#ive also been told many times now that it makes me intriguing. people tell me 'i wish i could do that'

[tazmiilly]

sharing literally 0 information about yourself but still getting hit on at work is so funny.

do my trust issues and paranoia intrigue you

[trini-trin-trin]

Sharing this from a FB group that I am in. I was very moved by the article and felt affinity with the experiences shared. A really sweet read.

Here is the article if you don't want to click on the link (I know it is a little long, but well worth your time to read!):

The letter I received ten years ago was unsigned and bore no return address. Clearly its author did not expect, much less want, a reply. A message in a bottle, from no one to no one, that letter still remains the most bizarre form of communication. It asks nothing but to be read, promises nothing but to share a few facts and feelings, and, seeing that it must have been dashed off on a lined yellow sheet that seemed hastily torn out of a pad of paper, the author would not be surprised if, after skimming through it, the recipient decided to crumple and lob it into the closest dust bin.

The letter is one page long. One page is enough. The handwriting is uneven, perhaps because the author had lost the habit of writing in longhand and preferred the keyboard. But his grammar is perfect. The man knew what he was doing. I assume he was writing the note by hand because he didn’t want traces of it on his laptop, or because he knew he was never going to send it as an email and risk a reply. Now that I think of it, he probably didn’t care if it even reached its recipient, a local Bay Area reporter who had mentioned my novel about two young men who fall in love one summer in Italy in the mid-1980s. The reporter eventually forwarded it to me, minus its envelope with the postmark. It took no time to see that all the author of the letter was looking for was a chance to blurt out the words he couldn’t dare breathe elsewhere.

My book had spoken to him. His letter spoke to me.

So here it is: dated April 16, 2008.

I came upon Mr. Aciman’s book while on a business trip back East. Not the type of book I am normally able to read, so I bought a copy for the flight home. I think I’m glad I did.

You see, I was Elio. I was 18 and my Oliver was 22. Though the time and place were different, the feelings were remarkably the same. From believing that you are the only person who has these feelings, to the whole “he loves me – he loves me not” scenario, Mr. Aciman got it right. I was particularly impressed with the attention he gave to the morning after Elio’s and Oliver’s first encounter. The guilt, the loathing, the fear. I felt it too much. I had to put the book down for a while.

But in the end I was able to finish the book before we landed at SFO. Which was good, because I couldn’t take the book home. Unlike Elio it was I who married and had children. My Oliver died from AIDS in 1995. I’m still living a parallel life. My name is not important. His name was Dwight.

Instead, I kept the letter. I kept it for ten years.

What moved me was not just its sobering matter-of-factness or its hint of downplayed sorrow, but the associations it provoked in my mind. It reminded me of those short, clipped messages to loved ones, written by people about to be shipped off to the death camps who knew they’d never be heard from again. There is a chilling immediacy about their hurriedly scribbled notes that say everything there is to say in the fewest possible words — there wasn’t enough time for more, no smarmy pieties, no hand-wringing, no treacly hugs and kisses before the tragic end. It also made me think of the moving phone messages left by those who finally realized they were not going to make it out alive from the Twin Towers and that only their family’s answering machine was going to take their call.

“My name is not important,” he writes, almost as an apology for remaining anonymous; yet the author drops quite a number of hints about himself — hints he likely knows will stir his reader’s wistful curiosity to know what made him write the letter in the first place, what he hoped to accomplish, and if writing did indeed help. The letter itself allows us to see that he travels for business. We also sense that he probably lives in the Bay Area and that he travels not infrequently to the East Coast, since, as he writes, he is “back” in the East. And we know one thing more: that he simply needed to come out and tell someone that a man called Dwight had been his lover when the two were young. The rest is a cloud. We’ll never know more. Writing has served its purpose. We write, it seems, to reach out to others. Whether we know them or not doesn’t matter. We write to put out into the real world something extremely private within us, to make real what often feels unreal and ever so elusive about ourselves. We write to give a shape to what would otherwise remain amorphous. This is as true about authors as about those who want to correspond with them. Over the years, many have written to me either after reading or seeing Call Me by Your Name. Some tried to meet me; others confided things they’d never told anyone; and some even managed to call me at the office and, on speaking about my novel, would eventually apologize before bursting out crying. Some were in jail; some were barely adolescents, others old enough to look back at loves seven decades past; and some were priests locked in silence and secrecy. Many were closeted, others totally out; some were widows who felt a resurgence of hope if only by reading about the loves of two young men called Elio and Oliver in Italy; some were very young girls eager to meet their long-awaited Oliver; and some recalled former gay lovers whom they’d occasionally bump into years later but who’d never acknowledge what they’d once shared and done together when both were schoolmates and neither was married. All were keenly aware of living a parallel life. In that parallel life things are as they perhaps should be. Elio and Oliver still live together. And no one has secrets there.

Unlike Dwight’s lover, everyone who took the time to write to me did not withhold their names, but all had, at one point or another, withheld something very primal. They withheld it from themselves, from a relative, from a friend, a classmate, or colleague, or from a beloved who would never have guessed what troubled longings seethed below their averted gaze whenever they crossed paths.

Some readers wrote to tell me they felt that my novel had changed them, and given them new insights into themselves; some felt it was urging them finally to turn a new leaf in their lives. But some couldn’t go so far and, despite their perfect command of language, confessed lacking the words to explain why they were so moved by my novel or why they felt an unresolved longing for things they’d never considered or desired before. They were experiencing an upwell of emotions and of ungraspable might-have-beens that were asking to be reckoned with because they seemed more real than life itself, a sense of themselves that beckoned from an opposite bank they’d never known was there and whose potential loss now was a source of inconsolable grief. Hence their tears, their regrets, and the overpowering sense of being lost in their own lives.

And yet, they said, theirs were not tears of sorrow. They were tears of recognition, as though the novel itself were a mirror for readers to watch their own emotions laid bare before them. These responses made me aware that Call Me by Your Name does not call attention to anything readers didn’t already know, nor does it bring new truths or revelations; all it does is shed new light on things that were long familiar but that they never took the time to consider. It would be so tempting to say that they are reminded of their forgotten first loves; the truth is that all loves, even those that occur late in life, are first loves. There is always fear, shame, reluctance, and not a tiny dose of spite. Desire is agony.

Everyone who’s read Call Me by Your Name understands not only the struggle both to speak and hold back their truth but also the shame that comes whenever we want something from someone. Desire is always cagey, always secretive — we’ll tell everyone we know about the person we crave to hold naked in our arms, but the very last one to know this will be the person we crave. Same-sex desire is even more guarded and watchful, especially in those who are just discovering their sexuality. Awkwardness and desire are strange bedfellows at a young age, but shame and inexperience are just as paralyzing as fear when we watch them tussling with the urge to be bold. You’re torn between the raw horniness that makes you dream scenes you hope to forget as soon as you’re up and the scenes you pray you’ll dream again and again — if dreams are all you’ll have. Silence and solitude exact a cost that leaves us emotionally wrecked. At some point we need to speak.

So “is it better to speak or die?” asks Elio, the narrator of Call Me by Your Name, quoting words penned by the sixteenth-century Marguerite de Navarre in her collection of tales known as The Heptameron. Marguerite was the sister of King Francis I and the grandmother of Henry IV, himself the grandfather of Louis XIV, hence she was plenty familiar with court intrigue, gossip, and the risks of opening up to someone who may not welcome what’s in our heart and could easily make us pay for it. Not everyone who has written to me has dared to speak their hearts to those they loved. Some have sought silence — slow, lingering droplets of quiet desperation taken every night before bedtime until they realize they’ve been dead and didn’t even know it. Many have written to me with the feeling of having missed their chance when someone tethered his rowboat to their jetty and simply asked them to jump in. “Some sentence or thought on almost every page,” writes a reader, “triggers tears and knots my throat and chest. Tears well up in my eyes on the subway, at my computer at work, walking down the street. Perhaps I am weeping in part because I know that at my age there is virtually no possibility of experiencing anything remotely comparable to what Elio experiences with Oliver.” Someone else writes, “Reading Call Me by Your Name made me feel a love I never had.” A happily married 50-plus colleague took me aside and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this much in love in my whole life.” “I'm 23,” tweeted someone else, “and have never felt such love, until I read Call Me by Your Name. I feel like I lived it.” “Elio and I are essentially the same age,” writes a teenage girl. “I have never really experienced his environment of the Italian summer…My experiences have only taken place halfway between nature and smog, however I have felt the same tension, fear, guilt and overwhelming love that you express perfectly through both Elio and Oliver…Finding myself in Elio was something I never expected and I’m positive that I won’t experience anything quite like it ever again. The first girl I ever loved remains…the only girl I have ever loved and though everything she and I shared…lives now as a secret between two friends.” “I finished reading Call Me by Your Name a couple of days ago,” writes someone else, “and wanted to let you know how much it affected me. It felt like a narration of my thoughts that I had systematically buried long ago.” And finally this from a 72-year-old: “I was fascinated by the idea of parallel lives where would I have been if I had gone with him, where would I be if I traveled alone? Maybe the point is just what do I do with the gift you have given me during the remainder of my life.”

There are at least 500 more such letters and emails.

Some find themselves weeping at the end of the film or the novel, not for what happened long ago or for what did not and might never happen in their own lives but for what has yet to happen, for the terrifying moment when they too will soon have to decide whether to speak or die. This from an 18-year-old: “[Your novel] gives me hope that one day I will meet someone whom I desire so badly that I’ll actually find it in me to make a move, the way Oliver is that someone for Elio. Maybe my Oliver will also turn out to be someone that I realize I love as well as desire.” She was crying for a week, as was this 15-year-old young man: “I stopped reading…because I didn’t want [the book] to end, didn’t want the wounds that you caused me to close, I didn’t want to overcome, for some reason that I have yet to find out. I wanted to stay a wreck, emotionally and mentally fragile….My mother handed me tissues because she had never seen me cry like this. I had finished your book and ‘moved’ is too weak a word to express what your book had done to me. Here a week later and it is literally all I can think about, not my midterms coming up, but…Elio and Oliver and if it is better to speak or die. You answered questions I didn’t even think I had.”

Indeed, the whole novel seems to enable the outing of all manner of feelings, feelings from Elio’s relentless inward journey and obsessive self-examination that readers are invited to identify with. Through Elio’s unfettered introspection they too feel exposed and sliced open like a crustacean without a slough, now forced to look at itself in the mirror. No wonder they are moved. The mask that is torn off their faces is not just the mask that conceals same-sex desires from themselves and from others. Rather, it is the realization, through Elio’s voice, of what they truly feel, who they truly are, what they fear, what bears their signature, and what coy little shenanigans they go through to read others and hope to reach them. Some identified with some effusive sentences in my novel so much that they had them tattooed on their bodies. They even attach photos of these tattoos. People have also tattooed peaches on themselves!

But what moves most people — and this is as true now as it was when the novel first came out — is the father’s speech. Here he not only tells his son to nurse the flame and “don’t snuff it out” after his son’s lover has left Italy, but that he too, the father, envies his son’s relationship with a male lover. This speech tears away the last vestige of a veil between reader and truth and is a moving tribute to the irreducible honesty between father and son.

Most readers have written to me about the scene because the father’s speech rekindles the very difficult moment when they decided to come out to their parents — or, as is often the case with people 60, or 70 or older, it reminds them of the conversation they wished they’d had but never did have with their parents. This is the loss no one forgets and from which no one recovers after seeing Call Me by Your Name. It bears the very essence of that precious and life-defining might-have-been moment that never happened and never will.

Here is the speech:

“Look…[y]ou had a beautiful friendship. Maybe more than a friendship. And I envy you. In my place, most parents would hope the whole thing goes away, or pray that their sons land on their feet soon enough. But I am not such a parent. In your place, if there is pain, nurse it, and if there is a flame, don’t snuff it out, don’t be brutal with it. Withdrawal can be a terrible thing when it keeps us awake at night, and watching others forget us sooner than we’d want to be forgotten is no better. We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of thirty and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything — what a waste!...

“… {L]et me say one more thing. It will clear the air. I may have come close, but I never had what you had. Something always held me back or stood in the way. How you live your life is your business. But remember, our hearts and our bodies are given to us only once. Most of us can’t help but live as though we’ve got two lives to live, one is the mockup, the other the finished version, and then all those versions in between. But there’s only one, and before you know it, your heart is worn out, and, as for your body, there comes a point when no one looks at it, much less wants to come near it. Right now there’s sorrow. I don’t envy the pain. But I envy you the pain.”

I received the anonymous letter sometime in early May 2008. At the time, I was staying at my parents’, because my father was suffering from throat and mouth cancer and was already in hospice care. He had refused radiation and chemotherapy, so I knew his days were numbered; though morphine was clouding his mind, he was still lucid enough to bandy a few quips about a host of subjects. He had stopped eating and drinking water because swallowing had become very painful. One afternoon while I was stealing a nap, the phone rang. A reporter I’d met in California had just received a letter, which she wanted to share with me. I told her to read it over the phone. After she’d read it I asked if she felt she could mail it to me. I wanted to show it to my father, I said, and explained he was dying. She felt for me. We talked about my father for a while. I told her I was trying to make it up to him these days, and that he too had been exceptionally easy to be with. How was it growing up with him? she asked. Tense, I replied. Always is, she added. Then the conversation ended, and she promised to mail the letter soon.

After hanging up, I got out of bed and went in to see him. Over the past few days, I had made a point of reading to him, which he liked a great deal, especially now that he was having difficulty focusing. But rather than read to him the memoirs of Chateaubriand, one of his favorite authors, and feeling buoyed by the letter I’d been read on the phone, I asked if he’d like me to read from the French translation of Call Me by Your Name, the galleys of which I had just received from Paris that very morning. Why not, since you wrote it, he said. He was proud of me. So I began to read from the very beginning, and soon enough I knew I was opening up a subject neither he nor I had ever broached before. But I knew he knew what I was reading and why I was reading it to him. This made me happy. Perhaps it made him happy as well. I’ll never know.

That evening, after the rest of us had dinner, he asked if I could continue reading from my novel. I was nervous about arriving at the father’s speech because I didn’t know how he’d react to it, though he was the kind of father who would have given that very same speech himself. But the speech was two hundred pages away still, and that would have taken many, many days. Perhaps I should skip some parts, I thought. But no, I wanted to read him the whole book. My father didn’t last long enough to hear the father’s speech. And when the letter finally arrived from California, he was already gone. His name was Henri, he was 93 years old, and he inspired everything I’ve written.

[lady-plantagenet]

if you’re still doing those: edward iv / elizabeth woodville for the ship bingo 🕊x

I’m so sorry, this whole past week has been one massive mental breakdown and I have been finding it incredibly hard to do anything besides uni assignments and writing. Also, I have a lot to say about these two so I didn’t want to half-ass it.

Some Comments:

I don’t know if I told you this but this used to be my OTP, like years ago when I first got into this era and did not think/know much about Clarence and the others. But now it’s no longer the case and that’s not necessarily because it got replaced by gisabel per se but because I’ve always found it extremely hard to reconcile myself with the infidelity aspect. Even when I was more childish I felt a bit dissapointed in the fact that he didn’t appoint her (or Anthony) regent, like obviously now I understand why it was to an extent untenable politically, but back then my younger mind just saw it as ‘he trusted his brother more’, which kind of threw a wrench. So much for the ‘it’s complicated’ square. The problem with long marriages is that the delicious aspect tends to wane, and that can’t be helped in a 20 year long marriage! But obviously the 1464-1470 years taken into isolation... well... it was the epitome of delicious, sexual and romantic. You might find me pointing this out wierd given that I didn’t make the same remarks on Catherine of Valois and Owen Tudor who were also a pretty long marriage, it’s just that... in my mind they kind of stagnate age-wise even as they advance past their twenties because the whole narrative (historical and fictional) around them focuses on the first years of their union and the tribulations, whereas Edward and Elizabeth have a presence way past that as they were after all monarchs and never at one point left to live a quiet life and were no longer chronicled - so in that way they age before our eyes. And with that age you see the infidelity issue get worse, together with Edward’s greater promotion of Gloucester, his drinking, eating etc issues and it starts painting a sad image into my mind of like idk a love that at one point stopped being what it once was and could never again be - like the embers burning out? This turns the what could have been a obbsessive unhealthiness borne from passion into another caused by disillusionment? I don’t put too much stock into this, personally I feel the change in Edward was caused by other external factors and not Elizabeth herself eg Warwick and Clarence’s betrayals and deaths, the massive burden of fixing the previous administration’s mess etc. Nevertheless, Elizabeth on her own did not seem to be enough to drag him out of it and prevent some of his unhealthy habits. I do realise it’s a bit too much to ask for though.

Nevertheless, I do see them as soulmates, she seemed like one of the only people who could keep up with him in will and wit (though Jane Shore seemed quite a competitor in this regard) I’m not the type of person who thinks Edward was dominated by his lust, and I think based on that venetian letter (you know the Ziglio one XD) and the fact that it said that Edward loved her for a long time before marrying her, it was clearly a decision from the heart not the *ahem* codpiece. Also a part of the soulmate/star-crossed trope is the whole ‘they defied all odds, they withstood opposition’, and Liz and Big Ed are famously that. I would totally read fic for this but surprisingly there aren’t many! I honestly don’t know how come?? Like yes they do appear in a lot of histfics and the like, but apart from TWQ they are never the central focus, and even there we don’t get enough of them (which really irritates me). Some write me some!! I am intrigued by the pairing but extremely picky when it comes to how they are written because I have particular headcanons which I am fairly wedded to but do not expect they will be abided by. More in the pragraph below.

The Ship:

I absolutely can not stand portrayals of Elizabeth Woodville as a golddigger, much less some Marilyn Monroe type of bimbo. We know the type of beauty she had... a chronicler called her an excellent but solemn (or sthing like that) beauty where York in his letters to her for the marriage of Sir Hugh complemented her deep sorrowful look or such. She was a pious, economical woman who took her queenship extremely seriously and led a cultivated court, patronised literature and may have also written a poem herself (you know the one about Venus we spoke about). She was years older than Edward and on top of that a widow with two children of her own. I want to see that dynamic! I want to especially see how she drew Edward away from Warwick’s influences in order to put him on the path he was angling for: the statute of livery 1463 and the new sumptuary laws (that most famously restricted the length of piked shoes to 3 inches hhh) are very indicative of a king who (even before meeting her) wanted to install a strong centralised monarchy with a monopoly on violence and its laws. Not because of some rapaciousness on her part but because her and her family believed in him, experienced the exequies of war and wanted to put a stop to it. I want her to love Edward for putting an end to people like Warwick who caused all her family’s (and the gentry class as a whole) misfortunes and struggles, and in a way feel like she provided him with not only a circle of people who would help him realise this but also with a sort of family to soften the personal blow that he felt when part of his birth family betrayed him. I love the father-in-law becomes surrogate father trope (as I think you can tell) and I like to see Earl Rivers as that for him, hell you can take it even further and make Jacquetta as some sort of mother-figure for him as opposed to Cecily who apparently scorned the marriage and at that time seemed to side more heavily with George. I like to think under her influence she empowered him to act more ruthlessly in pursuit of his goal, but at the same time I think that while certain things were good in the long-term eg Clarence’s execution, (maybe Desmond’s??) they may have had a toll on the relationship later on. I headcanon Elizabeth as tragically hardened by the loss of her brother and father at Edgecoat and I think that may also have thrown a bit of a wrench into their love, given how she was faced with the violent consequences of being queen and afterwards with how Warwick and co. went free and she lost her chance of vengeance. I don’t think they were ever out of love though, especially judging by how she continued to be pregnant up to 3 years short of his death and the absolute trust he put in her. But I headcanon his attachment to Jane Shore as him seeking the light-hearted wit and lively banter that Elizabeth slowly started losing as the years went on and she became less vivacious and a tad more calculating and icy. I headcanon them as having a rift when it came to dealing with problems: she would keep on with her ministrations whereas he would just want to engage in escapisms. But the thing with the infidelity is that one should keep in mind that during that period relations would have to stop once the woman started showing, so Edward having affairs should not be read into too much tbh, perhaps it was more a type of addiction on his part like drinking and eating was - like all part of an excessive Epicureanism which he adopted to relieve himself of his stresses and sorrows (and boy were there many!), so not something that necessarily indicated he grew tired of her or whatever. Maybe she understood that and that’s why she didn’t make a fuss? But then again, the fact that there wasn’t complete faithfulness remains a personal impediment for me with this ship :// that’s just me personally.

Also the discussion we had about Mélusine and the alchemical elements and Edward IV’s own interest in such (which was used as ammunition for George when he accused Edward of engaging in dark arts to corrupt his subjects XD... yes I know très ironique)... made me headcanon him and Elizabeth bonding over this, and perhaps seeing their union as somewhat quite mystical. It would be something so interesting to explore and I think it’s a real shame that people nowadays recoil everytime they hear the word ‘Woodville’ and ‘Mélusine’ put together which is a shame because when handled delicately it could turn into something beautiful and it was certainly not a PG invention!

Also... those two have some bitchin’ fannart!

So yes, this was quite the stream of consciousness... but I do have a lot of thoughts for this couple! They were my OTP for the longest time after all.

[reliciron]

Decided to write out the important bit of my jedi consular’s backstory. 

It should be noted that he doesn’t technically want to die, he’s just very scared of his master and doesn’t see any way to escape. 

That said, at the end of the day he does try (and fail) to die by throwing himself at some jedi, so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that.

