#there is also a line about leaving them in their natural habitat and not usually keeping them as pets-which understandable

[baekuras]

Currently re-reading up on my still little for it’s species housespider so I know where to best let them out because they did outgrow the bathroom and decided to wander onto the ceiling of my bedroom which...I don’t want them hiding in corners here, it’ll only end badly for both of us

And one of the first lines is about them being solitary spiders The very first time I met them was in my old homes basement and there were at least 3 to 4 at any given time-are you SURE?

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒐

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: I can't say I'm overly happy with this chapter, but I rewrote it a gazillion times. I hope it's okay, and it's a good healthy dose of The Bloodline in their natural habitats lol. Also, I would just like to thank everyone for the support on the first chapter. Makes me feel all mushy inside gah. <3

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup

(let me know if you want to be tagged in future Roman fics)

Some may call it a mansion. To Roman, it was simply home. He never understood why having a large house, albeit accommodating necessary facilities, constituted being pompous. When he first bought the house, he knew his family would be joining him, so why not go all out? A gym, a shooting range, a pool… it had everything he needed to continue being the Head of the Table.

He pushed open the heavy mahogany doors, the familiar creak announcing their arrival. The grandeur was unmistakable—high ceilings, oak chandeliers, adorned walls with art he’d brought with him from the family’s storage unit back in Florida.

The twins flanked Roman, their almost identical features set in pure fatigue, as their younger brother brought up the rear. Jimmy dropped his tie and jacket onto the marble-tiled floor. “Man, I thought that shit would never end.”

Jey followed suit, collapsing onto a plush leather couch once the group entered the living space. “Tell me about it. These events are always the same, just a bunch of wannabes tryna impress.”

Roman loosened his tie, heading straight for the bar that lined the back of the room. “Yeah, but it’s necessary. We gotta show face, let ‘em know we still run things.”

Jey glanced at Jimmy with a raised eyebrow, before turning his head to look back at his cousin. “We ain’t run shit tonight. You see the Russians were there? They run this shit, Uce.”

“For now,” Solo added, wandering over to one of the windows that overlooked the sprawling greenery of the estate’s garden.

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout “for now”, man, they shady as fuck,” Jey insisted with a small “pshh,” throwing his hands up. “I don’t trust ‘em, never have, never will.”

“Nah, Solo’s right,” Roman pointed out, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “They can’t be in charge forever. Besides…” he took a sip, the amber liquid burning his throat in a familiar, comforting way, “Their family ain’t as big as it used to be. If anythin’, we got numbers. But right now, we ain’t got a problem with ‘em.”

“And that means they ain’t got a problem with us? C’mon, man–”

“Jey,” Roman interrupted, lowering his glass and veering over to where his cousins lounged. “There’s no problem between us and the Volkovs right now. And I intend to keep it that way.” His words were carefully emphasised, dropping the lax cadence for one of assertion. “So if you don’t mind,” he loosened the tension in his shoulders, rolling them once, “I’m gonna go call my babygirl.”

“Ah, tell her I said hi,” Jimmy quickly got in before Roman could leave for the staircase.

“And me!” Jey leaned over the back of the couch.

Roman sighed lightly, turning on his heel to look at the twins, and then over at Solo, who still has his gaze fixated outside.

“Him too,” Jey spoke for Solo, the latter sending him a sideways glance and eventually looking at Roman with a small nod of confirmation.

“It’s like livin’ with a bunch of kids, seriously…” Roman muttered as he turned and headed upstairs to his office, all whilst hearing the usual discourse from Jey about being hungry and neglecting to ask if anyone else wanted something as he strolled off into the kitchen.

Once the door to his office was shut, Roman took a moment to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, and letting it all back out, feeling every ounce of strain leave his body in the process. Hey, he needed it to make room for the other strain in his life to take its place.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time—just early enough to risk a call without Maria causing a fuss.

So, he dialled the number he so wished didn’t have such an important place in his seemingly endless list of contacts, hoping the only person he wanted to talk to was still awake. And that he didn’t need to have a ridiculous back and forth with the owner of said number.

Thankfully, Maria must have known the reason for Roman’s call, so when the FaceTime ringtone cut out, it was replaced with a small, sleepy voice. “Daddy?”

Roman’s face softened instantly, a rare smile spreading across his lips. “Hey, Princess. You still up?”

Ava nodded, her eyes heavy and on the verge of unintentionally closing. “I wanted to wait for you to come home.”

“I’m here now, baby… How was your day?” Roman asked, settling into an armchair.

“It was okay. Mommy let me watch a movie, but I missed you…”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” Roman felt his heart aching with the guilt he possessed for not always being there to see his daughter enjoy her childhood. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

Ava’s face brightened the best it could in her sleepiness, yawning as she spoke the words Roman could never get enough of. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you more, Ava. And so does your Uncle Jimmy. And Jey. And Solo. You are loved so much, Princess, and don’t you ever forget it.”

It was impossible to miss Ava’s subtle glance to the side, signalling that she wasn’t alone.

“Mommy wants me to go to bed now, Daddy.”

“She’s right, baby. Can’t be havin’ you all tired at school tomorrow, can we?”

“No,” Ava replied with a small, but sad smile.

“You get some sleep now… And pass the phone to Mommy for me, baby.”

“Okay… Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

There was a lot of shuffling on the other end, and for a moment a black screen as Ava passed the phone back to Maria. Roman’s features were already hardening again, knowing what was coming next. It was almost instantly that his stomach twisted in disdain once the face of his ex-wife appeared on the screen. She was retreating from Ava’s bedroom to find a place that didn’t disturb the 6-year-old.

“Roman,” Maria’s voice was cool and clipped.

“Maria,” Roman replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. “We need to talk about Ava.”

“Oh, now you wanna talk about her? Convenient.”

Roman rubbed at his temples, already feeling the headache coming on. “Maria, this isn’t about us. It’s about our daughter.”

“Is it? Because it feels like you’re trying to undermine my parenting every chance you get.”

“I’m not undermining shit, I just want to be more involved.”

“Well, flying off to meetings and dealing with your ‘business’ isn’t exactly father of the year material.”

“Don’t start this crap, Maria, you know I’m doin’ my best.”

“Your best? Your best would be staying out of trouble and being there for her.”

Roman’s jaw tightened. “I am there for her. You’re the one makin’ it difficult.”

“Oh, please, spare me the victim routine, Reigns. You’ve never been there when it counted.”

“That’s not fair,” Roman snapped, his patience wearing thin. “I’ve always done what I could.”

“What you could? Roman, what you could was never enough. You’re too wrapped up in your own world to see what’s right in front of you!”

He closed his eyes, trying to rein in his temper. “And I’m trying to change that. I want to be better for my babygirl.”

“Then let’s start by respecting the fact that she needs stability. Not the chaos that follows you everywhere.”

“I am stable, Maria. My life, my work—it’s all under control.”

“Is it? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like a fucking mess.”

Roman gripped the arm of the chair, his knuckles whitening. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Aw, don’t I? I lived that life with you, stronzo, I know exactly what’s going on.”

Hell, here come the Italian insults…

“Then you should already know that I’m doin’ everythin’ I can to keep that little girl safe! Damn.”

“Actions speak louder than words. And your actions? They’re not convincing anyone. Least of all me. So,” her voice switched to a sickly, patronising sweetness, “If you want to continue seeing your “babygirl,” you’ll get your head outta your ass and do something about it. We could start by respecting the mother of your child, how ‘bout that one?”

“Respecting the mother of my child?” Roman repeated sarcastically. “I do respect you, but respect goes both ways. You gotta respect that I’m her father and I want to be in her life.”

“Oh, really? Is that what you call it?” Maria snapped back, her eyes narrowing on the screen. “All you do is throw money at her and expect that to make up for your absence. She needs a father, not a fucking ATM.”

“I’m more than that, and you know it. I’m tryin’, Maria. But you make it impossible. You twist everything I do into something negative.”

Maria let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You think this is about me twisting things? Nah, this is about you being a shitty father. You’re never there. You’re too busy playing the big shot, running your little empire, while Ava is left wondering why her daddy doesn’t care enough to be there.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Roman’s voice rose. “I love Ava more than anything. I’m doin’ all this for her. To make sure she has everything she needs!”

“Love? You call this love?” Maria shot back, her voice icy. “Love is being there, showing up, and not just when it’s convenient for you. You think you can just waltz in and out of her life as you please, and everything will be fine?”

“I fuckin’ balancing shit! Work, responsibilities, bein’ a father—this shit ain’t a fuckin’ walk in the park!”

“Oh, poor you,” Maria sneered in contempt. “Must be so hard, being the big boss. But guess what, Roman? Ava doesn’t care about your business. She cares about her daddy. The daddy that keeps letting her down. You think a few phone calls and visits are enough to make up for all the times you weren’t there? Buying her love? Doesn’t work.”

“I know that,” he replied, softly and with a tinge of desperation. “And I told you I’m doin’ everything I can to make it work.”

“No, you’re doing everything you can to make yourself feel better. To ease your guilt. But it’s not about you, it’s about Ava. Until you realise that, you’re never going to be the father she needs.”

“I ain’t givin’ up on that girl, Maria, you can believe that. You can’t keep using her to punish me.”

Maria’s eyes flashed with anger. “Punish you? This isn’t about punishing you, you narcissistic asshole. I’m protecting my daughter from her father and his dangerous life. I’m giving her stability, which is something you will never be able to provide.”

Roman was tempted to just end the call and carry on with his night. His ex-wife’s voice ran straight through him like an airhorn. There was a reason he couldn’t stand the woman to begin with, and that was it. He just didn’t realise how fucking psychotic she’d end up being, and that the voice was just the tip of the iceberg.

“You think I’m dangerous?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one filling her head with lies, turning her against me every chance you get.”

“Lies?! The only lies here are the ones you tell yourself. That you’re a good father, that you’ll be there for her, that she’s the only thing that matters… You’re pathetic, Roman…”

Rolling his eyes, he had no choice but to take in insult after insult. Who knew what she’d do if he did just hang up on her? It would just add ammunition to her already extensive list of why he was no good as a dad. Or a man, for that matter.

“You either need to cut the crap, or stay out of her life for good so I can find someone who’s more of a man, more of a father, than you.”

“You ain’t bringin’ no man around my little girl, tu puttana,” Roman growled, jaw tight and nose flared as he sat forward, bringing his face closer to the screen. 

“Or what?” Maria smirked. “You gonna send Dumb and Dumber to take him out? You gonna send some other poor, sad subject to take a little girl’s daddy away? Better yet, you gonna come up here yourself? Is that what it’s gonna take, Roman? You’d rather show up to kill someone than to see your child.” She scoffed. “Don’t think for a second I won’t reverse that shared custody bullshit that we don’t use anyway. And don’t think for a second… that I can’t keep her from you. One word from me to CPS, and she’s mine.”

Okay, this bitch had stooped low before. But this? This was a whole other level of fucked up that even she hadn’t reached in the years he’d known her. She’d attacked his character, his business, his past, his present, his family—fuck, she even went as far as criticising him in bed. When she fully knew a single night with him made any bitch wobbly for the next few days.

This? A threat born of pure, unbridled hatred and malice, to legally stop him from seeing his own flesh and blood? Nothing cut him deeper.

But what was he to do? Return the threat? Give her a valid reason to complain to CPS, or the fucking authorities? She fucking wished.

Well, at least he had the authorities in New York right in the palm of his hand. He could handle that. Florida was a whole other ball game.

“This conversation isn’t going anywhere, Maria, I think you should hang up now, don’t you?” Roman forced himself to calmly request, his knee bouncing up and down from the agitation. And the smile on this woman’s face did nothing to help; the smile that indicated her arrogance. The sheer knowledge that she was in charge of this dynamic. She held the power over him when it came to Ava, and it would take a miracle to have that change.

“I’m inclined to agree. Sort your shit out. Goodbye, Roman.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Roman staring at the blank screen. He lowered his head into his hand, rubbing at his temples once again. He knew Maria was right, to some extent. Of course, his line of work meant he wasn’t around as much as he would have liked to be, or should have been. But it was never as simple as she made it out to be.

It seemed the longer he stayed in his office, the more the conversation replayed in his mind, every word cutting deeper each time. He needed to figure this out. He needed some kind of balance. Or risk losing Ava. 

He needed to vent, to get all this pent-up anger out before it completely consumed him to the point of no return. With a deep sigh, he stood up, stretching out his back and rolling his head both ways to release some of the tension.

Figuring some shit-talking and mild relaxation would distract him enough, he made his way back downstairs and to the living room, where Jimmy and Solo were still lounging around, looking up as he entered.

“You good, Uce?” Jimmy asked, a wary look in his eyes.

“Just had a call with the she-devil,” Roman bitterly replied, snarling slightly. “Doin’ her usual routine. Tryna make me feel like shit for not bein’ there enough.”

Jimmy shook his head, leaning back on the couch. “She’s always got somethin’ to say, huh? You’re doin’ your best, man, don’t let her get to you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard not to when she’s constantly using an innocent 6-year-old to get what she wants,” Roman huffed, grabbing a glass to pour himself another drink. “Actin’ like I’m the worst father in the world.”

“Ay, man, that ain’t true,” Solo chimed in, looking over his shoulder. “You know Ava loves you.”

“I just hate that she knows exactly how to push my buttons.” He swigged back the entirety of his amber liquid at once.

“Of course she does,” Jimmy said with a smirk. “She’s your ex for a reason. Knows all your weak spots.”

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah, and she ain’t afraid to use ‘em, either.”

The three of them fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. Roman took another sip of his drink, letting the alcohol soothe his frayed nerves.

“So, we got the drop-off with The Judgement Day tomorrow,” Jimmy said, shifting the conversation. “We need to be on our A-game.”

“Yeah, we can’t afford any mistakes,” Roman agreed, settling himself into one of the chairs, reclining back and staring up at the ceiling. “It’s a big score for us. We need to be rested and alert.”

“We got this,” Solo affirmed with a nod. “We’ve handled worse.”

The Head of the Table nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie with his cousins. They had been through a lot together, and he trusted them with his life.

Just then, Jey entered, his usual swagger in place. “Whassup, fellas? What’d I miss?”

“Just talkin’ about the drop-off tomorrow,” Jimmy replied, motioning for Jey to join them. “And Roman’s usual bullshit with Maria.”

Jey rolled his eyes with a loud groan as he plopped down on the couch next to Jimmy. “Man, she’s always gotta be causing trouble, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Roman muttered, shaking his head. “Anyway…” he trailed off, trying to come up with something to talk about that wasn’t overly depressing as fuck. “That event, huh? That was some, uh…”

“White people shit,” Jey finished his sentence.

“Ay, I’m not sure you’d class the Russians as white, Uce, they’re Asian,” Jimmy leaned back, sending his brother a pointed look.

Roman raised an eyebrow, pulling his head up to look at Jimmy. But Jey took the words right out of his mouth before he could think about uttering them.

“Nah, they ain’t Asian, man, what the fuck?”

“They ain’t Asian?”

“European, right?” Solo joined in.

“Imma squash this right now,” Jimmy straightened his posture, looking straight ahead of him. “Russia borders with Asia, so they Asian!” He emphasised each point with exaggerated hand movements.

“Bitch, they also border fuckin’ Europe. What’s the matter witchu, man?” Jey swatted the back of Jey’s head.

“Oh, okay then, let’s ask our Tribal Chief over here,” Jimmy clapped, gesturing over at Roman.

“What do I look like, your fuckin’ geography teacher or somethin’? The fuck outta here, man…” Roman shook his head, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“You got a phone, use it, and shut up,” Jimmy pointed to the phone sitting in Jey’s lap. “Find out where fuckin’ Russia is.”

Roman snickered, running his hands over his face. “Either way, tone down the shit-talkin’ on the Russians, ‘kay? I told your ass we ain’t got a problem with ‘em. They could be fuckin’ blue for all I care, we good with ‘em right now.”

“Uh, I have been meaning to ask you, Uce,” Jey started as he typed away into Google. “That blonde you were with tonight. That tan was fake, right?”

“Very.” Roman didn’t even hesitate the response. He’d hit the nail on the head.

“She was somethin’ else, though, fake tan or not.”

Roman laughed, the tension finally starting to ease within. “She was a piece of work, just a way to kill time. Nothin’ serious about her.”

“She didn’t seem like the nicest person, not gonna lie,” Solo commented, watching Jey’s phone as he did.

“She’s not,” Roman admitted, stretching his legs out and resting his hands in his lap. “Clingy as hell and fake as they come. But she was free tonight, so I figured why not?”

Jimmy chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, you always attract the crazies.”

“It’s a gift,” Roman replied with a smirk. “But seriously, she’s just a distraction. Nothin’ more.”

“Ay, as long as you can handle ‘em in bed, am I right, Uce?” Jey peered up from his phone.

“Damn straight,” his smirk turned into a full grin. “It’s about knowin’ what they want and how to give it to ‘em… You make ‘em feel real good, they be runnin’ back for more.”

Jimmy cackled. “Oh, we goin’ there tonight?”

“It’s both!” Jey shouted, lifting up his phone as if everyone could read what the hell was on the screen.

“The fuck you talking bout, man?” Roman asked in exasperation.

“Russia is technically in both Europe and Asia…” Jey trailed off. The other three just sat there staring at him, waiting for him to say something else. “Anyway, tell us how you nail a bitch, Chief,” he casually continued, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“I swear, you gotta get checked out, Uce, somethin’ ain’t right up there,” Jimmy mumbled.

“Now that we’ve established where everything is in the world, do you wanna hear what I have to say or not?” Roman asked, a knowing smirk on his face. Yeah, his cousins were fully grown men, but man… when it came to experience, nobody could even touch the Head of the Table.

Jimmy leaned forward, clearly more interested in this topic than the topic of where the hell Russia is. “Alright, hit us wit’ it.”

