#we are all mafalda

[mafaldaknows]

you can’t blame us who joined the fandom late. we weren’t around at the beginning but you all who were told us and so surely that charmie really happened and it’s true up to now. you all had your access to armie’s friends and timmy’s will friend and jps and hint and wink at us. so we’re gonna follow bnf like you.

Hello, Anon:

I’m not sure where you got the idea that anyone is blaming you for anything.

Also, I’ve maintained that I don’t know anything for a fact regarding Charmie and do not presume that it’s true because they themselves have never confirmed it, nor do they owe us confirmation. It’s their story to tell, if they ever want to tell it. Love is love is love and comes in many forms, not just romantic love, and it’s not my place to tell anyone else’s truth. The main focus of this blog is to explore the strong connection between them, however they chose to define it, and to find signs that their close bond still exists.

I’m a seeker of truth and beauty. That’s all. I never claimed to be anything more than that, here in my little corner of the internet, as a fan, just like you, just like all the other fans in the Charmiesphere. I’m grateful that my mutuals allow me the grace and the space to stand with them on the deck of this beautiful ship despite sometimes marching to the beat of my own drum.

The premise of this blog is to look for signs of Charmie. But I never claimed to confirm it. That confirmation can only ever come from them to be valid. We are still merely spectators and speculators, like Mafalda, who always looks for signs.

Many of the signs over the years have pointed towards a specific direction, but reality points us now in another one entirely, and this time, it’s straight from the source.

In light of these recent events, we might be compelled to change course, and that’s ok. Or we might accept the circumstances and adapt. And that’s ok, too, Anon.

As far as reading the signs, generally speaking, I don’t view them as cold, hard facts but as possibilities, moments of kismet or serendipity. It’s what I mean when I say that the Universe winks. We would still need the two people involved to confirm their truth for the signs to have any real meaning. That’s how I see it, anyway.

I started this blog during the pandemic lockdown as a fun way to pass the time and then fell down the CMBYN rabbit hole, which led to an even deeper Charmie rabbit hole, which turned out to be a big, beautiful bottomless pit. It has never been my intention to mislead anyone in this space nor have I ever dictated to anyone what they should or shouldn’t believe about Charmie. These are just my own thoughts and observations about this beautiful ship, one that I recognize as a fantasy, but that also once had the very real possibility of coming true.

Once upon a time. Perhaps someday in the future. Or maybe never. Your guess is as good as mine at this point, Anon.

I write mainly about the possibilities of Charmie, not absolute facts, unless I have evidence to support those facts. When Armie was faced with false allegations, I shifted my focus to his defense. Time and evidence have proven that it was the right thing to do. Truth and Justice always win.

Love does too, when all is said and done.

That much I know is true.

Thanks for your comment. ❤️🧿

[peonyblossom]

i really enjoyed CoP 1 but CoP 2 is just so much more boring??? i can't even really explain why it's just not as fun

[sheeple]

Miracles don't exist | 34: Stay and leave

Genre(s): Riddle!reader / Slytherin!reader / kinda slowburn / little happy moments Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Theodore Nott x Reader / Harry Potter x Riddle!reader Summary: Being the Dark Lord's daughter and raised under the strict supervision of the Malfoy's is no easy life. Especially if you start crushing on your father's arch-nemesis, Harry Potter. And that while being engaged to one of his follower’s sons. Warning(s): None really [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Playlist]

You wouldn't have thought that shadowing Dolores Umbridge was the worst part of the Voldemort takeover. But surprisingly, it is. The woman takes a true delight in bringing dread and sorrow to other people. 

You're not even listening to the hag questioning the poor Muggle-born witches and wizards. Instead, you write letters with no intention to send them. They're mostly to Sirius. You miss the man. The safety and comfort he provided is a far-away concept in the middle of the war.

Sirius,  How are you? Are you safe? Is the Order still fighting the fight? I wish I could join. But I am under close observation at the Manor. The Dark Lord has great expectations for me and I am scared what will happen if I don't follow them to a T.  I am married now. For a while actually. To Theodore Nott. It's the same boy who was at the hospital. Despite it being a forced marriage, I am happy it's him. He takes good care of me, so don't worry. We keep each other safe in the eye of the war.  How are Harry, Hermione and Ron? Are they safe? The last thing I've heard was that they are on the run for the Ministry. Do you know what they are doing? Maybe I can find some things out for them to help them?

You look up from the letter and your frustration with the words on the page only grows when you look at the pink hag. There is a constant high-pitched ringing that follows Umbridge wherever she goes. And it seems like only you can hear it. It brings you to the brink of insanity and your hands itch to grab your wand and silence the witch and the ringing once and for all.

A chill rolls over your back while your head twitches. The thoughts scare you. And they have been getting a lot worse ever since you have been ordered to shadow the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. You glance up at the ceiling, where a pack of dementors hoover above the Patronus barrier Umbridge created. 

Mafalda Hopkirk has been giving you skittish looks the whole time and every time you give her a small but awkward smile when you catch her eyes. She then quickly looks away, her eyes wide as saucers. Shaking your head, you crumple up the letter to Sirius and put it in the pocket of your jacket. 

The high-pitched ringing around Dolores picks up when she speaks. "Marry Elisabeth Cattermole. Of 27 Chislehurst Gardens, Great Tolling, Evesham?"

"Yes", whispers Mrs Cattermole scared.

"Mother to Masie, Ellie, and Alfred? Wife to Reginald?"

Mrs Cattermole turns her head. Her husband gets dragged in by Albert Runcorn, the former having a skittish look on his face. Mafalda tenses in her seat at the arrival of the two men and you raise your brows. Interesting.

Mr Cattermole goes to stand next to the chair his wife is seated on while Runcorn stands in the doorway.

Umbridge continues after thanking Runcorn, "Marry Elisabeth Cattermole? A wand has been taken for you upon your arrival at the Ministry, Mrs Cattermole. Is this that wand?" She holds up the wand.

Runcorn starts to circle Mrs Cattermole as she answers the crude questions the hag throws at her, her voice getting thick with desperation.

As Umbridge accuses Mrs Cattermole of lying, Runcorn's face hardens with hatred. It piques your interest as the man always has seen impartiality of the many claims Dolores makes. You sit up straight, no longer leaning with your head on your hand.

As the poor woman begs her husband to defend her, the ringing intensifies. It's almost unbearable. Your head snaps towards Umbridge, seeing that Runcorn has snuck upon her, his wand in his hand.

Suddenly, Runcorn's face starts to bubble and deform. A nightmarish sight as his face morphs. "You're lying, Dolores. And one mustn't tell lies." 

Runcorn- no Harry! Harry fires stupify at Umbridge, who slumps in her seat. As Mafalda reaches out and janks something from her neck, Mr. Cattermole hits Yaxley with a spell, which makes him fall off his seat.

You have no clue why the two strangers help Harry, but you're quick on your feet, running after them as they bolt out of the interrogation room with Mrs. Cattermole. 

The dementors swoop after you as the Patronus charm disappears with Umbridge rendered unconscious. Just before you jump after them in the elevator you send your hippogriff down the hall, which fends off the dementors.

The elevator speeds off and you're met with two pairs of wands in your face. You hold up your hands in surrender as you try to catch your breath. "Please", you pant, "I'm on your side. We have to escape the Ministry as soon as possible as it is likely that the fireplaces will be shut off at any moment. But we have to pretend. Please..."

Mr Cattermole takes a step towards you, his wife still tightly clutching his arm. "And why should we believe you?" Now that you hear his voice you recognise him. It's Ron. So that means that Mafalda is... the Poli-juice has run out of her system and Hermione looks at you, an unreadable expression on her face. But she gives Ron and Harry a look that tells them to trust you.

The doors of the elevator open and you all bolt out. You decided to run behind them so it looks like you're chasing them. As the police storm your group, spells fly around your ears. You can hardly dodge them.

"They're mine!", you growl at Yaxley as you pass him, throwing spells yourself that you misfire on purpose. 

With Yaxley hot on your heels, you fire Depulso at the man so he crashes into the opposite wall, before diving after the Golden Trio into the last open fireplace.

