#*peyton prince

[cutietrait]

bria decided pretty last-minute to invite ace to her and peyton’s nye club-hopping extravaganza after a quick run-in at the apartment mailroom. the night started off great—but once joel and bria got a little … distracted … on the dance floor, peyton and ace found themselves getting to know each other a little better than expected.

PEYTON PRINCE + ACE AMBROSE — BRIA IN THE BIG CITY

[selenasgirltiffany21]

[starleska]

a recreation of me accidentally stumbling across Royal Margarine Cookie's voice lines for the first time at 2am last night 😳😳😳😳

[soovermyself]

More of the weekend fun 💫

[sassysophiabush]

[books-and-strawberry-tea]

Guys…you won’t believe it…but I have 2 book reviews for you.

I KNOW RIGHT ITS BEEN FOR FUCKING EVER!!!

But here we are! It’s been really hard to read recently. For a fair few months now it’s just been nuts. My life has been incredibly unstable. And I’m only just starting to stabilise again. So let get into what books I read and my thoughts. Both a YA and a Dark RomCom. Since the later is 18+ in content, I’m gonna have the YA first, and whoever wants to read the next one, will be able to click the cut off. 💕Click on the title of the book to be taken to the goodreads pages💕

First book is:

The Rose Bargain by Sasha Peyton Smith!!

⭐️⭐️⭐️.75

I’ll be honest. The first 70% of this book was okay. I wouldn’t say it was amazing. But it was entertaining just enough to keep me interested and wanting to know how it ended. A few times I pondered if I wanted to keep reading, and each time I decided to keep going. And fuck I’m so glad I did!!!

The book follows Ivy Benton, who enters the trial to be Prince Bram’s bride. Competing against 6 other selected girls (these girls were the final 6 of the first trial), she fights to overthrow Queen Mor and her hold on the human world, that being yes, Queen Mor is a fae. The book revolves around fae and the human world, connecting both realms, set in an alternate version of England in the 1800s.

The first half of the book is honestly…pretty quiet. Kinda slow to me tbh. But holy shit, next thing you know you have murder, forbidden love, rebellion, A VILLAIN THAT I HONESTLY JUST DID NOT EXPECT LIKE OH MY GOD. THE LAST FEW CHAPTERS LEFT MY HEART ACHING FOR PRINCE EMMET.

I need book 2. And I need it now.

On to the second book!

Lights Out by Navessa Allen!!

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This book…has been living in my head rent free since I started reading it. I began reading on the 18th of May, and finished on the 25th of May. And if I didn’t have to work much that week, I would have finished it way sooner.

Keep in mind, this book is a 18+ stalker romance, please continue with your own discretion.

This book, I fucking love this book. It is not perfect. Not by any means. But it is fun. I laughed. I giggled. I smiled. I had all the feels. I went out and bought a physical copy to hold in my hands that’s how much I enjoyed it. And if you know me, 99% of the time if I buy a book, it’s cause I’ve read it on my kindle and wanted to have a proper copy of it. Anyway:

This book follows Aly, an ER nurse with an obsession for masked TikTok men. It also follows Josh, a masked TikToker who is obsessed with Aly. And oh my lord does he make that known. The first time they meet he’s completely masked and refuses to speak, cause turns out, Aly knows Josh irl. She just doesn’t know that she’s obsessed with his masked TikTok. And Josh absolutely uses this to his advantage.

I will say this now, this book is genuinely based on a joke. Yk the whole ‘girlies obsessed with masked men online and frothing for them’? This book is taking on that trend, and making an enjoyable book out of it. It is a silly book. Do not take it seriously.

I fucking loved Josh. Not his name, but that’s a personal thing. Other than that, absolutely adored him. Yes he’s morally grey, yes he’s a stalker, yes he puts cameras in her house to protect her from other creeps in the world. And yes, he sees the hypocrisy in that. But holy shit I’m glad he does. Cause holy shit there is some wild events in this story let me tell you.

Also, the scene where Josh realises he’s not a monster like his father when Fred snuggles up to him 😭 iykyk!!!! Fucking love Fred. Fred is Aly’s cat son.

I feel like I can’t say too much about this book cause it spoils a lot of what happens later on. I will say tho, half way through, you do meet the character that the second book will be about. So that’s exciting. And also fuck, Josh’s back story with his dad, heartbreaking. Oh my god. I cried.

All through this book I got Butcher and Blackbird vibes. And I very much think of you enjoyed that, there’s a high chance you’ll like Lights Out.

[yeaimrich]

Previously I had taken a picture of myself. Here's all the tags I missed.

[sinceileftyoublog]

Cassie Berman, Styrofoam Winos, & DAR Live Preview: 8/18, Sleeping Village, Chicago

Styrofoam Winos

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Sunday night at Sleeping Village will feature its fair share of Chicago, Nashville, and "Kentuckiana" pride.

First and foremost is none other than Cassie Berman, of Silver Jews fame and the ex-wife of the late, great David Berman. During her time with Silver Jews, Cassie contributed vocals and bass to the band's three Aughts LPs, Bright Flight (2001), Tanglewood Numbers (2005), and Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea (2008). Her relationship with Chicago and Drag City, though, goes back into the 90s via her collaborations with David Pajo, playing bass as part of his Aerial M and Papa M monikers. On Sunday, Berman will be playing some new solo material (!) along with a few Silver Jews songs, and she'll be accompanied by New Radiant Storm King vocalist Peyton Pinkerton, who himself played guitar on Silver Jews' 1996 sophomore record The Natural Bridge. Though Berman doesn't have much solo recorded material to her name, she did cover American Water opus "The Wild Kindness" with David's longtime labelmates Bill Callahan and Bonnie "Prince" Billy on their collaborative Blind Date Party album. Perhaps that'll be one of the Silver Jews cuts she performs on Sunday? Or maybe some that the former Silver Jews bandmates and Will Oldham played last Saturday?