Looking down at his lap, Roman teased the moment, reigning in all the knowledge he’d gathered over the years. He loved the silent tension. Loved making people wait. Which led him to step one.

“You gotta be confident,” he started. “Women can smell insecurity a mile away. When you with her, make sure she knows you in control. Lead, don’t follow.”

Jey nodded, clearly taking mental notes.

“Pay attention to her reactions,” Roman continued. “When you’re kissin’ her, touchin’ her, whatever… Watch how she responds. If she likes somethin’, then you keep on doin’ it. If she doesn’t, switch it up.” He breathed in, momentarily remembering the night he shared with Ms Fake Tan the other week. Running a hand over his beard. “It’s all about readin’ her body.”

Up until now, Solo had been quietly listening, as he did with most things. “What about the actual thing? You got a go-to move, Uce?”

Chuckling, Roman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It ain’t about havin’ a go-to move, Solo. It’s about variety. You can’t keep doin’ the same thing every night, over and over again. Keep it fresh, keep it exciting. Surprise her.”

Jimmy grinned ear to ear like a schoolboy, enjoying the conversation. “Man, I remember the first time I switched things up with Trin—she was all about that shit.”

“Exactly,” Roman drawled, fist-bumping his cousin. “Keep ‘em on their toes. Make ‘em want more… That’s how you keep ‘em hooked.”

Jey leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. “Man, I need to find me a girl who appreciates that. Most of the ones I’ve been with just want the flashy stuff.”

“They’re out there,” Solo added. “You just gotta look in the right places.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jey waved him off. “Easier said than done.”

As the night wore on, they eventually started to wind down, the weight of tomorrow’s task looming over them

“We should get some sleep,” Roman declared, standing up with a small grunt and stretching. “We need to be sharp for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you right,” Jimmy agreed, following suit. “We’ll handle it, Uce. Don’t worry.”

“I know we will,” he clapped Jimmy on the shoulder. “G’night, guys. Get some rest.”

“Night, Chief,” Jey bid him a goodbye, exchanging fist bumps. “We got this shit.”

[szalonykasztan00]

Tamlin Vs Water-wraiths Vs Tithe

In the post, @aho-dapa ask a question on Why Tamlin as a High Lord didn’t do anything regarding the fact that Water-wraiths possibly kill and cannibals other fae in his land. Well, answers depend on a few criteria.

But before that, I wanted to state something.

When I refer to this scene in Chapter 9 I assume that Alis was talking about this particular Water-wraith that came to the Tithe. However, after thinking about it for some time I concluded that it might be that Alis was talking about this group or the entire species, not that particular one that was just a representative. (I don't know if that counts as fea racism we don't have enough information on that. From the book I assume that it might be but I am not an expert on racism in general or fea racism if that was even it). 

We don't know anything/minimal about the cultural, historical, social and economic background of the Fea nations. Much less about their biologic (excluding High fea and IIlirians I guess). World of feas seems to operate on semi-animal rules as well as human rules. It gives a very strange mix that allows many possibilities for which rules apply and when. They obviously have taxes but at the same time, magic chose the strongest fea of the court to rule it. Feas are also possibly highly religious creatures so there is that aspect.

So depending on when water-wraiths were created (evolve?), people may have a different view of them. 

If they were created with the rest of the fea in their current form/behaviour, then punishing them for doing something considered natural (trying to fill their hunger by any means necessary) by The Goddess would be religious blasphemy and morally wrong (may result in an uprising or revolt). 

IF they were a curse to be like this later in the history of the world, the fea may consider their ever-hungry existence as a punishment in itself.

It also brings the question of where is "the line" for creaturs that in their existence need to take something from other sentient creatures. Like succubus or incubus for example. If they feed from someone and they accidentally kill them then there is no proof that that was an accident. It would be needed to be treated the same and for many court citizens, it results in death/imprisonment. 

I think is highly possible that fea in general, as well as Water-wraiths, are rather-territorial creatures. Thus they usually don't leave their "territory". Thats give the possibility that the amount of water-wraith victims is objectively low. (Kinda like socially exaggerated shark attacks). 

The thing is that there might not be enough evidence to properly judge the cases. Water-wraiths seem to operate on a killing plan :

Drown.

Eat to the bone or with the bones.

Dispose of the evidence on the bottom of their habitat.

If there was no witness then there is no certainty that there was a crime at all. People just go missing in the woods (with a lake) or near a river. It might be a really big open secret. But until there is a witness/evidence that will give lawful reason to search particular Water-wraiths habitat.

That part depends solely on how you see Tamlin and his regin.

There is also a question of priority. We know that Tamlin was HL for +/- 400 years with 50 under Amaranths's occupation, which limited, an unknown amount, his ability to rule and change his court. We also know that Tamlin got a court similar to Hybern in terms of cruelty, possible laws and most definitely people. On top of the court being burdened with losing half of its territory or/and moving the borders, and possibly sanctions and reparation that damage SC's economy. And we know that Tamlin's father would not care about common people or other lords that he didn't like/respect. As far as we can debate Tamlin may spend he's rule by making and enforcing laws that were more urgent to him. (Maybe he ended child marriage (it seems to me as something important to him), giving some equivalent of minimum wage to the people, etc.). He has to deal probably with the opposition of lords, that didn't die in war and share a worldview with his father. In the end, he manages to transform that little Hybern into the place where fea comes to get safety, where people are devoted to him to the point that are willing to sacrifice themself for his cause, it may not be perfect but going there.

There is also an interesting thing. We read that it was I think another day of the Tithe or at least it long into the Tithe when the Water-wraith came. Right? So there wasn't someone before who couldn't pay the Tithe before? Was the Water-wraith the first form thousands of people that came to the Tithe that couldn't pay? Maybe (and it's a thing I read once in fanfic but I like that explanation) she was trying to prey on F/erye's lack of knowes/experience like when Tamlin's first time collected Tithe? That's why he was so rough about it? (remember Tamlin is not good at communication/he was embarrassed and Lucien may not be there at the time same with Alis).

That would be it form me. To summarise:

Religus, philosophy and moral reasons of fea wolrd.

Precedent of law

Social prejudice vs reality

Lack of means to prosecute the crime/lack of crime.

Tamlin's just not there yet as a High Lord.

[silentsampler]

the golf balls

golf balls are small, social, domesticated creatures who thrive on being punted in the air. they require occasional handling and/or cleaning to maintain their calm, gentle demeanor. they respond well to positive reinforcement.

if you find a golf ball alone in the wild, take it with you! they enjoy human interaction and will bond upon first cleaning. in the wild, they usually reside near bushes or creeks, as these locations offer suitable hiding spots from their only predator, the ball collection truck.

common species of golf ball include titleist, callaway, pinnacle, and taylormade. certain subspecies of each have evolved to live exclusively on the driving range. these specimens exhibit the niche-specific characteristic of three lines, which shortens their flight range by about 7%.

golf balls cohabitate very well with each other, golf clubs, tees, and golf gloves. they can have a symbiotic relationship with the local club brush, as their love for cleanliness gives the brush easy access to its main food source, dirt.

newly acquired golf balls are eager to please their owners, and may fly erratically in an effort to showcase their abilities. after extensive training and help from the clubs, the golf balls will understand the process and fly straighter. balls found in the wild are usually partially trained. rarely, you can find a range-adapted ball on the course. this ball, with proper training, can learn to behave similarly to a course ball, but will need extra supplements to match its needs. balls found in bunkers will likely show signs of distrust towards humans, and will need extra training.

what to do with your golf ball

throw and catch it! they love these kinds of games

if it’s a range ball you’re fostering, whack it into its natural habitat!

for rescued course balls- use them in the course you found them. this will give a sense of familiarity while training

don’t ever throw any ball directly towards the ground! this will not only harm the dirt, but it’s also golf ball abuse!

if you ever need to let a ball leave your care, make sure you give them to an experienced handler or a golf ball rescue. never leave it on the course, as this will give them significant trust issues.

looking to add a new friend to the golf bag ecosystem? look for one on a course, rather than buying one. the wild ones need human care more than anything, and you can help them readjust to natural golf ball life.

[calosphace]

[WIP] Intro to Bromeliads: Surprising Tropicals for the Zone 9a Garden

Bromeliads are a special family of flowering plants from the Americas that have many adaptations for low-water including CAM-photosynthesis (like cacti). Some are terrestrial like your typical plant but others are able to grow on trees and rocks, scientifically known as “epiphytic” and “lithophytic” respectively. Many bromeliads are great both for beginner gardeners and snobs (me) alike.

Bromeliad categories:

Dyckia & Succulent - Dyckia, Puya, Hechtia, Encholichreron are (somewhat) common genera in circulation these are the bromeliads tend to be more terrestrial or lithophytic, growing in low rainfall areas kind of like an agave or a standard cactus

Airplant - Tillandsia species -  these are often wispy plants which gather water from special hairs on their leaves rather than roots which gives them usually a silvery appearance. Airplants are found from South America into the mid-Atlantic USA in a variety of habitats with some even growing on cacti in deserts such as the fragrant and quite large Tillandsia duratti.

Tank & Urn broms aka “classic broms” - common genera are Neoregelia, Aechmea, Billbergia, and Vriesea, these are the popular idea of a brom, plants with stiff leaves that often store water in their centers (known as the “tank”) most of these are native to tropical and subtropical forests in Central and South America. 

Note on Hardiness:

For all marginal plants, especially “tank” bromeliads and mounted plants, the rule of thumb is to provide oak canopy or a similar reliable, evergreen cover. This is crucial in climates like Deep South where freezes typically are short in duration, occurring briefly during cloudless nights in winter. The oak canopy functions as a blanket for the plants and keeps the cold (which comes from above!) setting in and potentially also keeping any morning dew from freezing into frost. Bromeliads cope much better with “dry cold”.  London is zone 9 just like my area, I’ve visited and seen our native Cabbage palms growing big in London, but they cannot grow half the bromeliads we can. This is because the UK has a wetter and longer-lasting cold. [If you are in UK reading this: look on inat at Tillandsia species growing in Argentina and at Aechmea recurvata].

Photo caption: A collection of bromeliads underneath a native Sand live oak (Quercus geminata)

Photo caption: Billbergia nutans mounted to a Southern live oak, this patch has endured temperatures of 23F and several nights in mid-20s after that. It gets no irrigation or fertilizer.

Siting Bromeliads:

Most bromeliads grown are from humid forests where they evolved to grow on trees. Dappled shade and part sun conditions are almost always best for them for this reason. As mentioned above, the canopy cover is also important to protect the plants from extremes in weather temperature.

 If growing in the Southeast, you tend to not have to worry about increasing humidity but I also find localized areas of increased humidity benefit bromeliads and other epiphytes. 

Examples of increased humidity areas in my garden:

Tree over a paved surface (water evaporating off paved surface)

Near an air conditioner (these drip out water all day)

Over my small frog pond

Look for lichens and other epiphytes as evidence of suitable areas for humidity-lovers.

Bromeliads that can be grown both terrestrially and epiphytically are perfect for areas of dry shade/high root competition such as at base of native Cabbage palm or particularly thirsty trees like my Red maple.

Caption: A bed with extreme root competition at base of native Red maple (Acer rubra) and Cabbage palm (Sabal palmetto) featuring many bromeliads.

Mounting bromeliads

I recommend using aluminum wire or a natural twine for mounting bromelaids where needed. Plastics like synthetic rope and fishing lines are dangerous to wildlife and, especially synthetic fibers, degrade into microplastics and nanoplastics which are so small they can cross the blood-brain barrier (if you wouldnt bite into a credit card, you shouldnt be using that stuff basically). 

Sometimes with the bromeliad shape you can get by just putting it on and using Beard airplant wrapped around it. Some also use wood glue but it is important not to cover too much of the plant if it is an airplant as the plant needs to get water through its leaves.

Bromeliads and other epiphytes including orchids tend to favor the following characteristics:

Furrowed bark (easiest to grab onto)

Evergreen canopy (protects from temperature extremes)

“Leakiness” (tree releases more minerals than average = more fertilizer for epis!)

Live oaks satisfy all three of those characteristics which is why they are draped in beard airplants in the Deep South.

Cypress are also “leaky” and favored by airplants but they do not have furrowed bark nor are they evergreen so outside of zone 10b+  they are not as good for marginal species.

If you are unable to have a full-sized Live oak, I recommend the extremely under-utilized small native oak species Quercus myrtifolia  (the record largest is 39 feet but typically they are shorter than two storeys). For reference, the common as sin Japanese Waxleaf privet is a much bigger plant than this and much quicker in growth rate yet I also see it planted right next to houses. You also could try a native holly like the Dahoon or a Weeping yaupon and keep them as small trees.

As far as exotics go,  Bottlebrush has furrowed bark and I can recommend it for all day sun to part sun conditions. For no more than 8 hours of sun, Pineapple guava is great but it does have flaky bark so attachment may not occur.

Good Beginner Tank Broms:

Androlopsis skinneri 'Paradise', very nice huge brom for warmer zone 9a

Aechmea caudata, e.g. 'Santa Catarina' perhaps my favorite of the established zone 9a species

Aechmea disticantha warning that it is a vicious bastard of a plant, but probably the hardiest of the larger Aechmea species to my knowledge Aechmea recurvata "matchstick" bromeliads e.g. Aechmea apocalyptica Aechmea cornata Aechmea cylindrata Aechmea gamosepala (probably the most common) Aechmea x 'Burgundy' hybrid with disticantha parentage but much smaller and less vicious with good foliage color Billbergia nutans Other Billbergia hybrids might be hardy as well, a plant that appears to be the cultivated hybrid 'Hallelujah' bloomed through 3 days of mid-20s night temps under oak in a very sheltered location (notably firebush in same area was of course knocked to the ground). Many Neoregelia hybrids, at work the following had little to no damage during mid-20s: Neoregelia Cruenta Neoregelia Super Fireball Noid that lookes like Neoregelia Raphael Noid that looks like Neoregelia ___

Nidularium innocentii

Androlopsis x Aechmea disticantha = O'Rourke very nice intergeneric likely hardier than Androlopsis parent thanks to disticantha but this also makes it a bit more brutal to handle than Androlopsis

Airplants for zone 9a:

Showy species native to North FL Tillandsia bartramii Tillandsia x floridana Tillandsia usenoides aka "Spanish moss" (i call beard airplant)

South TX Tillandsia baileyi "Southern Cone" airplants such as: Tillandsia aeranthos Tillandsia albertiana Tillandsia stricta Tillandsia tenuifolia

Misc. species Tillandsia ionantha

[chey-murray]

The Rock-Stacking Controversy

If you visit a riverbank or rocky area, you might see hundreds of them all stacked up like a little army. You might call them rock-stacks(which is what I will call them for this post), inukshuks, cairns, or something else entirely. No matter what you call them, they are an ongoing source of controversy in the outdoors community.

In a video I saw many years ago now, a woman was videoing and yelling at someone who was kicking rock-stacks down, and the comments section could not agree on who was in the right. Since then, I have seen posts of people talking about how a “rock-kicker made their kid cry” as well as posts along the lines of “I tried to explain to this mother why not to stack rocks, and she yelled at me.”

The rock-stacks are now being built in mass amounts(often for a photo), and has created a divide.

Rather than argue about what or what not to allow people to do, in this post I am going to tell you all the sides and facts I can so you can make your own opinion.

The “They Are Fun” Side:

This side argues that they are harmless fun. They say that kids and adults alike need time climbing trees, playing in stream, and exploring, in order to truly learn to appreciate nature.

"Rock stacking is an outdoor activity that promotes motor skills and dirty hands." Fatherly

"In modern times, many people use stacking stones to relax, relieve stress, meditate, create, play, and learn." Rhythms of Play

The “They Are Art” Side:

It takes time and perfect balance to stack the rocks just right, and each rock-stack tells the story of someone who did just that. They are art, and should not be removed because they make this group happy to see.

As it turns out, you don’t need sleight of hand or even mud to design gravity-defying cairns. You do need a bit of patience, though, and a knack for “knowing the rocks,” according to Michael Grab, a land artist who has been balancing rocks since 2008. He builds his sculptures with rocks from the natural landscape, usually alongside water.  Rock balancing is an internationally recognized craft; Grab has been invited to design sculptures at rock balance festivals in Italy, Costa Rica, and Boulder, Colorado, where he spends most of his time“ THE ZEN OF ROCK BALANCING” by Garden Design

The “They Are Ugly” Side:

Yup, the opposite as above. This side says that they hike to be out in nature, not to be reminded of humans by all the “ugly little rock stacks” destroying the natural scenery.

The “They Are Environmentally Bad” Side:

Environmentalists and leave-no-trace hikers argue that removing rocks displaces wildlife who use the rocks as homes or to hide under, as well as helps cause soil erosion.

“When rocks are relocated, this also can destabilize the soil and make the area vulnerable to erosion. In the case of removing rocks from rivers and other water bodies, you may be disrupting aquatic habitats and, in extreme cases, could even be affecting the natural flow.” The Washington Post

The “They Will Get People Lost” Side:

Backcountry hikers argue that they are often used as trail markers for places where trails are not clearly marked, and that making random rock stacks can get people lost.

On the other side of this argument, they also say to be very careful which stacks you kick down, because you could be kicking down a trail marker.

"Stone sculptures are often built to mark trails and to help hikers find their way up and down the mountains." CBC

_____

So, as you can tell, people can be very passionate about what side they are on. What about you? Which side are you on in this controversy?

