially in relation to Pieck’s Titan, but I want everyone to take notice of the way Isayama has blocked this scene off.

Every faction is cordoned off. The Survey Corps, The Volunteers, and The Warriors are all sat together in an attempt to break bread. The tension, however, couldn’t be more tangible. Our attention has literally been directed to it. This is so genius not only as an artistic choice but also as a cheeky answer to those critics of the closing panel of Chapter 126. No, we’re not all friends here. No, no one wants to be here doing this. Yes, we have a long way to go with not lots of time to cover. If you were to purchase the physical copy of this volume you could literally cut the tension with a knife.

I have been accused before of being afraid of confrontation. A pushover if you will. Even though I see myself as a pacifist it is not because I shy away from confrontation. Simply put, it’s much easier to disengage and go about your day. As humans, our goal on any given day is to procure our sustenance and return to our shelter. Everything else is extracurricular. It must be pointed out, then, that there is a difference to be had between being assertive and being combative.

These two have been building to a proper rematch for a minute now and despite what Annie says in the following panels you don’t just say something like this unless you’re looking for a fight. I don’t care if it’s true or not (it’s not). She knows these people well enough. She knows what buttons to press.

And this guy. Maybe this will be the end of hope that Magath is in any way reasonable. He has a soft spot for the Warriors because of his proximity to them, but he is firmly in the “My Eldians are the Good Eldians” camp. PSA: this is still racist and Not Cool, folks!

Also notice the framing here. We see the older Magath stubbornly debating with Jean over his right to keep breathing; just below him we see Reiner and his cadets. It’s much easier for people to accept and interpret new information before they are 25. Reiner is in his early 20s while Falco and Gabi are just now pubescent. They know the truth now of how the Island came to be and the war that lead to Eldia’s exile. If we assume that Magath is in or around his 40s, chances are that even with Founder Ymir’s story in hand he would find a way to blame all Paradisians (and Jean personally) for their current shitstack situation.

This gets broken up by Yelena. Abandoned by her god Zeke she sees no need to cooperate even when it is revealed that she was a Marleyean all along. Yes, the same Marley she literally volunteered to destroy because even if you’re from there it’s Fuck Marley Season.

She stirs the pot well as the one character with no more skin in the game. She brings up the fairly salient point that all of the soldiers around her have spilled way more blood, much more violently than she has. Yelena takes the cake for flamboyance but if you really stop to think about it…

Reiner’s plan to bust open the wall on that fateful day lead to the culling of one-third of Paradis’ population. Annie’s rampage through Stohess ruined countless lives beyond repair. Armin simply transforming in Liberio essentially nuked the town. Because this violence was not interpersonal like the assassination of Zackley, it doesn’t feel as extreme. This is how the Jaegerists came to exist in the first place.

And you had to figure this was coming at some point. After so much time passed Jean had certainly given up on ever learning Marco’s true fate. He’s never had a root cause to associate with his friend’s half-eaten corpse because…well, he never needed one. Humans got eaten by Titans. Most Scouts didn’t survive their first mission. And even this was after more excruciating detail offered by Reiner with no further prodding. I’ve seen some wonder why he kept talking but there’s an easy enough explanation.

The 2011 film Shame follows a young New York professional named Brandon who is a sex addict. Much ado with the title, he purposefully seduces women in relationships in hopes of getting caught and assaulted by their jealous partners. He has several reasons for doing this but it’s mostly an attempt to feel anything besides...well, you know.

Reiner is not an addict of any sort but he is very much dead inside, having suffered a series of mental breakdowns of increasing magnitude. He already hates himself for being an Eldian. He hates himself for living a lie. He hates himself for leaving his friends behind and getting Marcel killed. He sees his chance, not for forgiveness, but for human engagement. The fact that Jean is bashing his face in is a bonus for him.

This whole entire update was such a great exploration of Hange’s character but I like this scene especially because of how it mirrors Erwin during his final stand. I don’t consider it an explicit death flag or whatever. To me it’s just a natural progression of human emotion when you’re finished with running for the time being and get a chance to gather yourself. When the adrenaline wears off you really begin to question every choice that brought you to this point.

The knowledge of an outside world beyond their own should have been a triumph. The joy of discovery. The anticipation of adventure. None of which is possible because their entire island is Ex Communicado like John Wick with the Whole Entire World waiting for the first moment to end their whole career. It’s crushing and Hange sold that weight. Yet they still acknowledge that their comrades would not have wanted this outcome even if the cost was their security. It sucks! But genocide sucks more, so they have to get up and try.

Dude, tell me about it.

  Stray Thoughts

- We get a window into the multiverse that contains the Jean that followed through on his promise to have an easy life in the Central District. I like the choice to slow down the narrative a bit to have a check-in of sorts. It’s important to let your characters feel and absorb what’s happened to them. You can’t do that if you never stop moving.

- It’s cool to have Annie back but I don’t really know what to think of her yet. Does anyone else she’s going to be a wrench in whatever plan they come up with? Is that just me?

- Speaking of: killing Eren is the only way to stop him in my opinion and I think he’s counting on it. My big question is how do they get that chance? He has an army of Colossal Titans in front of him and his own Titan is gargantuan to an unimaginable degree. Nevermind the struggle of finding him and getting close. With the Coordinate under his control, he can command all of the Eldians on this team to halt their advance entirely should he choose. Mikasa is literally the one person on Earth who can stop this. Welp.

“I took a personal interest in her,” Pieck says. I mean, she’s not alone tbh.

- My initial reaction to seeing the final panel was [eeeeeks in @falcon94ssy]. Jokes aside, I have wondered for months where Kiyomi was. She is always conspicuous in her absence whenever it occurs. By the look of things, Floch (who looks gigantic here) is looking down past Kiyomi. I would be less worried for her well-being and more focused on whomever it is she’s conversing with.

[comicteaparty]

April 20th-April 26th, 2020 CTP Archive

The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from April 20th, 2020 to April 26th, 2020.  The chat focused on Only In Your Dreams! by Tuyetnhi Pham.

Featured Comment:

Chat:

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB START!

Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on Only In Your Dreams! by Tuyetnhi Pham~! (http://oiydcomic.com/)

You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace until April 26th, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Discussions are freeform, but we do offer discussion prompts in the pins for those who’d like to have them. Additionally, remember that while constructive criticism is allowed, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic! Whether you finish the comic or can only read a few pages, everyone is welcome to join and chat with us!

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 1

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic?

2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)?

3. Who is your favorite character?

4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most?

5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it!

6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores?

7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content?

8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

5. I like how distinctive the character designs are! The mcs are both very unique and recognizable

8. It doesn't take itself too seriously, but it also explores some real neat concepts

the story is full of personality

carcarchu

the comic's not loading for me shakes fist at wifi, gonna try again tomorrow but i just wanted to say the look of the site is really cute!

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Got the chance to read it So here are some of my thoughts: 1. I like the romantic atmosphere that the comic starts off with warm colours and it gives a vacation ad sensation? 2. My favourite moment is in the pink strange dream world, the colours contrast to the reality of Cara. 4. Fave moment: When that mystery guy shows up and he had corny lines like a romantic parody. It seem so fantastical. 5. I like the colour palette choice of brown tones, shades of pinks. 6. I think the theme is about expectations (it's not clear atm), how Cara is distancing from real relationships and prefer to indulge. 7: I like how the creator shows Cara looking scared of confronting things. It sets an interesting tone of uncertainty. Is she hiding something?(edited)

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

I'm super curious about the situation of Cara not remembering her past dreams with Richie, and how that ties into the theme.

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

1. I like how I don’t know what to expect. I also like how the premise is relateable; the idea that you are scared of imperfection making you have high standards in life hit close. 2) Every single time we’re treated to....Tuyetnhi’s lovely use of expression. Also the end part of episode 2, because that’s when I realized it’s going to get dark. 3) A tie between Ana and Richie. Ana because she makes me laugh with her blunt assertions (which...aren’t wrong) and Richie because he’s so flamboyant and extra. I love how much personality they all have. 4) Hands down Richie and Cara. They have a really hilarious dynamic going on. 6) The idea that people seek perfection through their dreams instead of facing reality. Also I really liked how it tackles society’s fixation on everyone to find someone....maybe Cara doesn’t need that and needs to focus on herself first? 7) That I won’t know what to expect. I came into this thinking it was going to be a classic romcom, and then I get hit with implicit horror and trippyness. I have a feeling Tuyetnhi is hinting at some darker aspects of the story we have yet to see. 8) Good lord the expressions. They really do the story justice and make me turn the page every time. Also the colours are beautiful.(edited)

(Whoops sorry keiiii)

7) two moments actually!

The fact that their wide eyed sweaty expressions matched made me laugh really hard

And also Cara’s quick acceptance of the situation was so unexpected and hilarious I took a double take. Also props to the colour dissonance; that looks like meme material right there!

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

yeah. I want to make it clear that Cara is like "This is really not my day." lol

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Well....you portrayed that sentiment perfectly

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Omg yes the wide eyed expressions were also making me laugh! Well that was an expression I didn't expect coming into the story(edited)

I was wondering if that was suppose to be serious or humorous?

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

both LOL

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

I see the horror you got going there Tuyetnhi Reminds me of...I dunno Jojo?

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

well............ yes and no lol

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

But I can’t wait to see what’s going to happen

Although...if we’re going by the silhouette....is she scared of herself?

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

C:

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

I like that sense of not knowing what's happening? :)(edited)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

that will be coming up in Ch. 3 soon

so please wait till then thank u lol

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

So far it's tough to choose a fave character right now since I feel the story has just started its first segment. I would like to wait until more content is shown before I can make a firm choice? (I'm analytical, I like to go over OCs flaws and strengths once I know more about them)(edited)

I'm curious to learn about her ex crush, since we only get a glimpse of how Cara precieve him. But what is Dean really like? *Drum rolls(edited)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

you got.... good questions

it will be rewarded.... later on LOL

mariah (rainy day dreams)

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic? I really liked the colors and island vibe. And this was even before Animal Crossing came out and I started hardcore living that island life I just love a good, soft pink to purple gradient generally speaking so the opening of the story was like falling into a comfy brain pillow for me. 2-4 I'm just gonna answer these ones kind of all together because they thoughts on then are all kind of threaded together into one big thought. After having read through the archive I really liked the scene with Ana and Cara. When I first read it I was like "dang, she's giving Cara such a hard time," but after having read the scenes where Cara just refused to admit to Richie she doesn't know what's going on I really retroactively appreciated Ana's willingness to call Cara on her bullshit XD I think it's a really good foil trait to have for a protagonist who seems dead set on avoiding confrontation even though it seems like doing so is most likely just gonna come back to bite her later. I imagine we aren't going to see Ana for a while though unless Cara is able to use her Phone A Friend card in the dream realm XD I am also looking forward to seeing more of the Cara doppelganger and how she and Cara interact with each other going forward. That feels like an exciting and drama filled mystery

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

1. What did you like about the beginning of the comic? I also love the atmosphere. The color choices are just so beautiful. 2. What has been your favorite moment in the comic (so far)? Ana pointing out Cara's BS hahahaha. 3. Who is your favorite character? Definitely Ana. She's so down-to-earth from what I can tell, someone I'd want to be friends with. 4. Which characters do like seeing interact the most? Probably Ana and Cara. I like to see good friendships depicted, especially in a romance. 5. What is something you like about the art? If you have a favorite illustration, please share it! In general, everything is so soft and pretty. I also really appreciate the fact that all the characters have larger noses. If I had a favorite panel, it would be at the beginning, the sunset beach waves. 6. What is a theme you like that the comic explores? So far, I'm not sure about themes, but I like the talk about the pressure parents give to their children to get married. 7. What do you like about the comic’s story or overall related content? There's a lot of mystery, so I'm looking forward to learning about Cara's dreams, Richie, and the key. 8. Overall, what do you think the comic’s strengths are? The visuals are really nice. I can't stop gushing about the color choices and the pretty atmosphere.(edited)

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

The way Cronaj sums up their thoughts on OiYD, I'm agreeing with the statement on Ana and Cara! Esp friendship part

Deo101 [Millennium]

I'll answer the questions hopefully later this week, but this song reminded me of the comic!!! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q4z5ecLCvSQ(edited)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

@Deo101 [Millennium] damn that’s a good song

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Oooo

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

He's definitely hot and extra

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

lmao

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

My joke idea is that Cara is secretly in a reality show starring Richie and her and the bonds they play out is meant for a live broadcast. But she's clearly not agreeing to this(edited)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

oh god. i don't think that's good for Cara's mental state lmao

Feather J. Fern

Also I have to say, I do love how the first cover is literally Cara being the meme of "Oh no he's hot"

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

fjdkalfdjdklfj

Feather J. Fern

Also I finally started it, while a bit late, I have to relate to Cara being an accountant.

Also I think my favourite panel is "Welp that worked"

Also I have to appreciate picking a pink that doesn't grate on the eyes.

https://gyazo.com/71fe22ea6ac2ebf6b3d85531c66bf8ed Another really good panel

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

I enjoyed making that one LOL

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

that face is one of my favourites not gonna lie

Feather J. Fern

I really like the surrealness of the story, can't wait to see what happens next

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

same! I feel like something is about to happen

I'm also wondering how Richie would react to the real world

like....the ex. And her parents.

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

soon™️

Feather J. Fern

More like everyone reacting to Richie XD

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Yeah pretty much

Like can Richie handle the world?

More like

Can the world handle RICHIE

RebelVampire

I like that the beginning really contrasts the dream and Cara's reality pretty quickly. I kind of feel it catches that feeling of coming out of a dream to face reality which kind of sucks, and also plays into the themes of dream vs. reality and expectation vs. reality. It's very easy to idealize things, whether as a route of escapism or just because it sounds appealing. But the reality of things generally is always different, and I like that we're seeing this full force in the comic through Cara's perspective. And the contrasts between the two really enhance those topics. My favorite moment in the comic so far is probably when Cara meets what I assume is Dean. Cause I really loved that both parties were kind of at fault, and I also liked how quickly that convo devolved into a grumpfest, because that felt very realistic. My favorite character right now is definitely Richie, because he is ridiculous and sympathetic at the same time. I adore his exaggerated personality, while at the same time feel sorry for him since for him the memories are clearly there and like...I would not want to be in the shoes of someone where the person they loved no longer remembered them. As for character interacting the most, Cara and Richie because that entire premise of one person remembering and the other not makes for a really tense and awkward situation. It's hard to tell where it's going to go. What I like about the art is the palettes of color chosen, since there's some beautiful scenery as well as fantastic contrasts when needed to make certain moments pop (like dream vs. reality).

As for the story content, what I actually like the most is that Cara is a flawed protagonist. I've read a lot of stories where the protagonist is always 100% right in the relationship and is just eternally the victim because society pressure. But Cara has a lot more going on, since she's clearly been at fault in some interactions, and while we can sympathize with people pressuring her into relationships, she also maybe takes it too far by being avoidant of basically every relationship. However, since she has these traits, I'm more invested into her personal dilemmas since she'll actually make mistakes when dealing with stuff. Which I think this is the overall strength of the comic. Cara is just a damn good protagonist who is easily likeable but isn't perfect and whose imperfections are not just brushed off so easily.

