#they had whole private networks to exchange stories about me

[mothslimes]

sometimes im like tbh my mental issues are pretty subtle..And then I remember all the shit I did in school. because turns out they're only subtle because I'm an adult now and can leave any situation that makes me uncomfortable unlike in school :sob: I used to like...actually scream. and hit people including teachers. and scratch my arms until they bled. and sit on the floor in the classroom rocking back and forth and crying. very normal behavior, yes mikael

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[itsclydebitches]

Discredit Pt. 2: More Recommended Reviews For A.Z. Fell’s

Alright, folks. Some notes first: 

1. You all rock. I’m sending out 20k+ virtual hugs for all the notes I NEVER expected to get on this nonsense. 

2. This is probably the final section, just because I’m not sure I can adequately follow up part one and it might be foolish to attempt it here. Let alone twice. But for now, here we go. 

3. Kudos to the anon who reminded me of Aziraphale’s cash-only policy <3 

4. Nicole Y’s review is based off an actual comment I read years ago, but heaven only knows where online it was. I’ve got the memory of a goldfish. 

5. Trigger warning for the use of a queer slur in this. It’s the same review as above, number 5 if you want to avoid it. 

6. There’s a text-only version of just the reviews at the end, after all the images. I’ll upload that to my Sparse Clutter collection on AO3 in a bit. 

Bonus 7. People thinking this is a real shop deserve all the good things in this world. 

That’s all I’ve got. Hope you enjoy! 👍

****************************************************************************

I’m a simple guy who likes simple jokes. If there’s a whoopee cushion I plant it. I will call you up to ask if your refrigerator is running and then tell you to go catch it. (Actually that one died out so thoroughly it’s actually capable of a comeback now!). Yes, I’m a dad and yes, I have a t-shirt that says Dad Jokes? I Think You Mean Rad Jokes! which I wear un-ironically every Saturday. All of which is just to say that my wife was well prepared for my stupidity when I walked into Fell’s.

I? I was not.

You see the bibles when you walk in? The ones to the left? Let them be. Don’t even look at them. Definitely don’t pick out the fanciest one you can find and absolutely don’t walk up to the owner with it held in your pudgy little fingers, grinning like a loon, cheerfully asking whether this should be in the fiction section. Just don’t. Mark my words you’ll regret it. Though your wife won’t. She’ll get a great old laugh out of it all.

In conclusion: it’s quite possible that mama did raise a fool and he just got his ass verbally whooped by a guy in a bowtie.  

***

Shout-out to Mr. Fell for being the only decent bloke in this city. I’ve popped in and out of his store for years—including before I started transitioning. So he knew my dead name, dead look, whole shebang and I was definitely nervous to play the ‘You know me, but this is what’s changed and are you gonna throw a fit about it?’ game.

You know what he said? “Oh, Rose! What a lovely choice. Crowley dear, why aren’t you growing any roses? Some white ones would look splendid next to my Henredon chair.”

That’s it. He just went straight into dragging his partner for not giving him roses. So hey, Mom? Next time you’re snooping through my social media why don’t you explain to all these nice people why the 50+yo book seller accepts me in ways you won’t. Don’t go telling me age is an excuse or that you’re ‘Stuck in your ways.’ I’ve watched Fell dress in the same damn clothes since I was ten!!

Yeah. Sorry. Rant over. Fell’s a gem. That’s my take. Rose out.

***

Anyone else in the shop when that guy started yelling about buying pornography? And then got escorted into the back room for some ‘private conversation’? Well done, Mr. Fell! Didn’t know you had it in you.

***

Alright alright alright alright I am TOTALLY calm about this.

Went into A.Z. Fell’s last Thursday. Not because I knew anything about the place. Just because I’ve been hitting up every bookshop within a twenty-mile radius, asking if they’re hosting any book signings. Long story short I self-published my novel Blight last month—which you can get for a mere £5 here but I swear this isn’t a promotional thing I’m just BROKE—and have been looking for networking opportunities, tips, stuff like that. So the owner listened politely as I explained all this. Then said he didn’t do anything of that sort, which didn’t surprise me given the shop’s vibe.

But then? Then??? He offered to let me do a signing there??????

As said. Totally calm about this. This man either plans to kidnap me or is actually giving me my first shot at an audience outside my blog. AKA totally worth the risk.

Tuesday the 9th. 7:00pm. Just in case anyone’s interested ;)

***

holy sweet baby jesus i was tripping balls last week you tryin’ to tell me that kING KONG SIZED FANGED FUCK SNAKE IS REAL

***

Witnessed the most perfect exchange the other day:

Grumpy Dude With No Manners: “You. Boy. Where’s the man I spoke with over the phone?”

Mr. Fell’s Partner Who Knows Damn Well Only Two of Them Work There But Clearly Doesn’t Like This Guy’s Tone: “Did this man give you his name?”

Grumpy Dude: “Might have. Don’t remember. Sounded like a fairy though.”

Me: “....”

My girlfriend: “....”

This Poor Sweet Startled Kid On Our Left: “?!?!?!?”

Fell’s Partner In The Drollest Voice I’ve Ever Heard: “None of us have wings. Out!”

***

This shop gets full stars simply because every time I walk in they’re playing Queen.

I mean, I’ve walked in once, but once is enough when you’ve got Crazy Little Thing Called Love blasting full volume.

***

Okay, I’m still kind of shaken up but I needed to write this out somewhere and this seemed as good a place as any.

I spilled my latte on a book. Just tripped on thin air, popped the lid, and chucked a venti’s worth of coffee all over a very expensive looking text. I didn’t mean to, obviously, but it happened and I just started bawling on the spot. Full on sobs because this semester has been absolute hell, I ruined this guy’s antique, there’s no way I can pay for it, I can’t even sneak away because I’m drawing the whole store’s attention...just all the things all at once. I really was straight up panicking and was seconds away from pulling out my inhaler. I couldn’t breathe.

And then Mr. Fell showed up.

Jesus it’s embarrassing to admit but I think I hit him once or twice. On the arms I mean, because he was trying to touch me and I figured, I don’t know, it was a restraint or something. He was going to call the police and hold me until they got there. But then he managed to start rubbing my back and I lost it like I hadn’t already been bawling my eyes out in this shop. Ever cry into a perfect stranger’s chest? I have! But if Mr. Fell seemed to mind he definitely didn’t show it. Just kept holding me while I probably ruined his shirt and then took me into the back and made me a new coffee in this cute little angel mug. He let me stay there while I called my sister and waited for her to arrive.

She’s a good twenty minutes outside of Soho, so we talked for a while. It’s not like Mr. Fell could fix my shit roommate or bio classes, but I guess just talking about it all really helped. I was a lot calmer by the time my sis arrived and Mr. Fell insisted I come back any time I wanted—for browsing or more coffee.

Of course, sis offered to pay for the book herself. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so surprised in my life. “Certainly not!” he said. “Contrary to popular belief, no one should pay for their mistakes. It’s what makes you all so wonderfully human.”

So yeah. Thanks, Mr. Fell.

***

This little shop must have started a book club for kids! Lately I’ve seen the same group of children hanging out at Fell’s. Three boys and a girl. They’re a bit rambunctious at times, but who isn’t at that age? So wonderful seeing literature passed down to the next generation. Even if some of it is rather questionable looking...

***

It’s an honest crime that more of you aren’t talking about what a wonderful bookstore this is.

I’m a book lover at heart and Fell’s always makes me feel like I’m coming home. I just arrived somewhere safe and familiar after a particularly harrowing day. I’ve slipped under the covers of my bed after dinner and a bubble bath. It’s something like that, but with an element of surprise too. One of the reasons why I adore private and used shops over chain stores is that little touch of chaos. You walk in and sure, there are general sections to browse, but everything is just a little bit disorganized from people leafing through books and then putting them back somewhere else. There’s no real record keeping, you’ve just gotta head to one particular corner and hope for the best. It’s not the sort of place you go to if you want something specific because the chances of them having it are slim—that’s just how the universe works—and even if they did no employee knows where it is anymore.

But if you wander the shelves for a while, crouch down low to get a look at everything on the bottom shelf, pay attention to the books that don’t have easy to read titles or any summaries to speak of... you just might find something you didn’t know you were looking for. That’s Fell’s: the comfort of the familiar and the excitement of the unknown.

*** A lot of people might assume that these stories are embellished or outright made up, but as a bookseller myself going on twenty years I believe every single one of them.

That being said, I accidentally moved a rug and found chalk sigils that look like they belong in a cult. Make of that what you will.

***

There’s a special place in hell for 21st century shop owners that only take cash. Who carries cash anymore? Not me! I haven’t bothered with that nonsense in years! You can get a card reader for 15 pounds on Amazon. Or you know what? Be stingy and pay 7 for the little attachment on your phone. This place is nuts if it thinks it’s going to survive much longer on a cash-only policy, especially with some books that look like they’re worth hundreds or thousands of pounds! Yeah, yeah, just let me pull out this giant wad of bills for you. I’ll carry them around a crime-laden city because there’s no ATM near you either.

I mean jesus, you’d think this guy didn’t want to sell anything.

***

I walked in. There was a man screaming at a fern while another threatened him with an umbrella. I walked out.

5 stars do recommend.

***

I once walked in on the same (?) guy yelling at a book for daring to fall on the owner’s head. I think that’s just a Thing over there.

***

Like a lot of people here I didn’t actually go to Fell’s for any books (flat tire, Angel Recovery taking forever) and ended up staying three hours (not because of Angel). No, I wandered towards the back and found this ancient CRT set propped on a table of books, the kind that my Dad used to watch Twilight Zone on. This lanky guy had a marathon of Gilmore Girls going... though how he was managing that with a broken antenna and no DVR, I really don’t know. But yeah. He told me to pull up a chair and I did. Guy gave me popcorn.

I wish I’d paid a little more attention to his name. Charlie? Curley? I really can’t remember, but thanks for the enjoyable afternoon, man.

***

I BOUGHT A BOOK HERE

Not sure how though. Just kinda happened. First edition of Just William. Frankly I didn’t even want the thing, but the owner basically shoved me out the door with it when I took two seconds to look at the spine. Odd that he was so willing to part with this one.

Update: ... hold up. I didn’t buy a book because I never actually paid the guy. ‘Basically shoved me out the door’ was literal. Do I go back??

***

This page has really gone feral the last couple of months so I’m just gonna bite the bullet and say it:

Anyone notice that Fell’s snake and Fell’s partner are never in the same room together?

***

I really don’t like the implications of this…

***

This is precisely why the Internet has turned into a cesspool. You all should be ashamed of some of the stuff you’re writing here. Can’t two men just be friends anymore? Two real life men? These guys aren’t some characters for you to ‘ship’ or whatever. Quit making outrageous assumptions about their sexualities and use this website for what it’s actually for: reviewing the bookshop. Honestly I’m so sick of this sort of this shit.

***

Dude. They run a queer-focused shop together with a flat on the second floor. Fell calls the guy ‘Dear’ and he’s always calling him ‘Angel.’ People have literally seen them kissing. If you want I can give you the number of my physician. He might be able to help you pull your head out of your ass.

***

What the hell is your problem? I’m literally just reminding people to stop making assumptions. It’s gross and insulting. These guys check their Yelp page. You really think they’re gonna be okay with this stuff?

Also: I’m not the five-year-old relying on insults, so.

***

Making an account purely to set the record straight: I’m the hot twink in question and I married that angel. Peace

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight]

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. ( I am trash at summaries. )  

Author’s Note: If you want to be tagged in this, let me know. 

_____________________________________________________________________

“By now you already know Bruce Wayne is officially off the market. Wayne is engaged to his girlfriend, now identified as Demetria Gallagher. Ms. Gallagher was an employee with us here at GCN, however, we weren’t aware of the relationship between her and Mr. Wayne. Ms. Gallagher is no longer with GCN and has parted with the network on the most amicable of terms. On behalf of everyone here at GCN, we wish her and Mr. Wayne the best and she will be missed in the newsroom.”

Demetria shut off the television and leaned back in bed.

Amicable. What a lie. It was more of a dismissal, a “hey, congrats on the engagement but we have to fire you because it’s a conflict of interest.”

In truth, she’s expected it to happen. Bruce was a fixture of the media, considering his family company Wayne Enterprises practically ran the city. She knew the second she’d accepted his proposal, she’d have to quit. The plan was to give two weeks notice and then let it be known to the world they were engaged.

But the person who tipped off the Gotham Times had other plans.

The newspaper ran the day she went to resign, the engagement making front page news. A picture of her and Bruce holding hands, leaving the back of a restaurant from two nights prior.

She was mortified as all eyes fixated on her as she walked in and out of the newsroom. The whispers, the side eyes, simple actions weighed heavily on her and made her beyond vulnerable.

There was one that killed her.

“Why her though?”

Throughout the year they’d been together, she’d wondered why Bruce had chosen her when he had his pick of any woman he wanted. She wasn’t unattractive but she’d seen the women he had been seen with prior. Yet she never asked, afraid to step into such a territory.

Now here she was, in Bruce’s bed, jobless and unsure of what she was to do. Granted, it wasn’t the worst position in the world to be in. She still had money she’d saved from working and was about to get her security deposit back from her apartment in Gotham. So really, who was she to complain?

She eyed her notebook on the nightstand and figured if she couldn’t go back to her job, she could make a list of what needed to be done to clear out her apartment and move into Bruce’s place.

Unbeknownst to her, Bruce stepped into their bedroom a towel wrapped around his waist. His eyes fell to the sparkling pear-shaped diamond, with tiny diamonds around the band. He smiled to himself as he sat on the edge of her side of the bed.

Demetria could feel his hand on her legs and smiled to herself as she continued to write.

“What are you writing?” he asked.

“Just what I need to get done today,” she sighed. “Mainly breaking down the moving process for today.”

“I told you, I could hire people for that.”

“And I told you that while I appreciate it, I want to do it myself.”

Bruce sighed, catching the underlying tone in her response. In truth, he’d felt guilty for what happened. He knew how desperately she wanted control on how she left, and for someone to take that away from her angered him. He loved her need for independence, never once in their relationship asking for luxurious jewelry or fancy trips or expensive dinners, just asking for him and his time and his commitment. While it was difficult considering his Batman schedule, it would be worth it when she would look at him and tell him she loved him and appreciated him. 

She eyed Bruce and put her pen and notebook down. She scooted toward him and ran her hands through his hair. 

“I love that you want to help me, but you know how I am,” she told him.

He grabbed her hand, kissing it. “I know.”

“I will, however, need your help with this whole ‘being Mrs. Wayne’ thing so you’ll have that to look forward to,” she chuckled. 

He laughed. “I can assure you, it’s not that difficult.” 

“But you always told me how involved your mom was with the charities here and I want to do that.” 

She eyed his left forearm where a freshly stitched wound was. She leaned up. 

“Holy shit, what happened to you?” she asked reaching for his arm. 

He looked down on it and waved his hand. “Training accident. Alfred stitched me up in no time.” 

He’d kept his Batman secret from her by saying he was training to do extreme hiking and athletics for when he traveled to different countries. She bought it, thankfully, and her lack of interest in major athletics made it easy for her not to ask to tag along with him. 

“I’m fine,” he reassured, kissing her hand.

“Please be careful next time. If not for you, but for me?”

Bruce smiled. “For you, anything.”

_____________________________________________________________

She and Bruce entered the kitchen as Alfred read the paper on the kitchen island. 

“Master Wayne, Miss Gallagher,” Alfred greeted, giving them a nod. 

“Well I’m headed off to a meeting, but I’ll see you two later,” Bruce sighed. He gave Demetria a quick kiss goodbye before he walked out of the room.

Demetria smiled at Alfred, taking a seat beside him. “Have time for a break?” 

Alfred slid over an empty mug he had beside his own mug. “I was hoping you’d ask.”

Alfred and Demetria had become good friends. The old man had taken a liking to her, often times bonding with her over crossword puzzles and talking about old movies they both liked. Whenever she’d stay the night, which later into hers and Bruce’s relationship became frequent, she’d spend the morning bonding with the old man over a cup of coffee. 

He grabbed the pot and poured some coffee into her cup. “So I take it you’re going back to the apartment to finish the packing?” 

“Yep!” she exclaimed, popping the “p”. “Thankfully I only have one more day left of it and then some of my stuff goes here while the rest of it goes into storage at Wayne Manor.”

Alfred chuckled. “Have you hired helpers for that process?” 

She took a sip of coffee. “Some old college friends of Harvey and mine run a moving company in the city so they’re going to help me drop some of the stuff in the storage area. Initially, he told me I could move into the mansion but it’s just so far away .” She stopped and chuckled. “Mansion. Jesus Christ, who’ve I become?” 

“You’ll get used to it,” he laughed. 

“I don’t think I will, Alfred.” 

Alfred tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean by that?” 

Demetria pulled her lips back. “I’ve seen first-hand how the media treats people like Bruce. Everywhere he goes, there’s someone with a camera just waiting to capture something they can create a story out of. Soon, I won’t be able to go out for a walk, run errands, go out with friends, or do anything without a camera following me closely, watching my every move. Even if I can’t see it, I’ll know it’s there.” 

She paused and leaned forward. “Don’t tell Bruce this, but...the day I was fired from GCN, one of the reporters saw a photographer they knew who worked at the Gotham Times waiting out the door, waiting for me. Our boss had tipped off to their boss I was getting fired and they could catch me walking out with a box of my stuff in my hands in exchange for information for another story. The reporter told me about it and had gotten me out through the back door. She and the photographer snuck me into the news car and dropped me off at my apartment and I spent the next hour trying to ease myself off a panic attack.”

She swallowed hard. “Bruce grew up like this. He knows how to handle it. I don’t and I’m scared that one false move and I...I could embarrass him or the image of the Wayne family and become some kind of joke.” 

Alfred’s heart sank for the poor girl. Most of the women Bruce had been out with in the past reveled in having their picture taken with him, smiling at the flashing cameras. He knew Bruce knew and, quite frankly, didn’t care. But when it came to Demetria, Bruce went the extra mile to ensure total privacy was given to him and Demetria, even going as far as paying the restaurant manager extra and waiter for their discretion and for the private dining room. Alfred initially thought it was ridiculous until Bruce gave him an explanation. 

Demetria eyed Alfred, an embarrassed smile on her lips. “I guess it’s not like I don’t come with my own baggage though. I mean, no one said dating someone with severe anxiety and panic attacks was a breeze.” 

Alfred set down his cup. “When Master Wayne was a child, he would get nervous around photographers so Martha told him that as long as she held his hand, he had nothing to be afraid of. So whenever they went out, he would reach for her hand and she would take it and he wouldn’t feel so scared. When she died, he learned to manage on his own, but he never held another woman’s hand until you came along. You are the only other woman whose hand he’s held.” 

Demetria could feel her cheeks warm up. Whenever they were out or he noticed  her anxiety kicking in, he’d take her hand. His hand became her security blanket, her lifejacket to save her drowning. What seemed like a natural thing for a boyfriend to do, had completely different meaning for both her and him.  

“Do you think Martha would’ve liked me?” Demetria asked. 

A small smile crept on the old man’s smile. “Without a doubt.”

__________________________________________________________________

It was around 1:30 p.m. when she heard a knock on the door at her apartment. 

“Who is it?” she called out from across the room. 

“Your favorite lunch date is here.”

Her lips curved into a huge, childish smile. “What’s the password?”

“Demetria...”

“Can’t you let you in without it.”

“I have hot food.”