[mainslol]

Lightning bugs

#LIGHTNING BUGS HOW TO#

Debris also harbors worms, slugs and other pests that fireflies feed on. Don’t be in a hurry to rake up leaves, as fallen plant debris creates an effective firefly habitat. Plant groundcovers or low-growing plants, which keep the ground moist and shady. Keep the environment around your house as dark as possible, as lights interfere with light signals and makes the firefly’s lights difficult for potential mates to see. Fireflies remain on the ground during the day – usually in long grass or shrubbery. If possible, leave a few areas unmowed, as perfectly manicured lawns aren’t good firefly habitat. Chemical fertilizers can harm fireflies and other beneficial insects.Īllow your lawn to grow a bit longer. Switch to natural fertilizers, such as manure or fish emulsion. Chemical pesticides and herbicides are partly to blame for the bugs’ diminishing numbers. Learn about natural ways of controlling insects and weeds. It may be fun to catch lightning bugs in glass jars, but you’ll be doing them a huge favor if you allow them to complete their entire life cycle undisturbed. They are winged beetles, and commonly called fireflies or lightning bugs for their. Fireflies are reportedly extremely nasty tasting and some species may be poisonous. Lampyridae is a family of insects in the beetle order Coleoptera. The glow of firefly larvae (glowworms) serves a different purpose by frightening away potential predators. Each firefly species has its own distinctive flash patterns. The light produced by fireflies is a chemical reaction used to signal members of the opposite sex. Despite the name, they aren’t flies, but rather a type of winged beetle. Lightning Bug Informationįireflies are nocturnal insects.

#LIGHTNING BUGS HOW TO#

Are you interested in discovering ways to attract lightning bugs? Just keep reading to find out how to get lightning bugs in your yard. Their diminishing numbers are due to use of toxic chemicals, destruction of wetlands, urban sprawl, clearing of forests, and light pollution. The bad news is that fireflies are disappearing all over the world. Even better, most species are predatory, feeding on the larvae of insect pests, as well as on slugs and snails. Attracting lightning bugs to your garden is definitely a good thing to do, as unlike many other less desirable bugs, these beneficial insects don’t bite, they aren’t poisonous, and they carry no diseases. Contact us today with any questions or visit our Business Programs Page for options.Lightning bugs in the garden are a visual treat for people who live near lightning bug habitats – primarily damp areas east of the Rocky Mountains. Our Commercial rental program is customized to each client. Typical usage includes area security, grounds crews, VIP transportation, and event set-up/tear down. A meteorological researcher surmised a couple years ago that the areas where people tend to say lightning bug overlaps with the parts of the country where lightning strikes are more frequent. But why it breaks down that way gets even more interesting. Our fleet is ideal for municipalities, apartment/condo complexes, weddings and events. Lightning bug is the term of choice for most folks from the Midwest and the South. Lightning Bugz LSV also has a commercial line with a variety of Electric Utility Vehicles. With a Lightning Bugz LSV you no longer have to worry about parking a large vehicle, waiting for the A/C to cool down your car, high gas prices or sand in the carpet! An LSV is street legal, can be driven at night, and is the perfect way to cruise around to the grocery store, area attractions and the beach. Our Vacation Rental Bugz can safely accommodate 4-8 passengers, is car seat friendly, and has storage capacity for those cumbersome beach chairs, coolers, and toys. They cant be flies as their name suggests because flies are members of the Fly Order. We also know the burdens of getting out of the house and to the beach with all of your personal items. Vacations are the ideal way to spend time with your family. We provide LSV and golf cart rentals to Isle of Palms, Sullivan’s Island, Folly Beach, Edisto Island and Seabrook Island but also service all towns up to 45 minutes from Charleston as well. Whether it is going from your rental property to the beach, wedding and event set-up and transportation, or property maintenance needs, we have a Bug just for you. We take the hassle out of getting around your destination. Lightning Bugz Rentals provides affordable, eco-friendly Low Speed Vehicles and Charleston golf cart rentals to vacationers and commercial businesses.

[adobe-outdesign]

Pokemon Worldbuilding Headcanons

Exactly what it says in the title. Some are based on the game, some on the anime, and some directly contradict both because the Pokemon lore is made up and your feelings don’t matter.

Biology

Pokemon heal faster when unconscious or asleep--thus, they faint easily from pain or exhaustion in order to recuperate.

During evolution, a Pokemon converts itself into energy and reforms itself. Evolution is optional, and a Pokemon can choose if and when it evolves. Evolution is triggered by both an environmental circumstance (ex: winning a battle), and by the Pokemon storing up energy over time until it has enough to transform.

Stress evolutions are when a Pokemon evolves prematurally in order to win a battle or when they’re in a life-or-death situation. This can result in the evolution being smaller than normal and possibly weaker as well.

“Trade evolutions” are a loose grouping of Pokemon that typically evolve when they start working with a new trainer. The exact reasons for the evolution varies by individual, and therefore can have multiple causes.

Ex: a Pokemon may evolve after it learns something from someone else. While the easiest way to achieve this is through trade, they may also evolve by training under a wiser, older Pokemon.

Trade evolutions are somewhat rare in the wild, but not unheard of.

Pokemon that evolve via stones cannot store enough energy to evolve naturally. The stones contain extra energy that they can tap into in order to aid in evolution.

Everstones work similar to sponges; they absorb the extra energy a Pokemon would normally store up to evolve, thus preventing them from doing so. They’re mostly used for medical purposes (as a Pokemon evolving when badly injured could worsen its injuries) and to help prevent stress evolutions in Pokemon that don’t want to evolve.

Pokemon types are based on the type of energy they utilize, rather than moves or appearance. Ex: Charizard is not dragon-type despite looking like a dragon because it doesn’t use dragon-type energy. New energies are discovered all the time and Pokemon are reclassified as needed.

Pokemon typing also changes as they (Darwinian) evolve. A Pokemon that’s normal/grass used to be normal-type, has started to gain grass-typing, and will eventually be only grass-type.

Humans are descended from Pokemon. They used to be psychic-type before becoming normal-type and then losing their typing all together. At this point they no longer are energy-based nor do they lay eggs, so they’re considered a separate-but-related family.

This is why some people still show psychic powers; those abilities never completely went away in some bloodlines.

Pokemon have been domesticated for so long that there’s actually no such thing as a “wild” Pokemon anymore (with the exception of legendaries). Wild Pokemon are technically feral, and any given Pokemon will quickly adapt to living with humans if caught.

Pokemon used to look different hundreds of years ago, and have slowly undergone Darwinian evolution over time as they were domesticated.

“Most trainers will legendaries shortly after their journey starts” statistic false. Most trainers will see no legendaries in their lifetimes. Ash Ketchum, who’s seen every single legendary in existence, is an outlier and should not be counted

However, areas where legendaries are known to live are oftentimes marked as no-catch conservation areas. People will oftentime travel to these parks to admire “common” legendaries (such as the bird trio) in their natural habitats.

Battles

Not knocking out a Pokemon you’re trying to capture is more of a honored rule than a law. The reason it’s done is to give the Pokemon ample time to flee--otherwise, someone may one-shot a Pokemon that doesn’t want a trainer, resulting in the Pokemon being unfairly knocked out and the trainer wasting their time.

If you give the Pokemon time to flee and it chooses to stay and fight, it’s potentially interested in accepting you as a trainer and you just have to prove yourself. If it flees, you should leave it alone.

Pokemon used for battles are specifically trained to not cause permanent harm or injury to their opponents (ex: that fire blast isn’t as hot as it could be, so it’ll only cause minor burns instead of third-degree ones). While the attacks used might look violent and cause some pain, serious injuries are very rare.

Wild Pokemon are also pretty good at restraining themselves if they’re just battling for fun or to test a trainer. They will not, however, restrain themselves if they feel threatened or are hunting. Trainers are advised to use caution when fighting wild Pokemon and return their Pokemon to their balls if necessary.

Psychic-types (Mr. Mime especially) are used to create protective barriers around arenas/trainers to protect people from flying debris and stray attacks.

Refs always have a few Pokemon on hand that know moves like stun spore or sleep powder in order to stop any fights that get out of hand.

Pokeballs

While some trainers different Pokemon by using different types of Pokeballs, decorating them is also a popular way to do it. Some people draw symbols or initials on the buttons, some add stickers, some paint them, ect.

Stores also sell semi-transparent hard shells that snap over the balls. These come in different colors and designs, so you can have a Pokeball that has a galaxy design on top instead of plain red if you want.

Most trainers keep about 40 some Pokemon or less, which they rotate between their party, the PC, and daycares/Pokemon sitters to keep them enriched and active. Some people keep more, but they generally spend all of their time caring for them and therefore aren’t trainers.

The general rule of thumb is to not leave a Pokemon in the PC for more than two weeks. If you fail to take them out after a month, they will be automatically removed and released back into the wild.

Pokeballs create little miniature simulations of nature, making them feel bigger on the inside. Different types of pokeballs have different or more advanced simulations, which may increase how much a Pokemon likes being in it.

Pokeballs create an invisible “tag” for the Pokemon by altering their energy when they’re first caught. These tags affect nothing, but Pokeballs are programmed to automatically check for one before they’ll activate.

Many poachers and other illegal groups produce their own illegal Pokeballs that do not check for tags before capture.

If a Pokeball breaks, it automatically releases the Pokemon inside and removes their tag.

Tags fade after about a month to allow for other trainers to capture a Pokemon after it’s been permanently released. The tag is automatically refreshed every time a Pokemon is brought back into its ball.

The standard Pokeball pattern is based off of the patterns of the Foongus line. Pokemon are very attracted to their markings, so the balls are painted the same to make the Pokemon like them more.

Eggs

Rather than combining genetics, Pokemon reproduce by combining their energy together (this looks a bit like two Pokemon evolving at the same time). Because of this, they lack reproductive organs and chromosomes.

Gender is a loosely defined concept for them. Pokemon can change their sex upon evolution if they want to, and some will change their sex over time (ex: legendaries are usually genderless, but will gain a sex to breed and then lose it again afterward).

If a Pokemon doesn’t display sexual dimorphism, the only way to determine their sex is to have a Pokemon Center do a blood test.

Eggs aren’t laid, but created. The pregnant Pokemon fosters energy in their body. When ready they separate the extra energy from themselves (once again, looks a bit like evolution), which forms into the egg. This causes them no pain, and means they have short gestation periods.

This also means Pokemon never look pregnant. The only way to tell is by getting them tested or paying attention to changes in behavior. Many trainers end up with eggs out of nowhere because they had no idea one of their Pokemon was pregnant to begin with.

In the wild, some species of Pokemon will lay hundreds of eggs (such as fish and bug Pokemon) to ensure their survival. In captivity, Pokemon rarely create more than 1 or 2 eggs at a time, likely because they understand their young are safe with their trainers.

Pokemon develop more quickly in their eggs than IRL animals. They can technically hatch shortly after the egg is made, but they usually spend extra time inside maturing. By the time the egg hatches, the baby already has fur/feathers/whatever, and can walk and eat solid food. This helps ensure their survival against predators.

Young Pokemon are differentiated by being “mature” or “immature”; an immature Pokemon will still gradually grow and change appearance, while a mature one is fully grown until it evolves. A Pokemon cannot evolve until it’s considered mature (excluding mega evolution for single-stagers).

To use Vulpix as a canon example: a newly hatched immature Vulpix is about 8 in tall and has one white tail. A mature Vulpix is about 2 ft tall and has six red tails.

In the wild, Pokemon mostly breed amongst their own species. The exception are Pokemon with uneven gender ratios (so if a Pokemon is 7:1 male vs female, the males will actively breed with anything in their egg group). Inter-species breeding among captive Pokemon is much more common, and usually based on the Pokemon’s personal preferences.

Hybridization in Pokemon born from two different parents is very rare, but it does happen from time to time. It’s more common in Pokemon that look similar or are distantly related.

“Perfect” hybrids, Pokemon that have equal amounts of traits from both parents as well as typing and abilities, are more sought after than shinies. They usually can’t breed due to their mix of energies.

[theramseyloft]

Let’s take a moment to talk Shit.

You can tell a lot about the health of a pet by its poop.

Changes in its color or consistency are among the first warning signs that a pet may not be feeling well.

In birds, you will usually see changes in poop long before the changes in behavior that indicate illness, like irritability or lethargy.

When most people think of pigeon poop, This is what usually comes to mind:

Nasty white streaks

Or splatters

Or gross colored splats

Any place feral pigeons frequent.

But this is what poop from a healthy, well fed pigeon looks like:

A small, compact ball of the indigestible fiber left over from the hulls of the seeds they eat whole, with a tiny white cap of urate.

You can see the consistency from the others underneath it, where nesting straw has been mashed into them as Pippin has come and gone and arranged, and rearranged individual blades.

A reliably well fed and hydrated pigeon will usually leave stools that keep their round shape on impact with a texture slightly softer than well worked playdoh.

Pigeon poop can be sloppy after a big drink of water following a 6-12 hour period of having gone with out. 

The bowel movement after their first drink of water in the morning, for example, may make a sloppy mess, but in a healthy, well fed pigeon, the solid part will still be brown, and there will be more water than the white urate.

Look at this third picture again:

That wet mess of solids on mostly urate, with a mucus-y shine and slimy texture, is indicative of a heavy gut load of intestinal parasites. 

Not just most ferals, but most racing, performing, and exhibition pigeons (since there are often housed out doors) are infested with the nematode Capillaria, the round worm Strongyloides, or the protozoan Coccidia.

While usually sub-clinical, an active infection of Salmonella will turn the poop a distinctive sulfur yellow to lime green.

But poop is only pure white, 

Like those streaks and splatters most people associate with feral pigeons, when the birds have not had access to solid food in 12 hours or more.

Nearly all feral pigeons perpetually teeter on the brink of starvation, and it shows in their poop.

They are strict granivores, meaning that they can only digest seeds: the embryonic tissue of plants.

With cities being so carefully landscaped, often with the only plant life available being in the form of flower beds and trees, with grasses only in public parks and mowed too short to bloom and seed, the food they can actually digest is mighty hard for the average feral pigeon to find.

Barn ferals tend to be much more healthy for access to seed and animal feed.

But spilled garbage and the hand outs of the people that like them enough to feed them are literally all the food city ferals have access to.

Most of that is bread.

And while bread is made from grain, milling that grain and baking it into bread breaks it down, making it easier for a HUMAN to digest, but HARDER for a pigeon.

They like the taste of it, and eating some as an occasional treat won’t do a pet bird any harm, but that’s the VAST bulk of the food feral pigeons have access to.

It would be like a humans having to wander for miles every day to find food, but only being able to find potato chips, snack cakes, and the occasional slim jim.

That human would not have a long, or healthy life.

Now imagine that person ALSO had two different kinds of lice, mosquitos, and a parasitic fly sucking their blood from the outside, a painful cheesy growth in their throat that could block off their trachea or esophagus if it goes untreated long enough, two species of worms eating the nutrients they manage to find before their intestinal lining gets the chance to absorb it, and a protozoan eating their intestinal lining, with no hope of getting any of those things treated.

And you have a pretty accurate representation of what it’s like to be a feral pigeon living “free”.

I am all for wild animals living free in the environment for which they were adapted.

But pigeons are not wild life, and they were not adapted to cities.

ESPECIALLY not on the continent of North America.

The pigeons that were brought here as military messengers, meat, and entertainment had been domesticated for thousands of years already.

When homers were no longer faster and more reliable messengers than phone lines or radio waves, they were no longer profitable to keep, pigeons were released. This was common practice in the places they came from.

But in Europe, Africa, Turkey, and Saudi Arabia, where Rock Doves are native, there WAS natural habitat for the exclusively cliff nesting birds to relocate to, as well as open lofts that would welcome the boon of free livestock. 

But there is nothing like their actual habitat: A high cliff near the sea, between desert and grass land, in north America. 

So, as lofts shut down and were (as they still are to this day by racers) habitually destroyed to discourage the birds no one would buy from returning, there was nowhere for the unwanted birds to go EXCEPT the tall, concrete buildings, and the metal structure under bridges and billboards.

The problem of feral pigeon mess, from the structural damage caused by the pure uric acid they excrete on an empty stomach to their potential as vectors for zoonotic disease is one of our own making.

That’s why I don’t re-abandon feral pigeons that come into rehab by releasing them.

I get them medical care. Heal their wounds, treat their infections, clean out their parasites...

And then I treat them like any good shelter would treat a stray dog:

I evaluate their temperament, and find them a permanent home where they can be well cared for and as happy as possible.

I fiercely love pigeons. 

And for the same reason that seeing mangy, thin stray dogs roam the street treated an invasive pest species; ignored at best and chased off or exterminated at worst, would horrify and haunt the average american...

My goals are to make hoards of feral pigeons a thing of the ignorant past by encouraging the development of shelters for them like we have for dogs, cats, parrots, and other exotic pets.

Wildlife, like Mourning Doves, should absolutely be returned to the wild if at all possible.

Urban wildlife, like raccoons, are natives that have willingly ventured into cities and found them a welcoming, supportive environment, for which that animal happened to be naturally well suited.

Invasive wildlife, like Collared Doves, happen to be well adapted to the new environment into which they were released. T hey can be a danger to natives, so culling is preferred over release in the event that they can’t be penned. But still being wild animals, being caged stresses them severely.

Pigeons fit NONE of these categories.

They are not wildlife.

They did not “invade” cities.

They were abandoned there the minute they ceased to be profitable, they had no where else to go, and we treat the mess like it’s their fault.

We have done pigeons a terrible disservice by having entirely forgotten that they are domestic livestock.

And any one that calls a pigeon in north America a “wind animal that should be free” perpetuates and encourages that abandonment of responsibility.

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Pogues x reader, eventually JJ x reader.

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister. 

Note: Hey guys! Thank you so much for the support of my last couple of fics. All your messages have been so kind and so sweet! I’ve made a rewrite of the show with a new character that eventually falls in love with her best friend. I’m gonna be posting a new chapter three times a week. Let me know what you guys think!

