#i fell down a rabbit hole who am ii

[anincompletelist]

[ vol i | vol ii | vol iii | fic rec fridays ]

hi all! :D I have slowly but steadily been knocking things off of my tbr list, a few classics and a few newer fics, and they've been AMAZING! as per usual I wanted to share before the list gets too long for next time!

as always, please remember to leave kudos and a comment if you enjoyed the fic or show support in other ways, and be kind! mind the tags and if you come across something you dislike, please kindly (and quietly) move on.

happy new year and happy reading y'all! <3

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? | @hgejfmw-hgejhsf | T+ | 5k

When the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party is interrupted by a security threat, Henry, Pez, Nora, June, and Alex find themselves locked in the White House library for their own protection with nothing but time, a few bottles of champagne, and some lighthearted conversation, until a single question threatens to change everything for Henry.

(+ read their first au fic here ahh!)

muscle memory | @dumbpeachjuice | E | 30k

It's been ten years since Alex was in London to stage a PR friendship with Henry after ruining the royal wedding. It's also been ten years since Alex dropped to his knees in front of Henry in a Kensington Palace kitchen. But now Henry's in the Hamptons for the summer, and who should he bump into? None other than Alex Claremont-Diaz, who happens to be working in New York all summer long.

You Are the Wave I Could Never Tame | bleedingballroomfloor | E | 12k

That should be it. Henry is doing his job; the pool is getting cleaned, and Alex shouldn’t think anything more of it. Then why does he feel the slightest bit of disappointment when he walks back to the pool house and Henry isn’t there? Or, the pool boy Henry AU that I couldn't stop thinking about until I wrote it.

if evil, why so cute? | @everwitch-magiks | E | 5k

Alex’s cat hates Alex, but loves Henry, the Bookstagram influencer who’s on vacation in Alex’s quiet seaside town. And while Alex is pretty salty about his grumpy cat’s inexplicable affection for a complete stranger, he must admit he can see the appeal; Henry is fucking gorgeous. It’s why Alex follows him on Instagram in the first place. It's just, Alex had never thought he’d be officially introduced to Henry by his own goddamn cat. Or: Henry takes a two-week vacation to a seaside cabin with the intent to read a lot of books. Instead, he has a lot of sex.

Just like that | @myheartalivewrites | E | 10k

When Henry comes home from a date frustrated by the guy’s lack of expertise, Alex starts having thoughts. And then, because he’s Alex, he sticks his big foot in his even bigger mouth.

(@myheartalivewrites listen I fell down a rabbit hole ok and if I could rec your entire ao3 here I would -- OH WAIT I CAN)

In His Wildest Dreams | @myheartalivewrites | E | 11k

Set in and around the Henry bonus chapter, this is a story about Henry and Alex’s hectic schedules, family appearances etc. pulling them apart, and about what starts to happen between them, in the quiet of night: their sleeping bodies turning to each other, finding their sweet spots and opening up. And Alex and Henry learning a lot about each other in the process

Be Worthy Love, and Love Will Come | @sparklepocalypse | E | 30k

"For Christmas this year, all I would like is a best friend who doesn’t mind too much that I’m a prince. Most of my classmates poke fun because of who I am, or treat me like I’m too special to be their friend. I want a best friend who knows me as much as my family does and still likes me. I know that you can’t wrap a best friend up in a box and put it under the tree, but you’re magic so you know the best way to bring one." (Movieverse canon divergence; Prince Henry, age 8, writes to Father Christmas wishing for a best friend. A few weeks later, he finds one.)

A Picture on Your Corkboard | bleedingballroomfloor | M | 23k

It happens on a random morning in May when Alex, age fourteen, pads into the kitchen to greet his mother and steal a waffle from June's plate and sees a man sitting at their breakfast counter, reading a newspaper, a cup of coffee raised to his lips. Like he belongs. Like it's the most natural thing in the world. June doesn't seem to give the man a second thought. She merely flicks Alex on the forehead and takes back the waffle. Ellen isn't worrying, either. In fact, she's talking to him. Asking what his schedule is like. Making plans for dinner. Alex has never seen this man before in his life.

I want to mark my skin (it is paper thin) | @violetbaudelaire-quagmire | M | 10k

To: alex@biconicink.com From: hjfox@rocketmail.co.uk Subj: Tattoo Reference Attached: 1 file (orionsketch.jpg) Hello, Attached you’ll find a line art drawing of the constellation Orion. The shoulder blade is the intended location. Best, H.J. Fox [OR: It's a Tattoo Shop AU!]

(Dil)Do It Yourself | @happiness-of-the-pursuit | E | 16k

“Listen,” Nora starts, turning her body once more so that she’s sitting sideways in the chair with her legs thrown across the armrest. “I did the math. There’s a 79% chance you’re gonna become a slut to the power of the prostate, and while we’re not dating anymore, it’s my duty as your fellow slutty bisexual to get this party started.” Or, when Nora drags Alex to a holiday dildo workshop, he doesn’t expect to find someone to use it with.

just a figure of speech | @congee4lunch | E | 17k

“Like I said: Alphas really don’t know how to fuck.” “And like I said,” Alex sets down his mug and steps closer to Henry. “I can fuck and I know how to fuck you so well, you’ll see stars, baby.” [henry, an omega, hasn’t had good sex in a long time. as his alpha roommate and friend, alex can help with that. in a totally platonic bro way, of course]

+

saving some for next rec, I'll see you all then! enjoy, and remember to show support if you did! <3

xx

[slexenskee]

Ru-kun’s Excessive Guitar Collection

Fell down a rabbit hole debating what guitar Ru-kun plays and decided there was no reason to narrow it down to one lol. Also he’s totally the type to just have way more guitars (and shoes) then he could possibly ever use and should totally have one of those epic guitar walls whenever he gets around to making that recording room.

Squier Contemporary Jaguar HH ST Electric Guitar (Sky Burst Metallic): His first guitar. He bought it as a teenager living in Endeavor’s house to a) make noise and piss his father off and b) because he really liked the color. It’s still his favorite. He played it in his junior-high garage band Band Aids. Fans saw a bit of it during the first few years of No Scrubs’ live shows, back when they still played in tiny dive bars and Ru-kun was so close you could touch him 😭. It makes fans very nostalgic whenever they catch sight of it. 

Fender American Ultra Stratocaster Electric Guitar (Arctic Pearl): Another guitar he bought because it was very pretty (let’s be real, that’s the reason he bought all of them). Achieved critical acclaim as a fan favorite when Ken-chan grabbed it out of his hands on stage and threatened to beat a belligerent drunk out of the venue with it. She was talked out of it after Ru-kun said she’d have to pay for a new one if she busted it over some guy’s head. 

Gibson Les Paul Traditional Pro V Flame Top Electric Guitar (Blueberry Burst): Super glossy beautiful guitar with a great sound. Recorded the albums Thanks I Hate it Here and Good News for People Who Love Bad News with this guitar. He also gives it away in MDNSY Ch 39 to Shouto, who treasures this beauty as it deserves, even if he really doesn’t know how to play it all that well. 

Gretsch “Stump-O-Matic” Electromatic Electric Guitar (White): He really likes to play this one during live shows, very versatile and unfussy. Played it all throughout the ‘Scrubs Unite’ tour and eventually gives it away to Izuku in MDNSY Ch 38(?) and reclaims it briefly in FLW Ch 29 to play Say It Ain’t So. 

Gibson Lzzy Hale Signature Explorerbird Electric Guitar (Cardinal Red): His guitar for the “I’m never going to Hosu again” show Makoto dragged them all to during their hiatus in MDNSY Ch 15, aka the guitar he serenaded Tensei with 🤣 Also recorded Glass Onion Heart on this guitar, bc I love the idea of him playing Misery Business on this baby. He also posed for his magazine cover for Sound & Sundry in FLW Ch 20 with this guitar. 

D’Angelico Premier Series Gramercy LS Acoustic Guitar (Matte Sky Burst): I call this the Limitless guitar cause it’s just the perfect color to match his eyes lol. He went out and bought this just to record the acoustic album Tensei guilt-tripped him into making, Don’t You Know Who I (Think) I Am. Also serenaded Hawks with it during the No Scrubs radio interview with Present Mic in FLW Chapter 23. 

Fender American Pro II Stratocaster Electric Guitar (Miami Blue): Very cool vintage blue guitar he recorded Death Before Decaf on, bc I love the very neon 90′s era look and I love the idea of him playing Nirvana/Weezer/3EB tributes (even if no one knows they’re tributes) on it even more. It’s also Yui’s favorite guitar, for obvious reasons. Did he buy it because he knows it’s her favorite color? Probably. He already promised he’d never sell off his collection (gifting them is another story) but he especially promised not to part with this one. It’s a legacy guitar that’s going to end up in the hands of someone special someday (aka Eri lol)

Fender H.E.R Stratocaster (Chrome Glow): I have been told rather reliably by the mysteriously large amount of friends I have in indie bands that there’s no such thing as too many guitars, and on a related note, no such thing as too many Stratocasters. I am obsessed with H.E.R’s stratocaster and I can 100% envision it being custom made by Fender for Ru-Kun once No Scrubs reaches the international critical acclaim they deserve. He names it Infinity, and records the album Infinity on High with it. In recorded performances for the album he alternates between this one and the Gibson Explorerbird. 

Duesenberg USA Starplayer Electric Guitar (Crimson Red): Yet another stunning guitar with a very vintage vibe. I was so torn on whether I liked the black one or the red one more bc both are so beautiful. Let’s be real he probably buys both but plays the red one live just because it’s pretty and shiny and red always reminds him of Hawks’s wings ♡ Records the May Death Never Stop You album on this baby, and plays the tour of the same name. Also the guitar 

Taylor 614ce Special-Edition Grand Auditorium Acoustic-Electric Guitar: Has a lot of Feelings™ and goes out and drops 3k on this baby just because it reminds him of Hawks and that’s got him feeling a way and records his second acoustic album with it. He absolutely plays a lot of Anti-Hero on it, just bc the brand name lol 

[otmaaromanovas]

Why do you like The Romanovs?

hello anon! thank you for your question

I think that there are three parts to my answer, so I’ll split them up here

How I discovered them

I totally did not expect in any way to be into this history, so it was a total surprise for me, which intrigued me more! I was hesitant about signing up for my history course when I found out it had a Russian history section as I’d never studied anything like it before so didn’t expect to enjoy it very much. But from the first lesson, I fell in love with it. From there it felt like every new thing I learnt was awesome because I totally didn’t expect to like it. My history teacher mentioned Alexei and struggled to remember OTMA’s names, so I jotted them down, then researched from there. I’m one of those people who likes to write down anecdotes and asides then go on rabbit holes researching them, which definitely happened here :) three years later still very, very obsessed! 

2. Sources and misinformation 

We are very lucky that there are copious primary sources on the Romanovs - letters, diaries, thousands of photographs, newspaper articles, video footage, autobiographies and memoirs - I’m always looking for new things to learn and very fortunate that I am often to able to discover them! The photographs and private albums of the Romanovs are what first really sparked my interest. To have a royal family so keen on photography and those photographs actually surviving is wonderful!! There’s a taste of domesticity, particularly in the children’s albums, which feels unimaginable. The best way I can describe it is that, for example, when I see in albums Tatiana taking photos of her puppy Ortipo or Anastasia pulling a funny face I can giggle and think ‘yeah, I do that!’. It crosses the distance in time and status and makes them appear human, rather than royals in history book pages. 

Also, there’s something fun in trying to uncover the real history, rather than the sensationalist and dramatised views which is presented in western media. Whenever I mention what my main area of study is the questions usually instantly concern Anastasia or Rasputin, so being able to provide more context to curious people is a cool added bonus. There’s also a bit of unravelling to do with the history. Lots of 20th century biographies tend to be riddled with hyperbole and a rather heavy amount of misogyny (especially towards Alexandra), go unpicking that and trying to find the most accurate interpretations keeps me on my toes. 

Lastly, there are some crossovers with my other areas of interest, especially LGBTQ+ history. So many Romanovs, from the 15th - 20th centuries had complex identities and sexualities, with some even writing very candidly about it. These are invaluable sources that I’m incredibly grateful have survived, especially in today’s political climate in Russia. It’s evidence that no amount of repressive laws and propaganda will change Russia’s undeniably queer past.

3. Connections

Researching OTMA leads to lots of other Romanov people, such as Olga Alexandrovna, Mikhail Alexandrovich, Pierre Gilliard, etc. When names start cropping up often when I’m researching, it’s fun to have a look into their lives too, and understand why they were important to the Grand Duchesses. From this there’s a whole other world of the Romanovs apart from OTMA who lived very different and very rich lives which are fascinating to explore. I buy books about Nicholas II and his family occasionally these touch on other characters, for example, historians like Charlotte Zeepvat really bring to life the lesser talked about Romanovs and suddenly their lives are incredibly vivid, too! 

I’m always so surprised by how much Romanov-related stuff and Imperial Russia crops up in general history. Whether it’s history of fashion, agriculture, social, politics, etc, you’re guaranteed that they’ll be a touch of Tsarism that influenced it. It’s so fascinating seeing how deep-rooted this empire was in history and then contrast that with its downfall. 

I think it’s also important to note that I am, of course, very distances from this history. There’s a huge discrepancy between my life and Imperial Russia, both in terms of geography and policies. In a way, I think that I love it ‘from a distance’, not so much in love with the period itself or it’s people (with OTMAA being the exception), but with its history, legacy, and story. 

This was *very* long winded but I had some time to reflect, and it was fun to think about! Sorry for overloading you, anon! I’d love to know what other people think and what makes the Romanovs so intriguing to them :)

[blindrapture]

THURSDAY MAY 26TH, 2011 (Aubade feat. Mistress Dread)

1:39 AM What the hell. Leicester Square. I mean. We, uh.. well, we fell unconscious. Donnie says she was knocked out and woke up at the same time as me. I don’t know what happened; no one is around. But Leicester is just down the street from Piccadilly. Thank you?

1:45 AM To get Donnie to actually say something, I asked what albums she wants to get. Now she won’t shut up. :3

1:50 AM Piccadilly Circus! Okay, I know exactly where we are now.

1:52 AM I hear cawing again.

1:54 AM I can see something in the skies. I can’t quite make it out.

1:59 AM HMV

2:03 AM HMV is a huge store, three floors. The first floor has all kinds of music and I love it. Contrary to Donnie’s expectations, and to an extent my own, this building is as deserted as the streets outside it. What happened to London?

2:06 AM They’re all out of Emerson, Lake & Palmer’s Tarkus. Dammit. AND THE DETHALBUM II SERIOUSLY I HATE YOU

2:08 AM Some of this stuff costs a lot of money. Not anymore! Ah, business. The best part of any zombie apocalypse.

2:10 AM Donnie’s been gone a while. She said she was going to grab a movie she wanted real quick, but I haven’t seen her in five minutes. I’m going upstairs. Keeping Tiger Stripes close as usual.

2:13 AM We’re out, we’re out, we’re out, got her to the first floor, we’re fine. Donnie was just standing there staring at this thing. It was tall, in a heavy black cloak and this.. mask thing. A long mask, looked like a giant beak. Like.. like Ace, from RubyQuest. Like his mask. I’m gonna call it Ace Man. Anyway, he’s upstairs, we’re down here, we’re fine. I told Donnie not to go back up there, not to worry about Ace Man. If he comes down here, we’ll go, but not everything in this crazy world seems to want to kill us necessarily.

2:16 AM Found a CD player. Playing music now. <:D

2:20 AM Donnie’s just sitting in the fetal position. I’m gonna see what’s wrong.

2:25 AM God. Wow. She’s.. she says she feels like she’s got bugs in her skin. She says she can feel them all crawling under there, infecting her, muddling up her thoughts, her speech, her everything. We’ve got to get going. I’ve packed up all my CDs, she says she’s got her stuff, we’ve got to go.

2:28 AM I heard something as we were leaving. Looked back, it was Ace Man. Following us, just gliding down the stairs. We’re running now.

2:30 AM Hiding. Behind a dumpster. Dark alley. I sure fucking hope there’s no zombies back here; that’d just make my day.

2:31 AM I don’t think he’s still chasing us. I don’t see him anywhere. It’s like he vanished once he left HMV. I do see lots of graffiti, though! “FEAR THEM,” “RAPTURE IS COMING,” “FEAR THE RAPTURE,” stuff like that. “EVEN DEATH MAY DIE.” Oh, real philosophical, buddy. Betcha he was drunk. “EMBRACETHEARCHANGEL.” More drunk writing, this time forgetting spaces. “IT’S SO COLD HELP.” Must have been written a long time ago; it’s May. “WATCH OUT FOR THE CAWS” might refer to the cawing I’ve been hearing recently. No answers, though. Dammit. “DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES.” Ah, see? I’m not the only one who calls them that! “TRIED TO FORTIFIE HMV, DO NOT DO THIS IT IS BEACON TERRITORY.” ..hm. “THE RAPTURE CAME BECAUSE KIRK HAMMETT TURNED OFF HIS WAH-WAH PEDAL”

2:55 AM We’ve found a hotel. It seems empty enough. We’re gonna get some real sleep, then we’ll talk about what’s next in the morning.

