#yes i know i did a ides of march piece last year

[thewisestdino]

Et Tu Brute?

[wolverina2002]

Looking at the US cop situation is so fucking wild from over here. Over here for me being germany, with a traffic policeman as a father. Thought I´d share my experiance.

I´ve been to some big ass demonstrations. I´ve been to the biggest demonstration Hamburg has seen this century. It was way, way more people than even the organizers expected, and it stressed the police to pieces. Why? Because a lot of groups jumped on board that weren´t as peacefull as Fridays for Future, and the police only prepared for Fridays for Future having their nice peacefull - if loud - march through central Hamburg on that friday morning. Also the traffic was an absolute nightmare and they barely had the menpower to secure everything.

Did they break it up? No. The only arrests made were for drunk and disorderly´. (idiots, getting drunk and undressing right in front of the cops, what´d they think was gonna happen?) Hamburg was a massive traffic jam the whole day but that was kinda our goal anyways.

I went to CSD. Did cops break it up? No, they made sure we could march without worrying about the traffic. They probably made sure nobody died because drivers are assholes and the bus traffic in Kiel is trying to kill you. There were some anti-cops people, which always makes the police nervous because, surprise, they can´t keep you safe if you don´t let them do their job!

My local train station is a crime hub were three cops were stabbed over the last two years and one person got killed. They get to control your bag and ID at random now and wear protective gear and batons. They used to be unarmed. (Yes, you heard me, they used to be unarmed until three of their colleagues got hurt, multiple people were attacked and someone died.)

But they´re still chill. Still help you get your luggage or your stroller up the stairs or in the train. Still help lost kids find their families in the chaos. Still point you the right way if you´re lost.

Same in bigger cities. They´re more stressed, because it´s a lot going on and it´s not enough of them, but ... still nice. Still gonna point you to where you find help.

Traffic cops are like the most done people I´ve ever met (going from my dad´s colleagues.) They Have Seen Shit. Please stop driving drunk on the Autobahn for god´s sake! And yet, most people still feel safe being pulled over.

I know our police isn´t perfect, but I also feel like it´s less flawed than the US. And I feel like this shouldn´t be something I have to be glad for. I should be able to take that for granted. Police shouldn´t be your enemy, unless of course you started shit then you really only have yourself to blame.

[aritany]

he called me finch | a.elenko | excerpt from BOYHOOD

(image id under the cut!)

I think I willfully ignored a lot of things in the early years. Sometimes it was easier not to wonder until the answer was right in my face and there was nowhere I could go to run from it. But that usually meant that when I did stumble into the truth it hurt a lot worse than if I’d been looking from the beginning.

It was like that with Andrew’s mother.

I knew that I wanted to pretend she was alright, after I found out. That was the first moment of my life that I recall wishing I could go back to before it had happened and smooth out the creases of the whole day so that I could arrange not to know about it.

Andrew and I were sitting on the floor of the sitting room when it happened. There were papers scattered around us, because we were trying to sort out the details of one of Andrew’s marvellous ideas, which this time was a jacks tournament that we hoped would last the whole summer. Andrew had been in Nanton almost a whole year by then, and I’d made the mistake of making him collect names of players, and now we had too many, because when Andrew was the one asking, everyone said yes.

Outside, snow drifted aimlessly against the window in an impressive late-March display of winter’s refusal to let go, and Mrs. Fletcher was in the kitchen. I think she was probably listening to us, because she liked to do that. We always pretended we didn’t know so that she wouldn’t feel as though she ought to stop.

The two of us were in the middle of arguing over the merits of two or three person teams when there was a terrible crash.

Andrew was up and on his feet in an instant. I was after him a half-second later, so I was right on his tail when we skidded into the kitchen.

Mrs. Fletcher was on the ground.

For a singular, terrible moment, I thought she was dead. There was a teapot—or, pieces of it—scattered across the kitchen floor and she was lying there like she’d just collapsed where she stood, head lolling to the side, one arm out like the wing of a broken baby bird. And she really did look dead, because I couldn’t see her chest moving.

But then the next moment she opened her eyes.

Beside me, I heard Andrew start to breathe again.