Go to the northern reaches of Brentaal IV. There you will find a small Jedi temple: the place where Grand Master Satele Shan first trained.

It has enjoyed relative anonymity since, but this must change.

Infiltrate the temple. Slaughter everyone within. Show the Jedi that nothing is safe from the Sith.

Do this, my clever acolyte, and I will raise you from the shadows.

You will be my apprentice.

Dust kicks up as he races across the northern plateaus on his stolen speeder bike. It will take hours to track properly, with the damage he left behind. But by then he’ll have either completed his mission…

Or he’d be dead.

He clenches his teeth.

She was mad. She HAD to be.

No.

He shakes his head.

No. His master is many things, but not mad.

Just calculating. And he may be a mere acolyte, but he hadn’t survived this long without learning some of the game.

If her words were true, the Sith would send a platoon, or at least a full squad. Make a show of the massacre to demoralize the Republic and Jedi Order both.

One lone acolyte would not be enough to guarantee victory. Indeed, it was very likely that he would not survive the attempt at all, even with 6 years of careful training from his master.

He’d been her faithful servant. Her knife in the dark. She’d liberated him from Rattatak and kindly taken him under her wing as a boy. He’d learned to wear the Force like a shroud. Hide himself from sight and strike from the shadows.

She gave the word, and he carried out the sentence. A name, a picture, a place, and they’d be dead in a matter of days.

He couldn’t be her apprentice. No matter his talent, he was Rattataki. And as far as the anyone else knew, he didn’t exist.

He KNEW this. She’d said it so many times. But now she was offering it to him.

It wasn’t real.

And the impossibility of the task only affirmed his suspicions.

He was not MEANT to succeed.

He did not exist, yet as more Sith and Imperials fell before him it became harder and harder to keep his existence secret. And she would never let him go, not when he knew so much of her secrets.

He was a liability now. One she hoped would take care of itself in a pointless attack on a temple.

He should run. He SHOULD, but he CAN’T.

His throat goes tight and he slows down a bit as the temple’s coordinates loom on the navigation computer.

He’d tried to run once, before he’d truly understood how much of a PRIVILEGE it was to have been chosen by his mistress. He couldn’t recall the ‘how’s and ‘why’s anymore, but he remembered the punishment had gone on for well over a week.

Run and I’ll find you, little one. And I will not be so merciful the next time.

If he tries to abandon his duty, he’d die all the same, but she’d make sure to make it hurt. At least the Jedi would make it quick.

Yes.

If its one thing the soft-hearted fools abhorred, it was making a being suffer.

There was no way out for him, but an end by their sabers would be better than by her hand.

–

It had been laughably easy to enter the temple. The roomy interior had given him plenty of space to cloak himself and slip through without being noticed by the guardians. He’d made it all the way into the empty training room, where he’d entered a vent near the ceiling and used it to gain access to the meeting room.

Inside there were a handful of masters and their attending padawans, likely a collection of the strongest jedi in the temple. An incredibly foolish target.

But that was the point, wasn’t it.

He could have killed a great many by now. Picked off padawans one by one has he slithered through the building. Had he actually believed the lie his master had told him, he would have.

But he didn’t. And now these Jedi were his best chance for a swift end.

As he grips his lightsaber, he wonders, not for the first time, what his mother would have thought of him. He didn’t remember her, or much of Rattatak for that matter. But he hoped he’d grown to be a strong son, one who might have made her proud, had things been different.

He muffles the sound of the grate being opened, curls his toes over the edge of the vent frame, and leaps.

–

The creature had seemed to come from thin air.

A calm discussion with his fellow masters about possible changes to the curriculum one minute, and a whirl of dark robes and red light the next.

By the time he and the others managed to pull their lightsabers, 3 padawans lay crumpled on the floor with the attacker ready to strike again.

The battle had been vicious.

Master Evren nearly had a leg taken off, and Knight Balrus fell in a burst of lightning before Ixal finally got in under its guard to slice up through it’s hood.

It screamed, bringing its saber up in mindless defense as it clutched its smoking face, but it was a futile effort. He followed through, ducking its arm and spinning around behind to carve his saber deep across it’s back.

It folded like a house of cards, crashing to the floor in a heap of dark robes.

Not dead, but also not getting up any time soon.

Healers and medical droids are called, and to everyone’s relief no one was killed. But it still left them with a host of very injured jedi, and a deeply wounded assailant who should have never made it this far.

–

Once the others have been seen to, he and the few other jedi of rank gather in the assassin’s room.

The scans the droids provided them with were both enlightening… and disturbing.

A juvenile rattataki male, approximately16 years of age. Signs of extensive, long-term electrical trauma, 18 healed fractures, and general malnutrition. And that was all underneath the damage he himself had caused in the battle. Evidently he’d blinded the man - no, boy - in one eye, and his final strike had severed his spine. He was now paralyzed from the waist down.

Stars above.

It’s about an hour more before the boy comes to, numbed heavily around his injuries but not sedated.

They needed to speak with him, and it absolutely could not wait.

Even so, none of them are prepared for the tsunami of terror that all but knocks them off their feet.

He chokes and tugs desperately at his restraints, every inch a panicked child despite the destruction he’d wrought only a few hours ago.

It makes his stomach roil to know he’d not fought a man, but a boy.

“Peace, young one,” he says softly. And the single remaining eye fixes upon him.

A muscle jumps in the rattataki’s jaw before his face goes eerily blank, at odds with the fear still saturating the Force around them.

“My name is Master Ixal. I’m afraid you’ve committed some rather serious crimes here today, but I would like to talk, if you wouldn’t mind.” When all the boy does is stare at him, he smiles, “May I ask your name?”

There’s a long stretch of silence before the answer.

“Acolyte.”

His accent is Kaas-ian, but given that he’s an alien, there’s a very good chance that he was a slave.

“Is that your name, or the one you were given?”

He blinks, as if trying to parse the meaning.

“Did you ever have a different name?”

Something small and fragile flickers across the part of his face that is still visible.

“…. Faun.”

He sighs. Good. Not so far gone that he won’t answer questions entirely, “Faun then. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

“My master sent me.”

A sith then. Were they truly so desperate as to use children?

“They sent you to attack us?”

His eye closes and he seems resigned.

“Yes.”

“Who sent you? Are there more coming? Why is the temple being targ-?”

“It doesn’t matter, kill me and be done with it.”

“What-?”

“I killed your people and infiltrated your temple, is that not enough?!”

He seems desperate then, like a frightened animal, and the fear redoubles in the Force.

“Easy now,” he assures, “You killed no one, all those who were injured survived.” He frowns, “And you will not die for it. We certainly won’t be letting you go, but you will live and be treated fairly. But I can promise you, the more you help us now, the easier things will go for you in the future.”

Instead of being assured, the young man barks a harsh, bitter laugh.

“What, future?! I failed to die! Now my master will come for me to correct my failure!” He positively whimpers and shrinks in on himself, “She’ll be so angry! She’ll make it hurt! Why can’t you just kill me!”

They’re all taken aback by the outburst, but as his words start to sink in a sick feeling begins to settle in to Ixal’s stomach.

“What do you mean you ‘failed to die’?”

“You think I am a fool?!” he spits. “What else am I to believe when she gives me such an impossible task and promises rewards I knew could never be!” He sags onto the hospital bed. “I do not exist. She cannot allow me to be tied to her, and I was no longer worth the risk.”

He truly feared this master of his so much that he would willingly undertake a suicide mission? Stars above, what had this woman done to him?!

He shakes his head. They knew the why now, but not the how.

“How did you manage to make it all the way into the meeting room? You would have had to pass several guardians.”

The boy huffs, voice still raw and wavering, but evening out as they entered more neutral territory. “Your security is poor and my master trained me well. I cloaked myself in the Force, muffled my presence, and walked right passed them.”

A hint of pride threads through the fear in the air, but already a few of their number have left, unable to take such overpowering emotions.

Cloaking is a rare gift. That this young man is capable of doing so, well enough to fool full fledged jedi, is both dangerous and intriguing. Between that, his combat ability, and the hyper-projection of his emotions, they were dealing with a powerful force user, no matter his age.

It only occurs to him now that the young rattataki could have likely killed dozens of padawans and younglings before being discovered.

But he didn’t.

An idea starts to form but he’d need to consult his fellow masters first.

“Thank you, Faun, you’ve been very helpful. Please rest for now. We will speak again later.”

The boy looks wary as they leave, but more than likely the sedatives are already being administered through his drip. He won’t be conscious for much longer.

–

The discussion is heated, with several knights and masters arguing against it, but after consulting the Jedi Council, they finally come to an agreement.

They would attempt to rehabilitate Faun.

Turning a sith was notoriously difficult, but his youth would work in their favor.

The skills of an assassin, Force-cloaking especially, where nearly impossible to teach to jedi. Too close to the dark side for many to want to risk learning. But as much as they may wish otherwise, sometimes those skills were needed, and if they could earn Faun’s loyalty they’d have an invaluable ally.

It would be a long and delicate process. Mind healers would be needed to try and break the chains his master had instilled in his mind, and the physical reconstruction and recovery would be just as taxing.

There was no guarantee that it would work at all, but he genuinely believed it was worth a try.

The poor boy had been through so much. With a bit of work they might give him a second chance at a fulfilling life.

Dark-side or no, the Force practically hummed around him in a way Ixal had not seen since young Satele. He didn’t know what part this young man might play, but he had a feeling he may yet prove essential in the future.

This would not be the end the young man had sought, but a new beginning.

======

From there it takes a long time to deprogram him, and they need to install several internal cybernetic bypasses in his spine to get around the damage. At the end of it, he’s got a pretty serious scar that runs from right shoulder to left hip, a few numb patches on his lower back, and his eye is still blinded. He learns to hide his accent, too. And he’s somewhere in his late 20s-early 30s by the time the game starts.

He was sent to Tython as a fresh start for his padawan training, since no one there would know who he was, aside from the Council.

His companions don’t find out until they’re fighting the First Son and Syo tells them to try and get them to leave or turn on Faun. Zenith almost does leave afterwards, but after a long discussion they all stick with him.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (Part 9)

A/n: Lol there's like... the most minor gayness between reader and Jeremiah in this part and it means nothing but I'm living for Jeremiah's sexual awakening behind both Wayne brothers just like SEND ME HELP IVE BUSTED A LUNG

Word Count: 4700+

Playlist

Masterlist

"We're going to your uncle's diner?"

"Yes," Jerome confirmed for maybe the hundreth time. He was starting to get irritated.

"Your mother's brother?" Y/n continued, his voice rising into near hysterics.

Jerome groaned, turning to face the other boy. "What is confusing you?"

Y/n hesitated, his eyes roaming the streets. He hadn't been free in Gotham for a long time. The idea that someone he knew - anyone he knew - could pop up at any time gave him anxiety. "I mean, isn't this one of the many people that sat around and beat you up all the time? What could you want from him?"

Rolling his head back and forth, Jerome tried to reel in his patience. "I need information. You stay here and make sure I don't die okay? I don't trust you not to kill the old guy, and he can't die yet."

Y/n glared at the diner but nodded. As Jerome walked away, Y/n caught his arm and pulled him closer into a kiss. Jerome tensed before relaxing and nearly melting into him. Y/n smiled as he leaned away. "You better haunt me if you die in there."

Jerome grinned. "What else would I spend my ghost time doing?" He winked before leaving Y/n alone, entering the shop. Y/n stayed outside as he'd been told to, keeping his eyes on what was happening inside. He saw police coming and tensed, but Jerome had the gun out and was ducking under the counter in no time, not coming out again until they were gone. Things seemed to be going well as they moved to the back, only to return quickly with bowls of soup. Jerome began eating and they started talking again. It all seemed to be chill and casual... maybe Jerome's uncle wasn't as bad as he had seemed.

Just as Y/n had that thought, he saw the big man approaching the pair in the booth from behind. Y/n was running immediately. He needed a weapon, and by the looks of the man who's muscles were defined even from this distanced, he'd need something durable. He ran to the back door- something he'd noticed as they approached the diner before- and looked for something thick. He saw a pan and hefted it a second before nodding, also reaching over to grab a knife. With his two weapons, he moved toward the main room just in time to hear Jerome scream. He picked up his pace, peeking around. Then he was close enough to hear what the distance voices were saying.

The uncle was standing, a bowl of soup in his hand. "And the hot one is for you!" He slipped it in the microwave, heating the green liquid again. Y/n could smell the fumes of half burned soup- it was being far too overheated. Y/n felt sick. These were the kind of men Jerome grew up with? If his uncle was this bad, how bad was his mom?

Y/n crept carefully, moving quietly as he'd learned to in his time trying to stay away from Jameson in Gotham before the beatings had been stopped. He sprung up, slamming the pot across the big man's head and then brandishing his knife just as the uncle began to move closer, the heated bowl of soup in his hand and a sick excitement in his eyes. "Now this can go two ways," Y/n began. He moved between the big man- who had stumbled away - and Jerome, who was on the ground and gasping in relief only a moment before he was rejuvenated and standing next to the armed boy. "You can stop underestimating us and tell the man what he wants to know, or you can get a few more jabs in before we kill you both and go on our merry way.

Jerome cackled. "That's my boy!" His arm went around Y/n, almost knocking away his concentration. "You see boys, I'm not as easy as I used to be to push around." Jerome kissed Y/n's cheek and his uncle recoiled. The big man rose his eyebrows but seemed otherwise unaffected. Y/n wondered if there really were people that didn't mind two men being romantic with each other. He seemed surprised but otherwise chill. It was interesting.

Before anything else could happen, the door busted open. Y/n almost dropped his knife.

Bruce Wayne was standing in the doorway, his face twisted with emotion as he made an obvious effort to not look at Y/n, his eyes focusing on the big man. He carried a pole that went around the man's neck and the two began to struggle as the big man was obviously much stronger but Bruce seemed more than capable of handling himself as he threw his weight. As the two distracted each other, Jerome snagged a gun that had landed on the ground at some point. Y/n hadn't noticed it in the chaos, but he recognized it now as the gun Jerome had been carrying when the police had been around before. Jerome turned to his uncle, pointing the gun at the man. "Now we have some hot soup here..." Jerome grinned. "But, as I am a good host, we do have better options than microwaved, burned soup." He strutted off, returning with a bottle of bleach. "Open wide, Unc!"

"STOP! STOP STOP!" The man screamed as Jerome brought the bottle close to his mouth. "I'll tell you what you want to know." Jerome grinned, lowering the bottle. Y/n rose an eyebrow. "She picked St. Ignatius! The school is St. Ignatius."

"Got it." Jerome paused and looked over at Y/n who was already handing over a small piece of paper and pen he'd seen on the counter- probably what Jerome's uncle used to take orders. "Lost it," he relented, taking the paper from Y/n and handing it to his uncle. "Write it down." The older man did just that as Bruce and the big man struggled in the background. Y/n tried not to notice them too much, but as each second passed, it got harder for him to stand idly by and do nothing. He didn't care about a lot of people, but he did care about Bruce and after losing Harley... "Thanks," Jerome remarked in an overly cheery way as his uncle handed him the paper. It's been quite a visit, Uncle Zach." Ah so that was the asshole's name. "You really brought back the utter helplessness of childhood." Jerome began walking away and Y/n almost stopped him. "Well, see you around-" He turned back to Zach, hefting the gun. "Well, except the opposite." The gun went off and red splattered against Y/n's clothes and the counter. "Oh red's a good color on you," Jerome complimented.

Y/n grinned. "Maybe I oughtta wear it more often then."

Attention was turned to Bruce and the big man finally as the younger boy was aggressively pinned to the counter. Jerome clapped, getting the both of them to look at the other two. Bruce's eyes fell to the dead man now on the floor, his face flecking with regret. "Billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, coming to my rescue," Jerome drawled, as if considering the words. "Now, I did not see that one coming." He sighed, half laughing. "You know, with uncle Zach, the beatings never stopped. But nobody ever helped me." It got very quiet as Y/n looked at Jerome, his face twisted with concern. His eyes fell to the still untouched bowl of hot soup. He imagined how scared Jerome must have been. Today. Back then. Helpless and at the mercy of people who hated him for no reason. "Ever," the red head continued. Y/n looked over and reached out, his fingers almost intertwining with Jerome's... but the moment felt too real. Too serious. He felt like if he did something like that in a moment like this, it would mean something more than escaping Arkham or sharing jokes or killing people together. Comforting each other in genuine situations was a boyfriend thing to do. Was a love thing to feel. Was Y/n anything to Jerome but an easy way to pass time? He thought to Oswald, who considered friends useless. Who preferred to have lackies to companions, and who kept his enemies closest because he had to make sure they didn't betray him. Was Y/n just a follower Jerome could depend on to keep him out of bad situations? "It makes me wonder..." Jerome kept going, his voice low and slow. "What's wrong with you?" He began cackling, the mood breaking, causing Y/n to jump in surprise. "You know anything funnier than you saving my life?" Y/n perked up, suddenly panicked but not sure what to do. He couldn't handle seeing his brother die. "Is if I saved yours." He rose the gun, pointing it to the big man.

Y/n was surprised, but before anything could happen, Bruce yelled out a, "No!" Pathetic.

Jerome paused, humming in thought. "No," he agreed. "What would be funnier is if you were choked to death by the guy you saved me from. Yeah, yeah we'll do that instead." The big man hesitated but Jerome motioned him to continue. "Do your thing."

Y/n glared at the ground for a second before suddenly making up his mind, eyes finding the back of the man's head and aimin g before throwing the knife he was still holding. To probably everyone in the room's shock, the knife stuck and the man went down. "NO!" Bruce screamed.

Jerome looked back at Y/n, intrigued. "I didn't know you could do that."

"Neither did I," Y/n replied, shrugging. Oswald had people teach Y/n a few tricks here or there but Y/n hadn't really picked up on any of them. He had to be angry or protecting someone he cared about to kill someone. He wasn't driven enough when he was calm. His training had kicked in easily now, though.

"What did you do?" The boys looked over to Bruce, who looked beside himself. "Why did you do that, Y/n? That doesn't make you any better than Jerome!"

Y/n scoffed, stepping forward as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm NOT any better than Jerome, Bruce."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't believe that. You're a good person Y/n. It wasn't until you started to talk to these creeps that that changed. Penguin and Jerome and-" Bruce scoffed. "What are you doing?"

"Penguin," Y/n mused, rolling the name in his mouth. He thought back to his conversation with Harley about nicknames. Harley. "You know, I'm not Y/n anymore Bruce you're right. Y/n painted pictures and made friends and took all the shit everyone gave him with a smile. I'm stronger now. BETTER now." Y/n scoffed. "You know Bruce, tell everyone you know. Y/n Wayne is dead." He stood maybe a foot away from Bruce, his smile growing. "Harley Quinn is here instead." He winked, moving to the side. Bruce gasped as he looked over to see Jerome pointing a gun at him. "And that's our exit." Jerome looked at Y/n- at Harley - seeming to be looking for the go ahead to kill Bruce. Y/n shook his head. Jerome seemed disappointed but followed after Y/n anyway, moving slowly out of the room.

"Y/N STOP!" Bruce screamed, desperate to save his brother. Sure that he would find some remnant of who he used to be. "Y/N!" Both boys disappeared and the second they were outside, they started running. Bruce tried to take off after them but Jerome shot behind him, just well enough to slow Bruce down so they could get away. They were gone too fast, and Bruce lost them. The boy stood there, running his hands through his hair. "Fuck," he whispered.

-

They got clothes, picked up Jervis, and then they were on their way. They went to St. Ignatius, wired up the dude in charge after they got their information, and were off again.

Harley tried to be patient. He really did. But even Jervis and Crane seemed to know more than he did. At the brunch Jerome was very vague, and didn't give even a little lee way of information to the others, giving little run arounds to allude to information Jervis and Crane knew. It was very frustrating.

"So," Oswald began at one point when Jerome was talking to Jervis about... something. "Harley?"

He smiled, happy for the distraction. "Harley," he confirmed. "You go by Penguin. Ed has that whole Riddler schtick." Harley shrugged. "Firefly," he continued to list. "Mr. Freeze."

Oswald nodded. "I see what you mean." He gave a small smile. "So you're officially one of us now?"

"I kill people and everything." The men smiled at each other before giggling softly.

Oswald calmed, still smiling but more curious than amused now. "And... you and Jerome?"

Harley was suddenly very interested in his food. "What about it?"

Oswald seemed to sense his reluctance to talk about the subject at hand, but kept pushing. "Are you two together?"

A soft sigh escaped Harley just then as he looked away, setting down his food and silverware quietly. He pursed his lips, frowning. "I don't know." He looked at Jervis and Jonathan. "I don't even know what's going on here. He seems to trust them more than me, and seems totally unhinged. He's distracted and uninterested, which is fine because he seems really focused on something. And I mean he brought me along..." Harley shrugged. "I just feel like, I don't know-" he shrugged hopelessly.

"You're an extra piece to a complete puzzle?" Oswald offered, his expression full of understanding.

Harley's expression became pained. "Yeah."

Oswald reached over, patting Harley on the shoulder. "Love is an irritating, fickle thing Y/n- Harley." Both smiled. "You're one of the few people I trust. If you need anything, I'll be there."

"Likewise," Harley returned. "Of course." Oswald's eyes moved past him, his expression changing to surprise. "What?" Harley asked as he looked back, just in time to see Jerome turn away sharply, as if being caught doing something and trying to hide it. Harley looked back, confusion written all over his face.

