#because it comes with the desire of wanting to protect baz

[sailorblossoms]

You could say that Simon being jealous and going absolutely feral over Baz comes from a place of insecurity, like Baz could "do better than him" and leave him, but the funniest part it's that Simon thinks Baz doesn't have a vibe check. He realizes now that his obsession with Baz was nothing but homosexual behavior, as into Baz as any being can ever get, and he notices Baz is still very surprised to learn Simon could never leave him alone because he liked him, obviously. And if Baz could never pick up The Vibes from the gold medalist in the "obsessing over Baz Olympics", what hope is there for him??? Clearly a guy could be all over him, trying to get him to join his vampire empire over milkshakes and he would be none the wiser. He's the most fuckable person alive (or otherwise) but he cannot see that other guys would find him hot?? Simon has even seen him being too diplomatic to beat the shit out of a creep overstepping and getting handsy, oh no, it was up to Simon to right the wrongs and stab the bitch who thought they could fuck with his boyfriend right in front of him. Truly Simon can never know any rest ever again.

[butlersxbirdy]

Don't Change A Thing For Me

Austin x curvy!writer!reader on set.

Some people start fetishizing y/n for her physical strength. Austin doesn't like this, and it brings things to the surface.

Warnings: mentions of possible sexual assault. Luke is a dick in this. I'm confident he's not in real life. My bad, Luke. My bad.

Let me know if you guys want more of this relationship, or if you want the filth that ensues once they're alone!

"I'm so glad you're here for this, the dialogue feels off to me," Baz says to you, rushing around the set of the International Hotel Showroom. This scene was a beast- not just for Austin and Baz, but for the writers room (of which you were a part from the beginning) and the set designers. As you walk through, thinking over what Elvis would have said to his new massive team of musicians and backup singers, you see a few of the crew struggling with some set pieces. Austin sees you looking and jogs over to you, jingling from the costume piece around his hips. You hear him coming but pretend not to notice, lost in talks with Baz after tearing your eyes away from the fumbling set workers.

Austin knew you've always been self conscious of your curves and your strength. You loved your body, but you didn't always love people's response to your size. Austin always thought you beautiful, but having seen you accidentally intimidate many lesser men over the years with your ability to handle yourself in every sense of the word, he's protective. For his part, he admired you, and your talents as a writer, which is why he'd been on board from the beginning with pretending you'd become friends on set instead of being close for decades.

"I don't want people thinking either of us didn't earn our place here," he said softly, fingers brushing through your hair on a hot night in Australia. Platonic though your friendship may be, he had noticed his thoughts wandering lately whenever you were in the room. He knew every curve and contour of your body...almost. He craved knowing all of you, like a constant low buzz of desire blurring the lines and making his head fuzzy. Today especially, his focus was stretched thin. Your loose band tee hanging off your shoulders and tight leggings made you look sexy and cozy in a way he couldn't stop thinking about. His arm settles around your shoulders as his thoughts wander, and you smile, leaning against him as you keep talking to Baz, and decide on running the rehearsal scene through until everyone is in sync.

"Which means you," you look at Austin at last, almost blinded by how good he looks in his Elvis persona, "Are in charge out there," you grin.

"I'm gonna make you proud," he grins and you are about to reply when Dacre, Luke, Olivia, and Xavier walk in. Olivia hurries over to you and rips you out of Austin's arms so she can give you a big hug. He tries not to be too put out about it, especially since Olivia bonded with you immediately, giving you another friend on the set when he was busy.

"Do you see that?" She whispers, pointing to the guys struggling with the set piece.

"Yeah... should I just go help?" You ask, and Baz, overhearing, looks at you.

"Yes please. Normally I'd say no because of unions, but...This is setting us back, I don't know why they can't move one part of the stage," he sighs, and you go over.

"Hey, guys, mind if I give it a go?" You ask, and when they nod, you show them how to lift it and take the lead position in lifting and removing the unnecessary slab of stage.

Austin watches the whole time, so in awe of how confident you are, but his mood sours when he sees the other members of the crew, and some of the other male actors on set, checking you out and whispering, making filthy gestures.

"Come on," he says harshly. "Knock it off guys, she's one of us, and she's helping out a lot more than she's asked," he glares.

"We were just messing around, man, whats the big deal? It's not like she's your sister," One of them says, and Xavier and Luke roll their eyes, but Luke looks a little lost in thought. If Austin didn't know better than to fight someone for your honor, he would have thrown hands right then and there. He wants to say as much to your group of hecklers when you come back into the room, but he's distracted by Luke. As though determined to ruin Austin's life, Luke comes over and gives you a hug before Austin can do anything about it. He lifts you up and spins you around, his hands low on your waist.

Austin, meanwhile, tries to focus on what Baz is telling him, but he can hear Luke saying something to you in a low tone. Something about dinner. He hears you say yes.

In that moment, Austin feels like he's going be sick. Olivia sees it, and steadies him with an understanding hand.

"Aust, Luke is a great guy, she'll be alright," she says softly and he nods, clenching his jaw and looking over the scene. When you return to Baz's side for the first run through, script on your lap, a light blush paints your cheeks but you're focused on the task at hand.

Austin, on the other hand, is a whole mess. Stumbling over his words, directing the orchestra into a frenzy of contradicting tempos and sounds, and even forgetting the words to the songs. After a bit, Baz yells cut and tells him to get his head together, and you rush to the stage. Worry spreads through you as you watch his jaw tremble like he's gonna puke and you reach out a hand to him. He dodges your touch and turns away from you.

"I want to help, Aust, let me..." you start, but he cuts you off.

"Why don't you comfort Luke? I'm fine without you," he snaps, and you drop your hand to your side.

"I don't know what's going on with you Butler, but get it together," you retort, turning on your heel and rushing to the first room you can find that felt familiar and had a comfy place to sit so you could cry. He'd never looked at you like that in the years you'd known him. He knew you could take anything he could dish out, and yet he was always tender. You hated this change in him so much, it made you want to crawl out of your skin.

Meanwhile, Luke comes up to Austin, completely oblivious to his mood and claps him on the back.

"Tough break," he laughs. "Guess she's too much woman for ya. Bet I'll be able to make her beg," he smirks and walks off to find you.

Austin is seeing red, stunned into inaction. How could Luke talk about you that way? He'd never known Luke to be the kind to treat anyone that way, like they are a challenge, and he thought Luke had at least seen tne real you; that you didn't submit easily to anyone, romantically or otherwise. From the tone of Luke's voice, and the gleam in his eye, Austin found himself terrified for you. He runs after Luke, taking him aside to set him straight.

"Luke, she's not that kind of girl. When you say you can make her beg... what do you mean?" He asks and Luke smirks.

"I have my ways," he replies, and walks off to makeup and hair, leaving Austin shaking and dry-heaving. When his legs stop shaking long enough, he storms away from the studio. He needs space, and to see you. He goes to his dressing room first to try to clear his head, slamming the door behind him, and jumps when the sound makes you shriek and fly off the couch.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know where to go, I'll just..." you stammer, avoiding his eyes so you wouldn't have to see him look at you like that again, but its too late. He's already seen that you've been crying.

"Oh, Y/n..." he sighs heavily, his voice rough with exhaustion. "Don't go, I was out of line" he asks quietly, one hand resting on the small of your back.

"Why did you get so mad? I want to have dinner with Luke, he's sweet, and handsome, and I've been on my own for too long," you explain tearfully, and he looks like he wants to throw up again.

"He's not sweet." The words come through gritted teeth, and Austin truly hates himself for saying it. His shoulders tense beneath the silk shirt, and you see his hands shake. "They were all checking you out, Y/N. They were whispering and pointing and talking about which one of them would dominate you the best. Who can make you beg. Luke thinks its gonna be him. He said he has his...ways," he grimaces. "I have a bad feeling he's gonna hurt you, and I know for certain that I don't know what I will do if that happens," he explains and when your nostrils flare angrily and you pull away to rip the door open and go kick Luke's ass, Austin holds you firmly against him.

"No. Don't go, I need you," he stammers.

"Now you need me?" You snap. "Seriously, Luke is a jerk, but for my money, you're not much better. You told me you don't need me, now you're not letting me go. And you're acting insane on set by the way," your words are like a slap in the face, and he jerks back, eyes closed as his head tilts up while he takes a deep breath. "You can't hear this, but I have to say it," he groans. "I was focused. I was in it. I had you there to watch over me, and then," he huffs out a petulant sigh. "He asked you out, and you said yes, and now my head is a mess."

"Why do you care, Austin?" You ask, reaching up and tilting his face so he is forced to look at you. "I can take care of myself, you know that. Don't let me distract you from your dreams. You worked so hard," you remind him gently. "If its not helpful for you to have me here, I can send someone else to set for writing stuff," you add, though the words break your heart. Was this the end of your years by his side? Would Elvis really come between you when up until this point it had brought you closer?

He seems to hear the questions running silently through your head, and he feels the same panic and sadness. He can't help but cradle you closer to him, wrapping his strong arms around you and rubbing your back.

"I'm sorry I was a dick, Mama..." his Elvis voice mixing with his own as he soothes you. "I need you with me, don't stop coming around just because I can't handle guys looking at what's mine," he hums and you freeze.

"Austin..." you breathe, feeling your skin flush and your legs shake. "I'm...I'm not yours..." you argue, but the words are uncertain, hardly daring to hope that he means what you think he means. He looks down at you, still in his arms. The hair and prosthetics have given him an outer shell of Elvis Presley, but his eyes when he looks at you are purely Austin. He leans in close, and bites his lip nervously before kissing you. He's timid at first, then he's practically drowning in you, gripping your ass and pressing his tongue between your lips in an intoxicating confirmation of his intentions. He pulls away, and looks you up and down.

"Sure you're not mine, Mama?" He asks, smirking, but his eyes betray him again. He is terrified you'll walk away, but he should know better. There was nothing that could take you away from him now even if you wanted to leave.

"I'm sure I'm not going on a date with anyone but you ever again... Daddy," you wink at him, trying to appear more together than you really are, but he sees your knees shaking. He lifts you up with ease, and for once in your life, you feel delicate. Cherished. Protected. Your heart melts for him as your legs come up to wrap around his waist, and he presses his clothed erection against your heat.

"Goddamn right, Mama... You're definitely mine now..." he kisses your neck and shoves your t shirt down to expose your chest. "Wanted you to myself for years... so fucking sexy..." he hums against your flesh, his ring clad fingers creating hot and cold sensations on your nipples as he plays with you gently. A moan echoes through the small dreessing room, and you're not sure if it came from you or him, but before anything else can happen, there's a knock on the door. You groan in frustration, and he takes a deep breath.

"What is it?" He asks, voice shaky and also impatient.

"Its Liv, you're needed back on set Aust, time to power through... I don't know what's going on with you and y/n but I know how much you love her. If you just tell her there's no way she'd ever go out with anyone else, I've seen her look at you," she says through the door. Austin looks up at you adoringly, a question on his lips. You nod, answering him silently, and he sets you down before opening the door for her and holding you close to him.

"Hi Liv," you giggle at the shocked but happy look on her face.

"Do I have to keep this a secret too?" She asks, practically vibrating with excitement. You and Austin exchange a look that turns into a brief but tender kiss, and as he holds you from behind, his hand gently rests on your neck.

"I don't think that's gonna be possible," he says with a low chuckle, and she rolls her eyes but hugs you both and leads you out into the studio space.

"All okay, Austin?" Tom asks, and Austin grins broadly.

"Yeah, I'm good now, bring it on Colonel," he winks and Tom laughs before finding his light for the introductory scene. Baz senses the shift in demeanor and looks relieved, ready to go again. Luke comes up to you the second Austin leaves your side, a cocky smile on his face.

"So, sweetheart, when can I pick you up for our date?" He asks, and in a flash, Austin is right beside you again, standing protectively between you and Luke.

"Oh, I forgot to mention, Mama," he says loudly, wrapping himself around you once more. "No more lifting on set. Can't have my baby girl getting stared at. And absolutely" he pauses and gently brushes his fingers against your lower lip, "no dates with anyone else. Daddy says so," he winks and kisses you, dipping you low before pulling you back up, and kissing you quickly three more times, unable to pull himself fully away. When he finally does take his position on stage, you can still feel his lips on yours. You walk away from Luke without a word, taking your seat next to Baz.

"About time, love," you hear him say before he calls action. This time, Austin nails the scene perfectly, and when Baz calls cut, you find yourself swept off your feet. Austin picks you up and carries you back to his dressing room, leaving the stares and whispers behind. Nothing mattered to him, except you.

[confused-bi-queer]

Hello, everyone!! I’m back!!

I’m going to share something personal now, so the SSS is below. I’ve been hating myself lately, mostly because of my shitty habits of eating garbage but also because of my writing. I’ve been feeling like I should stop writing and give up because there are 1736373 stories better that mines and people who’d write them better than me. So, that’s why I’ve been absent, trying to not listen to my own head and trying to get out of that hole. I am SO good right now, so no need to worry (I’m keeping good habits now!)

BUT, god, there’s another story coming. I started writing like 10 years ago, mostly stories super exaggerated about my own life and issues and myself trying to cope with my insecurities and my unheard wishes. But on 2018 I had like this huge ass writer block due to a heartbreak. For the first time ever I couldn’t write, it felt so wrong because I was always writing. Then on 2020, I took advantage of the pandemic and forced myself into writing something that wasn’t sad or about my own life, (and I did! I have OCs and all) but I still couldn’t help writing about my ex because he was all I wrote about back then. AND THEN THIS THURSDAY, I found a note I had written on 2020 that was saved on iCloud, and my first thought was that it’d be cringe because it was about this guy BUT FUCKING HELL, IT WAS NOT. IT WAS FUCKING MIND-BLOWING. I was so SURPRISED when I read that because back then I was feeling like shit and had no desire or energy to write and I still wrote a hell of a story. If that didn’t inspire me, nothing else would.