“Oh,” Mrs. Fletcher said from on the ground, and then she started to cry.

There was something terrible about seeing a grown up cry like that. I glanced wildly at Andrew, but he was already in action, darting to her side and helping get an arm around her.

Between the two of us, we managed to get her standing, and I realized that my hands were shaking even though it had turned out alright.

Mrs. Fletcher didn’t stop crying even after she could walk, and Andrew led her into the sitting room while I picked up pieces of the teapot just to have something to do so I wouldn’t have to think. I used the crocheted dishrag that Petra had made for Mrs. Fletcher that Christmas to wipe up as much of the tea as I could, and by that time, Andrew had come back.

He jerked his head toward the mudroom and so we slipped out carefully. Andrew shut the screen door but left the wooden door open.

I waited for him to speak first. The mudroom was bitterly cold, and I was in my sock feet, but I didn’t think the dread I was feeling in my chest had anything to do with temperature.

“She’s lying down,” Andrew said, voice low and quiet.

I glanced into the sitting room. I could see the corner of her foot hanging over the arm of the chesterfield, but the rest of her was hidden from view. “What happened?”

“She fell,” Andrew said.

There was an extended pause. The wind made a violent show of rattling the windowpanes behind him.

After a moment, Andrew said, “It happens a lot.”

“Well—” I stood there and shivered, hands wrapped around myself. “Why?”

“We don’t know,” Andrew said, and his voice was tiny and tremulous. “Father told me the doctors don’t know either.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I didn’t know she was sick.”

“I know you didn’t,” Andrew said, and he sounded miserable. “I didn’t tell you.”

I wanted to ask him why. I didn’t.

But I saw it all the time after that. I hadn’t known to look before then, but after I saw the way Mrs. Fletcher’s hands couldn’t quite stay still, and how she just kept on getting thinner and thinner until Mother started sending me over with extra food so Mrs. Fletcher wouldn’t have to worry about getting it ready. I saw the way she hugged Andrew longer, like she didn’t want to let go.

I knew Andrew didn’t want to let go either. I just hoped she knew it, too.

[lunnybunny12]

Sirius Black x Reader (Soulmate)

A/N: This a soulmate AU (Takes place after deathly hallows and lets pretend Sirius is alive shall we) 

REQUEST: @graniairish​ hello love. i love your stories and for the first time i really dare to ask a request. could you maybe write a short story for me? reader is a muggle, and the great love of Sirius Black. she is his soulmate, his one. Because of the things that happened in the first war, she was bewitched with the obliviate spell to save her life. after Sirius is free again he finds her and tries to awaken her memories of him in the hope that she still loves him inside her soul. because for him she is still the one great love. 

Word count: 1438

No warnings 

Master list 

You were about 5 years old when you were told what soul mates were, why your parents and other peoples hearts would glow. You were told that when you met the love of your life, you'd get an overwhelming burn and as you got to know each other it would fade into a warm buzz. From what you'd heard it was the best feeling you could imagine. The youngest recorded soulmates were found in Edenburg in 1880 when they were 3 years old. As you got older however you fell out of love with the concept. Over the years you'd seen your friends, family even strangers find their mates and fall in love, have a family. You thought that you would have found yours by now. For all you knew they could have been in another country or even dead. There had been plenty of recorded cases of that on your time on earth.

Rain everywhere. Rain up the river, where it flows among green aits and meadows; Rain down the river, where it rolls defiled among the tiers of shipping and the waterside of a great city. Rain on the garden, rain on the gnomes. Rain creeping into all the nooks and crannies of your roof; Rain running down your fogged window as you refined the details of your painting. The brush strokes had to be as careful and controlled as possible.

A sudden gust of freezing wind choked the warm air around you, breaking your concentration. You were not in the mood for talking the day you had to get the painting finished by that afternoon (or at least that's what you told yourself) and you weren't exactly dressed for guests.

"JACK!" you yelled throwing down your brush and marching to your front door. "You better have a good reason for being...." Your eyes widened in fear.

It wasn't your brother as you expected but a man you recognised in one of Jacks papers. He was looking right at you, his piercing eyes staring right at you, cementing you in place. By the way, he was dressed, he wasn't some hobo off of the street. He wore a green and yellow pinstriped coat that stopped at his knees, navy blue trousers with a matching shirt underneath and a dark waistcoat.