5:21 AM MOTHERFUCKER FUCK It was in the bathroom oh my god it was in the bathroom WHAT THE FUCK WAS IT I’m gonna look again. MOTHERFUCKER

5:22 AM It’s.. it’s like.. it’s the shape of a guitar, right? Yet just the general shape, that’s all. The eyes are on the ‘neck.’ There are eight. Eight eyes, that is. It, uh.. it had legs. Of course. Five legs. And it was blue. There were tons of eyestalks growing out of the ground around it. I’m gonna call it Gtheru. Like.. Cthulu and Guitar Hero. And now I’m gonna kill it, brb!

5:23 AM Another natural wonder of this apocalypse, and now it’s dead. I should probably stop writing “brb;” that’s.. well, it doesn’t do anything.

5:31 AM Fuck, now I can’t sleep.

5:35 AM (poorly-drawn doodles of Jordan and Donnie having sex)

5:37 AMGod, I hope she doesn’t read this. I like to think that all of this is, like.. the opposite of me.

5:39 AM Y’know what would suck? If it turned out Donnie was an apocalyptic monster too. If she was the type that could read minds. My god, that’d suck. No wonder she’s been quiet, staying away from me. I’m a creep. ._.;;

6:02 AM Hello, hotel hallway. …alliteration oh my god that was cool.

6:03 AM ELEVATOR YAAAAY :DDDD

6:04 AM I went to the 32nd floor. I didn’t even know any buildings in England went this high. Shows what I know.

6:05 AM Wait. No. It was a rabbit hole.This door here leads to a completely separate building.

6:06 AM Huh. I just went back down the elevator, now I’m back in the normal hotel. Okay, so I guess you can leave the rabbit holes. I assumed they were one-way. What else we got?

6:10 AM Goddamn, there’s nothing cool anywhere.

6:12 AM The public bathroom has graffiti. I like graffiti. “EAT IS IN THE THAMES” is on a stall wall. I don’t think that sentence has proper grammar, sir. ..at all. “WHERE IS SAFE???” Good question. Are all the question marks really necessary, though? “SEES ME AT THE TOWER.” Ha, very nice. I’ll give you credit; that made me smile. “THEY HAVE US TRAPPED DON’T TRY TO LEAVE.” “BLOOD ALL OVER THE WALLS DON’T TRY TO LEAVE.” “FEAR HAS TAKEN OVER THE CITY DON’T TRY TO LEAVE.” “WOODEN SKIN DON’T TRY TO LEAVE WOODEN SKIN DON’T TRY TO LEAVE WOODEN SKIN.” “^ He is mistaken, Jordan. Feel free to leave anytime. <3” ……….o_o;; Someone knew I was coming? I’m.. I’m gonna check out the women’s bathroom.

6:15 AM Ah, these are much more coherent. “DOES ANYONE KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON?” “^ YES. RAPTURE.” “^ THAT’S BULLSHIT. IT’S TERRORISTS, THEY’VE TAKEN OVER.” “^ THAT’S EVEN MORE BULLSHIT!” Ah, this one has.. a really long analysis on terrorism and how it’s got nothing to do with this. “^ COOL STORY BRO.” God, I love girls. Lemme check the next stall.

6:18 AM “I KNOW THE REAL SCOOP. IT’S FEARS.” ‘Fears.’ That’s come up quite a few times by now. “’RAPTURE’ WAS JUST A COINCIDENCE. IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS HELL.” I can believe that. “I DON’T KNOW EXACTLY WHAT’S HAPPENING, BUT I’VE DONE ENOUGH RESEARCH. PLEASE LISTEN.��� Yes, ma’am. This looks interesting; I’ll write it all down. “THE FEARS ARE NOT EXPLAINABLE. THEY CHANGE PER PERSON. ”AS MANY EXIST AT A TIME AS YOU FEAR. I CAN’T EXPLAIN WHEN IT HAPPENED, BUT IT DID. “THE OTHERS, THE NON-FEARS, SEEM TO BE FOOTSOLDIERS. NOT AS IMPORTANT? HARD TO TELL. “THIS REALLY ISN’T THE KIND OF THING YOU CAN JUST EXPLAIN, THOUGH. I’LL KEEP TRYING. “THE RABBIT HOLES ARE THE KEY.” ..it ends there. Lemme check the next stall.

6:24 AM “DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES “FOR THE SAKE OF THE WORLD, DON’T GO DOWN THE RABBIT HOLES” fuckshutupshutup

6:29 AM Someone. In. The bathroom. I think it’s Donnie. I think. I’m not going to risk it yet. Whoever it is, she’s walking slowly.

6:31 AM She didn’t enter a stall. She’s standing in front of the sink nearby. I’m going to peek underneath. MOTHERFUCKER ohgodkeepquietkeepquietshhhhh

6:33 AM ohhhhgoddd it hasn’t moved yet I looked under. It had bent over and was staring at me. I didn’t get a good glimpse; it looked like.. a girl, but not. Just not. I’m looking again. If it’s still looking, I’ll try to figure out what it is.

6:34 AM ihateyouwhydidyouletmedothat It’s still bent over, looking at me. But it’s closer. I didn’t hear it move closer. It just was. At least a whole stall closer. It looked wooden. I think it was like a marionette. ..”wooden skin don’t try to leave.” ….fuck. I’m gonna listen closely. If it moves, I’m running for it. If it doesn’t in a couple minutes, I’ll look once more.

6:35 AM Goddamn, these are the longest couple minutes ever. FUCK IT I’M LOOKING dfisfijdjidf CLOSER YEP IT’S CLOSER It’s two stalls away. Oh my god, it’s two stalls away, but it’s still out by the sinks. It doesn’t move. It just waits.

6:36 AM godddd why is this happening now in a girl’s bathroom this would be a shitty place to die

6:37 AM One more time, look one more time and that’s it, Jordan. ……it’s not thfdsifdsfdskoffkjs OKAY OKAY OKAY IT it’s in the stall next to me IT’S IN THE STALL NEXT TO ME, OH MY GOD FUCK IT RUNNING RUNNING FUCK

6:38 AM I AM SO CONFUSED RIGHT NOW OH MY GOD. "Write. Go on, write it out." yes, ma’am. >_< The… I ran out. Then I tripped. I was in a panic, okay? I tripped, and immediately, the.. the… that aforementioned.. marionette came out. Immediately, I… godI’msoconfused. ACK YES MA’AM SHE’S SITTING ON MY BACK. I LOVE BEING SAT ON OH MY GOD BUT THIS.. SHE’S SCARY. "You can still write. It's what you want to do. And it's cute!" a giggle. She’s telling me everything I want to hear. She’s.. awesome. But she’s so creepy. She says to call her “Mistress.” Won’t give anything else. She won’t answer any of my questions. She says she’s got the power to kill me right now if she wants to. She says she knows me inside and out. She says she knows what’s best for me, what’s worst for me. She says she’ll guide me, she’ll lead me through the “Rapture.” She told me to write those quotation marks. Her voice is so nice. Mistress is so nice. Mistress normally puts her strings in anyone who comes near, makes them a human puppet, strips them of their free will. But Mistress says she has a fetish, a “free will” fetish. Mistress says she’s been waiting for someone who will obey her of his own free will. Mistress says I’m perfect for her, I’m not a slave but a pet. Mistress says she’ll call me “slave” if she wants to, but I’m her de facto pet. Mistress even used the term “de facto,” I love her but she's...

Mistress says the time is 12:30 PM. Mistress wrote the message on that one stall especially for me. The message with the heart. Mistress will let me go, Mistress won’t kill me. Mistress will find me where I sleep next. Mistress will show me more of the joys of being a pet. Mistress is going to get up now, to let me leave. I am going to leave this hotel. I am going to take Donnie and we are going to leave this hotel. I’m so confused.

6:46 AM I can’t bring myself to do anything. I’m just sitting in the hotel lobby. I think I’m happy? I should do as she said. I mean, she’s letting me leave. I get the feeling she really doesn’t normally do that. Just.. please. Oh god. Let’s not mention this to Donnie. Okay?

6:52 AM We’re out. We’re out of the hotel. Donnie and I. We’re going to the troper house. Like we originally agreed on. The one in Blackpool. Google said it’d take us three days by walking. What a joy.

7:01 AM I asked how Donnie’s night was. She says she kept dreaming about the bugs inside her skin. She asked how mine went, why we had to leave so early. “Rabbit hole. Dead end. Zombies.” It’s all I said; I can’t.. god. I feel so fucking weird. I’m not sure if she bought it. Then again, she’s been pretty caught up in the bug thing that she’s pretty distracted. Now she’s talking about how wrong and desolate the bugs make her feel and she’s talking about her mother. Maybe I’m the distracted one, ‘cause I’m not.. entirely listening. But I don’t know what I am doing. I’m just.. here.

8:16 AM Our journey is pretty uneventful. I think the lack of zombies in London was the first sign. The bathroom just confirmed it. We’re being spared. But why? We’re not the heroes who are gonna save the world, are we? I mean, for one thing, this isn’t some cheesy adventure movie. But let’s say it was, okay? Let’s say it was. We’re not even Action Survivor material. We’re just… stupid. Fucking stupid, that’s what we are. That’s all we are. We’ll only amount to nothing, and Mistress only proved it. I want to obey her, dammit. Any self-respecting protagonist wouldn’t do that even if it were the last choice on Earth. I’m just stupid, a fucking dumbass. I’m siding with the bad guys, for God’s sake. I might suck.

9:45 AM Overcast day. Don’t fucking care. Long walk ahead, and we don’t seem to be resting. Because we’re stupid, we’re foolish, we’re overzealous. The bad guys are only sparing us because they realize we’re too stupid to bother with.

10:01 AM Not even the zombies we find will bother looking in our direction.

10:32 AM Fuck, we’re resting already? God, we’re so stupid. No way am I sleeping.

4:29 PM I slept. And there she is, a short figure in the shadows. No glowing eyes, nothing strange, just a wooden girl, limbs creaking as she steps up to my bed. "I said I'd be here." You did. "I said I'd find you where you sleep next." Yes, ma'am. You did. "Get on the floor."

4:30 PM Will Donnie know? "She's out like a light, that one. No one will know about our little indiscretion. No one except you, me, and your journal." Yes, ma'am "Shush." hit me "I want to talk a bit. "I'm not a monster, you know. I'm not one of the bad guys. You can side with me. It may even be in your best interests to, I'll make you the happiest pet in the world so long as you show complete faith in me. I have some friends I like to talk to, fellow gods, and you know my being friends with them makes me a god too. Maybe, if you're good, you can meet them too. Maybe I can talk them out of wearing your skin like a hat. We'll have to see, won't we?" stroking my hair. wooden hand. "You just have to stop doubting me." What… "It's okay, you may speak." ..what must I do for you? u_u

4:33 PM she is all wood. hard to the touch. hard to the.. face. now she stands in front of me. "Not bad... you could be just what I've been dying for. Say 'thank you.'" Thank you. "…" Thank you, ma'am. "I want you to continue your journey. See? Our goals are the same. Only my goals are more long-term. I have many plans in my head, so many things I will do in this world. You're going to Blackpool. I know exactly what you're doing, and I like it. So, go! Go to Blackpool. Go with your Donnivan. Try to keep me a secret, try all you want, I'll go along with that for now, but no promises." put her wooden face at my forehead, made a big sniffing sound. smelled my hair? "Take the rabbit holes. They'll help you get there faster. That's what they're there for, faster transport." Do you ever take them? "Only all the time! Duh! Don't you worry about what I do." What about all the warnings not to enter?

4:34 PM She taped my mouth shut. I didn't even know we had tape. "You don't even dislike this." I. Can't hide that. "Am I your favorite? Your favorite... hmm, what's the word... horror?" nod patted my head. "Those warnings, don't pay attention to them. There are a lot of idiots in this world who are too afraid of the unknown. Go down the next rabbit hole you find. If you obey, I might use rope next time…" owo;;; "That's just for the very good boys, though. I still don't know how good you are. Maybe you won't even do this one little thing for me. Maybe you're too scared to go down more rabbit holes. But know this…" holding my chin up with a finger "If you don't do this for me, I won't appear to you next time you sleep." :c "I'd give you a night to think about your disobedience. And then I'll come to you the next night, and gut you with my strings until you no longer have a choice in the matter." ...o__o;; "Okay?" giggle "Follow me? The difference between being my pet and being my puppet is obedience and unconditional obedience alone." I'll obey! I'll go down the very next rabbit hole I see!!! see my journal!!! see!! read my words!!! "We'll have to see, won't we?" :C "Donnie won't wake up for at least another hour. Get comfy."

(The next few pages are filled with misshapen drawings of Jordan and an unnamed girl doing various things) (Only two of the seven drawings are sexual.) (The last page was clearly drawn by someone else. It was of Jordan as a marionette, strings attached to all his joints.) (DISOBEDIENCE is written below.)

Mistress says the time is 5:58 PM. Mistress is getting up now. Mistress "forgot" to ungag me. ...Mistress walked out of the room humming "Beautiful Stranger." I.. I don’t feel as confused. I mean, she seems to be helping me. She really seems to be looking out for me. Donnie’s up now. I’m trying to take off this tape, but it’s pretty.. painful. Hiding my face. Hiding the tape.

5:59 PM I’m not very good at hiding myself. Donnie caught me. …she’s not even trying to remove the tape.

8:13 PM The last few hours were spent with Donnie dragging me along the motorway. She made me carry her stuff. .w. She finally removed the tape and asked me why I decided to put it on in the first place. “I figured you’d like it.” I got a hug. Oh Jordan, you sly dog. We’re making good progress so far. We might not even need the rabbit hole.

8:14 PM ..and immediately, we walk by a puppet shop. Fuck that, we’ve gotta find that rabbit hole.

8:25 PM I’m looking in every direction I can think of, trying to think of where a rabbit hole might be. Donnie asked what’s up, told her I need a rabbit hole. I told her it’s for a secret. Now she knows I have a secret, fuck.

8:50 PM Okay, Donnie’s agreed to checking this hotel we just found. I sure fucking hope there’s a rabbit hole, oh god please let there be a rabbit hole I don’t want to disobey! >_<

8:59 PM OH THANK GOD RABBIT HOLE Donnie found it. Like the last one, it was an elevator. This hotel clearly doesn’t go to the 50th floor.

9:00 PM It’s a sewer. Or.. I mean, it’s a wet floor. We’re up to our ankles in some sort of liquid.

9:04 PM There’s a light ahead.

9:05 PM The light is coming from the ceiling. I can’t even see the ceiling; the light’s just coming dowdsfdsf ..I stepped into the light. I immediately started floating. I’m now in the above room. It’s some type of.. technological… thing. Maybe a UFO got me. Donnie’s followed. There’s a hallway here, but it’s nothing but sheer light. Move into the light!

9:31 PM where am I This is a gas chamber. Where’d the door go?

9:32 PM HANDS DOZENS OF HANDS RISING OUT OF THE GROUND HITTING THEM AS HARD AS I CAN

9:33 PM ONE GRABBED MY FOOT OH MY GOD WHACK IT WHACK IT

9:34 PM A DOOR GOTTA GO TO THE DOOREJSGJDU THE DOOR HAS A MOUTH ON IT.

9:35 PM EAT GUITAR CONTROLLER, DOORMOUTH. FUCKER I DIDN’T MEAN REALLY GIVE THAT BACK ohgod it’s covered in saliva now. That door’s out of the question.

9:36 PM ALL THESE FUCKING HANDS OH MY GOD FUCKER FUCKER FUCKER

9:37 PM FUCK IT I’M TRYING TO ACTUALLY OPEN THE DOOR …IT WORKED ohhhhgodwhere am I now? WAIT SLAM THE DOOR SHUT Kay, now where am I now?

9:38 PM This is a hospital. I’m in an hospital hallway.

9:40 PM A poster on the wall gave me the impression I’m in Birmingham. Where’s Donnie, though?

9:41 PM HEARD A SCREAM DOWN THIS WAY

9:42 PM CAFETERIA, THAT’S WHERE IT WAS, DOOR’S JAMMED BREAKING IT DOWN

9:43 PM MOTHERFUUUUUUCKERRRRRRR DIE NO NO I KILLED YOU DIE DIE DIE DIE I’M GETTING TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIIIIIIIT DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE

9:52 PM THERE, MOTHERFUCKER IS DEAD. I KICKED IT; IT IS DEAD. MOTHERFUCKER WAS A RAKE. That is, The Rake, the creepypasta thing with the claws and stuff. But I killed it already. What the hell. Checking cafertetf9jdff9 YOU’RE NOT DEAD?!?! SLAMMING DOOR, LOCKING, BARRICADING.

9:55 PM Donnie’s in here; she helped me barricade the door. She’s got a nasty slash mark on her cheek. That. Asshole. Is. DEAD.

9:56 PM I told Donnie how I killed the fucking Rake already. She brought up the possibility of there being more than one. I asked how that could be possible. She brought up the apocalypse. She does have a point.

9:57 PM I can hear the motherfucker roaring out there, clawing away at the door. I told Donnie to be ready with her frying pan. We’re gonna team up on the fucker as soon as the door’s down.