You twist and turn, your body contorting uncomfortably until you roll onto the ground, dirt and try leaves in your mouth. You cough and wheeze as you try and scramble upon your feet.

Your wand flies out of your hand and a hot glowing tip gets pushed into your face. You up scared at Harry as he holds you at wand point. But painful wailing catches your attention and you look to the side.

Ron lies squirming on the ground, the flesh of his arm removed in graceful twists. Blood coats Hermione's hands as she tries to comfort the wailing redhead.

She yells to Harry for him to grab the bottle of Dittany from her bag. As he searches haphazardly, you reach for your wand before crawling towards them. "I know a spell. Please, let me help."

Hermione nods, tears and panic paint her face. Closing your eyes, you begin to recount the sing-like incantation of Vulnera Sanentur, the same spell Snape used on you after your incident in the toilets a couple months back.

Ron's twitching slowly eases as his wounds gradually close. Hermione pets Ron's head while she watches you work. Her bloodied hands leave red streaks on his forehead.

You sit back on your heels, watching your spell work. Your eyes travel from Hermione and Ron towards Harry, who stands off to the side with something in his hand. A necklace or some sort.

"Why- what were you thinking?! Do you realise how incredibly dangerous the Ministry is right now for you lot?!" You raise from your feet, dusting off your knees. You run frustrated a hand over your face. "Was it at least worth it?"

Hermione and Harry share a look with each other, the former giving Harry a sympathetic look. Harry sighs and holds up his hand, showing you what Hermione snatched from Umbridge. A locket.

You reach for it and when you touch it, a weird feeling goes through you and your head twitches violently to the side. And so does Harry's. 

"Wha-what is it?"

Harry still looks hesitant. "A Horcrux."

Raising your eyebrows, you look at Harry, silently asking him to explain.

The bespectacled boy sighs. "You-Know-Who has split his soul into seven pieces in order to be immortal and put them in objects. And to defeat him, all those objects need to be destroyed."

Your eyes flicker towards the locket. "So... You're telling me that a part of the Dark Lord's soul is in that locket?"

Harry nods and you sigh heavily. "How many did you destroy already?"

"Dumbledore managed to destroy two, but other than this one we have no clue what those objects are."

Chewing on your bottom lip you frown, thinking deeply. "I imagine that the Dark Lord keeps those objects close to him or in a secured place. I mean... I wouldn't be surprised if Nagini is a Horcrux. She's everywhere he goes. Except for a couple of times, she's with me when it is not safe for her to join him."

While you and Harry discuss the locket, Hermione has set up a tent and is placing protective charms around the encampment. Her voice makes you turn towards her.

"I have to go. If I stay any longer people will be suspicious."

"You-you can stay", blurts Harry out, his eyes wide. "With us... if you want. Or we can bring you to Sirius, where you are under the protection of the Order." He takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out. But you flinch away from him, not having forgotten the pain his curse caused.

You shake your head, playing with the ring on your finger. "You know I can't Harry. I'm so afraid of what they'll do to him if I don't return. Once they discover I betrayed them, they will kill Teddy to make an example. I am sure of it." Your bottom lip wobbles at the thought of those warm, brown eyes staring up at you blankly. Just like Mrs Burbage's.

"You're married?" Hermione has finished the protective enchantments and grabs your hand, examining the ring. "It's beautiful..." Her eyes catch the faded outline of the bracelet around your wrist and frowns. She looks at you with silent questions in her eyes.

You snatch your hand away, tugging it behind your back. "Ancient wizarding traditions", you say, hoping it explains enough. 

You turn around to walk out of the protective barrier, but just before you stop. Turning around, you say, "you have to hit me with a spell. Preferably in my face."

"I'll do it", quips Ron, who you honestly to Merlin kind of forgot that he was there. Hermione shoots him a look.

"Yaxley saw me leave with you. I can't come back and claim to have battled you without any proof. I'm not saying you have to break my nose. But just a few cuts here and there."

After some convincing Hermione reluctantly agrees to do it, as she is arguably the most skilled out of all of them. She stands a few metres away from you, wand at the ready. 

"Just... don't scar my face again, please", you say before closing your eyes. 

You hear Hermione take a sharp breath in before wordlessly firing a spell your way. It hits you square in your face and sends you flying back a few metres. A pained groan escapes you as Hermione hurries towards you, helping you to your feet.

"How do I look?", you ask weakly, half a smile on your face. You feel blood run out of your nose and staining your lips while your forehead stings. "Thanks for not going easy on me."

Hermione engulfs you in a tight hug. "Please be careful."

You hug her for what could be the last time for a very long time before stepping outside of the boundary. The encampment is gone when you turn around. Taking a deep breath you dissipate back to the Manor.

You land safely back in your and Theo's bedroom. Expect it's a total mess. Every door, drawer, and cabinet is wide open, and clothes and papers are strewn about. Everything is turned over like it was searched for something. And then you see it. The box you stored all your letters to Sirius is pulled from its hiding place under your bed and empty, every letter taken away.

Shit! SHIT!

The door flies open and you raise your wand. Theo stands in the door opening, eyes wide and hair dishevelled like he has been running his hand through it. 

The two of you stare at each other before it finally clicks in your mind. You wildly search the pockets of your coat for the letter you wrote today. But it's gone.

Within two strides, Theo's next to you and grabbing your face, wiping the blood away. "What happened? They are turning the house inside out in search of you. Why are you covered in blood?"

"You have to leave", you say, turning around and grabbing the first bag you find and stuffing it with clothes for him. But he grabs your arm which effectively stops you. You look at him guiltily, casting your eyes to the ground. 

"I'm not leaving without you."

You shake your head. "Listen to me, Teddy, please. They will kill you if you don't leave. Please." As you beg, you grab his hand and push the bag into his hold. "Quickly, before they find me."

You hear footsteps down the hall. Panic floods your system and you look around the room. you spot one of the first letters you wrote for Sirius and take it, pressing it in his hand. "Go to 12 Grimmauld Place and show them this letter."

"I'm not leaving without you. We're married, (Y/n). We're supposed to do this together."

Shaking your head, you hear the people near your room. "Now, Theodore", you growl, your breath picking up. 

Just before the Death Eaters storm your room you hear the distinct sound of disapparition and Theo is gone.

The door gets thrown open and a handful of Death Eaters pour into your room. "Get her!", one says before they pound upon you.

Taglist: (bold means I couldn’t tag you): @the0doreslover @lqndkxlmqma @st4rrry  @choppedpartymuffinwinner @ledtassoo @literallyobessed @lestat-whore​ @vanishingcherry @harrysnovia @pietrobae @ireallywannasleep127 @yeolsbubbles @fruityfrog505 @fluffybunnyu @theroyalmanatee @shinrjj @hegdus @kermits-bitch @m1kasawps @noah-uhhh-what @mypolicemanharryyy @fals3-g0d @decapitated-coffee @thatgirljas13 @slytherinambitious @raineisms @mastermindmiko @timmytime17 @regsg18 @supernatural-lover @bubybubsters @lafrone @hermionelove @the-sander-fander @akengii @aliciacat20 @unstablereader @burns-in-the-sun @rachelnicolee @damagelove @mqndrqke @llpovi @clairesjointshurt @222244445555 @jolly4holly @padf00ts-l0ver @fandom-life-12 @prettyb1tchsblog @pari-1 @f14ever @nopedefe @randomgurl2326

[jerzwriter]

Thank you, Nonny, for this three-word ask. As someone who grew up in New York City and cities in New Jersey, the moment I saw your Trystan x Carolina prompt, I knew exactly what I wanted to do! I hope you enjoy this!

Book: Crimes of Passion Pairing: Trystan Thorne (M) x Carolina Rose (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 602, plus 2 text messages Summary: There's a blackout in New York City, and Trystan runs into some issues attempting to get home to Carolina.