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: None

Chapter 2 

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?" John B tip toes across the middle of the roof as he sips out of the can of beer in his hand.

I lean to my right, pressing against JJ's shoulder as we sit on a construction slack used to hold construction workers as they work on the siding of the home. Scaffolding, I think it's called. I narrow my eyes at my brother, counting down the seconds until he falls.

"I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival," Pope jokes from the deck below us.

John B shrugs. He licks his finger and holds it up in the air as if he's feeling which way the wind is blowing. "Hm. Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump." Pope holds up a power drill and points it at John B like it's a gun. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep." Pope closes one eye and pretends to shoot it. "Pow!"

I roll my eyes and look forward again, letting the beer slip down my throat like a refreshing glass of water. The warm North Carolina air presses soothingly against my freshly tan skin and I bask in the sunlight. Its days like these that I like the most. Days where none of my best friends have work, we're drinking causally, and joking with one another. Even if it's on a construction site in the middle of Figure Eight. But the idea of getting caught just gives me an adrenaline rush.

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kie says as she walks out of the unfinished house.

"Of course. Why wouldn't they?" JJ says next to me with a shrug like it's not the craziest thing that a Kook would own.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess."

"I can't have cold towels."

Kie looks up at John B, shielding her eyes with the back of her hand. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

"Don't spill the beer. I'm not giving you another one," JJ says.

As if on cue, John B's foot slips. Luckily he catches himself, but his beer, however, drops to it's death on the deck below. As John B steadies himself I release the breath I didn't even know I was holding. I take another greedy gulp of my warm beer to steady the nerves in my chest.

"Whoa! Oh, shit," John B curses.

"Of course you did," JJ rolls his eyes playfully. "Smooth."

"A plus, really." I glare up at my brother, feeling his mischievous smirk right back at me.

"Dumbass," Kie mutters under her breath. She looks up at me as if waiting for me to say something, but I only giggle to myself. John B can be clumsy but he's not going to accidentally kill himself.

"Hey!" I hear another voice shout behind us towards the street and front of the house. A voice that doesn't belong to any of my friends or my brother.

"Hey, uh, security's here," Pope says.

Immediately knowing what that means, I jump to my feet with the help of JJ right after he slugs the rest of his beer. A delirious grin dances along my lips as I hop down to the main deck.

"Let's wrap it up!"

"Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll!"

My legs take off after my friends through the house. Adrenaline rushes through my veins and straight to my head like a power high. I can't even feel my legs as they jump over wooden slacks and construction tools. The high from running from the police is better than any drug JJ can get his hands on, even the good stuff.

"Gary is that you?" JJ plays along before accidentally running into him, making him slip on his feet before running the other way. I grab his wrist and pull him closer to me to catch up. "Gary, good to see you man!"

I laugh as my feet land on the freshly cut grass in the front yard. "You're asking for it."

"JJ!" The obese cop chases after us, recognizing my best friend's face instantly. I'm not surprised, not even a little bit. JJ had his fair share of run-ins with the law.

"They're going out front!" I hear another cop shout. I can barley hear through the wind rushing through my ears.

We run into a tall white painted fence that blocks us from our car, better known as the Twinkie. Hopping fences is something I've learned to become better at after doing it so many times. However, I can't say the same about Pope. He's always struggled.

I swing my legs over the fence and land with a small 'oomf.' I look over my shoulder for my slow-poke friend and see him falling over the fence, landing on his side. I laugh as I pick him up by the shoulders.

JJ is waiting for us, clapping his hands like a coach on the sidelines at a football game because his players aren't running fast enough. But there's a smile on his face. "Get up, Pope, fatso's coming!"

"Hey!" The guard shouts behind me. He's halfway up the other side of the fence, but he doesn't have the strength to pull himself over completely. "Come here you little pricks!"

I hear the familiar honk coming from the van John B and I learned to drive in. My brother and Kie are waiting for us in the front seats of the Volkswagen van that would look better in the 70s than the 2020's but I love it. It fits our friend group perfectly. Plus I'd choose this car over any fancy Mercedes Tourons usually drive. The only time I've ever been in one of them is when I snuck off with a golf player from Georgia after a boneyard party. It was luxurious of course, but nothing like the Twinkie.

"Bus is leaving!" John B says as we get closer.

"Come on!" Kie yells at us from the passenger seat, banging the flat of her palm against the door.

I dive through the back first, landing on my elbows and rolling over. Pope and JJ follow less than a second later.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Gary calls after us as John B steps on the gas.

JJ leans out of the sliding side door that's still wide open. I lay on my back watching him as I try to catch my breath. His smile is contagious. For a boy who's been through hell and back, he smiles a lot, and I love every second of it.

He holds out his beer can as if he's offering it to the cop who's still trying to catch us...if he can catch up to it. "Check out Gary, gunnin' for a raise. Come on, Gary!"

"Wait. Slow down. Hey! You little pricks! Hey!"

"You're gonna give him a heart attack!" Kie tries to scold him but she can't fight the smile on her lips either as she watches from the side rearview mirror.

"You're so close! You can do it. There you go. They don't pay you enough bro."

"JJ, stop. Stop!" Kie says through her laughter.

I love Kie. She always tries to keep the peace between her friends and the world itself. Always the girl who raises money for charities that protect this Earth and save animals and solve world hunger. She's going to change the world someday. Her and Pope. Maybe if they can tolerate each other, they'll do it side by side.

JJ slumps back into the van with a toothy grin. He sits next to me and pulls me up so I'm sitting up straight. He dangles his arm around my shoulder and I lean further into his side. If I could choose one position to be in for the rest of my life it would be this one.

But I'd never admit that.

"Oh, come on. That sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," JJ says.

I hum in response and lean back into the seat behind me and stare out the window. A view of passing vibrant green leaves takes over the window as John B drives. The scene comforts me. Summer is my favorite season. No school. Just work and friends and the Outer Banks. Paradise on Earth, some may call it.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island. We're currently driving through Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

As John B drives further South, the houses get smaller and smaller, feeling more like home. This is the South side. Or as we like to call it, the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living bussing tables, washing yachts, running charters. The natural habitat of...drumroll, please...the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest members of the food chain.

I know... a little harsh, don't you think?

So, the downside of the Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of the Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

The second John B parks the car, the boys are gathering all their fishing gear and we set off to our next destination. The marina.

"Nice haul, dude. Look at that!" JJ teases my brother when he reels in what I think is the smallest fish I've ever seen. If it was orange, I would have thought it was my old pet goldfish from when I was six. "Been all bait for, like, three weeks."

John B pulls the fish off his hook and tosses it in JJ's direction. JJ flinches back, knocking into me and almost throwing me into the water below. That was probably my fault, though. I shouldn't be sitting on an open ledge, dangling my legs twenty feet above the water.

"Watch it, idiot!" I smack JJ upside the head after letting go of the death grip I had on his bicep when I was about to fall to my death. Well...I'd probably survive, but it would hurt like hell.

"It's not my fault you chose the most dangerous seat!" JJ retaliates.

Yeah, that's JJ. John B's best friend since the third grade, which subsequently makes him my best friend since the third grade too. He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Second best surfer I know. First being me of course. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat.

"Yeah, Mar, you should really get down from there," Kie says, walking over to me to help me down. I decide not to put up a fight. If I'm going to break my leg, I'm gonna do it in a surfing accident or something cool, not by falling off the dock.

Kiara. Or Kie as we call her. When not saving turtles or listening to Bob Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo, she hangs out with us. I'm not really sure why though. She's a rich kid, actually. Her family owns the Wreck, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash down with the tourists and my current job. You know, I'm not really sure how her parents feel about us. But they like me enough to bring them money towards their restaurant. I bring in a lot of regulars. Advertising is kind of my thing. I'm pretty sure all my friends, even my brother, have a thing for her.

Kie hands me a water bottle and lays her legs across my lap. She lies down on the wooden bench and bathes in the sunlight the day still has to offer. Kie is my best friend. Best secret holder known to man, for the most part.

"I think she needs a leash," Pope adds, making me pass him a glare.

"The only thing useful about a leash is how I can strangle you with it," I say.

"Kinky," JJ says and winks at me. "That's my girl."

John B slaps JJ upside the back of his head.

I'm lucky my sunburnt skin is hiding the blush that creeps along my cheeks.

Pope glares at both JJ and I which only makes my growing smirk widen.

Pope...the brains of the operation...finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And the smartest person I know. Little bit of a weirdo. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you. Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

"Trust me, if a leash was that easy, I would have tried a long time ago," John B mutters with a hint of a smile.

John Booker Routledge. My insufferable twin brother. Pain in my ass. Number one partner in crime. I hate him but I love him. Pretty much like any sibling relationship. We live in an old fish shack on the marsh. The Chateau as my dad use to call it. My dad disappeared at sea nine months ago looking for a shipwreck. I mean seriously, who disappears at sea these days? I miss him a lot. He may have been a little neglectful, but he took care of us the best that he could. My mom, however? She split when I was three. Last I heard she was in Colorado. At least I think it was Colorado. Honestly who knows and who cares.

Since my dad vanished, my Uncle T is supposedly my legal guardian. At the moment, he's in Mississippi, building houses which means it's just me right now, on my own, hangin' out with my brother and my friends.

Three months after my dad went missing, he was officially presumed dead. John B is more of an optimist than I am. He refuses to sign the paper and until he sees a dead body, he's not giving up. I back John B's decision, but I'm more realistic about what happened to my dad. The ocean, although my favorite place to be, is also one of the scariest.

My dad is probably dead and I will never get the closure that I want. So I'm dealing with it the best way I can, although I'm pretty sure everyone is a little worried about me, especially Kie now that John B is starting to follow in my footsteps by exhibiting reckless behavior.

But I'm getting better now. Day by Day. At least I wasn't acting like I did when my dad first left us.

                                                     ~ ~ ~

I woke up with a slap to my ankle and my head buried deep into my pillow. I groan from the abrupt living alarm clock that's now pacing my room and throwing clothes from my closet at me. It only makes me squeeze my eyes tighter in hopes for at least five more minutes of sleep.

"Seriously, Mar, we need to go. We're late." John B rips my blanket off my body, leaving me exposed in just my pajama boxer shorts and a tank top. The sudden chill sends goosebumps up my arms and legs.

"Go without me." I push myself up on my elbows and grab the clothes he threw at me. I knew meeting the social worker alone wasn't an option. Even if one of us goes to this stupid meeting, it will prove to the social worker that we're not being responsible enough to keep DCS off our backs. As far as they know, Uncle T is still living with us and keeping us safe.

"You have five minutes." John B ignores me and leaves my room, slamming my door shut.

I roll my eyes and tumble out of my soft bed. I slip on my jeans shorts and a white t shirt that I tie in a knot to make it a crop top. Underneath it I have on my plain black bikini, knowing that I will be surfing the second we get home. The News has been reporting a storm for weeks that's suppose to hit tonight. Vicious waves and crazy winds sends a thrill through my body.

We arrive to the social worker's office only two minutes late. I thought that was a sign of responsibility, but the social worker only looks at us with distaste as we sit in the two chairs in front of her desk.

"John, Marleigh, it's come to our attention that you two are unemancipated minors living on your own." Her hair is pulled back into a tight low bun and her glasses are perched on the tip of her nose. Her suit looks way too tight for comfort, like it's squeezing the life out of her.

John B scoffs and leans back into his seat as if we have nothing to worry about, but I know his heart is beating just as wildly as mine. "No....no." The social worker raises one brow in suspicion and glances in my direction to either confirm or deny what John B is saying. John B sees this and answers for me. "No."

I just shrug as a response, which only makes the social worker more weary. She leans into her desk and folds her hands on top of our folders that are piled in the middle. "I need honesty to help you. That's what we want, right?"

"Yeah. I'm being honest."

"Okay, then when is the last time you spoke to your uncle?"

John B looks down at his watch and purses his lips. "Uh...thirty-four minutes ago."

"When's the last time you saw him?"

"Two hours and...forty-three minutes ago?"

I hold myself back from rolling my eyes. It's clear on the social worker's face that she's not buying into any of John B's lies.

She sighs and turns to look at me. "We're gonna come out there tomorrow to talk to your uncle. If he's not there, we're gonna move forward with foster care." Foster care. The words make me dig my nails into the wood of the arms of the chair I'm in. The last place I ever wanna be is in foster care. I want to stay here on the island with my brother and our friends. Not with some random family who couldn't care less about us in a place I'm not familiar with. "I want to assure you, we're gonna find you a safe and loving home."

She says it like she's offering us a better life, one that we would want, one that sounds like the better option but it isn't. I ignore the worried look John B sends my way and watch the seconds go by on the clock above the door. We basically have twenty-four hours to find Uncle T or someone to be pretend to be him.

                                                  ~ ~ ~

The winds begin picking up early in the afternoon, the rain hitting by 5. On my way home from working at the Wreck, I watch people board up the windows of their stores and homes. All John B and I can do is hope that our little shack won't blow away by morning.

Unfortunately for Pope, he's at our house when John B catches me leaving the house with my board. When he tells me to stop, I'm prepared to put up a fight. I've been looking forward to surfing in this storm all day - something I can use to push the DCS lady out of my head and the promise she made that sounded more like a threat.

"You think you were gonna go out without me?" John B smirks and leads the way to the beach.

Pope follows behind us like a lost puppy, basically talking to himself as he tries to convince us that this is a bad idea. We stop at the edge of the beach. It's almost impossible to see the ocean through the wind and the rain.

"Those aren't surfable waves, bro," Pope says, squinting through the rain that splatters our faces wet.

"Says who?" I say, passing him a devious smirk and make a run for it towards the ocean.

I paddle past the choppy waves, letting the water knock me around like a feather in the wind. When I see a decent looking wave to ride, I prop myself up on my feet and stand. I lean into my board. The warmth that's taken over my body outruns the cold water I fall into when the waves crash over me. My body tumbles under the water and my board bumps against me. I try to swim back up to the surface but the current is strong. I don't know where I am and I can't see under the water. My nose burns when water rushes up my nostrils. I squeeze my eyes tight and just swim upwards in hope of reaching air. Maybe this was a bad idea, but the thrill is still keeping me excited.

I finally reach the surface after what feels like years. John B and Pope's screams are dull against the whistling wind. I hop back on my board and give the two guys a thumbs up and a wicked smile. Pope looks like he's about ready to have a heart attack and John B breathes out a sigh of relief as he paddles closer to me.

"You alright?" He asks me.

"Fine," I yell against the wind.

John B nods. He looks like he's about to say something else, but something over my shoulder catches his attention. I turn myself around, intrigued at what's he's seeing other than the water, clouds, and a bunch of rain. Then I see it. A boat that barely looks afloat, so far out that it looks like a speck against the rain.

"We should probably go," I say. I don't want John B's mind to run to what might have happened to Dad out there. Maybe he was caught by a storm like this, maybe his boat went overboard and his body is out there floating with the fishes. I don't know. The last thing I need him to do right now is speculate. Even if the same thoughts are running through my head, John B thinks he's still alive. These thoughts will keep him up all night. He doesn't move, however. "John B let's go."

                                                  ~ ~ ~

JJ is already laying on the pull out bed in my living room when I get out of the shower. JJ crashes here most days of the week. He'd much rather be here than with his drunk abusive dad. Our friends don't know the extent of how shitty his relationship really is with his dad. But I do. I found out when I was thirteen. JJ snuck through my bedroom window after a tough night with his dad. His face and torso were covered in bruises. It took everything in me not to burst out in tears right then and there. But for some reason, he trusted me of all people with his biggest secret. I cleaned him up and let him sleep in my bed with me. Every once in a while we repeat the process. Sometimes he's not even hurt, he just shows up. And I let him in because I like having him there.

I fall onto the mattress next to him and prop my head up on my hand, leaning on my elbow. I run my fingers through his hair, feeling satisfied and bubbly when he moans in response.

"When did you get here?" I ask him.

"You were in the shower. Don't worry I didn't peak, but I was tempted," He says into his pillow.

I use the same hand I had woven in his hair and punch his shoulder playfully, making him fall on his back. His lips turn up in a grin.

I lay there for a second, looking up at the ceiling. My eyes feel heavy, the events of the day officially taking over my body. I peek an eye over at JJ who's watching me carefully as if I might break under his fingertips.

"What?" I grin to myself, thankful for the darkness so he couldn't see the blush on my cheeks. Again.

"You all right?" He asks, pushing my hair out of my face so he can look straight into my eyes.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

JJ hesitates, like he's trying to pick the right words to say. I watch him closely, studying every mark and crevice on his face. Beautiful and clear like always. Even when it's covered in bruises and blemishes, he's handsome. I could look at him all day.

"You hate storms," He says.

"I can sleep through anything," I tell him. "And I don't hate storms. They make for...eventful surfing days."

His face drops to a more serious one. "You know what I mean."

I do. Storms have never really frightened me. Not really. But ever since my dad disappeared nine months ago, I worried that he would get caught in a storm like this, that by morning there would be a knock on my door from an officer who would tell me that a dead body has washed up on shore and they ID'd him as my father. The image leaves me with nightmares on nights like tonight.

JJ's the only one who knows this.

I don't like talking about it. Like JJ, we have this in common. So instead of telling him I'm fine and him not believing me, I pull the blanket at the edge of the mattress over our bodies and tuck myself into his side, laying my head on his shoulder. A position so intimate for just us "friends." I hope he can't feel my heart pounding beneath my skin, against his side. I let my body soften against his, feeling sleep take over me. I fall into a dreamless sleep next to JJ, hoping that the storm will be gone by the time we wake up.

[anasticep]

Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 2. Heroes and Villains or Let that foil shine

NOTE: Thanks again for your kind response to Part 1. I never expected that. It being my first tumblr post and a first meta in quite a long time I was blown away. I read all the tags, some were really hilarious. About having more than one brain cell xDDD I laughed so hard. It means a lot.