Oswald was grinning, but this look was full of mischief instead of sincerity. "My dear Harley, would you like to see just how much your precious little redhead cares about you?"

Harley rose an eyebrow. "Well, you know me Oswald. Have I ever turned down the opportunity for information?" Oswald's smile only grew.

“He was glaring at me,” Oswald announced victoriously.

"He was glaring at you?"

Oswald rolled his eyes. "I see you haven't gotten over your habit to repeat when you're feeling dubious." Harley's mouth snapped shut. He hadn't realized that he asked questions repetitively when he was unsure of the answer, but as he thought back- yeah. That tracks. "Before you ask, it's significant because we were being affectionate and Jerome glared at me. He has no other reason to be mad at from the brunch, and if he'd been mad at me beforehand he would have tried to kill me or not invited me to begin with."

Harley nodded along slowly. "So your solution to him ignoring me is to... make him jealous?" Oswald nodded. "Won't that just get him more mad?" Oswald nodded again, as if that was the point. Harley frowned. "Getting Jerome mad has never been a good idea."

Oswald rolled his eyes. "If he gets possessive, he cares for you some way or another. If he doesn't... then you know." His excitement died down and Harley swallowed.

Well. Here goes nothing.

-

The worst idea probably ever had by anyone occurred to Harley the second he lay eyes on who he'd been told was a man named Xander Wild. Harley might not have known his real name, but the man's identity was clear. After all, when you look exactly like Jerome Valeska himself, who could you be other than the famous younger brother Harley had heard about only one other time.

Harley had been dragged along when Jervis had been tittering about how Jerome had an errand for them. They had convinced Harley to go when they said that if they didn't work quickly, Jerome might actually be in danger.

So then here they were, strutting around the tunnels of some maze chasing down the not-Xander-Wild in favor of finding Jerome. It was easy once they got the blonde. She tracked down not only one redhead they sought after, but both of them. First Jerome, then-

"Hello brother." Jonathan, Harley, and Jervis stood behind Jeremiah until Jerome sent the other two away to take care of Harvey and Jim. Harley sat here, leaning against the wall and listening to the exchange between the twins. The non-redhead rose his eyebrows, getting more and more shocked as it went on. The revelation that Jeremiah had manipulated their whole family because he was paranoid about Jerome...

"So you're saying you turned your whole family against your brother because you were afraid of what he might become?" Jeremiah looked at Harley and his face relaxed. He stuttered physically, almost as if he was going to step closer to him but then thought better of the action. "You realize that when they thought he was the problem child or whatever, they thought the solution was just beating the shit out of him. And not just with fists- that Uncle Zach of yours has a colorful way with skin and heated assorted soups." Jeremiah looked away. "If you were afraid of Jerome's insanity that didn't yet exist, you doomed yourself. People deserve love when they're struggling. By putting him through more suffering all you did was create who he is now."

"Don't give him all the credit," Jerome whined. "I have added some color to his original recipe."

Harley hummed, moving to Jeremiah's side. His finger brushed against the back of his shoulders, his arm resting across when he reached the end. Harley giggled. "He's kind of cute though. Makes sense why people believe him so much-" he raised his free hand, squishing Jeremiah's face. "Little puppy couldn't do any wrong, eh?" He giggled again, stepping away from him when Jerome donned an odd expression, shifting, obviously uncomfortable at watching Harley... flirt with Jeremiah. It became clear when Harley winked that that's what it was indeed.

The party was crashed when Gordon and Bullock showed up, guns at the ready. Jerome attempted a bluff but didn't pull it off, and soon enough they were all running for their lives, Jeremiah left behind. There was a car they'd gotten here in- they were all in it again. They'd gotten Jerome, but it seemed to have been marked a failure that they didn't manage to grab Jeremiah as well. Jerome seemed far more bothered by something else though. "Why were you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Harley asked lightly, eyes on the outside world.

Jerome made a frustrated half grunting noise. "With Jeremiah."

Harley didn't even look over. "Oh, him?" Harley shrugged. "Just having some fun."

Jerome was quiet for a long time. For far too long a time actually, as he was never one to be quiet for very long if ever. Even for a normal person it was considered quite a stretch of silence; Jervis' knuckles whitened on the wheel as he drove under the weight of the tension. It was when they were finally back to their little hideout that Jerome spoke again- only once the two men were in private. "Am I not enough fun for you?" He was smiling, advancing in an almost sexual way. It was strained though- he was obviously upset.

Harley was unsure how to go about this. "Jerome, dear, what am I to you?"

That seemed to confuse the redhead even more. "What?"

"Am I your boyfriend?" Harley offered, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms.

Jerome scoffed. "Why would you wanna be something like that? So serious and boring. I'd prefer-"

"Friends?" Harley tried again, tilting his head. Tilting his head back and forth, Jerome considered. Harley scoffed, rolling his eyes at the extended hesitation. Jerome seemed to be confused again. He couldn't figure out why Harley was upset. "You can't be all possessive and expect me to only ever be interested in you if you can't even claim friendship with me, J. You want to say I'm yours? That's a two way street." Harley tapped his nose with a finger. "You don't own me, sweetheart. I'm free market. Don't be jealous that I'm acting with the freedom you've forced on me." Harley chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Makes you look pathetic, honestly." Then he turned and left. He'd felt a weight lift off of his chest, but he could feel Jerome's eyes burning holes into his back every step he got further away.

Jerome started acting weird after that. He got overly clingy with everyone except Harley. That was the only way to explain it. Whether it be putting his arm around Oswald's shoulders or leaning too close to Bridget or laughing too loudly at a joke that it was obvious he didn't even find that funny, or speaking way too loudly every time he named Jervis or Jonathan as his 'best friends' - directing a look he thought was subtle but very much wasn't at Harley - he just got overbearing and over the top. He was over compensating.

One day Oswald mumbled, "So he took the breakup hard I assume."

Harley scoffed. "What breakup? He won't even call me his friend, let alone his boyfriend." Harley rolled his eyes. "He's adorable but getting on my nerves." Harley smiled as he pretended to check his nails. He was thriving off the chaos he was creating, relishing how much of a fool Jerome was making of himself. Perhaps he shouldn't have been loving making someone he cared about suffer so much but fuck it. He did. Maybe he was some kind of sadist now. Maybe he just had a lower tolerance and a more eager thirst for revenge. Maybe he was just pettier nowadays. Whatever it was, it didn't bother him as much as it would have in the past.

Definitely not enough to back off or try to apologize and make peace.

People started to try and get the two back together as Jerome got even more on edge. Whether the request was to calm him down or take the reins on the whole affection thing or just to fuck him so he'd chill, Y/n was getting off on how even the other villains seemed to be struggling to handle Jerome acting like a child who's toy had been taken away. Well, Harley wasn't a toy and he wasn't an accessory. He was tired of being treated as such. Children who throw fits when told no don't get rewards. Men who own up to their feelings on even a minute level? They might get what they want if they ask really nicely. Jerome was taking the child route. Harley was too stubborn to give in.

It was better when Jerome was distracted. Whether it was shooting people in Russian Roulette until the gun went off or kidnapping powerful people and spraying them with some gas he was trying to create - obviously for Jeremiah, if his "or one bad spray" comment to his brother back at the end of the maze meant anything - Jerome kept his mind going and his day full. Harley kept his distance. There was no need to set him off too much. He was beginning to understand the thrill of slowly driving someone mad though.

Despite everything, Harley still seemed to be Jerome's go to. Jerome took him on every outing. Bounced ideas off of him. Shared jokes with him. Jerome was beginning to give away little pieces at a time to Harley, just by having him around constantly. He figured out the gas was for Jeremiah pretty early on, and steps were becoming clear as he tried to succeed in that. Harley knew what they were doing when they took out the band in the middle of the public square even before James Gordon had popped up as asked.

Harley had gotten his hands on a metal bat. He had begun to use it like an arm rest, hanging his arms over it limply as it balanced over his shoulders. He was casual as Jerome played his game. Smiling. Laughing. Then Gordon showed up and Jerome made a demand that caught Harley off guard. He had two extra seats in his little line of heads he wanted to blow. Jeremiah- obviously. And...

"Bring me my brother. Bring me Wayne. Bring them to me now."

As the remains of the now dead, headless dude bled out for everyone to see and Gordon ran off to get Jerome what he wanted before he killed more people, Harley moved to Jerome. "Why do you want Bruce?"

Jerome had lowered the microphone so other people couldn't hear him. "What's wrong little Harley?" Jerome tittered. He was grinning, his expression dark.

Harley nearly decked him. "You're going to put my brother in danger, why?"

Jerome tilted his head. "Why do you even care?" He scoffed. "I'm going to kill both of our brothers. People we spent our whole lives sitting in the shadows of. Been chosen second to. Been hated for, because everyone thought they were so much better." He scoffed. "Have you heard what they say about you? How they talk about Bruce and you in comparison?" He shook his head and Harley found he couldn't find words to say to parry this. "Even what they said about you in Arkham." His jaw tightened.

Harley took in a slow breath. "It makes sense that I care about Bruce, Jerome. I was actually close to my brother. We had a god relationship." He shook his head. "That doesn't matter now, but still." He frowned. "But why do you care about what people have to say about me?"

Jerome let out a slow breath through his nose. "Maybe I care about you, Harley." Harley's eyes widened, his lips parting in surprise. Jerome was completely calm and serious, shrugging as if it was the most casual thing. Jerome wasn't ever casual though. He wasn't calm. This was very unlike him. Almost like that first night, on the Ferris Wheel. When Jerome had sat, quiet, just listening to Harley go on and on about shit that shouldn't have mattered to him at all. He rose a hand to brush softly against Harley's cheek." His eyes flickered away. "We'll talk about it later."

Harley stepped back, allowing Jerome to take the stage as Gordon showed up with Bruce and Jeremiah in tow. "Just don't kill him please." Jerome didn't respond, but his smile wavered so Harley knew he heard. Jerome gave Harley Bruce's collar. Harley took it and put it on without hesitation. Bruce caught Harley's wrist as his hands dropped after the collar was on. The brothers made eye contact but Harley didn't hold it long. Bruce held a look of betrayal that shook Harley to his core. If Harley did have a weakness, it had always been that. Bruce used to look up to Harley... no, to Y/n. Now it was all over. Harley had chosen his path. He sighed, shaking his head of the heavy thoughts he'd been thinking and replacing each one instead with images of the real Harley. Harleen Quinzel, bloody and draped and dead. This hardened him again. Games and chaos and romance and familyhood aside: Harley was done being a Wayne. Done being sane and functional. He'd chosen Jerome, and he would continue to choose Jerome because despite everything, for some reason, Jerome was choosing him too. Harley moved to Jerome's side, resting his elbow on Jerome's shoulders. He leaned close, whispering, "Unless you really want to."

Jerome recognize the change in tone immediately. His lips turned up in a grin. His smile was brilliant, and Harley matched it perfectly.

The duo was back, and nothing was going to get between them again.

[iamrealbuilder]

Bill Buchalter interview

Bill Buchalter was a level designer for Sunstorm Interactive. He’s worked on 3 official add-on of Build Engine games: Cryptic Passage for Blood, Suckin’ Grits On Route 66 for Redneck Rampage, Caribbean Life for Duke Nukem 3D. Interview, November 2020: Corentin: Can you introduce yourself?

Bill Buchalter: My name is Bill Buchalter. I’m an avid gamer of all kinds – video games, board games, and especially tabletop RPGs. I’m currently a freelance writer for AAW Games (Adventure A Week Games) writing mini adventures for Dungeons & Dragons 5E. I live outside Indianapolis, IN with my wife Jane, our three kids, and our dog Roxi. When I’m not gaming, I also enjoy music, playing guitar, hiking, and camping.

C: With Sunstorm Interactive, you're credited for level design on Cryptic Passage, Caribbean Life and Route 66. How did you start working with Sunstorm and what do you remember from that time?

BB: In the mid 90’s, maybe around 1995 or 96, I was very into playing Duke Nukem 3D. Like most PC gamers at the time, I had played Castle Wolfenstein and Doom, and Duke Nukem just blew me away. Back in those days, when we played online, we would use a 3rd party program called KALI. You dialed up on your modem, logged onto the internet, and then used KALI as a portal to chat with other gamers and find someone to play with. The KALI software would then allow you to network together over the internet and play PVP matches. It was crude, and the lag could be horrible, but we didn’t know any better at the time and we loved it!

I remember I was in a B. Dalton bookstore in the mall one day (another relic of the 90’s that is long gone!) when I found a book called the “Duke Nukem 3D Level Design Handbook”. I was intrigued, and as I flipped through the pages it talked about a program on the Duke Nukem CD called Build, which allowed you to create your own levels. I had no idea Build existed, let alone how to use it. I bought the book and spent the next couple weeks diving into learning how to use Build. I was hooked!

Making my own maps quickly became an obsession. I would share them with my friends on KALI and I quickly earned a reputation for making user maps. I remember there was a map building competition, but I don’t recall who sponsored it. A guy named Robert Travis won the competition. When I saw his maps, I was blown away! His designs were so much more advanced than mine. He was using tricks I had never thought of to get lighting effects and set moods. I had to reach out to him to pick his brain.

Robert responded and we began talking and quickly figured out that we both lived in Indianapolis. He was working for Sunstorm at the time and invited me to come to their office to discuss level design. I met him there one evening, and he showed me some of the stuff he was working on. We ended up playing Duke all night on Sunstorm’s network with some of the other guys in the office. I was in heaven!

Robert introduced me to Anthony Campiti, the lead producer on Sunstorm’s next project – Cryptic Passage, an add-on for a Build engine game called Blood. They invited me to design some levels for the game and I jumped at the chance. Robert assigned me to design an opera house level and immediately I got pictures in my head of the theater scenes from Interview with a Vampire. I went home and worked furiously on designing the level. I was still rough, but with Robert’s help I tweaked things here and there and slowly learned his techniques. In the end I was really pleased with the level I’d designed. Robert and Anthony were happy too and asked me to design a second map specifically for deathmatch.

The next project Sunstorm was working on was Suckin’ Grits on Route 66, an add-on for another Build engine game called Redneck Rampage. Robert again asked if I’d like to be a part of that team and assigned me to build a truck stop level. Using a lot of the things I’d learned on Cryptic Passage, and the campy feel of the Redneck Rampage game, I had a lot of fun designing that level.

The last project I worked on for Sunstorm was Duke Nukem Caribbean Vacation. By this time Duke’s popularity was beginning to wane, and Quake was taking over. Robert was already starting to experiment and learn how to use the Quake engine. I was a new dad at the time (my first daughter had just been born) so unfortunately, I didn’t have the spare time to devote to learning a new engine. I barely had the time to design my level for Duke Caribbean, but I did manage to finish the casino level for that project. I do recall that Robert ended up going through in the end and changing a lot of the aspects of my level to fit the theme they had in mind. I remember being a bit disappointed and not really feeling like the level was “mine” because of so many of the changes. It was the last project I worked on for Sunstorm.

I kept in touch with Robert and Anthony for a while after that. They were branching out, working on other projects, and even trying to develop their own FPS game that I don’t think ever really got off the ground. Sunstorm was having the most success with their Deer Hunter line of games that at the time were selling well in Wal-Mart. Sadly, I eventually just lost touch with those guys.

I’m sure this is WAY more information than you were wanting (I’m a writer… I can’t help but go off the deep end!) but you dusted off some fond, old memories for me, so I apologize for walking so far down memory lane!

C: I see that you're still making maps, different kind of maps! This makes me wonder if maybe you were involved with W!Zone (a pack of maps for Warcraft 2 released by Sunstorm). Can you tell us a bit about that if possible?

BB: I didn’t have any hand in the W!Zone project for Sunstorm, but I loved the Warcraft series. As was common for many video gamers like me, who had roots in fantasy games like D&D, I played a lot of Warcraft and eventually got sucked into the world of MMOs with Ultima Online, Everquest, and World of Warcraft! If only I had back the time I sunk into those games!

These days I’m exclusively writing and designing for Dungeons and Dragons. I started about ten years ago writing for D&D Organized Play in a campaign called Living Forgotten Realms. I co-authored two adventures for that with my good friend, Michael Pearman, and authored a third adventure on my own. As you know from tracking me down via AAW Games, I’ve now authored six adventures for them, five of which are already published and one that is still in the works but should be released soon.

When I do manage to find time for video games, Diablo III is my game of choice these days. I’m looking forward to Season 22 starting here shortly, and like many others, I’m really hoping for something great with Diablo IV. I’ve been a huge fan of the series since the beginning, and even wrote an entire campaign for D&D 5E that translated the story of Diablo III into Dungeons and Dragons for the players in my home game! Thanks again for the opportunity to share some of this history. It was fun putting it all down and reliving those days!

C: There are two signatures in the Truck Stop level for Route 66. Do you remember anything about that ? There also several levels with no known credit : Fun Park, House of ill Repute, Mystery Dino Cave, Bigfoot Convention.

The signature on the truck stop is Route 66 was a joke! I was the only designer on that one. I just signed it "Billy Joe Jim Bob Buchalter" as a joke for bad redneck name. I wasn't the kind of guy that had to sign my maps the EXACT same way every time. :)

Other than the truck stop, I don't recall designing any other maps for Route 66. I pretty sure none of those you listed below were mine, but I don't recall whose they were.

Finally, here are some final comments Bill made after reading through some forum posts:

Wow, I am really quite humbled that you guys looked so deeply into my work! The fact that you could recognize my build style is pretty cool - I didn't even know I had a style! LOL. The truth be told, the reason you probably had so much trouble telling my levels from Robert's is because he was a big influence on me. I learned a lot from him and incorporated a lot of that into the stuff I built.

Its funny how reading through that thread you linked brought back memories... I remember now that my biggest disappointment from Duke Caribbean was that my only level in the game ended up being a secret level - that some people wouldn't even find it or ever play it. I was actually pretty excited about that level. I was the one that suggested a casino because my folks had retired to Vegas, so I'd been in a lot of the casinos there and had some great ideas for the map. I'd forgotten all about the restaurant I worked into it, and the big fish tanks.

There seems to be some debate about Robert. From what I remember, he was a really good guy. Maybe a bit tough to work for, but only because he really strived for our designs to be the best they could be, and he demanded that of both himself and the other designers. As I said before, I learned early on to accept criticism and critique and not take it personally. It was just Robert doing his job. I'll be the first to admit that I designed better levels thanks to the stuff I learned from Robert.

Someone on the message board made a very astute comment, basically to the effect that "Bill had to have other work out there. Sunstorm wouldn't hire an unproven guy off the street." But truth be told, that's exactly what they did! I hadn't done a single thing before working there. But I think a few things played in my favor. First, I lived in Indy, just 15 minutes from their office, so it was easy for me to go in and work directly with Robert. Second, while I didn't have anything officially published, I did have a disk full of the maps I'd designed on my own, and Robert thought I showed promise. I would design at home a lot, then go into the office a couple times a week and sit with Robert while he critiqued my work and offered advice on how to improve it.

I'll be honest - I'm blown away at the number of people STILL playing these old maps we made so many years ago. I watched a couple YouTube videos of a guy playing and reviewing Duke Caribbean and Blood Cryptic Passage. His high praise of both Full House and the Opera House really made my day. It's nice to know that people enjoyed my work.

_____________________________

Thanks a lot to Bill Buchalter for taking the time to answer these questions! Thanks also for sharing... “Big City” !

A Duke Nukem 3D map he created back in the day before joining with Sunstorm Interactive which was never released before! Screenshot:

Map download:

https://msdn.duke4.net/bigcity.zip

______

External link: Duke4 forum blog megathread: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/11471-blog-interviews-of-build-engine-video-games-developers/page__pid__353013#entry353013 The forum posts Bill read, mentionned above, can be found here: https://forums.duke4.net/topic/9418-duke-caribbean-multiplayer-levels/

[booksbookandmorebooks]

Emma in the night Book review.

Hello there my lovelies, I know its been a little while since I last posted and I have honestly missed doing this so much, so thank you to anyone still here and still supporting me, it means the absolute world. 

As everyone is fully aware 2020 was an awful one but hopefully this year we can aim for a little more positivity and happiness, which is why im back today with a review of my first read of this year and bloody hell did I pick a goodun! So this is my first review for my first book of 2021, enjoy! 

The writing style

One of my favourite things about this book was the different points of view you get to experience and how well they mesh together. For example, we are told very early on that the events Cass is recalling aren’t exactly what you would call accurate and that she has spent months planning and creating this false narrative in an order to manipulate the people she's describing them to (which in itself is something I always get drawn into, the mystery and the need to figure out the characters motives and intentions along side the biggest question of all WHY?! Which is a question will find yourself screaming at the pages) This is made very apparent from the use of the choppy and restrictive way that these scenes are written. Wendy also somehow manages to create a feeling of desperation and messiness whilst having the characters maintaining such a mellow and collected exterior, you know the calm before the storm! Which is such a jarring feeling but one that realty captured and immersed me. A feeling I don’t think is easy to convey through a book format. That in itself is a testament to Wendy’s talent as a writer.

When you compare Cass’ chapters and inner dialogue to detective Abby’s they are so different but when they are looked at side by side they create a very interesting contrast that as I said before works so well, while there is a calm chaos to Cass’ words there is in turn a very structured and balanced feel to Abby's, almost a little detached like you were reading sections cut directly from a police case file. Through this constant difference in characters POVS the story flowed flawlessly and at the perfect pace for a thriller book. 