9:59 PM This is taking a while. I’m starting to have second thoughtsFUCK GET IT GET IT DIE DIE DIE

10:00 PM FUCKERRRRRR

10:03 PM DEAD. OKAY? OKAY. I TOOK ITS HEAD, JUST IN CASE. IT IS DEAD. Oh my god, maybe we’re not such useless ‘fools’ after all. I’m just gonna sit down and throw up a second, brb. x__x;

10:07 PM We’ve taken a look around. As always, this place is pretty deserted. No zombies or anything. Seriously, what kind of apocalypse is this? We’re definitely in Birmingham. I have no idea how far that is.

10:10 PM Found a computer, fuck yes. …internet’s still up? o_o

10:11 PM Google Maps says we’re at least halfway done with our journey. A day and a half of walking left. That rabbit hole seriously did help. Why don’t people want us using them?

10:16 PM Went on TVTropes. Made sure those nice people were still alive, still offering their place to stay. They are. …god, I feel like all this is going too well. I know I shouldn’t say that; I should savour each miracle, but still, y’know?

10:42 PM Went on AIM Express. Fentzy was on. We spoke for a while. Fentzy says she’s okay, the “Rapture” finally hit her in Connecticut but she’s easily surviving. Family’s barricaded in their home. That’s good. ..Danny?

10:48 PM Danny Finnegan says he’s got a mission. He’s pissed over something. Won’t tell me. He says the “Rapture’s” hit him hard, and all this shit is happening. He says he’s managing, but he asks if I could find some way to meet up with him. I.. I mean… I don’t see how, but I told him I’d try. I mean, I wouldn’t mind going back to the States. And Donnie once said she has someone there, I think. Danny asked if I’ve run into any mole-man-like creatures with rakes for hands. I asked if he meant the Rake, from the story. Turns out we’ve got the same problem, except he’s only had one, and he hasn’t killed it. He’s currently telling me about some guy in a gas mask. Says that’s who he’s trying to kill. Says the gas mask guy might just be the answer to all the world’s problems. Says the gas mask guy might just literally be the Grim Reaper, Death himself. I don’t think I have the energy to be skeptical about that right now.

10:49 PM I said I’d keep an eye out. Gotta go, Donnie’s calling.

10:50 PM Kay, we’re back to our journey.

10:58 PM On the motorway now. It’s getting dark.

10:59 PM I can hear the cawing again. It sounds much closer. I can definitely see something in the skies, coming closer. It’s too dark to make it out.

11:00 PM Lightning. …it’s gone. The cawing’s stopped, the thing in the skies has just.. vanished. What the hell.

11:11 PM I WISH I HAD A GIRLFRIEND I WISH I HAD A GIRLFRIEND I WISH I HAD A GIRLFRIEND And not Mistress, please? Sorry. I mean, as Dave Mustaine once said, “I Ain’t Superstitious,” but I still like to make a wish at 11:11.

11:36 PM Survivor? It’s a man. He’s crying loudly, curled up in the centre of the motorway. I can’t see his face. If he wasn’t a man, I’d swear he’s acting just like a Witch from Left 4 Dead. Donnie wants to go see what’s up.

11:38 PM The man is running away from her. I told Donnie not to pursue. I mean, he clearly doesn’t want our help.

11:52 PM There’s that man again. Crying like last time. Fuck this. I’m keeping Tiger Stripes close and I’m gonna see what’s up.

11:59 PM oh hey there

(Attached: “I hate reading these old things, I hate seeing how I once behaved. I had no idea, did I? Can I even say I do now? Sometimes I lay awake asking the sky why I’d ever been born– what’s the significance of the sky, again? Open-source playground, wasn’t it?– I never get an answer, but still I ask, because there’s nothing else to do in this apocalypse. Nothing to do but ask. Ask and hurt people. But I only want to ask now. The world hates me, and I know exactly why they do, and I hate me, and.. I don’t know what to do with the information.”)

[PREV LOG] [TABLE OF CONTENTS] [NEXT LOG]

[pixiegrl]

You Are My Horizon

Jack comes to visit Rian at work. Rian's hopelessly in love.

Alright lets take it from the top:

Bet you never saw ATL fic coming from me? Well, here it is. Once again, this is part of a larger fic I'm writing. I'm blaming Rian's v-day thirst trap and Jack just being, you know, Jack for writing this. The only important thing to know going into this is that Rian and Jack are dating, Jack is trans, and that Rian works at a tattoo parlor owned by Ashton and Calum. The tattoo parlor is across from the flower show Luke (also trans) and Michael (non-binary) own.

Second: big thanks to @tigerteeff for whom I write all trans content. Thanks for listening to me yell about Trans Jack he is a special boy and I love him. Thanks to @lifewasradical @cakelftv @blackbutterfliescal and @staticsounds for listening to me yell about this fic (and the flower shop/tattoo parlor verse) and telling me how emo in a good way this is. I love you all dearly.

on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29500365

Rian’s sketching out the tattoo he’s designing when Jack comes into the back area of the parlor. He sighs dramatically, dropping himself into Rian’s lap and straddling him.

“Babe,” Jack whines.

“Hello to you too. Who’s watching Cam?”

“The puppy can be left alone for like an hour. I’ve been home all day. I missed you.”

“You saw me this morning.”

“That was hours ago. It’s like almost 5:00pm. I missed you,” Jack says, dropping his head down, resting it under Rian’s chin. Rian sighs, putting his pencil down and running his hands under Jack’s shirt. Jack sighs, pressing a kiss to Rian’s neck, easing into the touch. Rian likes Jack, all long legs and lean muscle, the contrast he is to Rian himself. He’s dyed his hair recently, a soft shade of blonde that contrasts with the dark hair of his beard. Rian remembers how excited Jack was about the beard when he started growing it, crowing that getting the hysterectomy finally helped him grow the hair that being on T didn’t. Jack’s painfully handsome these days, angled cheekbones and jaw framed by his beard, comfortable in his own skin. Jack has a soft smile on his face, as he pulls back, kissing Rian on the lips softly. 

They trade soft kisses for a few moments before Jack pulls back, grinning mischievously.

“No,” Rian says.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“You may not suck my dick at my place of work.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not sanitizing the whole workstation.”

Jack sighs dramatically, flopping onto Rian, “But you have to do that anyway.”

“And I’m not letting you get this place dirty. Or risking someone walking in on us Jack, these are my co-workers.”

“Spoil sport,” Jack says. Rian huffs a laugh, letting Jack steal his snapback and put it on. He snuggles into Rian’s side, watching him sketch out the flowers.

“What’s this one?”

“Tattoo for a client. She wants a whole bouquet for flowers for her family.”

“Isn’t that Sierra’s thing? The flowers?”

“She wants it in watercolor.”

“So your speciality.”

“My speciality,” Rian says. Jack hums, getting a hand underneath Rian’s shirt, tracing his abs lightly as he keeps watching Rian. He has to be uncomfortable, at the angle he’s at but Jack makes no move to change his position.

“Why don’t you head home? I have to finish this sketch up and it’s not going to be very interesting for you,” Rian says, after Jack shifts for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“I don’t want to head home though. Wanna go with you.”

“You drove your car here Jack. You’d be going home without me anyway.”

“I don’t want to go home and wait around for you though. I want to wait here, with you. I want to spend time with you,” Jack says, pouting lightly. Rian sighs, heart soft. He ducks his head down pressing a kiss to Jack’s temple. Jack laughs, scrunching his nose up. He rests his head on Rian’s shoulder, watching as Rian works on the sketch around Jack’s long limbs.

“You know, I didn’t see myself being 32,” Jack says, just barely above a whisper. Rian stops what he’s doing, turning his attention to the boyfriend in his lap.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. At 15 I didn’t see myself making it to 20. I was a depressed teen, self-harming because I hated the way I looked and that I couldn’t understand what was going on. I thought I’d kill myself before 20 trying to figure it out. Then, I was 20 and I couldn’t see myself at 25. I finally had the words to understand what I was feeling and who I was, but then you’re going through therapists and doctors, people are giving you papers and reports and explanations and telling you how much money it all is to just be yourself. I thought I’d die under the stress of it all, the constant feeling of just having to fight to be myself,” Jack says, shrugging. 

He picks at the edge of Rian’s shirt, pulling at a loose thread there, head resting on Rian’s shoulder, nose touching his neck. Rian puts his pencil down, stroking his hand over Jack’s back, letting Jack nuzzle into him. They sit there for a few moments in silence before Rian finally works up the courage to ask Jack his question.

“What about at 25?” Rian asks, soft, squeezing Jack’s hip lightly.

“I got the right therapist. I went on T. They finally approved things and I had the money for my top surgery. There was light at the end of the tunnel. And then I met you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I love who I am, don’t get me wrong. I love being trans and I love being myself and I’m happy with myself. It took me so long to get there, but I love myself. But it’s hard, when you’re two months out of top surgery, when your voice still cracks, when you’re worried about how everyone else will see you, to picture someone loving you the way you love yourself. Especially when they look like you,” Jack says. He tilts his head up, looking at Rian, eyes a little wet. Rian laughs, breathless, at the idea of it all. 

He remembers meeting Jack with the sort of clarity that only comes with the certainty of knowing that this is your person, with the knowledge to capture this moment, so you can tell your family, your friends, write it into your wedding vows, tell it to your children. Alex had invited him to the back to school brunch he hosted with Lisa every year before school started. Rian had grumbled about it, considering he’s not a teacher what does it matter, but Alex has insisted that as his oldest friend Rian should come (he found out later Alex had intentionally done it to try and set him and Jack up, but Rian can’t really be mad about it). He’d found Jack, with his grown out emo fringe and home dyed red hair, standing by the music, trying to hijack it to play Blink-182 and complaining that Alex never let him have his way. Rian had found himself hopelessly enamored, listening to Jack rant about music and the merits of not teaching Romeo and Juliet to bored teens when Shakespeare has better plays. Rian had been so caught up in what Jack was saying, he hadn’t even noticed brunch had ended until Alex kicked them both out. Brunch had led to late lunch, led to dinner, led to Rian taking Jack for ice cream just so he didn’t have to leave, giving Jack his number and waiting for a phone call. Rian doesn’t think there’s ever been a time he wasn’t enamored by Jack, hopelessly in love with him from the moment Jack had demanded to see Rian’s Blink-182 tattoo. 

“What do you mean someone who ‘look like me’?”

“Handsome, masculine, rugged. You’re a tattoo artist and you work out and you’re like the kind of guy I wanted to be when I was a teen except I’m not. I’m me and there’s nothing wrong with me, but like compared to you. I’m the dorky English teacher. I’m all tall and lanky and stuff.”

“I love dorky English teacher Jack.”

“I know you do. You look at me with such love and adoration it hurts sometimes. The first time you told me you loved me I went home and cried,” Jack says. He’s sitting up now, arms draped over Rian’s shoulders, tears in his eyes. Rian, reaches up, brushing them away. 

“You did what?” Rian asks, quiet.

“I cried. I cried because you were everything teenage Jack dreamed of and couldn’t have. You loved me and loved me and you didn’t care that my voice cracked or about the scars or about anything else that made me feel self-conscious at the time because it was new and fresh. The first time you called me your boyfriend I didn’t know what to do. I felt so special and loved. You just loved me and it felt so real. And I was 25 and for the first time, I could picture myself at 30, at 40, at 50 because I could picture my life, I could picture sharing my life with you. And now I’m 32 and I want to tell teenage Jack that it’s worth it, all the waiting is worth it because you’re here. You’re here and I love you so much Ri,” Jack says. He’s crying now, eyes red, nose red. Rian pulls him into a hug, realizes he’s crying too.

“Well, I love you. You’re a hurricane and I never expected to fall in love the way I did with you, but god did I. I was so worried that first day if I let you go home, if I let you leave, you’d forget all about me. Except you kept calling me and texting me and then you practically moved into my house and I didn’t want to let you go. We have a home, a life, a dog. It’s everything I pictured when I was 17 and realized I liked guys too.” 

“Guess we’re just stuck together,” Jack says, sniffling. Rian laughs, a little wet, pulling Jack into a hug. 

“Guess we are.” 

“Think Ash will let you leave early? I wanna go home now and I don’t wanna wait for you.” 

“Yeah. I don’t have any more appointments and I can take the sketches home.” 

“Good. I think we deserve some pizza and white claws,” Jack says, solemnly. He’s smiling though and Rian’s hopelessly in love with him.

It isn’t till the drive home, which Rian barely managed to get to because Jack kept kissing him against his car, refusing to just let Rian get in the car and drive home so they could have dinner and cuddle, that Rian wonders what’s stopping him from making this permanent. They live together, they have a dog, Jack’s all but told Rian he sees them as forever and Rian feels the same way. What’s stopping Rian from just proposing? 

He takes the thought with him for the next week, searching for rings on his off time, trying to get other people’s opinions on what Jack might like until Rian finally decides on a simple black band for the ring. He ends up in the flower shop the next week, deciding that Jack deserves nice flowers for a proposal.

Luke is at the counter, fixing up a floral arrangement when Rian comes in. He looks up, surprised, blushing a little. Rian’s not dumb, he knows Luke has a crush on him. He also knows Luke has a crush on Jack and a major crush on Ashton, so he’s pretty sure Luke is just falling for anyone he thinks is cute until Ashton finally kisses him.

“Rian, hi! What brings you in? More flowers for the shop?”

“Flowers for Jack. I want to propose and I thought the sweetest man deserved some flowers to go with it.”

Luke looks at Rian in awe, lips parted in an “o.” 

“You’re going to propose?” Luke whispers. Rian furrows his brow, confused at Luke’s surprise, until he remembers that Luke’s trans too. Luke’s trans and he’s probably having the same reaction Jack did the first time he and Rian went to pride and Jack saw other people like them together, the idea that they weren’t alone. It softens Rian’s heart even more. He gets the older brother affection Jack has for Luke and Michael, the need to care for them. It’s hard not to when Luke’s staring at him, all wide blue eyes and open wonder.

“Yeah. Figured my boyfriend of seven years deserves to be my husband forever. Have some roses for it?” Rian says. Luke beams, hurrying around the counter, pulling out red roses to make a bouquet, bouncing with excitement. It’s infectious, making Rian even more excited to propose to Jack, seeing how excited Luke is, smiling the whole time. Ashton let him out of work early too, so he could be home to make dinner with Jack when he gets back from school. 

Rian’s anxious the whole drive home, flowers in the passenger seat, tapping his hands nervously on the steering wheel. What if he’s overthinking this whole thing? What if he’s fucking up the best thing in his life by proposing? What if all the nice words Jack said don’t mean marriage, they just mean staying together? What if Rian’s about to make the stupidest decision of his life? 

Jack’s car is already in the driveway when Rian gets back. He wasn’t expecting Jack to beat him home. It makes the pit in his stomach open wider, makes him even more anxious. He drops his keys five times before he finally manages to get them into the lock and open the door. 

“Ri?” Jack calls when Rian’s through the door. Camden comes sprinting through the house, barking excitedly at Rian until he picks him up, holding him in one arm while trying to keep the roses out of the way. 

“Yeah. You’re home early.” 

“Took the rest of my shit home. Why the fuck should I grade bad essays on The Odyssey at my desk when I can grade them on our couch while you yell at Jeopardy.” 

“I don’t yell at Jeopardy,” Rian says, offended.  

“Yes you do babe,” Jack says. Rian drops his bag by the front of the kitchen, placing the flowers on the counter and Cam on the floor. Jack’s back is turned to him, watching the chicken quesadillas he’s making in the pan intensely. Rian sneaks up behind him, wrapping his arms around Jack’s waist and running his hands over Jack’s hip bones, resting his chin on Jack’s shoulder. Jack sighs, leaning back into the touch. 

“Hi,” Rian says softly, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder.  

“Hi,” Jack says, turning his head to get a kiss from Rian. He glances over Rian’s shoulder, perking up when he notices the flowers on the counter. 

“You bought flowers?” 

“I did.” 

“For your other lover?” Jack teases, abandoning the pan to turn around in Rian’s arms, kiss him softly. Rian smiles, tugging Jack closer, kissing his lips, his neck. Jack laughs, squirming in his arms. 

“You can’t kiss me like that while I’m cooking. We’ll start a fire,” Jack says. Rian rolls his eyes, letting Jack play with his hair. 

“I missed you,” Rian says softly. Jack snorts. 

“It was only 8 hours babe,” he teases. 

“You didn’t text me today. I’m used to you texting me.” 

“The teens were being wild today. I don’t remember this much drama when I was their age,” Jack says. Rian rolls his eyes, pulls Jack in for a hug. 

Jack eventually wiggles from Rian’s hold, turning back to the stove. Camden’s flopped down next to them, sighing heavily. Rian swallows, hand in his pocket fingering the ring box. 

“Hey Jack?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you marry me?” Rian asks, sinking to one knee, pulling the box out. 

“Very funny Ri,” Jack says, turning to face him. Whatever else he was going to say dies as he takes in the sight of Rian on the floor. 

“Will you marry me?” 

“Holy shit,” Jack breathes out. 