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

;_; .... thank you.

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I love the story so far! When I first started, I figured it would be some sort of awkward story where Richie comes into the real world and he has to figure out how to, like, act natural, and hilarity ensues. But holy cow, Cara losing her memories, and the slide into somewhat of a horror angle - it's not something I expected (though admittedly I could have read the synopsis lol), but it's definitely something I like!(edited)

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 2

9. Do you think the people around Cara were right to try and pressure her into a relationship? Overall, what do you think the comic has to say about relationships and the themes regarding relationship pressure?

10. Is what Cara experiencing dream or reality, and where is the line between them in this case? Additionally, why do you think her dreams have the potential to become reality as opposed to other people? Also, what is the overall message underlying these themes?

11. Is Richie really just a dream Cara dreamt up, or is there something more to him? If he somehow makes it to Cara’s world, do you think he’ll be able to adjust to that reality? Also, can he win Cara over?

12. What do you think the Cara imposter is about, and what does this have to do with the entire situation? Do you think Cara will eventually remember her dreams? Lastly, what do you think Cara has in store for her as the story continues?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

9. I personally don’t think it was great of the people in Cara’s life to pressure her like that. Sure, they mean well, but it’s most likely bringing Cara’s self esteem down by a lot. I have a feeling that her dreams/reality colliding together is partially motivated by that; the pressure of pleasing society has made her....subconsciously take drastic measures?

10. I’m actually not sure! Maybe there’s a supernatural explanation to it, or it could all just be a dream. Dreams have a way of showing a person’s innermost desires or fears, so maybe Cara’s desires and fears are coming alive in response to external stress factors. So perhaps she opened a portal of sorts between the realms in some way (there’s a key!!!!).

11. Oh I’m thinking they might end up together. But the realist inside me thinks...perhaps what Cara needs isn’t romantic love, but more independent love and being able to love herself. What DOES worry me, however, is the fact that Richie seems...a bit desperate for Cara to like him. Is there a condition to his love after all? If so, that means that it’s possible he’s forced in some way to love her or make her love him. And that’s not really conducive to romance, is it?

12. Ah...the thing that makes me mystified the most. Cara seems to have a negative view of herself, since she told her to get out in the end of chapter two. However, Cara #2 seems to be pretty helpful; knocking on the door to tell her to get out of the house (which Richie has her in), so in a way letting her out. While our Cara seems to dislike her a lot, I think the key to the story would be our Cara needing to accept this double Cara to be really free. Maybe she will, maybe she won’t! But from what I can see from the story and like I’ve said earlier...maybe Cara needs to be able to find love within herself. Love for that Cara double, and enough love to become independent and not bend to society’s overwhelming pressure for outside romance. I hope she finds that as the story comes along, and know that it’s okay to not be ready for love.

As for Richie...hmm. He’s dealing with an amnesiac heroine, and adjusting to the real world. I’m sure it’s going to lead to some hilarious hijinks, but hopefully he can manage! He seems up to the task

RebelVampire

I think whether people were right to pressure Cara is a tricky gray area. On the one hand, no, they were wrong. Nobody should be forced into a relationship. But on the other hand, if you know a person is actively self-sabotaging, isn't it more correct to speak up? So to me this is maybe a situation of good intentions with bad execution. However, I do think overall the comic does say pressuring people into relationships sucks and plz don't do that cause that's how you make ppl run further away. I think it's both, because a dream is reality in a sense. I think many of us have had dreams that caused real emotional affects, whether negative or positive. So the line between them is merely the fact effects are limited. Cara have may have just found a way to cross that line and make a dream a tangible thing that has more consequences. As for why her dreams, I don't know. Maybe she's just super good at dreaming. I do think as the overall message though is that dreams are good but not when we get lost in them, because then we idealize and reject "reality" in ways that aren't healthy. I do think Richie is primarily something Cara dreamt up, but kind of not maybe. Like sure maybe Cara is idea creator, but something else was involved in making the physical reality of that idea. As for Richie adjusting to Cara's world, I'm sure it will be laughably hilarious. I do think he can sort of win Cara over, at least in the sense of being friends. Cause how can you hate Richie? I'm taking a shot in the dark and saying Cara imposter is the embodiment of Cara's missing memories but since they're just memories, all they can do is imitate. As for Cara remembering, I feel like it will be yes but I kind of want it to be no. I like the idea of them having to reform a relationship entire from scratch.

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Oo good impressions! I wish I have more to say but it would affect the story LOL. Enjoyed reading everyone's theories tho!

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Ok my turn, let's see what my head theories are: 9: I felt the same annoyance as Cara but it's a mixed feeling, Even though, people shouldn't pressure a lady on her love life, she also has a problem with being in relationships. Or I remember one quote from the story was how she 'ditched her dates by rushing to the bathroom.' although I don't know her circumstance, I do know she has issues to settle too. Relationship pressure is real, especially as a young person grows older. 10. From the comic visuals, it feels much like it's her escapism dream. The only clue I got, is that her holding a literal 'key' connecting both worlds, is evidence that both world could collide. So far, we haven't seen other people's dreams, or whether this is an unusual occurrence in the world? It seems to be a message about idealistic relationships. Since Cara seem to turn away real ones, it manifested? 11. I'm curious about Richie's character too. He seems like a powerful imagination, enough to sway the lead, so he's more than a simple figment. I wonder if his submissive, flirtatious (?) personality was build in him. He doesn't seem to have a 'life' outside his dream house, or so far. 12. I'm not sure whether the 'Other Cara' might be trying to help her or is that.. actually a shadow side? I don't want to say too much, but it's interesting to see where the story goes.(edited)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

Oh! You make a good point about Richie; I never thought about that! Do you think maybe he's simply a part of Cara and eventually gains his own sentience/personality?

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

Hehe I like analyzing dreams :3 In dream theory, I feel he could be? I was more skeptical whether he should be treated as a real character or something else.(edited)

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

man this does make me want to look up dream psychology

i have a feeling...Tuyetnhi is using some theories from that

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

Hmmmm dream psychology you say?

I guess you can say there's some elements of that, but it's not a major chunk of it if that makes sense lol

Comic Tea Party

DISCUSSION PROMPTS – PART 3

13. What are you most looking forward to seeing in regards to the comic?

14. Any final words of encouragement for the comic?

Don’t feel inspired by the prompts? Feel free to discuss anything else that interested you!

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

13. Maintaining the will power to finish OIYD! so I can see it as its end lmao. As a passion project but also something that I want to invest in when I have the time, I hope ya'll looking forward in reading Ch. 3 very soon lol.

shadowhood (SunnyxRain)

13. I really want to see how both Cara and Richie will develop as characters. Whether Cara will figure out for herself what being both independent means....and whether she does want a relationship for herself and not for other people. Likewise with Richie, I want to see if he'll be able to be his own person...and whether he's real or not. I have a lot of questions that I want to be answered, and I can't wait to keep reading.

14. Tuyetnhi, good luck on the webcomic. It's hard to start one and even harder to pull off a good one, and I know yours is a good one. I really look forward to reading more from you. You're amazing (edited)

Tuyetnhi (Only In Your Dreams!)

thank you

Joichi [Hybrid Dolls]

13. I'm interested in learning more about Cara's conflicts, why she is hesitant about having a real relationship vs her dream one? I love the unexpected dark twist that the story seems to be going. 14. I want to say, no pressure and take your time to complete the chapter. Just know you have my support and willing to read when it is ready. Good luck

RebelVampire

I'm looking forward to more Richie being Richie. Because he is an adorable person. And also because I'm waiting for some 'reality' culture shock. My final words are that this comic has a strong themes game going on and an intriguing premise, so it'll be fun to see where the comic is in a few more chapters since I'm pretty sure we're in for a wild ride.

Comic Tea Party

BOOK CLUB END!

Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about Only In Your Dreams! this week! Please also give a special thank you to Tuyetnhi Pham for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked Only In Your Dreams!, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!

Read and Comment: http://oiydcomic.com/

Tuyetnhi’s Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/oiydcomic

Tuyetnhi’s Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/tuyetnhip

Tuyetnhi’s Twitter: https://twitter.com/tuyetnhip

[gooddame]

Someone Worthwhile

This is a drabble prompt for the lovely darling in need of Klaroline meeting at Comic-Con my @childoftimeandmagic! I hope you get some time today to read this monster. All Fluff and banter.

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Special stars are Bonnie, Tyler, Enzo, Marcel, Damon, Finn, Stefan, and a mention of Elijah.

<3

She hears her hotel door open but is surprised by the voice, “Caroline,” his voice shocks her from her excitement of the building crowds in the streets she sees from her hotel window.

He must have bribed the hotel to let him in, she thought maybe she really needed to stop using Tracy Samantha Lord as her fake name at the front desk as he says, “I need a favor.”

Caroline turns around as Bonnie trails in behind him having found her Gamora wig, she smiles at her friend and then at her ex, “Nope, I’m here strictly on a fan basis this year. I promised.”

Bonnie nods at the bathroom as Tyler begins to speak, “You didn’t even know what I was gonna ask,” he retorts while cracking his knuckles like he’s about to finish off the biggest deal he’s ever made.

The Blonde laughs almost to herself recognizing all his usual tricks, “But I know that look on your face, it says ‘I need working Caroline’” she reveals to him as she walks to meet him eye to eye.

“It would only be an hour,” Tyler stresses, “You’ll be back before anyone knows you’re here as,” the brunette tall man trails off trying to figure out her rainbow top and blue pants.

“I’m The Doctor,” Caroline laughs putting him out of his misery; Tyler was all business and no fun.

“Doctor who,” he asked, his brow meeting in the center of his forehead not bothering to hide his confusion.

“Exactly,” she states with a grin and her hands on her hips full wonder woman pose.

Bonnie laughs coming out of the bathroom in full garb, “I knew cutting your hair this short would be perfect,” she tells Caroline making the blonde actress preen as she touches her own hair.

Tyler watches the two confused as to how he grew up with them before the tension in his brows gets the best of him, “Look, I need a celebrity commentator just for the Epic Kings group session.”

Caroline’s body freezes, fangirl mode launched as she presses her hands on Tyler’s arms, “You want me to talk to Klaus Mikaelson never having met him before and talk about how he and Silas are going to go head to head this season,” she exclaims excitedly.

“And the whole crew,” Tyler begins to smile near excitement dawning on his face at the way Caroline speaks animatedly like she might just do it.

Bonnie is the one to cut in with a groaning, “When does this start,” knowing that Caroline would not do it if she asked.

It’s with this information in mind Bonnie doesn’t look completely put out knowing that her best friend would be crazy to not miss a job opportunity like this. She walks over to the pair of friends and hugs Caroline who is about to meet her own secret celebrity crush in the process.

“So it’s a yes,” Tyler asks Bonnie with the saddest pair of puppy eyes he can muster making it even more dramatic the longer she takes to nod her head.

“You’ll have to call Kat,” Caroline warns him about her agent, “But I’m sure she’ll be on board,” she finishes off knowing Kat wouldn’t mind a pair of really nice shoes as a bonus.

“Let’s get you to conference room 394,” Tyler thanks them gripping both the girls hands for getting him out of a bind, “Bonnie can come too,” he says with false woefulness.

“Maybe I don’t wanna come,” Bonnie giggles as they grab for their bags and phones making sure to keep the hotel key on them.

“He dais cast and crew Bonnie, Enzo will be there,” Caroline murmurs with a look that says ‘get on board’ making Bonnie freeze too.

“Holy crap,” she cries making Tyler look up from his phone behind them while confirming with Kat about Caroline’s changing schedule. “I’m gonna meet St. John.”

“Not if we don’t hurry,” Tyler tells them as they reach the elevator doors.

-<3-

Caroline looks around the allotted conference room pacing the makeshift backstage when someone with a badge and Madonna phone stops in front of her, “Let’s get you a mic, and get you talking,” he says walking to a table with an array of gray plastic cases filled with equipment.

The actress, no stranger to a microphone of a camera reaches for the one that has ‘commentator’ taped to side, the tense individual sighs in relief that she’s found her mic, “Say something,” he directs.

“I like Paris in summer,” she states clearly after flicking on the mic seems to solve the man’s problem because he nods.

“Yup, that’s great, were gonna start letting the crowd in now so just hold off on coming out for a bit,” He explains using his pen to scratch another thing off of his clipboard and disappears leaving Caroline alone.

“Paris in summer is breathtaking,” an accented voice agrees from behind her making Caroline turn around to see who is speaking to her as she switches off the mic.

“Klaus,” she blurts out in a gush of air surprised by his surreal presence.

“Mikaelson,” he very nearly blushes as he extends a hand to her own, “And you’re Caroline,” he utters against her knuckles mouth brushing them as he speaks.

“You know me,” Caroline takes back her hand gaining her confidence back smoothly if not swiftly as he continues to speak.

“I know of you,” he admits with a pointed tilt of his head his eyes looking at her appreciatively, “Your work on The Good Lady was, astonishing,” his eyes meet hers then to show his complete sincerity.

“I, well, thank you, it was great to do something different,” the blonde responds when an enthusiastic smile that would have had all of Mystic Falls at her feet.

“Klaus, no flirting with the pretty girl until after, okay,” a man with hero hair chimes in while reaching for Klaus’ shoulder, apparently they knew each other.

“Sorry Love,” he utters as he follows hero hair along the other side of the back stage.

“How are you doing,” Bonnie makes Caroline jump in surprise as he disappears from view.

“Bonnie, he knows me,” she finds herself saying as she recounts what he said about her performance in the Good Lady, it was her first time doing something other than girl next door flicks and views had not taken it well.

“I saw that,” the brunette smiles knowing Caroline has gone starry eyed but needs to be refocused, “He know you too,: she mocks before using another more authoritative tone, “Snap out of it babe.”

Caroline takes a deep centering breath, “You’re so right,” she nods her head shaking off the feeling of his lips on her hand by formulating a plan, “Keep it cool. Mouth exercises let’s do this.”

The blonde asserts herself checking her stance, as Bonnie reaches for one of the free water bottles realizing someone is reaching for the same one as her, “I see an angel,” he declares.

Bonnie rolls her eyes grumbling, “More of witch,” she replies opening the water bottle and nearly chocking as she sees his face, “St. John.”

“I like to go by Enzo,” he rejoins with contentment as he takes the bottle from her hand and sips from it before she can, “I suppose your name is something other than little witch.”

“Bonnie,” she replies swiping the bottle from his hands as she juts her hip.

“Bonnie,” he smirks about to say something more.

“I really got to keep you guys on leashes,” the man with hero hair appears again reaching for the back of Enzo’s shirt, “Let’s go before Elijah finds you guys out of order again.”

“Stefan, mate, relax,” Enzo says pushing back his slick hair, “It’s a fan driven event, means there’s supposed to be fun had,” he says that last bit to Bonnie with a wink.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go,” Stefan tells him making him leave Bonnie with nothing more than a little wave.