The climax of the book was not just shocking but also depicted so well in how the writing matched the pace of the reveal, the whole book alternates between cass and Abby with each chapter assigned to one of the characters but towards the end you see that the different POVs are whittled down to single sentences or just a few paragraphs that get shorter and shorter as the tension builds, creating this intense feeling of panic, alert and fear. A method that I swear had my heart physically racing at the end! It was like watching a classic cat and mouse scene play out in my hands/

I also have to mention that very last chapter. I'm sorry for waffling on but please bare with me. For a book based around secrets and deception the ending was that of a perfect one because of its ability to make you feel like after reading it you now share a secret with Cass and you are now part of this extremely messed up story and family, you have this understanding of her whole character and her motives which really brings everything full circle.

The character development:

The character development in this book is one of the best ive seen in awhile with each character being incredibly layered and yet undeniably flawed. Its done in such a human way that it doesn’t feel too far fetched like some thrillers ive read in recent years. Ensuring that all of the emotions tied in with said characters hit 10 times harder than that of those very basic 2 dimensional characters, even the worst people in this story have a difficult background or some type of abusive past, just a catalyst for their behaviours and characteristics and by gradually being informed of them you and being given the bigger picture you almost create an individual relationship and opinion on them ranging from hatred to pity. We get amazing development in every single one even the seemingly unimportant ones because even they are given enough backstory to still secure a connection of some kind with them, something I know we can all appreciate as readers.

The relationships.

The main relationship ill focus on is that of the sisters Cass and Emma. I know there are a lot of relationships in this book that over lap and intertwine in really interesting and sometimes awful ways but as these two characters are the basis of our main storyline it makes a little more sense to focus the attention on them

As a huge plot point throughout the story we see that due to the actions of their mother and her lack of genuine maternal instinct and well, love we see the girls in this constant battle of who can earn their mothers love trust and affections first. Which was so heart breaking to read, through their mothers constant manipulation and abuse we see them fighting the resentment and distance that they know is growing between them and sadly a lot of the time losing because of Mrs. Martins influence and involvement. Its very obvious when reading about their mother that her abuse is based around the fear she feels at the idea of any kind of alliance that the girls could potentially form with each other, god forbid they turn against her and out her as a bad mother! So she decides its easier to create a wedge between the two of them by openly favouring one over the other which unfortunately results in a lot of cruel actions from Emma direct at Cass, creating another toxic relationship and situation for the girls to live in. Although we do get the occasional glimpse at these really beautiful and raw moments of sisterhood and love they share deep down. After seeing so much pain in their story it made these moments just that little bit more special and down right beautiful which was a part that i especially adored.

The themes:

In its relatively short amount of pages this book manages to explore a huge variety of themes from love and obsession to betrayal abuse and manipulation, which lets be honest is everything you want in a good thriller book but usually when a writer takes on this many themes I always find some of them are either touched upon very quickly then dismissed and never revisited or thought of again or done so badly with such a lack of care that its obvious they were just included for the author to be able to say they've hit all the key themes a reader would expect a good thriller to hit. Yet Wendy manages to not only explore all of these and more, but manages to do it well and so subtly you don't notice until you sit back and think about them all which to me just shows a writers real talent.

The psychology:

Another huge part of this book and something I adored were the analysis parts of the book, the in-depth look into narcissism and its effects on the children it surrounds.  We are constantly listening to Detective Abby explaining and exploring the characteristics of the people Cass is talking about in her chapters, exploring the connections and the risk factors associated with such a serious disorder as narcissistic personality disorder. I found this to give the story and writing some real merit, it felt like i was reading a psychology book and getting down to the real science of why characters work the way they do and giving the reader a chance to explore it themselves instead of just being told this person has this which is something I cant stand in books. Instead of investing time and effort into helping guide you to a conclusion or even showing you they just tell you this is how it is and expect that to be enough. So frustrating! None the less, this is something I haven't experienced in another book and a technique I hope to see more of!

Similar books:

When reading this I got very strong sharp objects vibes, the fractured relationship between families, focusing on mother and daughter, a highly manipulative mother, an obsession with public facades and the desperate need to keep up appearances and so much more! If you liked sharp objects you will love this, as Emma in the night has all of the important story beats and intrigue that sharp objects has but more intensity and a faster paced story something I felt was missing when I read SO’S.

Over all I adored this book, as you can probably tell and considering it is my first Wendy walker book I can safely say i have fallen in love! I can promise you now this will not be my last read from her collection. I was captivated by her story and her writing which is why i couldn’t recommend this more!

A very very easy 5/5. 

so that's it, thanks for reading my review, i really hope you enjoyed it! sorry if I waffled at all its been awhile since ive written any reviews and am still getting my bearings with it again so please be patient with me. Hope you have a fab week my lovelies, Bye!

[abdicatedarchive]

Cherish’s House Party || Chase and Savvy

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍: cherish’s house party // 15th of january.

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: chase x savvy ( @savvy-cassidy ).

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒: underage drinking.

𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐒: two cheerleaders playing ping pong and having a good time gossiping

Chase had come over to find beer pong in the kitchen and no one to play with until he saw Savvy. "Savvy, I challenge you to a game of pong" he said as he pulled her over to the table lightly. "That is if you can take the heat" Chase teased as he racked up the cups. Gabrielle was off doing something, and he always enjoyed talking to Savannah. Maybe he would even hear some good gossip out of it. 

Savvy was, as usual, sipping on her drink and mingling around the party. That is, until she was ushered over to the beer pong table. "when have i ever not been able to take the heat?" she scoffed and finished off the drink in her head. "good thing i get better at this game the more i drink," the brunette was already a bit tipsy. 

"I mean that's just the science behind it" said Chase laughing a little, "once you have double vision then you get two cups at once" he joked. Once the cups were racked he grabbed two balls and washed them off in the sink. "Ladies first" he said as he handed her the ping pong balls and went to his side of the table. "So tell me, have you seen anything interesting at the party so far?" Chase asked.

"i think i just try harder when my vision is blurry so i really work twice as hard on trying to have good aim," she commented with a laugh. "how polite of you. not too many of the males around here have manners," she joked. taking the ball she took her shot, seeing it bounce off of one of the rims. "off to a great start. hm. ive been in two bedrooms and neither were occupied at the time i stumbled upon them, i thought that was pretty interesting because that never happens. also, staci poured a full beer down sara's shirt when she told her to be careful not to spill it."

"Well, I was in the cheer chat during the men suck discussion, so I'm on my best behavior" he said sarcastically, he didn't mind. Especially when it came to all the girl's boyfriends being kind of shit. There had been a lot of newly single moments recently on the team in general. He was happy with his girlfriend so hating on men was definitely an option, it kept him in line with his own relationship. Chase caught the ball when it bounced off the rim and held it while he waited for her to throw again. "Well Sara had it coming with that comment, and you never tell someone with a full cup to do anything" he joked, "Staci's got low impulse control that's for sure". "to be fair, i think we all have our moments of sucking so dont worry it isn't just men," although they did seem to have far more moments, but that was beside the point and she didn't feel the need to bring it up. on her next attempt, she sank the ball, "yesss hopefully now im getting somewhere. and you're right on both of those counts. what about you what interesting things have you seen thus far?"  Chase took the ball out of the cup and chugged the whole thing. "Well" he said catching his breath, "I saw one guy constantly changing rooms, so I investigated a little" he said throwing his first ball and it sinking into the cup. "And it turns out he is talking to two girls at this party, and I am 30% sure they are texting each other about this cute mystery guy that they're talking to" Chase said as he tried the other ball and missed. "So I cannot wait to see how that turns out"  Savvy lifted her brows as he took a breath, knowing that whatever he was about to say was probably quite the story. Lifting up the cup, she took out the ball and chugged the liquid, something a good friend of hers had taught her to do well over the years. "dont they know that the circles around here are small? its like we've all slept with each other by association."

"Everybody is sleeping with everybody" said Chase letting a small laugh fall from his lips as he waited for her to throw again. "Speaking of, who is your newest conquest? I have to live vicariously through others now that I'm back with Gabrielle" he said, intrigued to know what the girl was up to. She was one of the most beautiful girls in school, it only made sense that she had guys at her beck and call.  "That is putting it lightly," she chuckled, setting down the now empty cup and setting up her next shot. it circled the rim of the cup a couple of times before finally sinking inside. "conquest? you mean like, have i hooked up with anyone tonight? chase. im a lady. you think i do that kind of thing at a party where there are loads of people who could walk in at any moment?" the girl was rambling playfully before eventually answering, "jet." mostly because everyone likely already knew anyway, it happened at most parties. it was like knowing that someone was going to end up throwing up in the bushes, jet and savvy were going to hook up. "how is that going?"  "A lady never tells" said Chase, knowing full well that there was always Jet. He was hoping there was maybe some variety in there, but Jet was ... well he was kinda it. He was that guy in town for sure. "Oh that's still going?" he said with a smile, "He is super hot, and I heard he's very good in bed. Good for you" Chase replied. Chase chugged the cup and put it to the side before continuing. "It's going great, it's a race right now to see who is the drunker one and who is in charge of getting us home. I'm hoping she's the responsible one tonight, but who is to say at this rate. She could be off taking shots with Juliette right now, and they're both so tiny they'll be on the floor in minutes" the boy said with a laugh.  "We have a nice arrangement. It's very convenient. Plus, I wont have to worry I won't get off, which is definitely a big plus. Like an old, yet reliable habit." Savvy had to laugh at her own description, the alcohol definitely making her sound a little ridiculous. "Maybe someone else will get a turn, i just dont really want it to be when i have beer goggles, because ew." Crinkling her nose at the thought she shook her head. "so who do you think is winning? how drunk are you?"  "I get that, what you know is better than something new. And if it works for you, then why bother with anything else" said Chase, completely understanding. That was something about being with Gabrielle that he loved, it was always good because they had been at it for so long. "She only drinks liquor so probably her, but it has been me before and I am working my hardest at it" said Chase laughing a little, he didn't mind taking care of her at the end of the night. It was fun when she took care of him though. "Knowing her, it's who she is with. She can either drink a lot because she's having a really good time or a really bad time. But if it's in between she won't be drunk at all ... just a little buzzed"  “Something new can be exciting, if it’s the right something new,” Sav pointed out with a shrug. “It is always nice to have a safe option though too.” Because who didn’t like options. “Yikes she could be going pretty hard right now. So that will not be a fun morning for her. “  "It can be, but I am a sucker for the classics. Only one girl out there for me" said Chase with a small smile. He was soft for Gabrielle like that, sure he would be having a great deal more fun as a single guy at this school, but there was nothing that beat to comfort of being loved. "She'll be fine. No matter what I'll make her breakfast, even if I'm about to yak" said the boy. 

“Oh isn’t that just adorable,” to be fair, there was a time when Savvy may have thought the same thing, when she was dating someone she liked to think it would be for the long haul but that was rarely the case. “Breakfast too? Damn you really are one of the good ones.”  "Yeah the perks of her family taking me in, we get to spend every morning together no matter what rooms we sleep in" said Chase with a proud smile. He also treated her very well, just going above and beyond whenever he could. It made him feel like he was repaying a debt to her family. "What do your mornings with Jet look like? Or is it purely a party affair?" he asked, curious to know more.  “That is a pretty unique situation so I guess you should enjoy it as long as possible because you lucked out there. Do they let you stay in the same room though?” Sav was glad that her friend was happy though it seemed to be going well and that’s what was most important. Her brows raised at his question “we usually have each other for breakfast,” she answered as if it was nonchalant. “And then go out for pancakes because were fucking starving.”  "Yeah, I am milking it as much as physically possible" said Chase in all earnesty. He was certain they would not separate for college, but if they didn't get into the right schools then they would be screwed. Having a child together, even though it was a secret bonded them past the usual high school relationship, but it was hard to explain that to anyone because he couldn't. "That's a hearty breakfast, lots of vitamin d in that one" Chase joked, proud of himself for that one. "Pancakes is always a good dessert after a hearty breakfast"  “I can’t say that I blame you, I think most people would do the same thing. But hey im glad that it works out for you and you’re both happy with it, that’s honestly all that matters,” the girl nodded with a shrug. She couldn’t help but chuckle, “vitamin d, good joke. Best of the night so far. But agreed pancakes are the best. A nice way to refuel.”  "You can tell who at this school has a major vitamin d deficiency" said Chase with a small chuckle as well. There were a lot of people who just needed some kind of release, any kind. Whether it was a boxing class or getting laid, people needed to do something. 

Savvy couldn’t help but chuckle and nod in agreement, “you are correct about that, I wish them all the best, honestly. Might help some of their piss poor attitudes.” "I think that might be our big ticket to victory this cheer season" said Chase feeling the alcohol start to hit him. He hated to admit it, but a lot like his girlfriend he was a light weight. 

"everyone getting laid? you might be on to something with that," she chuckled and nodded in agreement, "you down for the count on this game, or what? i can already see your eyes getting glassy, you're sucha lightweight," she teased him.  "I did some shots earlier, but I think it's all kicking in now" said Chase, the room was a little spinny. "All I am is bone and muscle, there's nothing to absorb the alcohol" he said to defend himself, but it was the honest reason he couldn't handle too much to drink.

[judgement-free-sideblog]

The enemy of love is the truth

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader

Summary: They were happy just as friends, but one morning the call from an old trauma may change everything.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, history of drug use, mental health issues, cursing, angst, a little smut, violence.

I want to apologize in advance, I did my fare share of smut between 2008 and 2011, jesus we called them lemons back then (I'm so old, sorry) but in my native language. And even if I wasn't out of practice translating that kind of scenes is a complete nightmare, so I'm so sorry for what you are going to read.

■Part I  ■ Part II ■Part III ■ Part IV ■ Part V ■ Part VI ■ Part VII ■ Part VIII | Final ■

Part VI

"She invited you to ex's wedding?" Charlie said squatting out of breath, it was almost 8:00 am and they had been running since 7:00. "Don't you think it will be a bit inappropriate? I mean what if she still have feelings for that guy? God I need to lie down"

"Technically I invited myself..." Tom started also taking big breaths "Oh don't look at me like that, she they broke up long time ago, and even if she is not over him she would need support there, isn't that right Bobby??" He knelt to pet his dog, who looked at them puzzled by how tired they seemed to be.

"So, when is the big day?" He said finally standing up.

"Saturday, but apparently we are going to a small diner on friday night, the whole event is in a Hotel in West Yorkshire, and I don't feel like driving four hours in the same day"

"If I don't know you better I would say you're a brilliant bastard" he said choking out a laugh.

"Why?"

"Nice romantic hotel in the country, the emotional vulnerability of seeing your ex getting married, the comfort of the nice blue eyes of a loving friend" he said making and exaggerate gesture to Tom's face "But is you so ai assume you won't even share a room platonically"

"You are completely out of your mind" he said laughing "although it is a nice place, look" He showed him the electronic invitation where both bride and groom smiled to each other in front of the hotel.

"Is that the guy? Well she certainly had a type" he said studying the picture "I mean if he were older or a bit more fit he would look just like you" Tom look at the picture again not finding the resemblance "I'll tell you something if you guys finally do hook up could you wait until March to tell people? I said 3 years and 1 month and Zawe said 3 years exactly and I don't feel like letting her win."

"Do you really have a betting pool about us? Don't worry, I wouldn't tell you anything even of something happens" he said with a chuckle and they continued their run.

On friday at 3:00 p.m. he showed up at Y/N's place, with Charlie's words still resonating in his head, he found her in a beautiful burgundy off shoulder column cocktail dress and black heels, making this the third time he ever saw her in a dress, it was a big difference from the usual sneakers and hoodies, not a bad one but he couldn't help a bit of jealousy thinking this was for someone else.

"Stop staring at me, I know it's ridiculous and I'm gonna break my bloody neck with this things" She said showing him the fragile tip of one of the heels, he smiled founding his friend true nature even in that situation. "Stupid dress codes, is it too late to stay home? I have a rosé in the fridge wwith your name on it if you let me..."

"And losing the opportunity of seeing you roll your eyes at every old men comments on the country's economy?" He said putting her back inside the car and immediately after offering her hand to enter the car "Not a chance. You look lovely by the way"

"I won't roll my eyes at them, believe it or not, I do know how to handle myself in social events" She put on her seatbelt and he started the car turning on the GPS "Is the idea of meeting our old friends from uni and his parents what freaks me out, they must think I'm some kind of monster"

Our for some reason that word hurt more than it should, he brushed off the idea from his head again, jealous was an useless emotion to him and a dangerous one too in some people, and he was determined to not let them get the best of him.

"I don't think they would have invited you if they felt like that, or at least not to the rehearsal dinner too if that was the case." He said taking an exit indicated in the GPS.

"You clearly don't know Agnes Hawtrey" He briefly turn to her intrigued "David's mother, she is a rich harpy obsessed with showing everyone all the money their family has. I feel sorry for her future daughter in law, but since they actually getting married I assume she is not some Liberal brat who thinks spending Christmas in Libya is appropriate" She said imitating an high pitch voice with a posh accent.

"Why Libya?"

"Medecins sans frontiers" She answered "I volunteered to work with them in my holidays and David followed me a couple times. Agnes hated me for it, I actually think she was happy when I left him."

"Do you speak french?" He asked again trying to change the subject.

"Enough to work with them, but I'm completely rusty by now" she answered "I know it's too much effort to escape a suffocating relationship" the angry beast that had formed in his chest began to fade thanks to the idea of she not being entirely happy with the other guy, so he decided to approach the problem differently.

"I don't understand how do you end up together in the first place, you are too much of a free spirit to be around someone like that" He said, by now the city was getting behind them and he could start driving faster.

"Well my family is actually quite wealthy" She started causing a puzzled expression in his face "I reject any form of help from them and live on my own, but I did play my part in society for a while, so it seemed meant to be at the time. Of course I turned out to be a rotten apple and at some point I believe I was his excuse to hide how much he didn't enjoy their life style. I told you he was no saint, and maybe those where our finest moments" She said with a nostalgic smile, as if she remembered an specially pleasing memory. "But real life happened, you know? You are gonna like him don't worry"

"Well he sounds like a decent men" he said bitterly because his idea backfired "Music?"

They spend the rest of the trip talking about meaningless topics and singing along with the radio, by the time they eentered Yorkshire it was seven in the afternoon and the sun was standing to hide, the Waterton Perk hotel was magnificent, romantic and secluded as Charlie said, in the middle of a lake connected to land by a bridge full with trees naked by the winter that make the mansion looking more as something out of a fairytale.

He helped her out of the car and enjoyed having her body close to him while they crossed the bridge preventing her to fall with her heels. They entered a small lounge where people where waiting for the dinner to be served. As she had said earlier that week most of the people attending were old family friends of the bride and groom, and not many young faces were in the crowd. Except from those who he believed were the Uni friends, he introduced himself and even took a picture with one of the girls who had a similar reaction as Y/N when she met him.

Y/N was now chatting, a few meters away, more comfortable with them expecting the arrival of the main guests, while a couple of people were distracting Tom, complimenting his performance as Coriolanus a few years back and praising his Robert Down, so he couldn't notice the old woman, elegantly dressed in a light gray dress walking towards Y/N and dragging her apart from her friends, until she start talking in that high pitch voice Y/N had imitated very well earlier.

"How dare you showing your face in here?" The woman said to her while the young woman only remind silent not meeting her gaze "You spoiled ridiculous brat, after what you did to my boy, you should be ashamed..."

"Relax Agnes," She finally said lifting her look, Tom then was about to intervene but he could se a quiet rage behind her otherwise unaffected face, and felt forced to stay and watch "Let me remind you that your son invited me. And the last time I checked you are not David, also if you cared a little about your precious boy you wouldn't be making a fool of yourself in front of your guests" People where now standing very close to them listening every word the women said.

"You are right dear," Agnes started with a tone that said just the opposite, but smiling regaining her composure "After all how can I expect manners from a little trash from Devon anyway" Y/N let out a sarcastic laugh at the remark against her hometown and looked at her while the elder woman turned her back on her.

"Of course because the loose daughter of a fisherman as you called me can't be a suitable in law for you, I honestly pity the poor woman who has to have you in her life, I hope you can control her since you couldn't do it with me...

Her sentence die in the air because an old hand full of rings slapped her before she could finish, a red mark started forming in Y/N face, an she was fighting the tears, both from the humiliation and the hurt, from coming out of her eyes. Tom could see Agnes hand getting ready to hit her again while he tried to reach Y/N when a hand stopped her out of nowhere and spoke with a deep angry voice.

"That's enough mother" The infamous David was there, holding her mother still and standing in front of Y/N as a shield, all welled dressed and athletic, she looked tiny behind him and the beast inside Tom's chest started growling again. "Dad I asked you to watch her, Diane will be here any minute and I can't have this happening right now" The man who Tom assume was his father took agnes outside of the room and the rest of the people returned to their conversations as if nothing happened, finally allowing him to get closer. "Are you ok baby?" He said looking finally at Y/N offering his handkerchief to wipe her tears, that last word burned like fire in Tom's ears, he was now facing her with his back to Tom, and the bright smile that she gave him when she answered was making him sick

"It's okay sweetheart" She give back the handkerchief and give the man a good look "Let her have it, she has wanted to do that for 15 years, it's only fare, you look amazing, I'm so happy for you" She hugged him and the familiarity he showed holding her, made Tom's blood boil, he wanted to get him apart from her immediately, and take her far away from him and the poisonous thought of they together for years was corrupting his mind, there it was, jealousy cold and simple, the only thing his mind kept telling him was: He had her, and you don't. He had her for years, just the way you want her, she was his.