NOTE2: Please remember that the gifs are made by me, so don't crop, edit or give as yours.

Part 1.

Before diving into meta, I have to mention that the Villain of the story is actually one of the best in the decade. He’s cool, evil from the start, we understand his motives and we certainly are not supposed to love and make excuses for him. The writers made sure of that. So back to the main topic.

A foil is a character who contrasts with another character; typically, a character who contrasts with the protagonist, in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities of the protagonist

Foils in literature are not necessarily antagonists. A friend can be a foil or sometimes even a thing, a song. Whatever can make a good and real contrast to the protagonist. But it’s not very simple to use this author’s device and not fall down a deep hole. Because you have to make sure you did just the right amount of work to make it understandable for a reader, the things you want to contrast are definitely there and still you don't waste a character. On TV it can be even harder given limited air time. And, well, I don’t come across this device being used in full very often nowadays. It’s usually good and evil fighting for the plot. That’s why I personally appreciate JaTP so much.

Caleb is clearly a foil to Luke. As much as I’d love to say that Julie also has one, that’s not entirely true, at least not this season. Carrie is not her foil though it may seem so, and I really think that’s cool as Julie’s journey is being presented through her own demons and I'm going to cover that next. That being said, of course Caleb doubles as an antagonist plotwise, but I personally consider him being written more as a contract to Luke so we could see and appreciate his character and journey better.

1. Origins

Caleb and Luke have extremely similar backgrounds. They are both natural performers. They know how to deliver, because c’mon, “Now or Never” is something and so is “The other side of Hollywood”. Stage is their natural habitat, their element, power. Although they channel this power from completely different places.

Let’s start with our little ball of energy. It’s emphasized TWICE that he doesn’t care about the money aka the physical side of art.

All Luke wants is to make music. Connect with people. He is so happy just to be heard despite him loving to perform. Making music is what makes him feel alive and basically that’s enough. I think if there was no “hologram” magic at all, Luke would have still been extremely happy to make music with and for Julie. Because that’s the way he is.

But Caleb doesn’t know that. He knows, and I’m standing by that, right away that Luke is the one to aim at. Because we always feel the similarity in people. If Luke said yes, Reggie and Alex would have followed. So Caleb recognizes the passion and shoots at them what he thinks is appealing. And, oh boy, he delivers.

“The Other Side of Hollywood” is a perfect song to emphasize Luke and Caleb being foils for each other. Follow me here:

But these lines come from very different places. For Caleb the only thing that matters is himself. He owns the show, he IS the show. It’s about being famous, drowning in applause, admiration. Look at how he performs. Confident, yes, but still very much in control. He must keep his perfect face. No flaws, no real emotions, no real connection (Did you miss ME? I did too // This band is back). Whereas Luke is simply living the best time of his life each time he performs. Is it just jamming? Bring it on. Doing fun riffs? He’s all for it. He doesn’t care how he looks (though who could deny gorgeous sweaty Luke), he owns the show just because he is a natural.

So back to the business. Caleb immediately puts the boys in his own shoes:

On the other side we live like kings // Your soulprint on the walk of fame on the boulevard of your wildest dreams // I got your glamour, got your gold, got all you’ll ever need

And, I mean, he is not that wrong. You can see the appeal on the boys’ faces. They are young, passionate, handsome, talented musicians. Of course they wouldn’t deny fame. Of course they would want all that to some extent. And Caleb is very sure he pulled the right strings.

Watch me make a move, I’m your number one choice

Also I have to mention, as we are talking about TOSOH (IKEA name again) and it being a foil for Luke, thy lyrics still don’t forget about what is important for Reggie and Alex (we’ll talk about that just a bit later):

Welcome to the brotherhood -> Reggie

Where you won’t be misunderstood -> Alex

Then again, lots of foreshadowing in the song, if you listen carefully the lyrics are stressing the true colors of the offer:

A tomb with a view

Man, what a metaphor. I would have run out of there the minute I heard this line. But our boys share one brain cell (I can’t get over how funny this is) and it’s currently taken by Julie, so I don’t blame them.

Disappointment is huge. Caleb read it all wrong. So we are moving to the next point in our Heroes and Villains essay.

2. Recruitment

It’s very cool that Caleb offers the boys to join his band right after Luke offers Julie to join Sunset Curve. They both are going out of their ways to get that (although have different budgets apparently. But look, they live in a garage). Luke made a hit with a bunch of Julie’s not very well structured lines (I love Flying Solo with all my heart as a song, but as a poem it just looks weird to me) to impress her, and we all saw the show Caleb had thrown to impress the boys. Plus food. And fancy dancing. But here is where contrast comes again.

Caleb offers to join the band, yes, but only as backup singers. It’s his show, remember? It’s only about him. He doesn’t care if they are even good. He wants their magic under control.

Share the spotlight with ME / How do you like MY new band?!

Luke offering Julie a spot in the band is a completely different story. He saw what she is capable of. He instantly knows she must be the key to a new sound, a new level. And he, a natural performer, frontman, lead guitarist, steps back and gives the spotlight to Julie. To think about it, he could have just got her magic under control by giving her simple lines, incorporating piano in the songs and that’s all. They would be visible, he would still be a center of attention, and Julie herself wouldn't mind that much. But that’s not who Luke is. Yes, there is a funny scene of “Hey, I’m your lead singer” and “you don’t have to be mean”, but it’s just messing around. Because right after that he finishes Flying Solo, writes several other songs with Julie, seeks her approval of Sunset Curve songs and basically follows her around like an adorable excited puppy.

Moving on and back to the rejection. Again the writers are mirroring them. Julie quits the band & the boys decline the offer. What does Luke do? Well, he tries the way he knows: books a gig, makes Reggie and Alex sing in perfect harmonies and does his puppy eyes thing. And it doesn’t work. And Luke goes to reflect and then probably try to come up with a plan. But something tells me he would not have haunted Julie until she joined them.

What does Caleb do after the initial rejection? Puts a cursed stamp that leaves them no choice but to join HGC. You don’t need to say more.

But in fact the more I think about it, the more I suspect Caleb also not possessing enough mental capacity for a human being. Like, if it wasn’t for Willie, how would they even know? Has Caleb planned to simply show up one day and casually explain? Look, foils in everything.

“You’re in a tough spot… So, you wanna join the band?” | “Looked like it hurt… you know where to find me”

But we sidestepped a bit.

3. Pulling the strings

After the song Caleb comes out to consolidate his success. What he does is clever and, btw, that’s the only time he becomes Julie’s foil. They are stating basically the same thing.

Again, Julie is concerned about the band and the boys, while Caleb is only concerned about having them under control. But they both are pulling basically the right strings.

What is interesting, Caleb actually impressed the wrong person (and that person is our sweet Reggie). Luke follows the string Julie pulled. Although the offer is tempting, he insists twice that they are in a band already directly to Caleb and then in Eats&Beats he says "It's like Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound». No matter what Caleb promised, Luke is not affected at all although Caleb’s offer is a very-very safe choice.

Speaking about using friends as foils, Alex and Reggie also serve as contrast characters for Luke at some points. Luke’s indifference to money is first stressed through Alex who is clearly the chief accountant for the band. His lines about not getting tips, living in a garage and «it’s a little bit about the money» are waved aside by Luke. Reggie is clearly the most affected by the whole Bobbie thing. His lines «I don’t care what Julie said, I’m glad we scared Bobbie», «So we’re gonna forget about getting back at Trevor?» are getting a clear contrast by Luke’s «It’s what Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound» and «He has to live with that guilt».

While editing the article I realised a very cool thing I haven't noticed before. How badly Luke wants to go on tour. And again that's another thing Caleb offers as if reading his mind. That's actually brilliant, to think about it.

Caleb is a VERY good reader. He tests the waters with a speech about disappearing from stage and going around the world and all dreams coming true. Still he doesn’t know the boys and especially Luke, so his phrase “no real connection” doesn’t register that much.

But he learns. Remember the lines I’ve marked before?

Reggie is afraid they will not be together after they cross over. He is in desperate need of a family. So wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of your afterlife with your brothers? (Reggie's main insecurity is loneliness, feel of a broken family. That's why he is the most concerned about crossing over. Will his family stay intact?)

Alex is insecure, and not being understood by the people closest to him will always hit hard. So welcome to a place where you won’t be misunderstood. And actually we know there is a guy you like and find comfort in. (Alex's insecurity is growing up in times when he could not truly be himself even with his family and for sure not believing he would ever be able to find someone meant just for him)

That mirrors the whole Luke’s beach speech perfectly. Only comparing them we can truly appreciate why Luke is the leader. He shuts down his own demons to make Alex and Reggie remember that they are not alone (“and I believe in you”. sorry. Olicity fan).

Caleb makes them suffer to get what he wants. But this time he is careful with the words aimed at Luke. Yes, he repeats his words about vanishing and applauses BUT he makes sure that his words about CONNECTION are the key words for Luke. Intense look, calming voice, touching - these are all elements of hypnosis. And Luke is in a daze. (Continuing the parents' thing, for Luke the main insecurity is not managing to connect with his mom. Maybe that's such a big thing for him: through all these people he wanted to find that connection with her)

4. The Hero’s journey

That’s the best part actually but I won’t be saying anything new or that you don’t know. Luke is made of lyrics and music. That’s his soul, heart, that’s the feeling running through his veins. He doesn’t need anything other than that in his life. Playing for eternity is “a gift no musician would ever turn down”. But he actually does turn it down. As well as his dream to go see the world with his band (is there covid in jatp universe?). He is the one who resists the hardest to the pull. Luke, who always has a guitar in his hands, doesn't want to play. Because it’s not only about the music now. He has this amazing girl in his afterlife who was willing to accept them for who they were, helped Luke battle his own demons, eased his pain and made him open up. And it doesn’t make sense any longer without her anymore. “And you’re a part of me now till eternity”.

Caleb, being Luke’s foil, completely misses the whole point of connection. It’s not in his nature. His house band are just recruits (Just so happens you’re in luck we’ve got a vacancy). For Luke his band is his family (We are the only family we ever gonna need). The Connection theme is one of the main in the show. And it’s so cool to show it focused through Luke whose best way of interaction is a touch. But not being able to touch Julie Luke has to find other ways, although it’s not that simple for him. And Julie backs that up: We connect in so many other ways. They literally touched each other's souls. Without knowing she put a stamp of her own on Luke, Alex and Reggie. They’ve never felt loved enough, appreciated enough, supported enough. They’ve only had each other. And Julie’s stamp is love. And for Luke (as well as Reggie and Alex) from now on this girl is worth dying for all over again.

_______

So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it, as I for sure enjoyed writing. There is gonna be a part 3 about Julie and a few honorable mentions of parallels of the Pilot and the Finale (I hope at least to do all that). I’ve also figured very very cool connections in the songs and I can’t wait to share.

Also as I was heavily speaking about The Other side of Hollywood, @catty-words has a wonderful meta on rain metaphors here (sorry for tagging, if you don't want to be tagged), check it out if you somehow missed it. It's super clever.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

May I have a scenario/imagine, whichever makes more sense, of Trey, Rook, and Crewel trying to tame some sort of wild, magical invasive species of Poison Ivy that has taken over the greenhouse?

Crewel gives me perpetually disappointed wine aunt father vibes. This piece also lowkey turned out to be Trey x Rook, but you didn’t read that from me.

This imagine’s longer than my usual 1k word self-imposed limit, since it goes out to a friend of mine that’s been supporting me through final projects and exams. I’m not sure if they’d want me tagging them so publicly, but they know who they are.

Imagine this...

To Professor Crewel’s chagrin, members of the Science Club had never had strong academic intent. In actuality, the club was a thinly veiled excuse to bake cakes (just to find the perfect ratio of leaveners and sweeteners!) and to stalk watch students in their natural habitats (nothing wrong with an impromptu observational study, right?). Instead of test tubes and beakers, the lab benches were littered with cake pans and photographs of unsuspecting Savanaclaw students.

“I do wish you two would take this club more seriously,” Crewel would often gripe, fingers massaging his temples. “Science is not a play thing, it is a powerful tool with which we can use to redefine and reshape the world around us.”

Such were the woes of an instructor--but today, he had no time to lament.

Crewel’s jaw tightened as he gazed upon a sprawling mess--the shattered glass panes of the Botanical Garden, with massive stalks of ivy reaching for the skies. Casualties lined the ground--plants and flowers drained dry of their life, all withered and decayed. The ivy writhed in glee.

(He shouldn’t have been surprised that the headmaster summoned him and the Science Club to resolve the issue instead of hiring a real exterminator.)

“How unseemly,” Crewel noted, clicking his tongue. “Running amok and ruining so many of the specimens we’ve carefully cultivated... This shall not go unpunished.”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Clover.”

“Yes.” Trey stepped forward, his magical pen ready.

“Hunt.”

“Oui.” Rook followed suit, smoothly drawing forth his own pen.

“The time has come to prove your mettle,” Crewel announced, rapping his pointer against his palm. His onyx eyes seethed with a quiet, controlled rage. “Show this overgrown weed what the Science Club is truly capable of.”

At his command, the boys nodded and tore off toward the Botanical Garden.

Crewel held his ground. The corners of his mouth curled into a condescending smirk as he addressed the poison ivy. “Come here.”

An arm of ivy flew at him, so fast that it was but a blur.

An alive, but livid, blur.

“Heel!”

A column of fire erupted from Crewel’s pointer. His attack slammed against the plant, settings its leaves awash in embers. The rogue plant let out a sky-splitting roar.

The battle had just begun.

Trey ducked under an arc of burning ivy and threw open the door to the Botanical Garden. Tucking his limbs in, he barreled through right as more ivy snaked in to seal off the entrance once more.

He could feel the heat upon his back, the earth quaking under his feet, and Rook close behind him--yet he willed himself to keep his eyes glued ahead, even as he launched across the threshold and into a terrifying new realm.

The inside of the greenhouse now glistened with ivy--covering the glass panes, slowly strangling what few plants remained. The Botanical Garden had always been warm before, but it was unusually so today. Sweltering, and almost so humid that the floors and walls seem to eerily pulsate with life.

“Keep your wits about you, and don’t look back, boys,” Crewel had instructed them. “Just get in there, and cut it off at its source--at the heart.”

Trey’s eyes darted this way and that. Green, green, green. It all looked the same to him. Where in the world was the point of origin?

“Got any ideas?!” He glanced over his shoulder at his partner--and his protective goggles nearly went askew.

Rook had dropped to one knee, pressing a gloved hand against the floor--now a carpet of vines. “Hoooh! What a fascinating specimen!” he marveled. “Such destructive power, and yet it also sports this emerald sheen... Très manifique!”

“H-Hey... No offense, but I don’t think now’s the time to stop and sniff the roses. Or, well. I guess it would be ivy in this case.”

“Non, non! There is always time for beauty--even in dire situations!” Rook insisted, his hands continuing to grope around. His eyes suddenly creased, and his smile turned sly. “Ah, te voilà.”

“Even if you say that, that’s not going to help us fix this...!!”

“Calm yourself, Chevalier des Roses,” Rook advised with an airy laugh. He cupped a hand to his ear and beamed. “Listen closely! Surely even your own heart beckons you to still your worries.”

“Heart?” Trey straightened, adamant as he folded his arms. “Sorry, but I just don’t believe in stuff like that. Come on, Rook. We need to focus--Crewel-sensei’s trusting us with this task.”

He cast a concerned glance at the doorway, ensnared in vines. They’d have to blast their way through later--but if they stayed in this space for too long, they, too, would soon be drained of all their life force. “We can’t just mess around!”

“Ah--but you must put your faith in me as well, Chevalier des Roses!” Rook insisted, pointing to the patch of floor that he had been not-too-subtly groping earlier. “I implore you to lend me your strength!”

“You want me to attack the gr--?!” Trey froze mid-sentence. He had become vaguely aware of a gentle sensation creeping around his ankles.

In an instant, he was yanked into the air, dangling upside down like a useless rag doll. Blood rushed to his head, and his surroundings spun.

“Chevalier des Roses!!”

“I’m fine!! I-I’m fine!” Trey called--though he clearly wasn’t. “I can just--” He waved his magical pen, the air growing tense as a small ball of fire collected at his command.

“Non!” Rook warned, startling his classmate. “There is nothing to cushion your descent, mon amie! You will surely break a leg--and certainly not in the theatrical sense!”

He’s right. Trey’s fire extinguished itself, replaced by a chill crawling down his spine.

“A little help then?!”

Rook’s eyes widened. “You would give me your trust?”

“Not exactly like I have any other choice.” Trey would shrug, but it was a rather difficult motion to pull off while suspended midair--and far more troublesome, his veins ran cold. It was a sure sign of the ivy sapping his energy.

“Have no fear! Today, it shall be my turn to be the chevalier.” The hunter grinned from ear to ear, magical pen in hand.

“Please, Rook! Any day now--before I become plant food!” Trey’s voice was hoarse--from exasperation, or from the magical ivy, he wasn’t quite sure. Perhaps both.

“Just for today, I shall be your Chevalier D’amour.”

And with a confident wink, Rook plunged the ivy-covered floor into a sea of flames.

The accursed plant wailed as it shriveled to ash upon a backdrop of billowing smoke. Embers flickered and danced in the afternoon, the Botanical Garden set ablaze. Crewel took a step back, grimacing at the growing fire.

A figure emerged from the greenhouse, carrying another. The professor squinted into the smoke, pinpointing the familiar outline of his Science Club members--Rook, cradling a pale-looking Trey in his strong arms.

“Puppies.” Crewel pinched his temples.

“C’est chose faite--it is now done.” The brim of Rook’s hat eclipsed his eyes, making the typically cheery hunter appear dark to match his tone. Then he lifted his head, basking in the sunshine, and that somber moment was over. “All is well and good again, as it should be!”