The other two acts are both representatives of Jeffersonville, Indiana label Sophomore Lounge. You may have heard the Nashville-based Styrofoam Winos on MJ Lenderman's And the Wind (Live and Loose!) album released last year, joining him to cover Danny Dill and Marijohn Wilkin's country ballad "Long Black Veil" (originally recorded by Lefty Frizzell). The trio of Lou Turner, Trevor Nikrant, and Joe Kenkel so far has a few releases to their name, including an underrated self-titled record and a Michael Hurley covers album. In September, they'll drop their second album for Sophomore Lounge, entitled Real Time; so far, they've released the strutting, bluesy "Don't Mind Me". Live, as on record, the band switches off vocal and instrumental duties, maintaining their rollicking choogle punk the whole time.

Rounding it all out is Chicago-via-Louisville multi-instrumentalist Aaron Osbourne, who records as DAR. He's released two records on Sophomore Lounge, 2020's Where the Future Lives and March's A Slightly Larger Head. DAR's latest is a bedroom rock heartbreak record whose sound extends beyond the confines of its guitar, toy piano, drum machine, and digital brass soundscapes. More importantly, Osbourne does not wallow in a state of navel-gazing but rather finds unlikely hope stemming from the nadirs of life. Listeners should certainly be curious as to how he will adapt the album's varied sound to the live stage.

[eternal-love]

Welcome to my blog! My name is Ale and I mainly write for Austin Butler (his characters).

EDITS

SERIES:

AUSTIN AND ME (Austin Butler)

Summary: Cynthia believes that she will have a fairytale life besides Austin. She couldn’t be more wrong. As she faces the real difficulties of marriage and she understand how no one is perfect.

FAMILY TREE (Feyd Rautha)

Summary: After Lady Jessica betrayed the Bene Gesserit by giving Duke Leto a son, she tried to make amends with the sisterhood by giving them a daughter— Arya.

ONE-SHOTS

STAR (Peyton Leverett x reader)

Summary; You help Peyton out on his new film project, but things take a turn for the best once he discovers what you, his little star, could do.

PUBLIC RELATIONS (Austin Butler x reader)

Summary: Things haven’t been going well since the birth of your baby and PR is chasing you guys’ asses to make it work.

LOVER, YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN (Austin Butler x reader)

Summary: After their divorce, Austin and you find each other again. And you catch up.

GOOD MEN DIE TOO (Benny Cross x reader)

Summary: Danny finally gets to sit down with you and hear about Benny.

STRANGERS (Cowboy!Austin x reader)

Summary: If you talk to strangers, you’ll fall in love. You learned it the hard way.

PURE (Priest!Austin x reader)

Summary: The priest at church makes sure you sin, all because he thought you were an innocent lamb.

GIRLFRIEND (Sebastian Kydd x reader)

Summary: You and Sebastian get alone. You never liked how Carrie treated him anyways.

GASLIGHT (Austin Butler x reader)

Summary: Photos of him and a model go viral online. You confront him.

THE SMALLEST MAN WHO EVER LIVED (Austin Butler x reader)

Summary: You’re heavily pregnant and discover a horrible truth about your husband.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, PLEASE DONT CALL (Austin Butler x reader)

Summary: Austin never defended you against the hate comments about your body. Now he wanted you to forgive and forget.

VENUS (Austin!elvis x reader)

Summary: You and Elvis celebrate your first wedding anniversary.

SWEETHEART (Austin Butler x reader)

Summary: You and Austin play Elvis and Priscilla, and blow off some steam in the makeup trailer.

A NONSENSE CHRISTMAS (Austin Butler x reader)

Summary: Austin hates your Christmas parties, but he does like fucking you when the guests arrive.

LACY (Courtier!Austin x Queen!reader)

Summary: You are the Queen, and you take a liking for a young courtier.

ITS TOO LATE (Austin x reader)

Summary: Austin and you try to rekindle your marriage by going back to the place you grew up in.

DISEASE (Prince!Austin x reader)

Summary: Turns out it’s not so hard to get a prince to fall for you.

SOAKED (Austin x reader)

Summary: You help Austin relax in the shower.

LEAVE (Benny Cross x reader)

Summary: You finally decided to stand up to Benny, it doesn’t work out the way you wanted.

LIGHTS, LABOR, ACTION! (Austin x reader)

Summary: Your baby decided to be the star of your own film.

[cutietrait]

bria and peyton did not expect how much being Real Deal (young) Adults would affect how often they’d be able to spend time together — especially after being lifelong besties! catch-ups like these are always much needed.

BRIA BANKS + PEYTON PRINCE — BRIA IN THE BIG CITY

[chrisfavdrink]

Moodboards

Batman!Matt

Catwoman!Reader

Joker!Chris

Harley Quinn!Reader

Robin!Nick

Benny Drill

Peyton Fox (Anomaly AU)

Prince!Chris (Anomaly AU)

Prince!Matt (Anomaly AU)

[bibibitournament]

Next up: Mini-tourney + Favourite Bisexual Character

Mini-tourney! My childhood crushes will battle it out!