A/N: This was just what I was looking for when I asked for 3 word asks! Just some light fun! Thanks so much for this, Nonny! Participating in @julychallenge Pink: Playfulness, Love, Fun Black: Seduction, Attraction,

Carolina lay atop her bed in her darkened room, with sweat dripping down her neck. It was only four PM, but the shades were drawn to keep the sun out as much as she could. She did her best to remain motionless—anything to help with the brutal heat. Heatwaves were never fun, but in New York City during a power outage? They were hell. She had been in the office when the lights flickered out, and Mafalda picked up her phone.

“Yep! Con Ed confirmed it, it's a blackout!”

“Ah, fuck,” Carolina groaned, tossing her pen across the desk. “Just what we need!”

“Yeah, well, with the heat as bad as it’s been, it was bound to happen sooner or later. At least it's still light out. Why don’t you head home? We can’t do anything here, and I’d prefer you were off the streets before dark.”

Carolina quickly took her up on the offer; she knew the chaos backouts could bring to the city and would be happy to avoid it. She text Trystan to fill him in.

Nearly an hour had passed, and despite her discomfort, she couldn't wait for Trystan to arrive. Suffering in this heat was not fun, but somehow, suffering together didn’t seem as bad.

A commotion on the street below caught her attention, and she jumped out of bed to see what was taking place. She peered out the window to find children laughing and running around a fire hydrant they had opened, spraying water everywhere. She smiled as she remembered the summers from childhood that she spent the same way. Her father would open the hydrant and then tell the children:

¡No les digas a los bomberos que un policía hizo esto! (Don't tell the firefighters a cop did this!)

Her phone beeped again, pulling her from her memories.

Carolina couldn’t help but laugh,  imagining Trystan impeccably dressed, now drenched from head to toe. When he knocked at her door, she rushed over to let him in. There he stood, water dripping from his normally well-coiffed hair, his designer clothes clinging to his frame. Carolina bit her lip to stifle a giggle, but when Trystan broke out laughing, she happily joined in.

“Well, this isn't quite how I envisioned my arrival,” he said, stepping inside.

Carolina shook her head, a grin spreading across her face. “You look ridiculous.”

He took her hands, pulling her close to him despite his dampened state.

“Ridiculous or not, I’m here. And so glad to be with you.”

She leaned into him, relishing the coolness of his wet clothes against her burning skin.

“I missed you too.”

Trystan looked around the darkened room. “So, back to our original discussion... what can we do without power?"

“I have a few ideas," she winked. "But first, let’s get you out of those clothes.”

“Wonderful!” He smiled, batting his eyelashes. “It sounds like we have the same idea!”

“No air conditioning, remember!”

“Lina,” he begged, gently trailing his tongue over her lips. “You’re not going to let a little thing like that get in our way, are you?”

“Of course not,” she smirked, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom. “That’s why God created showers!”

“Shower sex!” He exclaimed. “I like it! Can we have another power outage tomorrow?”

Carolina pushed his back against the tile wall, her lips overtaking his as she turned the water on them – clothes on and all.

“That can be arranged,” she cooed.

For the remainder of the afternoon, the heat outside was nothing compared to the heat in Carolina's apartment.

@choicesficwriterscreations

Tagging others separately.

[choicesficwriterscreations]

January MC of the Month: Nora Rose

Please welcome January 2024's MC of the Month! Each month, we highlight one MC or OC on our Meet My MC / OC List. They are selected randomly on the Wheel of Names, and eligibility requirements can be found here. We accept MC / OC profiles on an ongoing basis. Please feel free to send yours in!

This month’s MC of the month is…

@inlocusmads's Nora Rose

More below...

In your own words, tell us what you like most about your MC / OC.

The thing I like the best about Nora is how she has a killswitch alternative to any plan she comes up with. Even if it is something as simple as coming up with dinner options. She has this interesting perceptive ability that's akin to playing 4D chess, but at the same time, she has elevator music running in her head.

At the same time, she's sometimes terribly wrong and isn't afraid to acknowledge that. The things she's able to do today - from keeping a level head and a calm composure in the hardest of situations come from her childhood where things were hard, and she had to grow up quite quickly. A lot of times, she'd have to think on her feet, run through options, remember new stuff, and be able to work with her constraints, not just pertinent to her job but in her adulthood as a whole. Her capacity to be able to stand up on her own feet came from so many instances where she couldn't even get off the floor or look straight ahead. 

Nora's also a slow learner but an avid one nonetheless. She was kicked out of so many schools when she was young, mostly because of her not being able to focus properly or standing up to her bullies (something the school calls ‘stirring trouble up’), and it kind of stunted the faith she had in herself. She had to build up an open mind to be able to differentiate between what is good and bad for her. She had to learn how to carve out her own path, despite dealing with so much grief she could never move on from. All of these things stuck to her when she grew up, which made her more aware and sponge-like to gather the mental ammunition needed to face all kinds of problems. 

Nora's far from what she pictured herself to be as a kid, but she's kind of bittersweet about making it this far. Optimistic that if she just doesn't think too much about stuff, the space and time around her would heal even the bloodiest of wounds, but also disappointed she can't deal with things more openly and faster, like in a brawling match. But I'm happy for her, given the circumstances she was in. Nora's always had this ability to chew her way out of things - by hook or by crook. If she can't decode a lock, she'd just give it a slight nudge. If the nudge doesn't work, she'll just straight-up shoot at it and deal with the fallout later. Her main motto is to “just keep going”. 

Do you feel your MC / OC is like you at all? How are you alike or different?

I'd say I took a lot from my experiences growing up and gave them to Nora - dealing with people at school, understanding where she truly “belongs” (before she realized that was a load of bull and she should just stop tunnel-visioning a perfect outcome and instead think about laying down a different road to her path). Nora and I share this trait where we can't sit still, but if something's up, we'd spend hours at the same place, even if it involves doing absolutely nothing. Plus, it takes both of us ages to respond to a message. Nora more than me, for sure, and half the time, she's just bored of the routine email chore (not a good sign in her line of work, but she manages.)

That's where the similarities stop haha.

She's a tough person. She throws a good punch, having undergone a lot of physical training to qualify for her NYPD officer job and more recently, for her private eye job (Mafalda had some strict requirements). She's also a great problem-solver as aforementioned. Besides the usual differences in physicality and all, she doesn't get startled easily - as in, the world could possibly end tomorrow and she'd still be at her desk, responding to a two-year old email. Her self-assurance at that instant (not anytime or anywhere else) but at that very instant is so strong, it is honestly remarkable. 

Nora also enjoys doing things on her own. Whether it be making dinner from scratch, down to the bread-baking, deducing information (without relying on scraping the bowels of the internet) or stitching her clothes if they don't fit her. It was one of the only lessons her mother taught her before she passed. Which is also the reason why she doesn't like frozen food. More on that later. 

What is most important to your MC / OC? What is their motivation in life?

Vengeance. 

Just kidding. 

It is actually vengeance. I don't know how else to put it. 

Nora's been wronged by a lot of people in her life. From losing her mother because the hospital in charge neglected her to losing her father also because her co-workers neglected him, she went through pretty much the same neglect-arc in school and college. She was always dismissed as a “traumatized kid” half the time and the other half the time, people didn't listen to her when she'd say, for example, report a bully for what they did or critique a faculty member for showing their bias. It resulted in a lot of things that went wrong in her life - from not having a good support system to being an actual orphan when she was barely thirteen. 

This kind of manifested in horrible ways when she was a kid. She suffered from a lot of anger issues and would immediately resort to physical violence if she were confronted. It isn't fair to blame her either, because she was so helpless. She'd wanted someone, just anyone to listen to her - to be there for her. This desire to help her child-self developed well into adulthood. Nora began building back the stability she never had. She's still doing it. She allows herself optimism even when she doesn't believe in anything. She puts her faith in the arbitrary workings of the universe so there's less burden to carry on her shoulders. Even though the things she tells herself aren't all perfect, they would be something her younger self would have appreciated so much. 

Taking revenge for the child in her to rest easy, for the teenage girl in her to find joys in stupid things such as trashy television shows and emo music and for her to be at peace in her own skin without wanting to explode every five minutes has always been her plan ever since she grew up. That and simply because she uses it to feel more proud of what she does. When something isn't getting anywhere, she's like “Yeah well, f it, we'll get it done. A setback ain't shit.” It was always about the “we”. 