“You know the rules.”

A heavy sigh was heard from the other side of the door. “Demetria rules, Harvey drools.”

She opened the door. Harvey stood there, a brown bag in each hand. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” she said, taking the bags from him. 

“Interesting. I get a gun pulled on me during trial and put the guy in prison, yet I bring you Chinese food and then I’m called a ‘hero’.” 

She set the bags on the table, her eyes not leaving Harvey. “Someone pulled a gun on you?” 

He shrugged. “One of Maroni’s guys. It was cheap and wouldn’t even go off.” 

“Well, I almost pulled my back from lifting one of the boxes so it looks like we’re both having quite the day.” 

Harvey chuckled. “Always keeping me humble, Dem.” 

She pat his shoulder. “Someone’s got to.” 

They sat at her little table. Harvey reached into his briefcase and pulled out a section of the newspaper with the headline “10 Things to Know About Future Mrs. Wayne Demetria Gallagher”. 

Demetria rolled her eyes. “Jesus Christ, Harvey. Why’d you bring that bullshit into my apartment?” 

Harvey grabbed the paper and began reading. Demetria groaned. “Oh god, I’m gonna be sick.” 

“Number one, Demetria is from Pennsylvania.” 

“Because that’s an absolute must know.” 

“Number two, she attended Gotham University.” 

She scoffed. “I’ll be impressed if they know what my GPA was.” 

“Number three, she was a junior talent booker for GCN.” 

“Guarantee you they reached out to James for confirmation and he made sure they wrote ‘junior’.” 

“Number four, she’s reportedly close friends with District Attorney Harvey Dent.” 

“Close is a strong word.”

“Number five, she was-.”

She grabbed the paper from his hands, crumbled it into a ball, and tossed it across the room.

Harvey started at her, dumbfounded. “The crossword was in there.”

“Oh please, you probably finished it.”

“Almost finished it.”

She pointed her chopsticks at him. “Eat your lo mein, Dent.”

“So I saw GCN’s statement about you,” Harvey continued. “First of all, it’s all cliché bullshit and you should release a statement back, especially after they tried to sell you out for a story afterward.” 

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not worth it, Harvey. Look, I get where they’re coming from. It’s dangerous for a network employee to be seen hanging out with a public figure because it could promote bias and the network could lose credibility. Remember how I almost lost my job because you sent me flowers on my first day?”

“And then I had an hour long phone call with your news director...” He sighed heavily at the memory. He shook his head. “I still think you should take action for them selling you out to the Gotham Times after firing you.” 

“Harvey-.” 

He leaned over the table. “I know a great lawyer who could-.” 

“Harvey.” Her voice was sharp. “I told you, I’m not doing it.” 

She dipped the piece of steamed dumpling into the soy sauce. “What does piss me off is their little ‘she’ll be missed’ bullshit. Half the people there didn’t like me and the other half barely knew I existed.” 

“I’m sure that’s not true. You had friends.” 

“I had two friends.” 

“Better than nothing.” 

She rolled her eyes. “You get my point. Anyway, it’s over. It’s done with.” 

Harvey smiled as his eyes fell to her engagement ring. “Wayne really went all out on the ring.” 

Demetria looked down at it, grinning. “Hm, he did. I don’t mind it though. It’s like having a little piece of him everywhere I go.” She then sighed and sunk back into her chair. “What am I gonna do, Harvey?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Honestly, I have no single fucking clue what I’m gonna do and it scares me.”

“Do about what?” 

She leaned forward. “People are going to be expect to do what any rich wife does. You know, spend my life living going to galas or attending luncheons for charities none of the women give a single shit about. That’s not me, but it’s also not me to just be a housewife who sits at home doing nothing all day.”

“It doesn’t have to be like that.” He set down his food. “Look, Dem, you’re overthinking all of this. You can still work. I mean, doesn’t Wayne fund a bunch of charities?” 

“I was thinking about doing work for the orphanage,” Demetria said. “From what I’ve seen every time GCN has covered something there, the inside could use a massive makeover. I was thinking of re-doing it, maybe get my mom do the interior work.” 

“She would love that,” he agreed as he bit into his fried rice. 

“But I also want to help the kids,” she went on. “I just...I don’t know how yet.” 

“You’ll figure out.” 

She sighed. “What if the kids hate me?” 

He chuckled. “Then I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

“Now I see why that guy pulled a gun on you today.” 

He shook his head as he tossed a fortune cookie at her as she laughed. 

Just then, she heard her Blackberry ring. She smiled as she saw Bruce’s name come up on the caller ID. 

“Hey you,” she greeted, putting her phone to her ear. 

“Hey. Everything going ok with moving?” 

“Yep. Just taking break and having lunch with Harvey. How’s your day going?” 

“It will be even better if you let me take you out to a nice dinner tonight.” 

“Ooh, where?” 

“It’s a surprise.” 

“Hmm...well you’re lucky I haven’t packed my nice dresses yet.” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“It is.” 

“Then I’ll pick you up at 7 PM.” 

“You know where to find me.”

“I do. I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

She hung up and put her phone on the table. She noticed Harvey smirking at her. “What?” 

“ ‘Hmmm, I love you,’” he repeated in a high pitched voice. “ ‘I love you, Bruce.’” 

“Keep it up and I’ll tell Rachel the secret to your coin trick,” Demetria challenged. 

Harvey made a face. “Threatening the DA, not a good look, Mrs. Wayne.” 

Demetria rolled her eyes and tossed a crumbled up napkin at him. “Eat your food, dipshit.” 

“District Attorney.” 

“Ok, District Attorney Dipshit.” 

 _____________________________________________________________________

As the sun set and the night sky rolled in, Demetria finished the final touches of her makeup when she heard a knock at the door. 

She quickly glanced at herself in the mirror, smoothing out the bottom half of her form-fitting black cocktail dress. She adjusted the shoulder straps and the sweetheart neckline that gave her boobs a nice, but not overly obvious lift. 

She opened the door and was greeted by Bruce leaning on the door frame. 

“Well hello there,” he greeted, his eyes fixated on her. 

“Hello,” she said, pursing back her lips. 

She had those first date butterflies her stomach every time he looked at her. It was a miracle she’d gone this long without melting. She held out her arms. “Is this ok or...?”

He stepped closer to her and cupped her face gently as he pulled her in for a kiss. Her hands wrapped around his neck as he moved them into her apartment. 

She pulled back, her lips close to him. “As much as I want to continue this, I am really starving.” 

He chuckled as he moved his hands down to her waist. He rest his forehead on hers. “You kill me, Gallagher.” 

“My sincerest apologies.” 

He moved his head up, eying the one bedroom apartment. “I’m sorry I only spent one night here.”

“Are you though?” she asked, cocking her head back.

He motioned to the bed. “I remember that being very comfortable.”

“Not that comfortable considering you never spent another night here.”

“Because you said you loved my bed.”

“I’ll give you that.” She pat his chest. “Let’s get going.” 

She threw on her cream colored trench coat and grabbed her clutch as the two.

Bruce opened the passenger door of his Lamborghini Murciélago LP 640 and closed it as she settled in the passenger seat. He climbed into driver’s seat and sped off. 

Throughout the drive, he kept one hand on the wheel, the other on her leg. 

“So are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” she asked. 

He turned to her. “And ruin the surprise?” 

“Can I at least get a hint?” 

“You’ll like it.” 

“That’s not a hint.” 

“Ok, it’s new.” 

She shook her head. “Is this how it’s always going to be?” 

He smirked at her. “I’ve gotta keep things interesting, don’t I?” 

As they were pulling up to the valet area, Demetria and Bruce couldn’t help but notice the flock of photographers outside, flashing the cameras at the car. 

“Fuck,” she mumbled under her breath. She could feel her chest tighten and stomach drop. 

Bruce turned her head to her. “It’s going to be ok.” He grabbed a hold of her hand. “I’ve got you.” 

She nodded her head. Bruce opened the car door quickly, handing the keys to the valet attendant before rushing over to Demetria’s side. He opened the door, the screams of the paparazzi causing Demetria to jump. She took Bruce’s hand and kept her eyes in the street ahead, avoiding the flashing lights. 

She tried to ignore the voices that were screaming around her.

“Bruce, Demetria, look over here!”

“Demetria, how does it feel to be engaged to Bruce?!” 

“Demetria, Demetria, look up here!” 

“Give us a smile, Demetria!

 Bruce looked at her and tightened his grip, his thumb stroking his hand. Demetria looked up at him and gave him a small smile, mouthing “thank you”. 

As long as he held her hand, she’d be ok. 

[cinema-tv-etc]

‘Bridgerton’ Isn’t Bad Austen — It’s An Entirely Different Genre

Critics and viewers have dinged the show for being a cliché-ridden period piece or a sloppy historical drama. But it’s neither: It’s Regency romance, and it’s spectacular.

By Claire Fallon

I was deep in a Regency romance binge a few years ago when I pitched a highly self-interested piece to my editor: an investigation into why this didn’t exist onscreen.

This was a creature apart from the Jane Austen adaptations and sedate period pieces I already enjoyed, or sexy but bloody cable costume dramas. A Regency romance is set in a fantasy version of British high society in the early 19th century, and the central action revolves around the courtship between a woman (often a well-bred beauty) and a man (often a rakish peer). They consummate their attraction in improbably acrobatic sexual encounters, and then they live happily ever after.

In the post-2016 election malaise, these novels became my anxiety palliative of choice. They piled up next to my bed and in my e-reader. But sometimes I wanted more, wanted to see the gossamer petticoats and lingering glances and gently unfastened bodices. The piece I pitched never materialized, but the object of my longing did. On Christmas Day 2020, Shondaland’s “Bridgerton” arrived on Netflix.

What ensued was both somewhat exhilarating — getting to see my Regency escapism come to life — and unnerving. My private indulgence, one generally viewed with dismissiveness if not contempt by non-romance readers, had become the target of a full-blown cultural discourse. “Bridgerton” was met with valid and vital critiques, especially over its treatment of consent, but also ones that made me wince: that it was formulaic, predictable, vapid, historically inaccurate, best suited for teens.

Many of the critiques, understandably, seemed rooted in unfamiliarity with the genre’s conventions, or in the expectation that “Bridgerton,” which is based on a series of books by Julia Quinn, would resemble a “Pride and Prejudice” remake. “You don’t get it!” I wanted to shout. “That’s not what this is!” The historical romance has finally gone mainstream — and that means a whole new audience is learning how to read a genre so long relegated to the margins. Sometimes that can be a bumpy ride.

With its bounty of sherbet-hued satin gowns, scandal rags full of malicious gossip, unblinkingly earnest romance, and on-screen lovemaking, “Bridgerton” seems to defy easy categorization for many critics, journalists and viewers — and even Regé-Jean Page, who stars as the smoldering Duke of Hastings.

“It’s a little bit of Jane Austen meets ‘Gossip Girl’ with maybe ‘49 Shades [of Grey’],” he told The Wrap in a December interview. Critics and viewers, at their wits’ ends trying to make sense of this sexy, gossipy, frothy Regency costume drama, also tried to characterize it in terms of beloved on-screen classics: “Pride and Prejudice,” “Downton Abbey,” and, yes, “Gossip Girl.” These comparisons convey some bafflement, an uncertainty about how to categorize a show that isn’t really a realist historical drama, nor an edgy satire, nor a campy soap.

Though it’s true that Austen was the inspiration behind the whole subgenre — the first Regency romance novelist, Georgette Heyer, was emulating Austen’s work — it has evolved into a well-established genre with its own tropes, conventions and standards.

“There’s a way that those kinds of incredibly popular adaptations of Austen will make you, I think, expect that you’re watching a certain kind of thing, and romance novels are not trying to do the same thing at all,” critic Aaron Bady said in a phone conversation. “If you go in watching ‘Bridgerton’ and say, ‘I think I’m watching Jane Austen,’ you’re going to be disappointed. It feels a little Jane Austen-y, but it doesn’t work like a Jane Austen novel.”

Nor is period romance merely a form of realist period fiction. In her review of the show, Patricia Matthew, an associate professor of English at Montclair State University, placed it in a long artistic tradition of Black women depicted in Regency settings. But ultimately, she said in a phone interview, “Nobody’s reading Julia Quinn because they’re looking for disquisitions on historical precedent.”

Bursting though a romance novel may be with carefully researched, period-accurate details about Vauxhall entertainments, Almack’s vouchers or ribboned chemises, these novels really aren’t about the Regency era, or at least not primarily.

“Historical romance does a different kind of work than historical fiction,” Sarah MacLean, a popular historical romance author, told me during a phone call. “The work of the romance novel is not to tell the story of the past. It is to hold a mirror to the present.”

By building a love story between the primary couple, one that is guaranteed to end “happily ever after” or “happy for now,” a romance novel not only provides escapism and the heart-pounding rush of vicarious passion, but a space in which to explore how romantic relationships can and should be, and how women can find fulfillment and happiness. And that means these stories have little to do with how the marriage market of Regency high society actually functioned; they’re about what readers — predominantly women — want to see in their lives today.

“The appeal of the time period for readers is very much about being able to distance readers from certain kinds of social issues and then reframe them as a reflection of society now,” MacLean explained. In the 1970s, novels typically featured brooding alpha males who took what they wanted sexually ― a narrative device, MacLean argued, for the fictional heroines of the time to have plenty of sex without being seen as loose and deserving of punishment. Historical romance novels today often feature heroes and heroines having what seem like rather anachronistically tender exchanges about consent.

Ella Dawson, a sex and culture critic, sees period romance as a way to provide a balm — an experience in which violence and trauma are, if not absent, superseded by a reassurance of ultimate well-being — while also walking readers through more thorny questions.

“Romance as a genre is really interested in consent, in diversity representation, in political issues,” she said. “Romances are so infused with these issues that I [am] really passionate about, and they explore it through this really fun, romantic, swoony, but still very intellectual, thoughtful, accessible lens.”

As odd as it felt to see a straightforward romance adaptation dissected as if it were a failed attempt at matching Jane Austen, it makes sense. Because the genre is generally regarded with such disdain in mainstream culture, it occupies a rather marginalized niche. A non-romance reader is unlikely to have a firm grasp of many things about the genre, outside of well-worn jokes about throbbing members and Fabio’s flowing hair, and though romance is among the bestselling genres in the book industry, it’s rarely adapted for TV or film.

Why has this omission persisted for so long? “I can’t imagine that it isn’t a huge amount [due to] patriarchy, in the sense that for the same reason it gets disdained on the page, it gets disdained on the screen,” said MacLean. To this day, the people deciding which films and shows to finance are almost entirely men. Shonda Rhimes is that rare exception — a woman with creative control over a TV empire, and a fan of the Quinn series.

Practical obstacles to adapting romance also pop up. A novel stuffed with sex scenes and building toward a tidy happy ending may be tricky to adapt for network TV, which needs to keep things a bit cleaner — and keep the narrative drama going indefinitely.

And it’s not just the network TV standards and the tidy endings. The heightened reality and bodice-unclasping of the genre, Matthew said, rely on an intimacy between the reader and the page that’s difficult to translate to the screen.

“I think the plot lines are bananas. I think they’re so extreme that they strain credulity,” she said, laughing. “You have to believe that a sane man, an adult, would say, ‘Oh, I’m just not going to have children so I can spite my father.’ It only works if it’s you with a glass of wine, kind of throwing yourself over to the world of romance.” It’s awkward to sit with someone else, knowing they’re watching the same melodramatic story unfold, partaking in a pleasure that feels somewhat private, if not embarrassing. “We all have these fan worlds that when they’re exposed to other people that aren’t a part of that world we might feel protective of, or feel bashful,” she said.

https://www.huffpost.com/entry/bridgerton-netflix-romance-genre_n_60086fd5c5b6ffcab969dafa?utm_source=pocket-newtab

[theroyalmile]

No Returns, No Exchanges

Disclaimer: I have debated for quite a while whether or not I should post this blog.  Social media is such a curated space for joy and happiness, it can feel oppressive at times.  There is so much life-changing positivity, from engagements to new jobs; and don’t get me wrong, that happiness is great to see.  But on the other hand, all of that positivity makes me feel like sharing any kind of negative information is attention-seeking and an immense overshare.  So let’s ask ourselves why I feel that way.  Why is happiness celebrated while the sad, sometimes harsh realities of life are thought to be oversharing?  More specifically, why do we feel like life-changing news can only be shared when it doesn’t make other people uncomfortable?  Our expressions of pain should not be regulated by the comfort levels of the people who surround us.  There comes a time when not sharing something begins to feel like hiding something, and hiding something turns to shame.  That is a feeling that I refuse to welcome into my life right now.  So here we go. 

It has been a while since I posted anything… a really long while.  It has been rare, these past few years, that I have even felt I had anything much to say let alone write anything, mostly because my life has been fairly normal, fairly unextraordinary, and I am rather blessed to be saying that during such a difficult time for so many. The few moments where I have felt like I had something to say have been fleeting, and after a good 2am word vomit on paper, I have filed these musings under “not to be seen by the light of day” which is probably for the best.

 Sometimes in the past I would find myself wishing I had something interesting going on in my life, something worthy of commentary… I don’t know, I was thinking like a cool hobby, an interesting skill, a kick-ass career, or a run in with Tom Hardy like I’d always dreamed of… something.  

 Well, to whoever is in charge, this is not what I meant, and I would like to request a refund. 

 Because as its final parting kick in the ass 2020 decided to gift me with breast cancer.  This isn’t a bad punch line, it’s just the truth.Let me give you a second to process that one.  I certainly needed a few.

 The thing is, a little itty bitty 3-centimeter tumor- that’s not something I can give back, as much as I might want to.  It’s not a too-large sweater you can return with a gift receipt, and it’s not a bad haircut you can complain about and get your money back (though it certainly will include one in a week or so!)

 A lot of you already know this story and frankly it’s not one I can tell with much finesse or humor, so I will keep it brief.  It was a dark and stormy 6pm when I found a lump in my breast in the shower back in November.  My initial thought was “you’re a crazy lady and a hypochondriac, let’s give it a few weeks since this is probably nothing.”   A few weeks, when my imaginary lump seemed to not actually be imaginary, I figured okay, it’s time to see my doctor, it’s probably nothing but we need to make sure.  I was in fact so unconcerned about it that I didn’t even see my regular doctor. I figured I just needed a medical professional to feel me up and let me know what to do next.  I didn’t even bother mentioning it to my parents. (For context of my laissez-faire, when I was 14 I found a lump in my breast that turned out, after little fanfare, to be a cyst which was unceremoniously drained on a cold metal table by a male doctor in a somewhat traumatizing but ultimately benign event.  That’s a longer story for later). 

 Cue a physical exam, confirming I was not crazy and there was a lump, but it was probably nothing; an utltrasound, confirming the lump was a shape that they did not like, but it was probably nothing; and an ultrasound guided biopsy, in which the probably nothing was sampled.  The week between Christmas and New Year’s was spent impatiently waiting for the news, increasingly feeling that my probably nothing was maybe, actually something.

 On December 28 around lunch time I received a phone call in the middle of the work day from the radiologist, who while very nice, was someone I had only met once while she shot a needle in and out of my boob.  She asked me how I was doing and then told me my test results were in.  “I’m sorry to say it’s not good news,” she said.

 And believe it or fucking not my immediate thought was “It’s not good news… it’s great news!” My brain supplied this as if on autopilot like some kind of 90s game show host, knowing fully well that I would not be so lucky because we are not living in a Brooklyn 99 episode.  It’s weird where your brain goes under duress.