I decided not to include characters that have been submitted in the previous two seasons! This mini-tourney will only run 3 days per poll, but have 32 contestants! They are:

Peyton Sawyer (One Tree Hill)

Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson)

Susan Pevensie (The Chronicles of Narnia)

Prince Caspian (The Chronicles of Narnia)

Skye (Agents of Shield)

Stiles Stilinski (Teen Wolf)

Lydia Martin (Teen Wolf)

Dean Winchester (Supernatural)

Bela Talbot (Supernatural)

Jesse (Pitch Perfect)

Isabelle Lightwood (Shadowhunters)

Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)

Finnick O'dair (The Hunger Games)

Margaery Tyrell (Game of Thrones)

Eggsy Unwin (Kingsman)

Rosalie Hale (Twilight)

Sir Lancelot (Merlin)

Black Widow (Iron Man 2/The Avengers)

Ahkmenrah (Night at the Museum)

Erica Reyes (Teen Wolf)

Nathan Scott (One Tree Hill)

Danaerys Targaryen (Game of Thrones)

Kira Yukumira (Teen Wolf)

Michaela Pratt (How to get away with murder)

Wes Gibbins (How to get away with murder)

Loki (Thor)

Nate Archibald (Gossip Girl)

Serena van der Woodsen (Gossip Girl)

Kala Dandekar (Sense8)

Snow White (Snow White and the Huntsman)

Mary Queen of Scots (Reign)

Felicity Smoak (Arrow)

Favourite Bisexual Character

While this mini-tourney is happening, you can already submit characters for season 3! We will be looking for our favourite canonically bisexual character, so submit your fave bisexuals here

@tournament-announcer

[abort-that-thing-tournament]

hey, can we get a bracket? it would be cool to know how many submissions made it through and who is gonna be going up against who

I would love to give a bracket, it's just that our pool is so large and doesn't fit on one graphic (especially because we have a mix of two way and three way matchups for round one). I'm probably just going to hand draw one but in the meantime, here is the list of all round one matchups under the cut:

Group 1:

Shen Jiu v Gnomeo

Rose Quartz v Lane Kim v Byakuya Togami

Madam Satan v Fierceteeth v China Sorrows 

Jean-Luc Picard v John Cena v Sakura

John Winchester v Morrigan v Maomao

Mavis Dracula v Helly R. v Charles Leclerc

Carmen Diaz v Every Woman in Fire Emblem v Professor Pericles

Trafalgar D. Water Law v Gregory House v Geralt of Rivia

Big Mom (Charlotte Linlin) v Shiv Roy v Victor Frankenstein

Peyton Sawyer v Popper v Isabela

Hershel Layton v Giorno’s Mother

Lightning v Odile v Maka Albarn’s Mother

Spock v Evelyn Abbot v Sasuke

Dr Temperance “Bones” Brennan v Xie Lian v Giyuu Tomioka

Spamton G. Spamton v Rin v Mary Mother of Jesus

Reigen Arataka v Shiro

Group 2:

Stanford Pines v Jayce Talis

Gerard Way v Manfred von Karma v Terzo/Papa Emeritus III

Aizawa Shouta v Vincent Benitez v Eve 

Diana Prince v Sans v Lestat

Poppy Liu v Oli “TheOrionSound” v Londo Mollari

Kim Dokja v Tanith Low v Cardinal Copia

Miriam v Lillith Clawthorne v Judyhoppslovr69

Judy Hopps v All For One v Loki

Starscream v The Spy v W.D. Gaster

Catherine v Jaehaerys v Catherine Fengriffen

Seregil í Korit v Christine Daee v Rory Gilmore

Tritt v Lieutenant Colonel John Graves Simcoe v Adam Stanheight

The Joker v Astarion v Jesus

Jenna Hunterson v Levi Ackerman v Belos

Darla’s Mother v Brock Boeser v Rupert Giles

Belinda Chandra v Light Yagami

Group 3:

Bella Swan v Roy Mustang

Ruby Doo v Jin Guangyao v Steve Palchuck

Dazai Osamu v The Boss

Betty Grof v Shamir v John Gaius

Dr Herville Schtein v Olivia Dunham v Roboute Guilliman

Sidney Crosby v Veronica Mars v Rodney McKay

Margaret Houlihan v Taissa Turner

Megatron v Angel Dust v William Afton

Padme Amidala v Giovanni v Phil Lester

Grian v Henry Spencer v Oscar Piastri

Jiz v G1 Michigan v Sonya Blade

Nyen (Catman) v Evangelyne v Susannah Dean

Every Female Warrior Cat v Elphaba v Jonathan Sims

Every Woman in Once Upon A Time v Ada Wong

Mary Winchester v Pomni v Quinn Hughes

Patrick Stump v Toph v Stanley Pines

Group 4:

Anya v Brody Fox

Zoey v Glendale v Nia Jax

Armin Arlet v Lucy Mcconky v Dutch Van Der Linde

Sakusa Kiyoomi v Ging Freecs v Jean Grey

Paige Duplass v Avery Morgan

Swaine v Glorian Shieldheart v All the Women in Village of the Damned

Miss Piggy v Vash the Stampede v Fulgrim

Leia Organa v Viktor v Joe Mama

Dean Winchester v Cersei Lannister v Walter White

Essek Thelyss v Shauna Shipman v Pure Vanilla Cookie

Mel Medarda v Kazuhira Miller v Moira McTaggert

Lizardstripe v Charles Xavier v Rouge the Bat

Yellowfang v Sherlock Holmes v Terri Schuster

Eleanor Kempen v Sada/Turo v Sherlock Holmes Patriot

Crow Mauler v Lila Pitts v Stede Bonnet

Bill Cipher v Plankton v Bill Clinton

[soovermyself]

I am not okay 😭😍

[ask-daria-morgendorffer]

LUTUALVERSE WRAP-UP: After the Dance

@askoverlordvox can't sue me for this because this interaction technically doesn't even exist. Looks like The Powers That Be got bored and decided to load more busywork onto me (again) which is why I've been tasked with delivering the all-encompassing Lutualverse Wrap-Up. Come join me on this recap of sad gays and what they're doing on your dashboard. 'Tis the season for Flashbacks, because we have backstories in spades. @ask-sera has been taking @ask-emily-em-emmy on a traumatic trip through Heaven which totally doesn't foreshadow anything going on in the current timeline.

