#because i abandoned everything to prepare for spanish.

[weirdlizard26]

well well well if it isnt the exam i didnt study for

[atpsnty]

┊𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

xavier thorpe ; wednesday

pairing: xavier thorpe x hispanic!normie!fem!reader

warnings: light swearing, overpowered fluff, dramatic teens 

request: pt.2 to the small encounters (can be read as standalone, though there are a few references to pt.1)

summary: you’ve leveled up from the accidental run-ins with Xavier

a/n: due to the reader being hispanic, there are a few character descriptions to get that across: mention of hispanic food & a bit of spanish dialogue.

character credit: wednesday series

w/c: 2k

For a little while longer, you stare out the window. People watching has always been one of your favorite activities, so you can’t help but analyze the passerby as they make their way across the various Pilgrim World attractions.

You sip your hot chocolate as you do so, your thumb unknowingly running across the numbers that the no longer mystery boy has written along the cup sleeve. You have yet to enter the digits into your phone, signifying the act of adding Xavier into your contact list. You have never seen someone act so bold, yet alone someone you can’t seem to keep your eyes off of.

Does he wanna be friends?

Is he interested in you?

Are you interested in him?

For the next hour or so you interchange these actions: gazing outside, doing a bit of homework, and trying your fucking best not to stare at Xavier as he dances around your table, wiping off other surfaces and interacting with the flow of Weathervane customers. You peek at him a few – too many – times, taking in the newfound persona that comes with your long awaited introductions.

Introductions…

“Cielos, ni siquiera le dije mi nombre,” you sigh quietly to yourself, “who taught me how to interact with people?”

You rest your forehead on the table beside your laptop, contemplating whether or not you should abandon all hope of progressing this new…friendship? You were sure that after Xavier realizes your lack in basic social skills and not-so-cool stature, the boy would probably move on to one of the other hundreds of girls you’re positive are fawning over him back at the academy.

“Is everything alright?”

Once again, the long-haired Nevermore boy has impeccable timing.

“Bell…”

“Hm?” He tilts his head as he eyes you with a questioning gaze.

“A bell,” you sigh and lift your head, “I’m going to buy you one so I have time to mentally prepare myself when you’re around,” you mumble, though loudly enough that he could hear every syllable. Losing the look of defeat etched across your face, you swiftly smile up at the boy towering over your hunched frame.

“Yes, everything is alright Xavier.”

He chuckles softly, acknowledging the fact that you called him by his name for the first time, before lightly shaking his head and walking off.

‘Can we circle back around to the Mother Teresa possibility, because there’s no way’ you think as you cross your arms along the table and drop your head back down with a groan.

–

Once deciding that the probability of you embarrassing yourself once more was higher than the probability of you having a normal evening while in Xavier’s presence, you decide to take a walk around the grounds.

Like you said before, you didn’t really enjoy learning about white heritage and the different flavors of fudge, but you would rather that than ruin whatever you have with Xavier before it even starts.

You visit a few of the Pilgrim World…attractions? They weren’t really attracting to you per se. After so many years the supposed “community event” is repetitive, and you swear the aura around the whole thing gets gloomier every year. 

While wandering, you see various Nevermore students. Growing up in such a town, you’ve learned the different types of beings that live behind the school’s old walls, and you’ve gotten rather good at guessing who is what; a sort of special edition of your people watching interest.

There are two girls in pilgrim costumes: one with blacked out circular sunglasses balancing on the ridge of her nose, most likely a vampire, and another dark skinned girl with super bright eyes, who’s so alluring that you’re positive she’s a siren. You see a girl and boy together through the window of the town antique shop. The lumpy beanie covering the guy’s head makes it pretty obvious he’s a gorgon, but the girl doesn’t seem to give off any of the major power/creature stereotypes. You sit and ponder it for a minute, glancing at her colorful hair and bright nails, before taking the loss and continuing on. 

You’re walking past the old pillories when you spot the same dark-haired girl from earlier, noticing that she’s wearing the black-clothed pilgrim get-up.

‘It oddly compliments her,’ you think as you watch her wipe down the shirt of a nerdy looking boy. She doesn’t look like the type to do the whole “helping hand” thing, so it’s quite intriguing to say the least.

You find out from one of your classmates who’s working that the jobs are divided into two separate shifts, one of them ending in about thirty minutes. You chat for a bit before making your way back to the cafe.

‘I definitely should not be doing this.’

–

You’ve been sitting on a bench outside of Weathervane, wondering whether you should actually go inside or just stay out here.

What you wanted to do was ask Xavier to walk around after his shift. This seemed like the perfect place to hang out for the first time: entertainment, food, things to talk about, and other people.

Heavy on other people. The more people around, the less likely you were to embarrass yourself…again…for like the fifth time.

‘If I go inside, I’ll probably end up blabbering about why I left, just to come back not even 2 hours later. If I stay outside, he’ll probably think I’m a creep who’s been peeping through the windows.’

Decisions, decisions.

‘Or option 3, I get up right now and pretend I was never here…yeah imma go with that one.’ You grab your bag and small pouch of fudge that you purchased – you said you didn’t like learning about it, not that it wasn’t delicious – and walk right past the door just as it opens.

“Funny seeing you here.”

You stop in your tracks, scrunching your face in a “the world hates me” type of manner before turning around.

“Oh yeah. I was just in the neighborhood. Small town, you know?” You shift back and forth on your feet as you come face to face with your outcast acquaintance for the first time, both of you standing at your full heights. “Gosh, you’re tall.”

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckles before nudging towards your bag of fudge, “I see you went exploring…find anything interesting?”

“Nope, pretty much the same as every year. Dead white guys, how dead white guys used to treat people slightly differently than them, and fudge that could probably give a small village their needed sugar intake,” you say and jostle the bag, “though I will admit my tia’s flan could do just about the same.” 

He laughs, and all you could think about is how good of an alarm it would be.

‘Totally creepy Y/N, knock it off.’

You catch sight of the girl with the colorful hair just behind Xavier, and once again wonder what her whole ordeal is.

“Hey, so totally random,” you start and point your finger in the girl’s general direction, “you know people from your school right? Do you think you could tell me what her power is? The girl who looks like she’d eat cotton candy for its nutritional value.”

He turns around, glimpsing at the girl.

“That’s Enid. She’s a werewolf I believe. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, I was just guessing everyone’s abilities while walking around earlier and could not guess hers for the life of me.” You announce dramatically before smiling, noticing he’s smirking right back at you.

“Guessing abilities huh? Okay then, let’s see what you’ve got.” He makes a sweeping gesture towards the crowd mixed with normies and outcasts.

“Okay bet.”

–

After that, the flow of conversation becomes easy. 

You start off with the ability guessing game, before making your way onto various topics ranging from the pilgrim world exhibits to a storytime about how you once got detention for eating flan in class.

“It wasn’t my fault! If anything, it was my teacher’s fault for making the class stay back 10 minutes from lunch because someone else was talking,” you exasperate, “I wouldn’t have had to eat it in class if I was given my allotted meal time.”

It seems as though the entire time, Xavier is staring at you. I mean yeah you’re having a conversation, and that would be proper etiquette, but still. He wasn’t just looking at you because you guys were talking, but he was actually attentive; taking in what you’re saying and staying engaged.

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned this flan. I might just have to try it one day.”

You smile up at him, feeling your face heat up at the simple fact that he has been listening to you this whole time. With how much you guys were talking, you hardly noticed how long you’ve been walking around.

“Do you wanna sit down for a bit? I think we’ve learned about every dead white guy who’s ever lived here,” he smiles softly and raises his eyebrows towards the same bench you were panicking on not too long ago.

‘Ay, it’s like he can read my mind. Literally what is happening right now.’

You take your previous seat, and he follows, sitting beside you. You glance around Pilgrim World, the crowds starting to dissipate as the day passes.

“You never guessed what my ability was,” Xavier says, looking straight ahead.

“I’m not really sure to be honest. I don’t think you transform into anything, and I’m sure you can’t read minds,” and you thank Jesus for that. “I’m thinking more of a physical ability. Maybe something creative? You have this whole…lone wolf artsy guy type of vibe going on,” you say and gesture towards him.

He’s silent for a moment. 

‘Oh shit did I say something wrong?’

“It’s so easy to tell when you're internally panicking,” he drops his head with a chuckle before looking back at you, “you’re right though.”

“That wasn’t funny Xavier.” You push him with your shoulder and giggle a bit.

He raises his hands in a surrendering gesture before continuing.

“My bad, it’s just funny to see you all riled up and flustered.”

“Funny…” you say and side-eye him.

“Adorable, actually.”

Your face heats up.

“Anyways…so you’re into art? I remember seeing you at the store a few weeks ago and it looked like you were buying art supplies.”

“Surprised you could tell. You know, with you hiding behind your computer and everything.”

You give him a straight stare.

He lightly puffs out air before continuing with a grin, “I dabble in art a bit. I can sorta make my drawings move a bit? Like an animation sort of. It’s hard to explain.”

“You should show me sometime,” you say with no hesitation or regret. Hey, there’s a first time for everything.

He gives you a small nod and a “oh yeah, for sure” before glancing to the side. All the Nevermore students are starting to get together to leave back to campus.

You both stand and start taking slow steps towards the group. Xavier stops when you’re still a few feet away from everyone else and faces you.

“Text me, yeah? I wanna have your number so we can keep talking without having to randomly run into each other.”

You nod and wave him off, your cheeks left hurting from smiling for hours. You grab your phone from your back pocket, along with the cup sleeve that has the phone number written across it. You punch in the number, create a contact, and type a small message.

Sent

–

Xavier’s POV 

I’m sitting in the back of the bus; glancing out the window as we drive past the town buildings, heading towards the forestry marking our descent to the academy. It’s only been a few minutes since I’ve left Pilgrim World when my phone vibrates in my lap: a message from an unknown number.

‘You know what sounds fantastic right now…flan - Y/N’

I chuckle quietly to myself, adding Y/N to my contacts before looking back out the window with a content sigh.

This is so much worse then the first one (I cannot do dialogue oml)...also I take it back I’m not gonna do a taglist bcs I realized how tiring it is to keep track of those once they get longer (but I tagged the few who asked already). 

If I end up making a part 3, it will include the confession!

I no longer support Percy Hynes White and will no longer take request for Xavier Thorpe.

taglist (not open,, will be deleting)

@betray-jaes @moatsnow @godess-of-mist @l4venderia @gengen64 @rayliz793 @honey-with-tea​ 

[pinkrangerv]

More Tarrick headcanons please! You see my “he’s a pathetic wet cat” vision

So like. I just wrote an entire basically fic about the Tragedy. Because he is Tragic.

But 90% of my thoughts are like this:

He built his wife a healing tank. He achieved more with less than anyone could be expected to. He survived being kidnapped and he was alone...

Except he went into town. And he hung out with a group of day laborers, because he had to make money for food.

They taught him Spanish. They taught him that you don't cry for the dead--your tears weigh them down while they walk to the gates of Heaven. They taught him a thousand random jobs, and it's a great change from medicine, he's a medic but burying the bodies of aliens and humans alike when Area 62 fell, the desperate attempt to put Santura in cryostasis before brain damage set in...

Medicine seems second best to just working with your hands now.

And then he discovered the Sporags.

Tarrick couldn't go back at that point. Miguel and the others, they'd know. So he abandoned them. He abandoned everyone.

Mucus and Slyther didn't count. Mucus was a failed Sporag--she had no aggression, just annoying stupidity. Slyther was just a warrior, anyway.

No point in caring.

And then Santura woke, and everything went wrong. And then he discovered that the death and horror that changed everything--

It wasn't complete. Amelia lived. The janitor lived.

He got someone back.

Tarrick showed up at Amelia's workplace, the day after the dust settled. Santura got shanghaid by the medic about ten minutes after the Rafkonians found them, and she was still being healed (the machine Tarrick built didn't heal enough of the brain damage; Santura was still severely impaired, it was why she was aggressive and had mood swings).

And then suddenly there's Miguel, and the day laborers, helping Pop-Pop with the landscaping, and Miguel looks up and sees Tarrick.

And they know.

And Tarrick suddenly realizes exactly how screwed he is--

Miguel grabs him in a hug. And he tells him, Gracias, Dios, you didn't get killed!

Tarrick realizes someone is laughing at him at this point.

Gringo, didn't we tell you not to do stupid shit? One of the others demands. And what do you do but go play with alien weapons--

Tarrick's not totally sure how he gets through that conversation. He's fully prepared for Earth to hate him. But he's kind of getting the feeling they aren't?

This is your daughter? Miguel asks, gesturing at Amelia. Good! You've got a good girl here! She takes care of her abuelo, she always says nice things to us, she's a good kid.

She saved my life, Tarrick says honestly.

Tarrick could have passed for human before. When Rafkonians go public, though, he ends up one of the faces of it.

Sometimes. Other times he ignores it and goes to work with Miguel again. Because he needs to work with his hands.

He and Santura aren't fighting. They're staying with Pop-Pop and Amelia. And they're doing okay.

Just, you know, not talking much.

Finally Pop-Pop tells Tarrick, you know, you should just go make love to your wife. It's a good deed, you need to try and reconnect.

And then Tarrick learns a week later that Santura is pregnant.

He kind of figures out that SOMEONE has it out for him at this point.

It turns out that healing is a lot like this. People aren't always happy about him, but sometimes they forgive. And sometimes it doesn't seem to matter, all the knots he tied himself into to become Void Knight. And honestly, half the time he suspects someone is laughing.

By the time Mucus and Slyther come back, he's not even surprised. And by the time they defeat Zedd, he doesn't even protest when Santura remarks that hey, Tarrick never introduced Amelia to her younger sister...

Poppy is a blessing. And Tarrick is still not sure how he ended up with his wife, his daughters, a Jewish grandfather, and a Sporag daughter.

But he'll put up with the laughing for it.

[josefavomjaaga]

Letter from Joseph to Napoleon, August 1810

Please bear with me, this will be lots of text again, but this letter sums up Joseph’s position and his view on the Spanish quagmire pretty well.

For context: The first quarter of 1810 had been a triumphal success for Joseph. Led/guided/accompanied (depending on who you ask) by his new chief of staff Soult French troops under Joseph’s personal orders had marched into Andalusia, trashed whatever little resistance they found, and the province, minus Cadiz, had fallen into his lap like a ripe fruit. The Andalusians had not only welcomed but celebrated him. On 30 April, however, Joseph wrote to Soult that he wanted to go back to Madrid, leaving Soult in charge of all the army corps of Andalusia. (And of whatever else there was to do, because who else would do the job?)

In the meantime, bad things were preparing for Joseph in Paris: Napoleon had just decided to create several military governments under direct administration of the commanding generals and marshals. Originally this concerned only the provinces in the north of Spain, but when Napoleon learned that Soult was factually already governing Andalusia, he more or less extended the new system to Andalusia as well. (He basically told Soult that he was officially still under Joseph’s command but should be the one in charge and making the decisions. No, I do not understand how this should have worked either.)

By August, Joseph started to suspect that Andalusia had been taken away from him, too. And that’s when he wrote his brother the following missive:

Joseph to Napoleon, Madrid, 8 August 1810

Sire, my position in this country, always difficult, often deplorable, is such today that it cannot continue any longer, if the measures already taken and those I am yet threatened with are carried out.

I will see to it that the reply I await from Your Majesty finds me in Madrid; but I beg Him not to make me wait for long, for things are stronger than men; and the day when I am completely abandoned by my guard, by my service, by everything which constitutes a government, I will have no other option than to go to France at Your Majesty's disposal, asking Him to deem it proper for me to be reunited with my family from which I have been separated for six years, and that I regain, in domestic oblivion, the sympathies and calm that the throne has caused me to lose, without having given me anything in return, since it is only a place of torment for me, from which I passively contemplate the devastation of a country I had hoped to make happy. Today I cannot even find a refuge in the army as I did last year. In fighting the enemies of Your Majesty and of Spain, my eyes were distracted from the spectacle which afflicts me today, and at least my position was compatible with honor. If all that is rumoured by the officers who arrive from Paris, made probable by the letter of the Prince of Neufchatel of the 14th of July, is verified; if Your Majesty takes away from me the command of the army of Andalusia, and exclusively assigns the revenues of these provinces to the army, I have no other course to take than to quit the game; and this decision has been so much enforced that it cannot even be imputed to me.

Dissecting Joseph’s long sentences: In how far it had been Joseph who had fought “the enemies of Your Majesty and of Spain”, and in how far it had been the generals and marshals under his command (Jourdan and Soult, mostly) is at least debatable. But technically, Joseph had been in command, and he had been with the army, that much is correct. And as to those rumours being verified: As stated above, yes, they were true, and the administration of Andalusia was to be given to Soult. Did Joseph go through with his threat to “quit the game” in this case? Of course not.

In the present state of affairs in Spain, the general in chief in command of a province is its king. All the resources of the province can never suffice, because what is called the requirements are not determined, and this general increases the requirements in proportion to the resources he anticipates; from which it follows that all the provinces commanded by generals who are not under my orders are null and void for me. It is Andalusia alone where I can hope to find some resources, after having assigned to the army what has been judged sufficient, if Your Majesty continues to send 2 millions per month: […]

Just to clarify what Joseph is talking about here: according to Soult's memoirs, Napoleon paid, for all French soldiers in Spain, two million francs per month, part of which was destined for Soult's Armée du Midi, but by no means always reached them. To that sum, Joseph added "what has been judged sufficient", according to Soult ~530,000 francs, falling short by half of what was really due. Continuing with Joseph’s endless sentence:

[...] but to give the command of the troops to a general who does not recognise my authority is to give him the administration and the government; it is to take away from me the only province where I could hope to live; it is to reduce me to that of Madrid, which yields 800,000 francs a month, while my most indispensable expenses amount to 4 million francs a month. I am surrounded here by the debris of a great nation; I have a guard, the depots of the army hospitals, a garrison, a household, a ministry, a council of state, refugees from all the provinces, etc. This state of affairs, Sire, cannot last two months, when honour and a sense of what is due to me could make me bear this humiliating position.

“A sense of what is due to me.” Yes, I will believe that you have a very good sense of that, Joey. 😁 It is also interesting that Joseph apparently needed more money for the (mostly useless, because functionless) “debris of a great nation” than Soult for the army of the Midi. As to the situation “not lasting two months” - it would last two more years, and Joseph would still stay in Spain.

For, after all, what will I be if the army of Andalusia is taken from me? The caretaker of the hospitals of Madrid, of the army depots, the guardian of the prisoners? Sire, I am your brother; you have presented me to Spain as a second you. I feel the exaggeration of this praise in terms of my talents; but I will never be inferior to you in the truth of my character, in the nobility of my feelings, in my tender affection for my brother.

In 1808, Napoleon actually really had told Spanish authorities after the double abdication of Carlos and Ferdinand that in Joseph he was giving Spain “un autre moi-même” (another me). Which, considering how different the two brothers were in character, temperament and political opinions, was at least a daring statement.