 It was one of the most uncomfortable phone calls I have ever had, wherein I found myself trying to reassure a complete stranger that I was okay and I’m pretty sure I even said, “it is what it is.”  I was told a breast surgeon and oncologist from my provider network would be in contact and the call ended. Ultimately, I was diagnosed with Stage 1B Triple Negative Invasive Ductal and Lobular Carcinoma.  No returns, no exchanges.

 I am two months into my diagnosis, and 1/8 of my way through chemotherapy, the first part of a three series treatment (to be followed by surgery and then likely radiation.)  This Friday, after my second chemotherapy treatment, I will begin to lose my hair.  Anyone who knows me at all knows that the hair loss will be a pill likely far harder for me to swallow than the chemo itself.  And while the look may have worked for Demi Moore in GI Jane, I do not have her bone structure, nor her body.  I anticipate I will look more like the yellow peanut M&M, which while obviously the best M&M of the bunch, I think we can all agree is not a cute look for me.

 I do not say this to be melodramatic, I just say this because I am cynical and pragmatic by nature: I am not particularly surprised that I have cancer.  And this is for several reasons, some of which probably deserve a longer blog later.  To put it simply, I have been surrounded by cancer, both by choice and by cruel fate and happenstance, my entire life. 

 Cruel Fate and Happenstance: Having several relatives who have gone through cancer, and a mother with a BRCA 1 genetic mutation (which I had a 50% chance of inheriting, and in fact did) I always figured it would eventually happen to me.  The odds this condition dealt me? “About 13% of women in the general population will develop breast cancer sometime during their lives. By contrast, 55%–72% of women who inherit a harmful BRCA1 variant… will develop breast cancer by 70–80 years of age.”  That 55-72% is the kind of percentage you want winning the lottery, but the lottery this most certainly is not, and that much I understood. So, I always figured something like this would probably happen.  Did I think I would be 28? No. But I figure that just makes me an overachiever. 

 Choice: I volunteered at a cancer support non-profit from the time I was 12 to the time I was 22, and I wrote my college senior thesis in anthropology on women with ovarian cancer, the cancer that killed my aunt Lizzy when I was 4 years old.  I have likely read more books on cancer than your average newly diagnosed person, which I find to be both a blessing and a curse.  On one hand, I know some of what’s coming.  On the other hand, I know some of what’s coming.  Of course I don’t think any of these things gave me cancer but you might say I have been training for this my whole life.  I think this joke is far funnier than pretty much everyone I say it to except my immediate family, because the Tenney/Koss folk are very big on gallows humor, in which case this is hilarious.  Comedy is our family coping mechanism, and I am guilty of occasionally forgetting not everyone is wired like that.   

 So where are we right now? Taking it day by day.  Do I frequently find myself wallowing in self-pity these days? Sure.  But all the same I feel truly lucky.  This is a feeling I am trying to hold on to, because I think the other options might be truly unbearable.  Why? Well, I found this tumor.  I’m 28-years-old, which means I am hardly old enough for a regular mammogram and MRI.  My last yearly physical was a TeleHealth appointment (hence no actual physical) and I will be honest, I never made a habit of regularly checking myself like I should have.  But this tumor just presented itself casually during a shower.  Breast cancer, when caught early, is highly treatable and curable, and I am fairly confident, knock on wood, that is where this particular nightmare is headed.  The fact that it was caught early: pure luck. 

Another reason I feel lucky is for the most part, I feel like I actually have the stability to handle the oncoming struggle.  I have a large and wonderful support system, an incredible and supportive partner, a savings account with actual savings in it, and a job where I am cared about as a human.  If this had happened to me three years ago, almost none of these things would be true.  There will never be a good time to have cancer, but some times are apparently better than others.  Of course, the ongoing pandemic means I can’t have people go with me to chemo, or my wig fitting, or my surgery consultations, and alone a lot of this seems much more daunting and difficult than it might otherwise have been, but I am trying to make a habit of counting my blessings, and despite this terrible thing I’ve been given, my blessings are many.

 There isn’t a “right way” to have cancer, but I think there might be a “right way” for me.  I am a private person and I find sharing some of these details difficult and more than a little uncomfortable, but I am also intimately familiar with the healing nature of writing and comedy, so I am going to give it a shot.  

 And now that I think of it… the peanut M&M is going to make a really great Halloween costume. 

[thisbluespirit]

James Maxwell TV/Film List

More of a guide than a recs list, because old tv/film depends so much on availability.  It’s also hard as there’s nothing surviving that’s really like SotT for him (his voice is always slightly different, too & rarely the grand one from SotT) - I found it hard to find where to start back in the day, so I hope this makes it easier.  However, I have starred my favourites (rated for JM content only). 

I’ve divided things into categories and @jurijurijurious​ (or anyone) can make up their own mind as to what to go for.  (Also @jurijurijurious I have NO idea what old telly you’ve already seen, so forgive me if I’m telling you things you already know.)

Where to find it:  Luckily in the UK, it’s not too bad!  Network Distributing are the DVD supplier to keep an eye on (they do great online sales), you can find secondhand things cheap on Amazon Marketplace & eBay, and several Freeview channels show old TV & film, especially Talking Pictures.  I’ll note if things are on YT or Daily Motion, but they come and go all the time, so it’s always worth searching.

***

Film serials (ITC mainly)

British TV made on film in the US mode with transatlantic cash, so generally pretty light,  episodic (continuity is almost unheard of) etc.  Some turn up on ITV3 & 4 on a regular basis (colour eps). 

*** Dangerman “A Date With Doris” (ITC 1964)  James Maxwell is a British spy friend of Drake’s (Patrick MacGoohan) called Peter who gets framed for murder.  Drake goes to Fake Cuba to rescue him by which time JM is dying from an infected wound and faints off every available surface, including the roof.  It’s great.  On YT.  (The boxset is v pricey if you just want 2 eps.)

“Fair Exchange” (ITC 1964) JM is a German spy friend of Drake’s called Pieter who helps him out on a case.  Not as gloriously hurt/comfort-y as the other, but it does have some excellent undercover dusting. (Why  Patrick MacGoohan has JM clones all called variations on Peter dotted around the globeis a mystery.)  On YT.

The Saint “The Inescapable Word” (ITC 1965) This is pretty terrible, but  entertaining and James Maxwell plays the world’s most hopeless former-cop-turned-security guard. With bonus collapsing.  On YT.

“The Art Collectors” (1967).  JM is the villain of the week.  It does include a v funny bit, though, where the Saint (Roger Moore) goes for JM’s fake hair (and who can blame him?  How often I have felt the same!)  This one’s in colour so should pop up on ITV3 or 4. 

The Champions “The Silent Enemy” (ITC 1968).  Surprisingly good JM content as the villain of the week who drugs sailors and steals their clothes before realising that maybe he should have worked out if he could operate a sub before he stole it.

The Protectors “The Bridge” (ITC 1974, 30 mins.)  Not worth seeking out on its own, but ITV4 seems fond of it and James Maxwell gets to do some angsting and wears purple, so it’s worth snagging if you can, but too slight otherwise.

*** Thriller “Good Salary, Prospects, Free Coffin” (ITC 1975; 1hr 10mins, I think).  James Maxwell moves in with Julian Glover and runs an overcomplicated murdery spy ring where they bicker a lot in between killing girls by advertisement and burying them in the back garden.  What could possibly go wrong??  Anyway, it’s solid gold cheese, has bonus Julian Glover and a lot of natty knitwear.  What more does an old telly fan want?  (tw: Keith Barron being inexplicably the very meanest Thriller boyfriend.)  On YT but tends to get taken down fast.

***

Films

Design for Loving (1962; comedy).  Can be rented from the BFI online for £3.50.  Isn’t that great or that bad (or that funny either), but does have JM as a dim layabout beatnik, which is atypical.

***The Traitors (1962).  This is a low-key little 1hr long spy B-movie, but it’s also thoughtful and ambiguous with a nice 60s soundtrack and location work (it’s a bit New Wave-ish) and the central duo of JM and Patrick Allen are sweet and it all winds up with James Maxwell going in the swimming pool. One of the things where JM is actually American. (Talking Pictures show this occasionally & it is out on DVD as an extra on The Wind of Change.)  The quality of the surviving film is not great, though.

***Girl on Approval (1962).  A Rachel Roberts kitchen sink drama about a couple fostering a difficult teenager.  It’s dated, but it’s also really interesting for a 1950s/60s slice of life (and very female-centric) & probably the only time on this list JM played an ordinary person.

***Otley (1969).  Comedy that’s generally dated surprisingly well & is good fun, starring Tom Courtenay +cameos from what seems like the whole of British TV.  JM is an incompetent red herring & there are more cardies and glasses as well as a random barometer. 

Old Vic/Royal Exchange group productions

(Surviving works made by the group that JM was involved in from drama school to his death, made by Michael Elliott or Casper Wrede.  I like them a lot mostly, but they are all slow and weird and earnest & not everybody’s cup of tea.)

Brand (BBC 1959).  The BBC recording of the 59 Company’s (the name they were then using) landmark production, starring Patrick MacGoohan.  This was a big deal in British theatre & launched the careers of everybody involved.  It’s very relentless and weird but interesting & I’m glad they decided it was important enough to save.  First fake beard alert of this post.  It won’t be the last.  On YT & there is a DVD, which is sometimes affordable and sometimes £500, depending on the time of day.

***Private Potter (1962).  The original TV play is lost and this film has an extraneous storyline, but otherwise has most of the TV cast & gives a pretty good idea of why as a claustrophobic talky TV piece it made such an impact.  Tom Courtenay is Private Potter, a soldier who claims to have had a vision of God during a mission & James Maxwell his CO who needs to decide what to do about this strange excuse for disobeying orders.  Tw: fake eyebrows (!) and moustaches.  Only available on YT.

[???]One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovitch (1970).  Again, no DVD release (no idea why), but it is on YT.  I haven’t seen this yet, but it’s another Casper Wrede effort starring Tom Courtenay and apparently JM is especially good in it.  (I’m just not good at watching long things on YT and keep hoping for a DVD or TV showing.)

Ransom (1974).  A more commercial effort starring Sean Connery & Ian McShane; it gets slated as not being a good action movie, but is clearly meant to be more thinky and political with the edge of a thriller. JM’s part isn’t large but Casper Wrede shoots his friend beautifully, & it’s a pretty decent film with nice cinematography, shot in Norway, as was One Day.  I liked it.

[I think this post might be the longest in the world, whoops.  Sorry!]

Cardboard TV (the best bit, obv)

One-off plays etc./mini-series

Out of the Unknown “The Dead Planet” Adaptation of an Asimov short story; this is very good for JM, but hard to get hold of unless you want the boxset.  I think someone has some of the eps on Daily Motion.  (His other OotU ep is sadly burninated.)

The Portrait of a Lady (BBC 1968).  Adaptation of the novel; JM is Gilbert Osmond, so it is great for JM in quantity and his performance, but depends how you feel about him being skeevy in truly appalling facial hair.  Do the bow ties and hand-holding make up for it?  but he’s in 5 whole episodes, and Suzanne Neve, faced with Richard Chamberlain, Edward Fox, and Ed Bishop as suitors, chooses instead to marry the worst possible James Maxwell.  Relatable. XD

***Dracula (ITV 1968, part of Mystery & Imagination).  JM is Dr Seward, fainty snowflake of vampire hunters, who falls over, sobs and can’t cope for most of the 1 hr 20 mins.  More facial hair, but not as offensive as last time.  Suzanne Neve is back again, although now JM is nice, she’s married Corin Redgrave, who’s more into Denholm Elliott. Anyway, I love this so much because it turned out that I love Dracula as well as shaky old TV with people I like in getting to fight vampires and all be shippy.  Good news - TP keep showing M&I, the DVD is out, and there are two versions of it up on YT.

The Prison (Armchair Cinema 1974).  This is the one with Lincoln in it, but it’s not that great & JM isn’t in it that much, so depends how curious you are for the modern AU!  (But my Euston films allergy is worse than my ITC allergy, and I watched this when very unwell, so I may have been unfair.)

Crown Court “Fitton vs. Pusey” (1973) - part of the Crown Court series, set in a town full of clones who all keep returning to court.  JM is on trial for his behaviour in (the Korean war?  I forget?) although he ought to be on trial for his terrible moustache.  It’s not that great, but it is nice JM content.  He probably did it, but for reasons, and he wibbles & panics whenever his wife leaves the courtroom.  Also on YT.

*** Raffles “The Amateur Cracksman” (ITV 1975) - He is Inspector Mckenzie in the Raffles pilot & is a lot of fun.  At one point when there was a Raffles fandom someone in it claimed he was too gay for Raffles, which I’m still laughing about, because Raffles.  Anyway, watch out if you try to get the DVD because it is NOT included in S1, whatever lies Amazon tells. It is up somewhere online, though, I think.

Bognor “Unbecoming Habits” (1981).  Some down marks for possibly the worst 80s theme & incidiental music ever, but fun & has been shown on Talking Pictures lately.  JM is an Abbot running a honey-making friary that is actually a hotbed of spies, murder, gay sex and squash playing.  This is the point at which he chooses to strip off on screen for the first time, because strong squash-playing abbots do that kind of thing apparently.

Guest of the week in ongoing series/serials

Since even series with a lot of continuity tended to write episodes as self-contained plays (like SotT), these are usually accessible on their own.

Manhunt “Death Wish” (1970).  This is one of the most serialised shows here, but this episode is still fairly contained.  WWII drama about three Resistance agents on the run across France.  JM is... a Nazi agent & former academic trying to break an old friend (one of the series’ three leads, Peter Barkworth) with kindness, possibly??  (Manhunt is very angry and psychological & dark and obv. comes with major WWII warnings (& more if you want to try the whole thing), but it’s also v good.)  Up on YT, I think.

Doomwatch “The Iron Doctor” (BBC S2 1971).  “Doomwatch” is the nickname of a gov’t dept led by Dr Spencer Quist that investigates new scientific projects for abuse/corruption/things that might cause fish to make men infertile etc. etc.  JM is a surgeon who comes to their attention because he’s a bit too in love with his computer for the comfort of one of his more junior colleagues.  (I think it’s perfectly comprehensible & a nice guest turn, but it is hard to get hold of outside of the series DVD.  Which, being a cult TV person, I loved a lot anyway, but YMMV!)

***Hadleigh “The Caper” (S3 1973).  Hadleigh is a very middle of the road show, but watchable enough (lead is Gerald Harper, who’s always entertaining) and this is pretty self-contained as it centres around an old con-man friend (JM) of Hadleigh’s manservant causing trouble by pretending to be Gerald Harper, for reasons.  JM seems to be having a ball.

Justice 2 episodes, S3 1974.  He guests twice as an opposing barrister & gets to be part of some nice showdown court scenes.  Again, a middle of the road drama, but stars Margaret Lockwood, who was still just as awesome in the 1970s as she was in the 1930s & 40s.  On YT.

Father Brown “The Curse of the Golden Cross” (1974).  JM is an American archaeologist getting death threats; stars Kenneth More as Father Brown.  Just a note, though, that 1970s TV adaptations tended to be really really faithful and this is one of the stories where Chesterton comes out with an anti-semitic moment...  (JM was unconscious for that bit and, frankly, I envied him.)  But otherwise lots of angsting in yet another fake moustache about someone trying to kill him.

The Hanged Man “The Bridge Maker” (1975).  Confession time, I have v little idea what this one was about apart from Ray Smith being an unlikely Eastern European dictator, as this whole series went over my head and was not really my thing.  (Ask @mariocki they’re cleverer than me and liked it & can probably explain the plot!)  I don’t know if it’s available anywhere off the DVD but on a JM scale it was v good/different as he was a coldly villainous head of security & it wouldn’t be too bad to watch alone, but there was an overarching plot going on somewhere.

Doctor Who “Underworld” (1978).  This is famously one of the worst serials in the whole of classic Who, but largely because of behind-the-scenes circumstances, not the guest cast.  There is some nice stuff, though, esp in Ep1 (JM is a near-immortal alien who’d like to lay down and die but still the Quest is the Quest as they say... a lot) & it’s bound to pop up on YT or Daily Motion.  The DVD has extras that include v v brief bits of JM speaking in his actual real accent (which he otherwise does in NONE of these) & making jokes in character.  Honestly, though, this is the only DW where the behind-the-scenes doc is genuinely the most exciting bit as they desperately invented whole new technologies & methods of working to bring us this serial, and then everybody wished they hadn’t.

*** Enemy at the Door “Treason” (LWT 1978).  This is a weird episode but I love it lots - from a (v v good) series about the occupation of the Channel Islands.  (So obv warnings for WWII & Nazis.)  JM is a visiting German Generalmajor, but he’s come for a very unusual reason - to ask for help from his brother-in-law, a blackballed British army officer (Joss Ackland).  It’s all weird and low key and JM is doomed and nevertheless probably my favourite thing of his that isn’t SotT.

* The Racing Game 2 eps (1979).  Adaptation of Dick Francis’s first Sid Halley novel Odds Against (ep1) + 5 original stories for the series.  This is an interesting one - JM plays Sid’s father-in-law & they have a lovely relationship that’s central to the book BUT Dick Francis loved this adaptation and Mike Gwilym who played Sid and was inspired to write a sequel Whip Hand, which he tied in with TV canon - and adopted at least three of the cast, including JM.  Which means that all the Sid & Charles fanfic is also JM fic by default and it’s quite impressive. (There’s not much but it’s GOOD.)  On YT.

Bergerac “Treasure Hunt” (1981).  Not a major role, but pretty nice & it’s one a Christmas ep of the detective show (also set on the Channel Islands) that involved Liza Goddard’s cat burglar, which was always the best bit of Bergerac.

His guest spots in Rumpole of the Bailey (1991) “Rumpole a la Carte” and Dr Finlay (1994) are both really just cameos, but both series come round on Freeview; the Rumpole one is funny and the Dr Finlay one his last screen appearance before his death the following year.

Not worth getting just for JM: Subway in the Sky; Bill Brand and Oppenheimer.

These films only have cameos but some quite fun ones and they come around on terrestrial TV: The Damned (1962), The Evil of Frankenstein (1964) & (more briefly) Far From the Madding Crowd (1967).  (I think his cameo in Connecting Doors must be at least recognisable as someone spotted him in it just based off my gifs, but it’s not come my way yet.)  I’ve never been able to get hold of any of his radio performances, not even the 1990s one.

ETA: I forgot The Power Game! This is the one surviving series where he occurs as a semi-regular (at least until halfway through S1 when he went off to the BBC to be in the now-burninated Hunchback of Notre Dame).  This isn’t standalone, but it’s a good series and it is on YT.  See how you go with crackly old TV before you brave it but it’s the snarkiest thing ever made about people making concrete and stabbing each other in the back.  JM is a civil servant who tries to run the National Export Board and is plagued by Patrick Wymark and Clifford Evans as warring businessmen.

***

[... Well, now I just feel scary.  0_o  In my defence, I have been stuck home bored & ill for years, and often unable to watch modern TV while trying to cheer myself up with James Maxwell, so I didn’t watch all of this at once.  It just... happened eventually after SotT. /waves hand 

But if anyone feels the need to unfriend my quietly at this point, I understand. /o\]

[evien-stark]

✧I Need You✧ Chapter 147 [End: Jessica Jones: Season 1]

“-and the damage radius from these blocks out-” “-press will get a statement tomorrow-” “-we have to be careful about this-” “-I have orders, I have to go out soon, so we have to resolve-” “-what about the guy in the hospital-” 

Various voices were droning in and out. Conversation was happening around you. It was hard to make heads or tails of it. Everyone that spoke was familiar in that warm sort of way but everything they were going over left you sort of cold. In an instinctive type of way- because you really didn’t know- 

“Honey?” Tony’s voice drew your attention forward. 