“I’m not the English teacher, but I have a whole speech planned. You know, the moment I met you, I knew. I saw you standing in the corner of Alex’s living room, yelling at him to pick better music and I knew. I wanted to commit everything to memory because that was the memory I wanted to tell everyone at our wedding. I’ve known since the minute you demanded to see my tattoo in front of everyone and practically stripped me shirtless that I wanted to marry you. You’re it for me Jack. When I was 17 and scared shitless at the idea that I liked men, I didn’t know what to do. I never felt confident or comfortable enough to come out, to be myself, to picture myself with someone like you. And then I met you and it’s all I could picture. You made me comfortable with myself, happy with myself. Your endless love and support and just being reminds me everyday how lucky I am to know you, to have met you, to have you love me. You’ve never given a shit about my depression or the way I am or my anxiety. You just remind me of brighter days, of the idea that I’m allowed to have this, to have your love. I can’t picture my life without you, without loving you. I want forever. So, will you marry me?” Rian asks. 

“Yes, what the fuck yes! Of course I’ll fucking...come here!” Jack shouts, dragging Rian up to him. He pulls Rian in for a kiss, bumped noses and teeth because they’re too excited to kiss properly. Jack leans back, tears running down his cheeks, smiling widely. 

“I was worried for a minute,” Rian jokes, pulling the ring from the box and sliding it onto Jack’s finger. Jack holds his hand out admiring it. 

“Like I would say no. Maybe all the coffee has fired your brain cells,” Jack teases. He turns to Rian, kissing him again, softer this time. 

“You never know.”

“Hell would freeze over before I said no to marrying you. You’re the love of my life,” he says, quietly. Rian smiles, pressing another kiss to his lips. 

“Hey, is something burning?” Rian asks after a few moments, when he realizes he smells smoke. 

“Oh shit!” Jack yells, turning frantically to fix the burning quesadillas, fanning the smoke to stop it from setting off the smoke detector. Rian laughs, helpless in the face of Jack’s panic, Camden’s distressed barking. It’s perfect, it’s everything Rian’s ever wanted in life. It’s everything he’s wanted since he met Jack at Alex’s brunch. It’s the life he’s always wanted.

[takadasaiko]

Learn to be Patient (Superman & Lois one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Lois knows she should be patient for news, but the longer Clark takes to respond to the stolen ELT, the more worried she gets. Set directly after 1.09.

---

Learn to be Patient

One of the strangest subconscious reactions to learning that Clark was really Superman had been the worry that crept in. Logically, Lois had known that his powers didn't suddenly appear or disappear with the donning of a red cape, but it had taken a while to truly accept it when he sped off into danger. To get to the place where she could either watch or report on the live news covering whatever villain he was going toe-to-toe with without the knot of fear tightening in her gut. Slowly but surely, and with more than a few missteps in between, she made it to an understanding that she held onto with everything inside of her: No matter who he faced, the man she loved would always come back to her.

Over the years it had become easier. There were moments, but there was also a steadiness, almost a rhythm that they fell into. Once she knew who he was, any explanation as to where he was going or what he was doing had to wait until he returned. He'd always let her know once the danger was dealt with. She had learned to be patient in a way that had felt impossible in the earliest days of their relationship. That patience had become a part of her.

Most days.

Not tonight, though. Tonight she was still reeling from nearly losing one son to Kryptonite poisoning of her father's own making and the other to people they knew that had somehow been brainwashed - possessed? That was still a terrifying question hanging out on the ledge of her mind - by Edge. The same people that had stolen her ELT that had sent Clark barreling up into the sky to tackle the problem head-on. She had been left with the boys to work through everything that had happened, and focusing on that had helped in its own way for a while.

Jonathan and Jordan had gone upstairs and Lois had been left alone in her damaged kitchen with no idea if it had been Kyle or Emily that had pressed that little red button or someone else entirely. The longer Clark was gone, the more she was afraid it was someone else. Someone with a better handle on their powers that might have found a way to get the upper hand with him suffering the lingering effects of the Kryptonite gas. The longer he was gone, the more the fear built and she hated that old knot twisting in her stomach that she thought she'd learned to let go of years before.

She had to be patient. She knew she had to be patient, and part of that came with keeping herself busy. She picked up some of the debris left from the fight and took a shower. She looked in on the boys who appeared to have crashed while talking about the days' events in Jordan's room and then she finally crawled into bed herself. Clark's side of the bed was painfully empty. She curled up on her side and reached out, fingers wrapping around the fabric of his pillow. "Clark," his name escaped her on a breath and she squeezed her eyes shut.

A familiar whoosh startled her and she found him standing just inside their room, fear in his eyes and cape settling behind him from the movement. "Are you alright? The boys okay?" he asked, voice more frantic than usual.

Lois managed a small nod. "Just worried. After everything and you were gone so long…" The words felt absurd and selfish as they tumbled out, but she could see the relief wash over him too.

"I had to update your dad. I should have called."

"It's okay. Do you need to-?"

"Nope. All done. I'm home."

"What happened?"

"Give me just a sec?"

Lois gave another small bob of her head and he was gone as quickly as he'd come. She heard the shower pop on for a few seconds and found herself wondering if, fast as he was, he'd given the water enough time to catch up with him to do any good. He reappeared a handful of seconds after that at the foot of the bed in a pair of pajama bottoms and he was running a towel through his damp hair. She cringed at the bruises that had faded against his chest, but hadn't disappeared. In fact…. She rocked forward to her knees, getting a closer look at the damage that had been left behind. "Are those new?"

Clark glanced down to the marks and frowned. "I think so." He tossed the towel towards the hamper, landing it in one shot, and fell back onto the bed with her. He loosed a long, tired-sounding breath and those otherworldly blue-green eyes fixed on her. "You want to wait until morning?"

He didn't, that much was evident from his tone, but he was giving her an out if she wanted to just curl up and fall asleep knowing they were both home and safe. "I won't be able to sleep until I know," she admitted softly.

"Might not be able to sleep after either," her husband grumbled and pushed himself up so that he was sitting with her. He leaned forward, elbows braced against his bent knees, and she could see more bruising along his bare back. Her fingers ghosted over the temporary damage and she could feel his muscles tense.

"Does it hurt?"

"A little," he admitted and she leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades. Finally, he seemed to relax just a little with that and he drew in a steadying breath. "Morgan Edge was the one that used your ELT."

"Edge himself? What, he didn't want to hide behind his super-powered army?" Clark turned to face her again and she saw a strange look in his eyes, almost haunted, and she felt the knot start to tense up as she pieced the clues together. "He has powers too, doesn't he?"

"He said he got them the same time I did."

Lois blinked hard at that statement. "What does that mean?"

"That he's Kryptonian. We were…. Evenly matched. I think he was a little stronger."

"Because of the gas?"

"I hope that's all."

"What did he want?"

Clark's shoulders sagged a little more and his gaze turned back to the far wall in front of them. "Me," he managed. "He wanted me to join him."

"I'm guessing the new bruises were his reaction to you telling him where he could shove it?" Lois tried for a tease. A quiet huff of a chuckle escaped him and she inched forward to wrap her arms around his broad shoulders. He leaned into her and together they eased back against the mattress, Lois holding onto him as he nestled a little closer. She could feel the intentionally gentle way that his fingers latched onto her t-shirt and her hand moved to stroke his dark hair in a soothing motion.

"That's my people," he breathed without looking up at her. "A megalomaniac that's willing to sacrifice living human beings to be replaced with the consciousness of a race that's been all but extinct for forty years in this universe and the echoes willing to use humans as living hosts. What does that say?"

The knot in Lois' stomach moved to her chest and it felt like it might squeeze her heart until it stuttered to a stop. "They're not all like. You're not like," she managed, voice trembling and she willed her hands steady as they held him. A multitude of possibilities flickered through her mind's eye, the worst including Edge standing over Clark's broken body, unwilling to be denied yet another thing he'd demanded of this world, and their boys would be next if he ever caught wind that there were two half Kryptonians living in Smallville. "He can't have you," she whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "I don't care if he's more powerful or if he buys up the whole damn world, this family…. he can't have us."

Clark shifted in her arms to look up at her. "I love you."

His words cut through the horrifying image, but Lois couldn't drag in the breath to answer him. So she did the next best thing as she inched down, pressing her lips against his in a desperate attempt to show him. She could taste her own tears even as he kissed her back, rolling so that he was on his back, Lois leaned over him. She broke the kiss, not able to go without air nearly as long as him, but didn't dare move far away. Instead she rested her forehead against his. "You know you're nothing like him, right?"

"Edge? Hope not. The only person I've seen you hate more is Lex Luthor."

She snorted a laugh. "I mean the other you. The one that destroyed Irons' world. You're nothing like him."

Clark loosed a sigh and Lois finally opened her eyes to find him looking at her. "I've read everything Irons left us on him and I've only found one real difference in all the articles."

"What's that?"

"He didn't have you."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Neither am I."

That same steadiness that had helped her learn how to live this life with him filled the words. He would always come home to her. He would always come home to them.

Lois flashed a tired but real smile and pressed a quick kiss to his lips and rolled off of him to her side of the bed. "Glad we have that settled. I'm exhausted."

A soft chuckle echoed behind her and Lois felt her husband scoot closer until he was pressed against her back, one strong arm around her waist and she could feel his breath against the back of her neck. It had been a long, terrible day, but he was with her now, and when the sun rose, they'd face whatever Edge had to throw at them. They wouldn't let him take their family that they'd fought so hard for.

-----

End.

Notes: I stumbled across Superman & Lois after seeing a few very interesting things on social media. I don't think I've actively watched a Superman show since Lois and Clark way back in the day, so I wasn't prepared for the rabbit hole I was going to fall down. I'm absolutely obsessed with this take on a character that has been re-imagined so many times. The lens of family is what did it for me. The solid and healthy relationship Clark and Lois have (not perfect, but healthy), the complications with the twins, and all of the chaos that comes from it. It's beautifully crafted and brilliantly executed in a way I couldn't resist.

The problem is that I haven't watched any of the other DC shows in the Arrowverse very closely in years. I got through maybe 5 seasons of Arrow, a few episodes of Flash and Legends, and nothing of Supergirl or Batwoman when I started Superman & Lois. I did spot watch for episodes that Clark or Lois were in, but I think I only managed to confuse the crap out of myself with the colliding of universes that seemed to have taken place. I'm still unsure if this Clark and Lois even remember going to Argos in the other timeline or if that's faded like a dream at this point. Either way, I imagine that this Clark would feel heartbroken over the fact that the only members of his race left are acting as parasites to the planet that adopted him. The thought spiraled into my first little oneshot for the show. I do have another started to, so we'll see how that goes. Heaven knows I don't have time for fanfiction in a new fandom, but it's just too good to resist XD

[vintagemichelle91]

Angel Eyes (Roman Sionis x Reader) Part II

Author’s Note: Here it is! Part Two! I really hope you enjoy! Thank you so much to those who liked and reblogged! It meant everything! Feedback is very much appreciated!! I am hoping to add a part three! Again, much love and thank you! Roman Sionis has taken over me completely!!

_________________________________________________________________

There was no turning back at this point. Roman’s grip on you was tight and possessive. There was no way he was going to let you go and you didn’t want him to. Your grip tightened on his silk lapels as his lips crashed onto yours. Why did you even bother touching up your lipstick. 

The kiss was rushed, hungry, and tantalizing as you tried to savor every moment of it. Your heart kept pounding against your chest and you swore that if you didn’t take a breath it was going to burst. 

“Wait…wait give me a second.” You slightly pushed him off and the look of confusion on his gorgeous face almost terrified you. Placing a hand over your chest you flashed him a reassuring smile. “You left me breathless…”

He chuckled and grasped your hand. “That’s not even the half of what I am going to do to you baby.” Roman winked at you and led your straight into his bedroom. You regained yourself and followed him. The view of the city from his room was incredible. It was as if he lived in a castle in the sky.

“Oh this view is amazing!” You pulled away and walked over to the window to in the massive view that overlooked Gotham. 

Roman’s hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you toward him. He gently  swept your luscious hair to one side and exposed your lovely neck to him. He could not help but place small kisses on your exposed skin. You instantly felt a tingle travel rapidly to your core. 

“And you are exquisite,” he sucked at your skin, tasting your perfume of jasmine and some other exotic scent mingled within the fragrance. “I want you to be mine.”

Your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed in pure pleasure as he continued to ravish you. One of his hands slid its way up toward your breast and he gave it a delicious squeeze. The fabric of the little black dress was thin enough where he could feel your nipple poke through the fabric just slightly. 

“Mmmm Roman…yes,” you replied in a mere whisper. You were still a little weary that someone could hear you. After all, he did have some of his body guards posted all over the building.

Yet, you didn’t care all that much now. His touch was becoming too much and you ached for more.

“Say it again.”

It was not a request but a command. 

Your eyes fluttered open with pure determination. “I want to be yours.” 

Roma was satisfied with your answer and with one swift motion he had you standing before him in your black lace panties and black strap heels. Your could feel the cold air rush in from the window and sweep over your skin. However, soon you would be very warm. 

He watched as your hips swayed as you walked over to his bed. You weren’t sure if it was the liquor that made you act brazen or the fact that your desire for Roman Sionis made you throw all sense of modesty out the window. Carefully, you climbed into his bed and sat on your knees in the center of the bed. The black silk sheets beneath you felt amazing on your skin. 

“Well?” You glanced at him from beneath your long lashes. 

“Goddess…” he praised you as he watched you with hungry eyes as your hands roamed all over your body. “I don’t think I’m ever going to let you out of this room.” 

You let out a playful laugh as you flipped your hair. “You will keep me in this tower for your pleasure?”

“It definitely doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

Roman unbuttoned his suit jacket and shirt quickly as his eyes remained on you. He was like a lion stalking his prey and he was ready to pounce. 

“Come to me…” you cooed seductively and embraced him with open arms. Deep down you had wanted this to happen for a while, had you not been so blind and foolishly in love with Bruce Wayne. 

‘Wayne who?’ Your mind echoed. 

That guy was now far from your mind as the man that made you feel things…sexy, dirty, naughty, and forbidden things was already standing in front of you and in your arms. 

Roman laid you down carefully, it was as if he didn’t want to break you. His hand caressed your skin all over taking in your softness and your sighs. He had wanted your for so long, ever since he had first laid eyes on you at the gala. 

Now, he finally had you. 

It felt so good to feel his fingers slip through your panties and caress your core. His lips were on yours as your tongues mingled together as one. You could even taste the liquor on his tongue. 

“Roman…” his name fell from your lips so easily as he continued to pleasure you. 

Your legs tangled with his as you desperately tried to get closer to him. Your hands began to touch his skin and feel the heat radiating off him. 

“You like that don’t you angel eyes?” 

“Mhmm, don’t stop!” You squeezed your eyes shut as he slipped in another finger to your center and continued to vigorously slip in and out of you. The pleasure was almost becoming painful but oh how good it felt!

Roman sighed as he watched you get lost in his touch. He loved being in control of your body and having it bend to his will. “I’m just getting started, princess.” His voice was deep and pulling you further down the rabbit hole. 

“Yes, yes! Ooooh…” You could feel yourself falling over the deep already. 

“That’s it, cum for me,” Roman cooed as you moved your body against his hand. Your eyes remained closed but that was the last thing he wanted. “No, no, I want to see your eyes. Look at me!”

Your eyes opened as you came on his hand. Your voice strained as screamed his name over and over again. He played your body like an instrument and within minutes he had become a master with it. 

“Beautiful.” Roman said and kissed your pink lips roughly almost swallowing you entirely. His manhood was straining against the fabric of his pants and you could feel it against your thigh. 

“I want to feel you…” you said breathlessly. 

Roman smirked against your lips and removed your panties in one sweep. He tossed them over his head as he climbed on top of you and nestled between your legs. You skillful hands made their way between the both of you and unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down. 

He moaned instantly as he felt your wetness drip onto the tip of his manhood. You caught your breath as he immediately slipped right into you without much warning. 

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt him stretching your inner walls. He stretched you in many ways you had not thought possible. “Roman, baby…”

“Do I make you feel good?” Roman questioned as he began to move against you. 

You moved against him to match his pace instantly. “So so good!” It felt as if you were reaching Nirvana with him as he continued to move quickly. His hands were all over you and you wanted to touch him too. Your nails dug into back muscles and made their way down his ass urging him to keep up his amazing pace. 

“Mine…mine, mine, mine!” Roman screamed as he came within your walls and you held onto him tighter as you felt that familiar tightening in your stomach.  

Just as he kissed that sweet spot on your neck and kept pounding you into the silky sheets you came just as hard and nodded in complete agreement. 

“Yours…” 

_______________________________________________________________________

Tagging: @grandimagines, @stardancerluv @spn-obession @krismiss2000​ @starwarsprequelfangirl 

[aurelacs]

Ten of Wands

An Ezra/F!OC Red Dead Redemption AU

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

CONTENT: mentions of spousal abuse, ezra is doing his best

A/N: Howdy! This one’s going to be a little short because I sort of dug myself into a hole, but next chapter will be longer! I said this would be a slow burn :). And I have Plans :)).

This is set in the Red Dead Redemption universe, however there’s no spoilers for either game, and you don’t need to have prior knowledge of the games to understand the fic. I’m just using RDR for the setting and the time period (1899). Hope you enjoy!

chapter list | masterlist | read on AO3

II. The Tower

Ezra was intolerable. 