I have always hoped that Your Majesty would come to Spain; I have endured everything in this expectation; but today this hope is receding and circumstances are pressing: I am forced to take the step I am taking.

Oh my goodness! Now it's getting exciting! Is Joseph really going to do it? What step is he about to take?

I am sending Your Majesty Monsieur d'Almenara, who has held the portfolio of finance since the death of Monsieur de Cabarrus, and who knows both the deplorable details of this department and the other ministries well enough for Your Majesty to be able to take a decision with full knowledge of the facts.

Oh. O well, I guess yes, that is also a step one can take.

As for me, Sire, who owes you my opinion in full, and who gives it to you following the unshakeable determination that I have expressed above, I think that: 1° if the French army is put under my orders; 2° if I have the right to dismiss the officers who would obviously behave badly; 3° if I am authorised to reassure the nation about the changes of government and the dismemberments which all those who arrive from Paris threaten; 4° if Your Majesty has in me the confidence which is due to me, by allowing me to say and write to the Spaniards what I believe to be appropriate to their situation and to mine, without giving credence to the poisonous interpretations of malice and argumentative mediocrity, I promise : l° that the French army will not cost France a penny beyond the 2 millions which Your Majesty allocates to this service; I even hope that soon Your Majesty will be able to be relieved of this burden, which would be especially necessary to me in the first months; 2° that Spain will soon be pacified, as was the kingdom of Naples; 3° that Spain will soon be as useful to France as it is harmful to her today.

Alright, that’s another long sentence from Joseph, containing four conditions and three promises, and all deserve an extra look:

condition no 1: The army needs to be under Joseph’s orders. Well, putting it bluntly: it would be, in 1812. Which resulted in the battle of Salamanca and the loss of Andalusia.

condition no. 2: Joseph wants to get rid of certain officers. I am unsure if their number, at this point, already included his future favourite boogeyman Soult. I suspect it didn’t. Until now, Joseph already had accused several generals of misbehaviour and embezzlements. DuCasse usually only gives the first letters of their names but one of them clearly was general Kellermann (the son of the marshal). Soult, on the other hand, was explicitly mentioned as “renders us the greatest possible services” in a letter to Napoleon from January 1810. Soult and Joseph actually even shared some ideas about how to proceed in Spain, for example about employing the locals in a police force (and they also shared Napoleon’s displeasure with regards to that measure).

condition no. 3: This probably refers to the (not unfounded) fear that Napoleon would try to annex parts of Spain to France, like he had just done with Holland.

condition no. 4: Joseph wants to be allowed to say and write what he wants. - This is the most interesting part, as much of Napoleon’s indignation was caused by newspaper articles that had been published under Joseph’s watch and that – in Napoleon’s eyes - glorified the Spanish insurgents or insulted the French army, and by certain statements and orders of the day from Joseph (at one point, he had published the real number of troops the French had in Spain, and he was known to publicly critisize the French in order to endear himself to his Spanish subjects). As to the “mediocrity” who was trying to see something bad in such a mere political move, I wonder whom Joseph means with that. (The expression “mediocre” makes me think of Eugène but I am unaware of Eugène even being in the know of what was going on in Spain.)

As to the promises, those are easier to understand. I guess the most polite way to comment is to say that Joseph was seeing the situation in Spain in quite a rosy way. I also do no think that it could really be compared to that of Naples, and I guess we could argue as to who contributed more to the conquest and pacification of the Kingdom of Naples, Masséna or Joseph.

If, on the contrary, I am forced to withdraw, if the provinces are divided into military governments and governed by generals, I fear that Your Majesty will not see the end of this terrible upheaval.

A prophecy that, of course, came very true. The point in question is: would there really have been a different outcome if Joseph had had his way?

I beg Your Majesty to see in this letter and in its smallest expressions only what I wanted to put in it, the pure truth, dictated above all by the brotherly friendship which has attached me to you from the cradle, and which will accompany me to the grave, whatever happens. - The emotion I feel at this moment and which suspends the end of this letter would thus be caused by personal egoism, by cowardly regrets! No, Sire, I do not think so; I weep over the miseries of human nature, over the dispersion of a family once so united, over the change that has taken place in my brother's heart, over the gradual weakening of an immense glory, which must be eternalized by the memories of generous and heroic sentiments rather than by immense power. Sire, if this last part of my letter does not remind you of the tender and worthy friend of your childhood, if it does not tell you that I am for you what no man on earth is, it only remains for me to withdraw.

This is Joseph defending himself against the accusation (that he apparently considered possible) of only writing this because he wanted a) more money and b) more power from Napoleon. What he writes about the family situation is, sadly, only too true. By mid-1810, Napoleon had managed to alienate each and every one of his brothers: Lucien and Louis had run, Joseph was suffering in Spain, whereas Jérôme served as Napoleon’s punching bag whenever His Imperial Majesty needed somebody to critisize. As for the relatives by marriage, Napoleon had divorced Josephine, disinherited both Eugène and Hortense’s son, and seemed determined to make Murat’s life in Naples hell.

P. S. In the two days since I wrote this letter, my position in Madrid has become even more critical, and I intend to go to Andalusia; I will probably already be there when Your Majesty receives this letter.

I’m not sure if Joseph here refers to his financial situation becoming even more critical, or the military one. As to the latter, according to Soult’s memoirs whenever there was a rumour about insurgents/highwaymen showing up somewhere in the region of Madrid, these rumours were greatly exaggerated,so Joseph could keep more troops under his immediate command »for reasons of security«. The second journey to Andalusia he hints at in the postscript of course never took place, mostly because Soult did everything in his power to avert it, writing to Berthier that he really had no use for Joseph showing up with all his Spanish ministers and administrators and treasurers and royal household in tow, as this would inevitably lead to conflicts with the military administration he had just set up, and deprive the army coffers of valuable sums.

Also interesting of course that this letter was sitting on Joseph’s desk for two days unfinished.

[glemmeboka]

2023 language goals

I'm updating my languages for 2023 - I'm mainly focusing on improving my Korean and French and learning as much as possible. Plus: one new language

Korean

I want to take the first TOPIK exam this coming year, so I will have to prepare myself for it. I got a huge book on Korean grammar for Christmas and my plan is to learn all the contents. I will also find myself a teacher though, because I honestly feel like I won't get as far as I'd like to the way I'm self-studying right now.

French

Obviously I want to keep up my As in school, but honestly I don't think I have to be very careful because it's usually not a problem. Instead I will try to be ahead of my class at least a little bit so I can fully focus on Latin while in school (which is more of a problem lol)

For non-school studying I have set a goal to read at least one full book, it's probably going to be Harry Potter or Le Petit Prince. I also want to immerse myself more, meaning watch more movies or shows in French (I still haven't seen Lupin), maybe have more French conversations with my mother. Also, I am likely going on an exchange to Orléans in early 2023 (my exchange partner is coming in January or February already. If anything works out, that is. There might still be complications) Generally, I hope to achieve a proficiency of about B1. I won't take a test because that feels like too much trouble (and money, I think), but just...generally that area of proficiency.

Other than that, I have also made changes in my plans for my exchange year which is supposed to happen in 2024/25. As there are only few organisations which have Korea in their programme - and those who do are too hard to afford - I have decided to go for Thailand. I hope it will work out, for real, if I end up staying in Germany the entire year I will likely cry every day because missed opportunites and what not. Anyway, these news are the reason I have decided to pick up some Thai basics, at least. I mean, I take what I can get but I wanna keep the bar low and not expect too much of myself for a change. These are my 2023 goals for Thai:

Thai

First of all, I obviously need to learn the alphabet which...might even take me the entire year. xd For real though, I will focus on that first and then try to find a good textbook which can kind of guide me through it all. Because this language seems so complicated, I don't even know where to start

There's some nice shows to watch for immersion though..

gae:)

please don't stop reading I swear I will stick to the topic now

As for my other languages - Norwegian and Spanish - I will be maintaining those. I have Spanish in school so I will be putting about 2 to 3 hours per week into it anyway. To maintain Norwegian, I will TRY being more active on Duolingo again (because let's be for real, the Norwegian course is actually quite effective and it has given me so much let's take a second to appreciate that) and perhaps even do some more units of my textbook which I have, I admit, been abandoning for quite a while now. Norwegian in general, which is sad because it was my first language love :( Well, I got a week calender with pictures of Norway for Christmas, maybe that will serve as a motivation boost. Like for French, I also want to read at least one Norwegian book to the end in 2023. I have one in mind that the Norwegian teacher at the university gave me when I had my one-day internship there

Wow. I hope I will be able to achieve these goals by the end of the year. I seriously have no idea if it's too much or little because this is the first time I've EVER done something like "good resolutions for the coming year" or whatever it is called. But I recently saw a quote.

Aim for the moon. If you miss, you may hit a star. — Clement Stone

Not only does it sound very nice because of the connection to astronomy and space, it also reassures me that sometimes it's okay not being able to do everything or one thing just as well as the other. Small progress is also good progress, especially when it is aquired in a constant pace.

And with that, I'm wishing everyone who happens to be reading this a happy new year and good luck with your goals! You're doing great.

Fun fact: In Germany, we wish each other "einen guten Rutsch ins neue Jahr" at the end of the year. It literally translates to "a good slide into the new year". Honestly, I think it's a bit funny. I hope you have one though. :)

[bbondgrl]

8 miles y’all know the movie, and the state Detroit Michigan. On one side of the mile the hood can be a dangerous place to live. Police don’t even in some of the neighborhoods. You see a lot of big houses that are abandoned and boarded up but there's some people that live there. And one guy they were interviewing in that neighborhood sadthey all watch each other’s backs and They don’t really sell drugs. But who knows? The thing is they are in a big house and with the crime the way it is around there everything is cheap including the rent or a mortgage. Look, it seems like crime in the neighborhood keeps rent down. Any kind of crime, vandalism, people that break in new cars, gun shots etc. with that going on in your neighborhood perhaps your rent will not increase dramatically. But you see now… if you want to be able to walk your dog in the morning around the block and you wanna jog and exercise around the block in your neighborhood. You better be prepared to kick out about 4bans or better. An example is where I live now. When I first moved over here they used to break into cars and they broke in the mailbox. Little that we knew but dat kinda crime kept rent down. Yes, the rent was cheap. Well it’s a different price now. All over Miami.

Look at Goulds Fl. the cops cleaned up that area in that neighborhood now Cubans are moving in. In Perrine Fl. On homestead Avenue, Cubans are walking the streets proud as can be and no one better not fuck with them.

Listen, in the 80s in the 90s not one white or Spanish person would even think about rolling through Goulds or Perrine. But in order to bring and make room for the Cubans they had to go in our hood and target everyone that looked or did not look like they were doing something illegal. That’s when they came up with jump out Tuesdays and Thursdays and a lot of people went to jail, on the house. Some went to jail just for being in that area or cops would say you tampered with evidence. That's nothing but they’ll take you downtown anyway. And stuff like that went on for decades but that was the goal. To clean up and push people out. To up root Americans from their houses. To make room for the fluctuation of refugees that was coming and still coming to Miami.

Something else happened: the crackheads and snitches were telling the cops about everything in the hood. They were so high just wanting that money from the cops to get another fix and not knowing the outcome of all of that would turn out to be. A lot of people went to jail in this operation called entrapment I think that’s the proper term name for it…lol. The people got hit with jail time or court costs. They put cases on lots of Americans, mostly African Americans. Go back and do the research between those years you will find out that more African-Americans went to jail during that entrapment.

And in the end after locking up all the people for buying weed etc, they finally got to the drug house. I always question why didn’t they just bust the house instead of running behind, car by car by car by car? It was all planned out entrapment. Finally most of the people couldn’t get their life back on track because they must’ve had misdemeanors or felonies charges on your background and most of the people moved to Ga.

In making room for the refugees to live in Miami they missed a lot of people's up.

Then about 5-10 years later the government turned around and the state attorney's office came out with the program to sponge anyone’s background for free, who got caught in that trap because that’s what it was. But by the time they offer that program damages were done to the people. That was a plan well executed by The government. I cannot say that Richmond Heights suffered anything or Carol City. I doubt it. Opa Locka there was a neighborhood there called triangle park. Something like that, it was really bad there but I think they cleaned that up. Not forgetting about the pork n beans project and all the people from over town displaced and moved out. The government; the commissioners in all districts in Miami Dade county did all that just to make some room for their own Kind. Now the Cubans are all over the place and more than just Cubans I got a lot of refugees here. Especially those from Venezuela. It’s all part of a big plan. Know one sees it coming, hell you don’t know it until it’s too late.Now looking back at everything and you see the injustice of it all. Injustice discrimination and humane and I think that Miami Dade county needs to be held calendar bowl for what they have done especially to African-Americans.

You can now put some pieces of the puzzle together and I’m sure there’s a lot that I’ve left out.

Why must we settle for that bullshit? Their plan was about propaganda, politics and all the displaced African-Americans in Miami Dade county. Stealing their low rental Apartments pushing them out just to make room for the refugees.

It’s a shame to say - It’s tragic and unfortunate but unnecessary evil comes into play. To upset the establishment in these communities. It's gonna balance everything out. The people from Venezuela and the refugees from other places don’t give a damn about Americans. Miami Dade county want to become a Third World country. And for all the refugees that are in Miami don’t even think that this would become a Third World country. Miami is a City in the United States of America. And the United States of America is not a goddamn Third World country not even a piece of this land. Never!

[ferusaurelius]

Izzy Hands in a Minor Key

In this essay I will ... add to excellent discussion about the companion structures and themes of Episodes 07 and 08.

First, this is inspired by @bookshelfdreams and @mikimeiko and dedicated to @speckled-jim (and a few other folks, you know who you are, who also like to scream about Izzy the Ratbastard).

As background, please consider this post (Mikimeiko) about Edward and Stede’s fear of losing each other and then follow up with this post (bookshelfdreams) about the themes of loss and abandonment in Episode 07 and 08. This is an excellent addition about Calico Jack’s role in the narrative and between the two of them you will be well-prepared to consider the following:

I will submit to all of you that Izzy Hands and his terrible life choices are the glue holding these companion episodes together, because Izzy planned this situation and he used his deeply personal knowledge and understanding of Edward to instigate the breakup.

The full arc of these episodes is about loss, abandonment ... and betrayal.

Izzy Hands is once again making everything awful and Making It Weird Forever (thanks @knowlesian). Ready to suffer? :D

Proceed past the cut.

Full Disclosure: This is the top-level summary or I’d be here all night. 

-

07 - This is Happening

A brief summary of the situation between Ed and Stede: they are still deciding whether or not to accept each other and what that means during the treasure hunt. We get the lovely improvisational restaurant conversation, Edward does his ‘please touch my beard’ flirting thing, and then -- oh no! The map burns and is ruined!

Lucius helpfully clues in Ed to the fact that Stede has set up this very Stede-directed adventure for him. Edward has heart eyes 100% of the time because this is probably the nicest thing anyone has ever tried to do (while being a lovable pure idiot about it). God, Stede is the most cinnamon of rolls. And Edward makes an effort to be sweet in return (Lucius reinforces this; it’s so fucking brilliant that Edward still threatens to stab him in the ‘fuckin face).

Did you notice that it’s an Izzy-style threat? A bit softer and gentler, but still with admirable cursing and pitch-perfect comedic timing.

Which brings us to Izzy.

Izzy is conspicuous by his absence. Where would Edward go if Edward left? Back to Izzy and the ‘next adventure!’ And it wouldn’t much look like this very impractical treasure hunt with a petrified orange as the prize.

If we compare the prizes Izzy recently took: one of Stede’s hostages, a Spanish warship, and The Revenge, itself. All very respectable (except Stede; Izzy put him back!)

Izzy, after trying to ‘put Stede back’ post-duel scene: None of this is going how I planned. I hate my entire life and my best friend just banished me from the ship. What is a first mate going to do without a captain to serve?

“This is Happening” is where we see Edward and Stede begin to recognize their relationship while Izzy experiences the full-on terror of his identity being stripped away. Read: loss and abandonment. Izzy is experiencing both of these in the background, and it’s this terror of losing Edward and of contemplating a future without that relationship that prompts him to FUCKING CALL UP CHAUNCEY FUCKING BADMINTON.

Izzy. What the fuck.

08 - We Gull Way Back

Now for a quick linguistic aside on the episode title that you need to understand before we proceed further. “We Gull Way Back” is directly referencing three things:

1. “We Go Way Back” = Calico Jack is Edward’s old friend, buddy, and ex-lover.

2. “Gull” = the Death of Karl and Buttons’s fabulous ability to hex Calico Jack. It’s a weird reverse ex(orcism). Yes this is a pun. Shoot me.

3. “Gull” = an archaic term for “to trick, to subvert, or to fool.” This last theme is where Izzy Hands comes in and it’s a direct title reference to his role in this episode and in setting up the entire circumstances of this arc without being present on-screen. Because David Jenkins is brilliant.

-

You may be wondering: Ferus, if Izzy doesn’t show up in this episode, what are you going to analyze?

Ready to be fucked up? Because this has been fucking me up all day. Brace yourselves. Recall all the previously cited meta about Calico Jack and the role he plays in questioning Stede’s identity and making Edward think Stede couldn’t handle the old days?

Izzy knew:

All of Edward’s history

What Edward’s reaction would be to seeing this old friend and ex-lover

What Calico Jack would think of Stede

What old hobbies Jack and Blackbeard used to share

The story of Blind Man’s Cove, that Jack once saved his life there, and that it had no escape routes

That neither Stede nor the rest of the crew would suspect this trap (because none of them know Edward and their history as Blackbeard as well as he does)

That this trap was calibrated specifically and personally to trick Edward into being the one who took Stede to a place where the English could catch and execute him

It’s fucking me up so bad, fam. 

It’s not just a betrayal, it’s probably one of the most intimately personal and subtle betrayals I’ve seen depicted on screen.

What the FUCK, Izzy. No shit Edward was right to punch you right in your fucking face!

And it’s the first time we really see Edward lose his temper with Izzy, by the way. Foreshadowing the descent into The Kraken we get in Episode 10.

Izzy set up the whole fucking thing and he’s paying the price.

-

Additional Disclaimer: If you’d like very specific dialogue and scene examples of how all of the above is working, my ask box is always open for screaming about Izzy Hands. My word is not definitive in any way, shape, or form. If you also like to scream about Izzy Hands please know that I am very friendly and open to being challenged, contradicted, dismantled, or otherwise appropriated with or without credit and/or reference. I love OFMD a totally normal amount. 

[absolutepokemontrash]

The Brothers and Side Characters Go on a Road Trip!

So, Diavolo, Lord of the Devildom, wants to go on a road trip for reasons unknown. You know what? Screw it, the reason is because Dia wants to do a fun human thing because MC brought it up during tea time. No one can defy the king, so TIME FOR A ROAD TRIP!

Shut Up! HE DOESN’T NEED DIRECTIONS! (Lucifer)

He was going to turn that car around. That’s it, he was going to leave. Someone else drive.

I hope your MC likes staticky traffic updates because that’s what Lucifer constantly had on the radio.