And it did. It inspired the hell out of me and made me remember that every single second, I get better. And this is for everyone who feels like their writing is shit and that they should give up because no one will read them, IT IS NOT TRUE. Whatever bad thoughts you have about yourself, your worth, abilities, writing or art, it is not true. You will get better by the second and you’ll keep on learning and someone will like what you do (even if it’s yourself 2 years from now). You are not a shit artist.

So, I managed to write because I COULD NOT WRITE AFTER THAT. I also forgot what the thrill of writing was: for my enjoyment. I do write to publish them, but it’s been feeling like an obligation rather than a hobbie and it didn’t feel good this last week and a half. So, I remembered that writing is for me, because I want to and I enjoy and love it!

So, I’m back on my Simon Hanahaki AU for the angst and because me from years ago was so strong and talented, I admire her for that and I owe her to believe in myself.

“Crowley, Snow, what is wrong with you?”

This time when he coughs, I genuinely consider the sound being a growl since it wouldn’t pass him to communicate through animal noises since he already does it. But it’s not a growl. And it’s not another regular cough. I wish it was more screaming or hurtful accusations. Anything but this.

When he coughs on his hand, a few petals fall from his mouth.

“No,” I hear myself saying.

I take a step back.

“Baz?”

“No, no , no.”

I shake my head and head out of our room, hoping that will make this fake. This is all a dream. It must be. It has to be.

“Baz, where are you going?”

I brush my hands through my hair and resist the urge to pull it the same way Snow does.

It’s the closest you will ever get to him from now on.

“No.”

I leave the room and punch a hole in the closest wall on my way down the stairs. When I hear Snow trailing behind me, there’s no wall that seems more deserving of a punch than him. And there’s no Anathema out here to protect him.

Ah, yes, Baz not knowing how to deal with his emotions and therefore hitting the love of his life❤️

Now tagging: @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @artsyunderstudy @wellbelesbian @qyx @takitalks @martsonmars @castawaypitch @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @yellobb @moodandmist @palimpsessed @urban-sith @sharing-a-room-with-an-open-fire @ionlydrinkhotwater @johnwgrey @cutestkilla @ileadacharmedlife @fatalfangirl @forabeatofadrum @letraspal @facewithoutheart @foolofabookwyrm-activated @captain-aralias @bookish-bogwitch @nightimedreamersworld @underworld-capcakes @samalander01 @dragoneggo @sillyunicorn @angelsfalling16 @annabellelux @ic3-que3n @whatevertheweather @bazzybelle @tea-brigade @aristocratic-otter

[facewithoutheart]

to be devoured

[brobelove, ~700 words, Mature, poetic, smut-adjacent]

Agatha considers who she is, who she was, and who she wants to be.

My whole body shivers when she nips at the sensitive juncture of neck and jaw. Maybe this is what I wanted from Baz, those years I thirsted after him while he hungered for Simon:

To be devoured.

Read on AO3 or under the break:

Niamh presses me into the mattress, her weight a counterpoint to the way I want to flee from her touch, hide from the way she’s shaking me apart. Shaving off my rough edges.

Softening me up.

I hate it. I love it. I thread my fingers through the soft hairs at the base of her neck, bringing her mouth down to my porcelain neck; a blank canvas for the colours she sucks into me. Marks onto me.

Makes me hers.

My whole body shivers when she nips at the sensitive juncture of neck and jaw. Maybe this is what I wanted from Baz, those years I thirsted after him while he hungered for Simon:

To be devoured.

Because I’ve felt chewed up for years, chafing against the veneer of thin and pretty and white and girl that my mom always said meant I could have whatever I wanted so long as a man gave it to me.

And now it’s Niamh who delivers the killing blow.

God. I want her to fuck me up so my outside matches what’s within.

Her hands clasp below my waist, nearly covering my whole hip with the breadth of them. She pushes thick fingers along the band of my pants.

Slips down until she feels the way I’ve soaked through the silk.

I’m ravenous. I’m a mess she shouldn’t have to clean up and yet she kisses her way down my body like I’m dessert, moaning in a way I won’t, uninhibited in a way that almost makes me feel embarrassed for her.

I press two palms into my eyes. I hide from the pleasure I’m feeling, the pleasure she’s giving me.

There’s an animal inside me she’s trying to wake up, I’m trying to trap, I’m trying to become, I’m trying to run.

I’m trying.

“Ags,” she whispers, “I’ve got you.”

I feel like I could slip through her fingers.

“Let go.”

I’m all twisted up in the ribbons of what I’ve been taught.

“It’s me,” she says, pulling down my pants, kneeling before me on pink sheets, reverent and loving.

She laps at the proof of what I feel, swallows the evidence.

Keeps it inside. Keeps me inside.

“Niahm.” Her name’s a small sound on my lips, a shout from my heart.

She holds me down. She’s an anchor.

I’m drowning.

The French call it the little death. La, preceding a feminine noun.

I come with a shudder. Me, preceding her.

I’m a mess that she’s made.

(I hate that I love it.)

Niamh wraps me up in her arms as I come down from my release, long inhales and exhales to mask the hard-pulsing beat in my chest. She nuzzles at my neck, kisses the places where her teeth have left imprints. Next time, she’ll break the skin, if I ask.

There was a time I felt if anyone stripped away my layers of protection I’d dissipate like cotton candy in the rain. Like that’s all I’ve ever been: sugar-coated fluff covered in thick makeup.

Niamh can cover me with her whole body. She does. She presses me down into the mattress. She’s shaken me apart. She’s shaved off my rough edges.

She’s remade me stronger.

Sturdy.

I flip Niamh over so this time I’m on top. My naked body covers hers. I press down. I make her feel me, all of me, everything I’ve always been, everything I’ve always hidden, everything I’m aching to become.

Turnabout’s fair play.

Her whole body shivers when I suck at the sharp line of her jaw and I wonder: is this what she ached for, when she shoved past me on green grass, pretended to forget my name?

My hand slips past the elastic of her cotton boxers. I thread my fingers through the coarse hair I find there, let them pierce the slick heat of her desire for me. I don’t need anyone but Niamh to give me this, this power. This pleasure.

This woman.

“Please,” she whispers. “Agatha, please.”

I bite her neck to stifle the moans in my throat. I press two fingers inside.

I devour her.

[potionsprefect]

They Gave Today for Their Tomorrow

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Ethan goes to visit Danny and Bobby’s bodies in the morgue

Category: angst

He had promised her he would be there when she wakes up, that he would not let her take her last breath. That she would come back to him and be able to hug him without a plastic barrier.

Ethan slipped out the room for just a few minutes to check on the team. They were working as fast as they could. Developing cures took months. But tonight they had only hours.

The maitotoxin was spreading rapidly through Victoria’s body and with Rafael slipping into a coma within the last few hours, time was running out. The team were determined not to be beaten. They knew what is was, now it was all about putting their minds together and finding a cure.

As Ethan headed back to Victoria’s room he suddenly stopped by the elevator. He glanced at it, debating silently whether he should go see them. He had visited many dead bodies in the morgue before, but when it’s one of your own it hits differently.

Before he could change his mind, Ethan entered the elevator and pressed the button. The doors shut and the elevator headed down.

Ethan took deep breaths to try and calm himself down. The last few hours had been the worst moments of his life and the worst could still be around the corner. He tried not to think about it, but the longer the minutes crawled by, the more he couldn’t get it out of his head.

If Victoria didn’t survive this, Ethan wouldn’t know what he would do. He was sure as hell he couldn’t move on from her death. Not being able to see her everyday would be torture.

He knew that his life wasn’t worth living if she wasn’t in it.

Ethan didn’t even register the doors of the elevator opening until they nearly shut. Prying them open, he slowly walked down the hall. He regretted this path the minute he saw the nurses station.

He saw Sarah and Marlene sat by the desks, their tear streaked faces looking up at him. Ethan couldn’t bare to look them in the eye. He couldn’t save Danny.

And because of that, Ethan believed he could never earn their forgiveness.

He headed down the stairs to the morgue, each step feeling heavier than the last. The required protection was stationed outside the door. Ethan slowly put the clothes on, his hands trembling, his breathing becoming heavier.

Desperate to try and regulate his breathing he leaned against the wall and sunk to the ground. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes and Ethan couldn’t care less about holding them back. With a strangled cry, the tears overflowed, rolling down his cheek one by one.

How did it come to this? How did any of this happen? One minute Victoria was in the diagnostics room helping solve the case, then she was trapped in her own bubble, fighting to stay alive. How did she become entangled in Travis’ revenge plan, his desire to hurt the Senator so powerful, he put other lives in danger?

Ethan wasn’t sure how long he had been sat on the floor until he saw a figure out the corner of his eye sit down next to him.

“They were not suffering Ethan, no matter what you might think.” Naveen said quietly, laying a hand on Ethan’s shoulder.

“They... they were innocent. They should never have gotten mixed up in all this.” Ethan sobbed.

“No one should have. This is all one tragic situation. But you need to stay strong. There’s someone upstairs who needs you. Who needs you to stay strong for her.” Naveen said softly.

Ethan looked at his mentor, his outline blurry due to his tears. No matter how much of an impression he puts on for the hospital, for two people, he breaks those walls completely.

And right now, this person was crumbling right before Naveen’s eyes.

“What if she doesn’t make it Naveen? What am I going to do without her?” Ethan said.

“She has seen and experienced a lot since she came to Boston. And I think this is just another obstacle in her way. But obstacles are there to be defeated and Victoria has seen off many obstacles before that another one won’t hurt her.”

“But this is different. This obstacle is life or death. And this might be too big a hurdle to climb.” Ethan said wiping the tears from his face.

“No matter how big the hurdle is to climb, there is always a way over it. If you have hope, then cling onto it, as if it’s all you have left.” Naveen said.

The words sank into Ethan. Victoria had dealt with many issues since arriving in Boston a year ago and she faced them all with her head held high. She was a fighter and if she was allowed to give up now, she would never forgive herself.

Ethan wiped his eyes and put on the protective helmet. He slowly opened the door to the morgue.

They looked so peaceful, Ethan thought as he gazed at the two bodies in front of him. As if they were about to wake up from a deep sleep.

But he knew they were asleep for eternity now. No one could try and hurt them anymore.

“I’ve never properly said thank you for what you did.” Ethan said quietly. He knew they couldn’t hear him. Or maybe they could. Maybe their ghost was in the room right now and Ethan was oblivious to it.

“You should never have gotten caught up in all of this. You and Victoria and Rafael are innocent victims to a terrible crime.” Ethan could feel his eyes filling up with tears. “You were brave, you looked Travis in the eye and took him on.” He looked at Bobby. “You wouldn’t let him win and he didn’t.”

He then looked at Danny. He had always thought of Danny as a brilliant nurse who was kind to his patients and the newest recruits to Edenbrook. “You were there for Victoria when others weren’t. You were kind to her when the rumours got out of control. For that I’ll always be grateful. You were there for her when I... when I couldn’t be.” Ethan didn’t even try to hold back tears. He took a deep breath and continued. “You made patients feel safe and calm, when things were complicated. They always said to me how nice you were. I’ve never really understood it until now. Now that you’re... not here to tell me yourself.”

The silence echoed throughout the room and there was a pounding ringing sound in Ethan’s ear. He could feel his tiredness catching up with him, it became difficult to stand on his own two feet.

He had said what he wanted to say. He wanted them to know how grateful he was for their sacrifice. That them putting themselves in the way of danger was the bravest thing they had ever done. And there was an entire group of staff and other friends and family who were eternally grateful.

Slowly, Ethan opened the door and took off the protective clothing. He made his way back to Victoria’s room, ready to hold her hand throughout the rest of the night and ensure she woke up in the morning.

He sat down in the chair next to her bed and smiled at her sleeping form. She was still breathing. She was still here.

— — — — —

He held it in his hands. The cure to save Victoria. He tried to steady his hand as much as he could.

“Ready?” Baz asked.

“It’s now or never. Let’s do this.” Victoria said, a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Smoothly, Ethan dispensed the serum into her vein. A sense of relief washed over him once he removed the needle.

“And now we wait. And hope.” June said.

The next few hours crawled by slowly. It was as if time was playing a game with him, making this ordeal drag out far longer than it should be.

For what felt like the 50th time that day, a set of results printed out. Ethan practically ripped it from the machine as he scanned the results. He read it through a couple times, making sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

She was in the clear. There was no trace of the toxin left in her system. Not wanting to keep the results to himself for long, Ethan sprinted out the lab and down the hall, he passed June and Baz and a simple nod of his head told them the answers they wanted. He couldn’t stick around for the reaction. He had to get to Victoria.

He reached the outside of her room and strode through the decontamination tent with newfound confidence. “Get up.” He grinned.

“You mean?” Her eyes widened with hope.

“It worked! There’s no trace of the toxin left in your bloodstream. Even if there are still traces in the room we now know that we can- oh!” Ethan didn’t get to finish his sentence as Victoria ran straight into his arms.

“What you’re saying is I’m now finally free to do this?” She grinned looking up at him.

“Yes.” He grinned back tightening his arms around her.

He could feel fresh tears of relief rolling down his face as he hugged her. He looked up momentarily, he wasn’t the most religious person but he knew they were watching with relief as well. He simply mouthed two words.