And we can't forget about the love-at-first-bite saga between @exorcist-ava and @exorcist-canine, something that all started when a young, smoke-free Ava rearranges Canine's nose with her teeth for tormenting @seraphim-adina, and then continued when they met again later and vandalized some property in the name of romance and artistic expression. This hectic little love story continues with some second date pole-dancing and ends with Canine accepting Ava's aromanticism by breaking up with her. Young love. Never works out.

@your-favorite-therapist has been busy in the past with helping our resident cousin of the cobra chicken @seraphim-sarai find her mentor and with helping Ava, still (mostly) smoke-free, embrace her inner New Yorker, bringing Ava one step closer to the bushy-browed street rat we all know and (somehow) love.

Another blast from the past to keep an eye on is the first meeting between @sinner-peyton and @ask-sadie-morgan during their living years. Peyton before her character development era? Gee, we all know how that will end.

And now in the current timeline, we have @the-cozy-shark opening for business after a conversation between @zestialmorde and @helluvahotelfan. And because this is a Lutualverse event, we can't have peace for five minutes.

Like any sane person, @ask-kori decides to kidnap and torture Ava, all while Canine and Sarai get kidnapped by the newly appointed Goetia @prince-pruflas as they try to get to the Envy Ring. On that note, I should probably mention that @ask-king-paimon decided to remember that @official-stolas was his son just so he could disown him after the whole trial ordeal. @your-favorite-spyho died but got better, and ends up returning to Hell to commit an act of public indecency with Adina after she comes to take him back. @sinner-obie is hard at work turning Peyton into a decent person through the power of love and sweatpants. On the NRWE-verse side of things, @joyer-is-joy has been hard work trying to build a harem from canon and non-canon entities alike. Why? Hell if I know. I just work here. So that's it for today's fascinating wrap-up. @ask-jane-lane, if you're reading this...

-🤓

[antaxzantax]

[First Edition] Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 28:  A House on the Prairie

AO3

FIRST EDITION — DISCLAIMER

The chapters are edited in random order. The content of the edited chapters is modified, resulting in inconsistencies with the unedited chapters.

Summary:

June 1978. Oswell E. Spencer receives the Ashfords at his country house in Essex, England.

Christina's World by Andrew Wyeth, 1948.

English spirit

A solitary cumulus of cirrus clouds cast a shadow over their evening stroll through the lush grove. They walked along an irregular path of moldy cobblestones, among clusters of exotic flowers, outlined bushes and ancient oaks, holm oaks, elms and chestnut trees. Oswell E. Spencer, recently returned from Luxembourg, had invited Alexander, and his children, to spend the evening at the estate to discuss some important matters. The estate, Spencer State, was the Spencer family’s ancestral home, a country house that the twins Alfred and Alexia, who were visiting for the first time, found very similar to Ashford Hall. However, although both residences were built in the Victorian style, Spencer State lacked the personality of Ashford Hall. Spencer State was spartan, with hardly any ornamentation. In contrast, Ashford Hall lavished the visitor with a symphony of statues, reliefs, arches, pillars and gargoyles of classical and Gothic inspiration, which left no doubt as to the owner’s tastes. Alfred did not understand the reason for this contrast, so, once they were received by Oswell and his staff at the main entrance, he asked:

“Why ...” he asked as they crossed the sumptuous hall, “why is the front not decorated?” he addressed Oswell. Oswell took a couple of steps back to stand beside him.

“For the representation of the English spirit, young man. My grandfather, Jeremiah Peyton Spencer, served as Governor of India and in compensation for his invaluable service to the country, he was rewarded with the earldom that I have inherited. As a demonstration of his loyalty to the Crown, my grandfather erected this mansion as the most faithful representation of the English spirit: austere, severe, pragmatic, imperturbable, rational; that is what this house is. Why do you ask, son? Has it caught your attention?”

Alfred nodded.

“My house is different,” said the boy.

“Northern taste, I suppose,” he joked. “Or palatial taste, prince.” He smiled at him knowingly. He quickened his pace to close the gap with Alexander. “Did you hear the boy? Because now I’m left wondering too. Is it a Catholic preference?”

Alexander had listened to their exchange and clarified:

“A mixture. Ashford Hall is inspired by Italian palatial architecture and Catholic cathedral architecture. Our ancestors, Charlie’s children*, lived in Italy before returning to Scotland. Veronica built the house in his memory, and because she wanted a building that stood out from the rest.”

“Interesting,” said Oswell.

The adults had tea and biscuits before tackling the important matters. The children made do with homemade blueberry muffins and milk, which they devoured very slowly. The adults entertained themselves with colored paper. The children entertained themselves admiring the deer heads hanging on the walls. But, because the adults were too busy with their piles of papers, the twins decided to ask Theodore, the butler, if they could explore another part of the house. Theodore, with Oswell’s permission, instructed Patrick, Theodore’s son and the butler’s first assistant, to open the double door of the guest lounge on the first floor, where they were, so that they could go straight down the hall to the first right turn, where the chapel was.