Nora is also driven by the motivation to finish something as fast as possible. Everything is like cross-country running to her because she relishes in the satisfaction of getting a chunk of time just to herself right after getting something done. Which means she's either very good at jumping through hoops or crashes and burns. If something takes longer than her intended expectations, she'll drop it in an instant or table it until she gets her motivation back to finish it. It resulted in a lot of half-completed, archived projects but a few she's proud of, including having made her own quilts and bedsheets for the winter. 

This mentality is something she can never get rid of. At school, she was either the best player on her soccer team or the absolute worst. (Hey, at least there's no in-between to her.)

What are their biggest pet peeves/dislikes?

She hates frozen food with a burning passion. Being from a Chinese household, her parents, in the few good years they had with her - taught her the importance of a home-cooked meal or just any cooked meal. Nora, being the impressionable naive child she was, caught onto it and developed this visceral hatred for frozen anything. While she digs the convenience, she isn't a fan of how it tastes either - apart from her family values. This seeps into how Nora sees everything. She's the weird survivalist aunt with a shotgun in her closet because her personal goal is to make everything she consumes. From food, down to the clothes she wears or the curtains in her window, everything has to have had her work and hours put into it. 

Nora is also not a fan of people who don't listen first and just yap, yap and yap. This is why she often got into “creative differences” with her co-workers in her precinct. This is also the reason why Mafalda gives Nora full control of the wheel when she isn't there at the Agency, because the fewer people yapping, the happier Nora is and the better she works. 

As for visceral dislikes, boy oh boy does she have a lot:

Starting strong with the NYPD because they suck, point blank, period. She also thinks there's a special place in hell for people who just assume a lot and can get away with baseless accusations. She can understand broken promises - after all, people move on sometimes, and it's hard to keep track of them, but she draws the line at a proper betrayal. Words don't matter much to her, but actions do. Nora also isn't a fan of people who jump to the easiest conclusion just because it's easy. She’s seen a lot in her life not to automatically red-flag them. It’s worse when it comes from authorities, y’know people you’re taught to trust.

Also, people who gate-keep their expertise. She’s come across so many pretentious people who’d rather let an important investigation hit a dead end than worry about spilling their “trade secrets.” Kind of a niche dislike, but if you’re running out of time and your only hope banks on a mystery novelist’s ability to describe what he saw and tell the truth like his characters would have done, you too would be frustrated if he’d rather drink his coffee when he knows he’s purposefully jeopardizing the investigation’s momentum. And that’s just one of her ‘good’ experiences. Nora loathes academia and wouldn’t touch it even with a six-foot pole.

If your MC / OC could change one thing - anything - what would it be?

Be blessed with a readable medical textbook so she could diagnose her mother earlier than her doctors ever can (and) get magical surgery skills to revive her dad after he got stabbed. 

She still regrets not being able to do anything because she was “just a kid”.Nora has learned to cope with it, knowing she can't do anything about it but she still has this itching feeling of what if things had turned out for the better. It's this heavy rock she's gonna have to deal with for sometime now. 

Nora has this tricky relationship with her heritage. She isn't a fan of how different she is compared to the rest of her family and how they'd ostracized her after her settling down far from home. She wants to be able to change that aspect but knows it is too late to repair the damage. If she could go back in time and “pick a side,” she wouldn't have to feel the FOMO.

This regret of hers, however, is attributed to her never feeling she belonged somewhere among her family. Someday, she'd have to find her own family, own circle of friends, and culture to build. Someday, she'll learn that she's as valid to celebrate her heritage as her Aunt Mei or Uncle Tommy. That there aren't true extremes to anything there's no “one way” to be something, but until then, she's going to angrily sew back some loose stitches and groan about not being able to speak Cantonese as fluently as her relatives or being a “true” New Yorker. 

Also maybe her hair. (Also it is so hard to draw her hair consistently.) Sometimes it gets in the way. And maybe fix her eyesight without needing contacts or glasses. Automatically give herself 20/20 vision whenever needed and blur her eyes out when she doesn't want to.

What is your MC / OC’s favorite quote or song?

It's hard to pick one song, because Nora listens to anything and doesn't really have a music ‘taste’ as long as the song she's listening to has some spunk to it. Something she relates to would be I Talk To The Wind by King Crimson. Combined with the slow pace and the lyrics that basically put her life as a picture, it's a bop.

Is there anything else you’d like to share about your MC / OC?  (It can be why you created them, how they’ve inspired you, or you could write a little blurb as if it is coming from your OC - an acceptance speech. :) )

I've struggled a lot with naming characters before but Nora's was the only time I knew her name wayyy before I could give her a personality. I was like “yep she's Nora, she's definitely one, yep.” and somehow I didn't anticipate how much she'd like, write herself and the story just writing itself. It literally popped into my head as outlandish as it may seem. And somehow that process worked because I don't ever run out of new headcanons to add.

Nora's also the first character I've created a 100k-worded introduction for (which will never see the light of day and is chucked into my files). I honestly expected her to just be fleeting. I'd make up something about her character, and I'd leave it at that, but nope. 

She's the most organized person in the universe. Her clothes never had a chance to get folded since 1999. She is so methodic and yet will pull off stupid shit like kickboxing a door because she doesn't want to open it. Nora is the character to every character but she stops charactering if she's in front of any screen with something playing on it. She can calculate the angle she needs to throw something so it can hit something, but she fails at basic math at the checkout line. She's masterful at cooking up a storm in the kitchen but enters her flop era when she forgets to take her stuff from the oven when the timer beeps.

Honestly, Nora was such a good lesson in writing as well because people are not always black-and-white. Sometimes, their strengths are their weaknesses. Sometimes the things they are chasing after work against their benefit. Maybe their opinions are skewed after all, even though the narrative conditions into believing that they're the Hero character. They should be allowed to be terribly piss-pathetic poor at something before learning to solve the problem, and sometimes it's okay if they're just bad at something if they can improv a way forward.

Plus, she's cool and stuff. Sometimes. 

[hprarepairfest]

Post Fest Round-Up

The fourth edition of the rare pair fest has come to an end! And with 81 submissions, it's safe to say it's been a wild success!!

With so many fics, it's a bit much to do a masterpost so we've summed up the highlights below!

Pairings:

This year, the fest featured 66 different pairings, the most popular being: 🍐 Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson in first with 5 fics, 🍐 Harry Potter/George Weasley in second with 4 fics, 🍐 Bellatrix Black Lestrange/Rodolphus Lestrange in third with 3 fics!

Those 66 pairings featured 68 different characters, with the most popular being: 🍐 Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy tied for first with 10 fics each, 🍐 Pansy Parkinson in second with 9 fics, 🍐 Neville Longbottom, Regulus Black, and Remus Lupin tied for third with 8 fics each!

Also, this year we had several tag-launching fics! 💞 fire burn and cauldron bubble launched the Merope Gaunt/Romilda Vane tag 💞 Forever in Your Debt launched the Mary Cattermole/Ron Weasley tag 💞 Heliotrope launched the Mafalda Hopkirk/Fabian Prewett tag 💞 Let Me Help You, Mr. Lupin launched the Lyall Lupin/James Potter tag 💞 A Purrrfect Evening launched the Blaise Zabini/Dolores Umbridge tag

Art:

This year, the rare pair fest featured 2 art submissions! 🎨 At the Library of Delphi 🎨 We got a lot of bridges to burn, tables to turn

Fic:

The remaining 79 submissions were fics with the following highlights ⌨ Most prolific author: PhantomGrimalkin with 4 works ⌨ Longest fic: God/Monster at 34,654 words ⌨ Most popular tag: Fluff with 13 fics ⌨ Most common rating: Explicit with 31 fics

And finally!

We want to give a big thank you to every one who participated in this year's fest. Whether you prompted, claimed, beta-ed, left kudos, commented, or shared the submissions with others, you've all made this year a rousing success! Next year we'll be taking a break as the mod team is currently running the Rare Pair Fest as well as the Rare Pair Secret Santa Exchange and have decided to host them on alternating years. So next year, we'll be hosting the second Rare Pair Secret Santa Exchange followed by the fifth edition of the Rare Pair Fest on the following year.