"I didn't hear you knock" you gulped, eyes looking to the closest vase in case you needed to defend yourself. "Why are you in my house?"

"(y/n)" the man smiled taking a step closer in which you took a step back and grabbed the vase.

"Don't take another step closer or else the vase won't be the only thing smashed into a million pieces." He stopped, face in shock.

"Who are you and why are you in my house?"

"I understand, you're scared but listen to me..." He extended his hands to shield himself. That's when you saw the wand on his hip, he was a wizard... and if he was going to hurt you he would've by now.

"You're a wizard? You here for my brother because if so he hasn't lived here for a year." you breathed slowly lowering your "weapon".

"I'm a wizard yes. My name is Sirius black" He breathed regaining his composure, his hands still out in case you changed your mind. "And no I'm not here for your brother but he did sent me here."

"Jack (your last name)? Tall, black hair..." "Has a mole on his left eyebrow and a tattoo of an owl on his hand yes that Jack"

It checked out your brother did indeed fit that description. You sighed and told him to follow you into the kitchen.

"Are you going to keep that with you? he joked talking a seat at your kitchen table.

"Yes, yes I am," you stated, turning on the kettle. "You're a complete stranger who just broke into my locked house, I assumed you used your magic. which begs the question... What was so important that you couldn't have wait long enough to knock on my door?"

Sirius just sat there with a smile on his face. Like when you haven't seen someone in a long time and you were catching up.

"Were not COMPLETE strangers, (Y/n). In fact, we're far from strangers and be happy to explain if you'd drop that vase. Id feel allot safer." He looked so smug and you were having non of it.

"Fine, but hand over the wand"

"Why?"

An equally smug smile was plastered on your face "Id feel allot safer."

"Touche"

Since your brother was a wizard, you understood most of the lingo. What each spell meant and how it worked. The manes of important places like Hogsmead and Azkaban were words you had to learn to simply have a conversation with people in the wizarding world. But there was one spell or charm or whatever the hell they called it that had slipped your mind quite literally, "obliviate".  Sirius told you it was a memory charm,  that could be used to erase specific memories from an individual's mind.

"Why would anyone want to use that charm on me?" you asked pouring the pair of you a cup of tea. "I mean sure I'm a muggle but Jack is a wizard."

Sirius had sunk in his seat a little bit, he knew that you wouldn't believed him if he just treat out said it so he did the only thing that he could think of. When you went to place his tea on the table in front of him, he grabbed your wrist, accidentally making you drop it.

"What the hell!" you began to yell until you felt an unfamiliar feeling in your chest. When you looked and saw your heart it was... glowing?

Where was the burning? why didn't it hurt? When you looked back at him, his chest was glowing too. That couldn't have been right, the only way it wouldn't hurt was if you'd already ... met.

Your heart was going a million times a minute and your breathing was too quick for it to be doing anything. Sirius stood up, still holding your hand. He was so close he couldn't lose you again.

"listen I know, I know it's confusing and scary and all over the place but if you give me my wand... I can give back your memories. Make you understand" before he finished the sentence you fished the stick out of your pocket and shoved it into his chest.

"Hurry up before I pass out!"

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It was overwhelming at first when you met him. Like a fire was burning its way through your entire being, from the bottom of your toes to the tips of every strand of hair. It was a good burn, felt the same as blushing but internally. Then as if in sync, your hearts started to glow. For the first time in your life, you didn't feel so alone and he felt the same.

The pair of you were young and fresh-faced. Right out of school not knowing how ether of your worlds worked quite yet but you stayed together through it all. Years of emotions, conversations. arguments and apologies seemed to morph themselves into a relationship that worked for the pair of you. He was happy. You were happy.

Every smile and kind word, every annoyance, dances and songs you shared came flooding back to you. The day he was taken from you was the hardest thing you had to live with, you begged and pleaded with him to make you forget him and to save you from years of torturing yourself over what you could've done.... he did as you asked.