The children, followed by Patrick, followed the directions. Patrick pointed to a double oak door:

“The chapel, masters.” He made way for them.

Alfred let out a disappointed snort. The chapel was in the same style as the house: austere, devoid of decoration and with a wooden cross on a pedestal in the center. Once again, Ashford Hall won: the house chapel had a gigantic golden altarpiece, profusely decorated with jewels, artifacts, saints, paintings and other Catholic icons. For Alfred, that was the archetypal chapel. This thing seemed tacky to him.

Alexia sat down on the first pew, looking at the cross. Alfred sat down next to her, on the far right, by the aisle. Patrick watched them from the doorway.

“The English spirit,” Alfred muttered in English, disappointed.

“The English spirit,” Alexia repeated, “is a fairy tale.” Alfred listened to Alexia. “A fairy tale that adults make up to feel good about themselves. Adults are like big children,” she smoothed the wool skirt printed with the blue and black tartan of the Douglas clan, “they believe in their own fairy tales.”

“Like the English spirit.”

“Like believing in God. Do you believe in God, bràthair*?”

“Masters,” Patrick called. “Lord Spencer wants you to return to the hall as soon as possible.”

Alfred and Alexia got up. After the eternal tea, and a couple of cigars smoked by Oswell, their host offered to take them for a walk around the estate. Unlike during the welcome at the Spencer residence, Alfred and Alexia led the procession, with Alexander and Oswell some distance behind. From what Alfred could overhear, the two had engaged in a soporific debate about the upcoming elections.

“I see Thatcher as the most capable of the capable. The most ideal of the whole clique of ragged weasels that infects the Conservative Party. Losing to Labor for almost a decade! What will be next?! Mao Zedong becoming Queen?!” exclaimed Oswell.

“There will be a change of government. There is talk of the Labor Party’s decline due to its incompetence in managing the Seventy-Three crisis*. The workers and the middle class want the country to get back on track, as it was before, a promise that Labor has not kept. Ours want to bring down the government to end nationalizations and the criminal inheritance tax,” argued Alexander. “Labor will finally fall because of its success.”

“That’s where Margaret comes in. Do you know who Friedman is? He’s part of Thatcher’s inner circle. They call themselves New Liberals. Their approach to a 21st-century economy is just what Umbrella needs to really take off.”

“Liberalization?”

“I’ve done the math. If we outsourced the factories to China, Umbrella’s profits would double. We’d end every fiscal year in growth.”

“It could be.”

“Thatcher must win.”

Mortally bored, Alfred pulled Alexia’s hand. They slipped off the path, heading nowhere. They crashed their small bodies into a bush, which cracked from the impact, and then they trotted in a straight line until they came across a wide-trunked oak tree, far from the eye of their guardians. They huddled in a large hollow between the protruding roots, with Alexia’s head on her brother’s shoulder and he face down. Alfred’s tweed jacket and shorts were stained with mud and leaf litter that had accumulated among the roots. Alexia’s tweed jacket was also stained, and her skirt had become frayed, probably from the collision with the bush. Supported as they were, she pulled on a thread hanging from the bottom edge of the skirt.

Ban-Ban

"…Ban-Ban is a complete jerk." Oswell lit a cigarette from a metal packet he was carrying in his brown cotton jacket.

“He called me a faggot and attacked me about school. He made up a story that I abused the new kids,” Alexander said in a low voice, distracted by the activity of the few insects swarming around the flowers, his hands in the pockets of his blue tweed trousers.

“Impossible.” Oswell took a puff. “I don’t believe for a second that you’re a bad person,” he quipped. “Besides, who hasn’t abused someone in those schools? Why did you just beat them up, is that it? Wasn’t there anything else?” He narrowed his eyebrows with a sibilant pout.

Alexander cleared his throat, but did not reply.

“A macho man as macho as you abusing the youngest kids in the barnyard like that? Please,” he smiled sarcastically.

Alexander stopped dead in his tracks, forcing Oswell to stop against his will.

“I want to kill that asshole,” he said.

“Ignore him,” Oswell instructed. “He’s a piece of shit. I advise you: next time you come to fuck my cousin, use the service back door. I’m sure my brother-in-law caught you, that’s why he was so pissed off.”

Alexander, head down and sour expression, resumed walking.

“Okay,” he conceded with frustration.

“Let’s do each other a favor: you fuck Morgana in peace and Ban-Ban doesn’t come to heat my head. In peace?” He stopped and held out his hand to Alexander, who shook it, but Oswell caught his by surprise to say: “A little bird told me that Morgana had her first orgasm with you, is that true?” Oswell’s surgically aligned teeth shone through his hyperbolic smile. Alexander smoothed his hair with his free hand, responding with a satisfied half-smile and narrow eyelids, blushing. “She tells me that your cock is as long as a pole, and that she feels your pelvic thrusts like a tunnel boring its way through Everest. Pam, Pam, Pam!” Oswell imitated the coital movement. “And that your repertoire is wider than missionary. I was stunned. Is that true?” Alexander nodded shyly. “How big when it is erect?”

“Eighteen.”

“Jesus...” Oswell swallowed the remaining tobacco in one sitting, taken aback. He was left with the cigarette filter between his fingers. “I don’t believe you.”

Alexander subtly grabbed the bulge in his trousers with one hand.

“Take it out.”