Thank you.

— — — — —

All aboard the angst train!

This idea came to me at 12am and I had to write it.

Tag list: @ohchoices @openheartfan

[tyrannuspitch]

malcolm is actually very interesting, in what little we see of him, though.

like, it would be so easy to write him as just straightforwardly cold and severe. like the mage but without even the intense charisma or interesting backstory to go with it.

but instead it’s made clear that malcolm is a) human and b) likeable.

malcolm does his best to charm penny and agatha, and it might not exactly work on either of them (bc they’re cynics with a prejudice against the pitches), but... it almost works on simon. like, maybe it would, if it were directed at him. he doesn’t see anything terribly sinister in it at that point, just politeness - only later, when he’s alone with the pitches, does he start talking about not knowing what’s going on behind their eyes.

and baz... baz is definitely nervous around malcolm when it comes to emotional vulnerability. but the fear of outright rejection is buried pretty deep. on the surface, almost all of it is about a positive desire to impress him. to be like him. like, he genuinely admires him in many ways - particularly his elegance and self-control - and is proud of himself when he feels like he’s managing the same.

being a grimm/pitch is like being in a secret club. baz gets to see past the outward charm to the more honest cool aloofness, and that feels like intimacy, even though there’s still no vulnerability happening. it’s a different kind of charm, where they can all convince each other that their family just doesn’t do vulnerability. they don’t need it.

(he gets to know their secrets without even being told. that’s fucking weird and he knows it, but he still feels proud.)

but anyway - i don’t think malcolm is thinking of this in calculated terms. it’s all about protecting family dignity and secrecy and so on, but like... it *is* extremely important for baz to be able to keep a secret, to be charming, to have a good poker face. he’s not just protecting the family, these are survival skills for him. it’s not wrong to teach them.

what is wrong is that they’ve been taught indirectly, with the threat of shame/rejection as part of the teaching process, and that there is never a moment where these walls can come down.

but those are malcolm’s own neuroses at work. there’s an element of perfectionism to it - surely these skills will be more fully developed if he can just infer them without being told, no-one ever had to be told in my day - but also just straightforward fear. he’s given baz a mask and it’s been so long that he doesn’t want to know what’s underneath. i don’t think he actually believes the worst of baz, but... maybe he fears it? he knows he’s taught these skills well, and that he might well just not know if baz were not at all the kind of person he wants him to. he’s taught baz to hide from everyone to protect him, and now he’s uncomfortable because he’s realised “everyone” includes him.

[multiverseforger]

Edit

In November 2013, Marvel Comics announced that Kamala Khan, a teenage American Muslim from Jersey City, New Jersey, would take over the comic book series Ms. Marvel beginning in February 2014. The series, written by G. Willow Wilson and drawn by Adrian Alphona, marked the first time a Muslim character headlined a book at Marvel Comics.[2] However, Noelene Clark of the Los Angeles Times noted that Khan is not the first Muslim character in comic books, which include Simon Baz, Dust and M.[3] The conception of Kamala Khan came about during a conversation between Marvel editors Sana Amanat and Stephen Wacker. Amanat said, "I was telling him [Wacker] some crazy anecdote about my childhood, growing up as a Muslim American. He found it hilarious." The pair then told Wilson about the concept and Wilson became eager to jump aboard the project.[4] Amanat said that the series came from a "desire to explore the Muslim-American diaspora from an authentic perspective."[5]

Artist Jamie McKelvie based Khan's design on his redesign of Carol Danvers as Captain Marvel and on Dave Cockrum's design of the original Ms. Marvel.[6] Amanat requested that the design "reflected the Captain Marvel legacy, and also her story and her background."[7] Amanat stated that Khan's costume was influenced by the shalwar kameez. They wanted the costume to represent her cultural identity, but did not want her to wear a hijab,[8] because the majority of teenage Pakistani-American girls do not wear one.[9] Amanat also stated that they wanted the character to look "less like a sex siren" to appeal to a more vocal female readership.[8]

Marvel knew that they wanted a young Muslim girl, but stated that she could be from any place of origin and have any background. Wilson initially considered making her an Arab girl from Dearborn, Michigan but ultimately chose to create a Desi girl from Jersey City.[10] Jersey City, which sits across the Hudson River from Manhattan, has been referred to as New York City's "Sixth borough".[11][12][13] It therefore forms an important part of Khan's identity and the narrative journey of her character since most of Marvel Comics' stories are set in Manhattan. Wilson explains, "A huge aspect of Ms. Marvel is being a 'second string hero' in the 'second string city' and having to struggle out of the pathos and emotion that can give a person."[14]

The series not only explores Khan's conflicts with supervillains but also explores conflicts with Khan's home and religious duties. Wilson, a convert to Islam, said "This is not evangelism. It was really important for me to portray Kamala as someone who is struggling with her faith." Wilson continued, "Her brother is extremely conservative, her mom is paranoid that she's going to touch a boy and get pregnant, and her father wants her to concentrate on her studies and become a doctor."[4] Amanat added,

As much as Islam is a part of Kamala's identity, this book isn't preaching about religion or the Islamic faith in particular. It's about what happens when you struggle with the labels imposed on you, and how that forms your sense of self. It's a struggle we've all faced in one form or another, and isn't just particular to Kamala because she's Muslim. Her religion is just one aspect of the many ways she defines herself.[2]



First appearance of Kamala Khan from Captain Marvel #14 (August 2013) by Kelly Sue DeConnick and Scott Hepburn

In the series, Khan takes the name Ms. Marvel from Carol Danvers, who now goes by the alias Captain Marvel. Captain Marvel writer Kelly Sue DeConnick revealed that Khan actually made a brief appearance in Captain Marvel #14 (August 2013) saying, "Kamala is in the background of a scene in Captain Marvel 14 ... She is very deliberately placed in a position where she sees Carol protecting civilians from Yon-Rogg."[15] According to Wilson, Khan idolizes Carol so when Khan acquires superhuman abilities, she emulates Danvers.[14] "Captain Marvel represents an ideal that Kamala pines for. She's strong, beautiful and doesn't have any of the baggage of being Pakistani and 'different,'"[4] Wilson explained. "Khan is a big comic book fan and after she discovers her superhuman power – being a polymorph and able to lengthen her arms and legs and change her shape – she takes on the name of Ms. Marvel," Amanat elaborated.[16] Khan is one of several characters who discover that they have Inhuman heritage following the "Inhumanity" storyline, in which the Terrigen Mists are released throughout the world and activate dormant Inhuman cells.[17]

In the series' first story arc, Khan faces off against Mr. Edison / the Inventor, an amalgam of man and bird. Wilson created the Inventor to be Khan's first arch rival in order to mirror Khan's own complexity. Wilson characterizes the Inventor, and the overall visual look of the opening story arc as "kooky and almost Miyazaki-esque at times", owing to the art style of illustrator Adrian Alphona, which balances the drama of the threats which Khan faces with the humor of Alphona's "tongue in cheek sight gags." During the storyline, Khan also teams-up with the X-Man Wolverine against the Inventor. Because Wolverine is dealing with the loss of his healing factor during this time, Khan is placed in the position of having to shoulder much of the responsibilities, as Wilson felt this was a role reversal that would subvert reader expectations that Wolverine would take the lead in such a team-up.[18]

At the 2014 San Diego Comic-Con International, writer Dan Slott announced that Khan would team-up with Spider-Man beginning in The Amazing Spider-Man #7 (October 2014) during the "Spider-Verse" storyline. Slott characterized Khan "the closest character to classic Peter Parker,"[19] explaining, "She's a teenage superhero, juggling her life, making mistakes, trying to do everything right."[20]

Beginning in June 2015, Ms. Marvel tied into the "Secret Wars" crossover event with the "Last Days" storyline, which details Khan's account of the end of the Marvel Universe. Wilson explained, "In the 'Last Days' story arc, Kamala has to grapple with the end of everything she knows, and discover what it means to be a hero when your whole world is on the line."[21] In the storyline, Khan rushes to deal with the threat in Manhattan. However, Wilson revealed, "She will face a very personal enemy as the chaos in Manhattan spills over into Jersey City, and she will be forced to make some very difficult choices. There will also be a very special guest appearance by a superhero Kamala—and the fans—have been waiting to meet for a long time."[22]

In March 2015, Marvel announced that Khan will join the Avengers in All-New All-Different Avengers FCBD (May 2015) by writer Mark Waid and artists Adam Kubert and Mahmud Asrar, which takes place in the aftermath of "Secret Wars".[23] A second volume of Ms. Marvel starring Khan by Wilson, Alphona and Takeshi Miyazawa is also debuted following "Secret Wars" as part of Marvel's All-New, All-Different Marvel initiative.[24] Amanat said,

By the time this new launch comes around, it will have been almost two years since the premiere of Ms. Marvel—and boy, has Kamala Khan been through a lot since then. She's been slowly coming into her own, dealing with the challenges of navigating adulthood and being a super hero. But her training is over now and it's time for the big leagues; the question is can she handle it? ... As much as Kamala has a right to be there—it's still a bit of a culture shock. Dreaming of being an Avenger and then suddenly being one is a lot to take on for someone of her age. So, she'll be a little awestruck, a little overly ambitious.[25]

In March 2016, Marvel announced that Ms. Marvel would tie into the "Civil War II" storyline by releasing a promotional image illustrating a rift between Khan and Danvers.[26] "While "Civil War II" may have initiated this rift, we've known for some time that Kamala would eventually need to separate herself from her idols. Her journey centers around self-discovery and identity, and a part of that exploration includes separating yourself from those you put on pedestals. The rift between Carol and Kamala doesn't really have to do with right and wrong. It has to do with growing up and realizing that you perceive the world differently from even the ones you love," Amanat elaborated.[27]

In July, Marvel announced that Khan will join the Champions, a team of teenage superheroes who split off from the Avengers following the conclusion of "Civil War II". The team, featured in a series by writer Mark Waid and artist Humberto Ramos, consists of Khan, Spider-Man (Miles Morales), Nova (Sam Alexander), Hulk (Amadeus Cho), Viv Vision, and a teenage version of Cyclops. Waid said, "The first three are the kids who quit the Avengers proper. That was an easy get. Those three, in and of themselves, form a nice little subteam. Their dynamic is great. They all show up in each other's books, and even though they have their arguments and stress points, clearly they're good together."[28]

In August, Khan made an appearance in Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur #10 by writers Amy Reeder and Brandon Montclare. In the issue, Khan acts as a mentor to Moon Girl (Lunella Lafayette) who is also a young Inhuman that suddenly came into her powers. Amanat stated that Khan sees much of herself in Lafayette and by teaching her, Khan learns much about herself.[27]

In November, Marvel announced that Khan will join a new incarnation of the Secret Warriors in a series by writer Matthew Rosenberg and artist Javier Garron that debuted in May 2017. The team, formed in the wake of the "Inhumans vs X-Men" storyline, also includes Quake, Karnak, Moon Girl, and Devil Dinosaur. Rosenberg stated that there is some conflict and friction amongst the team members explaining, "Ms. Marvel and Quake are really fighting for the soul of the team in a lot of ways, while Moon Girl will continue to really do her own thing. They will all be tested and challenged, they are superheroes after all, but they are going to do things their way."[29]

In March 2017, Marvel announced that Khan would team-up with Danvers in a one-shot issue of the limited anthology series, Generations by Wilson and Paolo Villanelle. Wilson stated that the issue would explore Danvers' and Khan's mentor–student relationship, but "at its heart, [it] is about growing up, and a big part of growing up is discovering that your idols have feet of clay – and forgiving them for their flaws as you gain an adult understanding of your own."[30]

In December, Ms. Marvel began the "Teenage Wasteland" story arc, as part of the Marvel Legacy relaunch. Wilson said, "Since the events of 'Civil War II', there's been friction between Kamala and her mentor, Captain Marvel. In this arc, we're exploring how complicated legacies can be when they're passed from generation to generation ... She's questioning a lot about herself and her mission. Her friends end up stepping into some very important—and unexpected—roles. So in a sense, the arc is really about a bunch of chronically under-estimated teenagers who pull together to fight evil."[31]

Ms. Marvel #31, the 50th issue of Ms. Marvel featuring Khan was released in June 2018. To mark the occasion, Marvel brought in additional collaborators for the issue including writers: G. Willow Wilson, Saladin Ahmed, Rainbow Rowell, and Hasan Minhaj; and artists: Nico Leon, Bob Quinn, Gustavo Duarte, and Elmo Bondoc.[32]

Beginning in March 2019, Khan headlined a new series titled, The Magnificent Ms. Marvel, written by Ahmed and illustrated by Minkyu Jung. Wilson stated that she had been planning her departure from the series for over a year, stating that she originally anticipated that the series would only last for ten issues and was excited by the fact that she had written 60 issues. Ahmed said the new series will have much wider scope, "while still maintaining that intimate tone that people have loved about it."[33]

In July 2020, Marvel announced that Khan would star in an original graphic novel, published in conjunction with Scholastic and aimed at younger readers. The book will be written by author Nadia Shammas. An illustrator has not yet been named.[34

[heeytwelve]

A mundanity that creeps into your very soul

Insidious Humdrum is he most intriguing and controversial character in Simon Snow books. It also one of the main characters of “Carry On” book, and, (as unpopular opinion) - he is still appears in “Wayward Son” - he mentioned by Simon, Agatha, Penny, Baz multiple times as nightmarish memories. 

I believe Humdrum will make his appearance in third book and I want to dig on why he is so important in “Carry On” set and why Simon might be not quite done with him.