His proclivity for talking mindlessly grated against Annie’s ears, who had grown so used to her mostly wordless self and husband. Even before she married, she was never one to speak much. Their first afternoon and night together was spent listening to him speak cryptically about the so-called “dealings” he had in the towns on the way to Armadillo. He spoke in code about certain men he needed to speak with, small jobs, some of which he called “ harmless errands,” as if that had any meaning to her. She couldn’t figure out when he took the chance to breathe. What all made it worse was Ezra’s incessant need to pry. Even though she did her best to pay attention, he still broke through. Her name, her life, what she was doing in Valentine, did she live in Valentine, how it was strange to meet a woman who was unmarried. Every question stung, dug a little deeper, until it felt like a hole torn in her sternum. For the time being, her one worded answers sufficed, but she could tell he was getting antsy. 

The one dealing he was upfront with was an apparent debt collection he had in Blackwater. It felt nearly unacceptable to Annie. Blackwater wasn’t too far off course, but it was enough that it made her worry about bounty hunters catching either of their scents. Ezra assured her they wouldn’t be there long, but for Annie it felt as empty as every other word he had said since they reached the camp. 

Annie hoped to find respite from Ezra as they settled in for the night, only to be greeted by the fact that he even spoke in his sleep. Nowhere near the winded soliloquies like when he was awake, but enough that it kept her awake well into the evening. There would be periods of silence long enough where she believed herself to be safe, and he would start up again. His words were never coherent; mindless babbles that effortlessly escaped through his pursed lips and furrowed brow. The light from the fire reflected against the curious patch of blonde hair that sat above his right temple. It wasn’t until what felt like hours after Ezra had first settled in for the night that Annie’s eyes grew too heavy to keep open, and she fell asleep. 

Ezra wasn’t at camp when Annie woke up the next morning. She half expected all of his belongings to have disappeared with him, but when she rose to check, she saw his bedroll still laid out under his tent. She splashed some cool water from the river on her face to wake her up further before reigniting the fire that went out during the night. 

“It is always nice to be in the company of another early-riser like myself.” Ezra’s voice was accompanied by the sound of gentle hoof steps as he led his horse closer to the camp. Two rabbit carcasses hung from the back of his saddle. His plan for the day, he said while unhooking the rabbits and beginning to cook them over the fire, was to head to Strawberry to take care of his first “errand.” The town was a couple hours west in the right direction. Annie didn’t feel the need to state her objections just yet. Ezra, for the time being, was the rope that could pull her out of the mire. With as deep as she found herself, she had little other choice. He pulled Annie out of her thoughts and urged her to eat, eager to make their way. He spoke fondly of Strawberry as he ate, like heaven and earth moved to accommodate the river town. He told her she wouldn’t believe how clean it was compared to Valentine. 

“When the sun reaches its peak, it reflects upon the river like a luminous sapphire. It makes the entire town shine a blue the likes of which you have never seen, I assure you.” Ezra refused to stop speaking about it even as they packed up and began their journey. Annie quickly tuned him out. This was the furthest west she had ever been, even if the scenery had barely changed. The greenery felt more lush, the dirt of the road seemed to sink under the horse’s hooves differently. She wanted to take everything in as the threat of never seeing it again loomed over her. The thought gripped at her chest, ate at her to the point where she wanted to scream as though it was the only way to release the building energy. 

It was hard to balance herself on the back of Ezra’s horse without touching him in some way. It felt inappropriate to grip her arms around his waist as the Belgian Draft wobbled along the worn path, but not holding on at all threatened to see her fall off entirely.  Her cheeks warmed unpleasantly at the thought of putting her hands on another man while she was married, even if it was solely for practical reasons. Even if she was no longer married. Annie let out a beleaguered sigh and wrapped her arms around Ezra, minding to keep as much of her body away from his. If he noticed her awkward position, or that she was holding on in the first place, he didn’t remark on it. 

“So, little bird, why do you need to get to Armadillo?”

Annie hesitantly remained silent. The question sent a small pang of fear down her spine, further adding to the tightness in her chest. Her bounty poster still sat folded and tucked into the satchel that hung across her body. Had he looked while she slept? She had given him so little the day prior that perhaps he felt the need to check for himself, and asking her now was just a test of how honest she would be for the rest of their time together. 

“I heard there was a ranch nearby there that was hiring.” 

Ezra turned his head to look at her and smiled affirmatively. “I do not know where the MacFarlanes find enough money to maintain their operation but there they are. The ranch is like a town within itself. I’m sure they’ll have something for you.” He paused for a moment. “If not, there are always plenty of general stores to rob.” Annie could feel his back shake as he chuckled at his own joke. She had the urge to smack him, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to knock the derby hat off his head and into the mud below them. 

“As I mentioned earlier, we are stopping in Strawberry because of a small enterprise I have that involves the post officers of this fine country. After I speak with him, we can be on our way to Blackwater.” 

“I don’t see why we need to stop in Blackwater. It’s out of the way and I don’t want to give the b-... posse from Valentine more time to find us.” 

“We have already crossed into West Elizabeth, the meager posse of a shithole of a town is not going to bother crossing state lines to look for a man that robbed a shopkeep of fourteen dollars. Unless it’s not just the posse about which we have reason to be concerned,” he laughed. Annie stayed silent.

Ezra pulled the reins on his horse to signal it to stop. Dread flooded Annie’s body once more. It wasn’t the volume at which Ezra held his voice, but his tone. It paralyzed her to the point where he had to pry Annie’s arms off of his waist to hop off and look up at her as she sat, frozen. The tone meant hurt. It meant anguish and run and cower. But nothing of that nature followed the tone as he paced silently back and forth a couple steps away, his hands resting on his waist. 

“Little bird, I have been more than forthcoming with my information and backstory and I do not find it to be fair that you have since chosen to give me absolutely nothing.” 

“Stop calling me little bird.” It was all she could muster. 

Ezra’s voice softened as he approached. His question was hushed, like he didn’t want his horse to hear, like speaking it any louder would cause the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge emerge out of her so harshly that she would break. “Do we need to be concerned about more than a posse?” 

“No.” Annie’s voice shook as the word fell from her throat. She didn’t know why he insisted on pressing the matter when they both made it clear that they didn’t want to accept whatever truth Annie was hiding, though hers was far deeper than she knew Ezra could anticipate. 

“I am not getting back on that horse until you tell me what the hell is going on.” 

Annie was on the verge of tears as she reached into her satchel to pull out her bounty poster, still undisturbed. She handed it to Ezra and refused to make eye contact as he scanned over it. She focused above his eyes: his eyebrows, his forehead, the blonde patch that continued to poke out beneath the brim of his hat. His laughter rang through her ears.

“Do you really expect me to believe that you are a murderer?”   

Annie looked at him sheepishly. If only she were able to project the image of her husband into Ezra’s mind. Blood pooling, chest open, dozens of pellets boring small holes into the wall and stairs. Would he be able to feel her fear? Tears did pour as the horrid sight refused to leave her mind despite how hard she pushed it. She jumped when Ezra reached out to gingerly touch her leg in comfort. 

“Would you like to get down?”

“No. Can we please just keep going?” 

He nodded his head silently and hopped back on. Ezra was quiet the rest of the ride, and Annie didn’t want to admit how much, in that moment, she needed his speech. 

*

Strawberry didn’t quite live up to Ezra’s proclamations, but Annie couldn’t deny that it was pretty. And it certainly was nicer than Valentine. The town was built around the river, framed with elevated water flumes that ran from the mine above it. Each building was made from the same dark wood, giving it a sense of uniformity and quaintness that Valentine lacked with its painted siding. The roads were still dirt but miraculously weren’t muddy. Some spots even had flowers growing along the banks. Ezra hitched his horse on a post outside of a depot. 

“I need to stop in here for a minute. If you’d like, up this road is the hotel. You do not seem up for much more traveling today.”

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, Ezra was right. It was hard to allow the thought that he could possibly read her, even as well as her husband. Annie had overheard people in Valentine speak about the hotel. The mayor apparently wanted Strawberry to become a tourist destination for visitors of West Elizabeth and spared no expense for the hotel and town surrounding. As Ezra disappeared into the depot, Annie made her way up the incline. Her feet itched to make their way to the sheriff’s office to see if her poster was hung here as well, but resisted the urge. The act begged attention, and it’s possible this sheriff kept his notice board inside the office, which beckoned its own set of problems. 

The best word Annie could muster for Strawberry’s hotel was ‘cozy.’ It was dimly lit with oil lanterns and from the light outside that filtered in through the windows. A gentleman stood by the front desk in a full suit, hands clasped behind his back. He greeted her with a “madame” as she walked in. The action nearly floored her. The man gestured over to a small board that listed the services the hotel offered and the prices: bed and bath, both a dollar each. Annie paused. It seemed foolish, overindulgent, to spend money on a bath, but her bones ached something unknown deep into the marrow that acted as a lure to drag Annie’s hand into her satchel, and dig out two dollars. 

The bath room was upstairs on the right side of a landing, directly next to one of the two bedrooms the hotel housed. Steam had already begun to gather on the windows from the copper tub situated directly in the middle of the room. It also held a small cabinet with fresh towels, and a small table littered with tinctures and labeled vials. Annie stared at them all, taken aback by the sheer amount of oils they had, some of which she had never heard of. She poured in the one that simply read ‘rose’ and slunk into the scalding water. 

Annie could have fallen asleep right there, enshrouded in the warm water and cradled by the heat of the tub. She dunked herself under and stayed there, letting it wrap around her over and over until she needed a breath. It was tempting. The warmth of the bath, the extended moments of privacy, the lock on the door, all called to her an enchanting song that coaxed her hand from down her sternum, to her belly, to the bundle of nerves at her core, when someone knocked.

“How about some company, honey,” a sugar sweet voice rang out from behind the door. A woman paid by the hotel to accompany the weary travelers who stumbled in. It wasn’t for her. 

Even with the embarrassment creeping up her chest, Annie still managed to stay in the bath until long after the water went cold. It had been months since a proper bath, and she didn’t want to leave. When she left the bathroom, she checked three times to make sure no one was on the landing or coming up the stairs before making her way into her room in her towel. The bed took up most of the small room and Annie shed her towel and sank far into the covers with no regard for sleeping clothes or anyone walking in.  

Her dreams that night were of her, naked, surrounded by darkness, a nameless figure with a blonde patch of hair buried between her legs.  

Tag List: @immundusspiritu​, @borderlinedindjarin​, @aforces​

[quatorz]

put your music player on shuffle and list the first ten songs. 

I was tagged by @polniaczek  Thanks!

1. Where Are You Now - Mumford and Sons (I have to admit I have never listened to this song)

2. How Soon Is Now? - The Smiths

3. Starship - ALFEE.  Great great song from the 80s anime Lensman.  I looked for the ALFEE songs from Lensman for forever before I found them.  

4. Look Down - Les Miserables.  Yes I have the entire Les Miz musical on my phone. 

5. Stockholm Syndrome - Muse.  Loved this album!  Coincidentally, just saw a post on here yesterday about how Stockholm Syndrome is complete b.s.  Very interesting!

6. Cygnus X1 - Book II: Hemispheres - Rush.  Hemispheres is an album I never listen to much because my favorite songs from it I heard first on the Exit...Stage Left live album.  So in my brain the live ones are the ‘official’ versions, you know?

7. Bad Sneakers - Steely Dan.

(Here there was like an hour long rabbit hole I fell down watching live versions of the Lensman song-and other songs ALFEE did.  I had no idea they did a cover of a Hoku to no Ken opening.  I think I was in tears).

8. UFO - Coldplay (This was off of Mylo Xyloto.  I never really liked the album and I couldn’t tell you what this song sounds like.  I probably only heard it once or twice)

9. Shake Me Down - Cage the Elephant.  They are one of those bands where I absolutely love like every third song and am ambivalent to all the others.  In pulling this video from Youtube to link here, I was STUNNED to see that it was nine years old???   How the f@#k is this song nine years old?

10. Future Times/Rejoice - Yes.  I actually really like this album.  I bought it on vinyl from eBay and it was still sealed(!) and had the Amoeba Records price tag on it from who knows how long ago?  I thought that was pretty cool.

I’m tagging: @acebender @poetzproblem @redlance @80sanime @threeofeight @dr-archeville @thetrekkiehasthephonebox @kegisaroused

I’m horrible at these so I hope no one feels left out!  I love everyone!

[ladyjonquilinthenorth]

The Lady of the Rivers

If you’ve spent more than three days in the Jonsa fandom (or GoT fandom at large), you’ve probably picked up by now that GRRM has based his tale heavily on myth (I AM SHOOKETH, @ladyandtheghost​), much on history, and specifically on the events surrounding the Wars of the Roses, a series of wars in 15th century England fought between two major houses, Lancaster and York, as they wrestled for control of the crown.

Much and more has been written on the subject, all of it just a quick Google away, so I don’t feel the need to elaborate any further for the moment. However, there is one aspect of this comparison that I would like to focus on, and how it specifically relates to Jonsa, so stick around, because things could get interesting!

Around the time that I fell down the ASOIAF/GoT rabbit hole, I chanced upon a great show called The White Queen which was airing on STARZ.

(please don’t ask why the poster is all in black. That’s something I’d like to know as well.)

The one-season, ten-episode show is based on a book of the same name by Philippa Gregory. She, in turn, based her writings on the historical events surrounding Elizabeth Woodville, the woman who would eventually go on to marry Edward IV of York, thereby becoming Queen of England, and matriarch of a line of rulers that would eventually end with Elizabeth I.

Many have declaimed on the inaccuracy and incorrect portrayal of the books and show mentioned above, and for the most part, I tend to agree. But for the purposes of this meta, the information I intend to use, while referred to in Gregory’s work, has been confirmed by Wikipedia (I know!) and other sources of equivalent credence.

Besides the titular White Queen, there was another important character present in the book/show and history, namely, Jacquetta of Luxembourg, Countess Rivers, wife first to John of Lancaster, 1st Duke of Bedford (d. 1435), then to Sir Richard Woodville, 1st Earl Rivers, and mother to Elizabeth (and 13 other children, who, for the purposes of this meta shall remain nameless).

During her short marriage to John of Lancaster, brother to Henry V, she was firmly allied with House Lancaster. However, following the Lancastrian defeat at the Battle of Towton, she and her second husband, Richard Woodville, sided with the House of York.

Now, all this would be very interesting if we were looking for more information on the Wars of the Roses, which I don’t know about you, but I’m writing a Jonsa-esque meta here, so let’s move on.

Jacquetta of Luxembourg wasn’t just any old lady. She was the the eldest daughter of Peter I of Luxembourg, Count of Saint-Pol, Conversano and Brienne, and his wife Margaret of Baux. Incidentally, her uncle, John II of Luxmebourg was head of the military campaign that captured Joan of Arc.

But here’s the deal: Don’t ask where, or why, or how it’s even possible, but the Luxembourgs claimed descent from from a legendary water deity known as Melusine, or Melusina.

“The fairy Melusina, also, who married Guy de Lusignan, Count of Poitou, under condition that he should never attempt to intrude upon her privacy, was of this latter class. She bore the count many children, and erected for him a magnificent castle by her magical art. Their harmony was uninterrupted until the prying husband broke the conditions of their union, by concealing himself to behold his wife make use of her enchanted bath. Hardly had Melusina discovered the indiscreet intruder, than, transforming herself into a dragon, she departed with a loud yell of lamentation, and was never again visible to mortal eyes; although, even in the days of Brantome, she was supposed to be the protectress of her descendants, and was heard wailing as she sailed upon the blast round the turrets of the castle of Lusignan the night before it was demolished.”

-The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border

Now, WHY does this look so familiar???

Oh.....right.....

Anyway, this Jacquetta-Melusine connection is quite heavily expanded upon in the book and show, portraying various spells and schemes woven by the Woodville women for their own ends, as well as that of the kingdom. In fact, during Edward IV’s captivity, Jacquetta was actually accused and later exonerated for witchcraft on the basis of  ‘an image of lead made like a man of arms of the length of a man’s finger broken in the middle and made fast with a wire, saying that it was made by [Jacquetta] to use with witchcraft and sorcery’. It’s worth to note that Jacquetta, and later Elizabeth (a suspected sorceress herself) made no mention of Melusine. Their magic was of an entirely different sort. However, the connection is still present. 

So, if by now, all the bells are ringing in your head and you know where this is going, congratulations! If not, let me break it down. 

The Woodville-Yorks claim descent from Melusine, the water goddess. Sir Richard Woodville holds the title, 1st Earl Rivers. Who is a descendant of that house and granddaughter to the above-mentioned Jacquetta of Luxembourg? Elizabeth of York, wife of Henry VII. 

Which family represents the water/river connection in our story? DING DING DING! 

“Let the kings of winter have their cold crypt under the earth. The Tullys drew their strength from the river, and it was to the river they returned when their lives had run their course”

- A Storm of Swords, Catelyn IV

Who is the scheming, politically savvy matriarch descended from that house? Catelyn Tully-Stark. And who is the daughter of said house whom we constantly parallel to Elizabeth of York? Sansa Stark, (all fingers and toes crossed) future wife to Jon (Snow, Stark, Targaryen, take your pick), rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. 

credit to @sardoniyx for this work of art!

Where is the Tully connection to magic, you ask? Do not fear, for there is one, and here it is:

Thank you to @marydri​ for pointing this one out to me and explaining it :)

“He found himself remembering tales he had first heard as a child at Casterly Rock, of mad Lady Lothston who bathed in tubs of blood and presided over feasts of human flesh within these very walls.”