Obviously, some of the brothers complained, so Lucifer put on Beethoven’s Symphony no. 9. HELL YEAH TURN IT UP DJ!

Lol JK no one can car-dance to classical music. Just go back to the staticky traffic updates…

Lucifer would have preferred it if MC or Barbatos were riding shotgun next to him, but Diavolo ended up getting it. Dia is constantly asking Lucifer to stop so he can take pictures of the most mundane shit.

Lucifer stopped stopping after the first fifteen requests.

“I’m not stopping at McDonalds- hang on. Hi McDonald’s employee, one black coffee please.”

In true father fashion, Lucifer got lost and REFUSED to ask for directions. They were lost for five hours before Diavolo finally asked:

“Lucifer, you can turn on the GPS right?”

“Yes, but I don’t trust it.”

Everyone screamed in frustration and were all fully prepared to abandon Lucifer at the side of the road.

Please… can someone else drive? Anyone else…

Are We There Yeeeet..? (Mammon)

Okay, so, Mammon was one of two ways on that road trip. One: complete ADHD daydream zoned out. Or type Two: AAAAAAAAAARRRRRRREEEEE WEEEEEEEE THEEEEEEEEERRRRRREEEE YEEEEEEET???!

He wanted to stop and go to all the tourist traps, by the end of the road trip Mammon wanted to open his own.

The Avatar of Greed loves driving, problem is, he’s used to driving off into the sunset as a lone bachelor, not with his friends and brothers in the car as well.

He only got to drive once, and it was awful. 0/10 would not recommend. Luke thought MC was driving and called shotgun…

Mammon just turns on the radio for music and hopes something good is on at least ONE channel.

STOP WEAVING BETWEEN LANES YOU MORON-

Not all of Mammon’s time driving was bad, the combined powers of Luke and Mammon meant that everyone stopped at a petting zoo at the side of the road. Everyone had a good time, even though when they got back into the car they all smelled like a farm.

Did anyone else hear that oinking in the car-

*Vibes to Music in the Backseat* (Levi)

After being cruelly dragged from his room and placed in this stupid van… he just climbed into the backseat and put on his headphones.

Maybe anime openings could drown out this problem…

Levi only drove for fifteen minutes, it was the most terrifying fifteen minutes of everyone’s lives.

Mario Kart is not a substitute for proper driving school!

Listen- Levi actually saved the entire trip, after stopping at a gas station everyone noticed that Levi never complained about what was on the radio because he was wearing headphones, so everyone bought their own pair and the car trip was so much more pleasant…

No matter how many times Lucifer told Levi to get his feet off the seat, he wouldn’t listen, he was GAMING and they took him away from his gaming chair! HE NEEDED TO SCRUNCH HIMSELF UP LIKE A GOBLIN TO FOCUS DAMMIT!

Whenever the car would stop so everyone could get out and take a picture or look at something, Levi had to be practically dragged out of the car and manually posed for the pictures.

“Is this one of those vans with TVs in them? I brought the first five volumes of TSL on DVD!”

While Satan was driving they stopped at a lake, and Levi burst out of the car and made friends with all the lake fish.

He was still soaking wet when they had to leave.

I’m a Responsible Driver- IS THAT AN OLD BOOKSTORE?! (Satan)

Satan, we believed in you…

Our favourite nerd wanted to stop at any and all historical spots or cool looking bookstores he saw.

When everyone went to buy headphones, he got a pair with cat-ears on them! Because obviously!

Satan’s a responsible driver, and he’s not as prone to road rage as one might think. He has patience, remember in the Jobs event when he worked in customer service? Those kinds of jobs take a godlike amount of self control to do.

Asmo called shotgun and Satan got to have the wonderful experience of having his ear chatted off by his dear brother.

Satan was not about to have fast food for the eighth time in four days, if everyone wanted food, he’d stop at a restaurant.

He was terribly sorry to anyone who needed to use the restroom, but they should have gone at the last rest stop.

When Satan stopped at the lake, he gave everyone a long lecture on the historical significance of the place, then noticed that Levi was being crowned king of the lake and decided he should cut his history lesson short before Levi abandoned his family to chill with the fish forever.

I wanted Satan to be the normal chill one with the radio… I really did… but deep in my subconscious I feel like Satan would put on one of those language learning DVDs so he can learn another language on the go like a total dork.

Road Rage (Asmodeus)

No one saw this coming but- Asmo gets some B A D road rage. Someone cuts him off? “Hi hello dear, WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SHOVE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS?!” Someone doesn’t use a turn signal? “YOU BRAIN DEAD MORON! LEARN TO DRIVE!” Someone just pisses him off? “*prolonged horn sound*”

It’s just… the car trip was so taxing on the poor Avatar of Lust… he was crammed into the middle seat for the majority of the trip… he had to give his sleeping mask to Belphie… Beel was getting crumbs all over him and he couldn’t move over… just so tragic…

Solomon called shotgun and it was the greatest couple of hours of his life. He got a front row seat to Lucifer and Barbatos dragging Asmo back into the car because he tried to pick a fight with another driver.

Asmo wasn’t having a good time…

He didn’t want to stop for any gas station food or go through a drive-thru so it was another expensive restaurant trip. Rest In Peace to the gang’s wallets.

When he wasn’t driving, Asmo was loudly talking with MC or talking on the phone. It was a blessing in disguise when they went through an area with bad phone reception and Asmo finally had to shut up.

Oh well… at least he got a few nice pictures for Devilgram.

MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! (Beel)

We all know Beel is massive, right? His head is touching the ceiling and every speed-bump hurt.

He’s the one begging to stop at every gas station or fast food place they pass by.

Beel’s section in the car was covered in empty bags of Doritos by the end of the trip.

When Beel got to drive, Belphie got shotgun! Hell yeah dream team!

Poor Beel, he got distracted and ended up somehow popping a tire. He pulled over next to a farm, changed the tire, then got back in the car and kept driving.

Uh… there was an awful lack of snoring next to Beel- OH FUCK THEY LEFT BELPHIE!

Belphie was found sleeping next to the cows on the farm they had stopped at earlier.

The cows didn’t want to give their sleepy god up so easily…

After that… Beel didn’t want to drive anymore…

“Look, cows.” (Belphie)

I really need to stop with the cow jokes but I CAN’T

*snore*

Belphie’s crammed between Beel and MC for most of the trip and is probably drooling all over poor MC’s lap or shoulder.

Beware, he jolts up randomly and looks around in a panic before he realizes he’s in a car. This happens every three hours.

Belphie’s not allowed to drive, he’d fall asleep. But when Lucifer takes the wheel and puts on that fucking staticky radio, Belphie forms an idea.

“*ahem* four thousand bottles of beer on the wall, four thousand bottles of beer,”

Mission success, Lucifer wanted to tear his hair out.

Belphie ended up asking to stop when they get to a stretch of road with no streetlights, everyone got out of the and stared at the stars.

…listen, it’s a miracle no one got axe murdered but the stars were gorgeous.

Remember when I said Satan put on those language learning DVDs? Yeah uh…. Belphie woke up from his last nap of the trip almost fully fluent in Spanish. At least one person gained a new skill on this trip…

Oooo, Look at Thaaaaat! (Diavolo)

Even though the side characters were in a different car most of the time, sometimes people would switch to the other car if they met up at a gas station.

By the end of the road trip Dia looked like one of those tourist dads, Hawaiian shirt and all.

Dia can’t drive

He’s absorbing human culture… and human culture involves ordering everything at this random Wendy’s.

Diavolo’s camera roll is so unbelievably full by the end of the trip and he refuses to delete ANY of the pictures.

Most of the pictures are of really weird and boring stuff, like traffic signs and trees, but the picture he ends up printing out and putting in a picture frame is a picture of the whole group at the petting zoo having a grand old time.

He wanted to take home a baby goat but Barbatos said that wasn’t a good idea :(

Help. (Barbatos)

So, it could have been worse for Barbatos, he could have been stuck in the car with the brothers and MC.

Dia always had the seat up front, but when he left the car to go hang out with the dude-squad, Solomon got the passenger seat.

Solomon decided it would be a good idea to pester Barbatos to go faster and take weird shortcuts through (probably not legal) backroads and creepy forest paths.

Good thing Barbatos, Luke, and Simeon had functioning brain cells and knew that’s how horror movies began.

Barbatos stopped for fast food once and only once. It’s not healthy!

He’s the only driver to take suggestions for music, meaning that the side characters’ car was the best one of the two.

“SOMEONE GET THE BARF BAG!”(Simeon)

He’s just… he’s just trying his best not to vomit…

Simeon thought the car would be a good place to get some writing done while they drove down long stretches of road. Simeon was wrong in that assumption.

With his head down way too much while the car zoomed down the highway, Simeon felt himself getting *very* sick about four hours in.

He was worried he may have accidentally eaten something of Solomon’s… but nope. The angel was carsick.

Luke had the important job of patting Simeon on the back as he leaned over the barf-bag while Solomon dry heaved up front.

Hurry and open the windows before Solomon barfs too!!!!

Other than the car sickness, he had the job of making sure Luke was entertained, there was a good hour of eye-spy until they just got to a stretch of forest.

After that, Simeon realized that he could just give Luke free permission to ramble about whatever he wanted and that would keep the little guy entertained for HOURS.

What do You Mean I Can’t Legally Make This Turn?! (Solomon)

Shifty bastard can drive, problem is, he doesn’t care about the laws of the road.

He ended up getting pulled over after breaking approximately 11 traffic laws in less than ten minutes.

“License and registration.” “Yeah yeah yeah…” “…sir, this license expired in 1989.” “…shit.”

Solomon gunned it and managed to use his magic to hide the car and evade the very confused traffic cop.

Luke was completely aghast at the flagrant law breaking, but Solomon’s excuse was that the 80s were a lawless wasteland and he completely forgot he legally had to update his license.

He’s an equally obnoxious passenger as he is driver, but at least no one in the car is bored.

“You know, back in the day cars didn’t have seatbelts.” “Solomon put your seatbelt back on.”

…Can we keep it? (Luke)

He was against this from the start. A road trip? With those nasty demons? No! Never!

Okay fine… maybe he wanted to see some more of the human world… he agreed to go.

After helping Simeon through his car sickness, he misheard the other car say that MC would be driving, and Luke wanted to hang out with his third parent 🥺

That’s how he ended up riding shotgun next to Mammon. It started out rough, but when the two spotted the petting zoo it was all sunshine and rainbows.

Luke made friends with all the animals! He was like a little Disney Prince. He got especially attached to this one piglet, it was a surprise to Simeon that the goodbye wasn’t tearful.

Luke smuggled that piglet out of the petting zoo and they were all over fifty miles away before anyone noticed.

Of course, everyone was just shocked that Luke had stolen something, but he looked so cute holding the little piggy… awwww…

The bros obviously joked that Luke had gone to the dark side and was totally evil because he had taken the pig, much to the poor kid’s dismay.

Simeon tried to convince Luke that he needed to return the piglet but Luke was adamant that he could totally take good care of it.

Welp, time for Lucifer to fix this.

“Luke, you need to go put the pig back, it’s not yours.”

“No! I’ll take good care of it!”

“That doesn’t matter, you stole it. It’s not your property, do you want to end up a scummy thief like Mammon?”

“No not at all. Let’s go return the pig.”

“THAT’S ALL IT TOOK?!”

[aknosde]

Omnes Una Manet Nox

The chronologically first installment of my Reyna Swap AU, Alea Iacta Est // Reyna Avilla Ramírez-Arellano // Fluff & Angst, but minor on the angst // the night before Reyna disappears //  tw: mentions past minor character death // light swearing // 4.4k

ao3

—————

“That went well, didn’t it?” Jason asks with that familiar, absently intense energy. They’ve just descended the steps of the Senate after their monthly meeting with the consuls.

The two consuls, in their late thirties, oversee all of Camp Jupiter. Of course, the legion manages their own grounds and budget, under Jason and Reyna’s command, but the little oversight they do get is from the consuls.

Johnson was one of New Rome’s praetors, a few years back. He doesn’t care much about the legion, being from a legacy family and largely skirting his training and service, and he never ceases to make that known. Malhill is the one that always gets under Jason’s defenses. He’s good on policy, good on veterans, good on kids, everything that they could want. But he was the legion’s champion only ten years ago. A direct son of Apollo, a talented archer but an even better bender of light, a legion praetor, and he’s had his eyes on Jason’s career since day one. Reyna’s seen the way he eyes Jason whenever she and Jason are in New Rome, already pegging him for a consul position once Jason’s old enough.

“It went well, Jace,” she says. “Your mission plan is flawless, the only thing that could make them happier is if you’d go on it.” She regrets the words as soon as they’re out of her mouth.

Her remorse is tangible, visible in the line of his spine, the way he taps the place in his pocket where Ivlivs would sit if they were not inside the Pomerian Line, the subtle flick of his wrist.

Not for the first time, she thinks about Mount Othrys. Everything it took from her. Sometimes when she sleeps–not often, but enough–it plays over in her head. But something is always wrong.

She’s leading the charge, but suddenly it’s Jason next to her instead of Michelle. Or Jason and Michelle run into the throne room, but when she closes the door behind them it locks. She makes it into the throne room, slaying all of the Dracaena, but when she enters Atlas is holding Jason over his head, instead of fighting him hand to hand. On the good nights, Michelle isn’t dead when she bursts through the door, on the bad, she watches Michelle die. The one constant is Jason, gold ichor dripping down his face in a horrific mask. When she and Jason land the killing blow, together, she can always see it.

He doesn’t talk about it, of course. Not about Michelle, not about his election, not about the mountain. But she can see it weighing on him through the big things, like how he hasn’t been out of camp borders since the battle, and the small things, like how he glances up at the stars, as if one will come down and crush him any moment.

She rolls her right shoulder, feeling the ligaments shift, as if it will rid her of the thoughts, prepare her for a topic of conversation that often hits a little too close to home.

“Did you hear how Johnson pronounced my name? He’s even worse than you.” Maybe the small huff of a laugh Jason expels is worth it. “‘Miss Ramírez-Arellano,’” she continues, in a nasally imitation of the consul.

“I don’t say it that badly.”

“You say it like a white boy who didn’t know Spanish was a language until two seconds ago.”

“Ramírez-Arellano,” he says, better than consul Johnson, but she still hates hearing it. That girl is long gone, the only thing connecting her to Reyna is Hylla, and although Reyna loves her sister, she’s grateful for the distance that keeps Hylla from being a constant reminder.

“‘We were– were very, erm, dazzled, by your most recent proposition.’” She continues the impression until they are walking through the Praetorian Gate, Jason half hanging off her shoulder and giggling like they’re thirteen again.

He has a nice laugh. A friendly one. It seems to feed off of her volume, her effort, fluctuating the longer he goes. He shouts at her to stop several times, but he’s doubled over in armor, snorting, and all she wants to do is make him laugh like this forever.

It only gets worse on the steps of the Principa, when he decides a good revenge plan is to trip her. The building is dark like the rest of the legion. Two lamps, invisible under the light of day, flank the double doors, but the light is faint and barely makes its way to the stairs, washing everything in a pale yellow. She side steps his foot–his sneakers have reflective decals on them for the sake of the gods, he’s an idiot–but he’s shifted his weight so much that he ends up tripping himself.

They stumble through the doors, still chuckling, and make their way across the great hall as quickly as possible. They must have gotten a new tender for the Principa, because the lights are off like they forgot that people actually live here. Only two people, but still. The darkness makes the place unsettling, and now she’s counting on Jason to keep her occupied. A job he seems all too willing to fulfill as he runs through the next set of doors, still in full armor, clashing against the wood.

Upstairs is worse, she decides. The abandoned lounge reminds her of her childhood living room. Any moment her father could rise from one of the low couches, ready to scoop her up and throw her in her room, that crazed look in his eye.

Something clangs and she jumps.

“What the heck is this?” Jason’s whisper-shouting when she catches up with him in the hallway outside their rooms. He’s partially on the floor–hands keeping him from being face flat–and something is crinkling under his knee.

For some reason all Reyna can say is: “Did you just say ‘heck?’”

“Shut up,” he whines, and she wishes the lights were on just so she could see his ears turning red.

“Of course, farm-boy.”

He’s sitting back on his heels now, she can see the object’s dark outline as he holds it up, rustling in his hands.

“Seriously, what is this thing?” he asks, looking up at her.

“A bag with my old clothes,” she says, squinting. “I was going to see if any legionnaires need some.”

“And you have it by your door so you don’t forget,” he says, explaining for her. In the stress of running for office, of war, she forgot the ways in which they are attuned to each other. She forgot that she doesn’t have to explain and defend her every little action to him. It’s sad that it’s taken her almost two months to remember.

He sets the bag back down, nudging it into almost its exact spot, and hefts himself to his feet with a sigh. His brow furrows once he’s standing, looking out into the middle distance, but he sees the quirk of her brow and quickly explains himself, “We have that meeting with the centurions tomorrow after breakfast.”

Jason is a social person. A true extrovert. He hates being alone, working alone, and the quiet that comes with both. So what he’s really saying is that he has work left to do and wants some company. And who is she to deny him that? “Do you want to work in the main hall, office, or my room?”

He grins, clapping his hands and then raises his palms to the sky. “Bedroom, praise Fortuna.”

“Five minutes, Sparkplug,” she says, bumping her shoulder into his own as she sidesteps him into her room. His eyes follow her as she goes, like she’s his North Star, and damn him for making her heart skip a beat, because in the empty space Venus’ words always echo. She stomps them down, before her face can fall, before the hollow silence can fill the hallway, and in their place she jams a smirk. “If you’re lucky I’ll even edit your speech.”

As her door clicks behind her she can hear him groan, “I just prayed to Fortuna.”

She stands with her hands on her hips, briefly surveying her room to decide what to do first.

Being praetor has its perks, like private bath and bedrooms across the hall from her best friend and king sized beds, but it also means she is no longer in the practice of keeping her space ready for inspections. Her comforter is pulled up, but her bed isn’t made, files are scattered across her desk and on her dresser, and her wardrobe is wide open.

She decides on doing everything at once, which involves a crooked path across her room as she shucks off armor, not bothering with her armor stand, and changes out of the nice clothes she wore to meet the consuls. All the while she turns on lights, puts on sweats, makes her bed, and tucks away files.

Jason knocks on her door five minutes later, that ever punctual bastard, just as she’s zipping her hoodie over her tank top.

“Help me, Reyna,” he says, holding a typed copy of his speech out to her in both hands like some sort of trophy. “You’re my only hope.”

She snorts, snatching the pages out of his hands. “Nice reference.”

He cocks his head to the side, brow furrowed, and she bets if he were actually a wolf one of his ears would be turned as well.

“You just made a Star Wars reference,” she says, but he looks just as confused.

“What’s Star Wars?” He asks warily.

She swears to herself in Spanish, because otherwise he’ll tease her about the legion’s anti-swearing policies, collapsing dramatically back on her bed, and sighs. “It’s a movie trilogy, wolf boy.”