As your vision cleared you took stock of the situation you found yourself in. You were in one of the smaller Avengers conference rooms. The team was there. Natasha was at the front of the room. Tony had probably been pacing around but now had a hand on your shoulder. The sun was trying to squirm its way in through the closed blinds. 

You had no idea how you’d gotten where you were. The last thing you’d remembered was passing out in the back of the quinjet. ...hadn’t you? Yet it seemed like, from the way everyone was staring, that maybe you hadn’t done that. And instead had gone from night in the jet to day in the conference room all while seemingly being aware. But you had no record of that time. Which was more than a little alarming. 

“I’m sorry- what are- um…” Feeling a swell of nervousness tighten your chest. “Did I doze off?” Hoping maybe that was the case. That you’d been caught red handed. 

But the weird exchange of glances around the room tipped you off to the fact that you shouldn’t have asked. Tony’s worry packed the rest of you almost full to bursting, but it was Steve who was looking at you. “You’ve been staring off into the distance this whole time. Did you not hear any of this?” 

Natasha leaned in, putting her palms on the table, “I’ll summarize. You deployed three Damage Control units in less than forty-eight hours. Reports are coming back in. Multiple bodies need storage. We need to know who to put where, what statements to give to who, and you have all the missing pieces.” 

Clint stood, crossing his arms. “There’s also a dead body we scooped up. Enhanced individual with a pretty purposeful hole through his chest. And the powered lady in the casual lockup keeps saying she’s responsible.”

A mess. You’d gone into a fugue state in the middle of a mess. This was all a little too much. But you sensed Tony was about to give you some sort of excuse to get you out of all this and let everyone else run cleanup. You couldn’t let that happen. So quickly you stood, gratefully finding your feet beneath you. “Jessica Jones didn’t do that. I did. Obviously.” What was Jessica thinking? It had to have been clear what kind of wound that was. “That’s Kilgrave, which I’m sure she’s said by now. -you should have gotten his picture on the network. He’s held about a thousand people hostage over the course of two months. He definitely has more victims than that. He has a long track record. All those bodies in bags belong to him. I know the reports will show I gave a DNE order- he was dangerous. We knew this already. He also boosted his powers, right before I stopped him.” 

Natasha looked up at you. “Did you even try to bring him in?” There was a reason she was asking this, and it wasn’t because she was being critical of you.

“I put him down because I had no other choice.” 

All eyes were on you as Steve asked, “You sure about that?” 

You tried to be as firm as possible. “Yes.” 

There was only a small silence that settled. Tony interrupted it. “So, as you can see, the Avengers did their job. This is our territory. You know. Doing that thing.” Turning his wrist over. “Stopping threats the military can’t- yadda yadda yadda…” 

From his spot on the other side of the table, Bruce lifted his head, giving his shoulders a gentle nudge up. “Sounds about right to me.” 

Thor, who had assumedly been taking all this in with his arms crossed gave one of those brisk smiles of his. “By all accounts, it would seem our dear Lady has become quite the hero of the people in our absence. I for one would have liked to see this man on the battlefield. Seems like he was quite savage.” He was being painfully honest. You wondered, how that would have went. Kilgrave VS Thor. And promptly were glad you hadn’t had to witness it. “However, I am glad the matter has been put to rest.” 

You understood what they were trying to do. What they’d been trying to do. It wasn’t just clean up, it was defense. Making sure they were on the right side of the story- to do right by you. And you’d been impeding the process because it seemed like you weren’t paying attention. But, now that they had your side of the story… it seemed like everyone was easily on board. 

On board with your obvious heated murder of an enhanced individual that had not only been personally menacing you, had tortured you previously, but had hurt Tony as well. And Steve. Your family. This was obviously grounds for questioning. You were too close to have been able to do a fair job. But it was over now. There was no redoing it. No going back to do it better. ...you wouldn’t have changed anything, anyway. 

Your family was trying to protect you. No matter what percentages in this equation were right or wrong. They understood what had happened. And they’d already made peace with it. Now all they needed to do was sweep the rest of it up and call it a day. 

Which is exactly what prompted Tony to continue talking. “So. We’ll release Jones. I’ll make some statement to the press. We’ll rubber stamp A’s all over our files and turn them in. Everyone on board?” 

While there was a murmur of immediate approval, Natasha had a few more things on her docket. “We have two people in our private hospital wing. Both are ready for release- but DC’s been adamant that the right person makes that call.” A little- brief- tiny flutter of annoyance touched her before she shut it down hard. She didn’t have to say it. You understood why. 

Damage Control had refused to budge until you made another call, because you’d been the one that had been calling the shots the entire short-lived investigation. ...and you were also their boss. There was a power imbalance of assets here. Almost like SHIELD access level numbers. Almost. You nodded. “Yeah- I’ll go release them. And uh… have a talk with DC.” Because the obvious contingencies weren’t there. What if you were incapacitated? They needed to be able to take orders from the rest of your team. ...although you wondered why Tony hadn’t gone down there and said something. 

It was too much to hope that was all- and even all that was still a hell of a lot to get through. Natasha passed a file down across the table your way and as you laid your hands on it she spoke. “Seems like we also have a vet in lockup. You labeled him enhanced but by all accounts he seems… just angry. Pretty normal.” 

Pulling the folder open you saw Will Simpson’s face looking back at you. A sigh escaped you, and you were extremely grateful when Bruce spoke up. “That’s the guy with the trifecta pocket pills, right?” 

Steve suddenly seemed very alert. “The combat enhancers?” Clearly they’d had a conversation about it. Which made sense. Those enhancers, Bruce’s initial research with Ross… it was all due to him. Not his fault, but just the miracle that the government had created by making him a super soldier. 

“He probably sweat it out by now.” You closed the file, sliding it Steve’s way next. “He wanted to kill Kilgrave. He attacked one of our agents. Can you go talk to him, Steve? And see if he’s fit for release?” 

His brows lifted and Steve tilted his head. “Me?” 

“I think more than anyone in this room, you’ll have his respect.” Trying to pick who would be the best to go talk to him. “If you say yes, I know where to drop him.” He was Trish’s friend. You’d ship him back that way. “We can charge him with deadly assault. Which I’m sure he’s been thinking on. But… Kilgrave twisted everyone up. I’d be willing to let it go if he stays away from the pills.” 

Natasha moved from her spot at the front of the room and gave Steve a little pat on the shoulder. “I’ll shadow you, if you want.” That was good, too. Having her opinion on the matter would really seal it all up. 

With everyone taking hold of their brief new assignments, chairs shifted on the floor as the entire room moved to get up and leave. You wanted, so much more than anything, to go to Tony. To tell him what the next few actions were right up until you needed him to take you on a jet and take you anywhere but here- but Bruce approached you just as you and Tony got in about two seconds of eye contact. 

Bruce nudged his glasses up with one hand and then held a folder around and out with the other. When you gave him a questioning glance, “This is uh… everything you need. IGH. They’re an underground research lab. They’re responsible for the pills. And a lot more.” 

Though you took hold of the folder, you didn’t open it. “Thanks for checking into that for me.” But right now you wanted nothing to do with it. It was clear they’d have to be shut down. Or assimilated. ...probably shut down. What they were doing went a little beyond the line of not-okay. Kind of reminded you a little bit of Killian… 

He just nodded. “Sure. Look… I don’t blame you if you wanna put it down right now but. I thought you should know. Jessica Jones’ name is on some of those files.” You weren’t sure if it was a blessing that you were too devoid of anything else to feel any kind of shock over this. But Bruce continued, “Not in a particularly complicit way, either.” 

Oh. ...oh. You held the folder a little tighter then. “Okay. Thanks for letting me know.” You’d have to hand those over to her, then. And absolutely no part of you wanted to look at it. Whatever was in there about her she could keep for herself and do whatever she wanted. The less involvement you had coming out of this the better. Because you really, truly, could not deal with it much longer. 

Holding the file closer to your chest, you leaned in to give him a hug. He’d done all this work for you and you hadn’t once asked. He, along with the rest of the team (probably him doing that work was what triggered the team to agree to all coming home suddenly), had just fallen in line for you. It was nice to have them home. Almost overwhelmingly so. His words were a quiet murmur. “We’re alright now. You should get some rest.” 

Probably to no one’s surprise, at the very least not your own, you were brushing back tears as you let go of him and plastering a very obvious smile across your face. “Yeah. I’ll think about it when we’re finished.” 

His nod was sad to say the least, but he then turned to Tony. The two shook hands, Tony said something you barely caught, and then Bruce left. Leaving just the two of you. He reached out to lay the hand not in the sling on your shoulder with a little tip of his head. “Bruce might be on to something, you know. Sleep might do you a lot of good. Some food, too, I’m sure.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure it would.” This dead and almost angry reply reeled you back in immediately. Tony barely reacted to it at all. If nothing else, you just felt understanding. And maybe that was harder to deal with. Taking a deep breath, holding, and then letting it out in a sigh, you reconfigured. “We’re almost done.” 

He drew you in just a little closer, and as his arm went around you, you closed your eyes, leaning your head on his shoulder. “Almost. Tell me what parts need to go where.” 

“Can you go get Jessica out? I’ll go to the hospital. Bring her with you and we’ll all meet there.” You had to release your two patients, if they were ready to go, and talk to whatever head of DC was patrolling the hallways. “After that…” 

Moving just a little, his hand brushed up the side of your neck and to your jawline, angling your gaze up his way. “After that?” 

It seemed the obvious was coming. Did you really have to say it? But as the two of you got stuck there looking at each other, you figured you should. “I can’t be here anymore. For a little while. Is that okay?” You needed to go. You couldn’t even think about being in the penthouse. This city… this city was just filling up to the brim with bad memories. Triumphant ones in the end, but bad nonetheless. 

“Understandable.” Palming your cheek, he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll have Happy fire up the jet. We can go from the hospital to the airport. Sound like a plan?” 

Thank god for Tony Stark. “Sounds like a plan.” Your body was just a little unwilling to move to get there. You wanted to just go from the Tower to the jet. To disappear for a little while. To not think about this anymore. To not wade in the aftermath… or think about him… though… you chanced a softer look up at him. “Did you and Happy get to talk?” 

He walled off immediately. “A little. Seems like you did a lot of legwork for us. So.” Giving a bare shrug. 

That was more of a no than it was a yes. It at least meant they were on speaking terms. But they deserved to have some closure on this, too. Even if you were nowhere near finding any and probably wouldn’t be for a long time. However, you knew you couldn’t force them, either. ...not until it was absolutely necessary. So you just leaned up, lips careful at the corner of his mouth. “Okay.” 

It would have to be, for now. 

                                                              --- 

Asking you to stay present and aware while you talked with your DC officers was asking almost a little too much. Your  brain felt like it was begging to just fade away. Your body was close behind. But if you didn’t put all this to rest now, if you didn’t stick to the plan, there would be no relaxing. There would be no getting on a jet and running away- as usual- because that’s what it was. But you were keen to make peace with the idea because you just couldn’t be here anymore. 

Changing the nested chain of command was ridiculously easy, although you could tell the woman you were speaking with had an air of doubt and an even bigger swell of unsure about her as you spoke. You had to cast it all aside and just make sure she’d take orders from anyone on the team. They all needed access to these agents. Because you were more sure now than you’d ever been before, big things like this were going to keep happening. And everyone needed the ability to call Damage Control if something terrible happened. 

...of course you also made sure that they knew every deployed use was to go on file. It wasn’t like you didn’t trust your team, but. You had to be in the know. Always. 

 You respectfully waved the agent away just as you saw Jeri coming down the hall. She looked relatively worse for wear, many bandages across random places on her face and some on her chest. As usual, she was dressed smartly, and you sensed she came here for business and business only. Once close enough to you she held a folder out. “I need your signature on a few pieces of paper for my client. Justin Boden. I’m sure you’re familiar.”

 So. Jessica had gone to Jeri to build a case for Justin. You knew exactly what she wanted. But after everything… “Why my signature?”

 She just grinned, bitterly at that. “Well. Since this seems to be a thing with you people, you can help him dodge murder charges. Considering what he’s been through.”

 “So now I’m a credible witness.” Unable to help yourself.

 “How about that.” Sounding completely unimpressed. She reached inside her jacket pocket to retrieve a pen and gave it a click. “I have other places to be, so if you’d hurry up.”

 You made sure to hold still and give off a full air of being highly unimpressed. “You can drop them at Stark Industries. My assistant will pass them through legal before I put my name on anything.” There was no telling what was on those papers, and you were too drained to read over them just now. ...you wouldn’t doubt that was something she was counting on. If you understood anything about Jeri Hogarth after all this.

 She held them out for just a little while longer before retreating. “Fine. Have it your way.” Then she seemed like she was going to turn and leave.

 But before she did, you leaned closer to her and dropped your voice. “Jessica said you had something to do with Kilgrave escaping.” Jeri had to be responsible for that in some form. So much had happened because of her. If it was true.

 The two of you stared at each other. For a long cold moment. Then another one of those angry smiles lit up her features. “Seems like we all have things we’d rather be kept quiet.”

 “Don’t threaten me. It’ll be the last mistake you ever make.” Maybe it was a poor thing to do, to lash out like that. React that way. But you would not let this woman walk all over you. Or try and hold you hostage.

 She let out a little breath of a laugh. “I have no doubt.”

 A woman exiting what should have been Luke’s room ended your conversation with Jeri. And as soon as she saw your attention go elsewhere she turned to leave. You didn’t stop her.

 The woman exiting his room was dressed in blue scrubs- lightly spattered with blood. Dark lightly wavy hair- loose, not tied up. You stepped over to her very quickly, “Excuse me-” Eyeing her- more specifically, the badge clipped to her pocket. Metro General Hospital. Not from here. But the name… Claire Temple. Your nerves quieted down. “Oh. You’re with Jessica.” 

She crossed her arms. “She said that much, huh?” Her voice was calm and careful. Although she was just a little standoffish. Which you were sure you couldn’t blame her for. 

“More than. Said something about a friend we have in common.” Not that you really wanted to care about that right now. 

Giving a curt little nod and a roll of her eyes, you felt her annoyance. “Well. You got more out of her than I think any of us did. If that’s the case.” Clearly she didn’t want to talk about it either. You could have said that Jessica offered all of that information up on her own, but. Maybe it wasn’t the best move. “That man in there.” Her gaze lifted back up and she seemed suddenly very serious. “You gonna put him on all your little superhero files? Or whatever it is you people do?” 

You felt the sink of your shoulders with a sigh you couldn’t help. “No. I’m not- we don’t tag people, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not interested in that. I don’t even want to know anything about him. The only thing I care about is that he’s okay.” The two of you shared a long look. She was sizing you up. Trying to tell if you were being honest. “...is he going to be okay?” 

Claire continued to stare at you for probably more time than was necessary. But you stood and took it. And finally were rewarded when she eased up with her own little sigh and a nod. “Yeah. He’s fine. Now. You have better tools than Jess’ apartment, anyway. Or at Metro.” She lifted her wrist. “Speaking of which- shit.” Looking at the time on her watch. 

Probably late for her actual job. By the simmer of anxiety that welled inside of her, probably very late. “Maybe it’s a little too forward but. If you want a job here-” 

“I don’t.” Quick and clipped as she held a hand up to you. “I don’t wanna be involved in any more of this.” She lowered her voice with a dip of her head. “No offense.” 

“None taken. But then why are you here?” What was the connecting thread here? 

She frowned. “He needed help. My hospital couldn’t do anything for him. And I…” She suddenly got very uncomfortable. 

“You could.” 

“Yeah. I could. But he’s fine now. So I’m gonna go to my actual job. And deal with people who have…” That discomfort was getting very heavy now. “Easier to deal with problems. Let’s put it.” 

To this you could only nod. Then, finally, you stuck out your hand. “Well. It was nice meeting you, Claire.” 

She didn’t take too long in giving you a returned shake. “You, too.” 

You stepped out of the way for her, but because it seemed like you really couldn’t help yourself… before she was too far away, you just had to ask. “Where are you from?” 

The shake of her head did a poor job of hiding the little smirk on her lips. She knew why you were asking. “Hell’s Kitchen.” Called from halfway down the hall, not stopping after saying it. 

“Place is kinda getting overcrowded, if you ask me.” Luke’s voice startled you enough to get you to jump. The warm roll of his laughter kept a wave from crashing over you and you turned back around to see him standing in front of his door with his hand up. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

You gave your chest a little pat. This was too much excitement after everything you’d been through. “It’s okay.” His clothes were a mess, but he looked… fine. “How are you feeling? They brought you in here considerably less…” Giving your hands a small turn over. “-okay looking than this.” 

He gave a little nod, a small press of his lips. “I’m fine. Thanks to you, so I hear.” 

Quickly you shook your head. “No. Thanks to Jessica. And Claire. And the people here. I literally had nothing to do with any of that.” 

“You let her bring me here. You gave them a safe place to help me when things weren’t looking so good. That counts for something.” He was such a sweet man, this Luke. 

“If you say so.” It was too much to ask that you accept this gratitude. You really hadn’t done anything. “And- before you ask- I didn’t ask anyone for details- I don’t wanna know. That’s your business and- Claire seems to think I’m gonna put a tracker on you or something so let me just tell you I’m not and I don’t want you to think-” 

“Hey, easy now. Alright?” The hand he laid on your shoulder was heavy, but it was gentle nonetheless. “I believe you. I wasn’t worried.” 

“You have no reason to.” Everyone seemed to question your intent constantly- and usually for completely understandable reasons. You wouldn’t have been upset had Luke taken the same route. 

His grin was light. “We met once already, if you don’t remember. And I’d like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character.” 

For one reason or another you found the courage to smile back. “Really. Because last we met I think I remember you telling me to not come back to your bar.” 

At this he made a face, hand leaving your shoulder to go up in a wave of defiance. “That is not what happened.” Seemingly offended, but only playfully so. His grin did not return, but his expression wasn’t one of annoyance. “Besides… my bar got blown up. Casualty of war. I’d at least like to know if I have to worry about anything else like that.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Really. Truly. You were. That was no doubt, in some way, Kilgrave’s doing. Maybe it was what put him here in the first place. “If you need funds or-” 

“No. Please don’t. I’m gonna take it as a sign and… like I said. Hell’s Kitchen is getting crowded. I think I’m headed back to Harlem for a while. But I appreciate the offer.” Letting that small gratefulness hang before asking seriously again as he looked at you, “Is that guy still out there?” 

The shake of your head was immediate. “No. He’s dead.” 

He breathed a noise out. It wasn’t one of relief, exactly. More a sort of muddled… acceptance. “You alright?” 

You really didn’t know this man. But knowing- sensing his honest intent there in asking you something like that- his genuineness, you couldn’t help the bitter smile. “I am not. And I think I need to go away for a while, too.” 

“No shame in that. I’d actually be more worried if you said you were.” Because if that were the truth, it meant killing may have become commonplace for you. And it hadn’t. It just… hadn’t. It took away pieces of you at a time. To make decisions like that and to carry them out. There was a familiar warm ping on your inner radar, and you turned to see Tony coming up the hallway with Jessica. Luke put his hand out. “You’re a good woman. Don’t let anyone tell you different.” 