Humdrum is “official” antagonist of the first book, the prophesy which gave Simon “The Chosen One” title also implies that his only mission in life is to banish the Greatest Threat of World of Mages.

It’s important to notice that Simon himself is not really invested in fighting Humdrum, he strangely detached from his life mission:

“When the Humdrum comes after me, I fight him. When he sends dragons, I kill them. When you trick me into meeting a chimera, I go off. I don’t get to choose or plan. I just take it as it comes. And someday, something will catch me unawares or be too big to fight, but I’ll fight anyway. I’ll fight until I can’t anymore—what is there to think about?”

Excerpt From: Rainbow Rowell. “Carry On.”  Think about it - he never create strategies, he never tries to understands what is it he tries to fight with, he never initiate the battle, he accepts battles, when he can’t avoid them.  You’d think that he just escalate this part of job to The Mage, but then, (say to compare with HP) he doesn’t exactly bothers The Mage with questions or he doesn’t try to find out what Humdrum behaves like this and what is he plotting. 

Oh, yes, plotting. See, we could say  - you know, Simon is just like this, he’s quite passive, he hates to think or take action, but it’s untrue. Simon, in fact, has 3 antagonists: first one is Humdrum, which was given to him, second one is Mage (which as Voldemort in HP both created him and destroyed) and third is the only one antagonist he actually chose - Baz, the handsome vampire. Because Simon chose him (and Baz accepted). it is this antagonist he is really fighting and very passionate about: he thinks about his plotting every day, he cracks his secret/superpower, he finds his weakness and “defeats” him. Simon is capable of active fighting, thinking and strategising.  

WHY Simon is so NOT invested in fighting Humdrum?

Let’s take a look at Humdrum and Simon, using Penny’s method, aka - what do we know, here I gathered a small table of data for these two:

So clearly, you can see that Humdrum is very unusual antagonist. Yes we can see that like in many pairs protagonist-antagonist there are a few opposite qualities of them, and it’s normal, it is trigger to fight dynamics. But at the same they are sort fig leaf to hide from Simon (or reader) who Humdrum really is.  Humdrum - is Simon’s doppelgänger. And that is VERY important, let’s look at this from writer point of view, it is not your usual antagonist-just-a-person-who-have-opposite-beliefs-or-hates-you-for-some-reason. This antagonist is VERY attached to protagonist, he is in fact his continuation. 

WHY would you want to write exactly this type of antagonist, what do you want to say?

I have multiple answers to go through.

1) To show Simon’s complexity. To show _protagonist_ complexity and somehow preserve the certain image of him. In “Carry On” Simon (at least for me as a reader) associated purely with soft and positive features, he is the definition of the good and kind hero. Yes, he’s impatient and short tempered, but he is empathic, he is thoughtful, he cares about most of the people around (he protect and shield his _chosen_ enemy, Baz. He won’t end him without second thought when he finally has opportunity - the scene in catacombs), he doesn’t hold grudges or avenge betrayal, he always tries to think above the things, see the whole picture, kinda look past himself. It is very high EQ and it is my dream character. But realistically for kid who had no one to raise him to love and understand people; with tough childhood - it is impossible to have no dark sides. Again, remember how annoyingly for reader neurotic HP would be in books? Well, guess what, his dark side is still in a book, it’s just detached from him, to not spoil his image for reader. Perhaps, because at this point (introducing the character) his dark sides are not allowed to make impression and they are not important YET. 2) To allow protagonist to do things he want to do, but can’t. This is “Jekyll and Hide” type of protagonist and yes, this is fair for Humdrum too. He destroys things and doesn’t feel bad about it. He “mundane” and again, he doesn’t feel bad about it. He doesn’t have to go to magic school and still - he is known, strong, dangerous. But most importantly - he can express his negative feelings. He is unhappy to be forgotten - he attracts attention (quite brutally); he is unhappy to be the only one who left to deal with trauma - he reminds about it - he summons Simon exactly at the place where bad things were happening (Lancashire) and he takes the form Simon probably tries to push away from his mind; he dislikes Mage - he talks to the Mage harsh and dismissively and laughing at him; the only people which Humdrum snatches/damages away from Simon are Agatha and Baz - it might be some sort of jealousy expression, and surely he express his jealousy about Simon’s skill and development. And IF he really hates the magic - he sure express his hatred good too, by literally destroying and he allows himself to feel pleasure from act of destruction (the face expression Simon never saw on his own face). And often, this reasoning for introducing doppelgänger goes with implying that protagonist has hidden desires to not be as good as he currently is. What doppelgänger does, it is what protagonist secretly desires to do.

To sum this these 2 points  - they _usually_ lead us to the point that protagonist is not as good he thinks he is. And while it is partly true - I believe, it is NOT Humdrum purpose. 

3) While Humdrum is surely threat to magic, is he Simon’s antagonist, really? Does he hates Simon? Do his actions have purpose to destroy what Simon have/created? It is a big no, to all these questions. 

Humdrum is metaphor for Simon’s trauma, he tries to shove away from himself.

Many people talk about Humdrum in the book, but most informative are - Penny, Mage and Baz, Simon and Humdrum himself.

Penny, I believe, is an author’s reflection in the book, so her words are clues), and she tell us - that Humdrum face is his real face (he is Simon), he’s childish and Simon’s dealing with negative emotions frustration/fear/annoyance/going off brings him joy (genuine childish laugh). She also tell Simon, the reason why he have to fight Humdrum - cause he the only one who can (and have to) do it.  Which is true. Mage - who is the real Simon’s antagonist and evil in the book - is the one who setups the reality “Humdrum is evil, you have to fight it”. Which can be easily translated to “Your feelings/experiences are not valid, you have to get rid of them”. He also setups example of not being important as a person, but being important as a weapon, to sharp your blade constantly if you wish. 

“Look at me, Simon. Have you ever known me to indulge myself with a normal life? Where is my wife? My children? Where’s my house in the country with my cosy chair and a fat cocker spaniel to bring me my slippers? When do I go on holiday? When do I take a break? When do I do anything other than prepare for the battle ahead? 

Excerpt From: Rainbow Rowell. “Carry On.”

Again - it translates to these old methods of dealing with trauma: fight it, ignore it, experience more trauma to make yourself numb. It doesn’t work. Mage doesn’t care about Simon. But in a way, Simon follows his instructions.

Baz - he is the symbol of healing love Simon needs (one of his defining quotes is “I chose you” - returning Simon everything what was taken away by Mage at that point)  he have experienced Humdrum only one time, but it’s enough for him to figure it out precisely. He understands that Humdrum is Simon (or his part) and he does not hesitate to confront Simon with it, because it is important. And he the one who tell Simon the aftermath of ignoring Humdrum. Baz is the one who - finally - triggers Simon to act. He also the first character who sees Simon (and Humdrum) and accepts them as whole. And still loves him.  Simon - he doesn’t talk about nature of Humdrum a lot. He hardly bothers to describe fighting scenes in a past. But he clearly indicates how he avoids Humdrum, thinking about Humdrum, thinking about time he will need to deal with it. He doesn’t want to have any touch points with it, even when he’s confronted about it. He shouts at Humdrum when he sees his own face on him, but he never thinks that Humdrum is him. Because it’s all painful. Humdrum - is pain he released and locked himself out of it. That is why he reluctant to deal with Humdrum, though it his life mission. He only do it if he have HAVE TO. And then - he will take the pain/fear/negatives and lock it in Humdrum again (make magic holes bigger) and leave. So he can stop thinking about him again. And finally, Humdrum. He thinks a lot, he has time for it. And he know exactly who he is. And when Simon is ready, when Simon’s is finally ready to face him by his own will, he tells him who he is:

“It’s the Humdrum,” I say. “It’s you on the day I found you.” His eyes are wide and soft. “My boy—” “I’m not him,” the Humdrum says. “I’m not anybody’s boy.” “You’re my shadow,” I say to the Humdrum. I’m not afraid of him now. “More like an exit wound,” he says. “Or an exhaust trail—I’ve had loads of time to think about it.” “The Insidious Humdrum,” the Mage whispers. “It’s a crap name,” the Humdrum says, bouncing his ball. “Did you come up with it?”

Excerpt From: Rainbow Rowell. “Carry On.” 

He is willing to talk about himself and all this scene he is strongly communicating on Simon’s side, but not on Mage’s. He behaves like he is Simon’s ally and they have the same goal. He’s open about his wishes (to evolve, to be like Simon, to be the one with Simon), he is open about what happens if Simon’s continued to follow the Mage’s instructions ( “He’s right. End everything. All of the magic.”). 

The scene of dealing with Humdrum doesn’t feel like Humdrum eliminating, but more like becoming one with him, finally accepting what was shoved away, belated debts payment. It is very sad but beautiful scene.

“I’m sorry that all the good stuff happened after I left you.”

“The Humdrum puts his hands over mine and gives me a small nod. His jaw is set, and his eyes are flinty. He looks like a little thug, even now. I nod back. I give it all to him. I let it all go.”

At the end - Humdrum and Simon became one, like it was before Simon first went off and got his magic at 11 year. Now he back to the same state and next book he is dealing with trauma (not the way he should, unfortunately). 

Maybe the key of getting powers back is to learn how to live with Humdrum and not ignore him. To accept yourself, to find yourself. Maybe use Humdrum powers too. “Someday dragon. Someday ferocious.”

p.s. The negative power of sucking off magic reminded me about Dementors in HP a bit, in a way, that’s what made me think about Humdrum as trauma or depression. At the same time, sometimes, Humdrum would show us, that he is still a doppelgänger of Simon’s and have the same thoughts  - like his phrase about “it’s it better than fighting” about Baz is quite the same as Simon’s.

[heliianthus-annnus]

The idea for this lovely ramble of my 1am writing is courtesy of @courfeyrank who wanted Enj and Bahorel being buds.

All mistakes are my own. And i apologize in advance for my atrocious spelling.

Tw: mentions of police brutality, drinking, and smoking.

Bahorel always felt guilty for leaving his family to go help with other causes but Enjorlas assured him repeatedly that it was more than okay and the Amis could take care of themselves. However when he walked into their customary meeting on the Saturday after a protest he was ready to never leave them alone for more than a day.

Everyone was sporting bruises, cuts, and Grantaire even had a broken arm. Bahorel knew it had a chance of going bad. His Amis always seemed to get on the wrong side of the police despite never actually doing anything wrong.

“R what the actual fuck happened?” Bahorel hissed as he slid into a seat next to the cynic.

“As you can see,” R gestured grandly with his arm that wasn’t in a sling, “my fiancé couldn’t outthink the police this time.” R gave out a heavy sigh. “No, that’s not fair to him. The fucking pigs decided to go to every known protest location and then some just to catch us off guard which they obviously did. They attacked us before we even got a chance to protest what we went there to protest.” Bahorel could cry at the defeated look in R’s eyes.

“How’s Enj?”

“Not good Baz. Not good at all. He…” R trailed off at the sight of Enj at the front of the room to where he had started to speak and pace.

Normally proud shoulders looked slumped under the weight of the world. He ran his hand through hair more often than he usually did making his curls stand on end. Perhaps most concerning of all, Enjorlas had an arm firmly clutched to his side where a bruise was visible through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Police baton to the ribs. He swears they are only bruised and wouldn’t let the nurse take a X-Ray even after I was discharged.” R whispered noticing where Bahorel’s gaze had fixed.

“Is he insane?” He desperately tried not to shout.

“To be determined.” R said grimly and turned to watch his Apollo with concerned but encouraging eyes.

The meeting continued on like that until Enjorlas finally adjourned it, trying and failing to disguise a wince as he lifted his arm to ring the bell at the front of the room.

“‘Aire can I stop by your apartment later?” Bahorel asked not taking his eyes off of Enj who was pale and swaying as he talked to Courfeyrac and Combeferre.

“Uh… yeah...sure” Grantaire said distractedly.

“I’ll be over as soon as you manage to get him home.”

“Thanks Baz.” R flashed him a tired, toothy grin as he went to wrangle his fiancé.

Bahorel went to talk to Cosette. Apparently Eponine was still with Marius at the hospital because he had gotten a severe concussion and Grantaire had broken his arm trying to keep more police officers away from him.

Bahorel was silently planning how he was going to rain legal hell on the precinct that was behind this offense on his family.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. A text from R saying that he had gotten Enj home. Bahorel seemed to either have lost track of time or Enj really was in bad shape.

When Baz got to the door of their apartment it swung open before he even knocked. There was a wild eyed R in the doorway and in the distance he could see Enj on their balcony.

“Are you okay R?” Bahorel confronted the immediate problem.

“Me? I’m totally fine. I’m about to lock myself in my studio until he stops drinking.” Grantaire moved to let him in and went immediately to go lock himself away without another word from Bahorel.

He knew R would be fine but he knew how hard it was for him to stay sober especially on nights like these. Nights where he desired to gain comfort from the bottom of the bottle like Enjorlas seemed to be doing. An activity that was very out of character for the golden leader.

Bahorel walked slowly over to the balcony.

The cool night air could be felt through the open doors. Enjorlas was leaning over the balcony railing propped up on his elbows. He had a bottle of wine in one hand and an unlit cigarette in the other.

“Don’t start. I am well aware that I shouldn’t have either of the things that I do but R and I talked the wine through and this is the only cigarette I own.” Enj said without looking behind him.

“I’m not here to nag you about your habits. I’m here because I’m concerned about you Enj.” Bahorel took the spot next to him on the balcony with a sigh.

“Which part? The injuries or the fact that I kinda hate myself at the moment.” Enjorlas let out a bitter laugh that turned into a grimace.