“I... I thought I was going to die,” Trey groaned. “... And Rook, I appreciate you catching my fall, but you didn’t need to carry me out like you’re an action hero in a movie or something.”

“Are you able to still stand after an attack from that heinous plant?”

“Yeah. Just put me down.”

“Oui.”

Trey stood on shaky legs--and instinctively leaned on Rook’s shoulder.

“Well, boys. You’ve exterminated the ivy--as well as just about every other plant in the Botanical Garden. How exactly do you intend to atone for this?!” Crewel snapped, whipping his pointer at his students. “I believe my instructions were quite clear--destroy only the heart of the ivy.”

“The fault lies with me, Monsieur,” Rook declared, dipping into a bow. “We dallied for longer than was necessary, and in a moment of panic, I unleashed my magic.”

“Always one with a flair for the dramatic. Unfortunately, that will not serve you well in detention, Hunt.”

“Wait. Crewel-sensei, that’s not the whole story,” Trey interrupted. “Rook got me out of a pinch--and he deserves credit for that. He’s also the one that found out where the ivy’s heart was--buried in the floor itself. I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

The professor’s lips pursed into a straight line. “Clover, are you confessing to your own negligence?”

“I am.” He nodded firmly. “I’m the one that deserves the detention.”

“Trey-kun is not responsible!” Rook protested. “He is the one that attempted to set us on the right path. I refused to heed his advice, which led to events escalating.”

“I didn’t listen to Rook when he tried to tell me about what I needed to do.”

“I should have phrased it more concisely.”

“You--”

“Trey-kun--”

“Enough. It is clear to me that both of you contributed to this chaos.” Crewel sighed. “... Hunt, take Clover to the infirmary. I will put out the fire myself.

“... Are you letting us go?”

“Of course not. Once you’ve recovered, Clover... you boys will be restoring plants in the Botanical Garden for the remainder of the semester as punishment.”

“Ahhh, I should’ve known. Riddle’s not gonna like this at all.”

“Chin up, Chevalier des Roses! At the very least, we shall have each other’s company!” Rook laughs, smacking Trey on the back and sending his peer nearly doubling over.

Crewel sighed once more--he was disappointed, but not surprised.

His Science Club puppies still had a long way to go.

[wonderrdies]

if love be rough with you - part 2

In which you and Harry are professors at a prestigious Art and Language university and the animosity of part one is discussed. Also, you fuck.

disclaimer: just a huge thank you to everyone who said nice things about part one, especially @for-fucks-sake-h​. I hope y’all enjoy this one!

warnings: it has sex, folks. I’m not that good at writing it, but it’s in there. also, use condoms; these intellectuals are very fictional and also horny dumbasses. 

word-count: about 6,000 words

part 1

As the car rolled to a stop, lighting tore across the sky.

 “Come upstairs,” you said. Obnoxiously loud thunder boomed, providing much needed context for your invitation. You didn’t like the idea of him in your space, your privacy and vulnerability out in the open where he could pick them apart. The alternative was worse, though. Finding him annoying wasn’t the same as wanting him dead in a ditch.

“No need,” Harry said calmly, the way he did everything else.

“Look, just come upstairs and leave once the rain stops. You owe me, remember?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not expecting you to fight him on this. His coat was still draped over your shoulders and you had spent the last fifteen minutes in his comfortable leather seats, sipping on a water bottle he got you at a gas station. There was also a milk chocolate bar on your lap, the kind you used to eat during movie nights in university. You knew what he was thinking: if he had owed you, that didn’t look to be the case anymore. But half an hour of kindness didn’t erase the sound of his condescending darling making you feel small and embarrassed, especially when you were the one trying to help him. 

“I’m not going to say please, Harry. Let’s go.”

So you walked out into the pouring rain, barely keeping from slipping and falling on your ass. His coat precariously covered your hair as you fumbled for your keys and finally got into the building. 

Harry was right behind you, not saying a word as you climbed the stairs. The apartment looked so much smaller with him in it. You refused to feel embarrassed, but you could see him examining every corner from his spot next to the door as you dropped your purse and keys onto the counter that separated the kitchen and your bed.

"I—" you stopped yourself before telling him I know it's small. Having a home of your own, no matter how small, was not something you would apologize for. "Do you want something to drink or eat?"

You proceeded to take off your shoes, tie your hair back in a ponytail and brush your teeth, all while Harry stood, stiff, in the same spot without giving you an answer.

"Styles, what the hell?"

"Huh," was his brilliant response.

"Huh what?"

"You just look a little different, 's all." 

"Must be the gin," you said. "Speaking of which, do you want water or wine?"

"Water's good," smiling to himself, he said: "Thank you."

"What's so amusing?" 

His smile faded and you instantly regretted asking. While you poured his glass of water to the sound of heavy rain, Harry leaned on your door as if ready to run away at any second. It was a little hurtful, if you were being honest.

“You can have a seat, you know,” you handed him the glass, hoping to sound breezy and relaxed, or whatever. It didn’t come naturally. “The rain’s not going anywhere for awhile.”

Harry nodded and sitted on one of the two kitchen stools. The fact that he was so quiet almost made you miss his usual outspokenness. 

As he drank his water, you sorted through the drawers of your dresser in the awkward silence, pushing aside turtlenecks and pencil skirts so you could get dry and actually comfortable clothes. Two t-shirts, two boxer shorts.

“I’ll change into something dry, you should probably do it too,” you pointed to the clothes you just dropped onto the bed, his eyes on you the whole time. “I figure these might fit you.” And before you could talk yourself out of it, you said: “You can also practice saying words while I’m in there.”

The bathroom door clicked as it closed between the two of you. Taking a deep breath, you undressed while listening for any sign that he had moved from the kitchen stool. A sign that he was mirroring your every move, peeling off wet clothing while trying to picture the other side of the door. It was foolish to project your filthy thoughts into Harry, but you couldn’t help it. You just wanted so badly to believe that he was out there wanting you too, that he didn’t bring up that night so often just to humiliate you. 

The soft cotton of the old university t-shirt you wore to bed looked like something out of a time machine under the bright bathroom lights with him standing outside. How many nights had you worn that same thing and smiled at him from across whatever room, beating yourself up for not being able to just say hello? Maybe more than hello. 

All of it seemed to have happened many lives ago.

“Can I come out? Are you decent?” you asked, barely recognizing your own voice. It sounded too casual. 

“Decent, me?” his answer came muffled. “Never, darling.”

You walked out, only to find yourself in a scene straight out of a porno. Harry was leaning on your kitchen counter, amusement in his eyes, dressed in your shakespeare is my boyfriend extra large t-shirt and way-too-tight boxers. His lilac pants and cream sweater laid in a pile on your bed looking like an afterthought and, even though he looked so different from his usual posh self, his pearl necklace was still decorating his absolutely maddening neck. He looked so much bigger. Maybe it was the way your clothes clung to his biceps and thighs, or the fact you hadn’t been this close to him without heels in years. Maybe your apartment was just too small.

“Am I wearing some other guy’s underwear?” Harry asked, suddenly serious.

“Huh?”

He looked down, pointing to his restricted and very prominent bulge, and your face was suddenly on fire. This certainly couldn’t be considered an appropriate move for a co-worker, right?

“It’s mine, Styles. I wear them to bed,” you cleared your throat, looking up again. Tugging at your own, admittedly much looser, shorts, you said: “See?”

“Yeah,” his voice was rough, barely more than a whisper. You could feel his eyes all over you, like they were fingertips threatening to touch you but never quite doing so. A shiver, like the one in the pub, ran through you, and you were suddenly aware that your nipples were very much visible and poking through thin cotton.  “I see it.”

You stood still as he spoke again, trying to keep your eyes above his chin. But then again, those lips and eyes were not that much better than his cock straining against your clothes.

“Sorry about the weirdness earlier,” he continued. “I was just trying to get used to all this.”

“What’s all this?”

“You, so careless, in your natural habitat. It’s like the inside of this place is an alternate universe.”

-

An alternate universe, indeed. The hours of uninterrupted storming had eventually tired both of you out; you couldn’t let him stand in a corner or sit in a stiff stool all night. As it became clearer and clearer that he’d spend the night, you suggested watching a movie, even though it was obvious the two of you were exhausted. The whole thing was a poor attempt at avoiding the fact that there was no place for him to sleep but your bed. You certainly could handle smirks, teasing looks, sexually charged remarks, even handle his thighs and the outline of his cock in your clothes, or the vanilla smell he would definitely leave on your nerdy t-shirt. Would sitting in bed together and watching a movie be hard? Absolutely. But falling asleep next to him crossed some terrifying line; it had happened before, and the slightest possibility of having it happen again only so he’d use it against you later was just too much.

So now you were on your bed, backs resting against the headboard as you watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. While his legs stretched out beneath the shared gray comforter, yours were against your chest; if you curled up a little more, you’d probably disappear into thin air. His slightest move could be felt by you just by the shifting of the mattress, and the movie was next to inaudible for the sole reason that you couldn’t help but focus on the sound of him breathing right next to you. On your bed. Every few minutes you’d feel him staring at the side of your face, but your gaze remained stoically on the TV screen until he called your name in a whisper. 

“Yeah?” you answered, glassed over eyes still on the movie. The second task of the Triwizard Tournament had just begun. 

“I’m sorry.”

That got your attention. “What do you mean?”

“I just—” Now Harry was the one looking away from you. As if talking to the movie, he said: “I know the whole darling shit I say gets to you. And I know it’s gross to keep bringing up that night.”

Your breath got stuck in your throat. The whole thing was just too much; how dare he apologize and catch you off guard like that? Out of everything in this world he could say, that was what you least expected. It was not that you found him to be disgusting and immoral, or that you believed he acted mean because he was a genuinely bad person. You wouldn’t have put up with all the teasing if that had been the case. But you also couldn’t have imagined that he’d be brave or mature enough to apologise. 

Maybe that was related to the fact that you, out of pure pride and spite, couldn’t see yourself apologizing to him. 

“I think I do it because—”

“Styles,” you finally cut him off. “You don’t have to.”

“No, I want to. I want to tell you I’m sorry that I’m a dick to you only because I’m insecure and kind of a coward, to be honest.”

You scoffed before realizing how rude that was. 

“What?” he asked. You could see him tense up, his brows furrowing, and guilt started burning in your cheeks.

“Sorry,” you muttered. “It’s not funny, I just find it hard to believe you do things out of insecurity.”

“Well,” he said, “I find it hard not to be insecure when things happened the way they did.”

Great. 

“And how did things happen, huh? What are you even talking about, Harry?”

He sighed. His hand was halfway up to his face before it fell back onto the mattress af if he’d changed his mind about putting something between your eyes and his. Again, braver than you figured he could be.

“Look, I don’t want to fight. I guess I was just trying to make sure you didn’t forget.”

Suddenly there was no clarification needed. You looked at him as he nervously tugged at his pearls after having just admitted whatever happened between you two had meant something to him. At least it had meant enough that he needed you to remember it. How could I ever forget it?, you wanted to ask him. But it was stupid and cheesy, so you settled for wondering it in silence. How could you ever forget the giggles as he shut the bathroom door behind you, or the way you gasped as he fucked you with his fingers against the wall, his warm breath on your neck and his other palm keeping you quiet? There certainly was no forgetting his gaze through the rest of the graduation party, the brush of his hand against his lips like he wanted you to see what he was thinking about.

Once the party was almost over, he had walked over to you and said Please in the softest of voices while taking your hand. How could you ever forget that?

“I didn’t forget,” you told him now.

Harry must have seen something true in your expression, because he didn’t say another word until the movie was over. 

-

“Should I go?” he asked, voice thick after just waking up. He had inevitably fallen asleep during the third quarter of the movie. Also exhausted, you had laid beside him at some point, making sure to put as much space as possible between your bodies. It wasn’t a lot of space. 

The room was dark except for the street lights shining dimly through your curtains, so you could barely see him even though you were facing each other. His head was already on your extra pillow, your calves already on the brink of touching. Your comforter already smelled of vanilla. Should he go? Probably. But what would be the use of him leaving? There was more damage to be done if he were to drive on dark and slick roads without enough sleep. 

“No,” you murmured back. “Stay.”

“That’s what I told you,” he said, sleepiness nearly gone from his voice. “Back then.”

The shadow of a smile settled on your lips. “Yeah. I was so fucking awkward about the whole thing, wasn’t I?”

“No, I thought you looked cute in my kitchen.”

You chuckled and looked at his shoulder, because it seemed close enough to his face that he wouldn’t notice you couldn’t look him in the eye anymore. The nervous edge to your laughter seemed to echo in the room. 

“And then you laughed, just like that, when I told you to come back to bed.”

“I was embarrassed, Harry.”

“I could tell,” he said. Harry shifted a little; you could feel his leg leaning on yours as he got closer. “You kept tugging at my t-shirt like you wanted to hide your thighs from me.”

“Kind of pointless,” you said. He stayed quiet for a second too long as one of his legs found its way between yours. Your breath hitched in your throat even though there was no pressure; his thigh was just there, and if you moved just a tiny bit—

“Yeah, but I sort of appreciated it,” his hand touched your chin so lightly you could have imagined it. So much for looking away. Staring you in the eye, as stern as you’d ever seen him, he said: “I enjoyed watching you squirm.”

Fuck him. That’s not what insecure men sounded like. You turned away from him, your core rubbing against his thigh in the process of disentangling your legs. Hopefully the gasp leaving your lips had been made quieter by the sound of the covers moving and your body hitting the mattress. With Harry’s breath on the back of your neck, you anxiously moved, trying to find a comfortable position in which you could forget, for even a split of a second, that he was right there behind you. 

“Hey,” he said, amused. “I know I just said I like it when you squirm but maybe you should—”

A careless shift of your hips and your ass was suddenly right against his cock. 

“—stop.”

And he was hard. Now still, with your back to his front, you called his name.

“Harry?” It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but your voice trembled at the last second. 

“Sorry,” but he didn’t sound apologetic at all. “We were just talking about you in my shirt and all of that, so…”

“God, Styles.”

Harry laughed, and you felt it in the spot right under your ear. You pressed your thighs together since your frustration with his shamelessness wasn’t able to end the urge of grinding back against him. Just a little bit more, and then maybe you could fall asleep and wait until he was gone to masturbate and pretend this all had been a fever dream. 

His hand grabbed your waist harshly as you moved your ass again. 

“Are you sure you want this?”

You didn’t answer him, or ask what exactly this was, but you did push against him once more. Some stupid part of you hoped he would play along and let things go unspoken, but Harry just used the hand on your hip to keep you still as he spoke again.

“Say you’re sure,” he murmured. His mouth was closer now, and you could feel every word on his lips against your neck. The hand that rested on your waist fell to your stomach, pulling you into him. “And I’ll help you."

"Styles," you breathed out, looking down as he lifted your t-shirt just enough so his fingertips would brush the skin above the waistband of your shorts. "I don't—"

"What?" his chuckle echoed through your entire body. There wasn't an inch of space between the two of you. "Are you going to say you don't know what I'm talking about?" 

You choked on a whimper.

"All you have to do is ask," a light kiss under your ear. That was the first time he kissed you in years, and it almost broke you. But that wasn't what did it. Harry broke you by whispering, so quietly you could have imagined it: "I won't hold it against you, love."

The realisation that you believed him was enough to make you say a soft okay.

There was no hesitation; his hand slid down the front of your boxers, the heat of his palm right between your legs. Your thighs closed around him, a moan caught in your throat as two of his fingers rubbed your clit through your panties. You were a mess, it was true, but Harry didn't seem much better. His heavy breath sounded obscene against your neck, his cock twitching at the small of your back.

"Spread your legs," he said, struggling to touch you in such a tight space. It sounded like an order. 

"Don't tell me what to do," you said, barely disguising your lust behind annoyance. Then you spread your legs, letting Harry move his fingers in small circles that got you dripping without ever being enough. You tried shifting your hips to get more friction, but he kept rubbing you slowly as you soaked through your panties, seemingly entertained by your desperation. "Harry," you called, breathless.

"Yeah?" 

The hand that wasn't under your clothes came to tug on your hair, and you burned. Your scalp, your skin, your pussy. He set it all on fire. One of your hands gripped his thigh, a soft moan leaving your lips as he responded to your touch by tightening the hold on your makeshift ponytail.

"Touch me."

He didn't try pretending to not understand what you meant, which you were thankful for. Then he fucked that up by muttering, ever so fucking smug, "Don't tell me what to do."

"Asshole," you hissed at the same time he moved the fabric of your underwear aside to tease your entrance with the fingers that had been touching your clit.

"Don't be mean, love," he started fingering you, slow but firm, the filthy sound of your wetness echoing in the room as his fingers curled inside you. "I know how you really feel."

There was no way you could muster up an answer; eyes hazy and jaw slack with arousal, you let him fuck you for what felt like ages without being able to form a single word. Sometimes he'd brush his thumb against you clit just so you'd clench around his hand, whining quietly as he muffled his own sounds on the crook of your neck. Once or twice he appeared to think you were gone enough to not notice as he tried to get his cock away from your body in a futile attempt of self-restraint, but each time you pulled him back by the thigh, grinding into him and getting fucked deeper as a result. Harry punished you for that by pulling harder on your hair, delighting himself in the fact that it only made you wetter, your movements more eager.

As your hips stuttered at another soft touch to your clit, Harry whispered, "Does it feel good?"

What a prick. He wanted you praising him, didn't he? Wanted you admitting how hot this all was, how you would have let him do anything to you. Harry wanted you to tell him how good he was at pushing your every button, clearing every thought on your head until him filling you was all that was left. 

"What do you think?" you said between gritted teeth. Sweat dripped down the back of your neck as his fingers shifted in your cunt and he hit that particular spot inside you. Your glassy eyes fell shut at the sound of his voice.