Looking back at him you tried a smile and put your hand in his for a small shake. “Certainly not you.” 

His grin reappeared and he couldn’t seem to help a quiet chuckle. “Certainly not.” 

Tony was out of his sling (eventually you were going to have to have a talk with him about keeping medical devices on long enough for them to help him), hands in his pockets as he strolled closer. Although when he came to a stop, he reached up to take his sunglasses off, tucked them into his top pocket and half turned to Jessica. “I was serious about the offer by the way. You’re a terrible team player but that doesn’t necessarily disqualify you from being Avenger material.” 

Jessica seemed in good spirits. Which was a strange thing for her. The noise that left her was one part annoyed and one part amused. “Never in a million fucking years.” 

Tony just shrugged. “Your loss.” He then turned to stick his hand out to Luke. “Mr. Cage. Nice seeing you again.” 

Luke considered the offer and then gave him a return shake. “Mr. Stark. If we’re all lucky, this’ll be the last time.” 

You were too biased. The sudden half smirk on Tony’s lips had you smiling immediately. “You know, that doesn’t sound much like a compliment.” 

“I don’t think it was one.” Thankfully, Luke was grinning back. 

Jessica double tapped him on the arm. “Alright. Who’s-got-the-bigger-dick time is over. Can you go wait in the room?” 

“I’m fine. Thanks for asking.” Although he said this in a slightly clipped way, you could tell he wasn’t serious. Not with the way he was looking at her.

She just eyed him with a smile. “You look fine. It’s why I didn’t.” She didn’t mean this, either. And after enough staring he shook his head and went back into his hospital room, closing the door behind him. 

Tony crossed his arms. “I’m not going in there with him.” 

At this Jessica gave him quite the stare. “You’ve made it annoyingly obvious by now that you don’t do anything anyone says.” 

“That makes two of us.” 

“Just stand there and shut up for five minutes. If you can.” When he rolled his eyes and mostly turned away she put her attention back on you. “So. Seems like we’re finished, here.” 

You nodded. “Claire left for her job. Luke’s up, obviously. Hope’s asleep right now but. Aside from a really nasty scar she’ll be okay. Simpson’s probably getting discharged soon. And-” 

“And Kilgrave’s dead. Which is the important part.” 

It was hard to tell why she cut you off to say such a thing. But there was a swell of catharsis. Kilgrave was dead. It was over. It was finally over. “Yeah.” There was a weird catch in the back of your throat. It felt like you were just a couple degrees away from losing it very suddenly. Tony moved, almost imperceptibly. But you noticed. He was watching you. “Kilgrave is dead.” Beyond you somewhere you heard the crash of waves against the pier. And saw the light disappear from his eyes.

You and Jessica shared a long look. Eventually she was the one to break the silence. “So that’s it, then. We’re finished.”

“Seems that way.” 

Yet the two of you stood there just a little longer. Watching one another. Maybe the two of you should have had a talk. A long talk to decompress over this shared trauma. But… instead she just nodded. “Alright then. ...thanks. For everything.” And after that she turned away and went into Luke’s room. 

Leaving you there. Wondering what more you should have said so that you didn’t have to feel like this anymore. But you weren’t there in silence, or alone, for more than a few seconds before Tony moved over and put his arm around you. Pulled you to him. You rubbed your head against his shoulder and drew your hands up his back, holding on to him. Breathing him in. Letting him keep you stable. 

“Ready to go anywhere that’s not here?” 

Music was playing somewhere in your memory. Honey- I’ve gotta be honest. I hate it here. I can’t say that I blame you.

New York City had become a breeding ground for psychological damage that seemed beyond repair. For the both of you. A long time ago he’d tried to run away from here, too. And now… now you wanted to do the same. And he was letting you. 

You turned your head up, smiling weakly at him. “Yes. Please.” 

This was a runaway vacation but… the two of you needed to have a very real talk soon. You just didn’t think you could be in the city anymore. Not after all this. 

 Lifting a hand, he smoothed his fingertips across your forehead and then through your hair. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I love you.”

 Hearing this, and feeling it from him, it was an eternal balm for your soul. “I love you, too.”

 As long as you had that… you’d be alright.

[kwritersworld]

CHRISTMAS PROMPT EVENT’19

KWRITERSWORLD's first Christmas Event will be a prompt claim - Fic Event centered around the most wonderful time of the year! Are you ready? 

Claiming is first come, first serve! You can view the list of prompts under the read more at the end of this post. Prompt Claiming will be opened on the 23rd of November, at 6PM CET, until the 30th. We will post a link to the document where you can simply write your name next to the prompt you want to claim. 

After you claimed your prompt don’t forget to apply through the separate application (that will be linked then) as well to verify your claiming! Once you did all that, you’ll receive a confirmation message from the admins and you can start writing!

Who is allowed to participate? Every member of @kwritersworld​, @bangtanarmynet​ @btswriterscollective​ @btsbookclub​ @bangtansmutcentral​ are allowed to participate. 

And the rules are? Simple! Your story has to be at least 500 words long, everything over that word count is up to you. You can also write a chaptered-story, but the first chapter needs to be posted until the due date.

Make sure to follow the rules of the KWRITERSWORLD network as always or else we won’t be reblogging your work or add it onto the event’s masterlist. 

Don’t forget to tag your fanfic-exchange related work with the official tag #kwchristmasevent & #kwritersworldnet (as far as you’re a member of this network). If you’re not a member of Kwritersworld however but are participating through an affiliated network, please only use the tag #kwchristmasevent and the tag of your network so they can reblog your work as well.

You can start posting your stories on the 1st until the 31st of December which is the due date!

If you have any more questions before or need help while working on your fics don’t hesitate to send the network an ask. We only would ask of you to do so off anon, so we can reply to you privately!

- Your KwritersworldTeam

You can find all prompts to look at under the cut. 

Scenarios:

A made B a Christmas playlist but it’s just Mariah Care’ys “All I want for Christmas is you.” B can’t tell if they are hitting on them or if it’s a joke.

A & B are both stuck at the airport for Christmas eve.

A & B are neighbors and A just got locked out of their apartment. A was baking cookies that will burn if they don’t get in there quick.

A is robbing the bank on Christmas eve and B is a hostage but A is actually really nice - wait what?

A & B hate each other, but they are standing under the mistletoe and their friends won’t let them leave until they kiss

A & B were too busy thinking about the Christmas dinner that they forgot about the decoration and quick! Their family will be there in a couple of hours!

A & B gets trapped in a shopping mall after hours doing last-minute Christmas shopping.

A was having a snowball fight with a friend in the park and accidentally hit B instead.

A slipped on ice on Christmas and guess who their doctor is...

A & B cuddling in the bathtub together, because it’s cold outside

A & B are avoiding the mistletoe at all costs, while everyone else is trying to get them under it

A did that annoying thing where they put loads of smaller boxes inside one big box and B is getting really mad but they have no idea what’s in the smallest box and A can’t wait to see their face.

How did A & B get chosen to help Santa at the mall? These elf costumes look ridiculous - although B looks kinda cute.

Person A gets super drunk during a Christmas party with their family and Person B has to try and keep them under control. 

A sudden snowstorm forces A and B to cancel all their plans and spend the whole day at home together. 

Person A trying to set up the tree for Christmas but Person B has to pick Person A up for them to put ornaments on the tree because they’re so short.

Person A and B decorating their house/apartment together and when Person A goes to another room to grab some more ornaments they hear Person B yell. When they rush back into the room they see Person B has somehow tangled themself into the Christmas lights and fell over.

Character A overhears Character B’s Christmas wish and decides to fulfill it.

A & B go to the Christmas market together.

A is waking up hungover after an office party and not remembering what happened.

A gets a Secret Santa gift from a secret admirer and tries to discover their identity.

Person A makes hot chocolate for Person B but when they hand them their mug, Person A drops it spilling the piping hot drink on Person B. Person A then helps Person B clean themself up and treat any burns they might have.

A and B are meeting their friends at a family cabin to spend Christmas, only to find that their friends aren’t coming - it was a set up.

Person A and Person B were supposed to go out for a date but a snowstorm hits and they get snowed in. Person A is really sad about it so Person B builds them a blanket fort so they can spend the evening snuggling and watching Christmas movies together.

A and B are Christmas shopping together, A finds the perfect present for B and has to buy it without them noticing. 

A and B getting into a fight while decorating the Christmas tree because A wants to throw everything on and get it done, but B is invested in making it aesthetically pleasing.

A and B get caught in a snowstorm and have to share body heat until they can get somewhere warm. 

Person A being sad when they weren’t able to buy a real tree to decorate for Christmas so Person B buys a little bonsai tree for them to decorate, even though it’s only a foot tall.

Quotes:

“You’re making a mess.” // “Shut up and pass me the tape.” // “There’s more tape on that present than wrapping paper.”

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

“Exactly how much more hinting do I have to do?”

“Fuck it let’s just get drunk”

“Can we please watch something else? This is the 4th time today we’ve watched elf. And it’s November 1st.”

“Did you break into my house??” // “You refused to put up any Christmas decorations! What choice did I have?” 

“Don’t feel bad… you didn’t COMPLETELY ruin Christmas dinner. There’s still this… jello stuff.“

“Who walks on an ice-covered pond anymore? Don’t you know how stupid that is? You should’ve died in that pond. Natural selection.”

“Everyone shut up and pretend to be happy.”

“It’s not what’s under the tree that matters, it’s those who are gathered around it.” // “Shut up and give me my present.”

“So, still no boyfriend this year, huh?” // “Still no job, huh?”

“Are you seriously making a gingerbread house at midnight?” 

“Is that a candy-cane in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“You can’t just disappear off the face of this earth, make a reappearance for the holidays and think everything will be okay.”

“See? None of this would have happened if we had just stopped and asked for directions when I told you to.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you’re trying to do. But you will not ruin my Christmas. Not again. Not this year.”

“Wow. You’ve got some nerve inviting them here.”

“What do you mean your parents are coming over?”

“Can’t I just give you $20 and you can buy something for yourself?”

“Merry Christmas, you little shit.”

“You know, you remind me a lot of the Grinch. The only difference is in the end, his heart grows three sizes, but you stay an asshole.”

“Merry Christmas to all and to all-wait, not you, I don’t like you”

“What do you mean you’ve never been ice-skating?”

“I can’t believe you did all this for me.” // “It’s Christmas.”

“You didn’t really think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

AU’s

Fake!Boyfriend/Fake!Girlfriend AU

Snowqueen!AU

Elf!AU

Neighbour!AU in which one gets drunk on mulled wine and ends up knocking at the other’s door, drunkenly trying to seduce the other and- instead- passing out in their living room.

IceSkater!AU

Christmas lights rivalry!AU

Baking Cookies/ Contest rivalry!AU

Getting Snowed in!AU

Christmas Ghosts!AU

Grinch!AU (A is not fond of the Holidays but B is making it their life goal to give them a wonderful Christmas!)

Drunk Christmas Caroling!AU

Eggnog and chill!AU

Frozen!AU

The Nutcracker!AU

sources: x, x, x, x, x, x

[southeastasianists]

If you’re a medieval historian, you normally work a lot with manuscripts. A manuscript is just a text written by hand, although manuscripts are distinguished from inscriptions by the material on which they are written: a manuscript is normally written on perishable materials — like calfskin in much of Europe, birch bark in Russia and Central Asia, bamboo and paper in East Asia, and palm leaves in India and Southeast Asia — while an inscription is cut into a stone or metal surface. Manuscripts are usually a lot more informative than inscriptions and also a lot more diverse in content and authorship. In Europe and Northeast Asia there are a lot of medieval manuscripts.

An image from Royal Armouries manuscript I.33, the oldest armed martial arts treatise in the world. It was written in southern Germany in the early fourteenth century, and is thus older than almost any extant Indo-Malaysian manuscript on any topic. This says a lot about the range of sources historians working in each region can expect to use. Full manuscript can be found here (Wiktenauer).

Manuscripts are often illustrated, giving valuable information about life and times not explicitly recorded in writing. Their pages can be dated chemically, giving reasonably precise dates even to texts without written chronograms — although this isn’t necessary with many texts, as close dates can often be established on the basis of the script. If the script looks like a fourteenth-century script, you’re probably looking at a fourteenth-century text (although there’s more to it than that). There are enough texts to allow for this kind of detailed palaeographic analysis in much of Europe and temperate Asia.

The language and script (littera hybrida) of this manuscript tell us that it was written in around the middle of the fifteenth century in the Low Countries. There are tons of manuscripts in littera hybrida; it was practically the national script of the Netherlands in the fifteenth century.

All of this should be reasonably obvious and well-known. Here, though, I want to point out that medieval Afro-Eurasia — let’s leave the Americas aside for the purposes of this article — wasn’t a single temperate environment in which both state and private archives hoarded and preserved large numbers of texts written on organic materials. These kinds of sources just aren’t available for much of the world, whether because writing never developed there or because organic materials don’t last long in certain environments. Naturally, these problems are particularly acute in humid tropical climates.

In much of the tropics, insects, heat, and humidity meant that even if texts were written on palm leaves and animal skins, they had to be deliberately preserved or copied perhaps once in a generation in order to make their way down to us today. This wasn’t the case in England or China; a locked wooden box in a parish church or town hall would be sufficient to keep a piece of parchment safe and few special measures needed to be taken. The medieval historical record is thus inherently biased in favour of societies in temperate climes.

The number of genuinely medieval manuscripts from Southeast Asia can be counted on one hand, even though we know from inscriptions that writing has a long history in the region (dating back to the fourth century and possibly earlier). The oldest extant Malay manuscript has been radiocarbon dated to the fourteenth century, even though the oldest Malay inscriptions date to the seventh century and are thus slightly older than the oldest texts in English. We are consequently reliant on inscriptions for the reconstruction of much of medieval Indo-Malaysian history and society, and on much later (definitively post-medieval) manuscripts for the study of Southeast Asian literature. This gives a particular spin to historical events and restricts what can be studied through traditional philological methods.

“Raja Barus”, ‘the King of Barus’ in a Malay manuscript of 1797, one of the oldest copies of the Hikayat Raja Pasai. The story probably dates to the fourteenth century. Yes: it was written in the late eighteenth century. Yes: it’s a good source for the fourteenth century. That’s how a lot of history in the tropics works. Deal with it.

This presents scholars of the medieval Old World tropics with a bit of a problem. Historians of medieval Europe can freely parade manuscript illustrations in books and, nowadays, on social networks without any qualms because the illustrations they’re showing off are bona fide medieval images. But you can’t do that if the manuscripts didn’t survive, and there are a lot of issues involved in using later manuscripts to demonstrate earlier art and history. How can a complete picture of the Hemispheric Middle Ages be created and shown to the world when Indonesian and tropical African manuscripts are so late and so poorly represented?

Should scholars of the medieval tropics focus on ‘legitimately’ medieval things — bronzes, inscriptions, reliefs — or should they include later images of supposedly earlier phenomena and risk collapsing the entire history of e.g. Indonesia into one undivided whole?

In museums you tend to find the latter approach. In the Tropenmuseum in Amsterdam, the oldest keris in the world (made, or at least inscribed, in 1342 CE) is in the same case as a piece of nineteenth-century Muslim headgear. Colonial-era dress and artworks rub shoulders with tenth-century bronzes and thirteenth-century statues. I find that problematic; you wouldn’t put a medieval English sword and a Regency-era lady’s bonnet in the same display, I shouldn’t think. Europe and Indonesia are thus treated differently: Europe’s history is divided into sections that are studied more or less independently while Asian history, and especially tropical Asian history, is treated as one inseparable whole, divided more by region than by period. This is one reason among many why Southeast Asia may never be integrated into the academic study of the medieval world (let alone the popular imagination about the Middle Ages).

And what about eastern Indonesia and New Guinea? Neither part produced any written literature, as far as we know, before the fifteenth century, and the oldest manuscripts from eastern Indonesia date to the early sixteenth century. New Guinea was part of the medieval world; it was certainly known to people in fourteenth- and fifteenth-century Java and other parts of Indonesia. But what can we show the world to represent this medieval Papuan history? There aren’t any manuscripts. There aren’t even any sculptures or very many bronze objects (although some of the latter are occasionally found). That doesn’t mean New Guinea just vanished from the world in the Middle Ages or that the people there preserved some primordial ‘Stone Age’ lifeways, though, as the popular imagination seems to have it.

Art in New Guinea, whether on the coasts or in the highlands, is dominated by wooden sculpture. While plenty of carved wooden objects survive from temperate medieval Eurasia, no examples of the wooden sculpture of medieval New Guinea have come down to us. Can we assume that modern sculpture is representative of earlier tradition?

That seems like a big leap to me. New Guinea isn’t a primeval place unchanged since the dawn of time but rather a place full of creative human beings, a place where fashion and religion operate like they do anywhere else. Showing a Papuan carving made in the twentieth century by a specific artist from a particular ethnic group as if it were representative of a prehistoric or medieval tradition would ultimately be as peculiar as using David Hockney’s oeuvre to showcase medieval English painting. Style always changes. Where truly medieval eastern Indonesian art has survived, as with a few of the lovely textiles preserved as heirlooms in Timor, the motifs are strikingly different from modern ones.

If we want to raise awareness of the tropical world, then, how do we go about it? How can scholars working on Europe get to know island Southeast Asia and the Swahili coast without introducing an orientalist bias that treats the Middle Ages as identical to modern times, or to some arbitrary ‘traditional’ point in the past? It’s a real conundrum. I suspect, though, that the solution is to help expand the traditional medievalist’s view of what constitutes valid evidence about the medieval world — and perhaps to highlight the ways in which the temperate world diverges from the tropics.

Does the absence of a written or artistic or sculptural record exclude a place from consideration as part of the ‘Global Middle Ages’? Yes — if you restrict yourself to the methods and ideas of traditional medieval scholarship. But if the objective is to account for and better understand the world before the Columbian Exchange, methods simply have to be broadened: the triangulation of archaeology, comparative ethnography, historical linguistics, oral history, and ethnohistory has to be brought in to complement traditional philological scholarship. If that isn’t done then our image of the medieval world will always be restricted to what was written down and preserved, and that naturally introduces a bias towards the temperate — and perhaps also to the European, the white, and the colonial.

This article first appeared as a post on the Medieval Indonesia blog, and a version of its argument has appeared in print in Bryan C. Keene (ed.), 2019,Toward a Global Middle Ages, Los Angeles: The J. Paul Getty Museum.

[idontfindyouthatinteresting]

For fic writers, artists, or people who just want to know what on earth is going on with this game, I’ve created some resources, this is the Character Profiles but there is also a…

Glossary / Plot Outline

ALL OF THESE CONTAIN HUGE SPOILERS - THEY ARE THE FACTS AS I KNOW THEM - READING THIS WILL SPOIL THE GAME FOR YOU. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. If there’s anything that’s wrong let me know with a source to the correct answer, but I haven’t written anything I’ve not been sure of, but this is all based on my memory of the game, if there’s characters that should be added, please let me know.