"And where is your something like that, I'm dying to met the lad" He said letting her go.

"Right behind you" she said completely ignoring the change in Tom's expression who was looking at the two with his mind apparently somewhere else. "Tom this is David." She said calling his name and breaking the murderous thoughts he was having.

"Sorry I wake you up the other night mate... Bloody hell you beautiful minx you did it!" He said loudly hugging her by the shoulder and then, much to his displeasure, Tom "Years obsessed with him, and drooling to his posters in our house and here you are inviting him to my wedding, I must say girl you made it! congratulations." She started turning red again but this time from the embarrassment, and Tom finally relaxed, something about David's personality make it impossible for him to be angry, maybe it was the fact that he was genuinely happy and how could he not? It was his wedding after all.

"Posters?" He asked enjoying the desperation in Y/N eyes urging him to change the subject.

"Posters, dvds, tshirts, you name it, she dragged me to watch your movies like four times each time they were on the cinema and then watched them on repeat at our flat" He recalled with exasperation "Don't get me wrong you are a fine looking man but not my type"

"Oh god, I think I'm going to find your mother to slap me again" She said covering her face "Please, I beg you stop talking"

"Let the man finish, it's the most compelling history" Tom said and while he put his arm around her waist taking her close to him.

"I'm glad to see you two together, I was so relieved when she said she was bringing someone, not like she needs anyone" He said anticipating her reaction proving to Tom just how much he knew her "But you two look actually happy together, and she's the most wonderful person" Y/N was about to clear things out when Tom wink at her and pressed her a little closer to him.

"She actually is, and we are very happy" He said giving him one of signature smiles "Is that your bride?" A young looking woman entered the room with a beautiful pale pink dress, and she looked at them completely baffled.

"Oh yes baby, that's my Diane" the man said and Tom felt ashamed for his brief jealous attack as the man seemed to call everyone baby. "Guess who we wake up the other morning dear?" The man said urging the girl to join them.

"Oh my goodness" The woman started "Are you...?" Tom smiled and politely introduce himself, and David then introduced both women "I am so sorry about the other morning, I told David to wait until noon when we were in Pakistan but he called you anyways, it was four in the morning right?"

"Yes, but never mind, what where you doing in Pakistan?" Y/N said now holding tight Tom's waist too.

"Building a hospital, Diane's foundation hired me a couple years ago and that's how we met, we've been living there for like five months, we were just going to elope a few weeks back, but I did this so I wouldn't cause my mother an aneurysm, but she had to accept my conditions to make it happen" He said proudly.

"Like inviting me?"

"That was actually my demand" Diane said with a little blush on her face "I really wanted to meet you, I heard so many wonderful things about you I thought maybe it was time for you to be friends again"

"And I told her we never stopped being friends in the first place, but she is stubborn, and I can't resist her" they started kissing like there were no one else in the room and Tom and Y/N look at each other nervously.

"Oi! Leave something for tomorrow" on of their friends called them from the dining room "The food is here come on"

The rest of the night went by without any other incident, apart for the perpetual state of happiness that David showed for Tom's presence, by the time the rest of the gests went to find their rooms Y/N and Tom were taking a last walk in the cold night, it was until they were at the entrance of the bridge that he noticed they were holding hands.

"Your boyfriend is quite a nice gentleman" he said teasing her.

"By the amount of wine he was trying to make you drink I would think he wants to be your boyfriend" she responded quickly. "Why did you told him we were together?" She question him now completely serious.

"I didn't thought you wanted to explain the nature of our relationship after what happened with his mother. So until the wedding is over I suppose I'm your boyfriend. How is your face by the way?" He said, not giving importance to the matter while they kept walking.

"It has been better. And thank you I suppose you are right, and it is nice to imagine what could have been, if I haven't been an idiot at the restaurant all those years ago, and not scaring you into not calling back" He stopped suddenly making them broke contact.

"That's why you think I didn't called?" He asked perplex "I couldn't care less about that ridiculous tantrum, if anything I was more interested in you for it" she was too astonished by his declaration to talk so he continued "I didn't asked you out again because you said I'll see you around I assumed you didn't want to be involved with me that way so I didn't push it."

"Well..." She started quietly with a sad half smile in her face "I did say that, with that precise intention, but secretly hoping for you to call anyway, and I even considered to ask you out myself, but then we became friends and, I don't know it was for the best, but nights like this one make me wonder if we made a mistake."

"Please never say that again" He took her face with both hands his hands and looked deeply in her eyes "Every day I have spend with you regardless of what our relationship may be, has been a blessing. I wouldn't change it for the world" she let go a sigh and her breath turn into vapor in the night, making them realize the cold weather. "I think we should get back inside, you are gonna freeze out here love, and what kind of fake boyfriend will I be if I let you become an ice lolly?". He offered her his arm so they could get back inside, his mind thinking too about how much he wanted to call her the minute he got home that day, but as always trying to respect her he didn't , and as always he calmed his regrets telling himself it was for the best, even if every passing day he felt more and more the opposite.

The room they had book was nice and comfortable, the big canopy bed in the middle was a beautiful promise of a long night of sleep and the window had a beautiful look at the lake. They both will be lying if they said this was the first night they have spend together, falling asleep talking in Tom's couch had happened more than half a dozen times, and even if Y/N never accepted it in front of her friends, she had stayed a couple of nights with him watching Bobby getting better, even sleeping in the same bed completley completely consumed by fatigue, so there was no awkwardness between them about consciously sharing the bed.

She took her heels off and found her silky romper pyjama in her suit case next to her travel size copy of Wuthering Heights, wich she occasionally read when she traveled and with the look outside the mansion it seemed appropriate, Y/N sit in the armchair in the corner of the room to read, waiting for Tom to get out of the shower, after reading four times the same paragraph without getting anything from it she realized just how tired she was.

She heard the door opened and saw him getting out of the shower whit just a pair of black loose sweatpants dangling from his hips and a thin line of pubic hair crawling up from the waistband dying in his perfect abs, drying his hair with a towel.

"What?" He asked her looking at her finally. "Do you feel alright darling?"

"I'm just tired" she said quickly taking her clothes and getting into the bathroom for a much needed cold shower. When she stepped out after drying her hair she almost fell down because he had turned out all of the lights and was already deeply sleeping, she'll have time to nagging him about how inconsiderate that was in the morning, she entered the bed and close her eyes trying to drift apart and think about nothing when she felt his arms suddenly trapping her and bringing her closer to him by her waist.

She didn't mind since they had cuddled like that before, even when this particular time she could feel the bare skin of his chest in her back, but then the hand that was holding her started moving slowly caressing her belly and some parts she often felt self conscious about, then slowly moving down to her thigh, she was about to finally move and stop him when she felt his breath behind her back and his deep voice in her ear.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes" Y/N said in a tiny whisper while his hand found her way under the fabric of her romper.

"Are you cold again?" He asked this time brushing his nose in her neck, every inch of her skin was reacting to his touch and the deep tone of his voice was making her wet "you are shaking"

"It's not about that" she answered incapable of moving only embracing the magnificent sensations she was receiving.

"Am I making you feel uncomfortable?" His hand had finally found her lacy panties and he had stopped only touching the seam waiting for her permission to continue. "Do you want this to happen?" He said stopping his movements completely, she could feel her heart racing and all logic flying away.

"Yes, I want it" she said finally and he caressed her womanhood over the thin fabric, making her soaked, while his other hand tried to remove the top part of her jumper sliding down the traps leaving her braless chest exposed.

"Naughty girl" He said with a chuckle leaving a trace of kisses in her back and cupping her breast in his hand playing with her niple until it was hard and them pinching it to get her in that point between pain and pleasure.

He move apart the fabric of her panties and let one of his long digits inside her making her moan in pleasure and impatiently brushing her thighs together desperate for more friction, she could feel his arousal pressing firmly in her buttocks, and all this anticipation was only to torture her.

"Don't be impatient my dear" he said letting in another finger and curling them inside her, touching her right on the spot to make her lost her mind "Tell me that you want it Y/N" he order her and she let go another moan.

"Fuck me Tom, fuck me please!" She said and he immediately took his fingers out to pin her in the bed under him.

He finished taking the rest of her clothes in one movement and opened her legs ready to enter her, he give her one last deep look with those piercing blue eyes and he bend to kiss her...

"You should take a shower or at least put on something more comfortable" Tom face said suddenly wearing his glasses and fully clothed. Y/N blink twice, before shaking the sleepiness, and trying to figure out what was happening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, but I thought you may want to shower before going to sleep"

She finally opened her eyes completely and could see him out of the shower on his pijamas, her silky romper still waiting for her to take a shower and her book comfortably resting on the lamp stand next to her.

"Yeah sure, I'm too tired I must have fallen asleep, thanks for waking me up" she said avoiding his look and desperately picking up her fresh clothes.

"Sure love, you can't be at the wedding with a crooked neck" he said picking up the book she was reading. "You were moving a lot so I imagine that armchair can't be comfortable" he said with a distracted smile and she went straight to the bathroom before turning red of embarrassment.

Y/N slammed the bathroom door closed, and Tom stood next to the armchair looking where she was just moments before, once he heard the water fall in the shower he massaged his temples, trying to erase from his mind what he had seen but it was impossible and he really didn't want to forget it. She was sweating and panting when he got out of the shower, and the neckline of her dress a was a little lower than usual perfectly countoring her breasts.

He stood there looking at her and it took him just one more second to realized what kind of dream she must've been having. Blushing and feeling like a pervert he walked back into the bathroom determined to make as much noise as he could to wake her up when he heard her moan. Fuck me Tom, fuck me please! He walked back to her and before the blood abandoned his brain entirely, to migrate to his lower region, he did the logical thing and wake her up.

He exhaled feeling like and idiot. This was going to be a long weekend.

[dareinfernum2]

･ﾟﾟ･｡ ( ester exposito, cis female, she/her ) — 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒐𝒎𝒆 ALECTO CARROW, the NINTH year SLYTHERIN student ! i hear that the NINETEEN year old is known to be BEGUILING and AMBITIOUS and also very SADISTIC and DUPLICITOUS. however, if you ask me, the fact that they are a PUREBLOOD and leaning towards the side of the DEATH EATERS is a lot more telling.

disclaimer: names & details may change slightly but the end product remains the same so here we go. also the headcanons are all included from my application.

links.

biography.

statistics.

connections.

pinterest.

recap.

alecto was born and raised with the purpose to continue pure bloodlines. her childhood was filled with the finer things in life; galas, dinners and not to mention the never ending etiquette and dance lessons. she was taught to be attentive and intelligent enough, but not to show off.

it really hasn’t worked out for her parents the way they had planned. not because alecto doesn’t care about bloodlines. but, because she hates playing dumb for the benefit of someone else’s ego.

to top it off she thinks there are other ways, better ways, for her to ensure bloodlines in the wizarding community remain pure that don’t involve becoming a housewife and popping out children for a husband decided for her.

alecto has had a fascination with fire since she was eight years old and accidentally, somewhat on purpose, set her mother’s greenhouse on fire because she was told she was no longer allowed in there.

it extends further, and she wants to work with dragons.

personality wise alecto is pretty cold. she prefers solitude and her cat over rambunctious parties. but at the same time she is also very caring in a more gentle and intimate setting. she cares for a few and when she does her care goes deep.

she is unpredictable and chaotic, keen to set things on fire when distressed or upset about something, throwing things around and breaking whatever she can get her hands on when she falls into her fits of rage.

so while she seems calm and almost apathetic a lot of the time it is preferable to the opposite, because no matter what when alecto shows any feeling it is extreme.

alecto does not have the dark mark, yet, she is intrigued by it though and could very easily be convinced to get it now rather than wait longer.

connections.

just suggestions and highly wanted, all come from the connections page linked earlier in the post.

betrothal ;; her parents tried once before with a poor fellow from france. this time they've looked closer to home in hopes that alecto won't find a way to chase them off; they're betting on their own social circles to be enough to control her. 

best friends ;; a partner in crime, the ying to the yang. the pair or more that are typically attached by the hip, consult each other, and couldn’t live without one another.

childhood friends ;; friends since the diaper days, could be a brother/sister or sister/sister type connection. may or may not still be friends.

frenemies ;; they’re nice to each others faces and act like friends but are constantly talking badly about each other.

friends with benefits ;; friends who hook up and either have or haven’t blurred the lines between the physical and emotional connection.

on again, off again ;; (ariana’s voice) make up, break up, total waste of time. this is basically a couple that you’d get whiplash from on whether or not they are together.

exes with lingering feelings ;; exes that broke up but still have feelings towards each other and can’t help but feel jealous/hurt seeing the other with someone else.

headcanons.

i. theodosia carrow - cat.

at sixteen years of age alecto walked through diagon alley a young woman on a mission. it was no mission most other people would not have found it as important as she did. but alecto carrow was about to buy her first cat, the first pet belonging to only her and not in any way any other family member. this wasn’t the owl bringing their mail she affectionately fed treats at the kitchen table only to get a light nip in return.

walking into the store alecto looked around at the cats, a small bengal kitten perking up at the sight of her, curious eyes staring into her own bringing a smile to her lips. after that there was no question about who was coming home with her, and moments later alecto carried the kitten in her arms as she made her way home.

alecto named the cat theodosia and since she came home with her they have barely been separated. the feline has chosen alecto over anyone else, often climbing up on her shoulders to wrap around her, purring softly in the crook of her neck as alecto reads in the common room. when alecto is distressed theo curls into her, meowing and pawing at the teenager to get her attention, refusing to stop fussing until she can feel alecto calm.

ii. herbology.

ever since she was a little girl life and death has intrigued alecto. she looks at the flowers blooming in spring before slowly decaying as the cold comes during the autumn months. when she was young she spent countless hours in the gardens around the carrow manor, she planted seeds of flowers and made sure they got attention, they got water and sunshine. alecto learned about life and death from plants, she learned how she had the power to keep them alive, but also how some of them had the power to take hers. she found beauty in all of it, and it’s been close to her heart ever since. even when she started school and it became about books and essays rather than lying in the gardens at the manor.

iii. fire.

if you play with fire you’ll get burned. alecto knows this, in part because she has literally played with fire and gotten herself burned more times than she can count on two hands before the age of thirteen. but, she understands it metaphorically as well. alecto understands that when people say fire they are referring to a chaotic event capable of ruining something good happening to people, something of your doing which can turn the world upside down.

alecto has always liked chaos. she has liked turning the world upside down. but more than anything she has liked fire. it’s been made obvious since she was eight and set her mother’s greenhouses on fire after the woman told her she was no longer allowed in them. in a fit of white hot fury alecto lost control of her magic and before she could react the buildings were in flames. instead of screaming alecto had smiled, she stood serenely watching the flames with a calm smile on her lips as if she was just watching a sunrise.

since then that’s the way it’s been, fire calms her. watching the flames dance and the smoke billow, watching how it can transform almost everything to ashes, she loves it.

iv. althea carrow - mother.

like any teenage girl alecto has had her fights with her mother. they have fought since she was a child. they have fought about alecto’s attitude, how she came home with ripped clothes and dirty elbows, how she didn’t speak to her elders with enough respect, how she didn’t speak to her peers with enough respect. then there was the potential fiancé from france, she definitely got in a fight with her mother about how she spoke to him. the fight they had after alecto scared him off is the angriest she has ever seen her mother.

but they love each other all the same. at least alecto knows she loves althea, at times she is unsure whether or not her mother actually returns the sentiment. it was her mother who introduced her to the art of herbology, her mother who taught her which fork to use at the dinner table, who reminded her of her posture, who protected her when she had a bad dream and checked for monsters inside her closet.

so yeah, over the years they have fought and when they do it is explosive. but alecto loves her mother. it is that love which has caused her to rebel so many times because, when alecto got older her mum stopped checking for monsters and stopped reading to her. the one thing that didn’t stop was pointing out her flaws so alecto makes sure her mother sees how flawed she is, that way she doesn’t loose her completely.

v. father - nicolas carrow.

when alecto was a little girl she had a tradition with her dad. while he was reading the newspaper she would sit underneath the table and once he had finished one section he would hand it to her, she would read it and fold it together before her gave her the next. it was their thing. she was his daughter and they read together every morning. until they didn’t.

alecto couldn’t understand when her dad suddenly appeared to stop caring about her. nicolas carrow didn’t look at her the way he once had, when she was six and came home with scraped knees crying he comforted her. when she was twelve he didn’t look her way beyond a disdainful glare. she was a disappointment and alecto could not even tell when it had changed, when she had started to do things all wrong in her father’s eye.

what she knows now is that she isn’t doing anything wrong. she is doing things her own way and her way isn’t compatible with the way her father wants for her. he wants her to marry, to have children, to carry on a pureblood legacy. alecto wants more than that and it’s not something her dad can come to terms with.

vi. amycus carrow - brother.

there is no one else in the world alecto thinks could ever really stand her the way amycus does. she knows she is a lot. she knows her mood swings from serene and smiling to hurricane like destruction is exhausting. she knows that her constant need to be right is annoying. she knows that it is too much when she tries to decide everything about everyone all the time. but those are things which makes alecto who she is and without her brother she knows she would be so much worse.

to alecto her brother is less of a sibling and more of an extension of herself. he knows her secrets and her flaws, he is her strengths and the sides of her that she actually likes. while alecto always wears her heart on her sleeve, she truly is terrible at hiding them, it is her brother who she actually opens her heart up to. amycus knows her and she loves him, throughout her entire life of protecting each other the only thing that has made sense is knowing they’re in it all together.

alecto looks at her brother and sees hope. she sees her ability to love and can be surprised that is even a possibility. she didn’t think she would be able to love someone like that. but, she looks at him and knows she is not a lost cause. she is not all destructive chaos, she is a person capable of opening up her heart if only to the right people and maybe someday that capability will let her fall in love as well. one thing alecto knows is if she ever does fall in love it will be because her brother taught her she is worth it.

vii. thestrals.

when alecto was thirteen years old she walked into the forbidden forest and stumbled upon a clearing. she had been upset. it was the anniversary of her grandmother’s death and she needed to get away from everyone, including her brother. so she ran, ran into the forest and hoped no one had seen her and was off to tell on her to one of the professors. they didn’t find her but she found the clearing and the winged, black, skeletal horse creatures standing there with understanding in their eyes.

her heart was captured the moment she saw them. alecto saw a beauty in their cold and harsh appearance. she saw the softness in how one of the younger ones bumped into her playfully with their head and kept doing so until she was laughing. they cheered her up and then hours later when she got back to the castle she went to the library and found out just what the creatures were - thestrals.

since that day the clearing in the forest is one of her safe spaces. when alecto needs a break she’ll go there, she’ll bring apples for the creatures and she will sit, watching them live their lives and it helps her ground herself in her own life.

viii. the future.

the future quite honestly terrifies alecto more than anything else in the world. her future has been decided for her since the day she was born. she is meant to learn how to dance and play the piano, and speak eloquently and stand up straight, know which fork to use at what point during a dinner, to take care of a home, to have children. she is meant to be the perfect wife. but since she was a little girl alecto has known that what she is meant to be and what she wants to be, have never been the same things.¨

alecto wants to go to mainland europe, or north america, she wants to work with dragons. she has read about the dragon sanctuaries, where they look after the creatures and rehabilitates them when they have been harmed by other witches and wizards. that’s what she wants to do. she wants to help these creatures that have been hurt and care for them.

[esckeyes]

My Quetzal Story

If you follow me on Twitter or Instagram, you probably saw a lot of pictures of this bird called the “quetzal” recently. I am having a hard time describing why it was such a big deal for me. So I will try a longer post.

I read a history of Hernan Cortes’ conquest of Mexico once. I felt like the book itself was too kind to Cortes. But the one thing I vividly remember (and perhaps even problematic books can have glimpses of beauty) was a description of the native peoples trying to save quetzal feathers instead of gold and jewels on “La Noche Triste” (needs new name?).

I had never heard of this bird called the quetzal (or the Resplendent Quetzal, more properly). I googled quetzal feathers and found some lovely looking—but probably fake—headdresses said to belong to Aztec nobility. I also found out that the quetzal is mostly extinct in Mexico, which made me sad. The feathers were such a beautiful color and they were a great symbol of the Mexica people. 

Cut to my sister (who travels a lot because she does a job that pays her actual money and gives her vacation time. Weird!), planning a trip to Costa Rica. I was super bummed because I was the one who took Spanish in school. She took French. I knew very little about Costa Rica from my textbooks (my Spanish IV textbook had cultural pages with history and information about various Spanish speaking countries. They usually were about how some asshole treated the people like shit). Costa Rica was a nice change because it didn’t have a lot of war or upheaval--there was a lot about colorful animals and their focus on saving them.  Mostly I remember that they abolished the army and I thought that was cool.  I wanted to go.

I don’t remember exactly when, during my sister’s time researching her trip that I learned there are still a few quetzals alive in the wild of Costa Rica. That is all fuzzy. But the point is: she was going to the country with these Mexica quetzals I wanted to see AND the eco-friendly Spanish-speaking nation without me? I was a big ball of pout.

So for Christmas, my dad said he would pay for me to accompany my sister. (My parents don’t like that she travels alone anyhow, I don’t think.)

I kept showing people videos on YouTube and gifs on Twitter. (Not everyone liked that I did this) I also learned some random quetzal facts from the internet. But I was worried I wouldn’t actually get to see one because they are nearly extinct and, well, you have to be lucky. I am not a bird-watcher or an experienced naturalist. I just like stories and the myths surrounding the quetzal. Symbols greatly intrigue me.