"I think I missed this pussy," he said. You moaned as a third finger slid easily beside the others and the hand on your ponytail went down to your throat, over the chain of your necklace. "I think you can tell I did."

You could feel his hand hesitate on your neck, so you squeezed his thigh to assure him it was alright. Within a fraction of a second, the pressure on your throat tightened. If you could look down, you'd see your golden cross gleaming right below the hand he was choking you with. It was too much. You were going to cum and he could feel it.

"You feel incredible," Harry confessed. "I missed you."

You convulsed, a silent scream shaping your mouth as you rode out your orgasm, his three fingers still stuck between your legs. As the aftershocks stopped, you could faintly hear Harry whispering your name, the tenderness in his voice bringing tears to your eyes. But then again, maybe that was the intense orgasm. 

“Are you okay?”

His easygoing voice, usually so grating, sounded quite comforting now. You relaxed your thighs, and the sound of his fingers leaving you was just a little louder than the sigh you couldn’t hold back. You mumbled an agreement to his question, and you could feel his smile at the back of your neck as he said, “Just sensitive, then.” 

A beat of heavy silence, and then: “Can I touch you?”

He didn’t answer right away, even though you could still feel him hard behind you, and it killed you a little bit inside. You were about to roll away from him, already forming an excuse about cleaning up, when he spoke.

“You don’t have to,” he didn’t sound like he was smiling anymore. You wanted to turn and check, to look into his green eyes and try to find out what he was thinking, but you were scared. If his hesitation meant that you had been vulnerable for him when he couldn’t do the same for you— “I don’t want you to think that's why I apologized." 

You rolled your eyes at his chivalry, but were relieved by it all the same. 

“Styles,” you said. “I’m trusting you here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you finally rolled on the mattress so you could meet his eye. “Now take off your shorts.”

He smirked as you shoved the comforter off of both of your bodies, taking a second too long to admire the dimly lit outline of his body. “Y’think you’re gonna boss me around now, huh?”

“I think you’re gonna let me, if it gets you off,” you shrug.

Harry opens his mouth to argue, but stays silent once he sees you reaching for the hem of your t-shirt. You throw it to the ground and hope he doesn’t notice your expression as you make a mental note to pick it up later, but that’s obviously unnecessary since he’s staring at your chest, the glinting of the cross between your boobs and your hard nipples monopolizing his attention. His right hand, still messy with your juices, reaches out to touch you, but you lean back and make him watch as you lower your shorts and underwear in one go before kneeling back on the bed. 

“So?” 

He shook his head, unbelieving, and took one final look at your naked body before meeting your eyes. “You love this, don’t you?”

Harry undressed like you’d done; t-shirt, then shorts, then kneeling back on the bed. You wanted to look down at his cock, see the proof of how much you got to him, but couldn’t leave his gaze. There you both stood on your knees, silently staring at each other’s mere silhouettes. Like the gold of your chain, the pearls on his neck were more visible than the rest of him. “You love talking like we’re at some game you can win,” he clarified, smiling. 

“Are you saying you don’t do the same?” skepticism dripped down your words.

“I’m saying you can’t win.”

The way he could go from earnest to cocky in the blink of an eye was sort of giving you whiplash. It did make things interesting, though. He threw whatever he felt like saying your way, apparently without thinking twice; for the second time that night, you surprised yourself by thinking of him as brave. 

His clean hand came to touch your face, his thumb brushing your cheek in the most romantic gesture you had witnessed since he’d held your hand all the way back to his place when you were graduating university. Harry called your name like a prayer.

“Can I kiss you?”

It was such a weird question, considering you’d just cum all over his hand. But it felt so fitting, so right. Being attracted to him and having teasing banter were not questionable, that was just how you operated.  It had been taken to an extreme, sure, but it wasn’t new. This was new. You nodded anyway.

He met you halfway, his lips tasting yours as your bare bodies touched for the first time in years. You whimpered into each other's mouths, Harry's hands tangled in your hair while you held his face like it could break. You could feel his erection between you, twitching every now and again when your tongue dragged against his, some precum getting on your belly. 

"H," you moaned between kisses when one of his hands descended to your chest and teased your nipple. 

He stopped kissing you for a second too long, leaving your swollen lips tingling as you waited for him to catch his breath. But he didn't kiss you again, just stood there touching your boob and the back of your neck, eyes going over every inch of your face. You could feel yourself blushing at the attention, already at the brink of an awkward giggle, when he said quietly "You haven't called me that in a while," he cupped your face gently, then planted the ghost of a soft kiss to your lips. "I like it."

You smiled and kissed him again, because you were worried about what you would say if you put that kiss into words. Each feverish movement brought you closer until you were practically on top of him, sitting on his thigh. Harry grabbed your ass, urging you to move; you gasped as he pushed you to grind on his leg, no longer able to keep kissing his lips but definitely working on making a mess of his thigh. 

"Love," he whispered in your ear. "I really wanna fuck you. Can we do that?"

The nails digging into his back made Harry let out a breathy laugh. You made a move to touch his dick, but his hand grabbed yours right before you could. "I want you to cum on my thigh first."

"But you—" 

You sounded broken, legs burning as you rode his thigh frantically.

"I'll have my way with you, don't worry," he said. "So desperate to get on my dick, aren't you?"

The only sound of outrage you could muster was a low growl as you threw your head back, neck exposed for his teeth as your clit pulsed against the muscle of his leg. Harry kept holding onto you, assisting your every move as his lips worked on your neck. The sharp sting of his teeth followed by his tongue as he tended to the bruises he had just created, his soft curls on the side of your face, a tight grip on your ass and your back. 

"Are you going to come for me again so I can fuck that pussy like I've been wanting to?" 

Your hips stuttered and you came for the second time, whimpering and refusing to let him go as he gently laid you down on your back, still shaking. Harry tried to get up but you wouldn’t let his shoulders go, and he laughed against your lips as your mouth searched for his. 

“Y’know,” you said, voice sounding unnaturally raspy, words practically breathed into his mouth. “You can’t talk like that.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“It’s not fair, H.”

He didn’t argue with that. You felt him reaching between your bodies, hissing a little when he touched himself. “I’ll make it fair,” he told you. “Like it used to be. Okay?”

Maybe you had been made insane by your post-orgasm haze, because that made perfect sense. You nodded, not a bit of hesitation, as he teased your oversensitive clit with the head of his cock.

“Don’t tease, Styles,” you said, and it sounded so much more like your usual self that it brought a sparkle of defiance to Harry’s eyes. “Don’t even think about it.”

He arched an eyebrow, smirking, but seemed to give in to your command. “You know me too well.” 

Then he fucked into you slowly, and you could feel your cunt gripping his every inch as he bit into your neck again, muffling whatever sounds he felt like making. His pearls hung between you as he thrusted, losing all the control he had seconds ago. Harry was doing it fast and hard, a little out of it, until you caught his necklace between your teeth and he moved his hips with such precision that you held back a scream.

"Like that, huh?"

He grabbed one of your thighs and lifted it just enough to get the same angle everytime he moved into you. Your wetness made a mess of his crotch and the insides of your thighs, your eyes rolled behind your now closed eyelids, you drooled all over his pearls. Harry called your name, desperate, when you pulled his hair with enough strength to leave his scalp sore.

"I can't," he mumbled into your ruined neck, holding your thigh so hard it would be sure to bruise as he used his other arm as leverage to fuck you, fist tight on the comforter. "Sorry, love."

He moved as if he'd pull out, and you held him closer, letting his necklace fall from your lips. "No, H," you said. "It's ok."

His brows furrowed as he hesitated, torn between listening to your words or his own head, that knew better than to cum inside you. Not wearing a condom had been reckless enough, and he wasn’t a stupid kid anymore. 

“I’m on the pill,” you told him. A particularly sharp thrust followed your statement, and you turned your face away from him, staring at the arm supporting his body so Harry wouldn’t see the entirely fucked-out look on your face. You kissed his bicep softly, just a drag of your panting lips against his skin. “Just give it to me.”

That was enough for him to cum with a low drawn out groan followed by a quiet whimper of your name, body shaking over your own. Barely any time had passed when he pulled out of you, spilling onto your sheets and your thighs. You shivered, feeling his cum staining your skin as he mumbled nonsense into your throat.

Apparently the nonsense meant he still wasn’t done with you, because Harry started kissing down your side as soon as his legs could move enough to get him up the bed and kneeling on the ground. “Styles,” you said urgently, sitting up. “You don’t—”

“Shut up,” he said against the crook of your hip.

“Don’t be a dick—”

He interrupted you by licking a stripe from your entrance, still dripping in his cum, to your neglected clit. You cried out, too sensitive, as he licked, sucked, and kissed your swollen flesh until he had you coming for a third time, his chin glistening with the mess you made together as your lifeless body fell back on the bed. 

Harry stood up, still shaking a little, and pulled the comforter over you before falling onto the bed himself.

“Next time we do this,” he said, breathless, while you were still twitching from your last orgasm, and you found that very presumptuous of him. “I’ll bring over that old t-shirt so you can wear it.”

You turned slowly onto your side so you could face him, letting him see your puzzled expression. Then you remembered what he was talking about. That morning, with you in his kitchen, you had been wearing his but daddy, I love him t-shirt. You laughed, incredulous.

“Want me to call you daddy, H?” you joked. 

His cock twitched against your thigh. “Oh my God,” you cried out, cheeks hurting a little because you couldn’t help the widest smile. “I can’t believe you!”

The echo of his laughter followed you to sleep.

-

Harry woke up to silence and an empty bed. From where you sat at the kitchen counter, you could see him anxiously looking around as if he’d find at any second that you had panicked and left, abandoning him in your own apartment. The moments he spent searching for you made guilt tug at your heart; he knew you could, at any second, decide to pretend last night hadn’t happened. 

But the fact that you could didn’t mean that you would do it, so when he finally turned on the bed and met your eyes, you smiled softly.

“Good morning, Styles,” you said. “How do you feel about tea?”

You lifted your own mug in a sort of awkward toast. Harry didn’t seem to mind, though. He just smiled and nodded, hoping that would suffice as an answer. 

“Your clothes are in the dresser, but you can just take mine if they’re more comfortable.”

Harry dressed in silence, his cream sweater over your boxer shorts, as you poured his tea. You laid his mug beside your own, watching him. His hair was adorably disheveled, eyes a little swollen with sleep, and his thighs looked just as amazing as last night in your clothes. He also looked very cozy in his sweater, and the realisation that you wanted to hug him didn’t scare you as much as it would have yesterday. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, rubbing at his eyes with one hand and grabbing his tea from the counter with the other. He looked at you, fresh out of the shower and wearing a cardigan over a sundress, like Markham and your kitchenette had collided to form an outfit. “You look good.”

You shrugged but smiled, a relatively comfortable silence falling over the both of you.

“We should talk—”

“Do you want to—”

Harry put his mug to his lips to let you know you could speak first. You cleared your throat, at a loss for words.

"Last night was nice."

What a poet. Harry smirked, but didn't interrupt you.

"And I—” you took a deep breath, shifting your gaze to his hands so you wouldn't have to look him in the eye. He had very nice hands. "I'm sorry for the past couple years, too. I felt like you were trying to make my life harder just for a laugh, using whatever good thing had happened between us to hurt me. It made a little bitter."

He arched an eyebrow.

"Very bitter."

"And I was very childish," he said. "I was upset that you treated me like a stranger when I got to Markham, and I became a little shit about the whole thing."

"I just—I wanted to make something out of myself here. And then you showed up and I couldn't be that person around you. It drove me mad," you finally looked up at him. "You drive me mad."

Harry carefully put his mug on the counter, then took yours from you and did the same. With warm hands, he held your face while planting the sweetest kiss on your mouth.

"We'll do better," he whispered against your lips. "Won't we?" 

"Yeah," you whispered back. "We will."

-

But first, payback. Harry Styles could fuck you to the moon and back, or whatever it was he'd spent the last weekend doing, but he would not get away with last week's little stunt, or with robbing you of precious room 103. Your beige heels clicked on the creaking floors of the disgusting classroom where you taught on Mondays as you talked your students through next week’s lesson plan. Was it a little beyond your qualifications as someone with a master's on Literature? Yes. Would that stop you? Absolutely not. They seemed excited about the whole ordeal, and that was enough to convince you that you weren't being a bad teacher, exactly. Good teachers were fun, right? 

Maybe Harry had been a good teacher all along. Having that nice, kind thought cleared your conscience entirely as you proceeded with your plan. 

The teasing between you two wasn’t entirely gone throughout the week, but it did lose most of its mean edge. Calling him a fucking hippie, or whatever was something that could apparently be accomplished in a much more tender tone, the one you also used to say “Fuck off, H,” when he jokingly called you Professor Umbridge. Every day of the week he had driven you home after class, bought dinner that you ate together on your bed, and kissed your neck in very particular spots. Talking to him was surprisingly easy, and you could entertain each other for hours only by telling weird anecdotes both from university and Markham, friends and professors and colleagues and students all becoming the background to the life you had lived together even though you were apart. There was also so much you still had to learn about one another, childhood and teenage years and post-grad, and the time for all of it would eventually come. Now was the time for retribution. 

It was the next Monday, and both of your classes had started a few minutes ago. Well, his had. Your students were all standing around the corridor on the first floor, silently waiting in costume for their cue. 

The fact that Harry was so soft spoken made it pretty hard for you to pick an appropriately disturbing time to get the plan going, but at some point you could hear a few of his students’ voices. Assuming that meant a discussion was taking place, you nodded towards Richard, your Romeo, and he stepped forward.

Some of the other Drama students followed suit, prop torches in hand as the scene indicated, and together they burst into room 103 as Richard, with the poise of a Shakespearean character, recited loudly: “What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?”

Khalil, head held high, walked in right after and spoke as Benvolio. 

As the student playing Mercutio was saying something about gentle Romeo, you walked up the classroom door. 

Harry was standing behind his desk, your golden cross shining beneath his pearls; you had put the necklace on him as a joke during your Saturday dinner and he hadn’t taken it off since. His brows were furrowed and his mouth gaping as if he had forgotten to close it, while his students appeared to be mildly amused. Your kids without speaking parts were pacing between rows of desks on their way to a nonexistent ball as Mercutio, standing right before Harry, called to the Romeo at the back of the room. 

“You are a lover. Borrow Cupid’s wings and soar with them above a common bound.”

Harry smiled, and the part of you seeking silly revenge took the backseat for the slightest moment. He seemed to get over the initial shock of the disruption and watched them with a delighted curiosity. 

“Is love a tender thing?” Richard asked his classmate, but he could’ve been talking to the music professor. “Is it too rough , too rude, too boist’rous, and it pricks like thorn.”

Green eyes searched for you and found you leaning on the wooden door, ankles crossed nonchalantly and a triumphant smile on your face. 

“If love be rough with you,” Mercutio told Romeo,”be rough with love. Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.”

But Harry was not watching them anymore as you mouthed “Got you, Styles”, the scene unfolding behind the two of you as you won. 

[fakeloveaskblog]

Yay Loceit! (Ignore me, I have Loceit brainrot.) Can we see the zoo date? I would love to see the zoo date! (Is there a possibility of encountering Remus and make it a conjoined date? But, like, we don't tell him that's what it is? Because we don't wanna overwhelm the guy.)

(Words: 2712)

Janus: "Don't worry dear fiend. I have Loceit brainrot as well.....ALSo yes!! I totally haven't been waiting to tell someone all about the date. Pff totally not...So basically..."

When Janus arrived by the entrance of the zoo Logan was already waiting outside. They excitedly waved at each other before running up and clashing in a loving hug.

"So how is my one and only still not poisoned boyfriend doing?" Janus asked with a slight giggle in his voice.

“Very well now when I am with you”

Logan leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His boyfriend already had a big grin on his lips but it only grew with the kiss.

He had on a blue suspenders, jeans and a t-shirt with some dude printed on it. The snake had tried to dress extra nice for his first ever date (!!) so he had his long black skirt and his finest purple shirt.

“That is...Jean-luc Picard..right?” He pointed at Logan’s t-shirt.

He flapped his hands around “Correct! I see that the star trek watching is teaching you a lot!”

“Well I do have a good teacher so of course”

The compliment left rosy blush on Logan’s cheeks. He took his boyfriend’s hand and intertwined their fingers before walking into the zoo. It had a big outside area for different larger animals and then a bulding to the west filled with frogs, fish, snakes, etc, etc.

Neither of them were that interested in the large animals. Though Janus did snark about how he looked like a seal and Logan stopped to take photos of the bears so he could show them to Patty later.

It wasn't until they passed a sign Logan suddenly let up into happy stims. He pointed to a house with big look through windows.

"Birds!"

He dragged Janus along with him to one of the windows. kestrels, subirds and kingfishers were flying around and vibing among trees and hung out fruit treats. A small crowd around them was also looking at the different birds.

Logan pointed between his boyfriend and the birds as if Jan hadn’t already seen them. He kept stimming his arm back and forth.

"Their aerodynamics are so fascinating don’t you think. Aside from humans they are the animal that are consistently closest to space and all because of their biology. They are like natural born astronauts”

“I respect any creature who can leave any and all social situations by flying away. Big dick move as some” Remus “says” Janus replied.

“If birds had too big dicks I think it would disturb their flying but yes I get your point” He let out a dreamy sigh “Oh what I would do to be able to inspect bird teeth, not to even talk about their wings!”

Logan squeezed his hand and smiled at him before dragging him over to the next bird. It was several big secretary birds. They were walking instead of flying.

"These ones are known for eating snakes" Lo commented "Are you feeling frightened?"

"Ah yes darling, I am already close to death from fear" He replied in as much of a monotone he could muster. They both chuckled.