Sam Porter Bridges - Also known as ‘Sam Strand,’ ‘Sam Porter,’ ‘Sam Bridges’ / DOOMS - Lvl 2 / Repatriate / Porter (Bridges, then Independent, then Bridges)

The son of Clifford Unger and Lisa Bridges. Born to a still mother and placed into a BB pod, Cliff attempted to rescue Sam from the Bridges facility and failed resulting in both their deaths. When an infant Sam made it to the Beach, his bullet wound to the stomach was fixed, causing a cross scar on his stomach which is still present in adulthood, and was sent back into the ‘real’ world by Amelie and therefore made into a Repatriate. When back in the ‘real’ world he was brought up by Bridget (Amelie’s older ‘Ha’) as her son. Sam has nightmares in his youth and he ends up on Amelie’s beach where she helps him. Amelie gifts him a dream catcher to try and help him with his nightmares. He had a partner and an unborn child (a son he was going to call ‘Lou,’) lost prior to the start of the game. When the game starts Sam has no attachments, is living as a porter. He has a delivery to Capital Knot City and gets caught up in the death of the President, the woman who raised him, she asks him to complete the chiral network to bring the UCA together again. Sam acquires his BB during these initial tasks, from someone in corpse disposal who passes in a void out Sam survives. Sam is asked to incinerate BB because they believe BB is faulty, but doesn’t. Sam is pursuaded by Amelie to complete the task as laid out by the president, but not because Sam wants to bring America back together again, but because Amelie asked. Sam has to travel cross country connecting the Chiral network, he continues his job as a porter, making deliveries as he goes to help people and to persuade people to join the UCA. Sam has lots of success doing this, and word quickly spreads giving people hope. Sam begins to discover through his connections that the situation and the science aren’t as simple as he thought. He also starts to see what be believes are BB’s memories where Cliff is attempting to free BB from the control of Bridges but they aren’t sure what they mean. He works closely with Fragile, manages to defeat Higgs who heads up a terrorist organisation and makes it to the West connecting things up as he goes. Sam creates a close bond with BB and expresses a desire to live with BB, rejecting the idea that BB is equipment. After travelling all the way West Sam is told he needs to come back East, to meet up with all the scientists he’s met along the way in an attempt to end what the Death Stranding started and avert the extinction of humanity. They learn that Amelie is the key to the extinction and is causing it. Sam is transported to Amelie’s beach to convince her to give humanity a chance. Sam manages to do this, and Amelie will hold up the extinction as long as possible. Sam is rescued from the Beach and returns to life as a porter. After the inauguration of Die-Hardman as the new President, Sam learns of Die-Hardman’s betrayal of Cliff, and is then told that his BB, who he affectionately calls ‘Lou’ after his unborn child, has passed with the strains of their journey. Sam take Lou on one last delivery to the incinerator to stop Lou becoming a BT. Deadman deactivates Sam’s cufflinks so he can leave Bridges if he wants. Sam connects with Lou’s pod in an attempt to wake her up and see’s memories of Cliff attempting to save him as a baby, managing to talk with Cliff properly and they discover together they’re actually father and son. After this Sam burns his cufflinks in the incinerator but can’t bear to burn Lou and breaks the pod and resuscitates her successfully. Sam leaves with Lou giving up with life with Bridges. In connecting America back together again, Sam learns that humanity is worth it, worth saving and that if the whole country is worth saving, maybe he is too. Sam for a large part of the story has a fear of touch which affects him profoundly, but by the end of the story it seems to affect him less.

Fragile / DOOMS - Lvl UNKNOWN (Greater than Sam) / Porter Company Owner (Fragile Express)

Fragile DOOMs gives her the ability to teleport to her Beach and then teleport in the ‘real’ world, so she is able to travel long distances quickly. She took over her father’s porter company, Fragile Express, to continue her father’s dream of bringing America together again. Fragile worked with Higgs for a long time, but was betrayed by him as Higgs hid an armed nuclear bomb in her cargo bound for Middle Knot City. The bomb detonated and the city destroyed. Higgs takes Fragile hostage, and has a second bomb which he gives to her in the middle of South Knot City, Higgs causes timefall and tasks Fragile with running the bomb, in her underwear through Timefall to save the city, or to vanish and save herself. Higgs only give Fragile covering for her head so everyone always knows her face. Fragile saves the city, but exposes her body to Timefall which drastically ages her skin. There was a lot of speculation about whether Fragile Express was a terrorist organisation or used by Higgs, so the company causes a lot of controversy in certain areas of America. Sam isn’t sure what to believe and doesn’t trust Fragile for a long time. Higgs attempts a false delivery again to get Sam to take a bomb to Fragile, but they discover it ahead of time and Sam throws the bomb into the tar pit. Sam and Fragile build trust over this. Fragile helps to send Sam after Higgs in an attempt to rescue Amelie on the condition that Fragile can finish Higgs off. Sam delivers Higgs to Fragile, weak but alive. Fragile gets information from him, but cannot bear to shoot him despite her desire too and offers to leave him stranded on the beach forever or he can shoot himself. Fragile offers to take Sam back east but Sam decides to go with Amelie and is stranded. Fragile transports the team working to end the extinction to Capital Knot City, hugely weakening herself and putting herself in a coma, and can’t manage to get Sam. Fragile then sends Sam to Amelie’s beach to stop the extinction at the end, at great pains to her. Once the extinction is avoided, Fragile gets the first private contract for Porters from the UCA, she offers Sam a job with her which Sam refuses in order to go off grid. Fragile says that Sam doesn’t have run and hide anymore, that he’s changed, got something to fight for.

Clifford Unger - Also known as ‘Cliff,’ ‘Veteran’ / DOOMS - None / Soldier

 Cliff is in the American military, fought in many wars contemporary to us. Fought with Die-Hardman and was his Captain, Die-Hardman credits Cliff with saving his life repeatedly. Cliff is married to Lisa Bridges and Lisa falls pregnant with their first child together, Cliff leaves the military in order to be there for his wife and child. Unfortunately Lisa falls ill and is turned into a still mother, their unborn child removed from the womb at 28 weeks. Cliff is told repeatedly they’d attempt to get BB and Lisa out of their states, but this was a lie. Cliff is told this by Die-Hardman, that BB will be taken away and used as the base code for a Knot City and he gives Cliff a window to end Lisa’s life, a mercy, and take BB and try and get him out of the hospital. Cliff attempts this, but fails, is shot and captured by hospital/Bridges security. Cliff removes BB from his pod, and he survives against the odds, Amelie shoots Cliff to try and get BB back but accidentally shoots BB too. Cliff is seen on the beach in the distance when Amelie sends BB back into the ‘real’ world. It is presumed, but not shown that Amelie convinces Cliff to work for her in exchange for being able to get his child back again. Amelie gives Cliff powers and Cliff sets about attempting to find his child in the world. Cliff’s military background means that he connects with beaches created from the mass slaughter of millions of soliders in battles and his connection with Sam, as Sam is secretly his son, drags Sam into these battles. Both Sam and Cliff are of the belief the BB Cliff is looking for is Sam’s BB (Lou), and Sam fights Cliff to try and weaken him so Sam is allowed back to the ‘real’ world and Cliff tries to take Sam’s BB (Lou) by mistake. Bridges are of the opinion for a time that Cliff is actually controlling Higgs and the mastermind behind the extinction event. In the last battle, Cliff and Sam bond over their care for what is perceived to be the same BB, and Lou expresses a happiness to stay with Sam, which Cliff accepts, he hugs Sam and disappears. Cliff is next seen when Sam is accessing what he believes to be the memories of Lou who was dead at this point. Sam thinks he’s just watching the memories, but he’s able to influence them, he puts himself between Cliff and Die-Hardman’s gun. Cliff realises that Sam’s full name is ‘Sam Porter Bridges’ and puts the pieces together that Sam is actually his son. Cliff puts himself between Sam and the gun and Amelie shoots him, killing Cliff and what has been discovered to be the infant Sam at the same time. Cliff has associations and seems to gain his power from the BT tar, and has an army of dead soldiers he can command. He also uses Amelie’s substitute BB’s - the creepy dolls. Cliff’s motivation is simply to get his son back and show him the world. He gets peace from knowing that Sam has done that, lived a good life, done good things and helped connect America. At the end, Cliff says that he’s always been a stopping point, obstructive like a cliff face, but Sam has always been his bridge to the future.

Deadman / DOOMs - None / Doctor (Bridges)

 A Bridges doctor, who was grown from embryonic stem cells and flesh harvested from cadavers. Because of his he has a Ha, a physical body, but no Ka, no soul. Deadman has a self-confessed dislike of BB’s, and Lou is aware of this and leaks artificial womb fluid all over him deliberately. Deadman says that he has no mother, no family, no friends, no beach. But in helping to save humanity he gains friends, and a bond with Lou. Deadman does a lot of research for Sam, finding out information he shouldn’t have access too and digging up details on Die-Hardman for him. Deadman pulls Sam off of Amelie’s Beach back into the ‘real’ world, he helps when Lou gets sick and helps them get better for Sam and helps Sam disappear at the end of the story for a life with Lou undisturbed by the UCA. Despite Sam not liking touch, he voluntarily hugs Deadman at the end of the story which clearly has a profound effect on him, finally building connections with people who aren’t dead.

Malingen - Also known as ‘Mama’ / DOOMs - Lvl UNKNOWN / Hardware Technician (Bridges)

Twin sister to Lockne with whom she has an intense bond, they’re believed to be one Ka separated between two Ha’s. Malingen created the Chiral network and Q-pid hardware, is a genius of unknown proportions. Malingen had no viable eggs, and her sister was unable to carry a baby to term, so when her sister needed a surrogate, Malingen stepped up to carry her child. Whilst awaiting a C-section a terrorist attack meant the hospital was bombed, Malingen was trapped inside and gave birth whilst trapped in the rubble, the baby passed and became a BT whilst still connected to Malingen. Her child’s crying caused Mama to be found and rescued, but she was unable to leave the site because of her child’s connection with the site and the other side. Mama’s child is a harmless BT whom she can cradle and touch, but this is because Mama is dead, hiding her status by not wearing her cufflinks properly. There is an issue with the Q-pid, which requests Lockne’s help to fix, but Lockne and Mama grew apart after the issues with their child. Mama knows that to get the Q-pid fixed, she needs to see Lockne, to build their bond again and convince her to help bridges. Mama creates the umbilical cord cutting cufflinks for Sam using Sam’s own blood and gets Sam to separate her and her child by cutting the cord. Mama only has a short time to live without the connection to her child, and Sam transports her to Lockne and Mama passes once she meets her sister again. As Malingen and Lockne are on Ka, Mama is still able to converse with Sam through Lockne.

Lockne / DOOMS - Lvl UNKNOWN / Software Technician (Independent, then Bridges)

Twin sister of Malingen with whom she has an intense bond, they’re believed to be one Ka separated between two Ha’s. Lockne wrote the software enabling the Chiral Network and the Q-pid, is of equal genius to her twin and runs Mountain Knot City. After issues with the UCA she wouldn’t accept joining until Malingen was brought to her, and accepted joining as one of her final wishes. Lockne felt Malingen return to her after her Ha finally passed and continued help to fight the extinction event with her and everyone else. Lockne takes care of Lou whilst Sam goes to convince Amelie to stop the extinction.

Die-Hardman - Also known as ‘John Blake McClane’ / DOOMS - None / Head of Bridges, President of the United Cities of America, Former Soldier

 Formerly a soldier in a unit with Clifford Unger for the American army and credits him with saving his life on multiple occasions. Die-Hardman then joined Bridges, and was part of the security team supervising the hospital where Cliff’s wife and son were being treated. Die-Hardman gave Cliff the advice and window needed to attempt to escape. This escape is a failure, and Die-Hardman is ordered to shoot Cliff by Bridget, in the first timeline we see, he does this. Die-Hardman continues to serve Bridget until her death as the President of the UCA. He wants to finish her work and attempts to persuade and help guide Sam across the US. Die-Hardman is primarily the one giving Sam orders during the story. As time goes on, Deadman and Sam become less sure they can trust him, because of his involvement with the BB program and potentially hiding files. Die-Hardman is taken to Amelie’s beach but he manages to smuggle a gun. He comes face to face with Cliff once more, Cliff doesn’t kill Die-Hardman on sight which is what he expected, Die-Hardman believes this means Cliff has forgiven him. Die-Hardman is spared from the beach and reappears in Captial Knot City weak but alive. It’s unknown what happened to him. When we next see him he’s being inaugurated as the President of the UCA, in his speech, he thanks Sam for his work as an ‘unsung hero’ but doesn’t name him directly as he knows Sam wouldn’t want that. After the ceremony, Die-Hardman catches up with Sam and they discuss Cliff, Die-Hardman breaks down with the weight of what he did and expresses that he thinks that Cliff would have forgiven him and Sam reacts badly, Sam recovered the gun Die-Hardman left on the Beach, and gives it back to him, advising Die-Hardman that “the gun won’t work here.” When Sam manages to get back into his own memories, he’s able to be present there as an adult and effects them, he puts himself between Cliff and Die-Hardman’s gun, this forces Bridget to take hold of the gun and the trigger over Die-Hardman’s hand and shoots Cliff. Die-Hardman wears a mask for most of the story, it’s believed that his face is badly burned which is why he wears it, but actually it’s Bridgets mask, worn by Die-Hardman so people wouldn’t recognise him, after being inaugurated he removes the mask.

Heartman / DOOMS - Lvl UNKNOWN / Research Scientist (Bridges)

Heartman lives and works in a distant lab, South East of Mountain Knot City. When Sam meets him Heartman is dead, an AED device he permanently wears over his check shocks his heart and he wakes up. Heartman advises Sam that he was undergoing heart surgery in a hospital when an attack destroyed the hospital’s generator, and Heartman was dead for 21 minutes. His wife and child were killed in the attack and Heartman lost them on the Beach. Since then, every 21 minutes his heart goes into cardiac-arrest and he dies, he’s dead for 3 minutes before his AED shocks him back. During this time, he searches Beaches for his wife and child. Heartman dies and is resuscitated 60 times a day, he has a collection of media which can be consumed within 21 minutes, he says that largely bodily functions can be fit into a 21 minute window, with the exception of sleep and sex. Heartman’s heart is drastically malformed because of the strain it’s under and is more

BB-28 - Also known as ‘Bridge Baby,’ ‘BB,’ ‘Lou′ / DOOMs - None / Bridge Baby

BB-28 is first seen being used by a member of Corpse Disposal, Sam goes with CD and they’re attacked by BT’s, the CD person using BB-28 is taken by BT’s and he throws the BB away to save them. Sam survives the attack as he’s a repatriate and uses BB-28 to get back to Capital Knot City. Sam is tasked with taking the Presidents body for incineration and they include a still living BB-28 in the cargo for incineration as they believe BB-28 malfunctioned, leading to the void out. Sam doesn’t want to incinerate BB-28, and is attacked by BT’s in the incinerator, he uses BB again to get back to Capital Knot City, and says that he’d continue to use BB. Sam and BB bond through deliveries, avoiding BT’s and travelling together. BB’s usually don’t work for people with DOOMs, despite this Lou and Sam work well together and their connection is undeniable, Sam starts to refer to BB-28 as ‘Lou’ which we find out is the name Sam and his partner would have given to their unborn child who passed. When Sam gets to Mountain Knot City, Deadman says that Lou needs treatment as they’re drifting off balance and leaning more to the world of the living than the dead like other BB’s, and Sam said that this isn’t a problem for him as they want to live together. Deadman is able to restore the balance, but in doing so he wipes Lou’s memories of Sam and they have to rebuild their bond again. But they do this without issue. As the circumstances with Cliff become more apparent and they continue to visit him in the supercells, it’s believed that Lou is Cliff’s child, the lullaby that Cliff sings to his child makes Lou happy with Sam whistles it to them. As Sam travels to Capital Knot City again Lou gets more unwell, is unable to connect fully in their incubator. Sam leaves Lou behind to go Amelie’s beach with Lockne for safety. When Sam returns from Amelie’s beach and Die-Hardman is inaugurated, Deadman advises Sam that Lou has passed away, presumably from the stress of the journey. Sam takes it upon himself to deliver Lou to the incinerator to stop them becoming a BT. Sam at the last minute rescues Lou from the incinerator, breaks open their pod and attempts to resuscitate Lou, with only a 30% chance of success, but is successful. Lou is awake and alive when Sam steps out of the incinerator. It’s revealed in a post credits scene that Lou’s full name is Louise. Lou controls Sam’s Odradek which waves BT’s goodbye once they’re defeated and gives a thumbs up when you’re clear of BT’s. When Higgs shoots Sam, Lou uses the Odradek to protect him from the bullets. You can rock Lou, and Lou will give you likes. If you fall off a high ledge or walk in too high water Lou will cry and you need to soothe her by rocking her. Too many attacks from BT’s will give Lou autotoxemia and she needs to go back into her incubator in a private room to recover.

Amelie Strand - Also known as ‘Extinction Entity,’ ‘EE,’ ‘Bridget,’ ‘ Amerigo,’ / DOOMs - Lvl UNKNOWN / Extinction Entity, President of the UCA

Amelie’s story is complex, to start with, she’s shown as someone who soothed Sam on the beach as a child when he had nightmares. She ran Bridges Expedition I which set up the Chiral Network, but was taken hostage in Edge Knot City and is unable to leave because of the terrorists. Sam can speak with her through Chiralgrams and Amelie convinces Sam to travel West and connect up the Chiral Network, Sam does this for her and her alone, as Bridget, the President of the UCA, brought them both up and Sam feels for her strongly. As Sam travels West he hears lots of stories of how wonderful Amelie is but that no one has seen her physically for a long time. Heartman and Sam come to the conclusion Amelie is an Extinction Entity, able to create an extinction and end humanity, that she is powerful and her Beach is greater than any other humans. As Sam gets to Edge Knot City, he reveals Amelie’s location to Higgs who supposedly takes her hostage on the Beach. Sam travels East again so Fragile can jump Sam to Amelie’s Beach, but they realize that actually, Amelie tasked Higgs with speeding up the end of the world, and gave him his powers. The creepy doll’s are Amelie’s version of Bridge Babies with ties to her beach and therefore it’s discovered that she also brought Cliff into the fold, again in an attempt to speed up the end of the world. Sam manages to get to Amelie’s beach, and Amelie said that she didn’t feel she had a choice, extinction was inevitable, and she thought she was doing a kindness by making it quick, Sam convinces her humanity is worth it, and convinces Amelie to hold back extinction as long as possible to give humanity a chance to evolve to avoid it. Whilst Sam is awaiting rescue from the beach, Amelie explains her true story. Amelie reveals Bridget is not her mother, but in fact they’re the same person. At 20 years old an operation meant that Amelie’s Ka and Ha were seperated, her Ha - ages and therefore becomes Bridget so people aren’t suspicious. Amelie and her Ka are stuck on the Beach, but can project herself forward. Amelie created the Chiral network as a part of the Bridges 1 Expedition to speed the extinction process up but increasing the amount of Chiralium in the world. Amelie planted the Bridge Babies at the centre of cities and that’s what she needed Cliff’s child for. When Cliff and the infant Sam are shot by Bridget, Amelie finds Sam on her beach, and sends him back to the ‘real’ world and in doing so grants the world with DOOMs and makes Sam a repatriate. Amelie then helps Sam through the nightmares and gifts him a dream catcher, Sam as a child gifts Amelie with a necklace, Quipu, which becomes a tailsman for their connection and helps them find each other on the beach. Amelie is left on the beach, holding back the antimatter back for what could potentially be hundreds of thousands of years.