If you want to see the whole collection, click HERE!

If you want to discuss and share rare pair fics in the interim, we have a non-fest server dedicated to rare pairs so please feel free to join us!

Thank you again to everyone for all of your effort and enthusiasm!

[fipindustries]

Mafalda was anti-communist? I remember the strip being pretty left leaning.

all of these comics show the specific character of mafalda being very opposed to communism. mafalda as the character was a pretty basic social democrat. now the comic overall is another topic entirely. it was pretty left leaning, more so as it went along. eventually it would introduce a character called libertad who was pretty openly a socialist

kind of the whole point of the comic is that every friend mafalda had had a completly different political ideology than all the other friends, we had staunch capitalist manolito

the tradcon susanita

the fascist miguelito

and the apolitical nerd (who was totally the author's self insert) who suffered a terrible case of ADHD felipe

it was a pretty well rounded cast all in all!

anyway, the problem is that all people remember of mafalda are her "cool quotes" where she says something pithy yet completly vacuous about the world. the larger character work and the nuances of their political views is going to be completly lost.

[latinotiktok]

Me puedes explicar cuál es el drama con las estatuas de gaturro?

Sí! Gaturro es una caricatura "creada" por el dibujante argentino Nik. El tema es que ese gato de mierda es literalmente una copia de Garfield (en cuestiones de diseño) y Nik es conocido por robar viñetas de Mafalda para su historieta de porquería. We all hate that cunt. Asi que vandalizar la estatua de gaturro es PATRIA y nos vuelve a todos más cercanos

[moominofthevalley]

Sempervirens

If all else fails, write some letters.

emily rose

teen | wc: 1.1k | cw: mentions of grief

a/n: first drabble of 2024. sorry it took so long. hope you enjoy ♡ banner credits from airidescence

It’s been ten years and I still don’t know where to put all this grief.

Uncle Tommy suggested I see a shrink, so I told him to fuck off. I promised him I’d write these stupid letters instead. Journaling, mindfulness, yoga - all that does nothing for me. This shit better work. Anyways. Here’s a list of things you never got to see.

I stopped playing soccer after a broken ankle - it was gnarly. I remember crying in the hospital all night.

My grades got somewhat better. I graduated high school. Somehow became the youngest person in the city to make the Homicide Division. It’s shit work. The captain is a bit of an ass. Tommy met her at a few holiday parties and it did not go well.

By the way, Tommy misses you too. A few weeks ago, we looked through the attic and found a bunch of old photo albums and VHS tapes. We spent all day looking through them. There was a picture of us sitting on your old couch - the black leather one with all the cigarette butts in the cup holders.

My head hurts writing this. We still have nothing for you. No evidence, no lead. Not any fingerprints. The files don’t have anything. I’m pissed. There has to be something. It’s been ten years without you and all that I have left are some old photos and beat-up jackets.

You need justice. I need answers.

We miss you so much. I’m going to stop writing before I throw up.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 09/10/19

* * * *

I had a fluffernutter sandwich this morning and thought of you.

Don’t know why I love it so much. I probably have a dozen cavities. I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last letter - so much has happened.

I quit the NYPD, how shocking. I found so much - probably enough to fire every cop in my precinct - but HR turned on me. Dead rats in my lockers. Side eyes from everyone. So I left. I spent two weeks on my ass, bartending at the Drunk Tank until Tommy made me chat with an old friend of his. Mafalda. I think you knew her too. It’s better here, if not way more chaotic. We have a computer guy named Luke, he’s pretty awkward. A bit pretentious. Terrible cook, too. But he lost his mom around the same time I lost you. There’s a forensic analyst named Ruby who stops by. She’s sweet, always reminding me I can talk to her if I need to. We went out for drinks last night and I honestly can’t remember the last time I laughed so hard.

Also, I got rid of that stupid couch you loved. It was all ripped up and probably full of mold. Uncle Tommy and I spent a whole day looking for a new couch. I landed on this velvet green one with some fancy fringe at the bottom. Very bougie, I know.

You know, it’s annoying funny how people enter your life and insist on staying there. His name is Trystan Thorne and you’d love him. Uncle Tommy does, but I think it’s cause he buys him fancy donuts every morning. I wish you could meet him. I barged into his penthouse, beat his ass, and now we’re partners. Isn’t that weird? He’s infuriating, but it’s nice to have him around. Don’t tell him I said that. I told him some stories about you today and it felt so good to talk about everything.

Finally, some good news. We might have something for you. Some mafia leader named Big V. I told Tommy and Mafalda about her and they both think there’s a chance she did it. I hate that it’s taken so long to come up with just one possible lead. But I’d do anything to know what happened to you.

I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you more. I miss you so fucking much. Here’s to fifteen years without you.

Always surviving, Emily Rose 10/08/23

* * * *

It’s been only a few months since my last letter and so much has happened. Trystan was put on trial for a murder he didn’t commit. We had to fly half the team to Drakovia as a hail mary. Ended up playing a lawyer for a few minutes. it was weird.

I messed up so many times. Trystan and I fought over something we both knew the answer to. Sebastyan...Fuck. Vasili is dead. Every time I remember that look in his eye, I want to throw up.

Fuck.

It’s three am and Trystan is sleeping right next to me. He always listens to me talk about you. I keep imagining all the dinners and talks we could’ve had, just the three of us. You could’ve told him all your stupid jokes - like the one about eating a clock.

Tomorrow is my twenty-ninth birthday. Tommy told me he had something planned. I bet you ten bucks it’ll be a party at the Drunk Tank. I remember growing up, you guys would spend the entire night decorating the apartment with balloons. I hope Tommy isn’t doing that this year.

You’re here everywhere I go. I was doing laundry earlier and saw one of Tommy’s button-downs that used to be yours. It still smelled like you. I make coffee just the way you did - black. I have your small, round nose.

I hate that your life was taken from me. But I will find you at the end of mine. I love you, Dad. Come visit me sometime? Please.

Always living, Emily Rose 3/31/24

* * * * I’ve missed writing. I wrote this all in a day after I found the most devastating YouTube comment and just had to write something. Also, if you didn’t notice the start of the 2nd letter is a little reference to this fic. Anyway - there’s definitely more writing coming from me soon...Hope you enjoyed this angst xx

Click here for the masterlist of all my works so far! Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations @jerzwriter @logolepzy @stars-are-within-me@shadyinternetblizzard @urcowboyboyfriend @lexicook74-blog @leahtine @jahrobin @calisomnia @kyra75 @icarusfallsforever @inlocusmads @tessa-liam

@dutifullynuttywitch @juudaimes-true-form @plathski @cnvrsecupid @im-the-galactic-starfish (let me know if anyone else would like to be added to my perma tag!)

[storyofmychoices]

Dealing with a Narcissist

[Trystan Thorne x Lilah Rose Masterlist]

Pairing: Trystan Thorne (M!MC) x Lilah Rose (F!MC) Book: Crimes of Passion Word Count: ~450 Rating/Warning: Teen (references to adult situations) A/N: This is my first time writing these two! I hope you enjoy it!

Prompt: @choicesjunechallenge: romance, @choicesbookclub

Synopsis: Lilah is attempting to read a new case file but Trystan is being distracting.

"Don't you ever get tired—"

"You should be well acquainted with my endurance by now—" Trystan interrupted, winking in her direction. "Do you need a reminder?"

"—of talking, tired of talking!" Lilah continued with a scoff. " Ugh! You're such a narcissist!"

"And you love it." He smirked in satisfaction, leaning closer toward her ear. The warmth of his breath tickled her skin as his voice lowered. "You love the sound of my voice almost as much as I do."

"Says who? You?" She pressed her hands to her hips, her brow cocking up.

"Says you," he brushed a kiss below her ear before inching away. "You fell for me, narcissist and all!"