Ignoring the indecent invitation, Oswell got rid of the filter, storing it in a compartment of the packet. Disturbed, and aware that he would lose by too great a margin, he took a quick look around to get the image out of his head of a cock with a blonde wig, its glans protruding above his trousers like an Amazonian anaconda. As he took in the surroundings, he felt that something was missing. It could be...

“Sasha.” Sasha adjusted his trousers. “Where are your children?”

Lucifer

Alfred nodded, dead tired. Alexia lay on his left shoulder. The birds jumped from branch to branch, singing to each other and to the children, keeping them awake.

“Do you believe in God?” Alexia repeated the question.

“Yes,” he nodded, yawning. “Grandma says we’re a miracle. God performs miracles, so God exists,” he replied, shaking the mud off his knees.

Alfred thought he heard a voice in the distance.

“God isn’t the only one who performs miracles,” Alexia objected.

“Who else?”

Alexia looked him in the eye from her uncomfortable position on his shoulder.

“Lucifer.”

“The devil?! Why would you say that?!” Alfred was shocked.

“I am a miracle of Lucifer.” Alexia squeezed herself into her place, hugging her legs. “Or am I not?”

Lost

“Alfred?! Alexia?!” Alexander bellowed.

“The best contraceptive is dealing with other people’s children!” Oswell smoothed out his jacket, already wrinkled from fighting every bush, tree, flower and stone that came his way.

“Alexia?!... Alfred?!”

They entered the forest where they thought the children might have slipped away, to the left. Oswell consulted the time on his gold watch with encrusted diamonds. Thirty-seven minutes until dinner.

Alexander advanced at a military pace, distancing himself from Oswell, the latter content to cover the rear. Unable to control himself, he punched off the lower branch of an oak tree, cutting the knuckles of his right hand. A trickle of blood flowed from the open wound. Twilight was settling over the estate, unleashing the shadows and, behind them, darkness.

“Alexia?!” he shouted.

“Dad?”

A small voice replied from somewhere. Alexander turned around to find out where it came from. A blond head appeared from the bushes on his right.

“Alexia? Are you there?” He walked towards the spot.

The blond head doubled up and emerged from the bushes, first Alexia and then Alfred, disheveled and dirty. Alexander sank to one knee, deeply relieved. Alexia approached him to say:

“We heard your screams.” Unmoved. Alfred rinsed his eyes with his hands.

“You scared me to death,” he said in Scottish Gaelic. “You know very well that you mustn’t disappear without telling me.” He hardened his voice. Alfred put his hands behind his back and bowed his head to feign regret, a gesture that did nothing to appease his father. “What have I told you about the danger of wandering around on your own? About what could happen to you if no one is looking out for you?” Alexander raised his voice. Alfred saw that Oswell was waiting for them in the distance, smoking a cigarette. “Alfred!” He focused his attention on his father. “What did I tell you?”

“It’s dangerous,” Alexia replied in the same language.

“Insufficient. What else?” Alexander ordered.

“Your hand is bleeding,” said Alfred.

Alexander’s face reflected disappointment. Alexia was clutching her skirt.

“Do you want to get killed?” he continued.

“But...” Alfred complained.

“Enough!” Alexander ordered his son to be quiet with a dry and imposing voice. “Children who wander alone expose themselves to being killed, kidnapped and raped. Is that what you want for yourselves?!” He stood up as tall as he was, puffing out his muscles so that they stood out through the fabric. Alfred began to whine. Alexia held her own expressionless.

Alfred’s tears fell to the floor. Alexander lowered his shoulders and, standing, embraced both children. He caressed their hair tenderly.

“I don’t want you to get hurt, understand?” He continued to caress their heads. Alfred swallowed his tears. “I don’t want to lose sight of you.” Alexia nodded under Alexander’s arm. Alfred wiped away his tears. “I’m sorry I shouted at you. I was very scared.”

Alexander separated himself from their bodies.

“Give me your hand. We’re going back to the house.”

Alfred and Alexia obeyed, each holding one of his hands.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you...” Alexander thought out loud.

Oswell was waiting for them, smoking.

Dinner

Oswell relegated the care of the twins to the housekeeper, Olga Radu. Olga, an aging Romanian with a strong accent, took charge of washing them for dinner. In a bathroom on the first floor, equipped with a ceramic bathtub with gold edges, Olga cleaned them with the same delicacy as a washing machine spinning at full power, combed their hair as if raking through a potato patch and dressed them in a clean change of tweed as if they were rag dolls. Alexia complained about the slap she received. Alfred, still dejected from the earlier scolding, wondered what would happen if Olga accidentally hit herself in the mirror. Ready for dinner, the housekeeper kicked them out of the bathroom. In the corridor, their father was waiting for them, leaning against the wall, serious but calm, with a band-aid on his knuckles. His anger had passed. Alfred was no longer dejected.

“Thank you, you may leave.”

The housekeeper bowed to Alexander before leaving. The three of them were alone in the hallway.

“Dinner time,” he announced, and patted them on the head as if to indicate that they should be the first to move.

Oswell received them in the main dining room of Spencer State, which rivaled that of Ashford Hall in sumptuousness: Caraza marble floors, paintings from private collections, classical statues, a colorful Renaissance fireplace in the background, tables and chairs from the French court and gargantuan handcrafted crockery more than a hundred years old on an elongated rectangular table. Oswell chose to sit with Alfred on one side, and with Alexander and Alexia on the opposite side, in confidence. Theodore and Patrick waited in a corner with the trolley, ready to proceed with the English-style service. Oswell raised a hand to signal the start of dinner.