 Higgs Monaghan - Also known as ‘Peter Englert’ / DOOMs - Lvl 7 / Ex-Porter, Terrorist, Leader of the Homo Demens

Higgs was abused by his father, who he killed and watched become a BT. He worked with Fragile, but betrayed her and became a terrorist, tricking her into sending a nuclear bomb into Middle Knot City. Higgs is a separatist, claiming to be working for the independence of Edge Knot City and wants to stop UCA expansion. Higgs tortures Fragile by sending her into Timefall in her underwear to avoid another city being bombed. Higgs is found to have been given his powers and orders by Amelie, to speed up the extinction. Higgs has the power to summon timefall and BT’s and can control them. Sam chases Higgs to the beach to rescue Amelie when Higgs claims to kidnap her and weakens him, refusing to use weapons to do so. Fragile gives Higgs the choice between being stuck on the beach forever or shooting himself and Higgs chooses to shoot himself. Amelie is presumed to have created the terrorist cells to make the UCA believe building the Chiral Network was the best thing, when in fact that helps to trigger the extinction and also to find an excuse to being using Bridge Babies again. The UCA discontinues BB’s because of ethical grounds, but says that since the terrorists bring the technology back, they must start using them again, when in fact the terrorists are using Amelie’s doll sensors, linked to her beach and drawing their power from there. Higg’s terrorists have no desire for Cargo like MULEs, just to capture Sam and stop him.

[fanaticwritings]

smoke and mirrors- [prologue]

pairing: tom holland x reader

words: 1k

a/n: i am not writing a summary for this because the prologue is a summary of sorts. this is an idea that has been stuck with me since forever, in fact i started writing something like this for another character but tumblr fucked up and nobody really read it. @keepingupwiththeparkers' beautiful writing made me want to start writing again and if you're reading this, i'd like to say thank you. so much. (p.s: you don't have to read this story!) anyway, i promise that this fic is going to be real good. the idea real appeals to me and I'm gonna try my level best to execute it. it's not your normal ceo x reader; it's full of suspense, heart breaks, a LOT of fluff and a bit of smut. so please give this a read and i hope you stick around! thank you xo

//

The steady hum of the engine died as the black sedan came to a screeching halt. The chauffeur got out as you waited in the backseat, straightening the hem of your dress.

A second later, the door to your right opened and you were instantly blinded by a thousand flashes.

Unfazed, you stepped out of the car with effortless elegance that now came to you naturally.

Still blinded but unbothered, you trudged up the stairs to the hall, heels clicking behind you.

"Who are you wearing today, Ms.Y/N?"

"What is the next big thing for Winchester Corp?"

"Are you seeing Mr. Osterfield?"

"Holland & Co. remains to be your biggest competition even today. Thoughts?"

The paparazzi was as merciless and as invasive as ever. They didn't care about you being one of the youngest woman CEO of Manhattan, your personal life seemed to be of a prime importance.

"Winchester Corp has a lot in store for the public, some of which you will be seeing soon," you answered, flashing a radiant smile at the reporter.

You continued to answer other questions about the company for a while, ignoring personal questions all together.

You were thankful when you reached the top of the stairs and walked into the majestic hall, leaving the swarm of cameras behind you.

The interior of the hall was breathtaking. Large, crystal chandeliers hung from the white ceiling. Mosaic paintings of pictures from what looked like Roman Mythology adorned the walls that surrounded you. You recognized some of the stories, fondly remembering how much mythology had intrigued you when you were a child. Further down the hall, round, decorated tables were set up all around a raised platform. The architecture reminded you of a Roman cathedral which, perhaps, this place was.

There were a lot of people in the hall, some you recognized and most you didn't.

The Manhattan Gala was always like this.

Business tycoons, big shots of the city and some other important people you didn't bother remembering the names of, were the small group of people that were invited to the gala.

"Hello, Miss Y/N," a chaperone called to grab your attention and handed you a card with your name as well as the number of the table that was assigned to you.

You met a couple of business associates on the way to your allocated seat and a blond big shot who's name you failed to recall.

Before long you ran into Rachel Allen, chairman of another large scale company in the market. Her name you knew because she was always up in everyone's business and tired everybody easily.

"Hey, Y/N. Gosh, you look amazing! Is that Krutz you're wearing?" she cooed, giving you a smile that didn't exactly match her zestful tone.

Before you could reply, however, she gasped looking behind you, "Oh. Look who it is."

Ignoring her, curious as to who it could possibly be, you glanced over your shoulder, following her gaze to whoever she was looking at.

Even from across the room, his brown eyes were disarming.

*

Tom Holland was gifted with a natural and charming persona.

He was also sweet and gentle, which made him popular with the ladies. The fact that he was the CEO of a multi-million dollar company was only an added bonus. They flocked to him like birds to prey, almost fighting for attention. But little did they know he had eyes for one woman only.

He held Y/N's gaze for a long second, mouth twitching, before turning to the slightly older woman who was currently shaking his hand.

"Remember that you can always reach out to me," she was saying and Tom really hadn't been following so he only nodded, smiling.

Harrison Osterfield, his closest friend, caught up with him just then and Tom sighed in relief. He did enjoy being around people but only the kind who's names he at least remembered.

"If another person asks me about the shit with Winchester Corp, I'm gonna walk out of here," he blurted to Harrison, who

chuckled lightly, patting his shoulder.

"Mate, you wanted that to happen."

Tom shrugged, rolling his eyes.

They sat down at their table, exchanging plesantaries with those who sat with them.

The host of the evening was soon up on the stage, engaging in light-hearted humor. She then moved onto the performances that were lined up for the event and the crowd cheered.

Before they knew it, two hours had passed. The cultural dances and music had been really worth the while and since the charity gala was for such a good cause, Tom didn't complain much.

The crowd broke apart for dinner, later and once again the socialities resumed.

"I'm going to grab some food with Liz," Harrison informed him, gesturing towards the aisle that lead to the dining area.

"You'll be okay?"

"More than," Tom answered.

He grinned when Harrison shot him a knowing look and left to fetch his girlfriend.

He sat then, at his table, observing the crowd around him. People were shaking hands and laughing their hearts out, so much so, that to an outsider it would've looked like a merry affair. But only they themselves knew that it was all, mostly, a facade.

Events like these were more about expanding your networks and showing off your wealth. Little did they care about building real relationships.

Tom quite hated the atmosphere but certain things he could have no control of. Besides, he had even grown used to this, being in the business for so long.

He glanced around once more, only to catch Y/N looking at him again. She held his stare for a moment and then got up, straightening the long, velvet-black dress that she was wearing. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and said something to the woman next to her.

He watched her make her way through the crowd and disappear behind one of the giant pillars in a far corner of the hall.

He looked at his rolex; 10:45 it told him. He waited a heartbeat before stalking off in the same direction as Y/N. As an afterthought he wondered if he should've waited a little longer. He decided that he didn't care.

The brain does as the heart wills.

He took short, cautious steps but it wasn't long before he had turned left into a dark aisle behind one of the pillars and caught up with her.

She was leaning against the railing of a staircase that lead to god knows where, her gown shimmering slightly in the dark.

"You look quite lovely, Miss L/N," he said, approaching her coolly, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

*

You watched him get closer, straightening the cuffs of his black tux. All of his hair was gelled to a side except for a tiny unrelenting curl. You smiled to yourself.

"You don't look too bad yourself, Mr. Holland," you said, biting down on your lip as he drew closer.

There wasn't much distance between you two at all, but Tom took his time. Despite being shrouded in complete darkness you could feel his gaze travel down your figure, leaving you with a feeling of being completely bare.

Bastard.

The next thing you knew, you were being pulled towards him; a sharp tug of your arm resulting in you being thrown against his chest.

You couldn't suppress the soft chuckle that burst out of your lips when he buried his face into the nape of you neck, his hands encircling your waist.

"I missed you, darlin," he murmered, his breath warm on your skin.

"I did too," you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck as he drew back.

You stood pressed together for a while, noses brushing against the other's. The noise from the hall didn't quite reach this area, so all you could hear was Tom breathe deeply and his heart beat against your own.

You'd been doing this for two long years now, whole seven hundred and thirty days of it, but it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

And then Tom was kissing you, full and slow, taking his time to drink you in. He pulled you impossibly close, tiny hills forming on your skin at the touch.

Your lips fell into a routine, nipping and sucking at his own. You remembered how sloppy it had been the very first time. But now all of his being, every inch of his skin was etched into your memory. You couldn't get it wrong if you tried.

You felt him push you against the railing, the wood poking you slightly, as he deepened the kiss. It was a welcome pain. His hands squeezed your waist as one of your own fisted his hair.

"My place tonight?" he murmured against your lips when you had to break apart for air.

"Okay," you answered, slightly out of breath.

Being in a relationship when you were owners of giant companies wasn't easy at all. And the fact that your companies were arch rivals didn't help either.

Your relationship was the most private of affairs. Not a soul, bar a few friends, knew about it. To protect yourselves from being mercilessly prodded and judged, you played along with the rumors of you hating each other's guts. But it also meant that you could never be seen together in public, which made things... difficult.

Perhaps it was a part of the reason why you had made it so far. Perhaps it was because the universe willed it to be so.

Because you both thought, even though neither had admitted it, that you had found your soulmate.

It was the most perfect thing.

Until, it wasn't.

//

Tagging:

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Please leave feedback, I'd be forever grateful!

[prorevenge]

Nepotism: Marked for deletion.

TLDR At the end.

My school had a tradition, and I'm not sure if it's odd or not. But, each year we had kind of a mini-valedictorian award, starting in middle school. I was in the gifted program, so several of us had 4.0's, so the award was given to whoever had the highest overall GPA on the 100 point scale. I have always been very competitive by nature, so I set my sights on winning this award in the 7th grade. However, there was a bit of competition: let's call him Todd. Todd had really good grades as well, with the top spot usually bouncing back and forth between the two of us. It was so close that every single quiz, exam, and homework assignment had the potential to dethrone one of us while lifting the other. I had an average of 98.something, as did he.

Todd had a bit of an edge, however. See, Todd's mom was known for being a bully. She would yell, scream, berate, and openly mock any teacher who dared to give Todd a lower grade than me. But that isn't all: Todd's mom was also a teacher at our school. She would openly defy and berate her own colleagues, should they not provide whatever grade she wanted for Todd. Now, usually the school would avoid giving a child a class with their mother, but sometimes this was unavoidable. Naturally, we ended up in a class with his mother as the teacher.

This was a world history class, one which required several papers, tests, etc. By the end of the year, Todd and I had been neck and neck in this class. But, I noticed something: I consistently outperformed Todd (by several points) on any objective learning assessments (fill in the blank tests, multiple choice, etc.) However, somehow Todd consistently outperformed me on written/subjective learning assessments (papers, essays, etc.) Being a young and ignorant kid, I just assumed he was better at writing. That is, until our final assignment rolled around.

All our tests had been taken, all our quizzes and homework assignments graded, all our papers submitted and graded, the semester was functionally complete. I held a fraction of a point over Todd in the class, which put me overall ahead in the valedictorian race. But, mommy dearest couldn't have that. So, with three days left of the year, she assigned a list minute 2 page paper. Short, and simple. I submitted mine, and received a 95. Fair enough. I found out that Todd got a 100, just enough to put him ahead of me in the class, and in the valedictorian race. I was frustrated, so I asked Todd to see his paper repeatedly, desperate to find ways to improve to better my chances the next year. He refused, again and again. Then I remembered: when his mom handed the papers back to us, she never gave one to Todd. He hadn't done the paper, it was purely an assignment contrived to put him ahead.

Now comes the revenge: our school had just transferred to a paperless gradebook system the year before, so this was the second year on it. The principal was determined to make this cost efficient, so after the first trial year he didn't even bother restocking the teachers with physical grade books. That way, he could add the amount saved from physical books to the total amount that the new paperless system was saving the school.

Now, during this time I also worked. I had a family member who owned a small local ISP, and I would help out at every opportunity. I loved computers, and still do. Now, working with this family member equipped me with much more networking knowledge than other kids my age, and even most adults. I decided that with this power came great responsibility: I was going to right this grievous injustice.

So, I started digging. I got on a school PC and started going through the network. Turns out, the school had wanted to save as much money as possible while going paperless. So, they didn't hire a professional technician, consultant, or anything. One of the dads just volunteered, in exchanged for a reduced tuition charge (private school.) So, this system was just a nightmare. There was no dedicated network for sharing grades, there was no password protection on any files, there were no administrative restrictions on any files, nothing. What he did was just "share" a single directory on the headmaster's computer. That directory held the entire gradebook for each and every class of each and every grade: kindergarten through 12th grade. I thought this was too good to be true, surely there was a back up somewhere. So, I went to the school's port switcher, which was just in an unlocked closet. I checked around, expecting to see a server, or a set of drives set to automatically back up whatever is shared on the network. Nada.

Now, I was in a rage. I had gone to the principal several times, pointing out that Todd's mom was abusing her position, she was bullying teachers to give her kid an edge. Her son would even brag about how he could get away with not doing homework in other classes, because mommy would make sure nothing came of it. But, the principal had failed to act. He had declared that each teacher was sovereign in their classrooms, so long as nothing illegal happened he would not intervene. He was a very unprincipled principal. So, I made a decision: to delete the nepotism. I couldn't just change my grades in her class, she monitored my average like a hawk. So, I went nuclear. I went into that subdirectory, and deleted every single file in it. But, the principal had shared his whole users/desktop directory. So, I emptied the recycling. I completely wiped every trace of grading software on that computer, because the idiot didn't even put a password on the computer. So, from the desktop subdirectory I was able to access everything. This was in the very last couple of days of school. There were no hard copies (gradebooks), there were no backups, there was nothing remaining to even prove that the school year ever occurred.

On the final day of school, we get called into an assembly. The principal is visibly disheveled, shaken, and upset. Not even angry, just broken. He announced that the entire year of grades were totally lost. The school didn't know what to do, because there were no hard copies. They couldn't recover the data, because they cheaped out and didn't purchase a backup system. All they could do was reinstall the software. But, on grading software if there is no grade to input, then what does it default to when showing the grades of the students? A 100%. Every single student in that school got valedictorian of their class that year: 100% all around. Heck, even a few kids got enough of a boost from that final year that they got to graduate on time instead of being held back.

Next year, we had a new principal. I was held slightly suspect since everyone knew of my tech background, but nobody could prove anything. Even the PC's in the computer lab didn't have usernames or passwords, so there was no way to link me to anything. That following year, security cameras and passwords were put in the computer lab.

TLDR: Teacher displayed nepotism to get her son ahead, sacrificing me. I rebel, delete the entire grade system, get everyone 100's. You're welcome seniors of 2006, I hope you all enjoyed a nice little boost to your transcripts.

(source) (story by farmathekarma)

[xcenj]

Critical Reflection

Throughout the last eight weeks, the Fashion Promotion Year 2 class have been given the opportunity to revamp PXL Agency. The class was divided into five groups: Branding, Research and Development, Website and PR, Editorial and Events. For this project, I was a part of the Website and PR Team. As a collective, we decided to divide our team into two separate groups; Website and Social Media, whilst as a whole agreeing on all final outcomes.

My role within Pixel Agency was to help create and design the new Pixel website as well as reach out to influential creative industry players and produce content/story ideas for Instagram. I put myself forward for the website sub-team, as I had never made a website before and was eager to further my knowledge and skill range. The beginning of the project was very daunting, as time was limited despite our huge responsibility. After listening to informative guest speakers week after week, I have learned that confidence and persistence are key in all creative professions. Unfortunately, I regret not taking the opportunity to ask guest speakers more questions and seek further insights. On the flip side, I’m really happy that this module allowed the whole class to work together, as I have made new bonds with class members I didn’t speak to before. Overall, this experience has taught me time management, networking, how to build a portfolio, teamwork skills, and consistency.

Eager and ready to learn I attended a private tutorial with Amy Bruce, in order to understand the basics of Squarespace. During Amy’s private tutorial, I had the pleasure of meeting Cyrus, the web designer for Pixel’s website last year and quickly exchanged contact information in case my team had questions about Squarespace along the way. Before we could start designing the website, I suggested to my team leader Karolina that a new Google Drive for PXL be created. In our drive, we had a clear folder for class members to upload their work. Despite having this folder we constantly had to nag the class to upload their work. As a group, we would use the work to create collages for our social media feed. I imputed to the process by drawing storyboards four at a time of what each page of the website should look like. In order to keep every aspect of the website on brand, a member from branding would oversee the drawing plans and adjust if need be. These drawings provided a clear structure and plan for the team to follow. As a group, we wanted everyone’s headshot to be uniform and continuous. To achieve this we successfully organised a time effective shoot, unfortunately some members of the class were unable to attend and didn’t feature on the website. This is a real shame as we all worked so hard. I took lead on the projects page by picking and uploading the strongest work generated by the whole class to show off Pixel at its best. With the help of others in my group, we were able to link the projects back to the individuals about us page. For part of my own page on PXL, I decided to turn my marketing reports into GIFs in order to show continuity within the design. As Pixel is a communications agency establishing connections between tastemakers, it was crucial for the PXL website to have a blog section. The blog section was available for all class members to feature. I wrote a blog post to inform creatives of the latest exhibitions around London with a brief description of what work and installations were featured.

Throughout the whole process, I am very impressed with how much our group conversated within our WhatsApp group chat. However, at times I felt as if our group had no clear structure. If I could change one thing about the whole process it would be the black background on the website. I was very vocal on the fact that the black background doesn’t bring out the best in everyone’s work and can be too dark, gloomy and contrasting. Another improvement would have been for our the social media sub-team to post more engaging stories with advice on how to better your CV and how to get an internship as we had all just come back from placement. As a group, we discussed taking inspiration from Instagram pages like ‘Find Your Intern’.

Leading up to the event, I noticed that the Social Media sub-team hadn’t invited many followers, influencers or industry moguls. During the week leading up to the event, I took it upon myself to send an invite to as many VIPs as possible. To try and attract the general public, I created a free open event post on Eventbrite for more traction. As a group, we could have improved our PR strategy and branched outside of just Instagram. I did suggest that we take advantage of Ravensbourne’s facility to use Fashion Monitor and email some press offices but received very low morale from my group that they wouldn’t come to our event. That being said some of the PXL invites I sent to Dazed via Instagram did receive positive feedback and a few RSVPs.

At the event, I wanted to be as hands-on as possible. During the first hour, I had learned that the flyers for the event hadn’t been delivered on time and weren’t going to arrive. However, I did not let the terrible news deflate my energy, I grabbed PXL stickers and headed to the streets to get the public through the doors. During my allocated leaflet time, I made my way to Shoreditch in attempts to draw in an artsy crowd, stopping everyone on my way. At the event, I met a lovely lady called Raquel Maillo who explained the importance of not giving up. I now feel better knowing that interning in several different places will eventually pay off. Nonetheless, I’m disappointed in myself as I should of networked with more industry figures.

At the start of this module, I began updating the aesthetics of my Curriculum Vitae and Cover Letter. Both are now sleek and modern, reflecting my style of design. As LinkedIn is such a vital tool to communicate with employers in regards to internships, it must be regularly updated (LinkedIn profile https://www.linkedin.com/in/cameo-johansson-706716151/). I constantly message people with job titles I would like to pursue to question what route they took to get where they are. Throughout this project, I have developed my online profile through the means of a visual blog. I use the blog as a sketchbook to post visuals that influence me. I have noticed an increase in my Tumblr followings and reposts, which inspires me to urge on. Offline I have made myself available to help out at industry events where possible, in particular a GQ styling masterclass workshop. After the masterclass, I networked with creatives such as Angelo Mitakos at London Fashion Week Men’s discussing the possible opportunities of interning. I would love to secure a placement over the summer with a company that will further push me out of my comfort zone.