----------------------------------------------------------

You woke up on the floor, Sirius arms wrapped around you with his head on your shoulder. He was holding you like you were about to shatter into a million peaces. He was always gentle with you, even during the times you didn't want him to be. He would always stroke your hair and kiss your head and... you remembered.

It was so quiet. The rain was still thundering on your window. The worlds still turned but you didn't care.

A content smile curled onto your lips as your hands glided to hold his face. He still held onto you.

" Its good to be back, Padfoot. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me"

He leant down and kissed you. It was so long and heated and filled with so much love you could've exploded. Your hearts still glowing with a warm buzz you had become so familiar with.

"How could I forget my Soul mate?"

[yvaineseleneposts]

The Troubadour

Requested: no

A/N: This has to be my longest piece ever! I hope it was worth the wait and that you enjoyed it. There could be a few mistakes in there both in English and Italian, sorry in advance. I loved writing this, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted but I am a perfectionist and I have rewritten this about 5 times. I just needed to post it now!

Pairing: OC!Diana Bianchi & Damiano David

Words: 3k

Warning(s): swearing, drinking, smoking (I mean it’s the 70s…), smoking weed, my Italian (I have been studying this beautiful language for three years now but people make mistakes)

West Hollywood, California // Mid-January 1972

Red eyes.

Sweaty foreheads.

That is all Diana would see when they screamed at her. “CAN I GET TWO BEERS AND A COKE PLEASE?!”

Working behind the bar was not her dream job. Diana remembered it like it was yesterday, she and her friend Tami had gone to The Troubadour to celebrate the weekend when she saw a “help wanted” poster. It was a godsend. Diana applied there and then and not long after she found herself behind the bar, handing out drinks to people who looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Another plus side was the fact that she could attend the concerts of all the artists and bands for free.

Obviously, there were also downsides to this job. For example, Diana couldn’t go out and live her teenage years. She isn’t allowed to drink (too much) on the job and the hours aren’t exactly great. The pay is okay though and the tips are even better. Half of the people don’t even know how much they are giving and walk off like they didn’t just hand you 20 for an eight dollar drink. She doesn’t complain much about her job but she does feel left behind sometimes. Like when Tami or her other friend chat about some weird adventure they had the night before and who they met or kissed. Diana felt like she missed out on a lot of things but she had no other choice.

Her parents had kicked her out when she was 15. Diana moved in with her grandmother and lived with her for a while until she passed away. She has been living alone in her grandmother’s old apartment ever since. A few friends had moved in with her but then moved out again when they had found a better place to live. So it was just Diana paying the rent for the place.

 “CAN I GET A RUM AND COKE?!” Diana gets snapped out of her thoughts. Shit, what did he want?! She thinks to herself as she stares at the intoxicated man.  “SORRY?!” She shouts back over the loud music. At least she had another reason for not hearing the man.  “RUM AND COKE!” That is all the man yells before turning his band to her so he could face the stage. Some weird indie band is playing tonight. Diana wasn’t really into it and honestly couldn’t wait until her boss would send her home for the night. She puts in a little less rum, the man will probably not even taste the difference.

The band had stopped playing somewhere around two a.m. However not all the guests had left around 2.30 which is something Diana hated the most. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy her job but after so many hours standing on her feet, she wanted nothing more than to clean up, go home and get into her warm bed.

 “Diana, can you come here for a minute?” her boss asked. What was that tone, was he going to fire her?! “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry.” Pfew. Diana walked behind him into his office.

 “What can I help you with, Doug?” She asked as she sat down in the very comfortable chair across from him. Doug Weston had somewhat become her parent over the last few years that she had worked here. He was always so kind to her and could always ask him for help if she needed him.

 “I want to get more bands from across the sea. I want interesting people and not just the same bands playing over and over again. New talent that no one has heard of before but will become known because of this place. Inspire new talent, you know?” He was rambling on with his sales pitch as if you had any input, it was his place after all. “And seeing that you can speak more languages than I have ever could, I was wondering if you could write small pieces for newspapers in Europe that will inspire these artists to come here and get all the fame and fortune they want.”

 “Sure, Doug. You know I would do anything to help this place… and you of course”, Diana said while a wide grin spread on her face. She felt like she was moving up when in reality it wasn’t a new job position. She would do anything to not have the same indie bands playing almost every night. Diana would never have imagined that she would change the lives of four individuals barely six months later, and change her own life along with it.