— The quetzal was considered sacred to many indigenous peoples. It is associated with the Mesoamerican god Quetzalcoatl. Notice the similarity in the names. (You have probably heard of Quetzalcoatl as the god the Aztecs were said to have thought Cortes was. I was taught this in Spanish class. But it is an exaggeration at best and the purpose of this story seems to be “these natives are dumb” even though their society was so advanced and awestruck the Spanish.)

— Quetzal feathers were worth a great deal (obviously more than gold to the Aztecs). It is still the name of the currency of Guatemala, though they are sadly paper now not actual feathers. And this got me thinking about the arbitrary nature of “wealth” and why shiny rocks are worth more than shells, feathers, or other parts of nature. It seems like putting a higher value on life itself.

— The quetzal also is supposed to represent liberty. I read online that one would “kill itself” in captivity (more on this below) and hearing its song before battle meant victory over the Spanish. THIS IS ALL COOL STUFF THAT COULD BE USED AS A METAPHOR IN A BOOK AND WHY HAVEN’T I READ THIS BOOK.

Anyway, back to my trip to Costa Rica. We looked online for the best places to see a Resplendent !uetzal, because, again it is hard and there are only a few places they live now.

My sister already planned a visit to the Monteverde Cloud Forest Reserve so that was a possibility. But our guide there said, when I asked him about it, that thousands of people go into that forest but that maybe only 10% get to see a quetzal.

The cloud forest itself is very cool. I learned about rainforests in school but not cloud forests. It’s wet and green everywhere. I found it a bit overwhelming. Our guide would say, look at that [insert species] over there” and I would be like, “I see trees.” There was just so much. We actually did pass by a female quetzal at one point (the female is not as brightly colored as the male) but I saw movement and that was about it.

If I am honest, I was a bit disappointed. But I kept telling myself that I was lucky to see one at all.

However, the next day we went to the Curi-Cancha reserve. (Take a moment to appreciate how great it is that Costa Rica has so many nature reserves.) I told our guide there that I would like to get a picture of a quetzal if possible but I had seen one the day before.

He knew a lot about birds. I asked him if there were any that he’d love to see and he mentioned an endangered bird he needed to go to South America to see. (I had meant in the park itself so I was thrown that he was talking about taking a trip to see a bird. But I guess that is what I was doing, wasn’t it?)

So when he heard through the grapevine of guides (if you go to Costa Rica and you should, keep an eye out for how all the tour guides alert each other if they saw anything cool down the way—it’s like an animal whisper network) that a male quetzal had been spotted in an avocado tree, he made me and the other family on the tour RUN to the tree. I appreciated this but felt bad for the other family because maybe they didn’t care.

The guide took SO MANY pictures for me. I wanted to cry.

Here is Mr. Quetzal sittin’ and showing off his long tail feathers.

This photo (and others) were taken for me by my guide through a scope. Then he made us RUN to another side of the tree because he wanted us to see that the quetzal feathers look different colors in different light. Most describe them as green or blue but—FUN FACT—they are actually mostly brown but iridescent for better camouflage. (The red spot is said to be blood from the Conquistador Pedro de Alvarado. More fun mythology!)

Look how fuzzy his silly head is. I love him so much.

Our guide also talked about the myths around the quetzal. I may have stepped on his toes there some. (Sorry!) But he cleared up the whole “They kill themselves” thing. He said they are easily stressed—aren’t we all; I feel ya, bird bro—and being caged can cause them the have heart attacks.

He also said there are fewer of them every year, so if you want to see one, go soon. This is because the female quetzal can only lay two eggs during a small window of nesting period, and said eggs are vulnerable to predators. Also the nesting period, formerly March to June, is getting thrown out of whack by global warming making it warmer earlier. This is probably why I was able to see one in February since the nesting period is when they usually come out and about.

But, possible good news, he said zoologists have successfully hatched one in captivity in Mexico recently. The only articles I can find on this are in Spanish and it sucky because I want to know everything. Can someone please let me know?

Especially considering one of the myths I read was that the quetzal would not sing in Mexico until the Invaders were defeated. Like, is it revolution time now? Should I get a weapon? And what does it mean that scientists engineered this revolution? I have questions about how this fits into the mythology, damnit!

I have a lot of thoughts.

[artemis-entreri]

[[ This post contains Part 3 of my review/analysis of the Forgotten Realms/Drizzt novel, Boundless, by R. A. Salvatore. As such, the entirety of this post’s content is OOC. ]]

Genre: Fantasy

Series: Generations: Book 2 | Legend of Drizzt #35 (#32 if not counting The Sellswords)

Publisher: Harper Collins (September 10, 2019)

My Rating: 2 out of 5 stars

Additional Information: Artwork for the cover of Boundless and used above is originally done by Aleks Melnik. This post CONTAINS SPOILERS. Furthermore, this discussion concerns topics that I am very passionate about, and as such, at times I do use strong language. Read and expand the cut at your own discretion.

Contents:

Introduction

I. Positives    I.1 Pure Positives    I.2 Muddled Positives

II. Mediocre Writing Style    II.1 Bad Descriptions    II.2 Salvatorisms    II.3 Laborious “Action”

III. Poor Characterization (you are here)    III.1 “Maestro”    III.2 Lieutenant    III.3 Barbarian    III.4 “Hero”    III.5 Mother

IV. World Breaks    IV.1 Blinders Against the Greater World    IV.2 Befuddlement of Earth and Toril    IV.3 Self-Inconsistency    IV.4 Dungeon Amateur    IV.5 Utter Nonsense

V. Ego Stroking    V.1 The Ineffable Companions of the Hall    V.2 Me, Myself, and I

VI. Problematic Themes    VI.1 No Homo    VI.2 Disrespect of Women    VI.3 Social-normalization    VI.4 Eugenics

VII. What’s Next   VII.1 Drizzt Ascends to Godhood   VII.2 Profane Redemption   VII.3 Passing the Torch   VII.4 Don’t Notice Me Senpai

Poor Characterization

Boundless sees an overall regression from Timeless in terms of quality of characterization. It almost feels as though Salvatore is saying, "I don't have room for character development because Boundless is such a non-stop action novel". Most of the page space is taken up by the many unfolding events, with opponents one after another that Zaknafein has to duel in the past and a full on war fought on at least three separate fronts in the present. However, even putting aside the fact that so many of those pages could've been truncated and space dedicated to character progression, instead, what we find in Boundless is shallow, self-inconsistent, lazy, and really, just mediocre. I'm not sure what effect Salvatore was trying to achieve through the cursory and flat overviews he gives to all of the characters in his Dramatis Personae section that precedes the body of the novel. Descriptions like the one for Briza Do'Urden, which reads, "Malice's eldest daughter. Huge and formidable" makes me wonder if Salvatore was going for humor. Yet, there isn't anything funny about the rest of the characterizations, except in an ironic sense in how bad they are, as though they were the words of someone trying to explain the characters to a not very bright child. I suppose it's an appropriate precedent, given how the "fleshed out" characterizations go in the novel.

"Maestro"

As suggested by Boundless' cover art, there's a lot of Jarlaxle in the book. Sadly, this manifests as a sort of butchering of Jarlaxle's capability and characterization in both the past and present timelines of the novel. Overall, Jarlaxle is very flat-footed, constantly doing the proverbial rocking back on his heels and falling on his butt. A character rocking back on their heels is one of Salvatore's favorite descriptors, and while, ironically, that phrase doesn't appear in Boundless, Salvatore does an excellent job of showing that Jarlaxle does it a great deal. This would be great in terms of showing instead of telling, except that, unfortunately, it happens when Jarlaxle's supposed to be doing something clever or there's some great revelation that manages to escape his masterfully strategic mind. I'd often joked that Salvatore isn't smart enough to write a character who's supposed to be as smart as Jarlaxle is, and this is very much evident in Boundless, except there's nothing funny about it. It's really just disappointing to see a character who is actually a nonconformist dragged down and forced to conform to Drizzt. Jarlaxle is also becoming more like Drizzt in the sense that he acts very differently from how he's supposed to be, all while we are being told over and over how he is truly, for real, pinky swear that certain way. In Drizzt's case, it is a judgmental, sanctimonious, pretentious, self-aggrandizing and presumptuous twat hailed to be the shining hero of goodness and virtue. And now, sadly, in Jarlaxle's case, a dopey, shortsighted, reckless, inattentive and not very bright clown wrapped in the cloak of one whose flair is matched only by his genius. 

As he is presented in Boundless, Jarlaxle would've been wholly consumed by the perils of Menzoberranzan almost immediately. The Jarlaxle in the past timeline should be closer to how he was in the Legacy of the Drow trilogy, but he's been tempered to beyond how he is in The Sellswords trilogy. He's even more tame than how he appears in Waterdeep: Dragon Heist, where he features as a genteel, at worst mischievous, sort of villain. Jarlaxle has become closer to Drizzt than even Zaknafein, with Zaknafein being more brutal. The Jarlaxle of the past is nearly identical to the Jarlaxle of the present, as though he were transcribed across the hundreds of years. I don't understand the reason that Salvatore did this. The current version of Jarlaxle is unpalatable enough, with all of the "intrigue" and the being for himself stance as nothing but empty posturing. It makes no sense that Jarlaxle would be that way in the past, for supposedly, experiencing the personality-altering phenomenon that is Drizzt Do'Urden hadn't even happened then. 

That said, let's look at some details. First, Boundless introduces an activity that Jarlaxle and Zaknafein enjoyed together, "cavern jumping", which is what we call free running or parkour in our world. They first partake of this activity in a super inspired and uniquely-named chapter entitled "Running Free". I was sarcastic just now, but I'm absolutely not sarcastic when I say this: parkour is dangerous. Even in our world, experienced traceurs can and do get hurt, and they don't normally run in an environment where many individuals stand to benefit if a fatal accident befalls them. Despite Jarlaxle saying that the risk is what makes the activity fun, this seems like a weak justification injected by a paranoid narrator who's aware that they're recounting a very unlikely event. For, the reality is, it's already dangerous that Jarlaxle and Zaknafein perform risky acrobatic maneuvers in one of the deadliest cities of Faerûn, they're doing it without any of their magical equipment. The very fact that Jarlaxle engages in this activity is reckless, and what makes it even more unlikely is the lack of assurances that are put in place to minimize potential "accidents". Zaknafein and Jarlaxle's cavern-jumping escapades aren't at all like when they pillaged Barrison Del'Armgo's armory. Although both are adrenaline-seeking activities, the latter was a controlled simulation that Jarlaxle had engineered and pulled strings to achieve. Jarlaxle might be a daredevil and an excitement-seeker, but he's not stupid, and he's supposed to be prudent, else everything that he's worked for would be for naught. He takes risks but we've been told that they're calculated ones, ones in which he's already figured out and examined every possible outcome. There's nothing calculated about cavern-jumping, and the only aspect that's even approaching consistent is their route. Even then, "consistent" can hardly be applied, for the two are constantly one-upping each other, pushing one another to quicker paces and more daring maneuvers. There aren't even Bregan D'aerthe scouts watching every turn, keeping an eye out for any parties of ill intention that might target the two high profile male drow. Heck, Jarlaxle isn't even aware of who's watching them, and he should both know and care, especially since Zaknafein is big enough of a target that many individuals wouldn't care about implicating Jarlaxle while attempting to "cavern-jump" Zaknafein. In fact, we even see in the same chapter one such interested party, and given that so much of the book is about people wanting to kill Zaknafein, I feel like the whole free running thing was just an excuse for Salvatore to show off his action scenes, except that there isn't anything to show off there. Simply showing off to this degree puts both of them at a disadvantage given how cutthroat and scheme-based drow society is supposed to be. Shouldn't Jarlaxle be worried about illustrating how flexible and agile he is, and doesn't Zaknafein want opponents to underestimate him?

Far from being circumspect, Jarlaxle doesn't seem to think at all. Even obvious things that would've occurred to a novice strategist escapes the one indirectly dubbed as "maestro". Following the fight between Zaknafein and Duvon Tr'arach, a holder of a century-long grudge against the weapons master who destroyed his house and humiliated him in combat, Jarlaxle is surprised to find that the drow whom he thought were ambushers were actually reinforcements brought by Zaknafein. This is not evocative of a streetwise genius maestro super spy. Of course Zaknafein would bring back-up, he knows the way of his society and knows how many want him dead. It would have been more reasonable for Jarlaxle to be surprised if Zaknafein hadn't brought anyone from his house with him. Salvatore has Jarlaxle thinking Zaknafein clever, but what should've happened is that Jarlaxle should have known about Zaknafein's backup in the first place, and have had agents monitoring them the whole time instead of embarrassing himself with his lack of foresight. Even better would have been if he feigned being surprised and impressed while we see Jarlaxle's agents melt back into the shadows without them alerting Zaknafein's assistants.

Jarlaxle being blindsided by the relationship between Zaknafein and Dab'nay, while more reasonable than the previous example, nonetheless doesn't belong to the same drow  who, during the Crenshinibon era, knew immediately that his two lieutenants were conspiring together against him. It's true that Jarlaxle is younger and less experienced during the flashback scenes of Boundless, but there's already a rapport between him and the members of his band, a trust that would not have built up solely based on individuals sharing the same plight. Jarlaxle's followers are fiercely loyal to him, and not solely because of his charisma. Jarlaxle shows these second-class citizens of his society something they've never known before, that someone is interested in who they are. He wins their favor because all they've known previously is that their worth is measured by their bloodline, their aptitude in combat and their aptitude in the bedroom. Even if Jarlaxle's intellect wasn't enough to allow him to foresee Dab'nay and Zaknafein hooking up as a possibility, his personal knowledge of Dab'nay should've suggested the probability to him. There's another poor characterization in that if Zaknafein's hatred of priestesses was as absolute and blinding as we've been told that it is, the only dagger he'd have plunged into Dab'nay wouldn't have been the one that's permanently attached to him. However, the relationship between Dab'nay and Zaknafein being what it's forced to be, surely, Jarlaxle would've known Zaknafein well enough to at least suspect the possibility. 

Although Jarlaxle is only literally stated to have "for once, seemed at a loss for words", his demonstrated lack of cleverness fails to back this up. Even in the scenario in which that is explicitly written, it's uncharacteristic of Jarlaxle to not know what to say. The passage reads:

So, from this we are to believe that the genius Jarlaxle can't produce an answer to that simple statement, when even I can think of a number of things to say on the fly: that Jarlaxle's not just any drow, that there are varying levels of trust that should be adjusted based on the circumstance, that there's such a thing as "trust but verify", that, fundamentally, the drow word for "trust" isn't as black and white as what Zaknafein is demanding. Jarlaxle's int score is a staggering 20, and he should easily come up with everything I've come up with just now and many many more answers that I can't even begin to think of with my far less staggering intellect. Things like these are just downright embarrassingly inept portrayals of Jarlaxle's alleged brilliance.

In the current timeline, Jarlaxle is even more dull, which I suppose is appropriate given the nerfing of who he was in the past. In addition to being just as flat-footed and shortsighted as his past incarnation in Boundless, Jarlaxle draws some really inaccurate conclusions. For instance, "Jarlaxle knew, of course, that Bruenor was more friend to Drizzt than Zaknafein had ever been, and indeed, more father to Drizzt than Zaknafein had ever been." Really? He knows, of course and indeed, this totally untrue assessment, does he? The first might be true, for Zaknafein wasn't present in Drizzt's life for nearly as much as Bruenor was, and even while he was there, the interactions between him and his son was restricted. But when did Bruenor risk his life on numerous occasions to simply ensure that Drizzt's moral compass and free will were not tainted? When did Bruenor sacrifice himself so that Drizzt might live? Bruenor was never even in a position to entreaty an assailant to take him instead of Drizzt. Perhaps if Salvatore defines father figures as aloof and distant presences in one's life who give tough love but never direct validation, then certainly Bruenor has been more of a father to Drizzt than Zaknafein was. However, the reality is that Bruenor never protected Drizzt the way that Zaknafein did and never guided Drizzt the way Zaknafein did. The only way that it would make sense for that assessment to belong to Jarlaxle is if Jarlaxle's own understanding of parent and child relationships is so incomplete that he doesn't know better, or if he's as stupid as he is shown to be in Boundless. The first possibility is most likely true from a personal angle for Jarlaxle, but Jarlaxle has lived long enough on the surface, mingling with enough surface folk to know, especially with what should be his level of perceptiveness, what it means to be a good father. He would need to have a good understanding of those kinds of dynamics, because they contain weaknesses that can be exploited. So, really, the only thing that would make all of this consistent is the latter possibility, which sadly, is where everything is trending anyway.

I'm not very emotionally invested in Jarlaxle, though I prefer him to most of the rest of the somewhat bland characters we see in Boundless. So when this many things make someone like me unhappy about Jarlaxle's characterization, I'd hate to see what someone who feels towards him like I feel towards Artemis Entreri will take away from Boundless. I'm sure that I'm missing a lot of irksome things, but the ones that I've pointed out are what stood out to me, and I'll end the discussion of Jarlaxle with one final example. In both Timeless and Boundless, Jarlaxle has this strange and decidedly non-Menzoberranzanyr perspective regarding "married couples" of drow. The usage of "husband" and "wife" in these books is extremely weird, because as we know from all D&D and Forgotten Realms source material, including Salvatore's own books, that there is no formality in Lolthite drow relationships. Females take males at their pleasure, abandoning them as whimsically as they pick them up, and being a Patron of a house means nothing. What's even more strange is that Zaknafein isn't even the Patron of House Do'Urden, Rizzen still holds that title while Zaknafein and Malice are sexually active together, yet since Timeless, Zaknafein has been referred to as Malice's husband. Furthermore, while, as far as we know, Jarlaxle has never slept with the partners of people that he likes, it was always more of a strategic decision rather than a moral one. For instance, he found Calihye and Dahlia unstable, thus not cuckolding Entreri and Drizzt, and the closest he'd come to showing interest to a "taken" partner was with Catti-brie, but even then, morals aren't what prevent him from pursuing her. Yet, steeped in the degenerate society of Menzoberranzan, Jarlaxle prefers not to have sexual contact with Malice because Zaknafein is his friend. Where did this belief come from? It certainly doesn't exist in drow culture, males are sex objects for the females, perhaps sometimes rising to the rank of favored toy, nothing more. In a society like that, the toy doesn't have delusions of possession. Jarlaxle is one of the few, if not only, male drow in Menzoberranzan who even has a choice, who can even say no to a female without being killed horribly. I get that Salvatore is trying to show that Jarlaxle is honorable towards his friendship with Zaknafein, but he doesn't have to break the character in addition to his own world-building, as well as that of other creatives', to do so. There are so many ways to do it, but I suppose those are less obvious and require more thinking.

Lieutenant

The poor characterizations extend beyond what's done to Jarlaxle. The number of times that an inconsistency arises between what a character is supposed to be/know and how they perceive things or act is staggering. In the past, there is Arathis Hune, Jarlaxle's first and only lieutenant for a long time, and presumably, one of his most trusted friends. Arathis and Jarlaxle should understand each other quite well, so the fact that Arathis didn't foresee that Jarlaxle would assist Zaknafein during Zaknafein's rigged duel with Duvon Tr'arach is unlikely. Arathis might've had an ace in the form of psionic assistance in swaying the match, but unless he is a total fool, he wouldn't think that Jarlaxle wasn't aware of his dalliances, especially with potential allies as powerful as Oblodrans. Furthermore, Jarlaxle's fondness of Zaknafein is enough of a thorn in Arathis' side that Arathis would've certainly anticipated Jarlaxle intervening on behalf of Zaknafein, even if Arathis didn't specifically guess that Jarlaxle would do so by means of lending Zaknafein his eyepatch. Even if Jarlaxle had never explicitly told Arathis about the functionality of his eyepatch, Arathis, who would've certainly witnessed Jarlaxle constantly escaping the various mind-manipulating magics of the priestesses of Lolth, should've been able to deduce that Jarlaxle has a magical item that protects him against such intrusions. Arathis might not be a master genius like Jarlaxle, but he is a drow, who are supposed to be masters of intrigue in their own right as being able to survive in Menzoberranzan requires such of them. Moreover, he is a capable enough drow that Jarlaxle chose him to be at his side, rather than tending the bar at the Oozing Myconid. Yet, Arathis doesn't foresee any of what he should've known immediately, nor did he have a backup plan, which to a drow is something that one possesses as certainly as keen eyesight.

Barbarian

In the present timeline, Wulfgar suffers from the same treatment given Arathis, which is really saying something since Wulfgar's characterization has been all over the place even before his rebirth. Nonetheless, two things that Wulfgar is supposed to be, are one, a good guy if not a hero, and two, not dumb, if not intelligent. Yet, Wulfgar's portrayal in Boundless shows him as possessing none of these positive traits. For the first trait, it wouldn't be the first time that a member of the Companions of the Hall thought or performed something dishonorable. In Hero, this manifests as Regis and Wulfgar literally kicking people who were already down. In Boundless, Wulfgar is surprisingly nonchalant about the possibility of Kimmuriel committing casual murder, even hoping for it: 

The only thing that Calico Grimm is guilty of, that we're shown anyway, is being boisterous and foolish, which is hardly grounds deserving of death, unless it was early Artemis Entreri doing the adjudication. But this isn't early Artemis Entreri, or even current Artemis Entreri harboring such thoughts, it's Wulfgar, a returned hero. Calico Grimm might be obnoxious, but he's still a comrade in arms whose ship Wulfgar boarded. Even if it were the case that Calico Grimm is actually a pirate, one of the ne'er-do-wells that gives Luskan its shady reputation, it doesn't change the fact that they are on the same side. After all, the Companions of the Hall are supposed to stand for noble self sacrificing values like not randomly murdering people that are even temporarily on the same side as them. 