The anxious man from before returns to Caroline’s side, just as Tyler enters giving her two thumbs up, “Here are your cue cards and the names of each character, don’t forget your remote for the sizzle video and secret preview after,” the rest is a blur as Caroline reaches the stairs to go onto the stage.

“Holy crap,” she mutters with her fingers on the mic off switch.

“You’ve got this,” Bonnie reiterates shaking off her own encounter, “You’re an academy award nominee and you’re just doing Tyler a favor, this is nothing,” she reminds her watering down the situation.

“You’re absolutely right,” Caroline agrees hugging her best friend, “I’ll see you after.”

-<3-

The panel is slow to begin from the backstage while the leading men are being called by a pre-recorded voice in a flamboyant nature to the stage by their names one by one. For Caroline and for the crowd it’s the best time to cheer for each actor and show their personal appreciation. Klaus catches her eye and his smile is megawatt wide making Caroline instinctively grin back at him.

Her wave at him seems to make his smile more alluring, his eyes more firm as if they’re looking into her soul and finding everything so she breaks contact looking out past the stage.

She can see how the room only minutes ago empty seems smaller now with hundreds of fans settled into their seats cheerfully could still seem to be chaos. Caroline hugs her mic to her chest carefully switching it on as she takes her seat when Finn the arch enemy of the Epic Kings cast is called as he is the final one to arrive.

A hint of butterflies flutter in her stomach in excitement Caroline introduces herself to the crowd and they immediately recognize her as she declares with delight, “Surprise!”

Before long the sizzle reel starts and the crowd is eager to hear from the men of the show who excitedly and in colorful language, express the mutual respect they have for one another and their fan base. Caroline finds herself enraptured in the conversation often forgetting her cue cards and asking the real questions fans weren’t generally allowed to. Damon, the creator of the show does his best to keep his lips sealed about the plot of the season but more often than not Caroline get something out of him.

This leads them to fan base questions towards the end of the panel where a select group of people who watch the show can ask questions burning on fans tongues and web pages. Between Klaus and Marcel you can tell there is a true kinship and Caroline is glad that their chemistry is not just one made up by television. She does her best to keep herself composed around Damon’s gross commentary nodding to Tyler when he sees her face twisting in distaste for the famously cringe-worthy creator of the show reeling it back to the basis of the panel session.

After one on-set hi-jinks question from a fan Enzo tells story that has everyone enthralled even before he begins, “So Klaus was rounding the set during rehearsal in dead of night mind you,” he pauses looking directly at the crowd.

His hands out like pointed weapons, “With these two pistols and Marcel comes around the other end of storage container both, with no idea that they’re about to run into one another.”

The cast is in stitches at the memory by that point as he laughs fully, “Long story short, Klaus shot Marcel in the back.”

Klaus feigns weakness with his hand to his mouth, “Our friendship almost died,” he fake sobs into the mic.

Marcel laughs patting him on the back, “I almost died, you didn’t know it was me,” he calls out.

“It was a fake pistol,” Klaus replies so deftly he looks saintly.

As for his friend Marcel pretends to be wounded at his friend’s words, “I didn’t know that at the time,” he points out.

Klaus rebuttals, “You think that low of me,” he asks with a huge smile.

Finn sighs, “Well, I do think it’s possible but I’m the bad guy you were gonna shoot,” he reveals making the crowd gasp.

Caroline laughs seeing Tyler’s signal to switch up the topics, “Alright, alright next topic, on this season of Epic Kings Klaus, your character is supposed to be challenged to the extreme, what does that mean?”

Klaus and Damon exchange a glance before he looks to her and explains, “Well he’s a bloody killer,” he laughs scratching his neck, “He’s gone out on his own, essentially left the family.”

Marcel ducks his head so Caroline looks to him as he interjects, “Yeah, we’re so lost without you.”

Klaus chuckles as he looks from Marcel to the crowd, “They are, the little dears, no, ah, my character is very vulnerable at the beginning of the season, he doesn’t know who he can trust,” he clarifies.

“Maybe Nick can take up with the Scooby Doo gang and really flesh out those characters, build an army,” Caroline speaks before she realizes she’s talking into her mic making the crowd wild.

“You watch the show,” Damon asks before Klaus can and Caroline nods.

“Of course, I do that’s why I was asked to commentate,” she half lies smoothly, “See the mic says so.”

“What are your thoughts on the show,” Klaus asks her genuinely curious as the crows settles.

“I ask the questions,” she replies with a flirty smile.

“I do like a lady in charge,” he rejoinders with a wicked look that gives her chills.

“Oh, do you,” she just about gets up to speak to him the tension radiates between them as she tells him, “Because you don’t strike me as,” trailing off when she sees Tyler’s mean look.

“Okay, back to the show,” the actress smiles her best pageant smile once more addressing the audience, “Sorry fans, we have time for one last question and then we’re gonna reveal a very special scene from the new season of Epic Kings!”

She laughs as the guys on stage start humming the theme song dramatically playing pretend instruments as Caroline picks out another name from the pile of pre-approved questions, “Last question by fan, April, go ahead.”

“Hi, I love you guys,” the brunette wide-eyed fan squeals, “Okay, my question is, are there any new or old love interests this season that might make the Kings not get back together?”

Damon takes over that question leaving the cast to nod whenever they agree with something he says, “That’s a great question April,” he answers with a compliment and a leering look that makes even Caroline cringe before he gets to the answer.

“For now, we are thinking a new love interest, especially for Nick who is on his own now and heavily eyeing our commentator,” he mutters into his mic, “He will meet someone in the first I’d say 3 or 4 episodes of the season and it’s gonna really change the dynamic I think.”

Klaus locks eyes with Caroline as he speaks into his mic, “Meeting a new person that’s worthwhile can have a profound effect on how people act. And I think we’re going to see that in Nick and the way he goes about either reconciling with his brothers or not.”

“Get a room,” Bonnie shouts from backstage making Caroline blush as if she wasn’t already turning red from the heat in the room.

“Oh piss off St. John,” she hears Klaus groan pushing at his friend his seemed to be immobilized by laughter at Bonnie’s comment.

“And that’s it for the panel guys,” Caroline tells the crowd as she stands from her chair, How about a big applause for these guys? Thanks for coming out,” lots of whistles erupt in the room as the guys get up from their chairs making Marcel and Finn flex only egging on the crowd further.

Klaus walks directly to Caroline moving with the agility of a jaguar off of the wrong side of the stage, “Listen Caroline I,” he stops short as Caroline’s face brushes his.

Caroline for her own reasoning hadn’t realized how close Klaus was until she turns to look at him, “Oh, sorry, you were saying?”

Her eyes asks him to continue as the backstage erupts as well into working on the next panel set up, “I’d like to have dinner,” he clarifies.

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not knowing how to reply, “There’s a restaurant nearby that delivers called Beso, I recommend it.”

“I meant with you,” Klaus articulates running a skittish hand threw his curls, “I meant what I said out there, about when you meet someone worthwhile.”

The blonde smiles as him, “How do you know I’m worthwhile or interested,” she inquires.

“Because if nothing else I could make a visit to set possible and you’ll understand Nick’s family strain before anyone else does,” he mutters in a tone reminiscent of one his character uses when he has the upper hand.

“Bribery,” she surmises.

“I want your attention not matter what the cost,” he says, his answering grin making her heart drop.

“Caroline just tell the man yes, or I’ll tell him about your Epic Kings themed birthday last year,” Bonnie sings as she hugs her best friend from behind.

“Bonnie! We have plans tonight or I,” she explains looking from her oldest friend to Klaus trying not to give away that Kat had already talked Damon into letting her visit the set after her movie was finished with re-shoots.

“So keep them,” Klaus states reaching for Caroline’s hand once more, “I’ll give you my direct number and you can call me anytime you’d like. But do call.”

“Okay,” Caroline relents as Bonnie lets up whispering, “Do it,” in her ear, “I will do that,” she says unlocking her phone to let him type in his number.

He types it while keeping her within eye level, “I can’t wait to hear from you Caroline,” he murmurs in caress.

“Well, fuck me,” she sighs when Klaus disappears without looking back to see her obviously stunned face because her friend just laughs.

“Oh, he will,” she tells her as she fixes Caroline’s coat.

“Bonnie!” Caroline whines half-hardheartedly at her friend’s teasing.

[callmedotseurat]

Blast from the past, when Bernadette was a bit more talkative in her interviews (Boston Globe, Dec. 1981)

*****************

It's 10:30 a.m. and Bernadette Peters, whose tiny frame is wrapped in a pink silk robe, spills out of the bedroom of her suite, wet curls framing her renaissance face. She has stepped from the shower to the interview.The shower was still running. But Steve Martin, wearing make-up, left this message: He's going back to bed. He had to get up for a too-early television appearance. He's tired.

Meanwhile, a maid armed with a vacuum cleaner is humming through her chores. An agent is on the phone, something about the sensational Bernadette Peters pictures in Playboy. And here she is, this little Botticelli blonde, mischief glinting in her eyes, gliding in the room. "Ta-ra! I'm here! Ta-ra!" She continues a pirouette that is simultaneously elegant and slapstick, then flops into a corner of the couch. The photographer, anxious to freeze the action, instantly follows her with his lens.

The questions you would most like to ask Bernadette Peters are questions she has already asked herself. All you have to do is be a good listener, guiding the conversation gently, preventing it from wandering, considering what she says with your heart as well as your ear.

Bernadette Peters is from a Sicilian family of bakers from Queens. Manhattan is home. Her family name is Lazzara. Only now, at the Carlyle, you have to be announced. You have to be on her list of visitors to be accepted into her suite.

She has never married. What is her passion?

It's her work, her career, developing her talents. She is an actress, a dancer, a singer, a flamboyant female whose delicate aura is disarming, misleading. She is not a helpless vanilla creature. She is a small but powerful bundle of dynamite, a woman not in full bloom but exploding with ambition.

It was always this way.

She started singing and dancing as a child in a TV program, "The Children's House." As a teenager, she appeared in the Bowery Lane Theater. Audiences loved her. So did one of her discoverers, Carol Burnett, who had her as a guest frequently on "The Carol Burnett Show."

Norman Lear also "discovered" her when she appeared in a Los Angeles stage tribute to the late George Gershwin. Lear offered her a guest role in "Maude," which led to the CBS-TV series, "All's Fair."

When Bernadette Peters was 19, she appeared in an off-Broadway musical spoof, "Dames At Sea." She got rave reviews. Then she appeared in a revival of "On The Town." Raves again. And a Tony nomination. More raves for her appearance in the doomed David Merrick's play, "Mack & Mabel," and a second Tony nomination.

One important thing you've got to understand about Bernadette Peters.

She has had her ups and downs.

She's unstoppable.

"Yuck, safe is boring. I want to grow. You want to know what creativity is? It's tapping places you didn't know, places you didn't know existed inside you. I am very distinctive looking. You want to know something? It's very limiting looking the way I look. When I started in show business, I wanted to get a job, any job, so I auditioned for the chorus. Nobody hired me to be a chorus girl. I stuck out too much. I didn't blend. Know what they wanted? They wanted a California sunshine orange-juice kid. I didn't look like, hey, your well-scrubbed typical American teenager.

"Know what I did? I straightened my hair, one of those blunt cuts. I wore collegiate clothes. But my hair was too hard to deal with, all natural curls. And I didn't like the clothes. So I said: The hell with it.' I said: I am going to be myself.' I said: This is what I am and this is it.' See, I didn't care by then. I wasn't getting work the other way so I decided to be myself. That takes guts. But there's only one of you in the world, so you might as well be the best you can be. Right?

"Being an individual is the most important thing in the world. I should have done it all the time. I thought a lot about myself before being myself. Maybe that was a good thing. It made being individual less scary. Individuality is a great release, don't you think? It frees you. You don't have to scrunch into somebody else's idea of you, a mold. Know what? I'm trying more and more to be me.

"It's a matter of stripping away your fears, one-by-one. We are all layered in fears and they've got to be pulled away. It's like counting backwards from 10 - 10, 9, 8 . . . As the numbers get lower, the peeling away gets easier. You get more and more courage to be yourself. The disappearance of each layer is the very thing that gives you courage.

"I was very insecure. Insecurity is poison. It's like wearing chains. It prevents you from going anywhere. It gets so it becomes hard to meet people, just to say, Oh, hello there!' You know what I mean?

"When I was a kid growing up in Queens, I studied Hollywood. I'd hear on the television that so-and-so was getting a divorce. Hollywood meant divorce. Hollywood meant a lot of diamonds and a lot of gowns. Hollywood meant nothing real. But all the time I wanted to be a star, a Hollywood star, but the old myths stuck in my mind. Those myths became my insecurities.

"Guess what happened? I said to myself: If you have a good car, a good home, nice things - is it going to change you?' And then I said to myself: No, no, no, you earned it. So I decided I deserved whatever my success brought. And layer No. 10 of my insecurities was gone! Peeled away!"

"I'm very strong. Can you tell that I am strong? Well, for a long time, I denied my own strength. I had this real fear of aggression. Know what I did? I played the typical feminine role. Helpless. Flighty. I figured a man is strong and a woman satellites around her man. I tried to tell myself that women are not strong. But underneath I was strong, very strong, and I allowed my strength to surface. How did I do it? I started making one decision, then another, and still another. Then I was making a lot of decisions and I was happy with those decisions. And I began enjoying the results of my decisions. That-- 9 of insecurity gone! Poof!

"I still look fluffy, don't I? Oh I know that. But I can change. You haven't forgotten that I'm an actress, have you? No? Well, there are such things as make-up. And wigs. I can change. The thing is that the more you assert yourself, the more you express yourself, the more people hear you. It's all attitude. It's not necessarily the way you look! It's all in being yourself. No, it's more than that! It’s the way I am.

"Want to know what my big dream in life is? I don't have a five- year plan, a 10-year plan. I don't have specific objectives. My dream is to grow, to be the best that I can be. I want to be proud of my work. Maybe marriage. Maybe kids. I said maybe. Then my other dream is to be self-assured. Not to have fears that I can't conquer. I am still haunted by fears, little ones. Oh, I'm shy. I can't make myself say, Hello' to a stranger, even if the stranger is someone I think I'd like to know. You want to know what I do? I practice saying hello to strangers.

"I'm terribly shy. Acting is a great outlet. On stage, I don't have to worry at doing and saying. In real life you have to worry, yes. You ask yourself: Have I spoken when I should not have spoken?

"My mother always told me I was beautiful. I didn't believe her. I didn't like what I saw in the mirror. I didn't think I was pretty enough or thin enough or popular enough. That was another layer of insecurity, something to be peeled away.

"Now I think I am distinctive looking, different looking. I don't think I am gorgeous. At least not in terms of what society thinks is gorgeous. When I love somebody, I love the person that the person is. I love Walter Matthau. To me, he's handsome because of the way he is, not the way he actually looks."-

"I had another hangup, still another insecurity that had to go. I thought that being a success meant that you had to stab someone in the back. The words, career-oriented and ambitious - I used to be afraid of those words. I used to call those words the back-stabbing words. Well, now I know. Having a career is not being bad. You did not have to step on or over anybody. Look, I got here in spite of myself. I got here despite all my drawbacks, all my insecurities. Why? Because I don't think of myself in terms of insecurity anymore.