Rome, Italy // Mid-March 1972

 “The Troubadour. The place where artists and bands from all over the world can make it or break it in the United States. It all depends on the crowd. If they love you, you can come back for an entire week! If not you will receive the money for that evening but sadly you won’t be allowed back. It’s always packed with record executives so you could get a sweet record deal out of this experience. Do you have what it takes? Sign up and good luck to everyone competing in the battle of the bands! – D. B.” Damiano finishes reading. “Ragazzi, I honestly cannot wait till we get to play there! It’s going to be veramente stupendo!”

 “Bene Damiano, calm yourself. It’s less than five months away. We still have to play in this dump to even afford to go. We barely have enough money for a motel, we don’t even have the plane tickets yet!” Classic Victoria, always worrying as if she is the mother of the group.  “Calmati Victoria, noi staremo bene”, Ethan jumps in. “Let’s get back to practising before we start another fight, sì?” The rest nods their head and pick up their instruments.  “I was thinking, should we start with I wanna be your slave oppuro no? Is it too much?” Damiano suggest.  “Oh, and for outfits, I have a few ideas?!” Thomas adds like a little kid who is excited for Christmas day.  “Positivo, let’s look at those after practice”, Damiano says. Not even ten minutes later they had many up a little setlist. It was a battle of the bands so they had to at least practice 4-5 songs to play against other bands. Then if they were allowed to come back they had to prepare yet another 6 songs on top of those 5 they had already played. They could do it, they had enough songs in their database but were they going to sing their Italian songs or did they have to translate them? The members of Måneskin weren’t sure yet. Luckily for them, they had four months to think about it.

West Hollywood, California // Mid-July 1972

Diana hadn’t even woken up yet, but on the other side of the city, Måneskin had arrived at the airport.  “Finalmente ci siamo. Ce l’abbiamo fatta!” Thomas exclaims. Damiano chuckles and throws an arm around Thomas’s shoulders.  “Slow down, loverboy. We have not made it yet. We landed yes, but we have a long way to go from here to that stage tonight.”  “How every grown-up of you, Damiano”, Victoria teases. “I bet with Ethan that you would follow the first American girl that you saw in this airport and that we wouldn’t see you until much later.”  “Ha ha, molto divertente, Victoria. Sei una persona così divertente.” They continue their bickering whilst Ethan collects all of their suitcases.   “Addiamo?” He finally asks the group, they all agree and make their way through the busy airport to the designated taxi area. During this, they complain about how crowded it is and how much the air smells. It is nothing like their own country but you have to take chances if you want to become famous like their dream.

Later that day

Doug had told Diana to come into work later than she usually would. It was going to be a busy night and he’d rather have her work during the performances than during the day and wear her out. So here she was around six-thirty instead of two o’clock. It felt so weird because usually when she arrives there is no line out front and now there was one to the end of the block. She passed all the people waiting in line, hearing them complain and moan as she walks up to Mario, the bouncer. He doesn’t even need to see her worker-id, as she walks in he wishes her good luck with tonight. She liked Mario, he was working here before she came and even then he had told her if she ever needed anything him and his wife had an extra bed for her. Honestly, the sweetest guy… also the toughest guy you will ever meet.

As Diana walked to the changing area to hang her coat and bag, she ran into a few participants of tonight’s show. She greeted most of them but they were too busy with themselves, the fame they hadn’t even earned yet was already rising to their heads. Before she could make her way to the bar, Doug called her over.

 “Diana, come here for a second. I want to introduce you to a few people.” Classic Doug, always introducing everybody to everybody. If he believed you could make it, he would introduce you to all his workers. However, the bands did not know this, the workers would treat them a little extra. “They are from Italy as well!” As if Diana herself had moved for their, it was actually her grandparents. She could speak a little Italian but other than her last name, there was nothing Italian about her. Doug briefly introduced the members of Måneskin to Diana, who couldn’t keep her eyes off a certain member. To be quite honest she had not remembered everyone’s names and she stumbled to get her name out of her mouth. All because she was already head over heels with this handsome, tall, young Italian man.