She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore him. "If that's how you remember it—"

"I remember something like, 'Oh, Trystan—" he swooned, "—'I want you,' and then... you proceeded to demonstrate quite aptly how much."

"Shut up!" Her eyes widened, her hand attempting to cover his mouth.

"Make me," he laughed, swiftly avoiding her.

"What are we five?" She turned away, hoping to focus on the file she had been trying to read prior.

"I hope children wouldn't engage in what I was alluding to—"

Lilah growled something under her breath, spinning back into him, capturing his lips, and cutting him off. 

His hands wrapped around her hips, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.

"Rose!" Mafalda scolded. "I like to pretend this is still a place of business."

Lilah held up a finger, signaling she needed a moment as she guided Trystan backward one step at a time, his fingers tangling deeply in her hair. 

With his eyes closed, he trusted her lead. His only focus was on the sweet taste of her lips and the heat of her body pressed against his. 

Lilah grappled with the doorknob opening it wide.

"I like the way you think, Rose." His hands raked down her body, slipping beneath her shirt as he waited for the door to close, enveloping them in privacy.

She smirked at his words. "I hope you like what comes next," she teased, nipping at his lower lip.

A throaty growl escaped him. "I know I will."

Their eyes met for a lingering moment; a slow smile adorned her face. "So will I." Lilah firmly pressed her hands against his chest, roughly propelling him backward through the newly opened door. Before he knew what was happening, she slammed the door, locking him on the other side. She leaned back proudly, only then remembering the others in the office. "What? Like you weren't tired of listening to him?"

Without another word, and with Trystan pouting on the other side, she returned to work. 

This is just a silly little drabble, but I felt it captured them well and I hope you enjoyed reading it.

Thank you for reading and making it this far. I appreciate any and all support of these two lovely characters!

[mafaldaknows]

Instagram: johnp.shanley

💙💚

[lilyoffandoms]

Crimes Drabble (Trystan x Noel)

Warning & A/N: A little gift for @hydn-jpg as a thank you for all the beautiful art you created for free a few weeks back for our little fandom. You are a gem!! Imagine this takes place right after book two.

The tension that leaves me with the momentary weightless feeling of the plane taking to the air has me breathing a sigh of relief. If I believed in a higher power, I’d say a prayer in thanks.

I watch out the window as the Drakovian capital slips further and further away. I watch until the clouds begin to blot out every neighborhood one by one. If only they could blot out the bad memories that linger in the air.

Luke and Ruby sit snuggled close together near the front of the cabin. Some Drakovian spy thriller plays on the screen before them. I can’t help the small smile that threatens to break at their critiques of the acting, realism, and cinematography.

Mafalda and Tommy sit with a glass in their hands sipping whiskey and reminiscing over old cases. Again, a small smile seeks its way to the surface as I think of how lucky I am to have all four of them in my life.

I start as a hand slips into mine and a bottle of whiskey is set between us.

Of all the people I am most thankful to have found in my life, I worry it may be him.

“What’s the for?” I question the bottle and no glasses.

“You look like you need it. Have you even taken a breath since takeoff?” he grins.

“I’ll breath when we are out of Drakovian air space.”

“Noel,” he chuckles at me.

The smile finally breaks and I shake my head at him and turn back to the window to watch the last of the godforsaken place and case disappear beneath the clouds.

“Have a drink with me.”

“We can have a celebratory drink when we touch down in New York,” I state and rest my head on his shoulder.

“Noel,” he laughs again.

“That’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. I can agree to that,” Trystan whispers into a kiss to the top of my head.

I close my eyes and pray to gods I don’t believe in that the worst is finally behind us.

[alj4890]

A New Kind of Intimacy

(Trystan Thorne x F!MC) in a Choices Crimes of Passion drabble.

Here you go, @lexicook74-blog Sorry this request took so long. I have had several family emergencies pop up.

Rating: G

Masterlist

"Hey." Cameron wheezed on her way inside the main office.

"That didn't sound like your normal greeting, Detective." Trystan teased. "Rough night?"

"Kinda. I got caught in last night's storm and couldn't find a cab." She coughed.

Trystan's warm smile turned into a thin line.

"And just what were you doing last night out in the storm?"

Cameron missed the hard edge tinging his velvety voice.

"Luke called with some more info he was able to dig up on that Rothschild case. Seems Mrs. McNair likes to frequent a particular bar down on Water Street." She sniffled, then blew her nose.

She coughed some more then searched her pockets in vain for a cough drop.

"Why didn't you call me?" He asked, his tone growing more irritated the longer he observed her.

"It was late and more of a spur of the moment check. I got caught in the rain while searching for a taxi."

"You should have called me, even if it was to pick you up." He grumbled.

"And disturb your beauty sleep?" She teased. "I was fine. Remember, I was doing these types of things before I got stuck with you for a partner."

He frowned when she shivered and pulled her jacket closed.

It was a sunny day with a mild breeze blowing. It was nowhere near temperatures that could cause the type of shivers she seemed to be fighting.

Trystan reached over and placed the back of his hand on her forehead.

"You have a fever."

Cameron snorted. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not." He argued.

"I promise I am." She reached for the case file on her desk. "Now, I think we should--"

"MAFALDA!" Trystan yelled out.

Their boss stuck her head out of her office.

"What?" She asked, eyeing the two curiously.

"I'm taking Cameron home." He gripped his partner's arm and tugged her towards the exit. "She's sick."

"I'm well enough to work!" Cameron tried to wrench her arm free. "Let go and--'

"She has a fever and is coughing and sneezing all over the place." Trystan explained. "I'm sure you don't want to take any germs home to your daughters."

"You're right." Mafalda waved them off. "Keep that at home, Rose. Me and Luke can handle things while you're off."

"But I--" Cameron weakly protested.

"I'll keep you updated on her condition." Trystan interrupted.

He dragged Cameron to the elevator. Once the doors closed, she lit into him.

"What the hell was that?!" She coughed. "I was fine to sit at my desk and review the case."

"Yes, but I know you, Detective." He argued.

Trystan folded his arms and matched her glare with one of his own.

"That brilliant mind of yours would have noticed something in the file the rest of us missed and you'd have been determined to go investigate it."

"Because that's my job!" She croaked.

She winced with how sore her throat was.

"I know." He gentled his tone. "And you're wonderful at it. But you won't be of use to anyone if you work yourself into the hospital."

"It's a cold, Trystan, not a damn heart attack." She muttered.

"Your fevered state is going to make you weak." He pointed out. "What if your next lead puts you in danger?"

"That's why I have you there to watch my back." She grumbled.

"Which you didn't take advantage of last night." He reminded her

Cameron avoided his accusatory gaze.

"Fine. Just drop me off at the nearest pharmacy and I'll get some cold meds. After they kick in, I'll be good to go."

"No." Trystan hissed.

"Excuse me?" She narrowed her eyes at him.

"You heard me." He took her arm again once they stepped outside. "My car's over here."

She muttered about how pig-headed he was while getting into his car.

He merely smiled over her mumbled insults as he drove to his apartment.

"Why aren't you taking me home?" She demanded once she recognized where they were.

"Because I have all you need at my place along with the comforts I prefer for myself." Trystan replied.

"Are you saying my apartment isn't good enough for you?" Cameron griped.

"Not at all. Mine has one thing though that yours doesn't." He responded.

"And that is?" She sneezed three times in a row.

"There are no copies of case files anywhere." He parked then led her towards the elevators.

"Clever." She reluctantly smiled at him. "It's almost as if you know me."

"I do know you, Cameron." Trystan's tone softened to one of earnest affection. "I know how selflessly giving you are of your time and talents."

"Ugh." Her head dropped back in frustration. "Enough with the compliments, Prince Charming. I give up."

"Ah, but unlike my Drakovian brethren, I prefer to give compliments to those who deserve them. I also refuse to rub in my victory." Trystan winked at her. "Though this is a battle I knew I would win."

He opened the door of his apartment and swept her an elegant bow.

Cameron's amused snort turned into a wracking cough.

Trystan clucked his tongue in sympathy then guided her past his living room and on into his bedroom.

"Allow me." He helped her out of her jacket. "Your pajamas are right where you left them the other night."