“Both. But let’s start with the ribs.” Bahorel said level headedly. He knew Enj was looking for a fight but no one was willing to give it to him. “Are you absolutely sure they are not broken.”

“ I am. I had Joly check them while R was sleeping after the protest.”

“Did you tell him that you did this?” Enjorlas’s eyes went glassy for a second.

“I...uh… Maybe?” He said.

“No. You didn’t. He is extremely concerned so talk to him in the morning.” Bahorel told him gently.

“ I will. I guess I got too caught up in the aftermath that I forgot.” Enj ran his hand with the cigarette through his hair seeming to forget that it existed.

“You're lucky that it isn't lit.” Bahorel said nodding to the cigarette.

“Ugh fuck it.” Enj said and threw it into a trash can that was on the balcony.

“Enjorlas. Tell me what’s wrong. It’s eating you up. “

“ It’s just...it’s my job to protect the people who come to our protests. Or at least make sure they are prepared. But I wasn’t so they weren’t.” Enj took a pull from the bottle in front to him. “I love the world and the people in it. It’s just… they don't seem to like me very much back.” Enjorlas’s face was distant. “I just want a better future for those that come after us. I don’t want them to have to get beaten by cops just to make a small dent in the minds of others. I don’t want them to have to go through the things we’ve had to. I don’t want my kid to grow up in a world like we did.” Enj looked so old in that one second that Bahorel was struck speechless. He knew Enjorlas held these convictions but he never knew how much the lack of progress killed Enj.

“Enjorlas,” Bahorel said softly, “I know you want it to, but the world isn’t going to change all at once overnight. It takes years for change to happen. And in the years the Amis has been running we have done so much you have done so much.” He said with conviction. He powered on before Enjorlas could interrupt him. “You helped start a youth shelter. The bail fund that you brainstormed and got up and running is thriving. Hell because of the Amis our shitty mayor was forced to step down and you spearheaded the campaign for the mayor who is changing things for the better to take his place. You have done so much you just can’t see it because you see so much at once.” Bahorel gave him a brilliant smile “Every once and a while you need to look at what you have directly in front of you because where I stand you are pretty fucking great and I know so many people who would agree with me.”

“Baz…” Enj said before setting his bottle down and hugging him extremely tight. Bahorel hugged him back as hard as he dared for the sake of Enjorlas’s ribs.

When Enj pulled away his eyes were red and there was a wet spot on Bahorel’s shirt.

“Thank you Bahorel.” Enj smiled at him. This time it looked a little less sad and a little more hopeful.

“It’s no problem Enj. You are my friend. More important you are family. Whatever you need.” He hesitated. “I need to go before the bus stops running. I can stay if you need though?”

“Go home Baz. You need rest. Can you take the wine with you when you go? And there is one in the refrigerator if you can take that one as well?” Enj asked.

“Yessir” Bahorel said with a grin and a sarcastic salute.

When Bahorel went inside he saw R leave his studio and go to where Enj was. He didn’t know if it was some magic couples intuition or if Enjorlas had texted Grantaire but either way he was glad that they had each other.

Bahorel however was extremely glad to have two mostly full bottles of expensive wine to keep him company.

He’d talk his own feelings out with Enj another day. A day when Enj wasn’t so stressed and when he wasn’t so scarily calm. But for now watching shitty TV and drinking expensive wine would have to do.

[mageicalwishes]

You Don’t Have To Say I Love You

Read on AO3: here

Summary:  Back at Watford, Baz has a confession to make. He's unsure of where him and Simon stand, what he can and can't do, but surely they're allowed this. "The words die in my throat, a wave of nerves crashing over me. I’m petrifyingly uncertain of what may lay on the other side of this moment. I don't know whether we’re allowed this. I don’t know whether I should take this leap. My mind begs me to retreat - To remain in the safety of the unsaid. But deep inside of me, that unquenchable desire to just say it remains, urging me onwards. I have to tell him. He has to know. Even if he can’t say it back."

Words: 1670

Simon Snow is curled under the duvet of his old bed, his larger, filled-out frame barely squeezing onto the mattress. He’s covered in cuts and bruises again - His tawny skin painted frightful shades black and blue. Being back here has really taken it out of him. Physically and mentally. It’s like Watford is taking bites out of him - Swinging at him every time it gets the chance.

He’s laying unnaturally still, his body stiff with tension, and his breaths coming out in heavy, stuttering puffs. He’s panicked. I can tell. It’s a feeling I’ve become far too familiar with seeing in him these days. Sometimes his attacks are loud - Tameless sobbing, and wild hyperventilation. But other times, like now, they’re quiet - Nothing but an easily unnoticed tension, and a detached, thousand-yard stare. I understand, of course. I get them too sometimes … When I dwell. Though, it still hurts to see him like this. Hurting. Alone. It’s unbearable. I wish I could make it go away for him. I wish I could make it stop. But I can’t.

I can’t even figure out how to aptly comfort him when he’s like this. Sometimes he wants to be held - Desperately clinging onto me, like I’m the only life ring for miles, in the turbulent sea of his mind. Sometimes he wants to be left alone entirely - Hiding behind closed doors, and silent, stony stares. And sometimes even he doesn’t know what he wants - Rubbing his wrists anxiously, and bouncing between begging for me to stay and pleading for me to just leave him alone. If I could just figure out what he needed, I’d do it in a heartbeat. I’d do anything for him. 

Tentatively, I reach across the gap that separates us, resting my hand on the pillow besides his head. Offering him my touch. 

“Is everything alright, Love,” I whisper, my voice shattering the heavy silence of the room.  

He huffs, sitting himself upright, and turning his upper body in my direction. He doesn’t say anything in response. Choosing instead to sit in silence, staring into the darkness - His brows pulled together in worry, and a deep frown etched across his face. 

Unsure of what to do, I lay frozen, waiting for him to make the next move. It’s always like this between us now - Uncertain. Both of us dancing around one another, unsure of what we can do. Unsure of what we should do. Everything used to come so naturally. We knew each other unthinkingly. And loving one another was simple. But, nowadays … Not so much. 

I’ve loved him through worse, and I love him still (Obviously). Every cell in my body is filled with it. I love him so much, sometimes, I think it will kill me. That somehow, I’ll combust with it all - My body simply incapable of containing all that I feel any longer.

I know that someday things will be as they once were - Easy. Carefree. In spite of it all, I know that we belong together. Even in our darkest hours, when all the hope that a better tomorrow was coming seemed to have vanished, I never lost faith in that simple fact. I never lost faith in us. As Simon once said - 'We match'. We’re two halves of a whole. Sun and Moon. Day and Night. Life and Death. 

We’ll get through this, together. I know it. 

A moment later, he moves, throwing his legs over the side of his bed, and standing. Creeping across the space between us, he plops himself down onto the bed besides me. 

“Shove over,” he gruffs, pushing my leg lightly. 

I oblige, hastily shuffling backwards to make room for him in the bed. Flashing me a shy half-smile, he lays himself down next to me, his wings flopping limply against the mattress behind him. We’re facing each other now, our noses barely fifteen centimetres apart. 

Upclose, I can see every detail of his face, illuminated beautifully by the moonlight. The alluring constellation of freckles. The small lines that decorate his full lips. The slight curl of his stubby, bronze lashes. Even, the small scars left behind from his pimpled teenage years. 

The landscape of Snow’s face is something I’d never tire of studying. He’s infallibly handsome - Always has been.

Wordlessly, he takes my hands in his, pulling them towards his body, and laying them against the curve of his waist. He leans forwards, resting his forehead against mine, and letting out a deep sigh. His eyes are clenched shut, clearly apprehensive. But, it’s an unmistakable invitation - One that I won’t refuse him. Willingly, I snake my arms further around his waist, pulling his body closer to mine. My cool fingertips sliding against his searing skin, tracing indistinguishable shapes against his side, in an attempt to soothe him. 

“Is there anything I can do?” I ask, my voice hushed. 

“Just - Just stay,” he mumbles, fluttering his eyelashes open to look at me. Blue meeting grey. 

“Always,” I affirm, unhesitantly. I’m his - Entirely his. For as long as he wants me. I’d reassure him of that fact everyday, if that’s what he needed - It would never cease to be true. 

“Good,” he sighs, reaching up to rest a hand against my cheek, his tail simultaneously wrapping itself around my upper-thigh. “I never want you to leave.” 

————————————————————————————

We lay in silence for a while, our gradually slowing breaths the only sound in the room. Mercifully, I think the worst of it may be over for him now - The suffocating panic having loosened its grip on him slightly. 

“Simon,” I murmur. 

“Mmm,” he hums, lifting his head up slightly to look at me. 

“There’s something that need to tell you. I’ve been meaning to tell you it for a while now, actually.”

“What?” He says, swallowing anxiously. 

“Nothing bad,” I reassure, realising the mistake of my vagueness. “You don’t need to worry. I just -” The words die in my throat, a wave of nerves crashing over me. I’m petrifyingly uncertain of what may lay on the other side of this moment. I don't know whether we’re allowed this. I don’t know whether I should take this leap. My mind begs me to retreat - To remain in the safety of the unsaid. But deep inside of me, that unquenchable desire to just say it remains, urging me onwards. I have to tell him. He has to know. Even if he can’t say it back.

“I love you,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes shut tightly. 

And just like that, he knows. It’s out there - Those three little words hanging thickly in the air between us. His body stiffens almost immediately, the muscles of his back pulling taut with tension. 

Crowley. I should’ve known to keep my mouth shut. But no - I’m sickeningly greedy. He’s here, with me, giving me all of this - And yet, here I am … Insisting on taking more than he can give. I’m a constant disappointment to myself. I suck in a painful breath, and pull my hands away from him, giving him the space to flee. My heart aches - Lying terrifyingly exposed, vulnerable outside of the walls of my chest. 

“I didn’t mean - You don’t have to say it back,” I stumble out. “I understand. I didn’t say it as a demand for reciprocity. I said it because … Well, because it’s true. I’ve known for a long time and I - I just needed you to know. I don’t want anything in return. I don’t need anything in return. I just wanted you to know.” 

“Baz,” he whispers, grabbing hold of my wrists. “Look at me.” 

Hesitantly, I blink my eyes open, meeting his gaze once more. His lips pulling into a small, half-smile in response. 

“It’s not-” he continues, his voice wavering nervously. “It’s not that I don’t - I mean. I’m not saying I don’t -” 

“Simon,” I interrupt. “You don’t have to explain. I - I understand. Really, I do. I wasn’t expecting you to say it back - I don’t need that from you. All I needed was for you to know.” 

“Okay,” he breathes, nuzzling the side of his nose against mine. “I just - I’ve never been the best with words, you know. I just - I just want. I don’t know what I want. I just - I can’t. I just can’t do it.” 

My heart despairs at the bitter tone of defeat in his voice. 

He sighs heavily, lifting his arms up to cradle my face within the warmth of his hands. He pulls slightly, dragging me down into a searing kiss. It’s hot and desperate - His mouth sliding against mine desperately, his lips trying to convey all that remains unsaid between us. 

Pulling away slightly, he breathes out a quiet “I’m sorry. I just can’t.” 

I rest my hand against the side of his head, smoothing his curls through my fingers. “It’s okay, Love. Everything is okay”. 

He doesn’t have to say it - Because I know. I know what he’s feeling, because I feel it as well. Even if I don’t deserve it, I know how it feels to be loved by Simon Snow. 

“I just - I just wish it could be simple. I just wish I could be normal again,” he sighs, his voice tightly knotted. 

He turns away from me then, as if ashamed. Curling his body in on itself, and wrapping his wings around his frame protectively.

“Simon. You are normal,” I assert. “Everything that you’ve been through - Anybody would struggle to handle that. You’re so strong. Even if you can’t see it yourself - I can. You’ll be alright. Everything will be alright.” 

He exhales loudly, reaching backwards and grabbing my hand, squeezing it reassuringly. 

“And you?” He says, pressing the palm of my hand flat against his chest and interlocking our fingers. “Will you be alright?” 

I blink, surprised - The softness of his voice catching me off guard.

“Of course, my Love,” I whisper, pressing a chaste kiss to the spiked ridge of his wing. “Everything is okay as long as I’ve got you”

[mandapandamar]

Currently Untitled Poetry Smash Drabble

Context, because this is a weird AU that only I asked for: I play Dungeons and Dragons with some friends, and my DM let me make a few things happen. The first was that I based my character, an elven druid, off of Jehan. I've wanted to mess around with Jehan for a while and druid seemed like a really good choice for them: magic and nature. They also, of course, have an interest in the flute and poetry writing. Because Jehan.

The second thing was making Poetry Smash happen. In this realm, Bahorel is an elven barbarian. He's not as ostracized as other barbarians tend to be; in fact, he plays a very important role in their community.

The relationship at this point is already established!

That said, I'm extremely nervous about this, because godDAMN the Les Mis fandom is super talented but I have been persuaded so here it is!

“Where are we going, Baz?”

“You'll see.”

Two figures made their way down a familiar trail in the woods. The dirt had been tamped down over years of foot travel, beaten by explorers and locals alike. Trees lined the path on either side, extending higher than the eye could see, seemingly vanishing into the Heavens above. The lush canopy blocked out most of the light from the full moon above, and had it not been for the taller of the two holding a lantern, vision would have been impossible.