A Feast for Crows, Jaime III

Who is this mad Lady Lothston and what does she have to do with the Tullys of Riverrun?

Danelle Lothston, also known as Mad Danelle, was Lady of Harrenhal and head of House Lothston. She was also a witch. She is described as having “long red hair and wore tight-fitting black armor.A story told to misbehaving children said that on moonless nights bats would fly from Harrenhal and take the bad children back to Mad Danelle.”

We know from Catelyn that a castle usually passes to descendants or close relatives of the previous lords.

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest . . . it might have been a Templeton, but . . ."

A Storm of Swords, Catelyn V

The lords of Harrenhal after the Lothstons were the Whents, a descendant of whom was Minisa Whent, mother to Catelyn and Lysa Tully. Since the Whents inherited Harrenhal, it’s fair to assume that there was much intermarriage between them and House Lothston for such an exchange to happen. So, while it nowhere clearly states whether Danelle married or ever had children, it is possible that her blood mingled with that of the Whents, and thereby the Tullys (and the Starks), contributing a slight trace of magic into the bloodline.

Two mutually unrelated things worthy of note:

It’s a possibility that Danelle Lothston was a descendant of the Blood of the Dragon. Aegon IV the Unworthy had many mistresses, the first of whom was Lady Falena Stokeworth. When she and Aegon were discovered abed together by his brother, Viserys, Falena was sent away and married off to Lucas Lothston. Aegon was said to have visited them in Harrenhal for a number of years thereafter. Many years later, Lady Falena returned to court, this time with her fourteen year-old daughter, Jeyne Lothston. There were many rumors that Jeyne was not the daughter of Lucas, but, in fact, the bastard of Aegon IV Targaryen. Despite these, Aegon proceeded to have his way with mother and daughter, both (these Targaryens!). Danelle must have been a great-granddaughter of Jeyne, thereby inheriting the Blood of the Dragon (which didn’t help her case, let me tell you).

The shield Brienne carries, given to her by Jaime, depicts the black bat divided on a field of silver and gold of House Lothston. So, how epic is it that this is the shield used to protect the possible descendants of that house, Catelyn and Sansa?

TL;DR: Elizabeth of York is a possible descendant of Melusina, a water-goddess of legend. Sansa Stark is a descendant of the Tullys, a house iconically linked with water. Both were/will be married off to heirs to the kingdom in an attempt to ally their disgraced houses with the crown. Jonsa is endgame!

So, I hope you all enjoyed this meta. I feel like one has to write Jonsa meta every so often to earn one’s keep in this fandom, so consider this my rent for the month. 

Once again, thank you to @marydri​ for helping me to flesh this out. Thank you, also, to @kitten1618x​ whose meta (linked above. Read the comments there, ALL THE COMMENTS) contains anything and everything you’d ever want to know about the Jonsa/WotR connection, and to @sweetsummersansa​ as well, for this post, helpful for anyone who’d like to read up on the EoY/Sansa parallels. 

Thanks for reading, and lemme know what you think!

[lizardat88mph]

DEC 13TH: Frozen tundra & coffee problems

It has been a long ass semester. To say the least. 

I used to think I was pretty good at handling university, and especially a semester. I was pretty good at time management. Pretty good at getting shit done. Pretty good at making temporary uni friends, finishing group projects, studying for the big test, flashing out papers...but Masters is an entirely new monster and although it is my second year into it, it doesn’t seem to be getting any easier, simpler or more manageable. 

Anyways, I’m not here to argue about school. I’ve actually had enough talking about school. It seems when your in it its all you ever talk about. It’s your entire identity and I’m kind of tired of it being that way. I want to emerge out of the ‘student’, like some kind of caterpillar turning to a butterfly. Cheesy.

I feel so burnt out though, in a good and a bad way. Bad, obviously because I feel like all the energy has been sucked from me completely. I mean, it’s been a hard semester with a lot of negative energy surrounding the air. I think I am not used to that. I’m used to working like a crazy person to get stuff done, which I am actually more alright with. It was the energy surrounding this semester which killed me. 

But I am here now, alive, fine. I have definitely learned a lot this semester. A lot about life, dealing with people, surviving, so I am grateful for sure.

I’m getting to this very reflective place where I am starting look back on the year and think what I could have done differently, how I will change it and how I will evolve to have a better 2020. I have already started the ball rolling with getting rid of negative energy from my life, in ways that I can, so that is a start. Next, I really want to find the joy in things again. I’ve really lost that this semester--joy, fun, play. Childish pursuits. I miss it. I went to the movie theatre the other day to watch Frozen II and I just fell in love (not with the movie) but the experience, the experience of going to a kid’s film, being surrounded by kids, watching trailers for other animations. I was so flipping excited. 

I was thinking of writing a narrative for the rest of December break that is literally nothing but fun and play. 

I was even thinking of being weird and writing a parody of Frozen, but set in the tropics. Or even just a rewrite. Who knows! But it should be fun. Also, I want to get back into falling in love with film, tv, books, manga, etc., again. I recently re-watched Dirty Dancing and completely fell in love. I started watching a few new shows like Pennyworth and Gold Digger and plan to watch the Chronicles of Narnia on Saturday. I also just finished reading Bad Call, which was one of the best books I have ever read, and am now reading The Wolves of Winter done by an author I got to meet, and it’s incredible. 

I want to read and watch all over the map this winter--just really explore. 

I do want to produce a bit of a schedule to get myself into a ‘work/play’ routine, but not too heavy because it is break and I do need to relax and regain some of that energy back. 

I have really enjoyed staying home lately with a good cup of coffee, in front of the Christmas tree with my dog, watching documentaries in the background. It has been really refreshing and relaxing, and allows me to do whatever I need to do (which involves a lot of Christmas shopping). 

Some goals I have for this Christmas break (although I try to keep it tame, it is break after all). 

1. Read and watch all over the map, like I said before.

2. Enjoy some home time

3. Detox EVERYTHING, literally

4. Friends, fun things, events, why not 

5. Find joy in creating and writing

6. Start to alter habits, use tracker!

7. Go down rabbit holes of research, learning and craft building

8. Bust out some novel

9. Christmas surprises!

10. Plan for a New Year

That’s about it. Hopefully within the next week I will get acting on some of this stuff. Hopefully I will do a lot of reading and watching and really enjoy it. Hopefully I will create more adventures with friends, now that I can put school aside. Hopefully I can write a ton, and not really care about the outcome. Hopefully I can spend time with people, and alone. Hopefully I can take care of some much needed things, detox completely so that for the New Year I am ready to begin again. 

All for now, 

Over, 

~Lizard

[zacklover24]

Prompto in Wonderland Chapter II

Tagging: @femmescientia, @itshaejinju, @themissimmortal, @blindbae, @stunninglyignis, @neko-otaku13, @sweetchocobae, @wolfissac, @daemonchocobo, @eternallydaydreaming2015, @rubyphilomela, @lady-asuka, @misssarahdoll

Prompto was confused, scared and in shock. He had just fallen down a rabbit hole, saw a woman almost get killed or maybe she was dead and now this man. A man who was devilsly handsome with cat ears and cat eyes giving him a sly smile. A man who just appeared out of nowhere mind you.

“Who exactly are you?” Prompto asks trying to comfy on the log.

“As I said I am Ignis the Cheshire Cat, now who might you be?” Ignis inquires.

“I’m Prompto. Where the hell am I?” He asks Ignis, Ignis face fell. Was this boy not from here.

“You’re in Wonderland, it’s in a sad state as of late. All thanks to the Red King and his army.” Ignis hisses.

“I’ve never heard of Wonderland. Look dude who was that back there? Is she dead?” Prompto asks feeling nervous and scared at the same time.

“Pray tell how did you come to Wonderland?”

“I followed a blue fox with a horn in the middle of its head.” Ignis mad a sour expression and growled.

“Did this fox have a red and white waist coat and a pocket watch?”

Prompto shrugged, “I guess, dude.” Ignis let out another growl.

“I must apologies for Carbuncle, it seems that he led you down the rabbit hole with little to no warning it seems. It would seem that I must give you a crash crush of my home.”

“Carbuncle? Aww that is such a cute name.”

“Indeed,” Ignis says with a dry tone and a roll of his eyes, “Wonderland was once a place of peace, ruled by the White King, those times were of great joy. But then one day the Red King attacked plunging our lands into war.”

“And the woman and the guy?”

“Lady Lunafreya and her brother Lord Ravus. Lady Lunafreya is what we call an oracle, able to see the past, present and future. She foresaw a hero in blue, an outsider, who came and kills the Red King and his behemoth ending his rain of terror.” He explains a smile gracing his lips, “And as for Lord Ravus he has allied himself with the Red King, he is more than likely brining her to the Red King castle as we speak. But…”

“But what?”

“Would you like to go to a tea party?” As he started to disappear, “Just follow this path you’ll be there.” And with that he was gone.

“Hey wait!” Prompto yells at the now empty spot, “Well great just great.” He mutters kicking the ground, “Just follow this path he said.” With no other choice Prompto started down the path grumbling.

At the end of the path, Prompto was meat with a fork in the road in the road. Ignis didn’t tell him to go right or left. He was going to go left, but stopped he heard music form the right path. It sounds up and happy.

“Maybe this way to the tea party?” Prompto softly whispers going down the path. Now if Prompto looked behind him, and up o=in the tree he would have seen Ignis. Ignis was lounging in the highest branch with a smirk on his face. The march hear was in for a treat. A delicious treat. Ignis let out a laugh and vanished from sigh.

Down the path, Prompto came to the end there was white gate that connected to a white fence with peeling paint, in front of the gate was a pair of mailboxes one said, ‘Mad Hatter’ the other said ‘March Hare’. The music was louder and was very peppy sounding, he could make out violins, guitars, and one last instrument he couldn’t make out.

“Hello?” Prompto calls out before opening the gate, on the other side of the gate was a table. The table was long with a white table cloth with many chairs on either side. On the table cloth was a sight. There were bakes goods of all kinds and large tea pots, tea cups, sugar bowls, milk saucers and so much more. A tea party indeed.

“What do we have?” A bored voice asks,

“We have a lost little lamb.” A second voice says with amusement in his voice as he spoke. Prompto let out eep, and walked around to see to two men.

One had raven black hair that was a mess from sleep, he had his elbows on the table and his chain rest on the back of his hands. His cold blue eyes went from Prompto to the table in a flash. The man wore a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows a gray vest and blue jeans.

The other man was a whole other ball park. He was sitting in plush arm chair, his elbows resting on both arm rest with a cup of tea poised at his mouth. This man had brown hair, with a dark green top with a clock in the middle on top of his head. The man’s amber eyes were boring their way into Prompto soul. The man also wore a gray vest but with no shirt. He was very well-defined reminding Prompto of a body builder, and from what Prompto could tell he had on pair of black leather pants.

“Who are you?” Prompto asks, the raven hair man let out a bark of laughter.

“Who are you?” He asks reaching for a tart.

“I’m Prompto I was told about a tea party.” The man in the arm chair let out his out-bark laughter, and took a sip form his tea.

“Well Prompto,” His name seemed to roll of his tongue, “You can call me Gladio I’m the mad hatter and this ball of sunshine is Noctis the march hare. Please do have a seat.” He purrs.

“Umm thanks, I’m not interrupting your party, am I?” He asks looking for a cup.

“No, we were just wondering why the raven is like a writing desk.” Noctis asks.

“Dude, that makes no sense.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him.” Gladio smiles, throwing his arms to side watching the tea spill to the ground with a giggle, “Well shit.”

“More tea?” A familiar voice asks as a tea pot started to float.

“IGGY!” Gladio greets pulling the inviable man onto his lap, “Where have you been sulking?” Ignis appeared and rolled his eyes and dropping the pot to the ground with clunk.

“I don’t sulk, I was merely keeping an eye on lady Lunafreya.” Noctis head snapped towards Ignis and Gladio.

“Luna? Where is she?”

“Sadly, she was captured by Lord Ravus, and her predation has come true?”

“Yea, which one?” Ignis smirked as Gladio started to nuzzle the side of his neck.

“The one where a hero in blue will come and kill the Red King, dear Prompto there is the hero in blue.” Gladio let out a snort, and looked Prompto over.

“This kid? I bet you he can’t even lift a sword let alone killing the Red King and his dear pet.” Gladio snarls as one his one hands went to Ignis hair to pet him the other went down south

“If Luna is still alive we need to go and save her. Who the fuck knows what that bastard is doing her.”  

“Best guess? Nothing. He won’t risk hurting the only oracle Wonderland has seen in last twenty years.” Ignis tells him swatting Gladio hand away from his crotch. “What we need to do is bring him to the White King.” Noctis and Gladio went stiff as a board.

“There is no way in hell were going back there!” Noctis yells slamming his hands down on the table, the cups shock.

“We left for a reason.” Gladio mutters playing with Ignis hair and ears. Ignis let out a tired sigh,

“I know but if we want this war to end, we need to.” Ignis went stiff his ears lying flat against his head.

“What’s wrong Iggy?” Gladio asks watching the other start to disappear.

“Voretooth it would seem that Lord Ravus has found us, Noct protect Prompto at all costs.” Noctis rolled his eyes, those he went still when he heard the barking and howling.

“Iggy same old meet up?” Gladio asks standing and summoning a large sword.

“I’ll meet you three at the old looking glass.” And then he was gone.

“Noct get Prompto out here and head towards to the old looking glass.” Gladio orders letting the sword rest on his shoulders.

“What why?”

“Because me and Iggy say so. I’ll fight them off!” He orders rushing to the front. Prompto bite his lip, watching Noctis let out a growl and summon his own sword. And then he did something that Prompto had never seen before. With his free hand, he cast a ball of fire at the other end of the table. Soon everything at the end was ablaze.

“That should buy us some time if any get past Gladio. Let’s go.” As he grabbed Prompto hand,

 “What are those things.” As he tried to free his hand. Noctis let out a growl as he pulled the blonde up from his seat.

“I don’t have time to explain we need to get out here.” As he started to run, Prompto stumbled and could hear the growling along with cries of pain.

“Shouldn’t you go and help him?” As they ran leaving the tea party and Gladio alone. Noctis let out a snort, and ran towards the woods.

“Gladio? He can handle himself.” Prompto once again bite his lip, as he Noctis ran through the woods the sounds of the fighting dying down as they ran deeper into the dark woods. Prompto was scared, scared for himself, for Gladio and Ignis. Who knew where Noctis was leading him.

 End of line

[wcrldofmyown-blog]

Take Me To Wonderland: an alice liddell mix

“We each devise our means of escape from the intolerable.” ― William Styron, A Tidewater Morning

SIDE A: DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

i. kids - mgmt // ii. young and menace - fall out boy // iii. lucy in the sky with diamonds - the beatles // iv. feel good inc. - gorillaz // v. realiti - grimes // vi. i am the walrus - the beatles  // vii. air balloon - lily allen  // viii. time to pretend - mgmt  // ix. alone - marshmello // x. on melancholy hill - gorillaz // xi. that’s not my name - the ting tings // xii. break the rules - charli xcx  // xiii. mad hatter - melanie martinez  

SIDE B: OFF WITH HER HEAD!

ribs - lorde

This dream isn't feeling sweet // We're reeling through the midnight streets // And I've never felt more alone // It feels so scary, getting old

Alice is terrified of growing up. She is in her twenties and still acts like she is a sixteen year old girl. She fears responsibility and having to take care of herself. She hates being alone and the thought of getting old alone scares her more than anything. She clings to Wonderland so she can see that child-like world she fell in love with when she was younger and she isn’t ready to give it up. This song captures her fear and insecurities about growing up and growing up alone especially.

cry baby - melanie martinez

Your heart's too big for your body // It's why you won't fit inside // They're pouring out // Where everyone can see

Alice is a very passionate child. When she was younger, she was ten times more expressive. She couldn’t help herself! But her family wasn’t too happy with that. For years they tried conditioned her to cry less, but no matter what they did, Alice couldn’t help herself. She cared too deeply, was moved too easily, and so her tears would fall. Her sister dubbed her a cry baby and this song reminds her that she isn’t the only one who feels like this. Ironically enough, she doesn’t openly cry as much as she used to. But she found her own methods to dry her eyes.

happy little pill - troye sivan

My happy little pill // Take me away // Dry my eyes // Bring color to my skies // My sweet little pill // Tame my hunger // Lie within // Numb my skin

Alice feels like she lacks imagination on her own. She thinks she is broken and that she can’t create real art alone. But at the same time she can’t help but lust after the Wonderland she used to conjure in her head alone. This song represents her dependency to drugs and how she needs them to feel like she has a real imagination. To her, drugs make her feel like she sees colors as they are and that the world can be beautiful if she lets herself get to that place.

nobody’s home - avril lavigne

Open your eyes // And look outside // Find the reasons why // You've been rejected // And now you can't find // What you left behind

Being kicked out hurt a lot more than Alice is willing to admit. She had spent so long trying to find who she was and who she wanted to be, but as soon as she showed that side to her family, they rejected her. This song reminds her that home isn’t always where your family is.

paris - the chainsmokers

If we go down then we go down together // They'll say you could do anything // They'll say that I was clever // If we go down then we go down together // We'll get away with everything // Let's show them we are better

As cheesy as it sounds, this is her current Madden song. Their relationship is weird and Alice is constantly patronizing him, but in the end she cares about him more than anyone else in the world. They know more about each other than they let themselves think. Sometimes she wants to tell Madden that they should just run off to Wonderland together and that can be that. But she never will probably.