The starter consisted of a soup of onion, mushrooms and aged cheese that was not a hit with the children, but was enjoyed by the adults, who washed it down with white wine. During the starter, the adults chatted about mutual friends, about Oswell’s artistic acquisitions and about how much Alexander disliked a type of Umbrella that the twins were not familiar with. Alfred and Alexia exchanged mocking faces, holding back their laughter. After the soup, Theodore and Patrick replaced their plates with a dish of Atlantic langoustine matured in duck fat and beetroot. A main course that was not a hit with the children either, but it went down well with the adults. Alexander and Oswell went for the second glass of wine, intending to drink a few more.

“I’d like to discuss something with you briefly, before the wine goes up faster than inflation during the gold standard,” suggested Oswell as he gutted the langoustine. Unfortunately, Alfred’s langoustine came gutted.

“What is it?”

“Jamie.” Alexander frowned. Oswell laughed. “You never liked that old cowboy, clansman?” Alexander tore the head off the crayfish using the knife and fork. “He’s staying in Raccoon, doing what he loves.” Alexander shrugged. “I’ve hired two of his students for Arklay. Albert and William, I think their names are. A couple of teenagers.” Alexia listened attentively. Alfred was struggling with the crayfish tongs.

“Age?”

“Eighteen, sixteen, approximately. I must call Tony.” Alexia stirred the remains of the crayfish with her fork. “Minors are always problematic.” Alexander nodded very slightly; his eyes fixed on his plate. “Here comes dessert!”

Theodore and Patrick served Alexander, Alfred and Oswell a simple chocolate mousse with berries, and Alexia a lemon mousse with mango syrup. After mentioning Jamie, James Marcus, a man the twins only knew by name and who was from Texas, Patrick helped them to get up from the table and led them to the bedroom. Alexander kissed them on the forehead before leaving with Oswell to continue drinking and chatting.

A house on the prairie

Patrick guided the pair of twins to their bedroom on the second floor. On the way, and behind the back of the butler’s first assistant, Alfred and Alexia ventured to touch some of the Chinese ceramic vases that decorated the surface of the sideboards placed in the labyrinthine corridors. In a slip of the tongue, Alexia almost knocked over a silver candelabrum with three lit candles, which she immediately replaced. Alfred covered his mouth so that Patrick would not hear his accomplice chuckle. After the near incident with the candelabra, they entertained themselves by looking through the windows, still with the baroque Venetian curtains drawn, but they could only glimpse an impenetrable moonless night. Alexia, disappointed, said that the moon made people go lunatic. Alfred joked, sticking out his tongue and making the stereotypical crazy fingers gesture.

“Masters,” Patrick urged them from the end of the corridor.

The twins met up with the butler’s assistant, bowing their heads. The three continued walking at the same height, although this time Patrick’s eyes were glued to their respective necks. The remaining stretch between the window and the bedroom assigned to the twins was covered in just a few seconds. To the twins’ absolute dismay, Olga Radu was waiting for them at the door of the room, looking as if she were relishing their suffering. Alfred and Alexia cheered up and held hands. Patrick said goodbye with a nod of the head, thus handing over custody of the children to the housekeeper. She smiled sardonically, about unleashing her bad temper on the pair of unprotected minors. In any case, the twins would counterattack by accusing the master of the house of any slight negligence on her part.

Olga took a huge bundle of keys from the pocket of her old-fashioned dress. She managed to choose the right key first time and slid the door open with humiliating slowness. The twins entered in silence as the housekeeper held the door open for them. The bedroom disgusted them with its insignificance. Like the rest of the house, it was not without exquisite ornamentation, and a pile of probably unpublished paintings saturating the wall, but its size paled in comparison with their father’s stately room. Oswell showed the family the bedroom that had belonged to his parents and which he had now given to Alexander to spend the night in, this being the most spacious and majestic guest bedroom in the mansion. On the contrary, not only did they find that room tiny and bleak, but Oswell hadn’t even bothered to show it to them during the brief tour of the residence. Alfred slumped dejectedly. Alexia approached the only double bed in the room, on which they had placed the quadrangular suitcase that the twins shared. The room was even smaller than their single rooms at Ashford Hall.

Alexia opened the heavy leather suitcase without waiting for Olga, still standing in the doorway, to help them unpack it. Alfred approached his sister and sat down on the edge of the soft mattress, covered by silky bed linen. Alexia pulled on a garment and took off her pajamas, a T-shirt, and animal-print pants. Olga remained unperturbed, like a mummy, but Alfred knew that deep down she was laughing at them. Pajamas in hand, Alexia went to the adjoining bathroom and locked the door. Alfred was left alone with the Romanian.

The Romanian woman looked at him like someone waiting for a circus monkey to perform a trick. It made him uncomfortable. He began to feel nervous. Olga did not move, petrified in place like the pinnacle of a cathedral. To avoid her unpleasant presence, he took refuge in the suitcase, searching for his pajamas among the belongings. He touched a piece of cotton and pulled it to reveal the T-shirt and pajama pants with a spaceship print. There was no way he would change in front of her, so he sat on the other side of the bed and waited. Olga approached the bed, without saying or doing anything else. Luckily, Alexia did not take long, reappearing dressed in her animal pajamas. Alfred ran so fast to the bathroom that he caught his jacket pocket on the doorknob. He pulled it on and hastily took it out, praying that the housekeeper had not been paying attention.