Both of these creatures were elves, members of the eladrin clan native to this area, but the similarities stopped there. One was abnormally tall for an elf, about six and a half feet tall. He was stocky, with broad shoulders and defined muscles. His skin had been bronzed by the sun and heavily tattooed with his war stories. His long brown hair was tied back in intricate braids, effectively keeping it out of his angular face. This was Bahorel. Bahorel had been chosen by the elders to be a provider and protector of the village, citing his strength, bravery--though some would call it recklessness--and his heightened fighting skills. All these things earned Bahorel the respect of his fellow villagers, and while some feared meeting him alone at night, others viewed him as a gentle giant. He could be just as warm and kind as he could be cold and savage, and what side people got to see was typically dependent on how they treated him.

One such person who got to see his gentler side was walking beside him, their hand gently intertwined with his. They were much shorter than Bahorel, only coming up to about his shoulder, and much smaller in frame. They were delicate and their skin was fair, speckled with tiny flecks of brown that looked as though the gods themselves had dipped their brushes in pigment and meticulously painted each individual dot on their skin. Their hair seemed crafted of fine strands of the purest copper and was often woven with flowers or adorned with trinkets they found in the woods. Their name was Jehan, and they were as intrepid as they were beautiful.

Jehan shared a strong bond with nature. Flowers seemed to bloom wherever they walked. Animals that were normally frightened of humanoid creatures were not alarmed in their presence. Jehan frequently attributed this to the idea that animals could sense when someone was kind and of no threat. But the reality was that Jehan was blessed with a potent magical gift, one that they often tried to down-play out of modesty.

It was this gift that landed Jehan with an incredibly important title. Each decade in their home land of Elestrisia, King Galajen selected five individuals gifted with especially strong magical abilities. Those five were given the title of either a Prince or Princess of Elestrisia, though Jehan preferred to use the term “royal.” These five royals would serve as guardians of the land, each given a special responsibility in the process. Jehan's duty was to reinforce the world, to be sturdy yet gentle, stalwart and forgiving, protective and supportive. It was a tall order, but Jehan could handle it, though they remained a bit nervous.

Jehan was set to depart for the castle the following day. They had an obligation to attend to after ten years, in which they would get to see their fellow royals again. Bahorel was insistent on Jehan meeting him in the woods the night prior, but why, Jehan had no idea.

Bahorel led Jehan through the wood to a clearing. Jehan was familiar with this spot; it was where they had met one another some four years ago, when Jehan happened across an injured Bahorel…

Bahorel's voice brought Jehan out of their thoughts. “Remember the first thing you said to me?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Yes. I told you that you were lucky I'd prepared a healing spell that morning.”

“Otherwise I'd be a goner, yeah.”

“I stand by that,” Jehan chided. “And now I have a healing spell prepared every morning, just in case.”

“See? I helped.” Bahorel smiled and wrapped his arm around Jehan's shoulders.

The pair gazed around the glade. With the thick canopy of the sequoia gone, the full moon shone brightly and illuminated their surroundings. To the right was a small stream that cut through the wood. Further back, there was a waterfall that one could hear if they were quiet enough. To the left was a small shrine that the ancients must have used; it had long since been overtaken by nature, moss clinging to its stone facade and life sprouting from its base in the form of tiny mushrooms and wild grass. In front of them, more wood extended as far as the eye could see before fading into shadow and mist. The slightest breeze made the grass in the foreground dance. It was peaceful, calm, and Jehan often came out here to write or think. Sometimes Bahorel would come along and provide...certain distractions.

“You were sitting with your feet in the water when I met you,” Bahorel reminisced.

“I was resting; it's a long walk out here and the water soothed any aches I had. My feet weren't so tough back then.”

“Ah, yes. I always forget the spirit of the forest refuses to wear shoes.”

Jehan elbowed their companion in the side lightly, earning a laugh. “Hey,” Bahorel defended, “give me a break! You have to go do important royalty stuff starting tomorrow and I'm gonna be all alone. I have to get my fix in before you go!”

Jehan chuckled. “I'll only be gone a little while.”

“I know. I'm still going to miss you.”

A blush tinted Jehan's usually pale cheeks. “Is that why you've brought me here? So I have a longer trip back home before I leave in the morning?”

“No,” Bahorel said simply, turning to face Jehan. He ran a hand through his hair and exhaled, almost nervous. Bahorel never got nervous, so why now?

“I actually brought you here because I have something important I need to give you and it can't wait. I don't want you leaving without it.”

Jehan raised a brow. “Oh? What is it?”

Bahorel let out another anxious breath. He'd been involved with Jehan for a while now and knew as well as anyone that Jehan was a true romantic. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that Jehan had planned out their perfect proposal and Bahorel didn't want to fall short of those expectations.

“We've been together for a while now, you and I. And in that time, I like to think we've made each other pretty happy, right?”

Jehan smiled. “Yes.”

“And the other day as you were braiding my hair, you were talking about how the full moon is a really auspicious time, how you had a good feeling about your trip and this moon in general. You mentioned how things are at their peak and it's a time to celebrate, a time to turn your desires into realities.”

Jehan nodded, still smiling as Bahorel took their hands. They were completely clueless as to where Bahorel was going with all of this, but hell if he wasn't fiercely passionate about the whole thing.

“And I realized something. I realized what I desire more than anything else. What I want. And that's you. All of you. Everything you are and everything you do, I want all of it. I want all of you, the good and the parts you don't like so much, every day, for forever.”

Bahorel sank to a knee, gazing up at Jehan with love in his eyes. “What do you say, Jehan? Will you marry me?”

To say Jehan teared up was an understatement. The entire time Bahorel was speaking, Jehan was blubbering. He'd never been a wordsmith; Bahorel tended to let his actions speak for him in situations such as this. And yet, he put together the most beautiful string of words Jehan had ever heard. Beautiful words that Jehan couldn't have written better if they'd tried.

“Yes. Yes, of course I'll marry you!”

They wiped their eyes as they caught sight of the ring Bahorel held out. It was delicate and pretty, a golden band with wildflowers etched into the metal. It fit perfectly on their hand, surrounded by druidic symbols and words inked into their skin. Jehan looked at it for only a split second before tugging Bahorel to his feet and pulling him into a kiss.

As they separated, Bahorel brushed a strand of copper hair from Jehan's face, his eyes fixed on the beauty of his betrothed. “I love you, Jehan.”

“I love you more, Baz.”

Bahorel grinned and scooped Jehan into his arms, carrying them off to a special spot only the two of them knew. They'd have to get up pretty early if Jehan wanted to leave for the castle on time, but deadlines be damned. Tonight was just for them.

[carry-on-kissing-snowbaz]

Anniversary Fic

This is my contribution to the first day of Carry On’s Bday Weekend! Thank you @eroticspookfest for being an amazing beta! plan on posting one or two more during the weekend. Check out the @carry-on-bday-2017 page to see other anniversary works!

Word Count: 2141

Simon

The flyer in Simon’s hand seemed incongruous with the ancient walls around him, common school supplies and archaic architecture colliding. It looked as if someone had gone a little overboard with Microsoft Word Art when they had made the thing. He watched Penny’s face as her mouth broke out into a huge grin. Oddly enough, most of the students in the dining hall looked just as excited as her. 

“I don’t get it,” Simon said, frowning.

Penny looked up from the flier, still grinning.

“What?”

Simon gestured to the entirety of the dining hall.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” He said.

Penny stopped smiling and studied him carefully. Agatha stopped talking to Rhys and turned to stare as well.

“Simon what are you even saying?” Agatha asked.

Simon shrugged.

“Who cares if it’s the 500th anniversary of the school? I mean sure it’s cool but, I don’t see why everyone cares so much.”

Penny huffed.

“Simon, even in the Normal world this sort of thing would be big.”

Simon shrugged.

“I guess.”

“The school has been around for half a millennium, that’s a huge deal Simon!” Penny said.

“I thought we didn’t know when Watford first began,” Simon said, embarrassed that everyone was looking at like he was an idiot.

Penny smirked.

“No, but we do know when they started keeping student records.”

“Which was in the year 1517. So we count from there,” Agatha added.

“Well I still don’t see why it’s such a big deal,” Simon said.

“Of course you don’t. If something doesn’t involve food or killing then the concept is utterly lost on you.”

Simon whipped around to see that Baz had been passing by their table and had stopped to deliver his comment, sneering all the while.

“Explain it to me then, since you’re so smart,” Simon snapped.

Baz smirked.

“All you had to do was ask.”

He sat down next to Simon. Recoiling slightly, Simon moved to put some space between the two of them as Baz ripped the flier out of his hands.

“An anniversary, like any other holiday or birthday, means that magic will be stronger than usual. We’ll be able to say stronger spells, create more powerful potions, and make the impossible happen.”

Simon hated the way Baz talked. It was as if he could make anything sound romantic.

“And there will be one hell of a party. Think of the Leavers Ball, except ten times more elaborate.”

Simon felt a flicker of unease.

“If magic becomes more powerful during an anniversary like this then won’t I be more…” Simon trailed off.

Baz grimaced.

“Yes, I imagine you’ll go off like a firework by the end of the night. Ought to make for amusing enough entertainment.”

With that, Baz rose and went back to his own table. As he sat, Simon saw Dev and Niall snicker, their eyes sliding over to Simon. He felt his cheeks warm.

“He’s such a prick,” Simon said, scowling.

“Ignore him Simon, you’re not going to go off just because the magic is stronger on that day,” Penny said.

But she didn’t sound totally convinced of her own statement and Agatha was eyeing him as if he were a ticking time bomb.

Baz

Snow had been anxious all week long. He could feel his magic practically twitching in the air in their room at night. Baz wasn’t getting sleep, which was making him snarkier during the day and in turn making Snow’s anxiety even worse. Baz hadn’t meant to set all of this off. All he’d wanted to do was ruffle Snow’s Normal skepticism a bit. He was paying for it now.

“Snow, can we talk?” He asked.

Snow paused, his tie still undone and shirt open.

“Why?” He asked, eyes narrow.

Baz rolled his eyes.

“Relax. I’m being serious,” He said.

“Fine,” He said, sitting rigidly on his bed.

“You’re not going to destroy Watford tomorrow. So can you just relax?”

Snow’s jaw hardened.

“I’m not sure why you’re trying to make me feel better but lying to me isn’t going to help. I saw it written all over Penny and Agatha’s faces.”

Baz frowned.

“Then just don’t go off.”

Snow raised his eyebrow, his expression angry.

“Why didn’t I think of that? You’re totally right. Just don’t go off, as if I can control it.”

“What usually makes you go off?” Baz asked.

“The Humdrum,” Snow said.

“And?” Baz pressed.

Snow glanced up at him.

“You,” He said.

Baz wished Snow meant that his uncontrollable desire for Baz was what made him go off. But he knew better, Snow went off because Baz pushed him to go off.

“I won’t bother you tomorrow then,” Baz said.

Snow smirked.

“As if you have control over that any more than I do over my magic.”

Baz wished they were flirting, not discussing their mutual hatred.

“I’ll do it, if it means you’ll calm down.” Baz said.

Snow looked confused.

“Why?” Snow asked.

“To protect Watford,” Baz mumbled.

To protect you.

Simon

It was the day of Watford’s Anniversary. As soon as Simon had woken up, he’d felt the difference in the magical atmosphere. There was a low hum in the air, not something he could actually hear but a tension he could feel. Part of him had wanted to throw up; another part of him had wanted to go off. Somehow, he managed to do neither. 

When he’d opened his eyes he had found that Baz was gone, bed already made and cold. Simon felt a small flicker of disappointment, Which was stupid, he should have felt grateful. Baz was doing exactly what he’d said he would do the night before, not bother him. Still, he had wanted to ask Baz what it was like for him, the extra power. Mostly it was just making Simon feel sick, overfull and depleted all at once.

When he had finally roused himself and made his way to the dining hall, he found that the sensation was worse. He felt like he might actually pass out from the amount of magic around him. 

“Isn’t it great?” Penny was asking.

“It’s weird, my magic doesn’t feel so, I don’t know, tense?” Agatha said.

“Anniversaries are amazing,” Penny breathed.

Simon felt his breathing rate go higher.

“Simon?” Agatha asked, concern in her voice.

Simon shuddered.

“I’m sorry, I just…it’s too much.”

Penny frowned and went to place a hand on his shoulder. The touch of her hand, even through the fabric of his uniform, burned.

“Merlin,” Simon moaned, backing away.

Penny ripped her hand away, eyes frightened.

“Did I hurt you?” Simon whispered.

She shook her head.

“Then what is it?” He asked.

Penny’s eyelashes fluttered, concern and confusion in her eyes.

“I think that I…well I think that I hurt you Simon.”

Simon frowned.

“How is that…even possible?” Simon asked.

“It was like…I could feel your magic,” Penny said.

Simon froze.

“I could feel and…I could use it,” Penny whispered.

Baz

Snow had left the dining hall hours ago and disappeared. He was missing all of the ceremonies and festivities. Baz wanted very badly to go see what was wrong with him but he worried that his presence would just make everything worse for him. Was it sick, Baz wondered, to be in love with someone and know that you were the very thing that made their life miserable?

He approached Bunce instead. 

“What’s wrong with Snow?” 

Penny finished her bite of cake and glared at him.

“Why on earth would I tell you of all people?” She asked.

“Because I’m trying to help him,” Baz said.

Her face crumpled into a look of disbelief.

“Why?” She asked.

He tried to come up with a reasonable excuse. To come up with any excuse. But he couldn’t. He was too worried about Snow to have a mask ready and in place. All of his feelings were written on his face and he knew it.

She gasped.

“Oh my god…” She whispered, studying him.

“Just tell me what’s wrong with him,” He said.

“All of this extra magic, for whatever reason part of it is coming from him. When I touched him, it was like my body absorbed a little more than everyone else. I-I hurt him Baz, I didn’t even mean to but I did.”