“Ah.”

Another thing she forgot, apparently, is how little Jason knows about basically anything outside of camp. He says he arrived when he was three, and wasn’t even allowed into the city until he was eight, which apparently means he’s never been to a movie theater.

By now he seems used to her telling him about the more innocent aspects of the mortal world, and at the very least takes his lack of knowledge in stride. If only he would watch the movies and shows she’s downloaded on his laptop for him.

When she looks up after reading his introduction he is sitting at her desk, picking at some invisible blemish while subtly putting highlighters away, and looking around her room.

“If you start cleaning I’m throwing you out.”

He grumbles to himself, but she makes out a yes ma’am somewhere in the mix, so she decides to throw him a bone.

“If you want to occupy yourself I have a speech about legion veterans you can fact check,” she says, faux casual, not that he can tell. He needs to do something before he starts picking at his nails instead of the wood.

“Sure.”

“It’s in one of the red folders.”

“Would that be the one on the floor under your desk or the one on your dresser,” he says, sounding far too cheeky.

“The one on my dresser, and stop pretending you’re better than me, asshole.”

He clutches his chest dramatically, walking to her dresser. “Better than the best? How could I be?”

“Mmmhmm,” she responds, half ignoring him in favor of his speech, aware of the ticking clock.

It’s truly impossible for him to stay awake past ten, a fact that is only proven the next time she looks up and he’s asleep at her desk, pen still in hand and a research paper opened on her laptop. No matter how often she reminds him that the regimented lights out of the legion no longer applies to them, he just can’t seem to break the habit.

“Jason.” She nudges his shoulder, extracting the pen at the same moment so he can’t smudge her speech.

His head jerks, eyes alert, but voice groggy when he says, “What’s going on?” All legionnaires wake up in a similar manner, but for some reason it only strikes her as amusing when he does it.

She hadn’t thought of what she was waking him up for, besides a need to do it, and her mind wanders to the Forum, wondering if her favorite café would still be open at this hour. She’s starving, she realizes. Their meeting with the consuls had been pushed back and they had had to skip dinner to make it.

She grins. “Are you hungry?”

“Uh, yeah. How did you know?”

“Roof s’mores?”

“Reyna,” he drags out the last syllable, fading it into a sigh. “That takes energy.”

“Okay, but–” She holds her hands out, weighing them. “Would you rather spend the energy to just walk across the hall and go to sleep, or climb up to the roof with me and roast us a couple marshmallows?”

Jason looks at her like is that a real question? which had been her intention. She folds her hands into a pleading gesture and pouts emphatically–he’s always more flexible when she acts a little silly. “Please, Jace. I got that cheap chocolate you like. I’ll even get the stuff myself, you can go straight up.”

“Fine.” He rolls his eyes and she smiles, satisfied, and already on her way out the door.

The praetorian kitchen reminds her of office break rooms on television, besides the fact that it looks perpetually unnatural, mostly due to the fact that only three people go inside–her, Jason, and the Principa tender–and it’s always pristine. The only things actually kept in there are coffee, tea, and of course: her and Jason’s secret stash of s’more supplies, buried in the back of the cabinet with the untouched bowls.

By the time she’s through the roof access door, conveniently placed to hide it from the view of anyone on the ground, Jason is already sitting by the dark spot of ash that signifies their pastime. Because, yes, they started coming up here long before either of them were elected Praetor.

He’s a dark outline against the night sky, sitting criss-crossed and looking down at the façades of the other legion buildings, and briefly she has the thought that somebody could make a painting out of this. She slides her old Camp Jupiter ID back between the lock and door jamb, willing the thought to disappear with the potential of the fire alarm going off.

She shivers as she sits next to him, nose wrinkling with the cold now that she’s fully vulnerable to the elements. Without a word Jason removes his sweatshirt and passes it to her.

“I’m already wearing one.”

“Mine is thicker, trade me.”

And because he’s Jason, she does.

It’s slightly big on her, his shoulders just a few inches broader than her own, and a forest green. On the back is a printed vine of purple flowers and a date. She recognizes it as one of the prizes of the Ludi Florae, or Games of Flora, from Floralia last year. The festival sits right between April and May, and last year’s was the grandest of all. Or so Jason says. Everyone had been anxious about Mount Othrys, and apparently all of that energy had been funnelled into the events.

Reyna herself had been busy running for praetor. All she remembers from the festival is campaigning. And Jason, running up to her looking flushed, this sweatshirt thrown over one shoulder.

“Remember when I told you that you were the best, Jace,” she says sweetly once she is safely swaddled in his hoodie. He’s right–it is thicker.

Jason grins up at her, wrapping his hands around two marshmallows. “I may recall something along those lines having been said a long, long time ago.”

“Well, I just want to inform you that I retract that statement, because this sweatshirt is ugly and the cuffs are burnt.”

The electricity that had been slowly coursing over the ridges of his fingers flares for a second, and his hands fly open as if he was handed metal straight from the forges. “Oops.” Both of the marshmallows are burnt, but his lips are turned up in a poorly concealed smirk.

“I forget you’re a heathen,” she says primly, sticking her nose in the air instead of saying any of the less wholesome options at the back of her throat.

“Does liking burnt marshmallows make me a heathen?”

She pretends to mull it over for a second, extracting the rest of their supplies. “Yes. You have to buy the next bag because you’re mean and I say so.”

She takes the burnt marshmallow regardless, sandwiching it between her own chocolate and graham crackers. Jason takes three squares of the Hershey bar he likes for absolutely no good reason, and does the same. She shakes her head. He’s the fucking all American boy who sticks with the classics even when he doesn’t know they’re the classics. She has no idea how he does it.

They don’t talk while they eat, regrettably the silence reminding her of her childhood, no matter how hard she pushes against it. She looks up at the stars, trying to forget the cold kitchen, cold house, even in hundred degree heat. It’s times like this when the ring, and the chain she wears it on, weigh heavy on her neck.

It feels like a noose right now, just as much as it feels like freedom, like power, every other second of her life. Like a sentence, compelling her to pay for her crimes, to confess to them, to wreck her world so terribly that she would lose up from down and die. A fair punishment.

“What are you thinking about,” Jason asks a while after they’ve finished. She looks at him, sitting back on his hands, looking at her, not the sky. It’s dark on the roof, but the light from the street lamps seems to center around him. It glints off his hair, visibly blond even in the night, and pours into his eyes. They’re always so blue. So blue it looks fake. But they never cease to pull Reyna in. Sometimes she swears she can see lightning arc across his irises.

He’s always asking her questions like this. Innocent and curious, no ulterior motives, no goals. He genuinely wants to know. And if she doesn’t answer, he’ll drop it, because he always does. It’s not something she’s used to, even after all these years; this place she has in his mind, if not his heart. A place of utter respect. He doesn’t question her because he knows what she is thinking, and when he doesn’t, he accepts her. Would he still, if he knew what she did to her father?

She breaks his gaze with that thought. It’s too much. “My sister,” she says instead, and it doesn’t feel right to look back. Under oath, Reyna would say that Jason is the most important person in her life. Her best friend; the person she sees every day, talks to every day, eats with and works with. He is the closest thing she has to a family here. And she– And she loves him. Maybe as a little more than a friend. But talking about her sister while looking him in the eye feels too intimate, too intense. “She would like you.”

It is something to say, simply to say something, but maybe she isn’t wrong. There is something in Jason that reminds her of the Queen Anne’s Revenge, and not in the way that haunts her nightmares and twists her sheets around her until they become bonds she can’t quite break free of. Being on Blackbeard’s crew, that’s how Reyna learned hard work, in a way she never had before. It had instilled a drive in her, to change everything, to rewrite systems, to make something so beautiful it was unrecognizable. And perhaps Jason doesn’t have that same drive, but he knows the work. He goes out of his way to do it dirty and hard and long. He refuses to take the thousands of shortcuts he’s offered. And Hylla would admire that, she thinks.

“I had a sister,” he whispers.

For a second–just a second–she’s stuck. “What?”

“I had a sister.” He picks at a loose thread on his jeans for a moment, and that’s how she knows he’s serious, because he hates ripping his jeans more than almost anything else. He’s refusing to meet her gaze. “Thalia Grace.”

He says her name soft and tender. She can imagine him, standing over a hearth, cradling the name between his palms and looking at it the same way he first looked when he was gifted Ivlivs. Big, round eyes.

“That’s really nice, Jace,” she says, because he rarely surprises her, and for once she doesn’t know what to say.

He looks up at her, smiling tightly. His eyes are sad. Is that how she looks when she thinks about Hylla?

“You can tell me about her, if you want,” Reyna says when the moment becomes two, and then three, because Jason doesn’t bring up things he doesn’t want to talk about. But Jason also has his own ideas about debt, about worthiness, and it is clear to her that he told her about his sister in exchange for Reyna talking about her own.

He smiles at her. A real smile, if small. She feels warm, and it’s not from his extra thick sweatshirt.

“I don’t remember a lot about her, but… She had black hair. So dark, like the night. And her eyes, they were amazing. Bright blue, like a perfect sky. Sometimes I can see them, in this half-memory half-dream, and they’re so strong they look like how an electric shock feels.”

“Like yours,” she whispers, and Jason hums in a way that makes it frustratingly unclear if he heard her or not. She hopes not.

“When I was little,” he continues, after another moment of staring wistfully over the Twelfth Legion, “I used to imagine she was looking for me. That one day she would find me, here, be proud of me for– I don’t know what. Love me, or something. All that stupid shit.” He trails off again, picking at his nails, but she can’t bring herself to chide him.

There are things that she knows about Jason, true as the sun rising in the east and the pull of the moon on the tides and the sound of imperial gold on whetstone. She knows that he works hard, works with the public, flushes under the compliments of people older than him because he has never had a concrete parental figure. Not even one to hate, to fear, to mourn. She knows that he never trusts praise from these people because he knows his parentage, knows they know, knows that he is connected to his father in the eyes of these people in a way he doesn’t feel himself, and never will.

Truths of Jason that are pillars in her understanding of him, that were pivotal in their relationship. But like so many supports, they were never acknowledged. Truth has no need to be stated, and she has no compellence to state that which is unnecessary. He talks of Thalia, telling Reyna that he wants his sister to want him, to find him, and to love him not because he is a son of Jupiter, but because he’s him.

She doesn’t say, I don’t care about you because you’re the son of Jupiter, I care about you because you are my best friend. And she doesn’t say, I care about you because you listen to people, because you care about them and what happens to them so instinctively that I cannot understand it. She doesn’t say, I’m proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself.

She doesn’t say those things because he knows them, because they are truths, and truths do not need to be said.

But still, something must be done.

She– She’s always been bad at the physical things. She can do a handshake, a fist bump, but she has never been a hugger, no matter that Jason is. She’s never managed a hip-check, or a shoulder pat, or ruffled his hair in any way that wasn’t rough and meant to hurt.

But that doesn’t mean she can’t try.

She goes slow, leaning over slightly, feels the cool breeze breaking on her knuckles. Gently, perhaps more gently than she has done anything in her life, she takes his hands, detangles them, presses her finger pads against the bleeding bits where he’s torn his skin away. She closes her hands around his own, cups them in her palms.

He looks up at her, tears welled on his water line but nothing has spilled, and she feels his hands move in her own, feels him latch on, like when they were young and late for assignments, running across the grounds and refusing to leave each other behind. She looks into his eyes, wide. Electrifying. Just like she knew they were.

She waits for the moment to stretch and break, like moments oft do. Her last move is to give his hands a squeeze, hopefully reassuring, and he gives her another small smile and moves to wipe his eyes with the sleeves of her sweatshirt, the one he’s still wearing.

“We should probably be going to bed,” she says, because she doesn’t have anything else to say. He laughs, wetly, but in that way everybody laughs when they’re told something they already know. It makes her smile; it’s special when he does it.

Everybody isn’t wrong, she thinks as she and Jason part ways outside their rooms, Jason Grace is special. But not because he is the son of Jupiter. He’s special because Reyna had never wanted friends, and here he is, her best. He’s special because he does things, normal things, and they make her smile. He’s special because he does everything in his power to ensure he deserves the love he receives. And gods, she thinks, does he deserve it.

She slips off her necklace and gets under her duvet cover, curling up and fiddling with the cuffs of his sweatshirt. Chunks of the polyester-wool fabric are hard and melted from undoubtedly unfortunate rendezvous with electricity. She finds one, right where his thumb would rest, and rubs it between her own thumb and index finger as she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she’s on a school bus.

—————

Others in this series: Amicus Certus in re Incerta Cernitur

[procrastinatorproject]

Fic writer review, thank you to @thelaithlyworm  for the tag <3

how many works do you have on AO3?

Ten? Oh no, it’s actualy 12 now!

what’s your total AO3 word count?

86,468

how many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Grand total of 1: Star Trek: Picard - although my latest offering might branch a bit into other Trek as well.

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

“Passengers”

“And a Barrel of Gagh”

“CMO’s Log”

“Preparations”

“Game Night”

Which is actually kinda interesting. I wrote Passengers, Preparations, and Game Night while the fandom was still a lot more active (especially in the Aramis in Space corner), so that makes sense. The CMO’s log has had chapters added every few months, giving it probably the most exposure of any of my fics. Barrel of Gagh, though? I think I’m gonna attribute that to Thimblerig turning it into a truly, TRULY brilliant piece of podfic. Also the fact that it’s whump involving a character played by Santiago Cabrera. ‘tis A Thing..... :D

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I really try to! I love talking with people in the comments and just... thanking the people who found the time and energy to leave comments. But especially in the last few months I have gotten very bad at keeping up with the comments and now there’s about two dozen that I have neglected to reply to for a painfully long time 🙈

But I will get there! Because I love that kind of interaction!

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

So far, none of them have had angsty endings. Angsty middles, yes, but not endings. I’m just a sucker for everyone being happy in the end. Or at least on the way to being better, and supported and cared for on that way.

do you write crossovers? if so what is the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven’t yet, but I’m definitely not opposed. One of the threads of my 200k unpublishable whump scenes takes place in a continuity that has existed in my daydreams for... I wanna say six years at the very least, probably longer. It’s mostly straight-up Star Trek, but with the twist that it involves the Wraith, the telepathic, hive-minded alien race from Stargate: Atlantis that suck the life force out of you with their hands? Or, well, at least a variation thereof.

I once typed up the world building for that particular setting and it took me three hours to try and make it all make sense. So it’s... involved. But not necessarily “crazy”. And I’m not sure I’m ever actually going to publish any of the stories I have set in it (not least because that would envolve finishing any of them and bringing them into a form that is interesting to read for anyone but me...)

have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope.

do you write smut? if so what kind?

Hm, not yet. I do enjoy reading smut, but only under very specific circumstances. I think I may eventually try my hand at smut, but the inner prude is still very strong. Writing about Rios and Xyr making out (which, honestly, was really tame, all things considered) made me melt in a puddle of blushing embarrassment, so full-on smut is probably beyond me at the moment. One day!

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of. Though litigating that in a fandom like ours would be... tricky. ST:Pic is way too small to steal stories outright. But similar or the same ideas pop up all the time. And it’s a complete coincidence. Reading the book that recently came out and that has a kinda similar setting to a lot of my stories (pre-season 1, early in Rios’s history as captain of Sirena, dealing with original characters, holo shenanigans, friendship with Raffi, etc.), I was struck by just how many elements, both scenes or story beats and little details, were similar to things that have cropped up in my writing. And it is entirely coincidental, because I am beyond certain that the author doesn’t read fanfic. Just... for legal reasons. Not to mention I wrote a bunch of the things I saw parallels to while the book was already in production, and some of them are only in my drafts.

So there is a ton of convergent evolution going on in this particular section of the fandom, and trying to litigate who came up with certain plot ideas or character beats when would be a sysiphean disaster. Some things are clear and whenever I use any of them I give credit where I can, but people will have very similar ideas. It just happens. So no, I haven’t had either a full-on story or “an idea” stolen, and I might change my tune if it ever does happen, but so far, I’m trying to practice equanimity, so I’ll be better at it should I ever need it.

have you ever had a fic translated?

Sadly no. My dad keeps complaining that all my fic is in English so he can’t read any of it, but honestly? I’m kinda glad for this very convenient excuse. Maybe if I ever feel like I want to practice my interpreting skills, I will give translating the stories into German a shot. We’ll see. Otherwise, if anyone feels inspired: Have at it! Just let me know, okay?

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not quite. I have a draft of off-the-cuff worldbuilding that I wrote on Discord with @curator-on-ao3 and that I would love to turn into an actual short fic (letters from a conference on holo-ethics), but I haven’t gotten around to it yet.

what’s your all time favorite ship?

I don’t really do shipping.

what’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

I WILL NEVER ACCEPT DEFEAT!!!! One day, I will write the next installment of Star Trek: La Sirena! I have so many ideas for that continuity and those characters. I’m not going to abandon them!

what are your writing strengths?

Hmmmmm. Probably detailed worldbuilding? Ask me something about, say, a technological or cultural aspect of Star Trek and chances are, I have thought about it in the past or will come up with three different sets of intricate lore within half an hour. (Things like... the architecture of San Francisco, or Will there still be taxi drivers? or the treaty between IKEA Intergalactic and the Borg Collective, or the Universal Translator, or Emergency Services or Why There Are Very Few Ambulances On Earth Anymore etceterah etceterah...)

I’m also good at slapping together off-the-cuff plot ideas (if, say, you need an explanation for how Seven and Agnes ended up stranded on a desert island, I could probably give you three different scenarios pretty quickly. Just don’t ask me to make them poignant or actually write them.

I’m also very, very good at beginnings.

what are your writing weaknesses?

Everything that isn’t a beginning. Especially endings, or rather: finishing something, but also just... keeping momentum.

I think my dialogue is somewhat samey and not distinct enough between characters. (Also my witty banter is... let’s just say it doesn’t come to me naturally...)

And I also struggle with keeping things brief and to the point. I can write you 30k of whump covering a span of three hours, but fitting a whole story in the same space? Much more difficult!

I have also avoided writing full-on action so far, but where it has crept in it has always been a struggle and been workshopped a lot with the indefatigable beta.

Otherwise, I don’t know. My self-perception is always a little warped, so I’m not sure what other people would say my weaknesses are.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Oof. Well. I have used Spanish sentences in my fic and done the thing where they’re translated in the end note, but I’ve mostly done it sparingly. I’ve also done the ‘“What do you want?” he said in Spanish.’ It’s tricky. But I will likely keep doing it in some instances, even if it’s a bit annoying.

(It also really helps to have a native speaker of Spanish as a beta, even if it’s Spanish from a different region than you’re character.)

Speaking of regional: I’m also torn about the whole “phonetically writing out accents” issue. Some people love it, some people hate it, I’m really unsure because I’m not a native speaker of English, so I’m not even sure I’m consistent in my narrative voice’s regional quirks. So far, I’ve mostly gone with describing that an accent is happening, and only writing out when phrasing actually differs from standard English. Like Ian (Scottish) saying “dinnae” but not writing “I” as “ah” as you’d see on, say, Scottish twitter.