"If I hear that someone doesn't like me, I say: Oh, they'll change their mind in the future. Later they'll like me. In two or three years, I'll do something that will make that person like me. I've been hired by people who said, before, that they didn't care for my work.

"I've established myself. I know part of this business is rejection. But I know a lot about myself. I can't live in a suburb. I know that just raising a family isn't enough. I've tried to knit. I don't like to knit. I've tried to sew. I made my graduation dress and, gee, I almost had to wear it. It was bad! I hate to crochet. But I love to act. And I act when I sing. When I'm on stage, when I do something exceptional, something I've never done before, I feel I've been someplace I've never been. And it's all happening inside me."

[chanzicoup]

Summary: The shyest kid in town meets with the new girl in his family’s bakery. Who knew this would spark a chain reaction?

A/N: This is a sneak peak to a novella I am currently writing. I got the idea for this by watching the movie called “The Longest Ride” and I can not stress this enough, IT IS SUCH A GOOD MOVIE GUYS PLEASE JUST SHUSH AND WATCH IT

Genre: Fluff/Romance

Count: 2.12k

Warning: None

~Blake

He remembers the day she walked into his life, which was coincidentally the day she walked into his family’s bakery for the first time. He was kneading a ball of bread to be portioned and baked later when the yeast has risen. She was gorgeous, but that wasn’t what caught Johnny’s eyes, it was the fact that she held the door open for an elderly woman who was trailing right behind her. Such kindness was not something he had seen in a while outside of his mother and father. He was an only child who was homeschooled from childhood and all throughout high school.

This was the winter before his freshman year at college, his last winter and a senior in high school, and he was spending as much of it as he could at home, he was nervous to start on the first day with all of the other students his age, who were so lucky not to have his fear. It wasn’t much a fear of connection, but a preference of isolation and obsession of personal space, the only people he talks to is his parents and customers who walked in only to walk out minutes later with their order in their hands. His mother, babying her only child since he was such a thing, was negotiated with and was convinced to let him attend a year late, how he got her to agree with his idiotic idea, he didn’t know; but his claim of the bakery needing workers might have sealed the deal. He has a feeling his father would assert his power and force him to go on time any way, better to hope than forfeit.

He was the only one in today, since his parents went out to buy supplies. It had been a slow day, anyone who came in ordered from the window, so their food was already prepared for them to take. Johnny dusted his hands off and went to the register, where the old woman stood with the younger woman behind her. Perhaps they are related?

“Good morning ma'am. How can I help you today?” Johnny asked politely, as he always does. Despite his manners, he spoke softly and the woman hardly heard him but began ordering anyway.

“Two loaves of Italian bread, sonny. And three blueberry muffins, please.” She was a regular at the bakery, she came in at least once a week and ordered the same things and has been since before Johnny was born. She’s called him sonny since day one even when she can read his name tag and see what his name was. She also always had exact change, of course she would if she’s been getting the same things for as long as she has. If her mind is wearing away with age, she certainly doesn’t show it. What she did with all those loaves and muffins, no one knew, but it was no one else’s business. She was a nice woman, but mysterious. She never told anyone at the bakery her name, which was a weird though in his opinion, but he ignored the fact and went along with his day. Johnny had the breads and muffins ready, anticipating her arrival, and even put it in  a tote bag like he did when no one else was looking. Those bags were 99 cents each and his parents would fuss if he saw their son give one away for free.

“Good boy. I’ll be back next week!” She sang and skipped to the door. That woman loves her bread and muffins.

Up next is the pretty girl Johnny suddenly lost the words to talk too. Just now he notices how perfect she is, even with her imperfections. He makes sure not to stare too long and manages to choke out the serviceman’s phrase, “How can I help you today?” He thinks he did it by not staring directly at her. if he did he would hold his gaze into her eyes too strongly and it would make the situation more awkward.

“This may be embarrassing, but I honestly don’t know what I want. I just moved here and I haven’t had any of this before. What would you recommend?” She questioned. Johnny saw that her navy blue petticoat had dusts of snow on her shoulders. He had forgotten it was going to snow badly this week, poor girl is probably freezing. But how could she not know what she wants? Johnny would have his order picked out before he steps foot in an establishment, but if the truth was being told, he’d ask his mother to order for him.

“Welcome to Athol, be careful, if you say that with a lisp you’ll be scolded.” She must’ve liked his joke, because it made her chuckle and roll her eyes. It wasn’t his best dad joke, but something people don’t know about him is that he has quite a lot of them. “I was about to put bread in the oven.” He suggests without action, suddenly feeling dumb.

What if she wasn’t rolling her eyes playfully, but in annoyance? Johnny feels as if he should’ve given her some fresh baked cookies that he made this morning and she would’ve been on her way. Yet the thought of her leaving as fast as she came made Johnny slump his shoulders.

"That sounds nice, thank you very much! Can I wait for it to bake in here? I hate to admit it, but I’m looking for something to do…” she pauses too read his name tag. “John.”

Her lips turned up to a smile as his name rolls off her tongue. No one says his real name but his father. Everyone and his mother say “Johnny” his mom says it sounds cute. His likes it better than “John” it is more relaxed and less demanding sounding. His father’s name is the same, which was why he never called his son by anything else other than “my boy”. It would be a form of self-degradation.

“Would you like a drink?” Johnny questions quietly. The girl, whom he does not know the name of, nods quite cutely. “What is your name?” He does this to all the customers so he can make sure that what they ordered belongs to them and write their names on the cup. Since there is only one he had no need to do that, but he just wanted an excuse to get her name. If he was feeling flamboyant, he’d write his number on the cup as well. Too bad Johnny has never come close to feeling flamboyant in his life.

“I’m Heidi. I just moved here from Shades Run.” She has another quirk Johnny sees, she tucks her hair behind her ear when it’s not in her face. It’s too short to be in the way. Her hair resides just below her ears, flaring up in a slight curl in all of it’s dirty blonde glory. “And I’m going to need another recommendation for the drink.” She acts as if she has reason to be embarrassed, Johnny can hear her talk for hours if she wanted to.

“I was just about to start a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?” He holds two of the bakery’s branded cups, which are small compared to the size of his dough boy hands. Spending your whole life in a bakery takes a toll on your entire body, but most effectively, your hands. It means you’re doing hard work, and hard work means a good spirit.

“Okay, I’ll have one. Thank you!” She says thank you more often than most of the usual customers, maybe she’s still adjusting to her new life? Now that he thought about it, customers expressed their gratitude every so often. Not everyone has enough manners to do so. But whatever the reason is for her abundance of gratefulness, it nonetheless has Johnny turning towards the coffee machine and blushing while biting his lips to hide the giddy grin he’s bursting.

While the cups fill, Johnny hurries to the back and puts risen bread in the industrial oven, setting a timer for twenty minutes as his father taught him. He comes back and sees Heidi reading a book and the coffee pot filled and secured in its’ warmer. He pours them into mugs and adds the cream, a little extra cream for her since she seems like  creamer girl. He puts the finishing touches on, those being the whipped cream and a cinnamon stick. Some people don’t like all the spice, so just in case she was one of those he put her stick to the side so she could add it if she wanted to.

He stands up straight, as if he’s a waiter at a five star restaurant and stacks the cups on a silver tray that’s only used when there’s company. Look at Johnny breaking the rules. He’s no bad boy, this is obvious when he gives her the coffee with cinnamon on the side and he rushes back to the counter, again his heart raced at the thought at sitting with her to sip his own coffee. Instead, he does it while leaning on the counter and glancing at her every few seconds. His confidence washed away like waves on the beach. So close to the castle, but pulled back with the tides at the very last possible moment. Just before the typhoon kills the civilians in their sand houses.

“You can sit here if you’d like. I don’t bite.” She chides after adding her cinnamon stick. Johnny scurries over and sits in front of her, remembering to grab his drink from off the counter. Yes, he had nearly forgotten his drink on his coffee break.

“So, John,” Heidi starts. “What do you do other than work here?”

“There really isn’t much to tell.” Johnny says, nervously tapping his finger and bouncing his knee. He tried to have his knee match the pace of the tics and toks of the clock, but that was too slow for him and only made his anxiety worse with the sudden time crunch/

“Tell me anyway, even if there is genuinely not much to tell.” Heidi puts the book away and rests her head on her hand propped up on her elbow. Where should Johnny start? He told her about being homeschooled, and she asked what it was like.

“It was nice. Staying home and doing whatever I wanted. I had a sweet tutor who taught me at my own speed.”

He then talked about the bakery, as if she hadn’t already known he’d worked there. She asked what it was like.

“Growing up here was a lot. It’s just my parents here, no other workers. I try to help when I can.”

In her head, Heidi was squealing in delight, a handsome baker who adores his family. And he’s such a gentleman and he listens! Finally, she has a friend. She could hear him talk for hours. Hopefully she wasn’t being too pushy. What if he’s cursing her out internally and only entertaining her to be polite? It wouldn’t have been the first time someone acted nice to her only to push her away later on. The sudden urge to peck her lips drove Johnny mad. How could he want to kiss a stranger? In all seriousness, why is he talking so tentatively to said stranger?

“What’s your story?” He sits back and crosses his arms, interested in his newfound friend. Totally not wanting to talk and much rather yearning to listen. He had nothing else to discuss. No one had socialized with him so there weren’t any stories of him being an idiot with the kids down the load and hanging out at Jos’ house on Tuesdays because that was taco night and Mrs. Violet makes the best tacos.

“My story is more of a novella, a lot packed into a short amount of time. My father and I moved here so he could find a better job. My mom left when I was a baby so it was just us. I’m in the middle of my senior year, but since I moved I’m going to be attending Athol High in the middle of the semester.” He never stopped her to tell her to elaborate, or to ask what something was like. He just listened to her stories with a gleam in his eye.

“I’m sorry, I’m talking too much.” She looks down at her lap and pulls her smile into a frown.

“Don’t worry, I love hearing you talk.”

Did he really just say that?

Is she smiling again?

Are they both blushing?

The answer to all of the above is, respectively: Yup, surprisingly, and oh yeah they are.

[diamondsaregold]

A Memorable Offense! - A Dave Reyes Fanfic

The Royal Romance x Most Wanted

#ChoicesCreates Round 17

Prompt: “Some souls just understand each other upon meeting.”

Rating: T

Pairings:  Dave/MC, implied Dave/Sam

Summary: Hired to investigate Prince Liam’s photo scandal, Detective Dave Reyes attends a dinner party at the Cordonian royal palace. What he finds is a flamboyant cast of Cordonian nobles and an enigmatic foreign suitor who he sees a little too much of himself in. Hilarity, impromptu make-out sessions, and mortal embarrassment ensue.

Author’s Note: One like/reblog = one prayer for Dave’s dignity. Enjoy!

In his past 7 years working both a renowned private investigator and charming socialite, Dave had never been so utterly overwhelmed and flustered as he was that night.

The assignment had been simple enough: Work alongside Bastien and the other investigators of the royal palace, to track down whoever in their midst was illicitly selling private information and photos of Prince Liam to the press. His first task was to attend this dinner party and to get a sense of the noble circles surrounding the royal family.

It would be no trouble at all. After a month of recovering Alyssa’s stolen private contracts, finding Cassandra’s lost in-progress scripts, and taking down Otis’s certifiably insane and shutter-crazy fan boy (who, incidentally, turned out to be his reality TV show star ex-boyfriend. Which was nothing new, either.), Dave was pretty sure that he could handle tracking down one phony in a whole flock of manicured, gold-plated royals. 

Bastien seemed to agree. “You’ll need little preparation, based on what we have all heard about you,” the mysterious, dark-haired man had asserted confidently, before giving an approving nod to his attire. “Armani is quite the popular brand here. You’ll be a hit with the nobles. Just make sure that you blend in.” 

And so, Dave had walked into the ballroom with suit freshly dry-cleaned, eyes alert, and charming smile ready to deploy.

It began well, he had thought. After making his rounds and introducing himself to a handful of nobles milling about the dinner tables, he started off for the dance floor, to make the acquaintance of the various people swaying to the music in the center. 

As he began to move to the beat and caught the eye of a very pretty noble woman, he began to relax and let loose. There was nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun while on the job, after all!

Then began the chaos—or in Dave’s world, mildly embarrassing himself in front of other people. 

His social disgrace occurred in a series of four distinct offenses.

The first offense occurred as he was seconds away from asking a lovely lady for a dance, when a young man with a black button-up and ruffled hair quite literally flew into him.

He was much more solid than he appeared, Dave noted as he groaned and rubbed his shoulder from the impact. 

The young man quickly apologized, before grinning and immediately challenging Dave to “a dance battle of epic proportions.”

Before Dave could politely decline—both because he was sure that he could not hold his own in such a dance battle, and, because just then he noticed the sauce smeared on the man’s cheek and shirt collar—the young man flopped onto the floor and began doing the worm.

The people around them gave them a wide berth, and a few rolled their eyes in Dave’s direction.

Dave hastily excused himself from the wiggling, sauce-smeared man and darted off the dance floor. 

The second offense began when a red-haired lady, with a wolfish smile and what appeared to be a roosting bird in her hair, asked Dave to dance. Still reeling from the young man’s impromptu worm (though, in the man’s defense, it was quite the impressive worm), Dave politely declined.

Apparently, rejection did not sit well with this one. At first, she repeated her question, but this time with growing menace in her predator-like gaze. When Dave stared her back down and declined again, albeit more forcefully, she growled.

Alright, now he was afraid. Dave took a step back as the redhead leaned in close. “How dare you! I am a descendant of the esteemed Nevrakis Family. I am doing you a favor by extending a request to waltz to such a lowly commoner.”

Her childish pout and gag-worthy floral perfume, as well as his close proximity to her animalistic stare (and features, as Dave observed her sharp, pointed teeth) clouded his social tact and willpower. Offhandedly, he mentioned that Nevrakis sounded like a really bitchy, whiny family of tyrants from a popular fantasy TV show that was filmed in his hometown.

(It was only much later that night, long after she had stormed off, fuming, that he discovered that the show was based upon real events and people, who were descendants of the present-day Cordonian nobles. If so, Dave mused, the producers had done an excellent job of capturing the Nevrakises accurately.)

The third offense happened to be the most humiliating of the four. After recovering from his sudden-social-death by worm and his run-in with an insane wolf-lady, he decided to start over again, beginning with the gorgeous blonde woman in a teal gown, standing off to the side. 

Dave turned to a burly man in the denim shirt and asked him if he would be so kind to give him her name. The man gave him the once-over, before stating with an amused smirk that the blonde’s name was “Olivia.”

When Dave sauntered up to the blonde with his best, winning smile and asked “Olivia” if she would like to dance, she shot him a withering glare that froze him in his tracks, before stalking off without so much a backward glance.

Only after, between fits of the stocky man’s roaring laughter, did Dave discover that the blonde “Olivia” was in fact a “Madeleine.”  