Not only is Wulfgar's moral compass unaligned with how it's supposed to be, apparently, the damage that he'd done to his brain during his The Spine of the World alcoholism managed to stay with him through the reincarnation. That, or Drizzt and his supposedly tight-knit group of friends aren't as close as they're made out to be. During Wulfgar's duel with the demon-possessed captain of the fleet besieging Luskan, Kimmuriel imbues Wulfgar with a psionic shield that absorbs all damage and releases it all at once at the absorber's will. It's the same mechanic that's been used countless times in the past, including but not limited to saving  newborn Jarlaxle from Matron Baenre's sacrificial dagger, preventing Calihye's blade from piercing an otherwise defenseless Entreri's heart, and, of course, allowing Drizzt to strike down Demogorgon with one hit. That last scenario is pretty monumental, and the kind of thing that Drizzt would've told his friends every detail of, for even if he didn't volunteer, surely they and others would've pried and pried about how he defeated Demogorgon. Yet, Wulfgar has no idea what's happening when his opponent's blows fail to scratch him. It's just mind-boggling that he doesn't make the connection, especially since psionicists are rare enough already in the Realms, even more so in Salvatore's corner of the Realms; Kimmuriel is literally the only psionicist that the Companions of the Hall know. Wulfgar's failure to put one and one together really leads me to wonder if the whole purpose of making him so obtuse is to perform yet more tedious review and Drizzt-flattering.

"Hero"

Most painful to me, of course, is Artemis Entreri, who only appears a bit more in Boundless than he does in Timeless, but what's done to him in Boundless is pretty bad. Entreri's characterization kicks off on the wrong foot from his entry in the Dramatis Personae section, which reads:

For the umpteenth time, Entreri would not have a concept of "friend", especially how it is presented in the Drizzt books. It's an oversimplification and kills the nuance of a character who would still have significant psychological scars and trust issues, even if he were truly and completely over his childhood traumas, which in itself is highly unlikely. I can forgive this bad summary of Entreri, but I can't overlook how, quite frankly, melodramatic, he's presented to be in Boundless. While the assassin seems to talk the talk, calling Regis a fool and ridiculing him for his naiveté, he definitely no longer walks the walk. The aura of intimidation that's so integral to his character no longer feels present. Entreri is quick to reassure Regis about the safety of Donnola, something that even his tempered down self seems unlikely to do. Regis and Entreri have history, and not all or even most of it was pleasant. It's as though Salvatore forgot that Regis found a helpless and broken Entreri dangling precariously from a branch, and rather than finishing him off quickly as would be the honorable thing to do, Regis stole Entreri's most prized possession, then cut him loose so that his final moments would be spent in fear and helplessness. One as fiercely protective of his own free will as is Entreri would not forget that so easily, and even if he doesn't actively hate the Companions of the Hall anymore, just as it makes sense that Regis is uncomfortable about the stub of his pinky that Entreri had inflicted on him in his previous life, Entreri should've let the little rat squirm before perhaps mentioning off the cuff that all the citizens of Bleeding Vines survived.

The worst thing done to Entreri in Boundless, however, is worse than the physical trials and travails that befall him. Given that the situation that ensnares him is that he's trapped in an unbreakable cocoon being stung on every mentionable (and unmentionable) part of his body by vicious demonic wasps, more and more I feel that it'd be best for Entreri if Salvatore just killed him off before ruining him more. While Entreri's plight is pretty dire, still, it doesn't seem like enough for him to launch into Drizzt journal entries' level of melodrama. Entreri has high levels of pain tolerance, as we've seen countless times in the past with him losing none of his agility or fighting prowess even after taking a blade through the ribs. Furthermore, the amount of psychological punishment he's endured far outweighs what he's gone through physically, such that he shouldn't resort to wishing for death right away, or cursing everyone, including himself, so quickly. I can maybe accept that he'd do so after a couple of tendays, but we only see him in the cocoon for a few days during Boundless. Furthermore, the impression given by how the pain is described in Boundless is significantly less than the pain that Herzgo Alegni inflicted upon Entreri by striking a tuning fork against Charon's Claw. It's more likely that someone of Entreri's discipline and willpower would've found some way to put his mind above the constant pain to focus on figuring out how to get out, if not simply detaching himself from the sensation. Instead, right from the get-go, the first soliloquy we see from him in the cocoon is:

In addition to being too weak, Entreri's portrayed as being too dependent. As a person who's lived twice as long as he should have and endured much more than his fair share of torment, one who is used to depending on no one save for himself, how quickly Entreri cries out for Dahlia, how quickly he wishes for death to be spared the pain, just doesn't fit. Instead it simply completes Salvatore's neutering process, now not only is Entreri a good guy, but he is no longer even a disciplined warrior. Salvatore's handling of Artemis Entreri is akin to what I'd said about Salvatore being not intelligent enough to write someone as brilliant as Jarlaxle. It's clear that Salvatore doesn't have enough understanding of trauma and physical pain thresholds to do justice to Entreri. 

Mother

Another poor characterization in Boundless has to do with Dahlia, who seems to have completely forgotten about Effron. Effron doesn't make an appearance, or is even so much as mentioned, despite some portion of the novel dedicated to the Hosttower of the Arcane, where he currently resides. While I can buy that Effron isn't significant enough for Gromph to even think of him when declaring the position the Hosttower will take, he is, or at least should be, important enough to Dahlia for her to at least think of him. The relationship between Dahlia and Effron might have started off at a badly, but throughout the entirety of the Neverwinter Saga, Dahlia is tormented by guilt over her son. Seeing what she believed to be the remains of Effron broke Dahlia's mind and will, causing the normally fiery and irrepressible elf to docilely accept being dragged away for further torture. Seeing that Effron was safe and being reunited him would've granted Dahlia closure, but closure doesn't mean that she wouldn't want to see him and be near him. We've seen that Dahlia tends to be very clingy to those she cares about, so it seems unlikely that she'd accept living in a different city from Effron. Given what Dahlia's like, she should be torn between her love for Entreri and her love for Effron, especially as the two male characters don't much care for each other and most certainly wouldn't want to live together, which Dahlia would likely prefer so that she can be close to both. It should be a cause for tension, not Dahlia simply following Entreri around like a pet, not that Entreri would've allowed that anyway. For all of his dislike of Effron and his brusqueness with the general populace, Entreri has shown himself to be extremely devoted to the women that he's loved. Just as he looked for Calihye after she tried to kill him and accepted her back into his life years later, Entreri would've made certain that Dahlia wouldn't be miserable choosing him over her son. 

[randomfandomimagine]

The Power Of Love (Thor/Loki x Reader)

Characters: Thor Odinson & Loki Laufeyson

Fandom: Marvel

Categories: Reader Insert, GenderNeutral!Reader, Love Triangle

Title: The Power Of Love

  Requested by (Heroes) anon:

So, this might be a bit odd but ive been getting back into friends recently. Could I get an imagine with Joey x reader x chandler where they're fighting over her but eventually they come to an arrangement and she "dates" them seperately. Pls make reader ace so nothing sexual. Just like, cuddles and kisses and fluff and stuff. I hope this is okay, if not, I'm really interested in a thor/loki x reader version of this same prompt so either or!! 

 A/N: I adore Loki, but he’s a very complex character and it’s the first time I’m writing an imagine for him so I apologize if he’s a bit out of character or if this isn’t the most accurate. I hope you all enjoy this anyway! :D Also, I thought that Y/N could be from Asgard and hence have a bit of a power herself.

I distinguished the distant figures of Thor and Loki. I rolled my eyes, because there they came again, arguing and nearly racing closer to me.

“Boys…” I began to say just as they childishly pushed each other, trying to hinder the other’s advance on their way to me.

“Y/N” Thor tried to say, but Loki pushed him out of the way.

I sighed tiredly, frustrated that the sons of Odin would behave like children.

“Y/N” Loki attempted himself, but Thor summoned Mjolnir and I knew he was about to use it to restrain his brother.

“Boys!” I exclaimed to get their attention, putting an end to their puerile bickering.

“Y/N” Thor took a step forward, carelessly shoving Loki without even looking. “We beg of you to put an end to this”

“Me?” I replied in outrage. “It is you two who started this stupid-“

“Choose one of us” Loki urged me, somehow avoiding his brother and standing next to him instead. “We will heed your decision, no matter which it is”

“Choose?” I was quite lost concerning my feelings for them. Perhaps I liked Thor, perhaps I preferred Loki. Or I may love them both. Nonetheless, it was impossible for me to choose. “I… I can’t…”

“Please” Quite cheekily, Thor held my hand in his. “We both love you, we can’t stand this any longer”

“How is that my fault?” It truly pained me that they were suffering because of me, but it really wasn’t my fault. “I never said anything to either of you about it, you only came to me one day expecting me to solve it”

“Do you not love us? At least one of us?” Loki intervened, his voice cautious.

“I-I do!”

“Then do it!”

They both started arguing again, and my patience was running thin.

“Alright!” I exclaimed putting an end to their shouting. “Thor, I-“

“Of course you would choose the mighty Thor” Loki didn’t let me finish, so I slid my hand from Thor’s as he turned to his brother.

“Do not listen to him, Y/N, he is trying to-“ Thor was about to make a point, but I would not allow that any longer.

“Enough!” Using my powers, I sent an overwhelming wave of emotions their way so they would stop talking. Finally, they remained silent and listened to me. “How about I have a date with each one of you and then decide, would you two stubborn men be okay with that?”

The two brothers exchanged a quick glance before turning back to me. They scowled and complained under their breaths.

“I suppose, if you want to waste your time…” Thor uttered, sulkily averting his gaze.

“If it’s really that hard a decision…” Loki rolled his eyes at his brother.

“Or maybe I will just walk away if you are to behave like children” I warned them, fed up with their attempts.

“Alright!” They both exclaimed at the same time.

“Who goes first?” I said to test them, hinting that I would not allow no more childishness.

“Me!” Thor was quick to say, grinning proudly that he was the first.

I glanced at Loki and I could read it in his eyes, how he was preparing for something mischievous, so I shook my head at him.

“No cheating” I told him too, eyeing him warily.

It took him a moment of hesitation, but then he nodded quietly to my request.

“Seems like you’re in a disadvantage, brother” Thor gloated, smirking at him.

“Alright, your smugness” I joked, holding on to his arm. “Let’s go”

*

We walked in silence, enjoying the wonderful view and the tranquility. Thor cautiously reached out to hold my hand and I allowed him with a small smile.

So far it had been a lovely date. We have chatted, flirted and enjoyed a delicious meal. Now, as we walked around Asgard, we stopped to watch the view and glanced at each other, serene, as we smiled.

“You are incredibly beautiful” Thor gingerly caressed my cheek, causing my smile to grow wider. I leaned into his hand, gently holding on to it, and his smile grew as well. “May I ask you a question, Y/N?”

“Yes?” As he retrieved his hand, I held on to it and we intertwined our fingers as our arms fell to our sides.

“Why do you not use your power?” His blue eyes were fixed on me, with such emotion and fondness that I got slightly flustered.

“Why do you use yours, Thor?” I said in return, tilting my head in feigned curiosity. Even without my power, I knew the answer before he uttered it.

“To help people, to protect them”

“Exactly, I can’t do that with mine”

“Yes, you can” Thor frowned, giving my hand a soft squeeze. “Can you read me?”

“Yes” I replied after a brief pause, gulping as I hadn’t used my power in a long time.

“What does it say about me?” His small smile let me know that it was okay for me to be completely honest.

I chuckled and nodded, allowing myself to use my power as he requested. I closed my eyes and let his aura engulf me and fill me with emotions, telling me everything I needed to know about him. When I opened them again, I found with his sweet glance, now filled with a hint of curiosity.

“That when you are Thor, you’re soft and kind under all that might” I told him, clinging on to his hand.

“But I am Thor”

“Exactly, only Thor. Not Thor Odinson, not the God of Thunder. Just Thor”

“See? You helped me, it is a power of love” Thor smiled, bringing his big hand up to caress my cheek again, ever so lightly.

I smiled back at him, realizing how much I trully enjoyed his company. His loving gestures and cares flattered me, they made me feel good and brought me happiness. Whenever I was around Thor, I felt a strong connection with him that had nothing to do with my power.

*

After my date with Thor, it was Loki’s turn. I was somewhat excited, intrigued by Loki’s mysterious behavior at times. I saw something special in him, something that his brother Thor did not have, something that no one I had ever met had. And I didn’t need my power to realize it, nor did it help me understand what made Loki special.

As we walked together in a comfortable silence, I looked up at him and caught a glimpse of a smirk plastered on his lips.

“What is on your mind?” I asked him, knowing him to be the god of mischief.

“Nothing” He dedicated me an innocent look that I nearly believed. “I’m just excited about our date”

Sometimes I felt like he could read my emotions and my aura. Maybe he just was extremely perceptive and used that to his advantage. Whatever the case, and unlike many people believed, I never felt manipulated by him, even if I wondered about it. Perhaps I was the only one not to be, or perhaps I was the only one not to believe he would.

“I know this may sound bad” I teased him, grinning as I rested a hand on his arm. “But I want no tricks or illusions today, Loki”

“Your wish is my command” He humbly bowed down to me, regardless of his mischievous grin.

I cocked an eyebrow, challenging him to disobey. To my surprise, he let out quite a soft chuckle. His eyes examined me attentively yet he said nothing before he looked away.

“You are special, Y/N” Loki suddenly said, much to my surprise.

“I could say the same thing about you” I cautiously said, curious by his sudden compliment.

It was then when something caught my eye as I noticed movement closely by my feet. A snake slithering on the ground.  Being unable to stop myself in time, I yelped and threw myself to Loki in an instinct, seeking his comfort and protection.

Our faces were mere inches from each other, and as I looked into his eyes, I saw a glint of fondness. However, there was a smug smirk on his mouth.

“I said no illusions!” I complained, still holding on to him.

“My apologies” He merely replied, softly.

“If you wanted to hold me, you could have just said it” I tested him, leaning further into him. His arm tightened around my waist. “There was no need for tricks”

“I can never read you, Y/N” Loki frowned, observing me carefully.

“Then allow me to help you” I didn’t move, I just let my aura intertwine with his so he could experience the emotions I conveyed.

Loki gasped, taken aback by the wave of feelings, and took a step back to distance himself from me. Perhaps it was his attempt to make me break the connection, so I did. Nonetheless, I was received with something unique that I etched in my memory. The look he gave me next was one I had never seen before, one solely filled with awe, love and vulnerability.

He gawked at me for a moment, slightly blushing as he found a difficulty in speaking his mind. He dared to gingerly hold my hand, which I gladly allowed.

“I… I apologize if I overwhelmed you” He sighed, now refusing to hold my glance. “It is only that everyone usually prefers Thor over me, and it hurt that you would too”

“I did not choose him, Loki” My words earned a cautious look from him. “I was just trying to get him to shut up for a moment”

Loki smiled, and I began giggling at the amused yet astonished expression his face bore. After a brief moment, he broke too and began laughing with me.

We had stopped walking, and as our laughter slowly died down, our eyes locked. Our palms were still pressed together, and his thumb gingerly caressed the back of my hand. I smiled, for the first time recognizing on the inside what I had always seen within him.

“There is softness in you, Loki” I leaned in, dangerously close to him. “You and Thor are not so different after all”

“We are” Loki retaliated, even if his voice was as soft as velvet and barely a whisper.

“No, for you both hide your kindness behind a façade” The intensity with which our eyes met sent butterflies to my stomach and I immediately knew what came next.

I didn’t have to tell Loki, I didn’t even question if he would do it himself. I did not need my power to read him, and this time he didn’t need his to read me. We both moved at the same time, connecting our lips in a blissful exchange.

Loki’s arm reclaimed its place around my waist, gently guiding me closer to him until I rested against his torso. My arms fell around his neck, deepening the embrace as the kiss grew more passionate and his hand sunk in my hair.

When our lips separated, our eyes met once more. His glance held many emotions, one of which was, without a doubt, adoration.  His hand moved to my chin, which he lovingly cupped as his eyes dropped to my mouth again.

“If we are so similar, did you find it difficult to make a choice?” There was something intoxicating in his voice that directed my attention towards his lips again as well.

“I realize… I had already made a choice a long time ago” I smiled widely, overwhelmed by a new sensation, a pleasant one. “I just didn’t admit it to myself”

“And well?”

“I did not kiss Thor, what does that tell you?”

Loki showed me his mischievous wide grin, and I giggled as he attracted me even closer to him and attacked my lips again.

Tagging: @xionroxas, @dancewaterdance02, @bobatea-bi, @vintagerose98, @thisismysecrethappyplace, @fandomnerdsarecool, @c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader,@fortheloveofbenyandtom​, @suenami3, @trunks-kiwi, @welcome-here-in-my-world, @caswinchester2000, @agent-prophecy

[abbychapman-blog1]

Unsettling “Humans of New York”

Link to Article: https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/stephaniemcneal/humans-of-new-york-photo-man-set-on-fire-disturbing

Being a photographer myself, more specifically a street photographer, ive always looked up to people like Brandon Stanton. The brilliant man who created “Humans of New York” has inspired me for many years as I continue to follow along with the intriguing stories he tells with his photos. Along with being a very talented photographer, he is also able to share people’s stories with the world, which I have always thought was interesting. He has and will continue to be one of my biggest photography inspirations.

However, in early July he posted one of the most controversial “Humans of New York” articles I have ever read. Since then the instagram post has been taken down but the message that was written still stands out in my mind as being quite horrific. The internet is the internet after all and once something is posted, it is up there forever.

The article reads, “You could make a horror movie about my life. My mom died of cancer when I was five, and my father tortured me. I mean tortured. Really tortured. Chained me to a chair. Slapped me with leather. It was like Jack Nicholson in ‘The Shining.’ Every single day. He’d never say a thing. He’d just kick down my door and come after me. I was born into hell. I spent twelve years alone with a demonic presence. And now I’m nervous. Really nervous. I play the piano to calm myself down. I always have these thoughts they aren’t even my thoughts: fat fuckers, fucking bastards, fuck all of them. They’re my father’s thoughts. The violence is inside of me. My energy is black, black, black. I used to kill little birds when I was a kid. Then I moved on to cats. By the time I was seventeen I was beating the shit out of everybody. Bigger than me, taller than me, I didn’t care. It was more torture to keep it inside. If I kept the violence inside I’d mutilate myself. Suicide myself. A few years ago I set a guy on fire. It was 3 AM. He was passed out beneath a bridge. Just some druggie. I didn’t feel a thing. I felt like laughing. If anything, I felt free.”

Buzzfeed news wrote an article strongly disagreeing and showing much criticism towards Brandon’s choice about posting the story. They feel that the story was inappropriate and should not have been published. Many people’s tweets mentioned in the article voice their concerns about someone who is potentially dangerous just walking free around New York.

Now don’t get me wrong, I have talked to my fair share of strange people on the streets of various cities like Downtown Toronto, however, this takes the cake. I enjoy listening to people’s life stories and giving feedback or simply just writing it down to publish later but this is something totally different. I’m sure Brandon Stanton was absolutely shocked as this anonymous man shares his story and wanted to share it along with his other “Humans of New York” stories. However, I’m torn on whether I think he made the right decision or not.

On one hand, there is no real way to know if the man was telling the truth. I once photographed and talked to a man sitting outside of the Toronto Eaton Centre who after telling me about his life, proceeded to explain that he had a bomb inside of him. Now although this is a very different situation, I still wrote about his story even though I couldn’t be certain anything he told me was true. I know that the part about the bomb was false but there is no way for me to know whether anything else he said was a lie. Similarly to this, Brandon Stanton has no way of knowing if anything this man was saying is fact or fiction. It would be a pretty strange and elaborate story to make up but you never know.

Now my second point is that I think that Brandon should not have posted this man’s story. Whether it was true or false, the story is very shocking. Reading this could be very frightening and disturbing as the man explains the joy of him killing someone else. If I were Brandon Stanton in this situation I would definitely have a tough decision on my hands about whether or not I should publish such a graphic story. However, I think I would have taken this story to the police to handle instead of posting it for his large audience to see.

I still have much respect for Brandon Stanton as a photographer and as a human, but I think he could have made a better decision on whether to post the story or not. I would have made a different decision about posting it but I still respect his artistic decision about posting it even though it is controversial. I will always find his bravery in posting people’s stories to be very admirable. Even when the content is unsettling, I think anyone’s story is worth telling.