Logan went on a long ramble about how the different biology of the species made the flying look and work different. His voice went a bit louder than it usually was, it always got like that when he was excited. Janus wouldn’t have minded it if there weren’t other people there.

He nodded along to his boyfriend’s rant but kept glancing to the people around them. Some of them were looking at Logan. Janus gulped. Suddenly holding his boyfriends hand hurt.

Janus quietly moved his hand away. His throat tightened. The people weren’t looking anymore but it felt like they did, like ants crawling up his skin. It had probably been a stupid idea to wear the skirt.

Obviously Logan noticed but he didnt say anyrhing about it. He finished his rant and asked "Do you want to reunite with your relatives- I mean look at the snakes now?"

"I uh “ He forced a confident smirk “Of course darling. It it prime time to return to my people!!”

They walked away from the birds and went down the sunny path towards the house that stored snakes among other things. It was lined by neatly cut trees and homes for mammals. They didn’t hold hands.

Janus kept fiddling with his gloves to the point of not even looking where he was walking. He bit the inside of his cheek until it was bleeding.

“Are you feeling alright?” Logan asked.

“Never been better!”

“If it is about the hand holding feeling nervous is nothing to be embarrassed about. When I first held hands with Patty I got so flustered I proceeded to walk into a swing and break my glasses”

Janus glanced around to the people around them “Ah yes that is definitely why I’m acting this way. Spot on dear” 

His boyfriend looked in the same direction he did “Oh alright I understand now” He patted him on the shoulder “Well I will have you know I have taken part in multiple physical fights to protect Patty from harassement, I did win most of them. I will of course do the same thing for you”

He said it so casually Janus nearly lost it “Exscuse me wHAT?”

Logan leaned down so they were eye to eye and put his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders “Sweetheart I can and will break someone’s nose for you”

“That’s the most romantic thing someone has ever said to me”

“I would go for their kneecaps as well”

Janus clasped his hand over his heart and gasped in an overly dramatic tone “Oh such erotiscism you’re showing today!”

“I am legally obliged to show it off every now and then”

He straightened his back and continued to walk down the path. Janus hesitantly reached out to take his hand. Shame tugged at his heart but he buried his face against his boyfriend’s arm to try and ignore it. Logan gently moved his thumb up and down his skin in response.

“....I do still advise that you talk to Picani about it. I am aware it’s hard but if what you’ve told me about your mental health is true I believe it would be beneficial. I could help! I know Picani! Very intimately!”

“Darling please you don’t have to keep reminding me you’ve fucked my fake therapist” Janus sighed “I don’t know if I deserve to take up his time, I’m not That bad”

“Sweetie that is first degree bullshit” Logan replied very gently “There is scientifically no way to accurately compare two people’s mental healths to conclude which is worse. Trust me I did a study on it in college! Do I need to brag about my degree more?”

Janus let out a half hearted chuckle “I’ll think about it. Let’s focus on the snakes for now”

“Thinking about it is good enough for me” He pressed a kiss to his forehead.

They entered the building. The first room was lit in a calming blue because of the giant windows showing off octopuses and rays swimming around. A sign was pointing over to the frog and snake rooms.

Janus looked around the room in awe and- HOLY HELL REMUS WAS THERE. He sat crosslegged on a bench in front of the octopuses. He had headphones on and was focusing on the sketchbook in his hands. 

In a panic Janus started to drag his boyfriend with him to the frogs. Logan saw how flustered his boyfriend had suddenly become and looked around. He saw Remus as well and stopped in his tracks which forced his boyfriend to also stop.

“Does that happen to be the other guy you have a romantic interest in?”

“We’re here to look at snakes not at men Loganson!”

"Aww" Logan flapped his free hand "There are few things i like more than getting to see my partner being loved by someone else they love! We must talk to him"

"Oh- Oh god-" Janus let out while being tugged along.

Remus flinched when Logan shoved his ready to be shaken hand almost into his face. His whole body tensed to an uncomfortable degree.

"Greetings! I have no idea who you are!" Lo exclaimed.

He took off his headphones and looked up at him with panic in his eyes "Uh yeah" He saw Jan and immediately let out a breathe of relief. His shoulders relaxed slightly. "Hiya snakey~ Is This dude your snack?"

Janus was dying. He was dead. This was hell.

"NO! He's my sworn enemy! I'm here to use one of the sharks to kill him!"

Logan gasped "You are? How rude. Such a waste of the shark’s time when a bullet would do"

"Yeah!” Remus added “Anus! If that even is your real name-”

“It’s not”

“-I thought you would be much better at murder! Shark murder is sooo the 70's. Where's the orchestrated acrobatic dance knife throwing???"

Janus let out a dramatic huff "You simply don’t understand how hard it is to be a strong independent complete idiot and a serial murderer at the same time"

Logan nodded in sumpathy "Stranger would you like to accompany us on the rest of our zoo experience?"

He closed his sketchbook. Pages had been filled with doodles of the octopuses "Sure! I'm Remus by the way"

"Ah yes" They began to walk down the hallways lined by animal habitats. He held onto Janus’ hand "You were killed by your twin according to Roman mythology"

"I know!! That's why I chose it"

"Fascinating. I'm Logan. My parents chose it because of the X-man" His parents were also huge nerds.

“Hah dorks!” Remus said while skipping alongside them “Why are you holding hands? Is that a rule at zoos? Oh shit have I been doing zoos wrong???”

“I don’t think so. We are only doing it” Lo glanced at his still flustered boyfriend “.....to aggravate homophobes....yes...”

“COol!! Can I join?”

Logan nodded. Remus proceeded to take Janus’ free hand and happily tugged at it while skipping along. Jan had been wrong. NOW he was dying. His face was so hot from blushing he swore he could melt chocolate on it. The only way this could get ‘worse’ was if he suddenly grew a third arm and Remy appeared to hold it.

“Murder frogs!!” Remus exclaimed while stopping outside a window.

Inside sat several poison dart frogs in a pond surronded by leaves. They were in pretty neon colors and small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Remus jumped up and down from excitement before pressing his entire face up against the glass.

“They’re the most poisonous animal in the world!!! Snakey you should murder Lo with this one!! These bitches can kill like 10 people with 1 poison thingie!!! it’s so cool!!”

“I have read that they can live to up to 15 years so they have ample time to kill hundreds of people in their lifetime” Logan replied.

“!!!! You are SO right!!! That’s my life goal as well!” Remus turned to look around the room and his eyes turned as big as a cat’s “Fucking hell. Look at how THICK that lizard is!!!”

Janus kept being dragged around between the two while they explored the animals. The saw toads stacked on top of each other, insects swarming around and exactly 1 incredibly friendly chameleon who climbed across a tree to get as close to the glass as it could.

Just holding both of their hands was so much to take in but hearing them rant facts to each other while looking so so happy made his heart feel things he didn’t know it could feel. He wanted to kiss them both and beg them to please never ever shut up.

The zoo melted away as he daydreamed about living as a poly relationship. Getting to see them both be this close and happy every day. Getting to hold them both like this every day. Getting to fall asleep next to them. Oh he was so-

“Hey Snakey you’ve been pretty quiet” Remus interrupted “Whatcha think?”

“dfshkjskj” Janus very eloquently let out. He buried his flushed pink face in the fabric of Logan’s shirt.

“Huh. Exactly what I was thinking! Onwards to the snakes!!”

The snake room was oval shaped. The walls were made up of windows into different giant vivariums decorated with branches, warm rocks and food. In the biggest vivarium several big samar cobras were lazing about. They were both big enough and venomous enough to kill a man.

Janus let go of his crushes to press his palms against the glass and wave at the snakes. He looked back at his boyfriend with a big goofy grin “Look at these babies!!”

“They are indeed very pretty”

“They eat rats! Their venom is able to destroy tissue so if you get the venom in your eyes it can create total blindness!! They-” He stopped himself. Stopped his stimming as well “Sorry. I’m rambling”

Remus patted his shoulder “No. Go on. I wanna hear, about the other snakes as well. I promise” Logan nodded along.

Janus hesitated, but they both looked at him with such loving looks he quietly continued “Okay well what I was going to say was...”

They went around and looked at every snake. The other two happily listened to him infodump about every species there. Sometimes they held hands. Sometimes they all stimmed together. Janus was smiling so much his cheeks hurt.

They stayed sitting by the snakes. Janus leaned his head against the glass to bop his nose to the snakes while Remus and Logan ranted to each other about their favorite obscure sci-fi movies (they also exchanged numbers). 

The three of them had a sudden realization that they all loved murder mysteries and decided they had to have some sort of murder mustery movie night some time in the future.

(Logan also saw a poster about how around Christmas snake petting spots overseered by snake experts would be open. He didn’t tell the other two. He figured he would use it as a surprise Christmas gift)

Eventually the zoo got close to closing. It was Logan who had to drag them both away from the snakes and octopuses. The 2 drama kings acted like Lo was dragging them away from their children.

Once they stood on the street outside the zoo Remus said goodbye. For a moment it looked like he was moving in to hug Janus but he decided not to. He disappeared down the street to catch the bus.

“So” Logan turned to his boyfriend “Was it a satisfactory first date?”

Janus rolled his eyes before wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and moving up on his toes to kiss him on his nose “It was absolutely horrible darling! I hated every second of it!”

“Glad to hear it” His voice softened “I’m proud of you honey”

“It was just a date. It’s nothing. Nothing if it’s with you”

“Well I shall still be proud, because you can not stop me, and I shall still be percentage wise incredibly in love with you” He pressed a loving kiss to his forehead “I will see you at work then”

“Not if I’ve gotten my invisibility spell to work by then muhahah” Janus slowly let go of him “Love you!”

Janus stood by the entrance watching as his boyfriend (it still made him giddy to think that) went to his car. He gulped and tensed his shoulders once he was all alone. He walked over to a more desolate spot and sat down on the side of the payment.

He scrolled through the contacts on his phone while the image of Logan’s smile repeated in his brain. He let out a shaky breathe as he moved the phone up to his ear and listened to the signals.

“Hiya Janister!” The cheery voice of Dr. Picani rang out.

“Hello...I.....I would....I’m just looking to ask if there’s a chance I could book a time for solo therapy? I’m...I’m...honestly not so sure if I’m completely okay...or if my childhood was okay either, but I’m sure I want to get better”

[avasghost]

When We Drown Update #1

wip intro here.

DISCLAIMER: this is my original work. please do not plagiarize in any way.

hello!! i’m back with the first when we drown update!

so. i’m around 8000 words into the draft. i started writing on february 15, and its currently march 20, so its already been over a month which is ... wild. time flies when ur having fun kids.

its flowed a lot smoother than crane anatomy so far. i’m really enjoying the process, since i’m not trying that hard to make it good?? i didn’t know i was capable of “not trying to make it good” but maybe i am 👀

the writing style is very different from crane anatomy. CA is very flowery, but the prose in WWD is a lot plainer. i really like both prose styles, which is why it’s nice to be able to alternate between them when i feel like writing in one and not the other.

i used to get these random line ideas when i was only writing crane anatomy, but they didn’t fit the prose of that book. i’ve realized that those lines fit perfectly into the style of this book so yay my children found a home <3

excerpts under the cut.

chapter 1: the lighthouse

the story opens on a lighthouse on new years eve, 1999. this was an image that popped in my head while i was brainstorming and i decided to jump in and start writing because i was Intrigued. it’s a snowy night, and a woman and her four-year-old son (elias) are on the run from other members of the cult she is part of. we see her finally picking up the courage to run away, because unfortunately in this cult leaving isn’t allowed and they want to kill her. this is why she’s so depressed all the time because :) cult trauma :) they escape from their pursuers by hiding in the lantern room of a lighthouse, and then the woman gives birth to a daughter, the protagonist. her brother, elias, is referred to as “you”, and even though she wasn’t born yet, april narrates this scene because she’s been told the story so many times that she thinks of it almost like a memory, sometimes she wonders if she actually does remember it slightly.

the first line:

The first time I met you was on the lighthouse. It was the midwinter of 1999, new years eve, five p.m., already dark. I wasn’t born yet.

i quite like this opening! every opening i’ve written for the last four books has been good so that’s good

anyway here’s some night ocean and moon imagery:

The black ocean dilated in a gauzy breeze far below, waves ruffling like crow’s feathers. The distant sloshing drowned out some of the noise of the men’s boots clattering on the stairs. A cloud slipped in front of the moon, puddling its glow.

then the woman and elias hide under some tarps in the lantern room and the men who are hunting them come and look for them and somehow don’t find them which is completely unrealistic but :) if they got found april would never be born so :) that wouldn’t work would it :)

and then the men leave and april is born in the lantern room which was the most aesthetic birth i could think of okay. i had to. also the new years fireworks start going off:

We slept in the lantern tower. The beam that guided sailors lanced over our heads, a pinprick you hardly noticed. The fireworks all burst at once – a blur of  orange, green and blue lights popcorning in the dark. I was tiny, too skinny, I shouldn’t have survived the night, but I did. Mother told me years later that I was the last baby of the 20th century, and that made me lucky.

the irony <3

chapter 2: lacuna

this is a chapter that takes place years later (and covers the first nine years of april’s life) and talks about her awful childhood. her older brother, elias, is her only friend other than two other girls (Elena and Magnolia). lets just say her life is terrible and i’m v happy i’m not her!

Mother always said I looked like her, and you looked like our father. I never thought so, even though I’d never seen pictures of him. Mother never showed us any. I couldn’t bring myself to associate you with him. From what I’d heard of father, you and him were opposites, different entities, born in different worlds and buried in different graveyards.

and their mother tells the story of april’s birth so often that april thinks of it as a memory, which is why she was able to narrate it:

She retold the story of my birth so frequently that every detail was visceral in my mind: the snow sparkling in juts of moonlight, a lonely rowboat almost invisible in the dark sea, the footsteps thudding along the passage, fireworks sparking in the sky and lighting the night on fire.

chapter 3: found and lost

in chapter three, ten-year-old april and fourteen-year-old elias play hide and seek and april fails to find elias. he is unfortunately never seen again.

the first line of the chapter:

There was a stretch of time when life was at its fullest, even if, for me, that meant half-empty. Ten years old, you were fourteen. Still friends, we didn’t share the usual sibling rivalry. It was midwinter, four days before my birthday. Ice glossed the branches of the spindly elm trees that studded our quiet street, scabbed the pavement so it was hard to walk.

yes i know this is set in BC and it doesn’t snow that much here but the aesthetic was too perfect so this is apparently an alternate BC where it snows a lot <3

another brief lighthouse description:

The lighthouse was a pinnacle that made an incision in the sky, clouds spiralled around it. Close enough to walk, too far to see in detail. Its lonely beam jittered over the water, even in broad daylight.

april counts and then goes to look for elias

Snow crinkled in my mittens, numbed my fingers so I could hardly move them. Rice-paper clouds obscured most of the sun, so the light that dribbled through was watery and lukewarm.

but she can’t find him

I searched every corner of the forest, every backyard of every stranger, I searched the lighthouse where I was born, I searched the rim of the ocean, which churned like a flame, licking the sand, eating it, spitting it out. The world snowglobed around me, disorientating every thought and movement. No birds, no beasts, no you. In that frozen world I was alone. The sky melted into a deep Aegean blue, and the stars winked like exit wounds, every tear an ocean, every finger an ice cap. Tears shuddered down my cheeks. They shattered on the icy pavement as I walked home, hoping you would hop out from behind a tree, a house. Maybe you were already home, maybe this was all a joke.

and time passes and they still can’t find him

Everyone said you must have drowned, even though they searched the ocean floor for days and never found your body. Maybe it had already drifted beyond our reach, they said. Maybe you were eaten by something, and your remains coated the mouth of some sea monster long assumed to be extinct.

at the end of chapter three, there’s a scene break that flashes forward to when april is fourteen, walking along the beach in a mist, and she sees elias’s ghost for the first time, and is momentarily convinced that he’s still alive, just like she thought.

It was almost unnoticeable, the way you popped up. A face in my peripheral, probably just a memory in the corner of my mind. But when I looked, you were there: a pearly mist with a face, eyes, a mouth. You breathed daylight, basked in fog like a natural habitat. I stared, unsure of what you were, where you were. Was this it? Had I been right all along? You were here, drifting in front of me, disembodied but still very much alive.

chapter 4: gooseberries

short flashback chapter! i wrote this entire chapter in about half an hour. its only 700 words, but i’m a very slow writer and that’s a lot of words for me to write in such a short time. also this chapter helped me realize that i want to write this book non-linearly! i love non-linear books and i think its a perfect form for this book!

the flashback goes to when april is still a baby (i know she shouldn’t be able to remember this but? she just does okay) and their mother takes her and elias to the woods and they hide in the roots of this tree while she goes and gets stuff for them to eat: gooseberries and pine needles (had to look up an article about edible wilderness food). april chokes on a gooseberry and elias helps her, which creates trust, and distrust of the mother because she didn’t try to help at all. thats it thats the chapter. not entirely happy with this, it needs a lot of work, but i think its still necessary to keep in the book for now.

She left, and like a mother bird, found food and brought back heaps of veiny gooseberries, her pockets stuffed with red pine needles, which she knew were edible from a wilderness survival course she took in high school. I had no teeth back then, the craggy flesh of my gums wasn’t enough to chew berries or pine needles, my throat too frail to swallow.

that’s all i have for this update! i know i said in the wip intro that there wouldn’t be updates very often, but i think the next WWD update will be soon because i’m really in flow atm!

- Ava

Taglist (please ask to be added or removed!) : @shaelinwrites​​ @august-iswriting​​ @wildswrites​ @nodeadnarrators​ @annlillyjose​ @shaonharryandpannisim​ @letsgetsquiggly​ @strangerays​ @mel-writes-with-her-dragons​  @chloeswords​ @teaandtypewriters​​

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