Though it can be a very useful tool if, for instance, you want to indicate a characters accent getting stronger as they get tired or upset. 🧐

Anyway, I don’t think there is one right or wrong answer here and everyones milage will vary.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

Published? ST:PIC

Actually first? Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter. Pretty much simultaneously, though I did write more for LotR. On graph paper, mind, with my fountain pen turned upside down so I could write smaller. I still have folders worth of those stories that I urgently need to digitize before they fade and I lose them forever...

what’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I’m going to quote @thelaithlyworm here: I Love All My Children Equally! I honestly couldn’t say. They are different and I love them for different reasons but I love them all.

Thank you for the tag! ❤ I’ve kinda lost track of who all has done this already or has already been tagged, so feel free to ignore me! But I tink I’m tagging @curator-on-ao3, @aini-nufire, @29-pieces, @flowers-creativity, @highfunctioningflailgirl, @cristobalrios and @the-goofball. And anyone else whom I forgot or who feels inspired to do this!

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter One

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3, Tumblr Master Post

Chapter One

“Lightwood’s Mortuary, you stab ‘em, we slab ‘em. How may I direct your call?”

“You know,” Izzy said, “that joke would land a lot better if you hadn’t turned green last week when I mentioned getting to do my first cadaver dissection.”

“First of all,” Jace said, abandoning his laptop in favor of flopping back onto his bed, “it’s creepy that you say ‘getting to’ instead of ‘having to.’ And second of all, no one wants to hear about how much fun you had slicing up dead bodies over Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Max wanted to hear about it.”

“Max also can’t wait to get to middle school because he heard you get to use actual fire in science class,” Jace pointed out.

“Max is just into science like his big sister,” Izzy countered breezily. “Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Christmas.”

“Please,” Jace said with far more enthusiasm than the situation probably warranted. “I’m desperate enough for any distraction that will take me away from trying to memorize third declensions that I would love to discuss whatever family holiday drama is so colossal I’m hearing it from you instead of Alec. Is Robert planning to show up uninvited to Christmas dinner with his girlfriend again? Oh! Did Mom finally snap and kill him? Is that why Alec isn’t calling? Is he helping her hide the body?”

“Oh my god,” Izzy laughed. “Dad and Annamarie are spending the holidays in Provance with her family, and there are no bodies to be hidden. This is what you get for taking Latin instead of Spanish like a sane person.”

“This coming from a woman who’s studying both,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah, because a basic understanding of Latin and fluency in Spanish will both help me get into med school, and I need all the help I can get if I’m going to get into Grossman. Besides, I’d never imply anyone in this family is sane. If you studied more, you’d know that ‘Lightwood’ is just Latin for ‘totally fucking cracked.’”

“Please,” Jace snorted. “It’s not even a Latinate name. It’s Germanic. ‘Lightwood’ is Old English for ‘totally fucking cracked.’ Speaking of which, what’s the Christmas disaster?”

“It’s not a disaster exactly,” Izzy hedged, and Jace felt a sudden frisson of actual unease. Izzy normally had no problem speaking her mind. “It’s not a disaster at all, actually. It’s just. I invited someone.”

“Oh.” Jace relaxed. He didn’t know why Izzy was making such a big deal out of this. In the years since the divorce, Maryse had often encouraged her kids to invite any friends without a place to go to join them for holidays. Izzy’s own roommate had come for Thanksgiving last year. “That’s cool.”

“No,” Izzy said, like he was missing something obvious. “Jace, I invited someone. Someone I’m seeing. Seriously.”

“Oh,” Jace said again, this time with dawning comprehension. “That’s great, Iz. I’m happy for you. Wait, Mom’s not doing her overprotective, no-one-is-good-enough-for-my-children thing again, is she? Is that why you called, you need me to run interference?”

“No, no,” Izzy reassured him, although her voice still held an underlying tension. “Mom’s been great, actually. They knew each other already, so that probably helps.” Jace heard a shaky inhale before Izzy continued. “You, um. You know her, too, actually.”

“Oh yeah?” Jace said with forced ease, wracking his brain for any clue as to what could have Izzy so freaked out. Whatever it was, Jace wasn’t going to add to her stress. As far as he knew, Isabelle had never even been serious enough about someone before to even use the term girlfriend or boyfriend, let alone bring them home for Christmas. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

“It’s Clary,” Izzy said in a rush. “I’m dating Clary.”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and Jace was glad he was already lying down.

“Clary?” he repeated. “M—” He just barely stopped himself from saying “my Clary.” Because she wasn’t, not anymore. Not for a long time. “Morgenstern?” It was a clumsy recovery, but it was the best he could manage. “You’re dating Clary Morgenstern?”

Jace and Clary had met at the beginning of Jace’s junior year of high school. Clary, a year younger, had just lost her mom, and the two initially bonded over the shared experience of having lost parents. But Clary was fierce and bold and so full of passion even in the depths of her grief that Jace really couldn’t help falling in love with her. They’d dated for nearly two years—practically forever in high school terms—and even though they’d both known they were growing apart by the time Jace had to choose between his first-choice college in Boston and staying in New York to go to NYU, Clary would always hold a special place in Jace’s heart as his first love.

“Yeah,” Izzy said on a heavy exhale. “For a while now. That—that’s why I called. I didn’t want it to be weird, you know? For us all to just show up and for it to be a surprise. But I guess I probably shouldn’t have done it over the phone, either. I just didn’t think—”

“Izzy,” Jace said, much more calmly than he felt. “Breathe. It’s okay.”

“God, I should have told you sooner,” Izzy continued as though he hadn’t even spoken. “I just knew it probably would be weird for you, so I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure—”

“But you are now,” Jace interrupted again. It wasn't really a question. “Sure.”

“Yeah,” Izzy breathed. “I’m so sure.”

“Then it’s not weird,” Jace lied. “I mean, come on, my sister is dating someone who makes her happy and who I know will treat her right. What kind of idiot would I have to be to complain about that?”

“Really?” Izzy pressed. “Because I told Clary I wanted to talk to you before we finalized plans. So, if it is weird for you, or even if you just don’t want to be the only single person at the table on Christmas—”

“I won’t be,” Jace interrupted.

There was a pregnant pause, and then Izzy squealed so loud Jace had to pull the phone away from his ear.

“Oh my god, Jace! That’s amazing! Why didn’t you just say you were bringing someone, too, you jackass? Do you know how worried I’ve been about telling you about me and Clary?”

Which wasn’t what he’d meant at all—he’d only meant that Maryse was single, too—but Jace couldn’t resist the excitement in Izzy’s voice, not after her earlier panic.

“If I’d known you were all freaked out, I would have said something sooner,” Jace improvised. “It’s kind of new, and I haven’t even had the chance to tell Mom yet.”

“Let me,” Izzy insisted. “I’ve been trying to get her to admit that she and Luke are an item for ages, and maybe knowing that we’re all happily attached will be the push she needs.”

“Hold up. Mom…and Clary’s stepdad?” Jace was starting to wonder if this was some bizarre stress nightmare brought on by impending finals.

“Yup,” Izzy confirmed, popping the “p.” “They’re not even subtle about how much time they’re spending together, but Mom keeps talking about how they’re ‘just old friends.’” Jace could practically hear the eye roll.

“Anyway,” she continued, “if I leave now, I can catch Mom closing up the bookshop and maybe finally get her to crack. Don’t worry about Christmas plans. I’ll take care of everything. Talk to you later!”

“Iz, wait,” Jace started, but he was interrupted by the telltale beep of the call ending.

Jace stared at his phone, wondering how, exactly, he’d managed to make such a disaster of things. He couldn’t deal with this right now, he decided, tossing his phone aside. He just had to get through finals, and then he could come up with some excuse for why his nonexistent girlfriend couldn’t make it for Christmas. An excuse that wouldn’t make Izzy suspicious. Or Clary. Or Alec. Or— Fuck. Not thinking about it.

He turned his attention back to his laptop only to realize after several minutes of staring blankly that he wasn’t prepared to think about Latin anymore, either. Fuck it. He was going to spend the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking beer and watching stupid people doing stupid things on TV and thinking about absolutely nothing at all.

Because Jace just couldn’t catch a break, he found both the couch and TV already in use. He wanted to be annoyed, especially since he knew this was at least the dozenth time this semester his roommate had watched Return of the Jedi. Part of him was annoyed. But another part of him was…not annoyed. And that was yet another thing Jace wasn’t going to think about.

Jace’s first impression of Simon Lewis, when he’d walked into History and Literature of Music their freshman year, had been that he was kind of hot, in a nerdy way. His second impression, when he actually talked to Simon a few days later, was that the guy was annoying as hell. Over the course of the year, as they somehow ended up hanging out with the same group of friends, it became a tolerable sort of annoying. So tolerable, in fact, that when Jace found himself desperate for a roommate the next summer when Raj bailed on him last-minute, he’d agreed to let Simon have the second room in the surprisingly affordable apartment he’d found.

Jace’s third impression of Simon came four days after they’d moved in together, when he happened to be walking down the hallway at the exact moment Simon stepped out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, a stray droplet of water trailing down his surprisingly well-defined abs. In that moment, Jace must have lost his mind, because he had the sudden, almost overwhelming urge to follow the path of that droplet with his tongue and, oh. Oh no. Jace had been wrong this entire time. Simon wasn’t just annoying. He wasn’t just nerd-hot. He was annoyingly hot.

And Jace was maybe just a little bit in trouble.

Because he’d seen the kinds of people Simon dated. Thoughtful. Driven. Well-adjusted. Unlike Jace in pretty much every way that mattered. Not that Jace dated, but he wasn’t the kind of person Simon hooked up with, either, he was pretty sure.

(Jace confessed his fourth impression of Simon to Maia several months later, after many, many shots of tequila. Maia laughed at him for a solid five minutes, but she also poured them another round and never mentioned it again after they sobered up because she was actually a pretty good friend despite how much she always seemed to enjoy Jace’s suffering.)

“What’s wrong?” Simon asked around a mouthful of instant ramen. Jace refused to acknowledge that the way his cheeks puffed out when he ate was cute.

“Just.” Jace shook his head. “Holidays. Family stuff.”

“Your sister planning to make Christmas dinner again?” Simon asked.

“Worse,” Jace said, flopping onto the other end of their stained Goodwill couch. “She’s dating my ex.”

Simon winced. “Ouch, dude.” Simon poked at his noodles with a pair of well-used disposable chopsticks. “You still have feelings for your ex?”

“What? No, of course not. It was ages ago, and we were practically still kids. And the breakup was mutual.” He made a face. “But Izzy’s bringing her home for Christmas.”

“Okay, yeah, that could be a little awkward,” Simon conceded.

“It gets worse,” Jace admitted. “When she told me, I kind of panicked and said I was bringing someone home, too.”

Simon frowned. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone.”

“I’m not,” Jace told him. “Which is kind of the problem.”

“Wow. You really know how to make things difficult for yourself.”

“Thanks,” Jace said. “Very helpful.”

Simon shrugged, then said, as casual as if he were offering to toss Jace’s towels in with his to make a full load at the laundromat, “You could always take me home with you.”

Jace stared. “What?”

“I mean, I’m going to be in the city anyway,” Simon continued, “and it’s not like my family does Christmas. I think Mom and Becky can manage the traditional Chinese takeout and Fast and Furious marathon without me.”

“Your family watches The Fast and the Furious on Christmas?” It was the only part of that Jace was emotionally prepared to process.

“It used to be Die Hard, but Mom’s got a thing for Vin Diesel, so now we alternate years.”

Jace stared a moment longer, waiting for any of this to make sense. On the television, Boushh threatened Jabba with a thermal detonator.

“Right,” Jace said when it was clear the situation wasn’t going to make sense of itself. “Okay. Rewind to the part where I’m supposed to take you home with me for Christmas and, what, pretend you’re my boyfriend?”

He could picture it all too easily. Simon wielding his enthusiastic charm to keep Izzy out of the kitchen while Jace helped Maryse make dinner. Simon joining Alec in coaxing Jace toward the piano when it was time to sing carols. Simon flushed and smiling after a couple mugs of Magnus’s deceptively alcoholic eggnog. Simon’s hand in his because that’s just something boyfriends do.

It was a horrifyingly tempting prospect.

Jace pushed those thoughts away, crossing his arms over his chest and directing all the scorn he felt at himself into the stare he leveled at Simon. “What’s that supposed to accomplish other than giving me a headache?”

“Hey,” Simon said, setting the dregs of his ramen down on their secondhand Ikea coffee table, “I’ll have you know that I make an excellent boyfriend.”

That wasn’t exactly news. The fact that Simon was friends with basically all of his exes said as much. But Jace wasn’t about to let on that he paid that much attention to Simon’s dating habits. Or to pass up such a good opening. “That why you’re single?”

“Not the one currently desperate for a holiday date here, pal,” Simon pointed out.

“I don’t know, you seemed pretty eager to be my holiday date just a second ago,” Jace said, adding a wink just to be obnoxious.

“It was an offer, jackass. One which I now deeply regret.”

“Which you should,” Jace told him, turning to the TV and pretending to watch. “Now we can both forget this conversation ever happened, and I can go back to figuring out what I’m going to tell my family about why my nonexistent significant other can’t make it for Christmas this year.”

“Right,” Simon muttered, picking up his bowl and turning his own attention back to the movie.

Jace told himself he didn’t feel just the tiniest bit disappointed.

“The thing is,” Simon said several minutes later, as Boba Fett tumbled into the Sarlaac pit, “my cousin Rachel is getting married on Valentine’s Day. And my Bubbe Helen is still pretty cranky with me for breaking up with Maia.”

Jace frowned at him. “You and Maia dated for like a month and a half. Over a year ago.”

“Yeah, well,” Simon said, “Bubbe Helen really liked her, but I think maybe that’s because Maia’s the only person I’ve ever brought to a family function. So, I was thinking maybe if I brought someone else to Rachel’s wedding, she’d get the hint and drop the Maia thing. And then you suddenly needed someone to take home for Christmas, and I thought we could, you know, help each other out.”

It was a terrible idea, and Jace meant to say so. He really did. But what came out of his mouth instead was, “You want to introduce me to your grandmother?”

“I mean,” Simon said with a shrug, “she’d probably be happier if you were Jewish, but I honestly think she’d be happy to see me with anyone who’s not a total asshole. Ever since she found out Maia and I aren’t together anymore, she’s been acting like I’m going to end up a lonely old maid or something, which I totally don’t get, because A, I’m only twenty-one, and B, she doesn’t think it’s a problem that Becky’s single and Becky’s two years older than me.”

“Glad to know I meet the very minimal requirement of not being an asshole.”

“Not a total asshole,” Simon corrected with a teasing grin.

“You’re really making a compelling case for trying to convince our families that we’re a couple,” Jace said drily. But he was maybe just a little bit weak for Simon’s smile, so he added, “But you might as well tell me how exactly you think this would work. Theoretically.”

“Theoretically,” Simon repeated. “Right. Well, we’d need to come up with a game plan, obviously. And rules. Rules that we actually follow, because that’s where things like this always fall apart, when someone ignores the rules.”

“Where things always fall apart,” Jace repeated. “Is this something you do often?”

“What? No! I just mean like in movies and stuff. Fake dating is practically its own genre, so we have a ton of examples for how not to do it, and…” Simon frowned as his voice trailed off. “And now that I’m saying this out loud, I’m realizing how dumb it sounds. You’re right. We should forget this conversation ever happened.”

“Or,” Jace said slowly, knowing he was going to regret it but unable to stop himself, “we could spend some time coming up with a plan and then decide if we think it will work.”

“Wait, really?” The slow grin spreading across Simon’s face did nothing to ease Jace’s sense of impending doom, but it did fill him with a soft warmth that made the doom easier to ignore.

“Why not?” Jace shrugged with practiced nonchalance. “I’m done with classes at noon tomorrow if you want to do it then.”

“I’ve got a break from then till three if you don’t mind meeting near campus,” Simon said. “Say, Java Jones at twelve-thirty?”