[illyriantremors]

Beneath the Stars Chapter 6

Chapter: I II III IV V

AO3 Linkage

Summary: In an effort to get to know herself better, Feyre decides to take him up on his offer to join the Student Body Council where she helps Rhys's friends, including a particularly perky cousin, plan the upcoming Winter Formal dance.

Chapter 6

Amren was a vision in wicked delight when I pounced at her Monday afternoon. The prat had ignored my texts all weekend. She took one look at me, tucked her tongue between her lips right at the corner, and darted down behind her canvas.

Thankfully, there were no dragons nor mustaches littering the tableau on this occasion.

“Amren - what the hell!”

A gleeful, self-indulgent giggle unlike any sound I’d ever heard from Amren burst forth. I sat down like a lead weight. “Seriously - you gave him my phone number?”

Another giggle.

“And my address?”

Now she cackled.

“Amren, if you would please,” Mrs. Weaver said from her desk.

Amren settled back in, but didn’t reel the amusement in one bit. “Oh lighten up Feyre. He doesn’t bite and you could use a little shaking up in your life.”

“If this is about Tamlin-”

“Pft!” she scoffed. “Of course it’s about Tamlin. You don’t have to date Rhysand, but I’m tired of watching you moon over that boy when better options are out there. Trust me - I know.”

My eyes widened.

“No way! Did you two-”

She shook her head, but mixed some dark greens on her palette - if the earth could storm and brew as the oceans and skies. “No, but he certainly tried.”

A gasp escaped me. The thought of Rhysand entreating Amren - Amren who’s only romantic pursuit that I was aware of in recent history was a foreign exchange student from Germany who popped up two years ago with a devil’s tongue and jewelry to match that Amren simply couldn’t resist - was simply comical.

“I hope you gave him hell, Am,” I said blatantly beaming at her.

She looked up at me, the cat coming out to catch a mouse caught in the trap chasing cheese. “Rhysand may not bite, but I certainly do.”

“Girls, much as I do enjoy the stimulation one finds in another artist’s eye,” Mrs. Weaver said coming over to peek at us, “I suspect this conversation is not particularly relevant to your AP examinations?”

With a mumbled apology, I stared at my canvas.

Blank, blank, blank.

“Feyre?” Mrs. Weaver looked from my empty tableau to me and back. I sighed, sinking into my chair.

“A self-portrait? Really?”

Her look was kind - understanding. “It does not have to be quite so literal, my dear. I highly doubt the examiners expect ten unique representations of your face. Art is universal across the board and no one would ask for anything quite so literal nor predictable. You have to surprise them.”

“How?”

“Try surprising yourself first and see what happens.”

Whatever that meant.

“Really, Feyre. Just put something down for now so I can see you’ve tried.”

She moved on to another student and I continued to stare blankly at my canvas while Amren popped her headphones in and mixed the swirls of green onto her own piece. There was still something of a dragon hidden in the abstract of what she painted.

Surprise myself.

How exactly did someone surprise themselves when they’d known everything there was to know about who they were their entire life?

Then again, did I know myself? I thought I did. My life had never felt quite so unbalanced - mutable since mom left. There was a piece of me missing without her - and Elain, and Nesta, and maybe even dad too when he drank.

I was so proud when we finished unpacking in the new house and he hadn’t even opened the box with his liquor inside. That was the only time my dad disappeared and the hole inside my heart widened, was when he allowed the bottle to swallow him whole into his miserable depression without mom and I had to hope the lid hadn’t been magically re-sealed atop trapping him inside forever.

But I was still… Feyre, right? I was - damn, who the hell was I?

I painted and I went to school. I supposed that made me a painter and a student, but how obvious was that? Surprise them, surprise them, surprise them - surprise myself. How the hell was I supposed to -

“Amren? Amren!” I tugged on her shirt - plain black and capped at the shoulder - and whisper shouted Pst! At her until she took an earbud out. I could hear classical music playing through it - a soundtrack to murder by.

“What?”

I gulped, but forced the words out of my mouth. “There’s a - a student body council meeting today… isn’t there?”

The corners of Amren’s lips curled up like a fox’s ears spotting a rabbit across a snow-strewn meadow. “Why yes, Feyre. There certainly is. Why do you ask? You don’t fancy yourself coming,” and she set down her brush with obvious finality, my answer decided for me, “do you?”

I tried not to let the steam leaking out my ears become visible when I quietly asked to accompany her to the meeting.

I stood outside the administration building after school and texted Tamlin, apologizing for not being able to meet up with him like normal. I felt bad about our disagreement over the move and he was absent at lunch - abnormal for him. Food was not something he found easy to resist.

When I sent a follow up text five minutes after asking if I could make it up to him later that night, he replied back not a minute later: Absolutely. My place.

An arm rested over my shoulder - softly to give me space, close enough to feel a little warmth.

“You know you have to actually go inside to get credit for attending,” Rhysand said. “Unless you were planning on sending the family house ghost in your stead.”

“Why must you always insist on being so dramatic? Get off.” I jerked until his arm fell away. “You’ll ruin my hair. That ghost spent a good deal of time fussing with it this morning before I left.”

Rhys snorted and opened the door for me with a wide sweeping gesture. “After you, Feyre darling.”

I inhaled deeply, but walked forward. What the hell was I getting myself into?

A loud bark of laughter met me as Rhys led me into the administration conference room where the Student Body Council met every Monday for after school meetings. Cassian sat kicked back in one of the chairs with his legs propped up on the table while Azriel quietly recounted some odd joke or other that prompted the booming sounds coming from Cassian.

Their conversation didn’t stop as I stepped through the door, but Cassian took one look at me, then Rhys, then back to me and I swore his eyes sparked with a glint of fiery knowing. Azriel simply nodded at me before concluding his story.

“Feyre,” Cassian said. He slapped his hands together to rid them of the crumbs from the bag of Famous Amos cookies he’d been eating. “How’s your sister?”

“Ask her yourself,” I scoffed. “Didn’t you get a date? Or did she wise up and ditch your sorry ass after all.”

“You mean you don’t know?” His eyebrows rose, considering my ignorance. “Interesting.”

“Where’s Morrigan?” Rhys cut in, for which I was grateful.

“Getting out of Cheer,” Azriel said, staring down at the open binder in front of him and - I suspected - merely pretending to flit through it. “She’s meeting Amren on the way.”

So that’s where my friend had disappeared to after AP Studio Art. Part of me wondered if she’d done it intentionally for my embarrassment.

“Who’s Morrigan?” I asked, looking to Rhys.

“She’s-”

“Here,” Azriel said, cutting him off. Azriel must have been psychic because it was a good ten seconds before the blondest head I’d ever seen waltzed into the room like sunshine through a field - and came straight at me.

“You must be Feyre!”

“Morrigan,” Rhys hissed.

Morrigan swallowed me whole and over her shoulder I spotted Amren enjoying the sight of me cornered. There was no escaping now.

When she pulled back from the hug, Morrigan was all red lips and teeth grinning like a wildcat at me. Hell - she looked like a wildcat in that cheerleading uniform hugging her every delicious curve.

“I’m so excited to finally meet you. You have no idea!” Morrigan stamped her foot as she prattled on a million miles a minute, beaming the whole way through. I felt like I’d drank liquid gold. “You’re just - ugh, look at you! You’re everything I thought you’d be. My dear cousin has told me all about you.”

“He has?” I asked, not really sure what that would mean. We both looked at Rhys.

“You’re… perky today, Mor.”

She snorted. “When am I not?”

“You two are cousins?”

“Woefully, yes. But it has its perks - like planning this damned dance. Can we start yet?”

“Shouldn’t we wait for the principal and-”

“Nah!” Morrigan chirped. She walked past Cassian and slung her backpack over his feet still draped on the table. “Can we not?” Then she grabbed a seat and plopped down right between the two boys, Azriel sweating through his shirt while he tried to keep his eyes high at the worst of times and on his binder at the best. He frowned when he caught me looking and turned away from all of us.

“Ooh, Famous Amos,” Mor said snagging Cass’s cookies. “My favorite.” Cass didn’t protest the steal, much to my surprise.

I sat down on the opposite side of the table, Rhys sliding behind me to sit on my right while Amren took the seat on my left.

“We need a theme,” Rhys started, but Mor grunted indignantly.

“Aren’t you going to introduce her?”

Rhys’s eyes looked up and almost - just almost - rolled to the side. My jaw slackened slightly. This was possibly the one person in all of Prythian High who got under his skin, maybe ever.

“She already knows everyone,” Rhys replied dutifully, “including you, as you clearly just indicated.”

“Still.”

“Alright, fine.” He gave her a begrudging look, which she returned with enthusiasm, and said, “Everyone, this is Feyre. Feyre darling, this is everyone. She’ll be our Arts and Drama Chair.”

“Minus the darling,” I clarified, “because as I told you the first thousand times you said it, that’s not my name.”

“No it’s not,” he agreed. “Feyre is. The darling is just a perk.” He winked.

“Prick. Pri-ick.”

He smirked viciously and swiveled back around. “We need a theme-”

“Masquerade!” Mor interjected. “It’s perfect. We can do a black and white scheme - that’ll really make the dresses stand out like little pops of color in the crowd - and have low-lit lantern lights strung up everywhere. Very Phantom of the Opera.”

“I don’t know how I ever forget you two are related,” Cassian said, propping a single foot back on the table that Morrigan regarded very carefully. “Neither of you never shut your faces for a single damned moment.”

“Cassian,” Azriel said, obviously tense. The glare Mor had been about to unleash upon the Russian general’s son died when she looked at Az and put her hand on his.

“Don’t fuss, Az. We won’t fight,” she said the softest I’d heard her yet. She removed her touch and Azriel immediately placed both his scar-encrusted hands under the table.

“Much as I agree the masquerade concept is an enchanting one,” Rhys resumed, “the senior class did it our freshmen year. We’ll need something fresher.”

“Blood is fresh.”

We turned collectively to Amren who sat picking at one of her perfectly manicured nails.

Silence.

“You’re fucking creepy, Amren. I hope you know that.”

“Thank you, Cassian. I’m well aware.”

“Just trying to be helpful.”

Rhys rifled in his backpack for a moment and took out a scrap of paper he’d printed off. “This is the suggested list the principal gave us of approved and within budget themes. Much as I love lantern lighting, we don’t have hundreds of bucks to blow at Hobby Lobby.”

The sheet passed to Azriel who immediately passed it to Mor who naturally took the longest time with it. Cassian gave it no more than a glance before brushing it over to Amren who studied it carefully for no longer than was necessary to have it memorized and passed it on to me.

It was a fairly typical list of party themes ranging from casino night to circus carnivals and everything in between. But there wasn’t really anything… exciting. Nothing that suggested magic or whimsy or surprise. Nothing that made you want to feel the romance.

“Well?” Rhysand asked. When no one answered, I looked up from the paper and found them all staring at me expectantly.

“Well what?” I asked.

“You’re the Arts and Drama Chair,” Cassian said. “Figure it out.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, Sassy Cassy. You can’t expect me to pick the theme? I thought I was just here to play with poster boards and paint so things at least looked pretty when you made a mess.”

“Part of art is having a vision,” Rhys said. He took the list from me, crumpled it up, and tossed it behind him without another look. “Right now we currently have no vision. But we could use it sorely. This is one of the last big moments of our adolescent careers. We should make it memorable.”

His gaze was thoughtful, pressing even, as his violet eyes reigned down so intently on me. He actually trusted me to do this. A dance was trivial in the long run, but we all knew it meant a lot more than the one-off jokes between us would suggest. A kernel of pride blossomed in my chest at what he was asking of me.

I had to shut my eyes and lean back in my seat with my lips pursed to pretend I was merely considering ideas rather than just trying to escape his gaze.

Dance themes, dance themes…

Well, for starters, it was a winter dance. So anything summery and more upbeat was out. Winter was a cold season, but not without a little refinery. This dance needed to feel sophisticated and just a touch whimsical.

“What do you think of when you think of winter?” I asked. “What words come to mind.”

I kept my eyes closed as the room obliged me with answers, everything from Christmas and spiced apple cider (Morrigan) to ice and snow (Azriel) and weather cold enough to freeze your balls off (Cassian). And in the middle of it, I heard a velvet voice beside me whisper of the cold, cold dead of night, when the skies close and snow glides down.

A snowfall. Though that was a horrible name for it.

Almost as horrible as the way Rhys described it like there was a hidden pain somewhere there.

I remembered once when I was little my parents drove my sisters and I up to Big Bear for the weekend, one of the few places in the southern half of the state that got snow. It was my birthday and I’d told them I wanted to see what it looked like not to be able to see the grass anymore. I couldn’t have been more than five, but I never forgot the moment my dad woke me up at two in the morning in that little cabin in the mountains and told me it was snowing outside.

Mom tried to wake Nesta and Elain, but they couldn’t be bothered to move from their beds, too warm and cozy to see something that would still be there in the morning waiting for them.

But I got up. I went and I sat on the porch with my parents drinking hot cocoa while the snow fell and when it was over some time later, the clouds parted back and you could see the stars. They glistened and burned so bright even under a California sky and it was the most peaceful I’d ever felt. I wanted to reach up and touch each one.

“Starfall,” I said suddenly and my eyes popped open. And for some reason, I only looked at Rhys.

“It’s perfect.” I didn’t even have to explain.

Mor was teetering on the edge of her seat. She stole a sheet of notebook paper right out of Azriel’s hand and started scribbling furiously. “We can hang Christmas lights and get those little paper lamps that people hang candles in - and gold! Everything in gold and maybe little accents of silver here and there…” and on and on she went.

I didn’t say much for the rest of the meeting - if you could call it that. It felt more like a family dinner of sorts with occasional bickering before overwhelming laughter and wisecrack jokes. And at the center of it all were Rhys and Mor, the ring leaders casting fire and light down upon us all.

It was nice.

“When are we going dress shopping?!” Mor asked as we walked out an hour later, the initial details for planning the dance set.

“Dress shopping?” I shot her a look. “I’m not going to the dance.”

Mor’s face shattered. Five steps ahead of me, Rhys’s head jerked.

“What do you mean you aren’t going, Feyre Archeron?”

“When did you learn my last name?”

“Feyre,” Mor said, her head tilting to one side as she frowned. “I sit three rows behind you in Calculus.”

“You do?”

Mor tipped her head back and roared with laughter. “You’re a little clueless, hun, but that’s okay.” She laced her arm in mine and if it weren’t for my sluggish pace, I had a feeling we’d be skipping ahead full speed. “And I’m going to get you dress shopping whether you like it or not. I need an opinion from someone who doesn’t wear black for a living.”

“I wear color plenty,” Amren said behind us sharply and I almost jumped. I hadn’t realized she had followed so close.

“Grey does not count!” We stepped outside into the warm sunshine and Mor paused to close her eyes, basking in the heat. “It’s so nice and warm. Don’t you just love how the sun dances on your skin when it’s hot like this?”

It had to be nearly a hundred degrees out, but she opened her eyes and gave me the brightest smile, pure happiness radiating out of her at 110%. A few feet away, the boys stood talking, but neither Rhys nor Cassian noticed the shy face staring blatantly at the long golden locks in front of them.

I could see why he was so smitten. Morrigan was a force of nature designed to orchestrate us all into living.

When everyone got out their car keys, it felt like an illusion had cracked inside me. I’d forgotten about life for a little while inside that room with all of them and I liked it - a lot. Slowly, I fished my own set of keys out and made my excuses for not joining them all when we got to the student lot.

I was excited, for once, to tell Tamlin everything. There was suddenly this very warm spot in my life where maybe I could carve out a little niche for myself - one that wasn’t isolating like my art.

“Well?” Tamlin asked when he opened the door to his home for me, this sad little sort of smile playing out on his lips. The bright, happy words I’d been bursting at the seams to keep secret in the car - to save and hoard for him lest even the air snatch their excitement - cut off in my heart at the sight of him.

Truthfully, he looked awful and I felt even worse than he looked for ditching him.

“Well nothing,” I said and grabbed him, leading him upstairs to the room I knew all too well. I realized about halfway up that I hadn’t actually told him yet where I had disappeared to this afternoon or who I was with. My stomach knotted guiltily.

And for the first time maybe ever, we had sex and none of the sick, self-loathing feelings went away - not even a little bit.

We had sex - and I felt nothing but a guilt I did not understand.

xx

[leominster1941]

1930s Telegram Boy and the 1960s Post Service in Leominster.

This Post returns to the writings of Alec Haines. Most of this article reflects on the Leominster’s postal service in the 1930s. Focusing on the trials and tribulations of Bill Thomas a Telegram Boy.

The Post Office had been built in 1909.

It also provides an opportunity to reflect on Leominster’s postal service sixty years ago.

The 1960s Postal Service in Leominster no longer employed Telegram Boys. It was, however, a highly visible and important service for the local community. Like many other families we did not have a telephone. There were still two mail deliveries each day, early morning and late afternoon. Telegrams were delivered separately as they had to be signed for. Telegrams were still synonymous with bad news due the many delivering dreadful news during World War II.