Baz felt his stomach drop. There were hundreds of people out for the anniversary. All of them were using magic, more than they would normally have been able to. Baz had always known that Snow was made of magic, but he’d never entertained the idea that all of that magic could be accessible to others, under the right circumstances. 

“I need to go check on him,” Baz said.

“Baz I don’t think-“

“I don’t care,” He said.

Then he was running.

Simon

He felt like he was dying. Maybe he was, it wasn’t as if he could tell. The room was a haze of buzzing, each vibration alighting painful nerves along Simon’s body. He felt like he was bleeding out. Except that he wasn’t, he was losing magic, not blood. He should have realized that an event as sacred to Watford as an anniversary would do something like this to him. He was never meant to be here at all.

Tears and sweat mingled over his cheeks, his neck. He had stripped to only his boxers. He would have taken it all off, except that he was worried Baz might come back.

Baz.

In the strange haze of pain and loss Simon realized that Baz’s name brought him comfort. Baz was infuriating and mean but he was also constant. He’d stayed away just to help Watford. That had to mean he wasn’t evil. 

He knew Baz wasn’t evil, deep down. The fever was breaking down all of the walls he’d built around himself over the years.

Baz was annoying, insufferable, and elitist.

Baz was the only one Simon wanted to see right now.

The door to their room opened. 

Simon waited to feel the roiling nausea that had accompanied all the other times Penny or Agatha had come to visit him during the day. He felt none of that. Instead he felt the buzzing in the room lower slightly.

“Baz?” Simon gasped.

He sat up and saw that Baz was staring at him, his expression caught between horror and caution. He must not want to make me go off Simon thought. 

“I can go,” Baz said.

“Don’t,” Simon whispered.

Baz came forward slowly, giving Simon a chance to adjust to his magic in the room.

This time the magic didn’t burn Simon. He felt his skin cool slightly, noticed as the buzzing decreased even more.

“Come closer,” Simon said.

Baz did as he asked, sitting on the bed beside him.

Relief was so close that Simon wanted to drown himself in it. He wanted to bury his face in Baz’s hair, to wrap his arms around his waist and pull him into himself.

But he wanted other things too. He wanted to press his mouth into the soft flesh of Baz’s cheeks, to lightly trail a finger over the length of Baz’s collarbone. 

He wanted relief, he wanted more tension.

He wanted more.

“Baz,” He breathed, tasting his name with magic. 

It wasn’t a spell; he was too weak to make anything out of it anyways. But he watched as Baz’s eyes went brighter, as his entire face seemed to come alive as it never had before.

“Simon,” Baz breathed.

Simon felt it. Baz had said the words with magic, both of his own and of Simon’s. It didn’t hurt though, as it had with Penny. When she had tried a spell in the room with Simon, he’d felt it as though she had ripped the magic inside of him away. This wasn’t like that. Baz wasn’t taking any magic, he was sharing it.

Simon moved forward, unsure of himself. This connection was different than the others, it was right. He pushed his hands through Baz’s hair and sighed happily as the buzzing in the room stopped completely.

Then he realized where he was; kneeling in front of Baz on his bed, hands caught up in his hair.

“Simon…” 

He kissed Baz. It was strange that he had never considered doing it before. Baz inhaled sharply but didn’t move away. He sat there and let Simon kiss him, hands getting twisty in Simon’s curls.

Simon didn’t even care that he was slick with sweat, and it seemed that Baz didn’t care either. Simon murmured his agreement when Baz opened his mouth. Their tongues collided, wrapped up in each other like their magic.

“Stay,” Simon panted, when they broke apart.

“Always,” Baz whispered.

They kissed again and this time they didn’t stop. Even when they heard the fireworks going off on the Great Lawn.

[keptin-indy]

Dresden Files: Salem 4

Or: The Party Goes to a Nightclub and the White Court Learns a Valuable Lesson About Dogs

Protip: Anytime I mention Baz’s clothing, you should definitely click on the link.  The first chapter has one too.

Immediately after the fight, Eunice manifested to berate the group on their general incompetence when left alone for five minutes, and Baz dropped into a healing trance in the hopes that she was just a hallucination.  Sam took the opportunity to roll in something foul under the bridge and a circling crow dropped down amongst the group, revealing itself to be Adler.  The shapeshifter declared that this troll had once literally stolen his face and began searching through its belongings to see if it still had it.  With Sam’s help, he discovered the patch of preserved skin stapled to an old mannequin.  Baz awoke just in time for Adler to shove this grisly trophy at him in excitement that the troll had kept it in good shape.  Baz agreed with Adler’s assertion that it was a good face that he had worked hard on, but was much less enthusiastic about the flayed skin part.  Setting that aside, he filled Eunice and Adler in on the plan for dealing with the Winter Court, and Adler expressed concern that it might make him a target, and therefore a less effective protector for Baz, since he had previously rejected the Winters’ attempts to press-gang him.  Baz suggested they protect each other, which must have met with Adler’s approval, because he turned to the troll, said he wanted to make a statement, changed his face to match the big green faerie’s, and carved his own face off to staple it to the mannequin where his own had been.  The rest of the group tried very hard to look anywhere else except for Murchah, who didn’t have nearly the same relationship with his body as most people, and Eunice, who demanded Evelyn stop him and give him therapy for self-harm.  Putting that behind them as quickly as possible, Baz and Evelyn wrapped the troll in a tarp and veiled it so the group could schlep it down to the steam tunnels under Gallows Hill, where Fodla was known to hold her “court”.  The tunnels twisted down much further than logic dictated they should, getting creepier as they went until they lead straight through a door into the NeverNever (Adler also got creepier as they went, though this seemed to be intentional and not prompted by the NeverNever, eventually ending up a raven with far too many eyes perched on Baz’s shoulder).  The tunnels led to a large chamber where roughly a football team of a otherworldly horrors, many of them too alien to even enter the real world, were gathered around their leader, Fodla.  Baz called her out and gave her his deal: she and her people liked ruining people’s days, Baz sometimes ran across people whose days needed to be ruined.  Rather than run them out of town outright, he would give the Winters approved targets and they could suggest others, essentially turning them into a spy network looking for anyone doing things they thought the Warden was disapprove of.  Fodla asked if he wished them to be a scourge upon the wicked and Baz clarified only with his express permission and veto power.  Fodla was amenable to this agreement and said that the conversation had gone much better than she had expected when he started attacking her people unprovoked, and as the mortal(-ish) group took their leave, she pulled out a mirror and told someone to return, as they weren’t needed.  Once back on the surface, they split up to shower and agreed to meet up later for food and further planning.  At the Bassam residence, Sam smelled something hostile and recently in the area, confirming Baz’s fears that Fodla had targeted his mother as a potential hostage.  Adler reminded him that the Winters were cruel and violent, and that Baz would have to be exceedingly careful if he wanted to use them as a resource.

The group met back up to discuss next steps with regards to the Summer Court’s bid for power, then changed tactics and decided to talk to the smaller, less supernaturally influential White Court in the hopes that they would have more understandable motives.  They asked Ian Fitzpatrick to arrange a meeting at the vampires’ dance club rather than neutral grounds out of curiosity and at least partially the desire to genuinely go clubbing (Baz, Adler, and Evelyn showed up dressed appropriately.).  Kayla Monroe, the local head of the White Court, came out to greet them dressed like a sexy Halloween costume version of a businesswoman, with her natural aura of lust turned up for the occasion.  Sadly for her, the only people affected were Eunice, Adler, and Sam, with predictable results for the dog.  Once they pried Sam off of her leg and locked him in the staff bathroom, Kayla - deeply regretting her choices already - led the others to her office to talk shop.  Baz pointed out that they both benefited from the status quo and should want to keep it in place, but Kayla countered that she actually wanted free reign over the city’s mortals, which, incidentally, was what Lord Cluracan had offered her.  Additionally, she didn’t believe in the Summer Lord’s ability to actually run a city, so she anticipated even greater power once she deposed him somewhere along the line.  Eunice told her about the Formori threat to the city and claimed that Baz was much more likely to be able to defend against them than the decadent Summer Court, but Kayla sensibly rebutted that he was going to do that whether he was in charge of the city of not, which Baz couldn’t deny.  Eunice asked for a moment to convene outside, which Kayla, a businesswoman before anything else, didn’t mind.  Murchah stayed behind, smugly turning the vampire’s attempts to seduce him into stonewalled awkward silence.  Since the vampires were proving more ambitious than hoped, and had unwisely revealed their plans to overthrow the Summer Court, the Featherhams advised offering to come back with a solid proposal, which Kayla would likely respect as a normal business tactic.  The group made their proposal, which was accepted, and collected Murchah and Sam (who, unbeknownst to the others, had picked up on a number of familiar shadows flitting around the club).  Adler and Evelyn elected to stay for a night out on the town, and Baz joined them after dropping Sam off at home.  Kayla took the opportunity to try and seduce them one by one, but only Adler - already under her lust effect - followed her back to her office and was fed upon after mistakenly believing that not shifting into a form with human genitals would protect him.  Baz alternatively played wingman or bodyguard for Evelyn while worrying about Adler’s absence and wasn’t much happier when the shapeshifter emerged looking tired and happy and asked the two of them to join him on the dancefloor for “platonic rhythmic stomping”.  The night eventually ended when Eunice decided her granddaughter had stayed out past curfew and manifested in the club to tell her so.

The group met up again the next day to finally figure out the Summer situation and Eunice gave Baz some surprisingly lucid and helpful advice: don’t assume you know what the other party wants; ask them instead and you’ll learn more about them and they less about you.  With that in mind, the group decided to ask Lord Cluracan what he might know about the Formorians, since it had been the Sidhe who had defeated them before.  This time they asked Fitzpatrick to set up a meeting on neutral grounds, or rather Neutral Grounds, the coffee shop run by local “caffeinomancer” Diane Basset which had a private room for precisely these occasions.  Lord Cluracan cheerfully greeted Baz as his rival, but Baz steered the conversation to the Formorian jailbreak, which was disturbing news to the Sidhe.  He said he would consult the rest of the Summer Court for more information, and Adler (who had taken on the form of a cat with hands for reasons known only to himself) pointed out that dealing with this sort of threat would be part of running Salem.  Cluracan sighed that he knew, but that his liege, Lord Oberon, had given him orders to claim the city when he’d heard of Commander Rowland’s death.  Murchah touched Baz with one finger and somehow communicated telepathically that they could use this information against the White Court, who were supporting the Summers solely on the assumption that Cluracan would eventually step aside when he grew tired of ruling.  A silent and surprised conversation about how Murchah was doing this ensued and Adler tried to distract the Faerie entourage from the sudden spacing out of the man vying for control of the city by being a conspicuously cute kitty (with hands).  Sam took advantage of the distraction to eat Baz’s pastry.  Baz and Murchah returned to the main conversation when they realized how awkward the room had become and tried to convince Cluracan to disobey his lord’s orders and leave the work of running the city to someone who actually wanted it.  Cluracan badly wanted to, but said that Oberon would give him the head of a jackass for a thousand years as punishment.  Adler, the only person in the room who might know what that was like, told him it wouldn’t be that bad of a life; Bottom had had a great time even with an ass’ head.  Also, if he died fighting the Formori, it wouldn’t matter what kind of head he had and he’d never enjoy anything again.  Cluracan found this to be a good point; he would rather have the head of an ass than run Salem.  Baz was suddenly a lot less confident in his own desire to run the place.  

[tyrannuspitch]

Vampire Oppression in the Carry On Universe (part 1/3)

(CW: Discussion of canon violence & bigotry)

Okay. I’ve been taking things too seriously™ for years but never done much more than scream into the void, so... The time has come for me to talk at excruciating length about vampires and why you should absolutely be on their side. 

This is going to be three parts: part one will try to put together a picture of the general situation in Carry On, part two will compare and contrast it with the portrayal of vampires in Wayward Son (fair warning: negatively), and part three will be about how this impacts Baz personally, in particular his family situation.

(@angelsfalling16, I don’t know if this is what you meant when you said you were interested in my thoughts on monster stuff, but... here you go ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

-

Let’s review the basic situation as of Carry On:

Human mages in Britain are highly organised, having a school, the Coven, etc, and hold a huge amount of power in the magical world - they seem to be the default (or only?) legal authority. Some of the more organised non-human magical groups (eg goblins) don’t accept this authority, but that’s because they’re actively at war with them. In addition, some background stuff - like the Mage’s comments about pixie diseases - suggest that for many groups, if human mages aren’t on your side, you’re going to struggle on a daily basis. 

(It’s hard to know whether this is because these groups are inherently too small and powerless to fend for themselves, or if it’s because mages hold power over them, keeping them weak, but realistically both are probably factors.)

British vampires don’t seem organised at all. There’s never a mention of a king, a council, or any sort of centralised authority that could unite them as an equal power to human mages. If what we see in the bar in Soho is anything to go by, most vampires are living in hiding and just trying to survive.

Which makes sense, because as far as we can tell from Carry On, vampires in Britain have no legal protections whatsoever - not even a right to life. The protection the Mage offered the vampires was just a right to live in London without being hunted down, and the vampires there don’t seem to trust that mages will actually keep to that promise. 

Their community is not in a position to make its own laws, create its own safe zones, or to take a stand in self-defence. They are effectively powerless against the mages, and the mages are not interested in their wellbeing.