“Sure,” Jace agreed to the background of Jabba’s sail barge exploding. He hoped that was less metaphorical than it felt.

~~~

“I thought we were planning a couple of fake dates, not staging a major military operation,” Jace said as he surveyed the notebooks and stacks of paper strewn across the rickety cafe table in front of Simon.

“Oh, sorry,” Simon said, hastily shoving exactly one of the many notebooks into his backpack. “I was just reviewing notes for my econ final while I waited.”

“Is all of this really necessary?” Jace asked, attempting to clear enough room on the table for his coffee and the banana muffin that was attempting to pass for lunch.

“It’s so necessary,” Simon told him, reaching over to steal a piece of Jace’s muffin. “I don’t want to end up like Melissa Joan Hart in My Fake Fiancé.” He popped the piece of muffin into his mouth. “Or Melissa Joan Hart in Drive Me Crazy. Oh! Or even worse, Melissa Joan Hart in Holiday in Handcuffs.”

“I have no idea what you just said.”

Simon sighed heavily. “I’m saying we need clear, well-defined rules if this is going to work.”

“Is rule number one ‘don’t be Melissa Joan Hart’?” Jace asked, snatching his muffin away when Simon reached for it again and taking a pointed bite.

“No,” Simon said, with far more seriousness than Jace thought the situation warranted. “That’s rule number two. Rule number one,” he continued, opening a blue notebook to a fresh page, “is ‘absolutely no sex.’”

Jace choked on his muffin.

“If there’s one thing everyone seems to agree with, it’s that things always break down when that rule gets broken,” Simon continued as though Jace weren’t struggling to breathe around a mouthful of muffin and why Simon thought they even needed a rule for that.

Jace washed the remaining crumbs of muffin down with a generous swig of coffee, then leaned back in his chair with a deliberately cocky grin. “I mean, I know I’m damn near irresistible, but do you really think you need a rule to keep from jumping me?”

“Rule three,’’ Simon said, scribbling furiously in the notebook, “treat each other with the same respect we’d treat people we’re actually dating.”

“Hey, I would have the same question for someone I was actually dating.”

Simon looked up from the notebook. “That explains so much about your dating history.”

Jace flipped him off, and Simon flashed him a shit-eating grin. “Nope, sorry, rule one. But,” he continued, serious once again, “we should have rules about what kind of physical affection we are comfortable with. Like, I know we don’t normally do hugs, but it would be weird if we never hugged in front of your family if we were dating, right? What about holding hands, is that too much? And what about kissing? I’m definitely cool with cheek kisses, but I don’t know—”

“Simon,” Jace interrupted before he could get too worked up. Or make Jace think about more things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. “You’re allowed to hug me. And hold my hand. Honestly, I’m sure I’d be fine with anything you’re comfortable doing in front of my family, so how about we just go with this: casual touches are fine and for anything else, I’ll follow your lead.”

The look Simon gave him was so searching that Jace almost worried for a second that Simon would be able to see right past his crossed arms and feigned nonchalance to the part of him that was less worried about showing physical affection than how much he wanted it, the part that avoided hugging Simon because he liked it.

“Okay,” Simon said finally. “But you have to promise you’ll tell me if anything I do bothers you even a little bit.”

“You mean like singing Shake It Off at the top of your lungs in the shower?” Jace asked.

“That was one time!” Simon protested. “I was up all night studying and under the influence of too many energy drinks. We agreed never to mention it again.”

“No, you told me never to mention it again and I laughed at you.”

“See, this is why we need rules. You’re already breaking number three.”

“Yeah, because we’re not pretend-dating yet,” Jace said. “That one might be a little rough, but I’m sure I can manage with some practice.”

There was that searching look again, but then Simon nodded like Jace had said something particularly insightful. “You’re right, we should practice.”

“We—what?”

“If we’re going to convince people who actually know us that we’re dating, then we should practice first,” Simon said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “Not just the rules we know are going to be hard, but all of it, so we can work out any kinks in the plan before showtime.”

And maybe it was reasonable, but it was one thing to put on a show for his family, for Simon’s family, for a few days at a time in places that might be familiar to each of them individually, but that weren’t theirs. It was entirely another thing to do it here, in the cafe they went to at least twice a week, or on campus where they’d first met and had to keep on attending classes for at least another year, or even worse in the apartment they shared, around their friends—

“I really should have thought of it earlier,” Simon continued, blissfully unaware of Jace’s inner turmoil. “My best friend back home, she’s an amazing liar. Like, seriously, she got away with everything when we were kids. But any time she needed me to back up her story, she’d make me practice with her like a hundred times until she knew I could convince her mom and stepdad, even after I got good enough that I didn’t have to practice to convince Mom. Man, those two could sniff out the tiniest discrepancy in any story. Like, if normal parent bullshit detection is a one, my mom’s is probably a solid three, but Fray’s parents? Eleven, easy.”

“I’m pretty sure no one I’m related to has supernatural bullshit detection,” Jace told him. “And it’s common knowledge I’m a better liar than you are, so if you can fool your mom without practice, so can I.”

“Maybe,” Simon conceded. “But a little bit of practice couldn’t hurt, right?”

Jace was pretty sure that it could hurt, actually, but he was also pretty sure he was the only one in danger of getting hurt, so it probably wasn’t worth consideration. Especially weighed against the hopeful enthusiasm in Simon’s expression.

“What did you have in mind?”

“We could start by pretending we’re on a date right now,” Simon suggested. “We’re already sharing a muffin. So, just treat me like you’d treat anyone you were on a date with.”

“My dates don’t usually involve this many notebooks,” Jace told him. “And if my date stole my muffin, the date would be over.”

“Come on, you’re not even trying,” Simon said, gathering up the papers and notebooks. “You’d really ditch your date over a muffin?”

“Absolutely,” Jace insisted. “They’d have to be seriously good in bed to make up for it, and I’m pretty sure rule number one says you’ll never get muffin-stealing privileges.”

“If the biggest benefit to sleeping with you is getting to share your muffins, then I’m not the one missing out,” Simon told him.

“You selling your body for muffins now, Lightwood?” an amused voice interrupted. “I bet I know a few people who’d toss a bran muffin or two your way for a chance at that ass.”

“Which is why you’re not my pastry-pimp, Roberts,” Jace said, smirking at Maia as she helped herself to one of the table’s empty chairs. “I only trade this ass for top tier, gourmet muffins. If your muffins don’t have at least two Michelin stars, I’m not interested.”

“I give him a week until he’s working corners for Entenmann’s,” Simon told her. “He was just threatening to walk out on our date over a bite of mediocre banana nut.”

Maia’s eyes widened. “Your— Oh, shit, sorry,” she said, scrambling out of her chair and throwing them both an apologetic smile that Jace was pretty sure wouldn’t be directed at him if he were sitting with anyone other than Simon. “I swear I didn’t mean to interrupt, I just thought you were studying or something. You guys have fun, and I’ll just—”

“It’s a practice date,” Jace interrupted, “not an actual date. And Simon’s a dirty muffin thief who won’t even put out, so I’m not sure it really even qualifies as any kind of date.”

Maia looked between the two of them, then slowly lowered herself back into the chair. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly is a ‘practice date,’ and why are the two of you on one?”

“Jace needs a fake boyfriend to take home for Christmas, and I need a fake date for Rachel’s wedding,” Simon explained, snatching the last bit of Jace’s muffin without remorse. “And we thought we should practice dating before trying to convince our families that were actually, you know, together.”

“That’s a terrible idea, and I regret any part I played in the two of you becoming friends,” Maia said flatly.

“Yeah, that would probably worry me more if you didn’t say that like twice a week,” Simon told her.

“Oh god, Simon, what did you let Jace talk you into now?” another voice asked, and suddenly there were three more people crowding around their tiny table, because apparently all of their friends were at Java Jones today. Which, in retrospect, Jace should have expected, given how often they all hung out there.

“It was actually my idea,” Simon told Maureen, sliding his chair closer to Jace’s to make room for her, Bat, and Lily. “Jace is taking me home to meet his family over the holidays, and I’m taking him as my date to my cousin’s wedding.”

This proclamation was met with a stunned silence that was broken when Lily turned to Jace and punched him in the arm.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“That’s for abandoning me, jerk,” Lily told him. “Not that I can really blame you—either of you,” she added, giving both Jace and Simon an appreciative once over, “‘cause damn—but I thought we had an understanding.” She sighed heavily. “Now that you’ve gone over the dating Dark Side, who’s going to be my wingman? You’re probably going to start doing all kinds of relationship-y things and talking about feelings—” she said it like it was a dirty word “—and crap like that.”

“I am not going to talk about my feelings,” Jace said, at the same time that Simon said, “We’re not actually together. We’re just pretending.”

“They’re planning to try to convince their families they’re dating even though they’re not,” Maia explained. “Because they apparently think that’s not just a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh,” Lily said, sounding oddly disappointed.

“Fifty bucks,” Bat announced, “says that when this blows up in their faces, Jace is the first one to break down and call Maia in a panic.”

“Hey,” Jace protested.

“Oh, you’re on,” Maureen said, ignoring Jace entirely. “Sorry, Simon, but no one panics quite like you.”

“I’m in,” Lily said, “and I agree with Maureen that Simon will break first, but his call to Maia will be interrupted by Jace calling five minutes later.”

“Why am I the one getting all of the panicked calls?” Maia wanted to know.

“Because you’re the only person at this table who isn’t an asshole,” Simon told her, “but nothing’s going to go wrong, let alone panic-inducing levels of wrong, so you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“Dude,” Jace said, “she’s an asshole to me.”

“You like it,” Maia and Simon said in unison, causing the rest of the table to collapse into laughter.

“Okay, fine,” Maia said around her giggles several minutes later, “if you’re all betting, then count me in, too. I bet that these fools,” she looked pointedly at Jace, then at Simon, “don’t call me when this whole thing goes to hell, but I somehow end up having to haul their asses out of trouble, anyway.”

“I rescind my assessment of you as not an asshole,” Simon told her.

“I’d think twice about calling the woman who’s going to haul your ass out of trouble an asshole if I were you,” Bat said.

“Back to this pretending to be together thing,” Lily said. “What exactly does that entail?”

“That’s actually what we were trying to figure out when you guys showed up,” Simon told her. “We started a list of rules, but we only made it to four so far.”

“Your list should definitely include making out,” Lily said decisively. “Having made out with both of you, I can say with confidence that you’re definitely missing out if you don’t. In fact, you should try it now so we can let you know if it looks authentic.”

“You just want to watch them make out,” Maureen said.

“Yes,” Lily told her. She didn’t add ‘duh,’ but it was implied. “I always want to make hot people make out. But in this case, I’m also being helpful.”

The ensuing argument over the line between helpful and self-serving was thankfully cut short by the opening guitar line of Blonde Redhead’s Barragan.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this,” Simon said, holding up his phone. “I’ve been playing voicemail tag with Becky all week.” He looked at Jace. “Talk more about this later?”

“Sure,” Jace told him.

“Tell your sister I said hi,” Maia called after Simon as he headed away from the cafe’s crowd.

“You know,” Jace told her in a low voice, “you could always tell her hi yourself instead of always asking Simon to pass messages.”

Maia gave him an unimpressed look. “After everything I just heard, I’m pretty sure you’re the last person in this room I should be taking relationship advice from.”

“Bite me,” Jace told her, but he didn’t disagree.

[yournameyn]

Feeling Deeply

Genre: Fluff so much fluff. Arranged Marriage fic.

Pairing: Namjoon x OC

A/N: Aaaaaa this is the first fic I'm posting ever ever. It's basically a way to follow the red thread of my desires. OC is named Brishti. She's Indian. She's Bengali & curvy & an introvert. This whole fic is 90% going to be a slow burn fluff fic about two introvert nerds getting to know each other. Seriously there's like hardly any real angst, maybe slight angst about okay when are these two going to bang - if you look very carefully but basically its just slooooow fluuuufff. Hopefully you all like it. Please let me know what you think. Current Chapter: This one is loooong. Remember this is all happening in the 1960s. OC & Namjoon are both really well off first gen immigrants. In this chapter we have our couple coming closer together - talking about some issues they've both had in their lives. Also this is the chapter where you'll get to know one of my favourite Namjoon songs and like why the OC is named what she's named. Also just a reminder because im a bit paranoid - Rim Jhim (referred to as Rim) is our OC Brishti. Its a pet name that's introduced in this chapter. And Namjoon being the wordsmith that he is makes it shorter, with the korean meaning of the word.

Previously in Feeling Deeply: Preface-ish Chapter 1

Chapter 2

And so it went for the next few days, the two of them quietly discovering each other. They were finding out the normal, casual, small things - how he didn’t like mint chocolate, how she loved bitter black coffee. Since both of them worked, they decided to split the chores at home. It worked out great because Namjoon liked to sweep & Brishti loved to do the dishes. They both struggled to cook but they decided to learn how to cook each other’s cuisines. So she was learning how to make kimchi (the green onion one) & he was learning how to prepare daal (the yellow one). They split the rent & decided to create a separate bank account for their savings. Talking about money increased warmth because they discovered that neither valued it excessively.

Slowly, they began talking about things a little more intimate. Meanings of names were revealed. She was impressed that his name meant genius. And he loved that hers meant rain. Pet names were introduced. He called her Rim - an even shorter version of her daak naam Rim Jhim. He told her to call him Joon. She looked away, smiling, then - silently telling him they’re not there yet. What he didn’t tell her was that he was already making up a fairytale about Joon, the genius & Rim, the brilliant jade that makes him so.

They spoke about books the most. Between them, they had half the globe's literature covered. She had read Indian authors & Russian & Spanish ones. He loved Korean authors, Japanese literature & all the Greek Classics. He geeked out about philosophy & poetry while she nerded over nature writing & music. They spoke about how they might take a look at other European writers & musicians together. To that end, Namjoon brought home a book of love poems by Rilke.

He hadn’t told her that he wrote poetry too. He hadn’t mentioned anything because it seemed like an indulgence of the past, poetry. But that night everything changed. After a late dinner, Brishti had asked to read aloud from the book he’d brought. As she read ‘To Music’, Namjoon saw tears float in her eyes. Secretly, something inside him had wept too. And just like that, he knew he would begin writing soon.

Each week the two watched late shows of classic hollywood musicals in a nearby theatre because they’d decided against a tv in their home - opting, instead, for a record player. Meeting for a movie each of the two Fridays they’d spent together so far was an experience both looked forward to - not only for the movie. In the darkness of the movie theatre, they experienced the first glimpses of intimacy. Soft smiles, whispering, silent glances, hands caressing each other. He loved how she laughed with abandon. She loved that he would tear up during the emotional scenes.

Her smile was getting wider, warmer toward him, Namjoon noted everyday. He’d been sleeping separately since their wedding night because he wanted her to feel safe. He was mostly okay with that except if he thought about it… If he thought about a time when he would get to touch her - Namjoon almost felt dizzy with feelings.

This happened the most when he saw her read by the window, he ached to touch her. That was her - Brishti - that was who she was at her core. Reading, running her fingers through her short hair, staring out the window, thinking, looking at clouds & then going back to reading. She was still quiet, but less so. She spoke about the rain and the trees and when she was happiest, he learned, when she really trusted that no one was going to judge her, she spoke about the moon. It had happened twice in the last few days.

He couldn’t stop looking at her. As though that needed reasoning, he thought about it at the office too. It wasn’t the only answer he could come up with but Namjoon had never seen a body like hers. She didn’t seem brittle or delicate, the way most women looked - or were “supposed to look”. She didn’t care what a body is supposed to look like, at least, it seemed that way to him. Brishti’s curves were not subtle. She was short and while almost everyone was shorter than him, Brishti was just… sexily so. She’d do these things… seemingly normal, everyday things but they would quickly, embarrassingly, inspire an arousal in him. Like, that thing she did, when she stretched after waking up or even if she stretched her arms or her neck… for some reason that turned him on so much, he’d have to hide… or excuse himself. His breath hitched, everytime he thought about how he hadn’t still actually seen her body.

Brishti, too, enjoyed looking at him from afar. Sharing, creating a living space with a man was never something she thought she would enjoy. They had exchanged the basic stories of how they had reached each other.

Namjoon had said, “I’d met a couple of women… girls… but they just seemed either plastic or porcelain… you know? I mean, not all of them could have been that but that's how they… presented themselves? You… I saw your photos in a pile that the matchmaker labelled ‘rubbish’”

“What?!”

“Yeah… I’m sorry but it’s actually a compliment to be labelled ‘bad’ by a matchmaker. That’s why I was looking in that pile in the first place… when I heard you wanted to keep working… Honestly I was so relieved...”

She smiled, “At least you got a look at me… I didn’t even know what you looked like till we met. I had no choice at all. A boy had agreed to marry me - despite… me… so that was the end of it. That was the bargain with my brother… otherwise I wouldn’t have been allowed to work either.”

“Wow… I’m so sorry, Rim. That’s really… really unfair.”

“Hmm yeah… I just figured if I can keep earning & the man turns out to be wrong, at least I can leave.”

“That’s… thanks for not leaving...”

Brishti smiled, “I got lucky...”

Namjoon understood, then, that Brishti might be an introvert but that did not mean she was shy. She made him blush & laugh. She made him speak without inhibition. The more time he spent with her, his feelings poured out.

“Thanks… It’s been really nice to share this home with you. Just to have you to talk to… My life was not going that great...” he said.

Brishti nodded, even though she already knew this. Whatever he said, strangely, she could see a deeper melancholy behind it. They spoke about being strangers in a strange country. She told him how she had to fight at the library for Tagore to be considered classic literature. How she was slowly but surely, being accepted in the oddball group that ran the library. She was not the only non-english person there, so things were easier for her. Besides, true readers had always been more accepting of the different.

Something made her regret sharing her happiness about this because his struggle in this foreign land was far more intense… she could sense pain behind the words he used. Namjoon did not enjoy his job the way she did. He worked overtime most days and came home bone-tired. Kim Namjoon was in many ratraces at the same time - races Brishti felt he didn’t want to participate at all. Being a lawyer, being an asian - the ‘model minority’, being a slightly well-off Korean in a sea of white men, in a sea of less fortunate asians who were being treated much worse than him. Trying to create a name, an identity of his own was wearing him out... chipping away at his soul.

Brishti sometimes saw him and saw a great banyan cutting itself down, trying to be a shrub just to fit in. When she asked him how his day was, he always smiled. It was real, the smile and yet it couldn’t hide the sadness in his eyes. Something that was beginning to bother Brishti more and more, these days. He... had begun to matter more and more these days.

Now, about two weeks into their marriage, she was experiencing butterflies about the smallest things; Things like watching him sleep on the fold out, bringing him coffee in the morning. She felt a pull deep inside her take over when he would come out of the shower in the bathrobe, skin glistening from the shower & musky man-scents launching her body in a fantastical arousal & her mind in overdrive. Somedays, Brishti even went for a shower after he’d been, just so she could soak in his essence & bathe in a trance she had never felt before.

On their third weekend together, Namjoon didn’t have to go to work the whole weekend. He’d spoken to his superior at the firm to let him have weekends free - after all, he was married now. Post lunch that Saturday, Brishti and he kept unpacking, organising while talking (well, later on, it was just coffee & talking) into the early hours of Sunday. They spoke about things they loved, people they had loved. About fictional crushes and real ones. Both of them spoke about their past relationships. Something Brishti was delighted about - especially since Namjoon told her he was not the type to hold someone’s past against them.

Brishti couldn’t believe it when Namjoon had correctly guessed, “It was the photographer, right?”

“What-?! How- Where- How did you…?” Brishti couldn’t even form a question.

“Your photos, at the matchmakers… something was different. All the other pictures women give out for arranged matches seem... fake. Yours were… real… private. You looked comfortable… looked like you were being teased...” What he didn’t say was how much it seemed in those pictures like she was with someone she truly liked… maybe even loved.

Sat on the ground opposite Namjoon, Brishti kept her gaze on him. It unnerved Namjoon that she could really see him. She unnerved him further when she said, “You should say what you aren’t saying… or… asking?”

“Did you love him?”

“Not really… it was just... a different kind of friendship… ended almost as soon as it began. But I- I don’t regret it. It wasn’t the kind of love-” she trailed off. She looked away, smiling but trying to hide it. The same way she had in the photograph.

He pressed further just to tease her “Kind of love...?” Namjoon was intrigued because she was blushing now & he wanted to plant a thousand pecks on her. Instead he said, “So you can just… stop what you were saying? Mmm. Okay. I see.”