Almost everyone was on first name terms with ‘their’ Postman. The term ‘Postmen’ was accurate, there were no ‘Postwomen’ that I can remember. Most working women were paid less than men even for doing the same job. Trade Unions and most working men feared women doing the job would lead to lower wages. Most Postmen had more than one job. They may well have been your window cleaner on another day. It is extraordinary that in 2018 a public organisation like the BBC is still paying women less for doing the same job as men.

They still wore the distinct uniform and cap worn for decades. Leominster had its own sorting office located at the rear of the main Post Office in the Corn Square. They appeared to be two totally detached departments.  The Post Office was always busy with at least five counters open all day. Postal Orders were used by many people, especially those who did not have Bank Accounts. Having a Bank Account of course entitled you to a cheque book. Like many they did have a Post Office account. Dad always kept his Post Office Book in his jacket pocket. My parents certainly did not have a bank account or cheque book until the late 1960s. Many also queued to by stamps to save toward the telephone bill and T.V. License.

My experience as a casual Postman over the Christmas period was enlightening. The postbags were especially heavy this time of year.  It was also a struggle to arrive at the sorting office by 6.00a.m.! However, by far the worst experiences involved dogs. How does a sign ‘Beware of the Dog’ actually help a Postman? You were under an obligation to deliver the Post no matter the obstacles, after all, it was the Royal Mail. The big bonus were the Christmas tips. It was not only given in the form of money; a warm mince pie was almost as rewarding as cash, especially on a cold morning. Not everyone cleared their paths of snow and ice. The people of Hampton Gardens saw it as a duty to not only clear their own paths but the street pavements as well. Ash collected from household fires was spread over the ice.

Alec Haines now writes much more lucidly about a 1930s Telegram Boy. Bill Thomas became a Telegram Boy in 1932 and was one of two boys employed by our local Post Office. Of very smart appearance with a round pill-box hat, highly polished leather pouch (to carry the telegrams) fixed onto a belt with shiny brass buckles, his uniform immaculate and his bicycle cleaned to perfection, he was inspected every day by the Post Master. All this presented to the public and accepted that this was the standard that made them to be worthy of being a part of the Post Office. The first telegram boy reported for work at 8 a.m., the other at 10 am. The last telegram had to be phoned for immediate delivery by 8 pm. Bill remarks on the times that he would have had the front wheel of the bike just inside the doors of the Post Office shed at two minutes before 8 pm. ready to go home, when the bell would ring and he would have to take a telegram to KIMBOLTON for a farmer who was a sheep dog breeder. On arrival “there the farmer would grumble to him. "There's a sheep-dog arrived at Leominster railway Station. Why didn't you bring it with you? Now I've got to cycle all the way down to Leominster and bring the dog back with me". Little did he realise that the telegram boy would not have known anything of its contents. The envelope was sealed by the man on duty inside the Post Office, who had received the phone call. During a normal working day the two boys would often deliver over a hundred telegrams. In those days seeing a boy going to a house with a telegram often brought fear or discomfort to anyone receiving a knock on the door, for it was usually sad news not good news. On the delivery of the telegram, the boy had to wait at the house for them to read its contents, in case a reply was needed. Telephones in those days were very rare indeed.

 Many telegrams were to be delivered to extremely remote areas in the surrounding country-side. _ Sure enough they all seemed to come in for delivery a few minutes before 8 pm. when the telegram boy was expecting to finish work. Bill recalls how quite often he would have to deliver a telegram to THE CAMP at IVINGTON, or to the game keepers cottage in the long, dark, dense woood above BRIERLY COURT. Taking his bicycle along those roads in the middle of winter was in itself an endurance test. The only front lamp they had in those days was a small ” oil lamp” (paraffin) which barely threw a light even on to the front wheel. Hitting a pot hole in the road would throw the lamp off and those pieces now all over the road, had to be found, for he dare not proceed without a light. At the next gate a policeman would surely be there, unexpectedly waiting in case some poachers might come through the fields. To be caught riding a bike withoutlights was considered to be a very serious offence. His job was earning him 10 shillings and Sixpence per week which was too good to lose for the sake of a bicycle lamp, however poor its light.

 The oil lamp had to be functioning properly, for young Bill, having just left school would have to leave his bicycle near a gate and carry the lamp with him if a telegram was to be delivered to MR. PARRY, the game keeper in BRIERLY WOOD. Proceeding through the field he approaches that thick, long wood. In total darkness he now moves into the wood, absolutely terrified, and starts to climb the very steep gradient. A briar from a bramble ‘bush sweeps his logs from under him as if he had been cut down by a scythe. The oil lamp, which he. had in his hand. rolled down into some bushes. There he crouches, striking match after match from the box to find it and relight the lamp before the paraffin has all spilled out. Birds fly about at his slightest movement. An owl flies uncomfortably near to his pillbox hat and settles in a tree very close to him. afraid of nothing in the wood. Black birds fly quite low. Pigeons take off from their high perches. preceeded by the cock pheasants which heard him get off his bike in the first place.

 He fights his way slowly up through the wood and is encouraged by the bark of a house dog, for Bill had been stopped dead in his tracks by a fox that had jumped over a tree stump just in front of him. Breathing heavily, more from fright than fatigue, he sees a light from the game keeper’s house some way ahead of him. Climbing faster he notices in the shadow of the dimly lit doorway, a figure of a man with a shot gun resting beneath his arm pit. He had been just too late, for the fox had wanted something for supper but the gates of the pheasant pens were shut and bolted for the night.

 The gamekeeper sees the small light approaching, picks out the light thatshines on those highly polished brass buckles and shouts a welcome to the holder of the lamp for he knows it must only be the Telegram Boy, it can be no other.

 The lamp is replaced on the bicycle, he pedals back as fast as his legs will allow  him. Just before rounding the bend at IVINGTON CHURCH he hears some scuffling just ahead, holds his breath but sees nothing. Only a quiet shrill squeak pierces the silence. The answer for this, was that further on perched on a parapet of the bridge over THE ARROW, a large owl was pecking away at something, and as the little light drew nearly level with the owl it flies away carrying something larger than a mole, could have even been a rabbit.

 That was the last scare he had that night as he reaches the Post Office and pushes his bike into the shed which had once seen the front wheel at 7.59 pm. It was now 9.59 pm. He hastens home to clean his pill-box hat, his uniform, belt and boots for 8.00 am. He will still have to pass the inspection next morning by the Post Master who will never know that one of his lesser staff had fought a terrifying battle with nature the night before, and only just became successful.

 A Postman in rural areas, was not just a man in uniform delivering and collecting letters and parcels, he was more of an AMBASSADOR for the Post Office, regarded by nearly every family as their personal friend who could be relied upon to bring from town many of the days necessities, papers, odd items of groceries, medicines etc. At Christmas time he was rewarded by them in so many different ways, never going without a drink from every household. The Country Postman usually managed to get home sometime during the twenty four hours of Christmas Day, whether he was delivering on foot or cycle.

 There were, of course, instances when the postman failed to get home within reasonable hours, as happened to one whose round was mainly in and around the village of HAMNISH CLIFFORD. Well gone dusk he had not arrived home, his anxious family at their wits end contacted their near neighbours to organize a search party.‘ Word was sent to postmen at Leominster who then cycled to the voltage to join in the search. lle was eventually found at 4 am. fast asleep in a ditch still under the influence of drink. Scores of people had passed the spot looking for him. Fortunately, his mail bag fell beneath him and the water in the ditch. Like so many times before he would not be reported to the higher echelon of the Post Office; it was none of their business.

 Today’s Postman in this part of England still aspires to all the qualities of his colleagues of years ago. Many are still on foot and bicycle in town, still bitten by dogs large and small, more frequently now for more houses means more dogs. He can at least get to hospital more quickly, for he is usually driving a van. This is a little more comfortable. Not many years ago a motor-bike and Sidecar was the speediest means of delivery and collection, each fitted with a carbide lamp. How easily one forgot to make sure there was enough water in the lamp until suddenly the light dimmed to the brightness of a lighted match as the bike sped along winding country roads doing 40 m.p.h., and finally the light going out all together. A complete stop had to be made until some water could found from out of a ditch or a brook to put into the special chamber of the lamp, this would then mix with the carbide powder giving off a gas which when lit gave a far better light than the oil-lamps (paraffin) which easily blew out in the wind. What a blessing when the inventor of the dynamo had his contraption fitted to the bicycle, the motor-bike and the motor-car. He saved the Post Office a lot of overtime payments and relieved the country-side of a decent amount of surplus water as well.

Today the speed of delivery of a certain special mail at a high rate ensuring thatany letter would reach its destination in any part of the UK. within 24 hours, has by extreme desire to fulfil those obligations delivered a letter via Shobdon Aerodrome to an address in Scotland by helicopter. To deliver that one letter could not cost less than £1,000.00 at today’s rates, yet an agreement had to behonoured and HER MAJESTY'S MAIL once more fulfilled their obligation.

[latinosbelike]

A Mix of Home and Away

By Oscar Mancinas

…didn’t know [music] would be what would begin to tell her what she remembers.

-Ofelia Zepeda

        I have the (mis)fortune of belonging to a diaspora. My parents left their homeland and have yet to return—and probably won’t. Meanwhile, ever since I had a say, I’ve done very little to return to any homeland, imagined or otherwise; in fact, I’ve done the opposite and taken almost every opportunity I can to travel, to move, to resist calling anyplace “home.” However, I’m about to return, for a long-term stay, to the land that birthed and raised me, and, this return—the first time I’ll be back home for an extended stay in roughly a decade—brings with it a reflective mood. Channeling this mood into recollection, I decided, would be the best way to go about things. To that end, I’ve compiled my own “mixtape for diaspora,” made up of songs that have followed me—songs that evoke sharp, unmistakable moments but also transcend and take shape in new contexts.

        Choosing music as the backdrop felt obvious. Music is memory. It’s personal yet communal; it connects and divides us, makes us feel when we’re numb, tells things about ourselves we don’t know, or don’t want to know, and, most of all, music tells us where we’ve been and what we’ve done. I divided my selections—or tried, at least—roughly into eras. To be clear, though, by no means do these songs fall along a clean chronology because: a) that’s boring, and b) if you’re part of a diaspora, you know time, history, and memory are anything but linear; rather, these three beats ebb and explode, seemingly at random, as though triggered by something said or left unsaid.

I. Early Fragile Nights

        In my family, there are many of us, and when I was a kid, we took any excuse we could to gather at someone’s house, grill carne asada, and play the night away. The kids would chase each other around until we were too tired to do little else but sit and watch our parents dance and sway to music from their home. Always, the music opening the night was upbeat, a celebration of life and family. Those of us present were to bounce and cheer—nothing’s promised when you leave home, especially when you do so for another country, so vamos a bailar!

1.“El Noa Noa” - Juan Gabriel

(Note: Of course we start with El Divo de Juárez)

        As the night went on, though, the songs slowed and became melancholic. My parents, aunts, and uncles—all firmly entrenched in their respective marriages—swayed and crooned to lyrics of intense heartbreak and loss, like they were the protagonists in each song. Night blended with tender futility, and every grown up moved in their own space like only they knew, truly, the depth of the singer’s yearning. Separated from those nights by more than a few thousand miles and two decades—maybe this says more about me than them, but—I’m tempted to say, for the adults moving slowly through the summer night, the missing beloved in each song was their lost homeland. The pain, I imagine, came from how the land of their birth—present in music, food, and family, nonetheless—was utterly irretrievable.

2. “Como te voy olvidar” – Ángeles Azules

3. “Golpes en el corazón” – Los Tigres del Norte

(Note: A lyric from this song inspired the first poem I ever published in print, which you can also read here)

II. Boppin’ Around the Barrio

        When we were old enough to realize we were different from our parents—but still too young to appreciate what those differences meant—we were restless. The songs of lost love or describing the beauty of another land didn’t always resonate. What, after all, did those singers know about the hood? What could they tell us about being brown but speaking a mixed Spanish? These kinds of questions stirred within us, and we ran around hoping to find answers. Worse still, as we got older, and teachers took notice of me and didn’t take notice of many of my peers—at least not for positive reasons—it became clear that soon I’d have other questions to answer on my own. If I sound melodramatic or nostalgic, it’s probably because I am. Aside from the comradery of shared struggle, little is to be missed from adolescence in the ghetto—and, yet, it’s still home.

        So, before we get too far ahead, we need to stop and appreciate what it was to be on the West Coast(ish), as hip hop from Los Angeles and Oakland became the soundtrack to every scene on a sun-drenched day on the streets. Kickin’ it in the park, cruisin’ down the street, or just chillin’ on somebody’s porch, when Chicano and Mexican artists got their hands on hip hop, it finally felt like somebody knew who we were and what we were going through.

4. “On a Sunday Afternoon” – A Lighter Shade of Brown

(Note: A Lighter Shade of Brown introduced me to the phrase “Brown and Proud”)

5. “Comprendes Mendes” – Control Machete

(Note: ¡El Cerro de la Silla presente!)

        Still, try as we might to shake off some of the old country’s cultura, we couldn’t deny its power. Being a Southwestern Latinx, especially, means also being tuned into Norteño Latinx flavor—that border can’t do anything to stop culture from crossing both ways. Tejas, then, and Tejano music was never more than a track or two away, and even though we didn’t know her for very long Selena made all of us dance like we belonged. 

6. “Bidi Bidi Bom Bom” – Selena

(Note: I won’t fault any reader for pausing the article to go down any number of youtube/spotify rabbit holes, but I especially can’t discourage anyone from watching every single Selena video out there. She’s majestically singular.)

III. Foreigner in a Familiar Land

        Then I went away. In a very white place, in a very white school, I was severed from everything I knew. Never was I more distant, yet hyperaware, of my Latinidad than when I went to college. I tried, nonetheless, to make do. Like a lot of my classmates, who also felt their own brands of disaffection, I relied on emotionally-drenched indie folk and pop music to try to work out where I fit in this suddenly-isolating world, and it helped, a little. 

        At times, though, the new music on which I depended for survival and guidance felt like using a blunt instrument to self-examine almost microscopic wounds. I could relate to artists and bands singing in English, but they couldn’t always relate to me, not all of me, at least. Uncared for went the parts of me that speak almost exclusively in Spanish whenever I’m on the phone with my folks, or shares a joke with complete strangers in a bodega, barbershop, or bus stop, or sits somewhere and reads Reinaldo Arenas or Guillermo Rosales or Elena Poniatowska or Federico García Lorca, or…you get it. Anyway, I craved something and didn’t realize it until it smacked me upside the head and said: “¡O’e we’on, ya p’e, deja de joder!”

        In the colonial capital of Lima, Perú, I had my horribly-belated introduction to Rock Latino. I met, and fell in love with what it meant to be young, Latinx, and frustrated. Thanks to the friends and family I made in Perú, I found the sounds of resistance and desire in my mother tongue. These artists sang of longing, alienation, and primal anger with how, still, the world was not better for us or our people. Intoxicated by it all, I became, momentarily, a howl—freed from a mouth normally forced shut. Time bent and compressed as though I’d snapped back into an existence I was meant to be leading all along, and suddenly it felt like loved ones I’d lost or left behind could join the loved ones who’d found me, and we could have it all. Nights in bars, friends’ houses, clubs, cafes, and parks crashed into and caressed us like the Pacific does Lima’s coast, and I swore I never wanted it to end.

7. “Las Torres” – Los Nosequién y Los Nosecuantos

8. “De música ligera” – Soda Stereo

9. “Lamento Boliviano” – Los Enanitos Verdes

       I imagine, or I hope, everyone feels something like this in this in their early 20s. For me these songs, and the memories of that momentary liberation—or belonging—still bring me a small, quiet peace. For once, diaspora and I could dance, almost, in harmony.

10. “Bicicleta” – Kanaku & El Tigre

(Note: On Kanaku & El Tigre: I saw them open for Andrew Bird in a bar in Lima at 2 am, so don’t ever try to step to me or my indie cred, fool.)

11. “Cinema Pasión” – Turbopótamos

IV. Bring It All Home

      Back in the country of my birth, I’ve learned to carry these songs, and the feelings they conjure, wherever I go. Being, once again, back in an overwhelmingly white space—as many grad schoolers can relate—I have a newfound sense of belonging and focus. Doubt inevitably creeps in, but I know for whom I do the work I do. I know I have a pueblo—several, in fact—out there who hunger like I hunger, and I delight in our chances to connect and give each other a knowing nod when our colors are flourishing in full force.

12. “Latinoamérica” – Calle 13

      As I said before, I’m preparing to end my self-imposed exile and get back to the land from whence I came. A mixture of angst and relief accompanies me, so I’ll resist trying to tie this all together because, honestly, I’m all over place. This is all so personal—as music should be, I think—and I want to believe my journey is nowhere near finished. Instead, then, I’ll encourage whoever reads this to reflect on, recover, and share the music that’s propelled them. I’m always down to learn about the songs people hold close, and how they push and protect you, especially when it seems like loneliness and pain are around the next corner. What keeps us going? Maybe the answer will find us in the next song.

13. “Pick Up Folks” – Los Vikingos del Norte

(¡Viva Chihuahua!)

14. “Leña de pirul” -  La Santa Cecilia

If you want the mix in its entirety, you can find it here. Hasta pronto.