Even Nicodemus, when trying to get Baz to back off, says that Baz won’t kill him because he doesn’t have the guts... but that he won’t cast a truth spell because it’s illegal. The implication being that murdering Nicodemus in cold blood wouldn’t be illegal, or at least, that the Coven wouldn’t care if it was. (He even implies that the main reason they’d enforce the truth spell law is as an excuse to punish Baz for being a vampire. Not because they have any desire to protect someone like Nicodemus from that kind of violation.)

Now, of course, Nicodemus’s threats are not necessarily a completely reliable source for the inner workings of the mage’s legal system, but he does have personal experience with it. Nicodemus was cast out for becoming a vampire - not for biting or endangering anyone. And he suggests the same or worse could happen to Baz, who wasn’t even Turned consensually. The implication is that vampirism itself is a crime. Not even deciding to become a vampire (which would still be discriminatory) - just being one.

And finally, of course... "vampire hunter” is a job title held by employees of the Coven. It could be less literal than it sounds, we don’t know - but honestly, if it is literal, that’s not even out of step with the rest of their policies.

TL;DR: While British mages are highly organised and very powerful, vampires have almost no power defend themselves on a societal level. This means that human mages can essentially treat vampires however they want with no consequences, up to and including cold-blooded murder. Persecution of vampires is completely normalised and institutionalised in British magical society.

So now that that’s established - do things really have to be this way?

As Baz demonstrates, it’s entirely possible to live as a vampire without ever hurting a human. Even if we accept the WS lore that they do need human blood - more on that in part two - there are ways for that to be done safely and consensually. The justification mages give for treating vampires the way they do is that vampires are dangerous to humans, but there isn’t actually any need for them to be so, and it’s actually much safer for them not to be. No-one notices when stray dogs or rats go missing - they might even celebrate it - but a trail of human bodies would absolutely draw attention. Even setting aside morality, ethical vampirism is a matter of common sense.

And crucially, that would still be true if vampires weren’t oppressed. The choice isn’t between oppressing vampires and making murder legal for vampires. If vampires had all the same rights as human mages... they would still face consequences for killing people. And if vampires do need to drink human blood specifically, then it would be easier to make sure that was happening safely and consensually if it were legal and regulated, not criminalised. Driving people into the shadows makes them desperate and more likely to do dangerous things.

And as we know from real life, marginalisation and attempts at violent control can actually increase violence in a community. This is especially the case for vampires: Imagine you’re a newly Turned vampire, and because vampires have to go into hiding to survive, you have no way to find a community or to access reliable information about your condition. You might well assume that you need to drink from people, and since almost no-one is prepared to just start eating people at the drop of a hat, you might starve yourself to the point where you lose control, like Baz did under the Humdrum’s influence. And now there’s either a trail of bodies... or another new vampire in the same situation.

Similarly: the Watford nursery attack was a very unusual incident, but after centuries of this dynamic between mages and vampires, it probably isn’t the first like it. So why did that happen?

It wasn’t part of their normal hunting habits, obviously. And it was planned and calculated - not a simple impulse or loss of control. They actually made a deal with the Mage to do it. But they have very little reason to trust that he’d keep his promises, or, honestly, to think they’d survive to see the consequences... 

Personally, I can’t see any reason for it but vengeance. A violent, nihilistic act akin to suicide bombing: They’re so hopeless they’re not even protesting or rebelling, they’re just trying to take some of their enemies down with them. Of course, targeting children is not in any way justifiable - but these are the choices of a handful of individuals, not the vampire community as a whole. And they would never have got to a stage of such advanced anger and despair in the first place if vampires weren’t treated so horrifically by human mages. They chose the wrong way to protest - but what they’re protesting against is still a real, serious problem. The oppression of vampires created that tragedy, not the inherent evil of vampirism itself.

Of course, it’s possible that there are one or two vampires out there who literally are just serial killers, in line with the propaganda. But even if there are, that’s not because vampires are inherently evil. It’s because those specific vampires have made a decision to be bad people. A decision that human mages could very easily also take. We don’t get to persecute entire kinds of people just because they’re “dangerous” - literally everyone is dangerous.

The point is that marginalising vampires causes more violence than it prevents, and marginalising vampires in itself entails extreme, systematic violence and terror - more than the violence against mages that it prevents and causes put together. It’s not morally grey or a necessary evil - it’s just evil.

TL;DR: Human mages’ oppression of vampires is not justifiable on any level. It treats vampires as a monolith based on their worst potential, but vampirism does not automatically make you an evil or violent person. There’s no evidence to suggest that even a significant minority of vampires - say, 5% - actually are. But even on its own terms, the way that mages treat vampires is not effective at achieving its own goals. It does not lower the amount of violence in the world, even if we only count the violence against humans - it increases it.

Obviously, you would hope that no-one in the fandom would be justifying the oppression of vampires, but... even so. It’s useful to be able to take a step back and see the full scale of injustice here, especially given our unreliable narrators. And.. I think having established that it’s 100% unambiguously wrong and evil and pointless will be... useful, going into part two of this obnoxiously long essay.

[lnevada]

But not really?? Smurf put the hit on baz. Killed Catherine because she got in the way. Aka she would do this to Adrian. Renn better watch out if that is Craig’s baby. She uses her mentally ill son to murder people she doesn’t like uncaring of all the damage she does. Nicky was an easy manipulation drug her up. Easy done. Also she offered to turn in all her boys so she would get out of jail. Mother is a crazy bitch that only cares about herself.

Yes, you are absolutely right.  Smurf is an evil, corrupt, and manipulative woman.  She values her own safety and wellbeing above all else; often at the risk of her children’s desires, lives, or needs.  It is easy to forget these flaws when watching the scenes, like the ones I mentioned (there were two of those scenes in S3E10/this week’s ep alone), and one often wants to remember the good as opposed to the bad when it comes to characters they enjoy or like.  

But you say all this like it isn’t these flaws that make Smurf such an interesting and dynamic character to watch on screen!  Smurf is the lead character and she makes the show that much more fun to watch.  

Her time behind bars was not her brightest arc of the series. I myself was ready to “drop” or stop defending her when I believed she was going to flip on the boys.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned from tv it’s that in the great words of another character on a similarly themed show, “Rats deserve to die”.  However, Smurf didn’t get the chance to rat.  She got out before she made any sort of deal. Until a similar situation arises later in the series and plays out to its fullest extent, I think it’s safe to say that we don’t know if Smurf was actually going to flip or not.  If she would ever give up her boys for a lighter sentence or not.  She very well could have had a plan “B” to get both herself and the boys off scot free or a plan to double cross the police in some way to favor herself that had nothing to do with her kids.  We just don’t know.  But I’ve seen the double cross happen before were the “villain” says they’ll makes a deal that ends up with themselves and their friends on top with no charges at all. Anything is plausible in a show like this.

I believe that Smurf has some love for her sons and nephew.  It may not be a whole lot.  It may not show up often in the series and it may be purely for manipulative purposes. Purely to keep herself on top and in power.  But I think it’s there.  I think Smurf is a smart woman who has been playing this game for most of her life with several group of people (people we haven’t or will never even see) and she doesn’t make a move or say a single syllable aloud that isn’t calculated to the fullest extent.  I think every decision we’ve seen her make in the show is to protect her and what she values most: properties, money, the boys.  I think if she is 100% on her A game (what she perceives as safe) and has the ability to help out her boys then she won’t hesitate to do so.  

A topic that keeps being brought up is the topic of family.  I believe Smurf loved Baz, but he was not family.  He chose some girl over his family and stole from Smurf.  He betrayed her trust and he “deserve(d) to die” in this fictional TV show world where murder fixes problems.  Smurf is very capable of killing those who get in her way or sending any of her boys (not just Pope) to do it for her (when they are on good standing). But she takes care of her business and, if my memory serves me correctly, she has only been shown getting rid of those who she believes are threats to her and her family.

With all this being said, I tend to take the very opposite stance to everyone else on everything for this particular show.  At least from what I’ve seen so far for “online Animal Kingdom fans”.  Which is fine!  It’s good to see different opinions on these difficult to maneuver topics.  

(Thank you for being my very first Anon btw.  This was fun to answer! My inbox is always open to discuss this show which I love or any other Fandom anyone sees me talk about.)

[katsjourneyblog]

As I look down at the skin discoloration and new freckles on my sun-damaged arms and hands, I silently berate myself for not having stayed out of the sun or, at the very least, worn some serious sunscreen when I was younger.  The harsh reality is, once you cross over that proverbial middle-aged number (I like to think of it as a moving target, but I know in my heart of hearts I have long since crossed it), all your old vices and bad habits come back to haunt you.

I remember back in the 1990’s there was a song by Baz Luhrmann called “Everybody’s Free to Wear Sunscreen”.  It was actually more of a speech put to music than a song (click here to listen). Nevertheless, it contained copious amounts of good advice given to a graduating class. It got me to musing, what kind of advice would my older-self give today to my younger-self?

The first one would be to wear sunscreen. Seriously!  I remember in the summer months (and spring and fall whenever possible) in my youth going to the beach or the pool daily and absolutely baking every piece of my legally allowable visible skin.  Sunscreen? That was for sissies. I would slather on a greasy mixture of baby oil and iodine (yes iodine to stain the skin darker) and bake front side and back side in 30-minute increments for hours.

I went on a girl’s trip to the Bahamas after high school graduation and proudly compared myself to the many local’s deep coco skin. I was darker than half of them. Hey 19- year-old self: Dark tans on white girls do not make you look sexy (no matter what Hawaiian Tropic tells you), it only helps insure a visit from the melanoma fairy later in life. Not to mention the loss of elasticity and wrinkles. Argh! Wrinkles!

Secondly, your parents are going to give you good advice. But only to a point. That is right, those annoying adult people who kept laying all those rules on you for all your teenage years?  They were giving you good advice.  They are two of the most important people in your life and will always be, even after they are gone. And they have already crossed over to their middle age. They get it. They lived it. Listen to their advice and respect them. However, do not let their advice rule your decisions completely.  For example,  I thought about a career in The Arts (read starving artist) when we had to declare a major for higher education. My father steered me towards business because he felt I would make more money and have more stability. Their job was to protect and help keep things secure and comfortable. If I wanted to do something completely adventurous or risky, they would not have been especially supportive. Hey 19-year-old self: Go with your gut. If you feel strongly about doing something outside the box, DO IT.

Third, do not be so shy and cautious! Okay, you are doing better these last few years since the painfully shy child you were in grade school. But I see it still holds you back.  Do not be frightened to be bold. Speak up, reach out, take risks. The greater the risks, the greater the rewards. Remember when you were a freshman in high school and you excelled in Spanish class? You had the opportunity to be a year-long exchange student in Bolivia or Chile or some other exotic South American country, but you opted out because of some unfounded fear. That would have been one of the most amazing experiences of your life. And now you would not be struggling to have command of the Spanish language.  Hey 19-year-old self, it is time to become fearless and forget that you were ever shy.

Fourth, do not get caught up with classmates or friends making fun of people or being unkind. We all have our personal handicaps.  We are all trying to find where we fit in and how this world works. You are no more superior than anyone else on this earth. You may have better skills or opportunities or even beauty, but that does not give you license to be unkind or intolerant. Be a uniter not a divider. 

Fifth, do not play with people’s hearts.  Several men will fall in love with you in the future. Some relationships will be beautiful and some not so much. Most of them will end in an unpleasant way. You, most likely, will be the one ending it. Once you know the relationship is not working, be honest and up front.  Do not play with his heart. He will love you and he deserves to be treated with respect.  Make an effort to remain friends, if you desire. If you once really loved one another, he will always have a special place in your heart after the dust settles.

Sixth, eat healthy, drink less alcohol and stay fit.  Sounds silly now, right? You look pretty damn good and you don’t have to worry about weight gain or any health issues.  Guess what? Metabolism changes. Health changes. Suddenly you wonder how cholesterol levels can possibly creep up. And where the heck did those 5 extra kilos come from?  Stay fit for life starting now and don’t miss health check ups. Hey 19-year-old self, you will thank me later.

Seventh, never say “That will never happen to me.” in your cocky littler manner. You have no idea what will or will not happen to you until you live your life.

Eighth, learn to be more patient.  In the upcoming decades you are going to see massive changes in the way we communicate, in the way you do your job, in the way the politics shift. Everything that touches your life will change. For the only constant is change (no, it is not a cliché). This is going to require a lot of patience on your part. You are going to have to relearn and reprogram your brain and your lifestyle. Be patient, with not only your learning process, but with others as well.  Learning new things will be fantastic and also frustrating.  Practice patience.

Ninth, spend time around children and elderly. You don’t spend enough time around either. Start now. You will learn some amazing things from the raw truths spoken by both ends of the life-cycle spectrum.  Hey 19-year-old self, you won’t have kids of your own, but you will have plenty to love in India.

Tenth, travel every chance you can. Get out there and discover the world. It will expand your mind, make you more tolerant of different beliefs and thankful for what you have. And yes, you are off to a good start.

Eleventh, do not be so hard on yourself. You will meet plenty of people who will do that for you. You are smarter, cooler, prettier than you think. Just be happy in your  own skin. Hey 19-year old self, they are going to call you eccentric. Take it as a compliment. 

Lastly, get involved. Make a difference.  You have the power to make changes which will make our world better. Even if you don’t believe you can. You can.

You probably won’t take all this advice. I know you better by now than you know yourself. And trust me on the sunscreen!

Monday Musings. What woud you tell YOUR younger self?  Have a great week!

    Advice to my 19-year-old Self: Monday Musings As I look down at the skin discoloration and new freckles on my sun-damaged arms and hands, I silently berate myself for not having stayed out of the sun or, at the very least, worn some serious sunscreen when I was younger.