I am still trying to discover my niche is in the fashion industry. As much as I loved learning how to create a website, I can happily say it’s not a career path I wish to further pursue. I believe that my personality and skill set would work better within a communication role for example Events or Editorial. Therefore if PXL was a real communications agency, I would be happy with a salary of 21k per year as an Events Co-ordinator.

Numerous triumphs left this experience: the Branding team executed a strong identity and dossier from the very beginning, the Research and Development team worked very hard to produce an informative on brand research pack all about Generation Z and X, the Website and PR team created a fabulous aesthetic website and Instagram, the Editorial team created unique campaign imagery for content and promotional banners and lastly the Events team pulled off a venue, a bar and two sponsors (MiiRO icecream and Press Juice London) Overall, I think the class has done a spectacular job, working to include everyone’s different aesthetic can be really challenging. However, in the end, we pulled off an amazing packed industry event with a website launch and clear synergy between all assets in the short space of time.

[emma-nation]

Memory Fragments - KamilahxMC Fanfiction (Chapter 3 - Ending) *Debriefed Sequel*

Summary: Four years after the events of Debriefed. When a tragedy happens, Kamilah must face a second decision that will change her life forever.

Rating: T

Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah, @lulu-the-cat, @ilovekamilahsayeed

Notes:

- English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

- Your likes and reviews are always appreciated.

- Sorry for taking so long, I’m not in a writing mood right now and it took me while to finally feel inspired to finish this chapter.

- Since the first part of this story didn’t have any smut scenes, I decided to keep the pattern with this one. But, if you really want it, I may post an alternate version of this chapter that includes a love scene ;)

New York City - June 14, 2022

Amy had been walking around the city for hours. Everything had changed now she was a vampire. It was like living in a whole new world. With her advanced senses she could experience things in a level she wasn’t capable as mortal. Simple actions, like taking a breath or feeling the water against her skin were now felt intensely.

Tired, she sat on a bench at the Central Park. She wasn’t supposed to feel tired, one of the advantages of being a vampire, but she hadn’t adjusted yet. It was like her body was denying its new condition. Not even large amounts of blood were capable of making her satiated. She was thirsty and exhausted all the time, along with a feeling of emptiness that wouldn’t go away.

No Clan leaders were also capable of branding her, after trying with Adrian and Jax, she sought for Priya’s help. Like the others, her brand faded away seconds after being marked on her skin.

“Well, there’s still Lester and The Baron,” the female vampire lamented. “I’d go for The Baron first.”

Amy shook her head trying to forget her words. What kind of monster was she, if her body only accepted The Baron’s clan brand? Was it anything to do with her personality or her insatiable bloodlust? Did it make any sense at all? A tear was about to run through her cheek, when something caught her eye. A small light shining brighter than anything she had even seen. A firefly.

Amy instantly opened a smile, observing that gracious little creature flying through the air.

“You’re so tiny, fragile, but enchanting. Like a… little firefly.”

Kamilah’s words resounded inside her head again. She let out a deep sigh. It was like the Universe was constantly trying to remind her of her Maker.

In the last few days all she could think about was their argument before the accident.Amy could finally understand Kamilah’s point of view. Years before, all she had to do was wait a few days to confront the female vampire about her feelings. Instead, she ran straight to Adrian’s arms, omitting and ignoring everything that happened between them.

“God, I was so selfish,” Amy though.

For Kamilah, the pain of seeing them together became so unbearable she gave up on everything to move away. Even her company, Ahmanet Financial. The name suddenly triggered a flashback. Amy was able to see herself inside Kamilah’s office, right after graduating college.

“Bold decision, huh? But risky, for someone who has just been hired.” “I-I’m sorry… I…” “Differently from many, I like those qualities.” “Uhh… you do?” “Congratulations, Amy. Welcome to Ahmanet Financial.”

“What?!” Amy stood up from the bench and walked, headed to that luxurious building. The company that used to belong to Kamilah. It was still open for the night shift. At the reception, nobody could inform her if any Amy Parker had worked there, many years ago.

“B-But it must be here… somewhere…” Amy sat down at a couch, heavily frustrated. She needed to remember more. Most of all, she needed proof.

Minutes later, a woman came to meet her. For many years, she worked as Kamilah’s secretary.

“I remember you,” she told. “She not only hired you, but offered you an apartment in Manhattan and took you out for dinner.”

“And then?”

“She didn’t come to work in the following day but… when she returned, she only said you had failed and hired someone new. I’m sorry, this is all I have. You know how Ms. Sayeed can be… private about her life.”

Amy spent the rest of the night re-doing the steps the woman informed her. Nothing could trigger her brain to remember the rest of that memory. What could have gone so wrong, to the point Kamilah debriefed her for a third time? When she arrived at her apartment, Lily and Adrian were waiting for her.

“Amy, finally,” Adrian wrapped his arms around her protectively. “God, we were so worried…”

“I’m fine,” since she was Turned, couldn’t feel the same way about him anymore. She felt some kind of repulsion.

“Where were you?” Lily asked. “Adrian had his entire Clan looking for you.”

“I was searching for answers…” Amy’s eyes flared in anger. “Those flashbacks… They’re real! Did you know I was Kamilah’s assistant for one day, six years ago? I didn’t, because she erased it from my memory!”

Lily looked shocked, then she exchanged a glance with Adrian, who fell on the couch running a hand through his hair.

“Of course. That’s why she was so devastated when we started dating. If only she had told me…”

“What are you talking about? You knew that, Adrian? You also fooled me during all these years?!”

He handed her a book, explaining everything about debriefing. The hypnotic magic only worked for mortals and it was broken at the time of their death. What meant, that as a vampire, she’d regain all the debriefed memories.

In the middle of the book, he placed a ticket to San Francisco.

“Go after her, Amy. She’s the only one who can give you all the answers you want. Also, tell her I’m deeply sorry and that I hope there’s still a way to repair what I did.”

————–

San Francisco, California - June 16, 2022

Since her return, Kamilah was locked inside her apartment. She wouldn’t answer any phone calls or reply any emails. She didn’t want to be interrogated or judged. She wasn’t ready to face the consequences of her actions yet.

She knew Amy had survived and was doing well, apparently. Social Networks could be an useful source of information, Kamilah learned. On Amy’s page, there was a ton of messages and pictures from her friends, thankful for the miracle that saved her life. Amy later wrote a short post, thanking all of them. But what really caught Kamilah’s interest was the “engaged” status disappearing from her information. Anyways, it hadn’t been replaced with “single” yet. She rolled her eyes in frustration, refreshing the page one more time.

“Kami?!” Louise appeared behind her in a stealthy, silent move.

“What are you doing here, Louise?” She jumped out of her chair, quickly closing the tab on her browser. “H-How did you enter my apartment?!“

"You gave me an extra key, when you were out of the country. Remember?”

“Well, give it back. Now!”

After handing her the key, Louise crossed her arms and studied Kamilah’s face for a moment.

“Guilt,” she let out a chuckle, making Kamilah roll her eyes again. “You ruined the wedding, didn’t you?”

“Sort of,” Kamilah grunted. She hated how Louise had the ability of knowing her so well. She wondered if that was a result of their long-time friendship or if she truly had mind-reading skills.

“Let me guess. The sexual tension between you and Amy led to an argument, that eventually turned into angst sex, boosted by the bounding effects.”

“No, it started with a heated argument where Amy told me she never wanted to see me again. Then she went out on the streets insanely mad, what led to her getting hit by a bus and dying. So I had to Turn her.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t give me ‘oh’, Louise. I told you it was going to be a disaster. But not even a cynical like me could’ve predicted these catastrophic proportions.”

Louise remained silent, staring at her blankly.

“I mean… you turned your bound, Kamilah.”

“And?”

“Aren’t you aware of the effects of that?”

Effects. Kamilah had no idea about it so far. She was never able to learn much about bounding. Louise explained that, she not only should be the one to brand Amy, but the girl would need to drink some of her blood to complete her Turning process.

“Also, now your blood is running in her veins, bounding is stronger than ever. It’s like you’ve become one… isn’t it beautiful, Kami?!”

“Louise,” Kamilah sighed. “You know most of it was romanticized during the centuries. There’s no proof of what you’re telling me. Otherwise, Amy would be here right now, not in New York, engaged to Adrian.”

Somebody knocked at the door. Kamilah reluctantly got up and answered. She froze, seeing Amy was standing right at her door. The expression on her face was a confirmation of what she just told Louise. She looked furious.

“Amy,” she tried to appear calm, as the girl stormed inside her apartment. “What are you doing here?”

“First, I came here to beg you for a brand. My body won’t accept anybody else’s because you’re my Maker.”

“Oh no, it’s because she’s your b–” Louise emerged from Kamilah’s office, as soon as she heard what was going on. Kamilah censored her with a snarl. It wasn’t the right moment to tell Amy yet.

“Of course.”

Amy exposed her tight and she warmed up the amulet with a lighter to press it against her skin. After Clan Sayeed’s brand was marked on Amy’s skin, Kamilah pricked her finger, sealing it with her blood. The bounding sensation hit, passing though every inch of Kamilah’s body, at an intensity she never experienced before.

“Will it ever go away?” She heard Amy complaining to herself, confirming she was feeling the same sensations. She couldn't hide a smile.

According to Louise, there was one more thing she was supposed to do. With one of her daggers, she opened a gash in her palm, dripping some blood inside a cup.

“Drink it,” she offered Amy.

“It’s not part of the ritual. Lily never had to drink Adrian’s blood when she was Turned.”

“Each vampire is different, Amy. Without this, you’ll constantly feel weak and worn out. No blood will be able to satisfy your thirsty. Trust me.”

Amy grabbed the cup from her hand in a violent manner. She hesitated before drinking it, staring at the content and then back at Kamilah. Her look was powerful and intimidating.

“Trust you?” Amy let out a sarcastic laugh, then started walking around Kamilah in circles. “For years, you lied and hid your feelings from me, always making me feel guilty for choosing Adrian over you. Well, then I died. And you Turned me without my consent!”

“Oh please, would you rather to be dead? I gave you a new chance of living! To spend the rest of your life with the man you love.”

The girl went silent as she gazed Kamilah deeply in the eyes. Like if she was retrieving information straight from her soul.

“Oh I almost forgot,” the sarcastic tone in her voice wasn’t gone yet. “I believe I have something that belongs to you.”

She handed Kamilah a jacket. A jacket she dressed Amy many years ago in her office, when she was freezing to death. Although she had debriefing lessons from Jameson in the past, she never researched further about the practice. She had no idea about what would happen once the debriefed mortal became a vampire.

“Y-You remember.”

“Why, Kamilah?!” Amy shouted, shaking her head in denial. “Why did you erase my memories of you multiple times? Why do you have to be selfish like this? You only care about yourself!”

Caught by surprise, Kamilah didn’t answer. She couldn’t find words to explain her motivations. Not with Amy being angry as she was. The girl grabbed her arm, then she paralyzed. Her eyes went wide and unresponsive, like if she had been hypnotized.

“Amy?” Kamilah touched her shoulder gently. “What’s going on?”

She took a long moment to respond.

“You took me out for dinner… And after driving me home, we went to the building’s rooftop.”

“That’s right,” Kamilah answered. In the moment she felt so connected to Amy, she could almost relive that memory too.

“Can I ask you one question?” “Well, you’re not the kind that just give up, are you?” “What are you looking for, Kamilah?” “I…”

“Oh, you wanted it as much as I did,” the corners of Amy’s mouth curled up into a smile.

“Out of curiosity, what are we talking about?” Louise whispered to Kamilah.

“Get out of here,” Kamilah ordered, in a low voice.

The protégée walked headed to the front door, signaling Kamilah to call her later for details.

Kamilah turned her attention back to Amy. The smile disappeared from her face, she now looked tense and scared.

“My friends… I didn’t remember them before. Oh my god!” A single tear ran across her cheek. “A feral killed them but… you protected me. Then… you drove me to the bus station and…”

“I debriefed you. You resisted, you were determined to keep your memories this time.”

Amy came back to reality, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. Her hands were shaking cold.

“Are you alright?” Kamilah asked, concerned. “Do you need a glass of water or…”

“No,” Amy grabbed her hand, preventing her from leaving the couch. “It was different this time, you… you left it up to me to decide if I wanted to come back or not. T-This is why I always felt I needed to come back to New York.”

“That was the right thing to do.”

“Kamilah, you didn’t want to do it this time, did you? You only erased my memories to protect me, from what happened to my friends and from… your world.”

“I guess it didn’t work very well in the end, huh? I mean, you returned and had to face it all again. In the end, you also became a vampire. You should’ve stayed away from me, Amy… You made the wrong choice.”

“Wrong? The only wrong choice here was you not telling me all of this before!”

Amy was right. If only she had told her before, maybe she wouldn’t have started dating Adrian. That was the perfect moment to tell her about her true motivations. Bounding.

“T-There’s a reason…” She stood up, ready to reveal the truth. But in a blink of an eye, Amy advanced in her direction, pressing her against the nearest wall and kissing her in a feverish mode. Showing all the desire she had been withholding during the last four years.

“Later,” Amy muttered, before nipping at her lower lip with her recently acquired fangs.

Kamilah placed a hand on her waist, pulling her even closer as their tongues played a dominance game.

“You’re quite strong for a newly Turned,” she commented as they parted.

“You think? Maybe I’ve only caught you off guard.”

“Let’s test it then.”

Using her advanced speed, Kamilah switched positions, pressing Amy against the wall.

“You were right…” she spoke, drawing a trail of kisses from Amy’s ears until her neck.

“Partially,” Amy smiled playfully, before tearing her clothes apart.

Without wasting no more time, Kamilah pushed her on the couch. Amy drew her for more kissing. At this point, stopping felt impossible. They couldn’t keep their mouths and hands off each other.

“Amy… wait…” Kamilah interrupted their making out session. “There’s something you need to know. It’s important.”

“Come on…” Amy complained. “Wasn’t there a fourth time, was it?”

“No, I swear. Have you ever heard about bounding?”

“Yes, Adrian mentioned it once, how much he wanted us to have it. It’s like a soulmate thing, isn’t it?”

“Okay then. You’re my bound, the idea terrified me so much I decided to erase your memories to keep you away from me.”

“Serious?! How can you be so sure?”

“Because of this…” Kamilah’s hand traveled all over her chest, triggering the electric sensation. “And this…” she caressed Amy’s tight, where her brand was imprinted. “Since I Turned you, I’m the only one allowed brand you.”

“Oh… and I suppose that’s the reason why I should do this…” Amy smirked before carefully taking her wrist to her fangs, drinking some blood. Her bite was gentle and delicate, not causing any pain, only pleasure.

“How do you feel now?” Kamilah asked when she finished.

“I feel great… powerful and… I feel like I want you, all of you.”

“Oh, do you?”

Grinning, Kamilah drove her to the bedroom, where they spent the rest of the night enjoying each other’s company. Before falling asleep, Amy murmured:

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” Kamilah tightened the grip around Amy’s waist, as if she was making sure she’d never go away again.

[cattatonically]

Extra Extra! (1)

(Stories are sequential and should be read in chronological order)

Day 1 - Greed/The little things (habits)

Hajime tapped at his phone for a moment. He scrolled between screens, making sure his notes fit the image of the scene he’d captured. Satisfied, he saved his draft, pocketed his phone, and picked up the glass of wine he’d put down on the bar. He couldn’t turn one way or the other without running into someone he knew and exchanging pleasantries. It was a fabulous event, and Hajime was determined to capture all the glitz and glamour - as usual.

Everyone was in their formal best - black ties and stylish gowns fluttering around the room. The charity gala had garnered the attention of socialites, celebrities, and politicians alike, all determined to shed the - unfortunately true - stereotype of greed within such social circles. Hajime had been expecting the invite through Oikawa’s network of connections. Hajime had always expected such invitations through Oikawa’s network.

Running the area’s best blogging network didn’t come easy, but Oikawa had a head for business management and a team of talented and experienced writers. Hajime was one of the network’s favourites - his lifestyle column had amassed a hefty following. Hajime was proud of his work. And the extravagant wardrobe that came with his work was the best bonus he could have ever imagined.

Just as he was about to call it a night, Hajime spotted the man across the bar. He was handsome, in a rugged way, if a little out of place at the gala. His black jeans were ripped, his leather jacket loose around his shoulders, his broad chest encased in a skin-tight white V-neck shirt. If Hajime played his cards right, that chest would be pinning him in an empty bathroom stall within the next ten minutes.

The stranger noticed Hajime checking him out. He gave a confident smile, winked, picked up his drink and sauntered over to Hajime like a cat targetting a mouse. As he approached, Hajime put on his most charming smile - the one that usually brought his dates to their knees. However, it was Hajime who was nearly brought down when the stranger’s low, husky voice reached his ears.

“Maybe next time, stud,” the stranger said, looking Hajime up and down. “I have some business to take care of first. Great pants, though. They’re quite… fitting.” With another wink, the stranger downed his drink, put the glass on the bar, and wriggled through the crowd.

In shock and awe, Hajime watched as the scene unfolded in front of him. The stranger approached the host of the gala, handed him an envelope, whispered something in his ear, and strutted away. The roar of disbelief the man let out upon viewing the contents of the envelope sent a shockwave through the crowd.

The words the host was shouting weren’t making sense. Hajime could barely follow the story as it was being told. But he knew he had to - this was his job, after all, no matter how unbelievable the circumstances may be. He was glad he’d had enough presence of mind to snatch his phone out of his pocket and snap photos of both the scene and the stranger as he frantically typed out notes.

The next day proved to be just as confounding. He sat at his desk, facing Oikawa, barely able to put into words the events that had transpired. It took hours, but he finally managed. He titled the document, saved the draft, and hovered his mouse over the submission button. He sighed and contemplated the pros and cons of publishing the article.

“How can one person inflict so much chaos?” Hajime asked. He put his head down on his desk, squishing his cheek against the surface. He’d have to clean it later or face Matsukawa’s wrath. Oikawa’s voice broke Hajime out of his not-so-quiet contemplation.

“The stranger you texted me about? The hot one who looked like a broke stoner college student?”

“Yeah, that one.” Oikawa hummed in response. Hajime sighed again.

“Stop that. You keep sighing, you’ll never get the hot guy to have his filthy, filthy way with you.”

“He’s the reason for all of this!” Hajime snapped his head up and shoved his phone in Oikawa’s face. It was a blown-up shot of the stranger’s retreat after his not-so-nice chat with the event’s host.

“He’s your hot stranger? Oh, Iwa-chan. Honey, darling, sweetie. You’re fucked. That’s Sawamura Daichi. He’s a private investigator, though heaven only knows how he gets the clients he does when he dresses like that. He’s like a dog with a bone when he has a case.” Hajime blinked a few times, processing this new information.

“And?” he asked snippily. “What does Sawamura have to do with me now?”

“If he took a liking to you - and your pants - like you said he did, he’s about to make your life a whole lot more interesting.” Oikawa threw the phone back at Hajime with a glint in his eye that made him extremely wary.

If Oikawa was right, Hajime’s days of habitual glitz, glamour, and wine and dining were about to be shattered into a million tiny pieces. Hajime clicked ‘submit post’.

“Hajime’s Lifestyle Corner - Today’s headline - Secret Discovery! Philanthropist Uncovers Philandering at Charity Event! Wife of Ten Years Already Married to German Billionaire!”