She looked at him then, “I’m feeling… a lot… of… different things these days. Especially because of a couple of dimples...”

Just like that, she turned the tables & his dimples appeared. He blushed, “Yeah… same. I mean… you don’t have dimples but I’ve-”

She nodded to let him know she understood. And then asked, “Uhm... Have you… had sex?”

Namjoon bit his lip, “Yeah… yes. I... had a girlfriend in law school. It… uh… wasn’t serious… for her.”

Brishti looked away nodding, as if stopping herself from saying something.

He looked at her… knowing what she probably wanted to say. He wanted to hug her but he only said, “It doesn’t matter, does it? For me it doesn’t. Doesn’t matter if you’ve had sex too… I know how people can be about virginity… I- honestly… it's just another way to control people.”

She looked at him with a mixture of emotions. She took a minute to compose herself & then said, “I’ve never met a man like you… and it's a little confusing and annoying… Not that you are annoying… not at all. It’s just the world is annoying because this is how low the standard is for a man. A man accepting that the woman has a past makes him… forward…? But of course the woman has to… because, well, he’s a man and he has needs. We’re all told that… Shirley... who works with me… she knows it too. Women just aren’t supposed to talk about their pasts. All women.”

She paused & got flustered further because of how dedicatedly Namjoon had been listening. It really seemed as if he was taking notes. The serious expression on his face, it made Brishti's ears feel hot. Almost as a distraction, she went on -

“It's crazy but that seems to be the only thing THE WHOLE WORLD has agreed on - they can’t agree on one way to make bread but they all agreed that women are inferior. It’s such a basic thing to just let me work… because I want to… but it's annoying that it makes me feel lucky. My best friend had to go through hell because she thought she could trust her husband with the truth about her past… so it makes me feel lucky that… you won’t…”

Namjoon could see the pain in her words. Maybe that’s how she could always sense the pain in his words, he thought.

After a calming silence passed over them, he spoke - “I won’t. I don’t really know what it’s like for a woman. And… maybe you won’t like to hear this, but… I was the same, Rim... I was the man my society had trained me to be. Everything changed when I came here. When, for the first time in my life, I understood what it’s like to be treated inferior. Since then, I just… I cannot be the cause of a feeling like that within anyone... So… you’re right. I’m not doing anything everyone shouldn’t already do. All of this should be normal. Expected. Hopefully the world learns a bit faster…”

Brishti smiled at Namjoon. She chuckled when tears pooled up in her eyes. He instinctively reached out for her & placed a hand on her leg, just below her knee. A jolt went through Brishti and she looked surprised. He did too. Namjoon retracted his hand immediately & looked away, blushing. That’s when Brishti laughed out loud. She stood up. And asked him to stand up, silently.

He did. It always made Brishti’s heart flutter just how gorgeous and tall he was. Someday, she would tell him. Someday, she would show him. For now, she couldn’t help feeling bashful as she asked, “Can I get a hug, Joon?”

This was the first time she’d used the pet name that he’d asked her to call him by. This was what his family called him. And her using this name assured Namjoon of just that - she was becoming family. Her question had made his heart flip. He moved without really thinking, because this is what his body had wanted since the day he saw her. He pulled her up in his arms. He felt like he was melting. She was soft. Warm. Beautiful. And in his arms.

Brishti gasped a little when Namjoon had scooped her up in his arms. She was on her toes, literally & figuratively. She held onto him, less as a hug & more as support… at first. Then, she felt his arms… the strong arms that she had been ogling at, around her. It was as if a knot came undone, within her, suddenly. And in its place, the softest silk suddenly flowed through her body.

She closed her eyes and breathed him in. The same essence that she’d been soaking in after he had showered, that she had been breathing in whenever he would pass by or reach past her. The essence that she had now become so hungry for that she had been secretly sleeping with the shirt he’d worn from the laundry basket. That essence was now all over her. Her chin turned up, resting on his shoulders, her cheeks touching his, her hands - on their own - reached the nape of his neck and began to play with his hair.

When she did that, Namjoon held her tighter, pressed her on to him. He felt her body react to his. One hand reaching her shoulder around her back, he moved the other closer to her waist, so his hands could fold over her curves. He could feel her breath hitch when he did that.

Brishti was revelling in the feeling of his hands, his fingers, feeling his fingertips press into her - that was a feeling she could never have imagined making her so... so... drunk. She was drunk. She ran her hands up and down his vast back, all the way up to his hair. All of a sudden she could feel herself overcome with emotion. Tears began pooling in her eyes again. And she said, before it was too late, she said, “Thank you, Joon, for everything… thank you.”

When he heard the tremble in her voice, Namjoon pulled away, just so he could see her. Brishti quickly retracted too - to wipe off her tears, trying to laugh off the silliness, apologising. Namjoon replied, “It’s okay… I understand… I… Thank you, Rim. I hope you… you know what I mean...” What he wanted to say, what he hoped she understood was that she was what was helping him come alive. But being unable to, Namjoon knew someday he would. Someday soon.

Brishti nodded to say she understood. Namjoon tried to lighten the atmosphere, saying, “You’re not… just anyone, you know? So… maybe you should tell me something I could do which is… not just basic decency, but something that can be considered truly feminist, you know. I’d love to do that for you.”

Brishti smiled and nodded. She suddenly felt tired & almost of its own accord, her body stretched into a yawn. She said, “I’ll think of something. We- I should go now… Do you want- anything?...” Brishti was delighted about how drunk she had gotten from one hug. It was exciting that she knew she’d be sleeping with the sweater he had tossed in the laundry basket tonight. She decided to take a bit more time to enjoy being intoxicated without a substance, together and alone.

Later that night, as Namjoon laid on his fold out sofa, alone, he thought of how great it had felt to have Brishti in his arms. To have someone who wanted to know about his day. To feel her heartbeat, like raindrops, knocking on his chest like it was a window pane, almost as if asking to be let in…

Thoughts like these, they made Namjoon reach for the notepad & pen that he always kept close by. He wrote. He wrote of being world weary and suddenly having a friend. Suddenly feeling like the world wasn't rushing him, that he didn’t need to run, that he could take time, be slow, be a poet. His heart tugged at his pen as it wrote lines about what it felt like to have someone cry for him. To have someone be full of feelings for him, to have someone to embrace his weary body. He wrote about how he missed that embrace and yet it was okay… as long as she was still here, maybe not just next to him, yet. Maybe someday. It was okay because she asked how he was every day and Brishti was here, forever. Namjoon felt tears run down his own face, as he titled the first poem he’d written in almost five years - Forever Rain.

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Oooooh god you read it?! Thank you so much! Please please let me know what you thought! Get into my messages about it! I would love nothing more than to hear what you felt about this!

[fandomnetworks]

La Princessa

Summary: You’re the young sister of the president of Colombia, and ever since the threats against high ranking members of society, your brother asked you to stay safe and placed in the care of the military. To your dismay not everyone is nice to you. 

Pairing: I have no clue where the story is going so idk. I find like every other guy on this tv show extremely handsome. 

first NARCOS story I have written so please be kind to me if there are any mistakes.

What happens when Colombia's new president begins getting death threats from the worst, or should I say best drug lord to roam Earth? Nothing. But his little sister gets the butt end of the deal as she is taken away to be watched twenty-four-seven by soldiers. Once, the ex-president's daughter was taken hostage, the security around you doubled down. And after your elder brother spoke to the Colonel of the army, everything got so much worse for you.

Why did you ever let your brother manage to drag you away from the United States back to your homeland? If you had known you'd be locked inside a shitty apartment for god knows how long, you would have stayed in your New York apartment and kept watering your plants. Which as you thought about it, they were probably dead by now.

It felt weird that your nervous and anxious brother became president. You would think people would treat you with something along the lines of respect. But as you soon found out, as soon as you arrived, everyone considered the president’s sister as the little damsel in distress, the princess who had no idea what was going on.

You spoke to the ex-president of Colombia over the phone, and he warned you that you should stay in the care of the soldiers. His wife soon took over the phone and held the conversation between sorrow and fear. And they kept you at bay in the meantime. You had strict orders to stay in the apartment, not to talk to anyone (not even the two soldiers outside of your door), and wait for your daily meals.

You couldn't do this for much longer; wanting to go back to your old life and wish your brother the best during his reign and peace the fuck out of Colombia.

But then the news of the death of Diana hit the tv screens, and everything shifted.

When once it all felt distant, and everyone was assured that Pablo would never kill her, your life changed drastically yet again. The burial was held grandly. Even though they were mad at Caesar, the grieving parents found comfort in talking to you. They asked you to take even more precautions because they couldn't lose their daughter and someone they considered one too.

Two weeks after the passing of Diana, you were left abandoned yet again in the shitty apartment. Jesus, you couldn't take it any longer in this place. And so you marched up to the front door, opened it in a rapid motion, and took to sprinting off, hoping you'd be too fast for the soldiers to catch up. But that plan was swiftly ruled out. "A donde te me vas princessa?" The younger soldier held on to you by the waist and rooted you down once you began to struggle in his arms.

This occurred not once, not twice, sadly not even three times. You had failed six times. By the seventh, they waited to hear your footsteps to walk up to the door. By the third week, you were cursing your brother out over the phone every few hours. Your sister-in-law would call when she could, but she was always entertained with your nephews and nieces.

On Tuesday, the soldiers knocked on your door. Over closed doors, they told you to get ready because you'd be going to their base to talk to a certain Horacio Carrillo. It took you all but 20 minutes to get prepared, when opening the door, the soldiers let out a low whistle. "I should have said we were going to the base a long time ago." The older soldier spoke in perfect Spanish.

"I kinda liked the sweatpants and greasy hair." The younger soldier joked, and you looked at him offendedly.

"Enjoy the view, muchachos. After today, I hope I never see this sad place again." You referred to the old apartment.

The trip to the base was quicker than you had thought. The proximity of it seemed as if it was planned that way. And even shorter was the walk from the car to the office of Horacio Carrillo. Your heeled shoes clinked-clanked all through the room, and it gained everyone's attention. Even though everyone seemed to have a duty to fulfill, their eyes laid on you and the two soldiers who walked in front of you. The pink dress you wore was airy and gave your complexion a soft look. The dress was a contrast to their dark hued uniforms. 

Once the two soldiers settled arrangements with the front secretary for the purpose of the visit, they exchanged quick words. They waited for who you assumed was Carrillo to open his door. 

Once he came to the door, he said, "Gracias, se pueden retirar (Thank you, you may leave).”

The men said their goodbyes to you and left, while Carrillo introduced himself to you and welcomed you into the room.

He asked for you to take a seat, and once you did, he as well took a seat. He tried to start small talk immediately, but you cut to the chase. "Listen, I don't care about politics or the arrangements you and my brother have settled. I think I am capable of taking care of myself, and I doubt there's a threat against me anymore."

"Miss. Gaviria, I assure you, when the time is right, you will be back in the States." 

"No, I don't think you quite understand Coronel, I cannot stand living there anymore. What is the point of living in such a beautiful country if all I do is stare at a tv screen all day or look at the four walls in that place?"

"Miss, these are your brother's requests. I-"

"I don't care what he has to say; I'm walking out of here alone." Ok, maybe you were dramatic and obnoxious. Still, in your defense, being caged in for nearly two months was doing no help to your sanity.

"Mira," You opened the door wide open and noticed all of his men were looking at you. "I don't have time for this; I have more important things to deal with. If you're so determined to leave, arrange some calls with the president."

You looked back at him, stood there silently glaring at him because he and you both knew that the moment you called Caesar, he would tell you the same thing Carrillo has been telling you. You stood rooted in your spot for a few more seconds before his phone rang, and he picked it up.

"Bueno?" He answered the call, and, for half a minute, remained silent before telling you it was the president. Your face perked up with interest, and asked him to hand over the phone. You hadn't been able to speak to your brother all day yesterday and today. You were about to chew him out so well no wood chipper could ever come near as good as you.

But to your dismay, Carrillo agreed with your brother on something and soon hung up. "He wants to see you."

"Perfect!" You walked out the door before Carrillo could. You expected one of the soldiers to take you to your brother, so you stood in the middle of the room waiting for Carrillo to bark some orders to his men and take you to him. But you were surprised when Carrillo bumped shoulders with you, "Que, estas perdida princessa? (What are you lost, princess?)" before he turned and walked towards the front exit.

part 2

[idyoma]

The Best Ways to Learn a New Language

Some of the Best Ways to Learn a New Language

My name is Tamara and I have always been interested in languages, how people communicate and how we can interact even more by learning new languages. I was able to take an international exchange program in 2019 and I started taking this interest to a new level by learning and interacting with friends and people that I was lucky to get to know.

I continue studying and trying to learn from home and this is what inspired me to write this article to help more people achieve their language goals and share some of my favourite ways to learn a new language.

People often recognize that being multilingual is associated with career benefits, but did you know that language learning can also enhance your cognitive health? Too often, people graduate from school and leave foreign languages behind in the classroom. Yet, there are some surprising advantages to tackling language learning later in life, too.

As you learn a new language, you build up your communication skills, supercharge your brain with heightened activity in its language centers, and possibly even open yourself up to new work and travel experiences.  

Fortunately, today’s language learners have a wide range of instruction options, like Idyoma, that don’t tether them to a traditional classroom. Finding time to learn a new language outside the home can be difficult for people with full-time jobs and busy households. By learning a new language at home, you can adopt an instruction schedule that suits your time frame — and you can fit in practice when it’s most convenient for you. As you decide whether to embrace ESL or learn Japanese, Spanish, or French, keep the following information in mind to help you create a learning dynamic at home that supports your learning style. 

Best Ways to Learn a New Language

Benefits of being mulitlingual

Setting up your learning space

Top 10 tips for learning fast

Tips for teaching kids a second language

Why You Should Learn a New Language: The Benefits of Being Multilingual 

Although there are many new pastimes one might embrace — knitting or gardening, web design or data science — to fill time, learning a new language is both enjoyable and professionally useful. Today, the career marketplace is highly global.

Bilingualism and multilingualism can catapult your resume to the top of an employer’s list, especially if the company is international and relies on its multilingual staff to communicate across borders. Learning Korean or German can open up an entire range of job opportunities that you may never have thought of before. 

Of course, there are other benefits of learning a new language, too. Language learning actually enhances your mental health. As we age, our cognitive function can diminish just as our physical health can. But, language learning can reduce that cognitive decline, slowing its process as you forge new neural pathways.

When you learn a new language you can boost your ability to focus, keeping our minds alert and agile. Many people who engage in language learning report that the time they engage in the study actually improves their mood. As you focus on the enjoyment and challenge of your lessons, you’ll focus less on the stress of all things left undone, giving your mind the opportunity to recharge and rejuvenate from your usual anxieties and inner chatter.

Finally, you might opt to learn a new language so that you’ll be prepared to get out into the world and explore. Being multilingual makes you a more skillful traveler, building confidence and helping you navigate new, far-flung places for a grand travel experience. And learning a new language improves your communication skills — a core interpersonal and professional talent that’ll get you far in relationships, in business, and beyond.

 How to Set up the Ultimate Learning Space

Of course, before you start pricing hotels in Barcelona or Paris, you’ll need to begin language instruction. But before you hire a language tutor or sign up for an online class, prepare your learning space at home so that you have everything you need to support your learning goals conveniently in one area. If you have a home office, you can enlist that space to learn, but you don’t have to dedicate an entire room to your new initiative. A special niche in your bedroom, kitchen, or family room will also suffice. 

As you set up your language study area, you’ll want to ensure that it’s both quiet and comfortable. Distractions will prevent you from learning effectively. Opt for a space with good acoustics, since you’ll be doing a lot of language listening. Good lighting is important since you’ll be doing a lot of reading and writing. A desk or small table and comfortable chair are essential furnishings for your study area — but why not take your language learning space to an even more exciting level?

Whether you’ve opted to learn Hungarian or Turkish, why not set up your space with some international flair for inspiration? Add some travel posters to your wall, and keep a globe handy. Incorporate the spirit of your Spanish independent study with a Mexican blanket slung on your chair, or enhance your study of Chinese with some picturesque paper lanterns hung near your window. By creating a fun language learning space, you’ll have a special space with a retreat-like atmosphere that may very easily become your favorite place in the house.

 Top 10 Hacks to Learn a New Language

Once your study space is ready and you know what language you want to learn, it’s time to get down to business. Consider all the various applications available for learning a language at home. The following hacks will help you transform yourself into a multilingual virtuoso — or close to it! Keep them in mind as you develop your language learning goals and make your plan. 

Enroll in an online course

Formal instruction is a good option for individuals who prefer to learn a new language with a more-or-less traditional dynamic. If you’re concerned that independent study isn’t conducive to your learning style, consider this tried-and-true learning route. A formal course features highly structured lesson plans, assignment deadlines, and interaction with a teacher and classmates, albeit virtually. 

Download the app

You’ve probably seen the advertisements online for any number of language learning apps. Less formal than an online course, these apps still offer learners a rich level of instruction designed to help them progress at a clip. Apps are ideal for independent learners who don’t have time to meet consistently for an online class. 

Update your library card

Your local library system will have a wealth of materials to enhance your language-learning experience. Plan to borrow language dictionaries and picture books, novels, and even films in the language you’re learning so you can read, watch, and practice your listening skills. Check out materials in person or reserve them online and pick them up at your convenience. 

Quality earbuds, headphones, or speakers

When you’re learning to speak a new language, you need to be able to hear your learning materials clearly. A speaker that crackles or earbuds that cut in and out will compromise your learning experience. Plan to invest in quality listening devices so that you can hear instructors or your language learning app with crystal clarity. 

Use flashcards

Flashcards work for kids, and they will still work for you, too. In fact, if you have kids, you might want to enlist their help — invite them to quiz you on your German verbs after you quiz them on their multiplication facts. You can also find flashcard apps for literally any language you want to learn. 

Hire a language tutor

There comes a point when you might hit a stumbling block or a series of obstacles while learning a new language. Don’t despair! Check with area colleges, and engage a language tutor. This can be especially helpful if you’ve never learned a foreign language before or you want to stay on track and pick up speed as you move from beginner-level learning to the more complex, intermediate stages. 

Find a learning partner

Convince your bestie, spouse, partner, or friend to consider learning a language with you. When you have a partner, you can keep each other motivated and take turns studying at one another’s homes. Of course, ideally, you’ll want to find someone who’s just as enthusiastic about learning Russian or Portuguese as you are, so choose your language learning pal wisely. 

Listen to native speakers

One of the complaints that many students of languages have is that classroom and app models are too formal and not the stuff of everyday language you’ll hear on the streets of Rio, or Naples. Use your devices to track down native language speakers — like watching and listening to videos on the internet. This is particularly helpful if you plan to travel to the country whose language you’re learning.

Be kind and patient with yourself

Too often, people abandon their language pursuits because life interrupts them, and they find it difficult to resume their studies. Keep in mind that it’s okay to learn at your own speed and tempo. It may be asking too much of yourself to learn Italian in six months. If you need to adjust your goals, do it! The key is to keep going — and don’t be afraid to revisit old lessons when you need a refresher. 

Immerse yourself in culture