Cameron went to the drawer he had made not too long ago just for her. She smiled softly to see the various clothes he insisted she keep there for whenever he got her to agree to spend the night.

After changing, she realized how exhausted she was from the fever she was fighting. Without any fuss, she got into his California king sized bed and snuggled under the covers.

Trystan appeared not too long after with a tray loaded with juice, cold meds, tissues, a leather bound book, and a cup of something steamy.

"Hungry?" He asked.

"Not really." She sat up against the bed pillows, eyeing the tray curiously.

"After you take some medicine," he handed her the mug filled with a strange yellowish brown liquid, "drink this."

"What is it?" Cameron wrinkled her nose at the thick liquid substance.

"An old Drakovian home remedy for colds." He nudged the mug up to her lips. "Trust me, it will make you feel better."

"Yeah, but what's in it?" She asked.

"Sorry love." He told her. "But only Drakovians are allowed to know that. If we shared it with outsiders, we'd be dragged to the gallows for such treason."

Cameron groaned when he merely smiled. She took a tentative sip, her eyebrows rising in surprise. There was a very strong taste of alcohol mixed in with what she thought might be chicken broth. Strangely enough, she thought she tasted a few other odd spices such as cinnamon. It sent her senses reeling yet wasn't as terrible as she first thought.

"Whoa! That was not what I expected it to taste like!"

Trystan chuckled as he settled on the bed next to her.

"It does quite a number on your nose and throat, making it the perfect remedy for a cold." He lifted the leather bound book and insisted she finish her mug so she could rest.

Cameron found herself obeying. It surprised her that she would readily do so. She couldn't recall minding anyone, not even her beloved father, when it came to taking it easy when she was hurt or sick. Something about her banished prince made the notion of being taken care of not so horrible.

"What's with the book?" She asked after setting her empty mug on the tray.

"Can't have my favorite detective bored and deciding to try and escape back to work." He explained. "So I have a collection of old Drakovian mystery stories to keep that workaholic brain of yours engaged."

Cameron couldn't help but smile. It amazed her how well he knew her after such a short amount of time. He made it feel like they'd been together for years rather than a month.

She curled up against his side and allowed his melodious voice to soothe her into a deep sleep.

Trystan's lips curved when he noticed her nod off during the third story. He marked the page, knowing she'd insist on hearing the rest once she awakened, and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. He then tucked in the covers around her and quietly slipped out of the room.

Knowing Cameron was right where she needed to be and with the one she needed to be with, Trystan was able to relax and focus on making sure she was properly being taken care of.

[jerzwriter]

New Traditions

Trystan may have lived in New York for years, but Thanksgiving was always just another day. This year, he's spending it with Carolina, Tommy, and their friends. He's impressed with their celebration's Latin flair and their generous, unique traditions, all of which lead him to a bit of self-discovery.

Book: Crimes of Passion (Post Book 2) Pairing: Trystan Thorne x F!MC (Carolina Rose) Other Characters: Tommy Rose, Luke Watanabe, Ruby Webster, Mafalda Ginovesi. Words: 1,800 Rating: Teen A/N: This had been in the works already, but I appreciated the ask as well! Participating in @choicesnovchallenge - Thanksgiving / @choicesholidays - I'm thankful for you... / @choicesficwriterscreations Holiday Event

Full Masterlist | COP Masterlist | Holiday Masterlist

Carolina stood quietly in a darkened corner behind the bar, eyes focused on her task. The day before Thanksgiving was always chaotic at her uncle's bar, but she had only one care in the world: slicing plantains with meticulous precision. She was grateful for the repetitive task, for while it was a happy chaos that surrounded her, it kept her out of the melee.

“Luke!” Rubby yelled from across the room, eyeing the seating chart on her clipboard. “What did you do? This table isn’t supposed to be here.”

“If we put it this way, it will give us more room to walk behind and serve food,” he insisted.

“Yes. But if we put it this way,  we can’t put another against the wall. If the same amount of people show up as last year, we won’t have room for everyone to sit.”

“But....”

“But nothing,” Mafalda scolded from a few feet away. “I personally put Ruby in charge of the seating for a reason. We aren’t expecting as many as last year; we’re expecting more, and we have to maximize seating.”

“Fine,” Luke sighed begrudgingly. “I’ll defer to the boss.”

“And in this situation, that’s clearly Ruby,” Carolina winked. “Right, Luke?”

Luke was about to retort when he was interrupted by Uncle Tommy running through the room. 

“Coming through! Coming through! I have the pernil!”

“He has the Pernil,” Mafalda sang joyfully.  “Now, we know it’s going to be a party!”

“Yeah, too bad it’s not for us,” Carolina chuckled.

Tommy turned to his niece with sympathetic eyes. “Sobrina, you know the rules. You’ll have plenty of your own pernil... tomorrow.”

“I know, I know... I’m just teasing! I love our community Thanksgiving. I wouldn’t change it for anything!”

There was a loud tap on the front door, and Carolina’s face brightened visibly when she saw Trystan outside, his arms loaded with boxes filled with baked goods. She and Ruby both rushed to greet him.

“Hello, gorgeous!” Carolina beamed, placing a quick peck on Trystan’s ice-cold cheek as Ruby helped take the falling boxes from his hands.

“Thanks for the help there, Carolina,” Ruby teased.

But Trystan wouldn’t have it. “Hey! Priorities!” He took off his jacket, and a chill ran through him. “God, it’s cold out there.”

“Well, perhaps you should begin dressing for New York winters,” Carolina reprimanded.

“Says you!” Luke interrupted. “I’ve never seen you in more than that unlined leather.”

“Yes, but style matters to me... and besides... I don’t complain about the cold.”

“She’s got you there,” Ruby agreed.

“No matter,” Carolina dismissed, “Because I have the perfect way to help you warm up.”

Trystan raised a brow as he took Carolina under his arm. “Oh, do you now?”

But she pushed him away with a giggle. “Easy there, tiger! I meant you could work up a sweat helping me slice the plantains. We have five pastelons to make, and they’re not going to cut themselves.”

He followed her behind the bar and lifted the largest plantain with an adolescent amusement.  

“Oh, slicing phallic-shaped fruits into pieces... that’s how I’m going to warm up.”

“Yes it is,” Mafalda smirked. “And I’d be careful if I were you! Because Carolina finds that task very relaxing.”

“Yeah, I’d be good if I were, pal,” Luke cautioned.

Trystan wrapped his arms around Carolina and pulled her into a kiss. “As if I’d be anything but."

“Iww. Gross,” Luke protested. But Carolina wouldn’t have it.

“Hey, you started it!”

Tommy came in from the kitchen with some appetizers, and the group gathered around the bar as Trystan and Carolina continued slicing away.

“So, what are pastelons anyway,” Trystan asked.

“It’s sort of like a lasagna, but instead of layered pasta, we use layers of sliced plantain,” Carolina advised.

“And it’s delicious,” Ruby salivated. “Pastelon, Tommy’s pernil, and some arroz con gandules... that’s all I need to be happy in this world.”

“Good to know," Luke deadpanned.

“I meant foodwise, of course.”

“While everything sounds delicious, I’ve done some research, and this isn’t traditional Thanksgiving fare.”

“It’s traditional Thanksgiving fare when you’re dating a Puerto Rican from the Bronx, my love,” Carolina smiled.

“It’s not as if we won’t have the rest,” Tommy piped in. “I have three turkeys in the oven right now, along with stuffing, and my mashed potatoes are to die for.”

“What about yams?” Trystan asked, earning him peculiar looks from all in attendance.

“Honey... no one eats yams.”

“You’re kidding me!” He gasped in mock horror. “Now, my entire holiday is ruined! I was led to believe there would be yams!”

“Babe,  you’re making far too big a deal out of this.”

“I know. I yam,” Trystan grinned.

Carolina playfully smacked his arm as the others groaned.

“How did we end up with him?” Luke asked.

“It was sheer luck on your part!” Trystan stated. “So, how did this evening's tradition begin?”