When Dave asked icily then whom “Olivia” would be, the man laughed even harder.

As Dave summoned up whatever minute shred of dignity he had left and exited the ballroom, amid the man’s ungracefully loud guffaws, he tried to reassure himself that it was the embarrassing slip-up and rejection that had stunned him. 

Not the blonde hair, the steely blue eyes, and the hardened, fiery gaze that reminded him of the blonde firecracker of a woman in his own life. And whom he had not heard from in months.

Detective Dave Reyes stepped out onto the balcony and shut his eyes, taking a deep breath of the night air. Behind him, nobles twittered and twirled about. The sound of clinking forks and laughter filled the air, along with the distinct scent of apple-flavored gourmet dishes.

The lively scene stood in stark contrast to his own increasingly gloomy mood. Thinking of her only brought up the memory of their fleeting touches and the undefined, fractured state of their current relationship. How he had wanted more, but she…

Dave clenched the railing. Relationship woes be damned! Tonight, he was a man on a job, and he couldn’t afford to be dragged down by personal feelings. 

Then he remembered that he also said to her once, long ago, and nearly cursed himself aloud, until he noticed the young lady standing on the other end of the balcony.

Her back was turned to him. The plumes of her white dress gently billowed in the night breeze. In the dark, the gauzy fabric had a sheer glow, giving her a ghostly effect.

As he approached, he noticed that her gaze was directed downwards, into the black abyss below their balcony. 

Dave was only a few feet away from her rippling frame when he realized that he had been staring uncomfortably at this woman for the past few minutes, all while slowly inching closer to her. 

He flushed. Damn the reminiscing! He had dropped his guard. Quickly, he tried to form a coherent apology, an explanation for being a total and utter creep.

“It’s quite alright.”

She was so soft that he almost did not hear her.

“Pardon?” (He did hear her. He was Detective Dave Reyes, for crying out loud!) But he wanted to hear her voice again—it was low, monotonous, but had a distinct, sweet lilt to it.

“You were staring at me,” she replied. Her features were soft, round. Wisps of hair framed her heart-shaped face, and her dark eyes were bright with amusement.

“Oh. Right! Sorry about that.”

“Ah, no worries.”

She went quiet. Awkwardly, Dave coughed. Then he fiddled with his thumbs. Shifted from one foot to the other.

“So what’s an American detective like you doing in Cordonia?”

“You…you know me?!” Oops. He coughed as her smile slowly grew. “I mean. Yes! You do know me. Oh, I’m here on...important business.” Smooth, Reyes, smooth.

“You’re doing a job for the Cordonian government?” Shit! Did he give it away? Maybe she had hypnotized him earlier…

“Don’t worry. You didn’t give anything away. But I’ve followed your career, and I know you’re mostly based in Los Angeles.

“You follow my career?”

Now it was her turn to be embarrassed. The lady blushed and looked away. Smirking, Dave placed an arm on the railing and leaned in a little closer. 

Her lips were a vibrant shade of fuchsia. It made him recall the bold, over-the-top stars he’d run into at awards shows and parties. Stars who’d pout when they didn’t get the drink they wanted, or pucker up for a kiss when they saw him. At his first Hollywood gig, he remembered thinking they all looked like cartoon characters, with extravagant dresses and obnoxiously loud lip colors.

Somehow, though, the color worked for her. It gave her gauzy figure a pop of brilliance, and brought out the flecks of gold in her eyes.

“Yes. I’m quite the fan of you and Marshal Samantha Massey. You make quite the duo,” she finally replied.

Well, wasn’t that straight to the point. Caught for a moment, he flinched, and then laughed, unconvincingly.  “That we were!” He leaned back even more, trying to put some distance, some air, in between him and the truth of her statement.

She arched an eyebrow, and Dave noticed how finely sculpted it was.  “Were?”

“Yeah…well…” He couldn’t speak. It was as if there was a weight pressing down into his lungs. Suddenly, it felt like he was tumbling down, down, and it all seeped out.

“We’re not partners anymore. I haven’t seen her since our last case in February, in fact.” 

There was a note of finality to his a voice, a bitterness that he didn’t recognize. 

“So, you’ve decided to run away to Cordonia to get over her?”

He stared at her in shock. The corners of her lips curved upwards and Dave realized that she was teasing him. Slowly, he began to smile as well.

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Was that a flirtatious remark?”

“No. But I know me.”

“Ah. Now I know why she left. You’re insufferable!”

“How dare you! I’m absolutely worth the suffering!”

It was a night that made for pleasant conversation, discussing their respective life stories and laughing at the similarities they saw in their own. Their confessions and hilarious anecdotes flowed out as they laughed and urged the other to go on.

“And then Maxwell said ‘Go get him, Princess,’ and I swear, he hip-checked me and sent me flying across the ice!” she giggled between laughs. It was more like a snort than a laugh, which only made him laugh even more.

“Did you glide like a princess?”

“Princess? Have you even met me? No, I face-planted in front of Prince Liam.”

“Oh, what a shame. Did Maxwell get a photo at least?”

“Excuse me?!”

Never before had he been so at ease with a stranger before, nor had he been able to find someone to hold their own as a worthy partner in intellectual conversation. The night wore on, and Dave found himself opening up amid her infectious laughter and inquisitive gaze, as the two wandered near pieces of their past they had never dared breach before.

“I’m not sure why I stayed in LA for long. Maybe my mother, maybe my job. This is the first time I’ve been away from home in so long.”

“Ah.” She looked away, and Dave made out the pain that flashed across her face. “I didn’t have much of a home to leave in the first place.”

She glanced back at him. “This the first time I’ve felt at home, in fact.”

As Dave peered into her dark eyes and observed the swirling sensation in his stomach, he had the strangest feeling that everything that night had led him to this moment.

Or maybe it was the tingling in his fingers as he brushed her hair out of her face and ran his thumb along the lines of her cheek. Her skin was warm, and flushed a soft pink wherever his touch followed.

After he pulled his hand away, with some reluctance, she took a step closer to him. She looked up at him to meet his gaze and he felt his breath catch. He drank in the flickers of desire in her gaze, the way she bit down softly on her lip as his own gaze darted over her face, stopping at her mouth. 

It wasn’t fuchsia, but a soft shade of purple, Dave noted, as he closed the distance between them.

It was the least talking they had done all night—save for when they slammed into the railing with resounding groans, before she desperately grabbed his shirt and tugged him closer. 

Or when he gripped his waist and slowly, tortuously moved south, as she whimpered into his mouth. 

Or, when she ran her tongue along his bottom lip and he made a guttural sound that he had never heard before. 

When they finally drew apart, the first thing he noticed was her lips. Flushed, slightly swollen (he thought to himself proudly), and very pink. Immediately, he swiped at his own lips. She laughed as he frantically rubbed the purple away.

Then the moment faded, and they were silent. Dave wondered why it was so difficult for him to meet her gaze now, but he forced his eyes up. Her face was guarded, careful, and a little regretful. 

He swallowed, and made the first move. “Sorry—”

“Don’t be.”

He got the feeling that both of them weren’t used to losing their composure. Now that the line had been crossed, they had no idea what to do. In the distance, he could hear the partygoers saying their farewells to each other, and the noise slowly filtering away. 

“I have to go,” she murmured.

“Right. Me too.”

Dave felt compelled to say something, to do something, to return from this spell he had fallen under, or to stop all walls they had torn down that night from slowly being erected again. 

“I’m really am sor—”

“Reyes.” He stopped at her harsh tone, before her face softened into something unrecognizable. Something he couldn’t quite pinpoint, but made his insides flutter. 

“It’s alright.” Then she smiled, wistfully. The understanding in her gaze sent an ache through his chest.

“We all need an escape from time to time, don’t we?”

He was speechless as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, and slipped quietly back into the ballroom. 

He wanted to call out to her, to ask her to stay for just a little longer, until he faltered at the realization he had never gotten her name. Her white dress swished against the night air, and vanished into the blaring lights inside.

Dave groaned and leaned back against the railing—reeling from what, he was not sure. Was it the kiss? The mistaken color of her lipstick? Or the way his mind ran through her burning touch, over and over again? 

Whatever the fourth offense was, he thought, as he smiled ruefully, it was certainly the most memorable. 

He shook himself out of his thoughts, before getting to his feet and squaring his shoulders. 

Carefully, he buttoned his blazer up, straightened out his collar, and patted down his gelled hair. Before he stepped back into inside, he deftly checked his reflection in his phone. 

He grinned, at the memory of the scoffs and rolled eyes he’d receive whenever he’d insist on fixing his appearance before heading into a new case. Her puckered, pursed mouth. Always without lipstick.

He took in the cool night air for one more breath. Then Detective Reyes strode into the ballroom without looking back.

There would be time to remember, later. Right now, he had orders to complete.

“Dave? We have a problem.”

“Ah? What is it, Bastien?”

“…I believe you forgot to detail three specific events in your mission report.”

“What?! How—”

“Ah, excuse me.  I meant to say ‘four.’”

[flawedimagination]

Rae of Sunshine- Chapter 4 Halo

Pairing: Eric/OC

Fandom: Divergent

Rating: M

Summary: Rae thought Amity was where she belonged. Even with her dark past fuming inside of her, she had always done her best to suppress it. With Choosing Day approaching she was confident in her decision to stay in Amity. That is until a certain Dauntless Leader came roaring into Amity's gates. Once Eric has Rae in his sights he is willing to do anything to have her, even if that means breaking her and destroying the world she lives in.

tags: @ariwolff14, @beltz2016, @lauraaan182, @silverintentions, @guiltyissues, @itschibi, @alida90, @tigpooh67 , @jojuarez26 , @kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995  

A/N: I’d like to say thank you to all who have liked and reblogged Rae of Sunshine, it’s awesome seeing all the support! I am steadily writing the next installment, which appears to be a bit of a challenge, but no worries. I’ll have it done as soon as I can. I just started back at college and it seems this quarter’s gonna be a bitch so please bear with me! I will not give up on this story. I plan on seeing it through. I hope I tagged everyone who has asked to be tagged. If you want to be tagged please don’t hesitate to ask! Okay enjoy! 

word count: 4,282

Tibby had asked Rae if she wanted to go make flower halos with her and a couple of the other girls. The Festival was in two days and the women had already started on preparing their attire for the event. Rae was thankful for Tibby’s invite, she needed some girl time and she had always enjoyed halo making. It was custom for the women to wear flower halos as a sign unity and love.

After their shift, most of the women headed to the greenhouse to start the halo proceedings. The greenhouse was absolutely spectacular around festival time. The florist paid extra attention to their supply of flowers knowing this was their busiest time of the year. Not a lot of the other factions called for flowers that often. Usually only Erudite made frequent orders to Amity’s greenhouse, but only for foliage plants, they claim that flowers are a distraction to the human brain.

As Rae and Tibby entered the greenhouse they were astonished by the array of flowers that cluttered the walls and shelves. The greenhouse was compacted full of Amity women running around gather roses, lilies, and daisies to adorn their halos.

The girls were thankful some of their other friends had saved them seats at their table when they entered. Alyssa, Fay, Melony and Nilly were gossiping over some Amity boys, when Rae and Tibby arrived at their table. “It’s about time you two showed up we’ve been waiting for hours.” Fay giggled. “Sorry got caught up talking about my new Dauntless boyfriend.” Tibby teased. The squealing that came from the group of girls was so loud it was deafening. Once they had calmed down the girls started roaming around the room to obtain the perfect array of flowers to decorate their halos.

Amity has never been physically competitive, but when it came to halos, the women go all out. Many would embellish their headpieces with huge hydrangeas, orchids, sunflowers, and roses. There was no prize for the most mesmerizing halo but everyone pretty much gave their opinion on which halo they think is the best. The women flocked to the brightest colored flowers in hopes of getting the prominent flower that was in that year. This year the more exotic the flower, the more notice you would get.

Rae never gave much thought into her halo, while others stressed over theirs year round. She liked not planning and being spontaneous in picking her flowers. She had eyed the orchids when they had walked in and thought they would suit her well this year. As Rae made her way through the flower-crazed mob she was arms length from the chosen flower when a hand swooped in snatched the orchids from their vase. Rae looked up to see whom the culprit was only to be faced with Cara’s wicked smile.

“I just love orchids. Don’t you? Oops did I… Did I just take the last one? Well, I probably did you a favor, orchids just don’t seem like your type of flower. So you're welcome.” She boasted, throwing Rae a vile grin. Rae watched Cara walk away towards other flamboyant flowers. Rae grazed over all the other popular flowers that were quickly disappearing.

Once the crowd of women had demolished the assortment of flowers, Rae was left with only a few choices. She looked throughout the whole greenhouse before settling on tiny white flowers. She liked the simplicity of them, and the calmness they brought when looking at them deeply.

“Baby’s breath a personal favorite of mine. It means everlasting and undying love.” A soft voice said from behind her. Rae turned to see the sweet voice belonged to one of the oldest florist named Mabel.

“Ms. Mabel, how are you?” Rae said cheerfully. “I’m wonderful, dear. How are you?” she asked.

“I’m great just getting ready for the festival you know ‘halo time’” Rae joked.

“Oh yes! I know its one of our busiest time of the year. How your grandfather? Will he be at the festival?” Mabel asked. “Yes he’ll be there I’ll mention, you asked about him.” Rae said with a knowing smile.

“Oh don’t bug him about little old me. But tell him I do expect a dance or two. I want to see if the old man still has some moves left in him.” She surmised. “I will let him know his duties for that night.” Rae smiled trying to contain her laughter.

“It will be a night to remember. Oh! I’m very excited to hear you sing. Your mother used to sing all the time.” Rae’s smile softened at the mention of her mother. “I think baby’s breath is perfect for you, you’re already so radiant why try to overshadow that with some dull flowers.”

“Thank you. I think they’re absolutely lovely.” Rae added. Mabel nodded and moseyed towards a table full of overly excited adolescent girls.

When Rae made it back to her table, Tibby was already spilling about her twenty-four hour relationship with Zeke. The other girls were captivated with Tibby’s story on how Zeke had found out where she had lived and had taken her on a “walk.”

“He has two piercings.” Tibby cooed. “I only saw one.” Rae claimed. “I know he told me he’d show me the other at the festival.” Tibby articulated with a sly grin. The girls around the table squealed with giddiness. Rae groaned in disgusted at the proclamation.

“So what about you and Joshua? Will the festival be a “big night” for the two of you?” Alyssa asked.

Rae smiled at the question and continued to work on her halo. “Oh come on Rae don’t leave us without the details!” Nilly begged.

“It’s not Joshua you should be asking about.” The whole table jerked to Cara who was leaning on the table fiddling with her halo. “You should be asking about a certain Dauntless leader. I heard he got pretty hands on with a certain Amity girl. Rumors of course. Unless you have a confession to make.”

Rae was fuming and wanted to reach across the table a sling Cara across the room. “There’s nothing going on between me and Eric.” Rae defended. “Already on a first name basis. Rae I never took you for the type, but then again there’s probably a lot of things we don’t know about you.” Cara asserted. “I mean I don’t blame you for wanting something a little more adventurous. Joshua was pretty adventurous with me so I understand where you're coming from. Anyway, do you like my halo?” She then added, pointing to her flamboyant array of flowers.