Language learning may seem tedious at times, especially if you’re struggling with tenses or complex sentence structures.

Maintain your motivation to keep learning by immersing yourself in the culture of the language. Learning Greek? Invite your best friend to a luncheon at your favorite Greek restaurant. Learning Spanish? Set Saturday nights aside for a tapas feasting! You’ll find that cultural immersion boosts your learning — and enriches your life.

Tips to Teach Kids a Second Language

Speak It 

If you speak a second or third language and you want your children to learn it, the first step is to speak it with them. Children learn through repetition. Consistency is necessary to develop a habit, so the more your kids listen to you speaking in another language, the easier it will be for them to grasp it.

Music

Just like for an adult, listening to music in a different language is one of the best tips to follow when trying to learn a new language. For both children and adults, starting with kid’s songs with easy and basic words can work best. 

Audiobooks 

For bedtime or nap time, you could aid yourself by using audiobooks. Following a story with the help of native speakers can work wonders for children to learn different intonations, accents, and vocabulary while also entertaining them.

Have fun

Doing fun activities in the language you are trying to teach your kids is another great way to help them grasp the language. If you grew up in another country, do you remember what activities you enjoyed when you were a child? You can plan a fun afternoon with games from your home country to do with your children. If this is not the case and you are just trying to teach your child to learn a new language, games with new vocabulary are always the best bet.

Video

Another good idea is to let them watch tv or movies in another language. Not only tv shows where they interact with the audience work, standard format movies, cartoons, and shows can help you at home, they don’t need to spend hours in front of a screen. This is only to aid you in the repetition, consistency, and the develop a habit side of the process. Remember it is important that they have access to other intonations, accents, and vocabulary for them to acquire the language faster. 

Space to Learn 

You can set up a special space for them to study. If they are being homeschooled, they would probably already have a designated space for their study work but if not, you can choose a corner in the kitchen, your home office, or their playroom for this purpose. 

Things to add to their study space:

Get them a small table or desk their size with chairs. 

Set up a whiteboard on the wall with markers for them to write down vocabulary words or to draw. 

Corkboards are great to stick images and vocabulary words to.

Shelves for their storybooks and dictionaries.

Be sure to have good light. 

Add color. Remember children’s classrooms are always colorful, this makes them feel in a fun and exciting environment. Bright colors stimulate the brain and can help children retain information.

Add storage. If you want to avoid clutter, add boxes or drawers for them to keep things they work with.

When is the best time to learn a language?

When young, human beings acquire new languages, they don’t actually learn them, so you could say the best age to learn a second language is as a young child. 

But even if it’s easier to learn languages as a kid, don’t get discouraged. Remember that you can achieve anything you set your mind to. It’s scientifically proven that learning a language as an adult can also have its advantages. As adults, we can follow and understand grammar rules, so learning in a more technical way is easier for adults than for children.

Learning a new language enhances your life in numerous ways while providing you with a marketable skill. As you learn a new language, you’ll develop new communication skills, keep your brain agile, and even discover new writers and artists to read and enjoy as you encounter them in your studies.

Before you know it, you’ll be fluent in the language of your choosing, and who knows where you could go from there?

Written by Tamara Segal

[kuramirocket]

Michel Ríos, 33, is a transgender woman from Mexico’s Veracruz state who lost one of her legs when she was seven. Ríos was forced to leave home at 15 and began to earn a living on the streets, alone.

She began to seek help after several years.

Ríos found Casa Refugio Paola Buenrostro, a shelter in Mexico City that Casa de las Muñecas Tiresias, a local advocacy group, runs. She first arrived with the intention of becoming sober through an Alcoholics Anonymous program, but she ended up staying to rebuild her life.

Kenia Cuevas, a renowned LGBTQ rights activist, founded Casa de las Muñecas after she witnessed the murder of her best friend, Paola Buenrostro, in December 2016 while they were both engaged in sex work. That tragic event was the final straw that motivated her to fight for her community.

Casa Refugio Paola Buenrostro opened its doors in January 2020.

“The mission of our organization is that those people who we welcome know their rights, that they can have a decent life, that they can understand life processes and we can rescue them from situations of vulnerability, of abandonment, when they believe that everything has been lost,” said Cuevas during an exclusive interview with the Washington Blade via Zoom.

International News Editor Michael K. Lavers visited the shelter on Saturday and met with Cuevas.

“In short, what we do is create living conditions in accordance with human rights,” said Cuevas. “We have managed to give visibility to all the problems that trans people face on a day-to-day basis and of which society was not aware.”

Casa de las Muñecas has offices in Mexico City and in Mexico, Nayarit, Morelos and Guerrero states. It has a team of professionals who carry out a variety of services for trans people that includes support for legally changing their identity, legal advice and education workshops.

“We are also entering prisons to provide legal literacy to transgender people, workshops on culture, sports, addictions,” said Cuevas. “When they are released we then rescue them and take them to the home to continue their social reintegration.”

Casa de las Muñecas’ Mexico City shelter is named in honor of Buenrostro. Casa de las Muñecas also plans to open two additional shelters — one in the Mexican capital and another in Mexico state.

Casa de las Muñecas served 1,800 people in its first year of operation, which was 2018. The organization, according to Cuevas, had worked with upwards of 10,000 people last year.

Ríos arrived in July 2020 amid the pandemic. She said the shelter and its residents are now her family.

“It is my home, a refuge from discrimination, violence, prostitution, drugs and alcohol,” Ríos told the Blade. “Staying here gives people the opportunity to grow, to achieve their dreams. It tells you that you can still dream. I am 41-years-old and I am dreaming. I am learning to dream here. The house has opened my horizons, it has given me the opportunity to be a different person.”

Ríos’ goal at the shelter is to learn the skills that will allow her to reintegrate into society. Ríos said she also hopes to help other people who may be in the same situation in which she was before she arrived.

“My goal is to finish my ‘prepa’ (high school diploma) and make a career for myself,” said Ríos, who hopes to become a designer.

This educational preparation is part of an intervention strategy that Casa de las Muñecas created in July 2020 to eliminate education disparities among the trans community.

“We do workshops aimed at economic autonomy, connecting them to the labor force,” said Cuevas. “It also allows for psychological support, access to health care, treatment for HIV or hormones, as well as the right to identity, either in their documents or the change of identity.”

Victoria Alejandra Arias, 33, a trans woman who is also from Veracruz state, learned while at the shelter that she is living with HIV. She was diagnosed at the shelter and now receives treatment.

Arias recalled she was in a desperate physical and mental state when a friend brought her to the shelter on Jan. 7. She has found purpose in her life after less than five months.

“We have several workshops here, we go out to do exercises,” Arias told the Blade. “My life has changed in every way. I have improved in the physical sense because I got too thin. My appearance is improving little by little. I know that I am on my way.”

“Women already have a profession because of all this support,” added Cuevas. “It will be easier for them to integrate themselves into society because they can come out (of here) a little more educated, empowered and know their rights and responsibilities.”

More than 20 people were living in the shelter when Cuevas spoke with the Blade. Canela and Leslie, two rescue dogs, also live at the shelter.

The Mexico City government pays the shelter’s rent and utilities, but donations that mostly come through social networks and people who provide furniture and other items support it. Cuevas donates around 70 percent of her salary.

“Our day at the house starts at 6 in the morning,” said Arias. “We make the bed, we bathe, we put on makeup and we go to our workshops, because part of this place’s goal is to re-educate ourselves.”

Ríos told the Blade the shelter offers English, theater, cosmetology, mathematics, Spanish, science and acting workshops.

“I’ve already imitated Paquita la del Barrio because I look a lot like her physically,” she said. “My favorite workshop is the theater — especially comedy — one because it goes great with my personality. The experience of acting is very beautiful. I have a lot of fun.”

Ríos said she and other workshop participants are preparing to premiere a play in December. She told the Blade they also perform at street festivals and in prisons.

Cuevas said she wants to open a headquarters for Casa de las Muñecas and a shelter in each of Mexico’s 32 states. Cuevas added she would like to expand her work throughout the rest of Latin America.

She said her greatest achievement is the gratitude and happy faces of those who have passed through the shelter.

“Thanks to this place I have regained my dignity,” said Ríos. “I want to live and, despite my disability and all the physical problems, I don’t let myself be defeated and I keep going.”

Arias, meanwhile, hopes to become a stylist “because I want to have a job.”

“I would like to finish my studies,” she said. “I see all those goals closer and stronger now and all that is for my life here. My greatest success is being clean and having goals in my life.” 

[sittingoverheredreaming]

Same Prompt Party- Rei

Like a Lion, Like a (Sacrificial) Lamb

This is a 2,500 word prequel to my first   two prompt party fics. My idea was probably a little too big for what I could pull off, but I hope you enjoy!

__________

“Looks like someone’s on the prowl,” Mina said, leaning against one of the shrine walls in the morning sun, coffee in hand.

“Shut up.” Rei handed her a broom. “Get to work or get out of here.” It was the weekend, Mina couldn’t just laze about. “And get changed, if you’re staying.”

Mina waved her off. “I’ll be out of sight before anyone comes, don’t worry. Grandpa has me selling charms later, I’m just waking myself up enough to get some studying in before that.”

Rei humphed and turned on her heel, but she felt the twinge of sorrow she felt anytime she was presented with Mina taking college seriously, the same twinge that had led her to abandon all her better judgement and allow Mina to live at the shrine while attending university. She hadn’t expected Mina would go to college at all, much less put real effort into it. Mina had joked that it was to give her an extra edge, a cool air, when she finally did become an idol, but Rei saw through the classes she was taking. Politics, law, languages-- not just her easy A in English but Mandarin and Spanish and at least one other Rei could not recognize. Whatever explanation she gave for each-- Well I’m going to have international fans!-- she wasn’t preparing for a life of celebrity. She was preparing to be second-in-command of the world.

Rei was sure Mina could sense Crystal Tokyo’s approach the same as she did. Not something she Saw, but something that she felt, like it was a lion hiding in the grass behind her, waiting to pounce. If she could only see it, she could face it head on, as was the Rei Hino way, blazing forward until she could bend the future towards a shape she liked better.

“And where are you going?” Mina called after her as she started down the stairs to the road. Rei didn’t answer. If she told Mina about her planned reconnaissance, Mina would want in on it. Rei did not have the time for self reflection on whether she thought Mina would ruin it or if she just wanted to shoulder it alone.

And when she arrived at the steps of the Tsukino house, she realized she also had not reflected on an excuse for being there. Usagi had her own home with Mamoru now. Ikuko would be happy to see her, Rei was sure, but still she would ask--

“Rei, I haven’t seen you in so long! What’s brought you here?” Ikuko smiled in the doorway.

Rei opened her mouth, then shut it, no lie forming on her tongue.

“I asked her to help me with a project for school,” Chibiusa said from somewhere inside, hardly missing a beat. “Stupid Usagi says she’s too busy.

“Oh, how wonderful. Have you had breakfast? I can make you something!”

Rei said she had, a lie coming easily now that it didn’t matter. Chibiusa led her up to the room that had once been Usagi’s. It still had a good bit of Usagi’s things in it, organized like they never had been while she had lived there. Rei had to look hard to see what Chibiusa had brought down from the loft to make it hers-- a few photos of Hotaru and Momo, a stack of books that weren’t Usagi’s manga, an extra pillow on the bed.

“You want to ask about Crystal Tokyo, don’t you?” Chibiusa said as soon as the door was closed.

“It’s coming soon.”

Chibiusa nodded, face grim. She looked less like a little girl everyday, it seemed. Rei knew she was already studying for highschool entrance exams, however unlikely it seemed that she’d be able to stay in this time for them. “You can’t stop it.”

“Why not?”

Chibiusa rolled her eyes and sat on her bed. “If you could, you would have the first time. None of you would have let all the destruction that leads to it happen.”

“But now we know it’s coming. And we have you.”

“You think I can tell you things you aren’t supposed to know?” Chibiusa leaned back and shut her eyes. “It’s taboo.”

“Pluto’s done plenty of taboo things.”

“But you don’t see her stopping any of this.”

“Don’t you want--” Rei stopped herself. Would Chibiusa want to stop Crystal Tokyo? It was her home, her birthplace and birthright.

“Of course I want to stop it,” Chibiusa whispered. “I’m here. If I was born here…” She shook her head. “But there’s no way for you to make that happen.”

“There’s always a way.”

Rei left with nothing, but she was nothing if not persistent. The next time Rei came, Chibiusa let slip that the battle that birthed Crystal Tokyo occurred in early spring, and on another day she mentioned how the Silver Crystal had changed the Earth itself into its likeness to draw in the power Usagi had needed to heal everyone in the aftermath. 

“That sort of healing changes things,” Chibiusa said, seemingly forgetting she’d said it was taboo. “Pluto said she thinks that’s why you all are so different from now.”

“Then just have to make sure we get through unscathed.”

“You can’t.”

“But knowing has to mean something. There’s never a future that can’t be changed.” Rei clenched her fists. “There’s no way I’m just letting this happen.”

“There’s no way you’re stopping it either.” Chibiusa crossed her arms against and leaned against the wall. “You can try all you want, or you can enjoy the time before it happens.”

“You said there’s hardly any time left.”

“Yeah, I did.” She looked murderous for a moment, but then her face softened. “You should take me for ice cream. You used to do that all the time.”

Rei nearly snapped that they were in no position to do anything of the sort, but she caught herself in time. The urge to scoop Chibiusa into her arms like she was small again overtook her anger. “I thought you were too old and cool to get ice cream with us.”

“Only Usagi.” Chibiusa stuck out her tongue. “She’d embarrass me for sure.”

Rei had to smile. “That’s true.”

She took Chibiusa to one of the many ice cream shops that had been the front for an evil scheme and then stuck around. Chibiusa stood on her toes to order from the ice cream case. She was taller than Usagi now, but only just. 

“How’s living with Mina?” she asked when they’d gotten their ice cream and taken it to a bench outside.

“Don’t even ask.”

“So you haven’t kissed her yet?”

“What!?” Rei nearly dropped-- or nearly threw-- her ice cream. If it had been Usagi and not Chibiusa, she might have thrown it at her. “I don’t--! What do you mean YET?”

Chibiusa laughed. “Darn, I bet Hotaru you would before everything goes down.”

“I don’t even… Mina? Really?” Rei shook her head and stabbed her spoon into her scoop of ice cream, leaving deep crevice lines across it. Her face was warm, and that was absurd. She refused to think about it. 

“You haven’t told her you’re trying to stop this either, then, have you?” Chibiusa kicked her feet up and down. “Didn’t you promise after the last time you had visions of the end of the world you wouldn’t keep these things a secret?”

“Well, I haven’t had a vision, and it’s not the end of the world. And,” Rei pointed at Chibiusa with her spoon, “you’ve hardly told me anything.”

Chibiusa pointed right back, for a moment the spitting image of her mother. “You’re just trying to save everyone from even worrying about it.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Rei set her ice cream aside. “She’s already worrying. She says she’s not, but she is.” She tilted her head back and stared up at the sky. “I want to fight this alone for her. For everyone. I know my own power, I know that if I can just find the right way to do it, I can take down whatever’s coming, and then everyone can live a life they choose. And if I can do that, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’d yell at anyone else trying to do the same thing.”

“No one else is me.”

Chibiusa made a sound that might have been a laugh and might have been a humph of annoyance and might have been both. “I guess I can’t argue that point.” She took a bite of her ice cream and sighed. “I’m starting to see why Usagi finds you so annoying.”

“Hey!” Rei tapped her fist between Chibiusa’s pig tails. Chibiusa stuck out her tongue, then hopped up off the bench and danced out of reach, laughing. Rei wasn’t sure if it was her own age or worry that held her back from giving chase.

And then, only weeks later, as the weather turned warm and green buds appeared on the trees, the cataclysm struck. The sky went dark and the air tasted of copper and a great distorted shadow brought forth monsters the likes of which they’d never fought from a deep crack in the earth. 

Mina gave orders, and Rei ignored them all to fight forward towards the source alone. She would stop this. She had to stop this. She blazed through the hordes of beasts, even as she grew aware that they were overwhelming the others behind her. She just had to get through and end it before it was too much. She could do it. She had too.

Rei almost didn’t hear Usagi’s scream over the hiss of the monsters and the crackle of her fire, but she felt it in her bones. A jolt of fear shocked cold from her fingertips to her heart. Usagi’s scream persisted. Rei was not getting through fast enough. She called on every spark of power she had to push forward and take down as many of the monsters as she could. She was a monster of her own, a great beast of fire, unstoppable in her hunt. The monsters fell by the dozens around her, coming in greater numbers, dying in greater numbers, the closer she got to their source. 

Still she did not burn them all. For every three that fell charred against the ground another two escaped smoldering, and others still skirted the range of her attacks.

Somewhere far behind her, Usagi stopped screaming. For one warm, beautiful second Rei thought she had done good enough, that the others might have been safe, and then the cold certainty that they were not settled in. Something inside her, Mars, her own psychic sense, she couldn’t be sure, knew that Usagi had been struck down, not dead but nearly, and any of the others that were not down yet would be soon.

Rei charged forward, but she knew-- Chibiusa had been right. She could not stop this. The great chasm the beasts poured from was in sight before her. Was it the same chasm the first crystal towers would rise from, when Usagi called on the Silver Crystal with the last of her strength? The shadow that had struck down from the sky had merged with the earth around the fissure, making it crackle with power that surged as she approached. It threw her back. The monsters absorbed it, growing immune to her fire.

A cold washed over her limbs. Her attacks weakened, more of her strength drawn for each one. She sank to her knees. She was going to fall, and awake as something that wasn’t quite herself, in a world that wasn’t quite her own. Rei clenched her fists against the ground. The shadows grew darker around her.

“I told you you couldn’t stop it.”

At once, a light appeared. Chibiusa stood at Rei’s side, one hand on Rei’s shoulder, the other holding her own Silver Crystal, using its power to drive back the beasts. Her hair blew wildly in the wind, her eyes were locked on the chasm.

Rei reached up to her. “Chibiusa…”

“But I can.” She glanced down at Rei and smiled. “I’ve been planning this for a while. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She took her hand off Rei’s shoulder and pulled her old Luna-P ball out of thin air. “You’d have tried to stop me.”

The exhaustion was creeping into Rei’s mind, she couldn’t put together what Chibiusa was going to do. “I’ll still stop you,” she said anyway.

“Yeah, I’m sure.” Chibiusa nudged her with her foot, and she fell over. Rei could not find the strength to get back up. “I know the life I want to choose, Rei.” Luna-P changed in her hand, forming the sharp, heavy shape of a gun. 

“What are you…?”

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to visit anymore after this, I don’t know if I’ll even…” She trailed off, and stepped toward the chasm. “Don’t tell Usagi, okay? Or Hotaru. Hotaru knows I might not come back, since I’m supposed to be born within a few years, and that’s enough, I think.”

She took another step. The earth groaned as it opened further, the crack spreading towards her.

Rei forced herself up onto her elbows. “Watch out-!”

“I know. Don’t worry.” Another few steps, another groan as the ground split further. Chibiusa had the same air of calm Usagi got when she used the crystal. Rei felt a compulsive trust in her even as her heart beat wild with fear. 

“Thank you, Rei, for trying to do this. And for the ice cream.”

The ground beneath Chibiusa opened to swallow her. As she fell, she threw the crystal into the air. A bang sounded barely a second before the earth closed, and the Silver Crystal shattered. For a moment the shards hung in the air as though frozen, and then a blinding white light exploded out from them. Heat and wind rushed over Rei, so overwhelming that she lost awareness of even her exhaustion, so intense that she thought the world might be ending after all.

And then it cleared, and she was in the middle of a Tokyo park on an early spring day, beneath a clear blue sky. Her sailor uniform was gone, replaced by the clothes she’d put on that morning. She felt none of the battle weariness that had plagued her moments before, she felt perfectly fine, except… there was something missing. There was something cold and empty where there once had been fire. 

Rei swallowed hard and looked behind her. The others were sitting up from the ground, entirely unscathed. Mina met her eyes, and even from a distance Rei could see that she felt it too. Their powers, the part of their soul that had housed them, were gone.

“Is it… is it over?” Usagi asked, tears in her eyes as Rei approached. “Did we win?”

Rei sat on the grass next to her, remembering the last thing Chibiusa had asked of her. She could never tell Usagi the cost. “Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile. “We did.”