He put his pajamas on top of the sink, after checking that Alexia had thrown her clothes on an empty shelf and her shoes with socks in the empty space underneath. He hated Olga. He looked at himself in the mirror. He looked good. He liked himself. He smoothed his hair a little more. He took off his jacket, his shirt and his sleeveless undershirt. He smoothed his hair a little more. He threw the top along with his pants onto the shelf, and the shoes along with the socks into the space below, on top of Alexia’s. All the clothes fell to the floor. He put on his spaceship pajamas, presumably inspired by the Apollo program. Self-confident, although disgusted by Olga, he left the bathroom noticing that he had forgotten to lock the door and neither of them had brushed their teeth, but they would use the latter as a weapon against the housekeeper.

Olga followed Alfred to collect the clothes and put them away. Alexia had got into bed, taking the right-hand side as they came out of the bathroom, so Alfred had to take the opposite side. Olga came back from the bathroom and closed the door. While Alfred got into bed, the Romanian woman tidied up their clothes. Then she put their suitcase in the wardrobe. The effort caused her face to wrinkle grotesquely, to Alfred’s delight. When she had finished, the housekeeper bowed, wished them a formal good night, turned off the lights and closed the door.

Silence.

Alfred turned on the lamp on his bedside table. Alexia submerged herself inside the sheets. He turned off the lamp. He turned on the lamp. Turned it off. Turned it on. Turned it on. Turned it off. Turneditonturneditoffturneditonturneditoff. He turned it on. Apart from the double mahogany bed without a canopy (without a canopy!), the very simple wardrobe without a dressing room, the two very small bedside tables and the very ordinary chest of drawers, the bedroom did not stand out for anything other than the army of paintings that invaded the four walls. The canvases depicted colorful impressionist landscapes, or so it seemed to him, from the stippled outlines of the shapes. Boring. He inspected them again before going to bed. That one.

He got out of bed and ran to the chest of drawers, where the painting hung below three other more colorful pieces. He climbed on top of the bathroom chair to take it down. Then he returned the chair to its place so that nobody would notice and got into bed, holding the treasure with both hands. Leaning against the headboard, he examined the work.

A dazzling desert of fine sand, white as ivory, merged with the cerulean horizon of a warm morning. A solitary black figure walked along the crest of the dune to nowhere, followed by a row of footprints imprinted on the ground. At first, he associated the landscape with the vague stories he had heard about Stanley Ashford’s travels around the world, especially to the deserts of Arabia. In one of the halls of Ashford Hall there was a photograph of him posing with Arab laborers and camels in the middle of the desert. On the back of the photograph, taken in 1911, was the inscription ‘In search of Irem, the city of pillars’. He did not know what Irem was or why his great-great-grandfather was so far away and surrounded by so many strange people because Alexander refused to tell him the truth until he was at least an adult. He sulked the last time, but it did not work. A disappointment. Speaking of backs, Alfred removed the frame from the small painting to look behind the canvas: Stendall, 1903.

“Boo.”

He covered the anodyne signature with the frame lid. He contemplated the scene more closely. He observed the somber profile of the figure. He had a feeling. A surreptitious chill ran through his body like a stampede of horses. Suddenly, he felt devastated, as if he himself were that figure, in the middle of nowhere; being nobody. The loneliness of the figure, of himself, demoralized him, even more so when that desert seemed nuclear to him. Television recreation of a large-scale nuclear war portrayed the cities of the future as radioactive dust deserts. That scared him. It made him feel powerless and deeply distressed. Alexander, who knew some very strange people connected with this matter, assured them that the chances of a nuclear war were minimal to nil; to ignore the sensationalist reports and news they were putting out on television. He said: we fight major wars in third countries as the lesser of two evils. Alfred was not completely convinced, but he could not think of anything to say to contradict his father either. He had to make do, unable to deal with that damned feeling of anguish? Alexia called it angst, and she also felt it sometimes, although for different reasons. What was her angst? Did adults feel it too? She did not know. For some reason, their father never talked to them about his feelings, appearing evasive most of the time, as if he were hiding something from them that he would not reveal until they were older. Their grandmother, on the other hand, always seemed to be in a good mood by his side.

“Angst,” he murmured in a Dutch accent.

But naming it amplified his unease. As if exorcising a demon, Alfred hid the painting under his pillow. He turned off the light and closed his eyes. He wanted to forget, unsuccessfully. The desert returned to him like the call of the wild. Suddenly, a second vision crept in through the back door of his brain. A woman in the middle of a leaden meadow stretched out a starving arm towards a lonely house. They saw it at the MOMA, when the museum’s president invited them and the Campbells to the opening of a collection.

That was the first time he felt angst. He identified with the troubled character as if it were himself. Why? At that moment, he asked Alexia:

“She is defenseless. Alone. Like us.”

Those words distressed him. Alone. That was why, because they were alone? His relatives told them to always stay together for safety. He understood the background to the warning, he was not a stupid child, however, there was something else; something more disturbing, regurgitating at the bottom of the abyss. Loneliness, not for protection, but for existence. Without Alexia: he would be nothing, no one; a traveler in the desert; a pathetic woman who crawled into the void of a ramshackle abandoned house. And he hated it. He hated thinking about it because it made him feel terrible, with a knot in his stomach, with the dizzying sensation that his tiny dream world was breaking into a million irreparable pieces. By chance, Alfred came into the world with someone who gave a name to his thoughts, who made him feel good and accompanied during the monotonous passing of the days, facsimile moments of a constrained lifestyle devoid of excitement beyond double lives and occasional nonsense.

He hugged his sister from behind, asleep for some time. He would endure walking through the desert, crawling through a meadow, if she was with him.

GLOSSARY

Bràthair, brother in Scottish Gaelic.

Charlie, Prince Charles Edward Stuart (1720-1788).

Seventy-three, 1973 oil crisis.