Rae felt her eyes water at Cara’s words. She knew Joshua and Cara were a couple at one point in time but she didn’t think he would ever sleep with her. Tibby knew the comments had hurt Rae deeply and decided she wouldn’t let it stand.

“Oh yeah! I love your halo! Maybe if you add a banana you make your own ecosystem on your big fat head.” Tibby barked. Cara just grinned, “I love how plain you went with your's Rae. It matches you perfectly.” She then sauntered away from the table leaving Rae on the verge of tears and Tibby fuming.

“She’s lying. We all know she’s lying. You okay? She just said that to be a bitch. Joshua would never touch her Rae.” Tibby assured her.

“I think your halo is really pretty, Rae.” Nilly confessed, giving Rae a comforting smile. “Thank you, Nilly.” Rae said pushing back her tears.

After the girls completed their halos, Mabel had them put their halos in a special room to preserve the flowers until the festival. Rae needed to get to Joshua and ask him about Cara. Tibby walked with her towards the dome so they could talk about their plans for the day of the festival.

“So you’re still coming over to get ready right?” Tibby asked. “Yeah of course.” Rae said quietly still thinking about Cara and Joshua.

“Rae stop! She’s a bitch and just said that to upset you. You know Joshua, he would never do something like that, especially with Cara. He'd been crazy about you for years he would fuck that up for Cara.” Tibby proclaimed. “I know and your probably right but I need to hear him say that.” Rae said.

Once they made it to the Dome Tibby met up with Zeke who was waiting for her. Rae left her friend to her own demise to go find Joshua. She went to where they usually rehearsed to find him playing his guitar.

“Rae I’m glad you came I thought about sending a search party.” He said with a warm smile. Rae couldn’t help but feel light at his greeting it was like Cara’s words had melted away. It was now just Joshua and her playing their music. Rae felt whole with Joshua and Cara couldn’t change that.

After their short rehearsal, Joshua started messing with Rae’s hair running his fingers through her hair. The feeling was sensational but then Rae remembered Eric’s warning and jerked away. “What’s wrong?” he questioned at her sudden reaction. “Nothing its just I have to go.” She poorly lied.

“Is this about Eric? Did he tell you not to come near me?” He asked. “Not necessarily.” Rae said. “Look I just don’t want him to hurt you because of me. It’s only temporary, once he’s gone everything will go back to normal.” Rae added.

“I just don’t see why he thinks he has the right to control you. We shouldn’t have to hide.” Joshua said pulling Rae into him with her pushing against him. “Joshua, please. Not here, not now. Not while he’s roaming around. You’re not safe with me. Please just try to keep your distance from me. I can’t see you hurt.” Rae begged. “We still have a song to play Rae.” He objected. “I know that’s why we’ll sing the song then go our separate ways after. Stay away from me at the festival Joshua. Please.” Rae commanded.

“Alright.” Joshua answered shortly and made his way out the room leaving Rae cold and alone.

Walking out of the building Rae felt drained of all energy. She kept telling herself that Joshua understood what was at stake, not only his life but also her happiness. She could never forgive herself if something were to happen to him on her account.

As she neared the warehouse, she heard a sudden commotion and what sounded like gunshots followed by screaming. Rae ran as fast as she could to the crowd of people that formed a thick wall from the scene she so eagerly wanted to see. After pushing through the crowd, her eyes rested on a starved, frightened man. The Dauntless soldiers held him on the ground at gunpoint. The man was so dirty and tattered he looked to be older, but behind the grime and unkempt hair was a younger man, who was barely twenty-five.

Rae watched on at the brutality that was being put on display for all to see. The soldiers aimed millimeters from the poor man’s foot causing him to move in a frantically. They laughed at his movement yelling at him to “dance” for them. The battered man fell to the ground from exhaustion. Rae watched as two apples roll from his tattered rags. The man scattered to grab the two pieces of fruit that meant life or death to him, but was stopped by a big black boot that crushed his hand. The screech that came from the man’s throat made Rae cringe.

“Please! Please! I have a family! They need to eat or they’ll starve! Please!” he screamed.

“Now you know the five factions have set a side enough rations for you and the rest of the Factionless.” One soldier sneered.

“You mean scraps! You leave us so little! We barely have enough strength to fight over the rubbish you call food. There are people dying out there, women and children starving to death!” the man preached.

“Well it’s not my fault you guys decided to reproduce.” The soldier laughed. Rae could hardly contain herself. She wanted to stop this. It wasn’t right, all the man was trying to do was feed his family.

Before Rae could voice her opinion Eric, along with two other men, were marching towards the crowd.

“Ah Eric look what we have here.” The soldier called out to him before kicking the already battered man. “A thief! He’s already confessed to his crimes and we took it upon ourselves to demonstrate what happens to thieves.” He said proudly.

Eric’s face was blank to the emotions that were coming in every direction. He whispered to the man that stood beside him. The man then began walking over to the factionless prisoner with the other man following. Both of the men bent down and took the poor creature by the arms carrying him away from the buzzing crowd.

“Hey! Where are they taking him he hasn’t gotten his deserved punishment!” the soldier yelled and began to follow until Eric stepped in front of him blocking his way.

“I’m going to suggest that you not follow suit and return to your duties.” Eric said calmly while looking deep into the soldier’s eyes. The soldier complied with Eric’s demands by nodding his head slowly and began to step around him. Eric reached out to the man’s shoulder pulling him roughly into him. “If you ever pull a stunt like that in front of other civilians again, you’re going to regret the day you ever stepped foot into Dauntless. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir! It won’t happen again, sir!” the soldier answered. “Good now get back to work.” Eric commanded. As the terrified soldier walked off the crowd dispersed with him. Rae stared at Eric and was surprised he didn’t continue the cruelty with his fellow comrades like he usually did. Eric gave Rae a nod causing her to continue in her direction she was heading before stumbling on the unfortunate mishap.

It was nice to be back in the stables with Poppy. It had been a while since Rae had enjoyed the company of the thorough breeds that stood around her. The smell of hay and manure tickled her nose as she furthered into the stables in search of Poppy.

“Poppy? Are you in here?” Rae called out gazing upon the magnificent creatures that rested in each box stall.

“Over here Sweet pea.” Poppy hollered from one of the last stalls. Rae peered into the stall to find a very pregnant mare and Poppy feeling around her swollen womb. “Wow is that Daisy? She’s huge! When is she due?” Rae asked, stepping into the stall cooing at Daisy, while gently stroking her neck.

“It should be in the next two weeks. I’m amazed she hasn’t popped yet, honestly, she’s as big as a whale!” Poppy said making Daisy snort to his comment. “A pretty whale,” Poppy assured her, letting her relax.

After feeding Daisy they left her to eat and moved on to one of Rae’s favorite riding horse, Luna. Rae first learned how to ride Luna when she was little and has since then had a special bond with her. She had always loved her porcelain white coat contrasting with her gray muzzle and legs. Rae entered her stall cooing at her, slowly approaching her from the side. She began stroking Luna’s neck just as she did Daisy. Once Luna had recognized Rae, she started nudging Rae with her nose allowing Rae to caress the bridge of her nose.

“I missed you too, girl.” She whispered getting a gentle nickering sound from Luna in return. Rae smiled as she continued petting her beloved Luna. “It’s been a while since you two went riding. Want to take her out for a spin?” Poppy asked. Rae looked to Luna and smiled. “What do you say, girl? Want to go for a ride?” Rae asked getting an approving sound from Luna.

It was nice to go riding again for Rae. She hadn’t done it in so long she forgot the feeling of freedom she got when riding. The faster Luna went the more Rae felt like she was escaping from all her problems with Cara, Joshua, Dauntless and Eric. She could tell Luna was enjoying the fresh air and the freedom to roam around the compound. As the fresh air filled their lungs, they kept going, letting out all the worries and struggles they were facing. After a successful ride, Rae and Luna made their way back to the stables.

When they got back, Poppy was gone and left a note for Rae saying ‘There was an emergency out on the cow pasture. Seems that some old bull is having his own rodeo with some of the heifers. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ Rae decided she would brush and feed Luna while waiting for Poppy’s return.

After removing all of the riding gear, Rae brought Luna over to a water trough and began brushing her. In a soft soothing voice, Rae began to sing as she brushed Luna.

*Once there was a way, To get back homeward.

Once there was a way To get back home.

Sleep, pretty darling, Dot not cry And I will sing a lullaby.

Golden slumbers, Fill your eyes Smiles await you when you rise Sleep pretty darling Do not cry And I will sing a lullaby.*

Rae came to an abrupt stop when Luna started to become skittish and snort. Rae did the best to calm her, but Rae became aware that she wasn’t the only person in the stable. She turned to who she knew was already there.

“Eric.”

“Hello Sunshine.”

Rae rolled her eyes at his chosen nickname for her and turned back to Luna who had calmed down when seeing that Rae wasn’t scared of the new intruder. Eric watched with extreme supervision as Rae she handled Luna, leading her back to her stall.

“What are you doing here? You know horses are extremely good judges of character, right?” Rae sneered at him. “Oh Sunshine, you don’t know me well enough.” He rejected. “Oh I think I know you well enough.” Rae said.

Eric started walking closer to where Rae was but stopped when a copper-colored horse poked its head out of its stall curious of the new intruder. He obliged the horse and began caressing under its jaw. The horse seemed to be enjoying the attention and for a split second so did Eric, Rae noticed. Eric then directed his attention to Rae, “They are good judges of character.”

“What are you doing here Eric?” Rae questioned. “I saw you riding earlier. I didn’t know you could ride.” He said in an interested tone. Rae was surprised Eric had taken an interest in her hobbies. “I’ve been riding ever since I was little it’s like walking for me now.” She stated. “Interesting. I also didn’t know you could sing that good.” He mused as he kept getting closer to her. Rae felt her cheeks turn red from his comment, he had heard her sing the very last thing she wanted. “You’re good really good not shit like the other Amity girls who seem to think they can carry a tune.” Rae couldn’t help but let out a small laugh and realized what she had done.

Eric stepped closer, she knew where this was going. “You have a nice laugh.” He said seductively. Rae could feel the riding crop behind her and went to grab it. As Eric tried to close the space between them Rae stopped him by hitting him in the chest. Eric looked down at the riding whip and grinned. “Now how did you know that’s my favorite toy.” He smiled.

Eric leaned in close to Rae’s neck moving his face along her skin taking in her scent. Rae was frozen to the sensation he was causing her. She focused on keeping her breathing deep and slow trying to keep her heartbeat down. “I can feel you. Your heartbeat. You can’t hide from me sunshine.” He whispered. Rae grabbed his bicep not knowing to bring him closer or to push him away. She gripped his solid, hard as stone muscles and was amazed by the fitness of his body. He was straight up muscle, a wall of hard solid tissue. Rae looked up meeting Eric’s gaze, wondering what he was going to do next.

“Well, I’ll tell you what! If those idiots down at the cow pasture could learn how to properly barb-wire a fence then maybe we wouldn’t be having cow orgies every night!” Poppy yelled as he entered the stables. Rae slide away from Eric to make it seem like what just transpired did not happen. Poppy entered the stables looking at the two faces staring back at him. There was an awkward silence that stood for a couple of minutes until Eric was annoyed.

“You must be Poppy. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Eric one of the leaders at Dauntless.”

“Ah yes. You the one everyone’s buzzing about. Well nice to meet you, Eric.” Poppy greeted sticking his hand out. Eric accepted the friendly gesture and reached out to shake Poppy’s hand.

Eric had heard of Poppy from numerous amounts of people. Poppy wasn’t quite what Eric expected, when he was told Poppy was one of the oldest Amity members, he pictured an older, frailer looking man. But the handshake he received said other wise. Although Poppy could match Eric’s strength fully he could keep up, the handshake was strong and unwavering just how Eric liked it.

“Well, I hope my Rae has been helpful showing you around the stable.”

“Oh yes. She has she was just showing me the riding crop.” Eric said smiling at Rae. Rae was still gripping the crop tightly, embarrassed by the whole meet and greet. Poppy was about to continue the conversation when a raucous came from one of the stalls. “Damn it! Let me tell you that stud has caused me more problems than he’s worth.” Poppy confessed.

They all moved the stall where the stallion was held. He was a beautiful creature jet black with a small white diamond on his forehead. “He’s a beautiful animal.” Eric complimented. “Oh he beautiful and strong too. The type of horse a man could only dream of, but he so god damn stubborn and reckless.” Poppy huffed.

“Sounds like someone I know.” Rae chimed while getting a glare from Eric.

After Poppy had calmed down the black beaut he told Rae to head home because he would be working late. “If you don’t mind I’d like to escort Rae home if that’s alright with you?” Eric asked out of courtesy even though he really didn’t care for Poppy’s answer.

“Of course! I’ll feel quite relaxed knowing my Sweet pea is being escorted home by a Dauntless leader!” Poppy answered making Rae feel even more embarrassed. Eric smiled at the nickname, which Rae knew she would hear about later. Rae said goodnight to Poppy and gave him a hug and a peck on the cheek.

“Well, Goodnight Poppy.” Eric said shaking Poppy’s hand again.

“Goodnight and thanks again for taking Rae home.”

As Rae and Eric walked out, Poppy couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

“Nice guy. Hmm well, I like him.” Poppy said to himself.

The walk home was mostly silent until Rae’s house came into view. She wanted to ask Eric about the Factionless man and what would become of him.

“So what happen to that man you arrested this afternoon?”

“He was taken in for questioning and will receive the appropriate punishment,” Eric said not looking at her.

“It wasn’t right what your men did. He was only trying to feed his family.”

“Do you even know how many times that card been pulled? A lot and when you excuse them of stealing they continue to do it, making them think they can get away with more harmful crimes like murder or rape. You can’t give these people an inch or they’ll use and abuse it. That’s why Amities full of bullshit. You all are so naïve when it comes to people. You let anyone walk all over you.”

“That’s not true! People need help but can’t get any because of people like you! You and your men just want to cause pain because it entertains you! You're sick! All you cause is violence and chaos! You don’t help anyone out!” She yelled as she ran to the door. Rae opened the door halfway before it was shut by Eric’s massive hand.

“Hey! Do you actually think I want a rebellion on my hands because of what those idiots did today? No. I don’t have the patience for it. I want control. I have control. I keep the order that’s needed for everyone to survive. Because as hard as this is for your pretty little head to believe, not all people are nice. Amity needs Dauntless around so that when someone does walk all over you, we’re here to stop it. Face it Sunshine we control everything.”

“You don’t control me!” Rae said defiantly.

“That’s what you think. Why don’t you go to bed sunshine, you look a little frazzled.” Eric said grinning as he turned and walked away.

Rae turned to open the door once again before hearing Eric call out to her again.

“Oh and Sunshine! I’m really excited about the Festival. I have a feeling it’ll be a night to remember!” he yelled making Rae cringe.