[legion1993]

To Find What You Were Missing, Is Like Seeing Your Own Heart

title:  To Find What You Were Missing, Is Like Seeing Your Own Heart

square: soulmates

pairing: jared x reader

rating: G (its alot more tame than anything else ive written for this challenge)

tags: maybe some language (i cant actually remember if there is any in there)

plot: its a surprise

created for @spnkinkbingo 

kink masterlist

To hear someone say that soulmates weren’t real at one point you would have agreed with them, but that fateful day when a mark appeared on your arm made you question everything you had thought fiction…

You were writing your latest book, you were a well known author, but you also loved loved loved Supernatural… this book happened to take you across the country to the southern areas to be specific, this took you to San Antonio, Texas… you had a feeling inside you nudging you to go there… you didn’t know why, you didn’t know what was going on…

Sitting in this little coffee shop, you plugged in your laptop, you were in this quiet little booth with plugs and everything, you opened your computer and of course that’s when it happned, you heard this voice it shook your soul, you never in a million years thought you would ever have the opportunity to hear it in person…

The conversation you heard went something like this (*and it was music to your ears but something inside you leapt up everytime it sounded…*):

Jared: “dude why would a girl like her be into me like that, she looks like she is a writer of some kind the way she is pouring herself into whatever she is doing on her laptop…”

Jared and Jensen take another look at the logos and things attached to your bag and your laptop… one in particular that sticks out to them is something they see every single week…

Jared: “I think that girl is…”

Jensen: “but what the hell would she be doing here…”

Jared then gets this nudging feeling, to which he orders another Java and brings it to you… Jensen following right on his tail…

Jared: “excuse me…”

You snapped out of your writing extravaganza to turn and see Jared & Jensen standing behind you… you smild at them and ushered for them to join you… that’s when the conversation of a lifetime started…

Y/N: “thank you for the java I really needed this…”

Jared: “its my pleasure say I have to ask the logos on your bag and your laptop are you perchance the famous expose writer whose gone to everywhere that supernatural has and written a piece on the town and its history as per to the show.?.”

You opened your laptop and went to your page logo and you turned your laptop to face them and they read it but what they saw was this….

Jared: “that’s amazing!!!! We cant believe we are meeting the one person who wrote this amazing expose on a panel we did, it was a very very intense article…”

Jensen: “can we ask you to write an exclusive for us?”

You were a little taken back by what you were getting asked, you were getting asked by both Jared and Jensen to write an exclusive interview with them right now…

You pulled up your laptop and pulled out 2 of the interview mics that you had in your bag you gave one to each of them… you all sat in that coffee shop and all you could do was smile as you set up the recording program so you could write the points later…

Y/n: “this is the first celeb interview im doing bare with me gentlemen…”

It was then that you started the recording….

Y/N: “whats up everyone in my travels I am currently in San Antonio Texas… I started by sitting in a coffee shop and writing but right now I am sitting with 2 of the stars off the hit tv show Supernatural… I know the answer to this cause I ask this everytime I go live like this but does anyone out there believe in fate, cause I do… its not everyday anyone gets to meet 2 of their celeb crushes at the same time… I mean sorry guys….”

Jared and Jensen smiled and laughed but everytime you looked at the guys Jared’s eyes just lingered on your features… you found yourself staring at him a lot more than you should…

Jared: “we take it as an honor to be interviewed by the person who speaks the truth in everything she writes…”

Y/N: “my first question is do you guys believe in fate?”

Jensen: “absolutely, when doing any kind of job or work you need to believe that anything that happens, happens for a reason… that reason is usually explained best through fate…”

Jared: “of course cause I think fate is speaking to me right now…”

You were intrigued…

Y/N: “what do you feel fate saying to you right now Jared?”

Jared: “I feel like she is nudging at me to take you on a tour of somewhere you have never been…”

Y/N: “I would be honored to go on a tour of a place ive never been before… but now my next question is do you guys find yourselves honing into your inner Dean and Sam on a daily basis.?.”

Jared: “I find im constantly channeling Sam and sometimes ill notice it when I am sitting and doing reading for something or even when im hanging out with Jensen at the gun range we will both channel Sam and Dean just in our competitive nature… but yes I do…”

Jensen: “hell yes… I channel dean constantly… Jared is right though if we are being competitive we are channeling our inner Winchester… but that’s ok cause its what led us to come talk to you…”

You couldn’t help but giggle a bit before smiling and looking at them…

Y/N: “do you guys have a favorite quote from the show that you guys apply to your daily lives? If so can you guys say it as you did in the show?”

Jensen: “a wise man once told me, ‘family don’t end in blood.’ But it don’t start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family is there, for the good, bad, all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts. That’s family.”

Jensen then laughed and ushered for Jared to do his…

Jared: “it doesn’t matter what you are. It only matters what you do. Its your choice.”

Y/N: “can each of you tell me what the quote means to you personally and how you hope it speaks to your fans.?.”

Jensen: “my quote obviously is when Dean is quoting Bobby is season 10 episode 17 but personally for me this quote means no matter who your actual family is, you will still have family amidst the people you choose to surround yourself with… to my fans I hope this quote lets you guys know that even your closest friends can be your family, family isn’t defined by blood it doesn’t end there either it is defined by those that we surround ourselves with in hopes of making a happy life for ourselves…”

Jared: “personally this quote is basically a weapon if im being told I cant be something, profession wise or whatever cause im me… I immediately start repeating this quote and it speaks to those figurative demons that are trying to put me down… to the fans I hope this quote will help you guys fight those figurative demons as it did me…”

Y/N: “one last question before we wrap up here, you guys play some incredible people on tv but a lot of the fights on the show are very impactful to a lot of people, do you guys have a favorite fight scene? If so state the episode number and briefly describe the fight scene if you guys don’t mind.?.”

Jensen: “we don’t mind at all sugar… the episode im coming out of season 9 episode 23, to briefly sum it up but most of us know what happened… to sum it up in 9x23 we obviously have the big showdown between the boys and Metatron, after a long tedious battle between dean and Metatron.. well ok let me make this sound a lot better than it already is gonna… earlier in season 9 we witnessed Dean procur the mark of cain and the first blade fro Cain himself... that however was just in hopes of defeating Abbadon, but now we are finding out that the Mark of Cain orders its host to kill, although in Dean’s case it would ultimately be his downfall… for we see just before the battle between Metatron and Dean we see a scene between Dean and Sam at the impala as they are gearing up, but dean knocks Sam unconscious and appligizes before walking away the first blade in hand, but the first bit of the fight is just metatron taunting dean and dean making sure that metatron knew he was a douche… but right at the moment Dean was about to attack metatron swooped in and started beating on Dean… this fight scene is my favorite for many reasons one of the main reasons being you get to see more of that brotherly love coming out of the relationship between Sam and Dean when Sam walks in on Metatron stabbing Dean… this scene is what set the course obviously for season 10, obviously it set the course for a lot of things… but right at that moment, it touched me, it strikes several cords with me everytime I watch it…”

Y/N: “I agree I mean when I watched this episode for the first time I could tell that something bad was gonna happen, but there was something inside me that snapped when I watched Dean get stabbed, it was like a part of me broke, then watching the chaos ensue, as Crowley put the blade in Dean’s dead lifeless hand, and say his little speech made me panic… but anyway im getting emotional… Jared what about you.?.”

Jared: “umm for me this is a tough one cause watching everything again after its been released or been filmed strikes cords but the scene that shoke me the most happened at the end of Season 13 in the finale where dean finally says yes to Michael and kicks lucifers ass, that’s power but what made that emotional I guess was the fact that part of me was channeling my inner Sam Winchester when I rewatched the premiere of that episode… It made me think about all the shit Sam & Dean had already gone through but now to have themselves being separated once more made things all the harder… but when I compare how close Sam and Dean are with how close Jensen & I are it makes things that much easier, it just puts everything into perspective… to say that this scene didn’t strike several cords with me would be a lie… its like watching your brother or family member or best friend do something that for the longest time either people have tried to get them to do or that they have been saying they wouldn’t do finally do that thing and everything suddenly become a lot worse for wear…”

You wiped your eyes a bit at the thought of the only other episode that made you yell and cry for hours… you were not sure of anything except that Jared was the hottest thing besides your coffee that you had seen or had in your sighs all day…

Y/N: “that was very traumatic, it was heartbreaking but gentlemen I want to thank you both personally for speaking with me here in this humble little coffee shop, but I also want to personally say how thankful I am that you guys would notice someone so small as me, and take the time to sit in this coffee shop and speak with me… I want you guys to know that it was a true honor to talk to both of you.”

Jensen: “no Y/N thank you for writing so many wonderful expose’s on the conventions and our panels, for the fans who cant be there in person. Its you who brings joy to everyone with your articles, its us who should be thankful to meet you and speak with you…”

Jensen took notice of everything that was going on and all the tension in the room, he under the table on his side nudged Jared who then proceeded to speak…

Jared: “I hope im not being too forward but would u consider having dinner with me sometime? Maybe even tonight…”

You at this time didn’t realize that you were still recording, but you suddenly started blushing not realizing that no words were coming out of your mouth…

Y/N: “tonight sounds good, umm what time and where?”

Jared took a few seconds and wrote down his address on a napkin where you did the same thing on a different napkin except it was your phone number that you wrote down. You slid it to him as he did for you and you smiled knowing that at somepoint after this you might have to find something to wear that isn’t jeans and a shirt.

Jared: “ill give you a text later! Jensen, we have to go meet Danneel and Misha for the last minute details for the flight patterns for shooting…”

Jensen: “of course I guess ill see you around Y/N…”

Jared comes round to you and kisses your cheek, you make a lot of details like how his lips felt against your skin, how much your head was singing, but you sat there for a while longer watching as those 2 gorgeous men left out the door, and got into their car which drove away.

Y/N (to self): “oh my god, im gonna be having dinner with Jared Padalecki, Oh My God I left my recorder on… that’s not a good thing… im not sure how much it caught but oh well at least ill always have the tape as a reminder of the greatest day or my life…”

Jared and Jensen were silent on their drive but it was not too far along before Jared lets out a calm sigh…

Jensen: “what are you thinking about?”

Jared: “the smile on her face, the glow in her eyes, the way she giggles… god I feel so alive…”

Jensen: “what you said about the fate question… where did that answer come from?”

Jared shrugs before answering…

Jared: “to tell you the truth im not sure, It just came out, it happened… I don’t know it came from my heart….”

Jensen: “I think she is your soulmate… did it feel like your heart was gonna leap right out of your chest?”

Jared: “yes it did, it also felt like the sweetest thing ever, her scent made me feel so feather light…”

Jensen: “its love that’s forsure but its also possible that she is your soulmate.”

This left Jared pondering about this the entire drive to meet up with Danneel and Misha… but something else had stuck with him, something made him text you, something made him start a text conversation, and send messages… but something stopped him from sending them while in the car. Maybe it was the fact that Jensen was right there, or the fact that they were driving to meet their collegues, or whatever it was he decided to put it off…

You however were packing up your shit, you had transposed the interview recording into a nice newsletter, you were somewhat of a fast typer when it came to this shit… maybe it was your heart beating so fast inside of your chest or maybe it was your head spinning so fast it felt like it might fall off, but you felt something stir you..

You left the shop and went to this thrift shop, to try and find something to wear… while browsing the racks upon racks of clothes you couldn’t find anything that tickled your fancy till you brushed through another rack and found something that looked kinda dangerous and totally sexy but you wondered if you would feel like yourself in it, so you decided to take it and try it on, what was the worst that would happen…

You were in the dressing room and you slid into that dress, you instantly felt empowered! It was a one long sleeve with a cold shoulder cut out and a sexy side cut out in black and it was the most gorgeous thing you ever in your life had tried on. You felt like yourself but you also felt sexy… you knew tonight would be special it didn’t technically matter what you wore, but you were getting this regardless of your inner conscience…  you took the dress off and put your clothes back on, you grabbed your bag and the dress and left the change room.  You went to the teller and checked out, you had shoes that would go with it, and you didn’t care that Jared would be taller it made it all the more fun…

You left the thrift store and headed back to your motel and waited patiently to hear from Jared…  it was while you were in the middle of eating lunch that you phone dinged saying you got a text message. By the end of this conversation it went something like this…

you instantly knew you had made the right choice in buying that dress, however you got a pit of butterflies in you stomach at the thought of the dinner being only a few hours away, you looked at the directions to where Jared had written down for you, when you looked at the map it said it was only 45 minutes away… you decided that you would leave a bit earlier to save time and incase you got lost as well…

Soon it was time to get ready you put on the dress after of course taking a shower slipping into the hidden nipple covers (cause bras are uncomfortable) and put in the supports to make your boobs pop… but something else was wrong, you didn’t know it right then but something was wrong, or maybe it wasn’t wrong but something changed in you as you stared at yourself in the mirror, you grabbed your little black bag, stuck your license and phone inside grabbing your keys you left the hotel room… heading down the interstate you arrived in plenty of time…

You were so nervous, you didn’t even see what was right near your eyes… which was this huge gate, I mean this really big gate, you saw an intercom on the left side, well I mean closest to you… you pressed it, and waited a few seconds…

Jared: “hello…”

Y/N: “hey its me… its Y/N.”

Jared: “hey come on in just park infront of the house…”

You went through the gate once it opened, you drove nice and slow making sure to take in every bit of scenary… that’s when you got to this loop, you went around it and parked the car in front of the house. You got out and suddenly felt overwhelmed, you were so nervous your knees were quivering but you bucked up your courage and went up the stairs and to the door.

Jared was at the door instantly before you could even ring the bell, you were starring into the face of a man who not only had you just met but that also had asked you out all in the same day… he welcomed you inside where he then held out his arm for you as he started to lead you through his extensive house…

Jared: “so tonight we are having chicken parmigiana I hope that’s ok with you… but ya this is my place…”

Y/N: “can I level with you for a moment?”

Jared: “of course…”

Y/N: “im actually a little nervous about this, I mean this is like my first date in well ever…”

Jared: “I know what you mean… but at least we can figure this out ourselves… together…”

You nod and take a slight breath as you start telling him about how the article went like how it turned out, how much love it got already, how you felt about it, how you felt while writing it, then you noticed something, a gleam in his eyes, something that sparked his curiousity, something that sparked your curiousity, you didn’t know why but your heart suddenly felt lik it was gonna jump right out of your chest. Jared had you sit at the table while he went to dish up the dinner, you sat there waiting patiently… the smell of food coming your way, then he came back into view…

Jared: “alright be careful its hot, but its ready and smells incredible…”

Y/N: “it smells amazing Jared, thank you…”

Jared sat down right in front of you and you felt something within you leap out and with that came some words, but in the form of a question, one that you didn’t know where it came from cause you weren’t thinking about that at all…

Y/N: “jared during the interview I noticed that you took a few stolen glances and that you couldn’t take your eyes off me… but I know im not the only one that feels this sudden and I mean very sudden spark between us… please tell me im not going crazy and I think ill sleep better at night…”

Jared: “your not crazy Y/N, I feel it too, I felt it ever since first seeing you in that café before Jensen and I approached you, before that interview, my heart has been feeling different its like somethings happening, somethings between us obviously but what is it…”

Y/N: “do you think anyone else in the café picked up on what we were feeling? or was it just us?”

Jared shrugged but then remembering back to the car ride with Jensen who had clearly mentioned what his theory which seemed to fit the bill and everything you guys were feeling…

Jared: “Jensen did stop me dead in my tracks in the car after we left the café, he thinks that we are soulmates, only to the effect of he went through the same thing with his wife… he knows what he is talking about, but I wonder right now if the way we are feeling is just really good timing or if its just fate working her magic…”

You shrugged and took a bite of your food, but didn’t have a clue as to the events to follow…

Y/N: “I think he is right…”

Jared: “what makes you say that?”

Y/N: “well im an investigative journalist by trade and my instincts are as sharp as a double edged sword, but something shoke me the moment I entered San-Antonio, it was like the wind was gonna push my car over or something cause on the way here I felt the same thing, it felt just like my heart does now… it feels..”

Jared: “does it feel like its gonna jump right out of your chest?”

Y/N: “does your breathing feel like its gonna get hitched in your throat everytime you go to speak…”

Jared: “do you have this sudden desire to just be right close to eachother…”

You didn’t move right away before watching Jared forsake the food, forsake the chair and the table, as he walked over to you and upon reaching you he wrapped you in his embrace and kissed you with a passion that could make fireworks… and it felt like neither of you were empty anymore, it was like you were whole, you were more whole than you had been in your entire lives…

Jared: “will you stay here, with me, tonight…”

You nod and the rest is a blur of passionate love and romance…

[cycm]

Lanan (pts 3 and 4)

1 and 2 are here

III

“Lanan!” a voice behind me whispered, “ye kno if ye furrah ya brow like ‘at too much it stays that way, aye?”

“Alanson,” I joked, “if that were true, your face would be stuck in a smile larger than the galaxy.”

“Aye, girl. I’ll give ye that. Almost done with that paperwork there, I see?”

“That I am. Does Chief want to see me?”

“Aye,” he replied, “that she does. Says it’s fer a special mission.”

“A special mission?” I asked, intrigued.

“Aye.” He said, disappearing down the hall before I could find out exactly what he meant by that.

Making my way to Chief’s office, my mind wandered again to earlier days before I had been given my body. I thought back to the day I had met Sol Alanson.

Back then, I was obsessed with distracting myself from my body. The alienation from my own body was crippling, and the virtual world was where I felt real again.

I mostly spent my time in fantasy worlds. They were a contrast to the nearly endless cityscape I lived in. Lush, green, and full of wonders only closely matched by the outside world.

Alanson had joined me one day, long ago, when my party made a call asking for new adventurers to join us. In game he played a lightning thrower, a Mage subclass whose primary role was high damage output to enemies, but the drawback of the class was that it was highly aim intensive at longer ranges, and it was hard to gear up properly for close-range fights since all the Mage gear was specced for far away combat and high mana.

He balanced this, a small amount, by playing a Dwarf. A short, stocky race whose primary benefit was higher health and greater health gains at higher levels. It was a novel concept and actually served him quite well. He became a mainstay in the party and eventually one of my closest friends.

Eventually, as it does, the topic came up of meeting in real life. I protested, but he was insistent. He had known me for years now, he reminded me, so I begrudgingly accepted.

It turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.

Normally, when one plays VR games, especially open world fantasy games, they do not play themselves. When I met Alanson for the first time outside of the game, I was surprised to meet an actual dwarf.

His eyes were a bright blue, almost crackling with lightning, and his large beard dominated his short frame. He wore tech across his arms that crackled and popped with electricity, armored silver gauntlets and pauldrons that drew attention for miles.

“You’re a bit shorter than I imagined,” was all I could get out when I first saw him.

“Aye. ‘N yer a bit moore depressed than I imagined,” he responded, cracking a smile.

I chuckled in response. “Ass,” I joked. “It’s good to see you, friend.”

“And you, family. I’d like to offer ya a job.”

The rest, however, is history. I accepted, after much convincing. Alanson had a way with words. I imagine this was his way of helping me. I certainly appreciate it.

IV

“Your special mission,” Chief had said, “is to recruit Sheryl Discorsia Disenda. She is known as one of the galaxy’s most powerful psychics, born into a family of them on a planet of them, but with a defect that makes her ‘third eye’ open all the time. She hears voices from many lightyears away, constantly. Your goal is to seek her out, and ask her to join our task force. Any questions?”

After I had said I didn’t, she handed me a dossier, full of information on this woman. I decided to try and meet her as organically as possible, so I skipped reading most of it, aside from a few key points of information.

She was a loner, and stayed in her apartment most of the time. Normally this would be a problem, except it seemed that she would frequently go to a nearby park to walk once a week or so.

The plan, then, would be to get her attention at the park. Thankfully, it was hard to miss her with her wiry frame towering above most other people. My only problem was with her tech augments. It appeared as if she was constantly wearing headphones. How would I get her attention, then?

I met her on a windy day. The park was relatively empty, and a light frost coated the grass there. I quite liked the park, so I had established a routine there already by walking dogs and idly playing a few sports.

She seemed to glide up to me, approaching me instead of me needing to approach her. “I’m curious,” she began, “and pardon me if this is insensitive, but I see you out here all the time, regardless of what the weather is. How do you stand this cold?”

“If you must know,” I said, “it’s because I have a fully augmented body. The only part of me that remains human is my mind.” I tapped on my forehead. “What about you? You don’t seem to be fully augmented, so how do you stand the weather?”

“Well,” she replied, “I’ve got some augments, but they’re a bit different than what most people have.” She brought her arm up and pulled the sleeve of her hoodie back to reveal jagged, black veins running up her arm. “These augments,” she said, tracing up her arm with her finger, “are designed specifically to dull my senses.” She turned around and showed me the back of her neck, which was completely black, her features given greater definition by the jagged machinery. “They cover my entire body,” she said as she turned back, pointing to the headphones covering her ears. “Everywhere from my head,” she brought her hand down past her torso to point at her legs, “to my feet. I was born unable to control my psychic abilities, and so if I were to lose my augments some way, I would be overwhelmed with others thoughts, sensations, and memories. As I am now, however, my power has been localized down to only being able to speak with others. Effectively, I am deaf and I cannot feel anything in my own body. That is why the cold doesn’t bother me, I simply cannot feel it.”

“That’s fascinating,” I said. “What a wonderful story you must have to tell. What’s your name?”

“I am Sheryl. And you are?”

“Lanan. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sheryl.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, also, Lanan.”

“Say,” I said, “I’m a bit hungry. Care to join me for lunch?"

She stared for a moment, her pale face almost glowing like moonlight despite the sun shining brightly. “I suppose we could chat over lunch. I’m not very hungry though, so I hope you don’t mind if I don’t get anything.”

“Fair’s fair. I know a cozy place nearby we can relax at.”

So, we talked for a while as I ate, and she merely sipped on some water. We became fast friends, talking much about our lives and our hobbies. Eventually she mentioned that she was looking for something to take her mind off of things, so I told her that my boss was actually searching for new people. Surprisingly, she agreed to meet Chief. Shortly thereafter, we had a new recruit join our team.