“Opening the bar to the community?” Carolina asked.  “We’ve been doing this since I was very young. My father and Uncle Tommy always loved doing this, and I followed in their footsteps.”

Tommy poured some wine for all as he began to share the story.

“Jimmy and I were working late one year, and a woman came in quite distraught.  Her husband had recently died, leaving her with three young children.  She didn’t have the money for a proper Thanksgiving dinner, but it had been her late husband’s favorite holiday, and she didn’t want the kids to go without. Jimmy and I just shot each other a look; we knew what we were going to do.  We told her not to worry about it and, on Thanksgiving Day, we brought everything her family needed to her apartment. It was the best feeling to know we could help.”

“This has always been a low-income community,” Carolina added.  “So, there are a lot of families who have to do without.”

“She’s right,” Tommy nodded.  “But it isn’t only about money.  We have a large immigrant community, and sometimes they don’t have family here, and it can be hard to spend the holiday's alone."

“Exactly,” Mafalda agreed. “Not to mention, everyone isn't blessed with a loving family. Some choose not to spend the holidays at home because their family isn’t accepting.”

“Amen to that,” Carolina agreed. “I remember when I told my father and Tio that I was bisexual.  They were great, but many of my friends were not that fortunate.  Let’s just say the holidays can be the most depressing time of the year for many people, and we like to do our part to help that where we can.”

“So we decided we’d always open The Drunk Tank to the community on Thanksgiving Eve.  No one is turned away.”

Carolina nodded in agreement. “And once local residents and businesses learned about this, they began to give us donations, and it’s gotten bigger every year that we’ve hosted.”

“Yep, and all we ask is that everyone pay it forward with an act of kindness to others.”

“This is a beautiful tradition,” Trystan said, his voice rife with emotion.  “So you have Thanksgiving with your community today and again with the family tomorrow.”

“Almost,” Tommy corrected.  “We get to have Thanksgiving with our family today and tomorrow. Our extended family today, and our closest family tomorrow.”

“We don’t do much eating tonight,” Luke informed. “Tonight, we’re here to serve. But tomorrow, make sure you wear your yoga pants, Trystan, because eating becomes a competitive sport.”

“Yoga pants?” Trystan asked. “I don’t think I own yoga pants.”

“Well, then you better squeeze into a pair of mine,” Carolina insisted.  “Because, trust me, you won’t survive the day without the benefit of spandex.”

Shortly after, people began to arrive, and the flow never seemed to end.  It was hard work, but the team worked together, and you could feel the joy and electricity in the air.  Time passed quickly, and before they knew it, Tommy was locking the door after the last guest left shortly after midnight. After quickly cleaning up, Tommy happily lined up glasses on the bar for one last tradition.

“Oh! This is my absolute favorite part of the night!” Mafalda grinned. "Coquito!"

“This isn’t my favorite part of the night,” Carolina said, grabbing her delicious coconut, rum and spice beverage. “This is my favorite part of the year."

“Yeah, why don’t we have coquito year-round?” Luke asked.

“Because if we did, then it wouldn’t be so special now.” Tommy said as he raised his glass.  “To another successful Thanksgiving, and to the most important thing of all... family.... which includes every one of you.”

“Hear, hear,” Ruby nodded as glasses clinked together.

Later that night, Trystan mindlessly played with Carolina’s hair as she nuzzled her head on his chest.  Exhausted but still buzzing with joy, they simply reveled in the thing they were most thankful for that year... each other.  Though he was silent, Carolina could tell Trystan was deep in thought. 

“What’s on your mind,” she whispered. “You’re never this quiet.”

“Are you saying I’m a loudmouth?” He asked.

“Just answer my question,” she laughed.  “I won’t be forced into brutal honesty on this special day.”

But Trystan refrained a moment longer, and Carolina felt when he swallowed hard. “That’s just it,” he said with a broken voice. “This day is special, and I’m sure tomorrow will be, too.”

“It will be.  We are pretty casual about it, but it’s a day filled with fun, food, and the people we love.”

“It’s about... family.” Trystan paused, gently lifting Carolina’s chin to face him.  “You know there are plenty of us Thorne’s; if we follow the textbook definition, it is a family.”

“Yes...”

“I’ve spent most of my life with them, and I always felt so alone.  But tonight... here with you, and Tommy, and everyone... Carolina, this is the first time in my life I’ve ever spent a holiday as part of a family, a true family... and that’s all because of you.”

With tears in her eyes, Carolina leaned over and met Trystan with a warm, gentle kiss.  When they eventually broke away, each wore blissful grins.

“It’s not all because of me,” she insisted. “We wouldn’t let just anyone in, you know. It took someone pretty incredible.”

“I am incredible,” he smirked. “Aren’t I?”

“Yes, you are.  And you’re humble... oh, so humble.”

They both giggled as Trystan pulled her close.

“I love when you acknowledge that,” he teased. “But all joking aside... I’m so grateful for what we share. You... you’re my family, Carolina.  And I never plan on letting you go."

“Damn right,” she beamed. “Because you’re my family too, and family is forever.”

~~~~ So, our Drakovian prince and New York Rican princess are happy again... I sense some drama coming soon! lol Thank you for reading!

Tagging on separate post.

[ovethinker1thebackup]

Trystan and Rose trying to hide their relationship.Meanwhile…

-Marguerite knows(our audacity to ask if we were too obvious as if the MC didn’t kiss Trystan in the flaming greenhouse in front of her before they all escaped or as if Trystan didn’t made it clear that he was the one that will undress-dress Rose in the hospital, yeah that’s what gladly friends do.)

-Ruby and Luke totally know.So does Mafalda

-Lydea knows.Babes she found you together sleeping the day of the arrest.Yeah,she totally thought “oh,a friendly sleepover”

-Colette knows.Those who took the diamond scene with the palace tour know.

-Vasili knows.I am sorry Trystan,but when you asked for 15 minutes i don’t think that he thought “maybe they want to discuss about the investigation”.

-Queen definitely knows.

No Rose,no.Not too obvious at all.I wonder how everyone knows 🤔🤔

[fipindustries]

so this is happening.

for those who are not argentinian and lack context, mafalda is a comic strip from the sixties similar to peanuts, if peanuts was, let say, a hundred and sixty seven times more overtly political. its an absolute classic here and a staple of everyone's childhoods.

and its getting an animated adaptation in netflix. i will proceed now to explain all the reasons why this is a terrible idea: (most of these reasons will be either a) it will never do justice to the experience i had as a kid reading the comic and b) i dont trust the argentinian animation industry to do a good job with it)

first of all, and the author agrees with me on this one, mafalda cannot be voiced. she has the voice of whoever reads her in their mind. if she were to be given the voice of a specific 6 year old girl that would no longer be mafalda

second, mafalda is too of her time, she is a girl from the 60's, growing up in the specific political context of the 60's. but noone will have the balls to actually set her show in the 60's because current generations of children "would not find it reletable" or some other such bullshit. we will see mafalda with a smartphone and im going to kill myself when that happens

third, i have to keep on stressing about the politics of mafalda, she was contantly talking about communism vs capitalism, about cuba and fidel castro, about the pope, about the vietnam war, about the economy, about poverty, about goberment corruption, about nuclear war. again i dont see any studio with the spine or the guts or the most basic piece of human rectitude to actually touch on those topics the way they deserve

fourth, it will not be animated properly. mafalda was strictly a black and white comic, it was never colored, so the jump to color is going to be jarring. on top of that quino's line art was very characteristic and an integral part of the comic style, that wont translate either. but most important of all, from what we can see of that teaser, it looks like they are going to do it in cel shaded 3D. which is just. no. absolutely not. it kills the entire spirit of the original comic. is going to look like shit. in the last couple of years animation studios have pushed cel shaded 3d anmation to its limits, giving us masterpieces like spiderverse or the puss in boots and even the latest fairy odd parents show. argentinian animation is not there yet. is not even close. we are not getting that. we are getting the cheap ass, ugly ass, basic bitch 3d cel shaded of a shovelware anime pushed out by some third rate anime studio.

i just dont see any way this can be good. its going to suck and the world will be a worse place for it.