[asksansweredpdf]

65 questions youre not used to

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you? not until now

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you? hm like a 3? i talk to spirits so sometimes i worry that they’re around

3. The person you would never want to meet? someone i used to know who things are now awkward with

4. What is your favorite word? oblong or shenanigans 

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be? idk like a mulberry tree

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought? that my hair was sticking up from my sleep

7. What shirt are you wearing? pink &  blue stipy crop

8. What do you label yourself as? flamboyant & eccentric 

9. Bright room or dark room? dark room

10. What were you doing at midnight last night? finishing infinity war or reading fanfic sjdfhjlkf

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far? 20

12. Who told you they loved you last? probably my old best friend dom

13. Your worst enemy? i dont really have any enemies. i try to get on with everyone or keep to myself if that’s not possible

14. What is your current desktop picture? a scene from kiki’s delivery service with a window near some greenery

15. Do you like someone? not romantically no. i only ever go to work and work romances are inappropriate

16. The last song you listened to? pussy is gof

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? id like to say someone like trump, but i think his death wouldn’t really lead to much positive change. maybe a billionaire with an heir who would do better with what they have? i’lll have to research this

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? nobody immediately springs to mind. 

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do? technically i’d make someone like jeff bezos my slave and then force him to give his money to the homeless, or to pay his workers a higher wage, or something to that anti-capitalist extent. maybe i’d force major ceos to try and combat global warming if it isnt too late

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional) everyone says my eyes - and i do like them, but im inclined to say my hair. i love my hair so much

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do? id be super hot with colourings like zayn malik or rdj and id probably immediately jack off dsfjlkdsjfkl

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? no serious answers come to mind

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? asking people for a favour/for help. answering the phone when im not at work

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. my subway usual! white bread, chicken stips with melted cheese, cucumber, capsicum, olives, jalepenos, honey mustard sauce, salt and pepper

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? probably use it to save for a car, or to help fund dad’s trip to america/england that i got roped into having to pay for

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go? i have work tomorrow :/ but i guess if i could get out of that i’d go to greece or something?

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? ive never had expensive alcohol so i’d probably get like a scotch whiskey or some usual vodka (but pre-mixed. i always puke when i mix vodka myself)

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? YEEEESSSS, um first rule would be that everyone gets food/shelter/water for free. regardless of who you are. 

29. What is your favorite expletive? used to be shit, now i think it’s just fuck.

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? my phone

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? g o d. i think i’d erase either my 18th birthday or the day we first moved into the house im living in now

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world! fuck yeah i’d go live with harry styles or someone in america or england or whatever. maybe canada. canada seems cool. 

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? my mum’s father! i’ve always wanted to meet him. we have a lot in common from what i’m told (i was 2 when he died so i dont even remember him). but we’re both leos! we both love dancing and we both love music and singing (he was a musician. and music is like.....all i have). we both like cigarettes and swearing. we both had shit mothers. he seems a cool dude. he had that leo generosity and gave my mum a car and money when she needed it and i never had a good person/parent like that around and i’d love to know him and now im getting sad so. did not see that coming round the corner

34. What was your last dream about? this is going to sound weird but it was about this gross old fat dude sitting in a car next to me (i think my family started driving people around for money in my dream) and he started feeling me up and i told him off. 

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]? person? artist? singer? student? worker? nope. im not good at much. 

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital? yeah twice that i can recall atm. once when i was 9 months for having a cyst on my ovary, and once when i was 19 for having gastro and puking non-stop.

37. Have you ever built a snowman? nah i wish. it doesnt snow in australia

38. What is the color of your socks? im not wearing any atm but the last pair i wore were red and black deadpool ones

39. What type of music do you like? GOD okay my answer is any type of music. but it has to be good. upbeat music? 

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets? sunsets

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor? vanilla or caramel

42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer) i dont give a shit about sports

43. Do you have any scars? yeah i have one on my lower stomach from the surgery i got for my ovary cyst, one on my right hand from opening a tin of tuna and slicing my hand immediately (i later got food poisoning), i have some embarrassing ass self harm scars on my thighs, and i think that’s it? 

44. What do you want to be when you graduate? well i graduate uni in just over a week (next saturday) and i have no clue. at the moment i just want to get a job that has a set amount of hours and a set/steady pay and doesnt make me anxious. a desk job that i’m not terrible at. then i can move out. and once im moved out i wont be in survival mode, and maybe then i can start dreaming. but for now im desperate enough to not even have dreams or wants. 

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? i would make me more assertive and less anxious. and a bit more funny. a bit more like an aries or a leo. i think i will be more like this when im moved out and secure with a consistent job and consistent living space. i havent had that for like 6 years.

46. Are you reliable? very

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? god what a question. where should i work? and should i get a motorbike or a car? and id just ask for general advice

48. Do you hold grudges? absolutely. to be fair, i consider myself a very understanding and fair person, so it takes a lot to get me mad. but once im there, it’s usually justified and hard to change my mind. 

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create? like maybe a bird and a lion. imagine a flying lion. that’d be sick

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? out of what immediately springs to mind i have 2 equally strong contenders: 1) me, introducing myself to a worker on the first day at my job - “hi, i’m ____ by the way. i don’t think i’ve introduced myself to you yet” “i know.” “oh! sorry haha im just really bad with names and faces haha” "yeah. we went to school together. *walks away*  2) coworker: so how many babies do you think we’ll have to sacrifice to get a bigger back room? me: ........at least 1 million coworker: 1 million? wow! i was thinking like 7! me: 7? wow i really went overboard there. but wait! what counts as a baby? are there age or weight restrictions or? coworker: hm i think it’s like anyone under the age of 4 me: oh under 4? so if you kill a 5 year old and sacrifice it, then you’ve just wasted a kill and it doesn’t count? coworker: yeah pretty much.....i’ve done that a few times, actually. their parents were not happy me: yeah i’d imagine just as much. imagine having to have that conversation with their parents like ‘uhh sorry about that’ coworker: yeah and it was all for nothing too

51. Are you a good liar? yes, when i know the people and situation well. i usually plan out my lies in advance, but for whatever reason im actually a better liar when im thinking on my feet and improvising the lies. have no idea how or why. 

52. How long could you go without talking? fucking forever. i’m great at talking, a very good conversationalist. but fuck i love not having to talk to people. it’s so much effort. 

53. What has been you worst haircut/style? my mum cut a fringe for me when i was 12. 

54. Have you ever baked your own cake? all the time! i love baking

55. Can you do any accents other than your own? nope

56. What do you like on your toast? vegemite, egg, honey & peanut butter, sometimes jam (mostly when im high)

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of? captain phasma

58. What would be you dream car? a 59 cadillac, or most ferraris 

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain. i dont usually sing in the shower, but i do enjoy a good shower dance routine

60. Do you believe in aliens? for sure! our universe is too huge and constantly expanding for there to be just us

61. Do you often read your horoscope? god you dont even want to know how much i fucking love astrology. astrology is my mind. it occupies about 1/3 of all my thoughts and i immediately try to figure out people’s signs within the first .... maybe 5 seconds of meeting them.

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet? maybe p or r or v

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons? dinosaurs

64. What do you think about babies? cute when they’re not mine and i can give them back to their mothers after 5 minutes

65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.

[manwithasociologyblog]

                       Lesson 15, Task 3: Who am I?

Text to recording:“I'm Cris, I'm 27 years old and yes I am one of those “self-entitled Millennials” you hear about.  One of those young folks who loves luxury, has bad manners, has contempt for authority, disrespects his elders, and loves talking instead of exercise. I think nothing but of myself and have no reverence for my parents or people of old age. Do these things sound like the descriptions of millennials you often hear of?

Well, I’m actually paraphrasing a quote often attributed to the Greek philosopher Socrates in the 4th century BCE. You see, these types of generalizations aren't new. If your older than someone in my generation, than I'm sure the same types of things have been said about your own generation. But is there any truth to these words?

Well, maybe. It's not hard to imagine that someone living in a generation that has more access to a good standard of living will search for more, even if that is luxury, it's simply human nature to strive for a better life.

As to having contempt for authority, well we are a more educated generation due to the resources accessible to us, we know of and have more exposure to what authority can lead too if it’s not questioned. We see the effects of totalitarianism and police brutality, so we speak against these unhinged forms of authority.

I completely understand the assertion that we don't care for or disrespect the elderly, however, we must consider the fact that social attitudes have changed and that maybe we as a younger generation feel that not every elderly person is entitled to undue respect, simply because they're elderly. Maybe we don't find it just to excuse or refuse to question older people when they say prejudice things, because we believe everyone should be held accountable for their actions.

Oh, and have I mentioned that according to a study done by the Pew Research center... the vast majority of 18- to 29-year-olds polled — 84 percent — said adult children have a responsibility to provide financial assistance to an elderly parent if he or she needs it.

Lastly, do we come off as being the most self-entitled and egocentric generation in history? Possibly. However, we're also the generation most passionate about the environment and saving our world. We vote for green legislations and are outraged by environmental injustices committed by big corporations. We don't stand for social injustices. Masses of millennials go out in the streets protesting for gay, black, women, income inequality issues and rights - in numbers that have never been seen before around the world. So, if that's what you call only thinking about ourselves, so be it.

Hey, it's Cris again. In case you got lost in that tangent.

Not only am I a millennial, but I'm also a male. I don't know what to say about that exactly.

I guess, I hope I don't contribute much to behaviours that could be described as “toxic masculinity"…

Why you may ask? Because I see how those notions affect women, and not only women but most men like myself. You see I don't mind crying in front of people, I'm quite clumsy, and I'm drastically afraid of most insects. Those types of things didn't really help me from being picked on by my male peers, who'd call me things like a little girl. Because apparently the worse thing in the world is being a little girl...

Yeah, that's how I know toxic masculinity and misogyny affect not only women but also men in society. I do however play team sports like soccer. I like watching mma and ultra violent gangster movies, which unfortunately probably have impacts on some of those issues linked to toxic masculinity

On another note, I'm not quite the lady's man myself either. Probably not winning over any one of those delightful "alpha male" frat boys we hear of. That's because I'm gay (sorry ladies, I know I sound so…. appealing).

I’m also most likely not helping my case against stereotyping by admitting to those signs of “male weaknesses” I mentioned before. But then, I'm pretty sure being gay is enough for a lot of those guys concerned with policing others males’ masculinities, to see me as a "beta male".

I'm not quite concerned with being seen as either “masculine” or "effeminate", despite the fact that many people think its a compliment to tell me things like, "wow, you seem so straight. I would have never expected you to be gay!"

You know because all gay men are apparently the highly flamboyant caricatures you see on tv. Not that there's anything wrong with the one's who are. But just like there are heterosexual guys who aren't the most "masculine", there are gay guys who are and aren't themselves. And like I said, I don't mind embracing either "masculine" or "feminine" qualities.

Yes, I do like to play sports. I work in construction. I can be a slob. I'm quite physically fit and strong. And I’m good with tools as well.

 But I also like to take care and nurture others. I'm interested in careers that are seen as female dominated such as social sciences. And like I said I don't mind expressing my emotions.

Actually, I think its important to encourage boys to express their emotions. We used to teach them to repress them, so that we could easily turn them to unempathetic killing machines.

Trust me, I know first hand... I was taught to salute to an image of Che Guevara and how to use a gun before I finished adolescence!

Yeah, I said Che Guevara... one of the "heroes" of the Cuba revolution. Did I mention that I'm from Cuba? My parents are Cuban and Brazilian, respectfully, and I was raised between the two countries for a good part of my life.

Yes, I do love futebol or how people here call it "soccer", and yes I do love to dance, which is probably a paradoxical notion in itself because I'm a pasty Latin American of European descent, and.. I think the notion goes white people can't dance?

Weird because white people in the Caribbean and Brazil are some of the best dancers I've met in my whole life, in addition to their black counter-parts.

That's another thing I've never got, why white North Americans are apparently representatives of all "white people"; given that most white people in Latin America and Europe are probably not speaking English in their everyday lives, unless necessary, and most probably don't love Jesus, Guns, and country music the way a lot of white Americans do.

Sorry, I'm stereotyping there myself.

Oh, and yes, I am a pale blond boy that speaks Spanish, and no, that's really not that odd. I mean the Spanish language was brought to Latin America, Africa, and Asia by European colonists from Spain. Last time I checked Spaniards were white Europeans in the same way the Welsh, Gascons, Greeks, and Latvians are, and quite often blond-haired at that. I mean if you've watched the world cup you’ve probably seen Nacho Monreal, Gerard Pique both who are blond.

Both of those footballers mentioned are Catalan by the way, which is coincidentally where part of my dad's family comes from in Spain. Catalonia. My mom's family on the other hand are a mix of Eastern Europeans and West Asians.

Yeah, fyi Brazil was doing the "country of immigrants" game way before Canada was, and so many of us are not named Dias, Martins, and Goncalves but also Dicker as in German Brazilian Cintia Dicker, Temer as in the Lebanese-Brazilian president Michel Temer, Roussef as in Bulgarian-Brazilian former president Dilma Roussef, Ambrossio as in Italian-Polish Brazilian Alessandra Ambrossio, and Suzuki as in Japanese-Brazilian Daniele Suzuki and so on.

Additionally, if you've noticed, the most common surnames in Brazil are names like Gomes and Pereira, not Gomez and Pujol. This is because Brazil was a Portuguese colony and not a Castilian one, and most Brazilians don't speak Spanish as a first language, but Portuguese.

 Actually, because of the level of immigrants that came to Brazil (the second most in the Americas, between the U.S. and Argentina) many Brazilians, like my grandma who spoke mostly Polish and Ukrainian, did not learn to speak Portuguese until very recently. Unfortunately, due to forced assimilationist policies.

Another interesting thing about my own family history? My Lebanese great-grandmother was a Maronite Catholic, while my grandfather was a Crimean Tatar from Ukraine. Tatars like him are generally Muslims.

Yeah, I know I'm blowing the mind of some dude in rural Alabama; a blond, green eyed, white Latin American Muslim!? Well, actually I was raised in a mixture of Sufi Islam, Roman Catholicism, and something called Lukumi.

 Lukumi or Santeria is an Afro-Cuban religion which originated with the Yoruba in Africa and was brought by enslaved Africans to the country. Its the most popular religion in Cuba, since the communist regime was not too fond of Catholicism, and these days its practiced not only by black and mixed Cubans, but also white Cubans.

Which, I won't lie, there's probably a quite a bit of problematicness with the descendants of slave-owners dressing up in Yoruban clothing and singing chants to the gods of the ancestors of the people their ancestors enslaved.

But I disgress, discussions of cultural appropriation have ironically not reached Cuba yet, because "we live in a racial paradise" and our dear saviour Fidel Castro put a stop to any trace of racism in our society. Trust me! (and his brother's government too!). Cuba produces the largest number of black doctors in the West! Despite the fact that doctors in the country get paid bread crums, and any chance of making decent money is in the tourist industry or being an elite in the communist government. Which funny enough both sectors are vastly occupied by white Cubans...

Anyways, back to Lukumi. Lukumi is greatly related to Afro-Brazilian Candomble and Haitian Voodoo, and yes, we do sacrifice chickens. However, it's no different than ritual sacrifice in Judaism and Islam, we do it humanely and we eat the meat after. However, no we do not use "Voodoo dolls" and no our religion, and Haitian Voodoo, both are not "evil". In fact, the European dichotomous concepts don't actually exist in these religions, but either way both promote treating your fellow man with love and respect. In fact, the association with witch-craft, satanism, and evil was invented by Spanish and French slave-owners by pure ignorance in order to demoralize the Africans in Cuba and Haiti.

Anyways, let's try to cure modern ignorance, and not define each other by stereotypes. Sure, you may label me as a 28-year-old, white Cuban/Brazilian, gay millennial dude, who was raised in array of religions, but at the end of the day I'm simply, Cris, a Hatsune Miku stan. (just kidding)”

*FYI I’m 27 turning 28 very soon, so that’s why I messed up my age, lol*

[beyondforks]

Book Review: The Alienist by Caleb Carr

The Alienist (Dr. Laszlo Kreizler #1) by Caleb Carr 

Genre: Adult Fiction (Historical Fiction/Mystery) Date Published: October 24, 2006 (first published December 15th 1994) Publisher: Random House

When The Alienist was first published in 1994, it was a major phenomenon, spending six months on the New York Times bestseller list, receiving critical acclaim, and selling millions of copies. This modern classic continues to be a touchstone of historical suspense fiction for readers everywhere.

The year is 1896. The city is New York. Newspaper reporter John Schuyler Moore is summoned by his friend Dr. Laszlo Kreizler—a psychologist, or “alienist”—to view the horribly mutilated body of an adolescent boy abandoned on the unfinished Williamsburg Bridge. From there the two embark on a revolutionary effort in criminology: creating a psychological profile of the perpetrator based on the details of his crimes. Their dangerous quest takes them into the tortured past and twisted mind of a murderer who will kill again before their hunt is over.

Fast-paced and riveting, infused with historical detail, The Alienist conjures up Gilded Age New York, with its tenements and mansions, corrupt cops and flamboyant gangsters, shining opera houses and seamy gin mills. It is an age in which questioning society’s belief that all killers are born, not made, could have unexpected and fatal consequences.

The Alienist is the first book in the Dr. Laszlo Kreizler series by Caleb Carr. I really wanted to read this book before the series started, but too many books, too little time. You now how it goes. Still, I've only seen the first episode, so it all worked out. The premise and the setting made the story very intriguing. Unfortunately, the rest fell pretty flat for me. I'd heard such good things, so I was disappointed when I didn't love it. 

It was devoid of emotion... almost like a textbook at times, but with conversations. I would expect that lack of emotion if it had been told from the point of view of the killer, but it wasn't. When it came to the murders, the writing was descriptive and clinical rather than graphic, again, like a textbook. Which is okay. We don't need graphic. And I get it. The story was geared toward the intellect, but the state of the bodies, plus the victims being children, and death is never pretty to begin with. All those things bring out emotions regardless, so the lack of emotion within the story made it all feel very detached and unnatural. 

I never felt like I got to know the characters either. I know the basics about them, but we never really get to know them. What I do know of them, wasn't always believable for their time period, and because of these things, I wasn't drawn in or invested in their story. Also, it was a bit predictable. I loved the setting though. It really felt like I'd imagine the late 1800's in New York City to feel like. Sometimes, it didn't feel too different than NYC today. 

You may like it though. What do I know? Most who've read it, loved it. So, give the book a try. It was certainly interesting at times!

Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1 January 8th, 1919 Theodore is in the ground.  The words as I write them make as little sense as did the sight of his coffin descending into a patch of sandy soil near Sagamore Hill, the place he loved more than any other on earth. As I stood there this afternoon, in the cold January wind that blew off Long Island Sound, I thought to myself: Of course it’s a joke. Of course he’ll burst the lid open, blind us all with that ridiculous grin and split our ears with a high-pitched bark of laughter. Then he’ll exclaim that there’s work to do—“action to get!”—and we’ll all be martialed to the task of protecting some obscure species of newt from the ravages of a predatory industrial giant bent on planting a fetid factory on the little amphipian’s breeding ground. I was not alone in such fantasies; everyone at the funeral expected something of the kind, it was plain on their faces. All reports indicate that most of the country and much of the world feel the same way. The notion of Theodore Roosevelt being gone is that—unacceptable. In truth, he’d been fading for longer than anyone wanted to admit, really since his son Quentin was killed in the last days of the Great Butchery. Cecil Spring-Rice once droned, in his best British blend of affection and needling, that Roosevelt was throughout his life “about six”; and Herm Hagedorn noted that after Quentin was shot out of the sky in the summer of 1918 “the boy in Theodore died.” I dined with Laszlo Kreizler at Delmonico’s tonight, and mentioned Hagedorn’s comment to him. For the remaining two courses of my meal I was treated to a long, typically passionate explanation of why Quentin’s death was more than simply heartbreaking for Theodore: he had felt profound guilt, too, guilt at having so instilled his philosophy of “the strenuous life” in all his children that they often placed themselves deliberately in harm’s way, knowing it would delight their beloved father. Grief was almost unbearable to Theodore, I’d always known that; whenever he had to come to grips with the death of someone close, it seemed he might not survive the struggle. But it wasn’t until tonight, while listening to Kreizler, that I understood the extent to which moral uncertainty was also intolerable to the twenty-sixth president, who sometimes seemed to think himself Justice personified. Kreizler . . . He didn’t want to attend the funeral, though Edith Roosevelt would have liked him to. She has always been truly partial to the man she calls “the enigma,” the brilliant doctor whose studies of the human mind have disturbed so many people so profoundly over the last forty years. Kreizler wrote Edith a note explaining that he did not much like the idea of a world without Theodore, and, being as he’s now sixty-four and has spent his life staring ugly realities full in the face, he thinks he’ll just indulge himself and ignore the fact of his friend’s passing. Edith told me today that reading Kreizler’s note moved her to tears, because she realized that Theodore’s boundless affection and enthusiasm—which revolted so many cynics and was, I’m obliged to say in the interests of journalistic integrity, sometimes difficult even for friends to tolerate—had been strong enough to touch a man whose remove from most of human society seemed to almost everyone else unbridgeable. Some of the boys from the Times wanted me to come to a memorial dinner tonight, but a quiet evening with Kreizler seemed much the more appropriate thing. It wasn’t out of nostalgia for any shared boyhood in New York that we raised our glasses, because Laszlo and Theodore didn’t actually meet until Harvard. No, Kreizler and I were fixing our hearts on the spring of 1896—nearly a quarter-century ago!—and on a series of events that still seems too bizarre to have occurred even in this city. By the end of our dessert and Madeira (and how poignant to have a memorial meal in Delmonico’s, good old Del’s, now on its way out like the rest of us, but in those days the bustling scene of some of our most important encounters), the two of us were laughing and shaking our heads, amazed to this day that we were able to get through the ordeal with our skins; and still saddened, as I could see in Kreizler’s face and feel in my own chest, by the thought of those who didn’t. There’s no simple way to describe it. I could say that in retrospect it seems that all three of our lives, and those of many others, led inevitably and fatefully to that one experience; but then I’d be broaching the subject of psychological determinism and questioning man’s free will—reopening, in other words, the philosophical conundrum that wove irrepressibly in and out of the nightmarish proceedings, like the only hummable tune in a difficult opera. Or I could say that, during the course of those months, Roosevelt, Kreizler, and I, assisted by some of the best people I’ve ever known, set out on the trail of a murderous monster and ended up coming face-to-face with a frightened child; but that would be deliberately vague, too full of the “ambiguity” that seems to fascinate current novelists and which has kept me, lately, out of the bookstores and in the picture houses. No, there’s only one way to do it, and that’s to tell the whole thing, going back to that first grisly night and that first butchered body; back even further, in fact, to our days with Professor James at Harvard. Yes, to dredge it all up and put it finally before the public—that’s the way. The public may not like it; in fact, it’s been concern about public reaction that’s forced us to keep our secret for so many years. Even the majority of Theodore’s obituaries made no reference to the event. In listing his achievements as president of the Board of Commissioners of New York City’s Police Department from 1895 to 1897, only the Herald—which goes virtually unread these days—tacked on uncomfortably, “and of course, the solution to the ghastly murders of 1896, which so appalled the city.” Yet Theodore never claimed credit for that solution. True, he had been open-minded enough, despite his own qualms, to put the investigation in the hands of a man who could solve the puzzle. But privately he always acknowledged that man to be Kreizler. He could scarcely have done so publicly. Theodore knew that the American people were not ready to believe him, or even to hear the details of the assertion. I wonder if they are now. Kreizler doubts it. I told him I intended to write the story, and he gave me one of his sardonic chuckles and said that it would only frighten and repel people, nothing more. The country, he declared tonight, really hasn’t changed much since 1896, for all the work of people like Theodore, and Jake Riis and Lincoln Steffens, and the many other men and women of their ilk. We’re all still running, according to Kreizler—in our private moments we Americans are running just as fast and fearfully as we were then, running away from the darkness we know to lie behind so many apparently tranquil household doors, away from the nightmares that continue to be injected into children’s skulls by people whom Nature tells them they should love and trust, running ever faster and in ever greater numbers toward those potions, powders, priests, and philosophies that promise to obliterate such fears and nightmares, and ask in return only slavish devotion. Can he truly be right . . . ? But I wax ambiguous. To the beginning, then! CHAPTER 2  An ungodly pummeling on the door of my grandmother’s house at 19 Washington Square North brought first the maid and then my grandmother herself to the doorways of their bedrooms at two  o’clock on the morning of March 3, 1896. I lay in bed in that no-longer-drunk yet not-quite-sober state which is usually softened by sleep, knowing that whoever was at the door probably had business with me rather than my grandmother. I burrowed into my linen-cased pillows, hoping that he’d just give up and go away. “Mrs. Moore!” I heard the maid call. “It’s a fearful racket—shall I answer it, then?” “You shall not,” my grandmother replied, in her well-clipped, stern voice. “Wake my grandson, Harriet. Doubtless he’s forgotten a gambling debt!” I then heard footsteps heading toward my room and decided I’d better get ready. Since the demise of my engagement to Miss Julia Pratt of Washington some two years earlier, I’d been staying with my grandmother, and during that time the old girl had become steadily more skeptical about the ways in which I spent my off-hours. I had repeatedly explained that, as a police reporter for The New York Times, I was required to visit many of the city’s seamier districts and houses and consort with some less than savory characters; but she remembered my youth too well to accept that admittedly strained story. My homecoming deportment on the average evening generally reinforced her suspicion that it was state of mind, not professional obligation, that drew me to the dance halls and gaming tables of the Tenderloin every night; and I realized, having caught the gambling remark just made to Harriet, that it was now crucial to project the image of a sober man with serious concerns. I shot into a black Chinese robe, forced my short hair down on my head, and opened the door loftily just as Harriet reached it. “Ah, Harriet,” I said calmly, one hand inside the robe. “No need for alarm. I was just reviewing some notes for a story, and found I needed some materials from the office. Doubtless that’s the boy with them now.” “John!” my grandmother blared as Harriet nodded in confusion. “Is that you?” “No, Grandmother,” I said, trotting down the thick Persian carpet on the stairs. “It’s Dr. Holmes.” Dr. H. H. Holmes was an unspeakably sadistic murderer and confidence man who was at that moment waiting to be hanged in Philadelphia. The possibility that he might escape before his appointment with the executioner and then journey to New York to do my grandmother in was, for some inexplicable reason, her greatest nightmare. I arrived at the door of her room and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which she accepted without a smile, though it pleased her. “Don’t be insolent, John. It’s your least attractive quality. And don’t think your handsome charms will make me any less irritated.” The pounding on the door started again, followed by a boy’s voice calling my name. My grandmother’s frown deepened. “Who in blazes is that and what in blazes does he want?” “I believe it’s a boy from the office,” I said, maintaining the lie but myself perturbed about the identity of the young man who was taking the front door to such stern task. “The office?” my grandmother said, not believing a word of it. “All right, then, answer it.” I went quickly but cautiously to the bottom of the staircase, where I realized that in fact I knew the voice that was calling for me but couldn’t identify it precisely. Nor was I reassured by the fact that it was a young voice—some of the most vicious thieves and killers I’d encountered in the New York of 1896 were mere striplings. “Mr. Moore!” The young man pleaded again, adding a few healthy kicks to his knocks. “I must talk to Mr. John Schuyler Moore!” I stood on the black and white marble floor of the vestibule. “Who’s there?” I said, one hand on the lock of the door. “It’s me, sir! Stevie, sir!” I breathed a slight sigh of relief and unlocked the heavy wooden portal. Outside, standing in the dim light of an overhead gas lamp—the only one in the house that my grandmother had refused to have replaced with an electric bulb—was Stevie Taggert, “the Stevepipe,” as he was known. In his first eleven years Stevie had risen to become the bane of fifteen police precincts; but he’d then been reformed by, and was now a driver and general errand boy for, the eminent physician and alienist, my good friend Dr. Laszlo Kreizler. Stevie leaned against one of the white columns outside the door and tried to catch his breath—something had clearly terrified the lad. “Stevie!” I said, seeing that his long sheet of straight brown hair was matted with sweat. “What’s happened?” Looking beyond him I saw Kreizler’s small Canadian calash. The cover of the black carriage was folded down, and the rig was drawn by a matching gelding called Frederick. The animal was, like Stevie, bathed in sweat, which steamed in the early March air. “Is Dr. Kreizler with you?” “The doctor says you’re to come with me!” Stevie answered in a rush, his breath back. “Right away!” “But where? It’s two in the morning—” “Right away!” He was obviously in no condition to explain, so I told him to wait while I put on some clothes. As I did so, my grandmother shouted through my bedroom door that whatever “that peculiar Dr. Kreizler” and I were up to at two in the morning she was sure it was not respectable. Ignoring her as best I could, I got back outside, pulling my tweed coat close as I jumped into the carriage. I didn’t even have time to sit before Stevie lashed at Frederick with a long whip. Falling back into the dark maroon leather of the seat, I thought to upbraid the boy, but again the look of fear in his face struck me. I braced myself as the carriage careened at a somewhat alarming pace over the cobblestones of Washington Square. The shaking and jostling eased only marginally as we turned onto the long, wide slabs of Russ pavement on Broadway. We were heading downtown, downtown and east, into that quarter of Manhattan where Laszlo Kreizler plied his trade and where life became, the further one progressed into the area, ever cheaper and more sordid: the Lower East Side.

Caleb Carr is the critically acclaimed author of The Alienist, The Angel of Darkness, The Lessons of Terror, Killing Time, The Devil Soldier, The Italian Secretary, The Legend of Broken, and Surrender, New York. He has taught military history at Bard College, and worked extensively in film, television, and the theater. His military and political writings have appeared in numerous magazines and periodicals, among them The Washington Post, The New York Times, and The Wall Street Journal. He lives in upstate New York. To learn more about Caleb Carr and his books, visit him on Goodreads and Random House.