After a couple of introduction, Diana was finally behind her bar, her safe space. Meeting Damiano had made her weak in her knees, she had never had a reaction like this before. She didn’t really pay attention to the competitors and focused on serving the people but when it was Måneskin’s turn, she started to lose focus on her work.

During most of their setlist, Damiano kept glancing over to Diana and winking at her. Or at least that’s what it felt like for Diana. However, after a rather sexy song (let’s be real most of them are) he kissed one of his male bandmates on the mouth. Now Diana is not one to judge people on who they love. She reasons that everyone should love who they want to love and receive love because of it. It wasn’t that she hated it, it kind of turned her on, but she was very confused. Had she read the signs wrong? Were there even any signs to begin with? At times like these she wanted to ask Tami for help yet she was afraid that if Tami came and tried to help her that somehow Tami’s charm would work on Damiano and Diana would still end up with nothing. No, she had to do this on her own, she decided.

After the battle of the bands was over, a few stayed behind to talk with record labels about future arrangements. Diana started cleaning up, and washing and drying a few glasses, secretly listening in on a few conversations.

 “I liked what I saw out there. Let your agent call me and we will discuss your expansion in the United States.” Well, that sounded very good. Diana turned around to see who the band was that this man was talking to, but when she turned around she looked right into Damiano’s eyes.

 “I have been trying to get your attention all night”, he says shyly.  “Really? I thought so but I wasn’t sure”, Diana responds. Damiano raises his hand and scratches behind his head.  “I was wondering, you know. If maybe- ugh. Perchè è cosi difficile?” He mutters, not looking Diana in the eyes.  “Provalo in Italiano?” she suggests and Damiano’s eyes shoot up to meet hers.  “Cazzo. Parli Italiano?” He looks even more nervous now.  “Si, parlo Italiano.” He laughs at her answer.  “Vuoi uscire domani sera?” Diana nods her head, she honestly cannot stop smiling.  “I’d love to go out with you. Do you want me to pick you up at the hotel? That would be easier than you trying to find my house.”  “Yeah, sure. We’re staying at the Millwood Motel, it’s not too far from the airport.”  “Ah yes, I know that place. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He leans over and kisses her cheek before leaving her to finish her work.

That night Diana barely slept. Did Damiano know any places here to take her to? Did she have to come up with a place? What if he was some weird guy? What if he was a murderer?! She sure was happy now that she didn’t give him her address. The following day she woke up around noon. She went to the kitchen and grabbed her Cona coffee maker, if she was to get through the day, she was going to need a big cup of coffee. She put water and coffee ground on the lower half of the pot and put it on the stove. She hated having to watch the coffee boil and couldn’t wait for better times when you would just have to push a button to get your coffee.

Seeing that she woke up around noon, it didn’t take long before Diana met up with Damiano. She asked him if he had anything specific in mind. Surprisingly, he did. He explained that he and his bandmates did a little sightseeing and they walked past a roller skating rink. Damiano always wanted to try that and he thought this would be perfect for their little date. Diana absolutely loved the idea and couldn’t wait till they got there.

Both of them were sad that the night had ended so quickly or so they thought. It was in fact 1 a.m. and they had already spend ten hours together. Diana brought Damiano back to the motel with her car and of course he couldn’t leave without planting a kiss on her lips. They kissed for a while before finally letting each other go.  “We’ll be leaving soon”, Damiano said and looked at their intertwined hands in his lap.  “Already? You just got here two days ago”, Diana complained. She just met him and now he is leaving already? She wasn’t prepared for that. She knew he was leaving at some point, he had to he didn’t live in the US, but still she had hoped for a little more time together.  “Maybe we’ll come back soon. We have a meeting with our agent and that record label guy tomorrow.”  “Could we meet up after? We should catch dinner together, I have another day off”, she suggested. Damiano agreed, kissed her one more time before leaving her car and making his way to his motel room.

The next day

Diana waited for Damiano in front of a large building. She was enjoying the sun on her face when she felt two arms coming from behind and hugging her on her stomach.  “Ciao, amore mio. Sei adorabile oggi”, Damiano said into her ear before kissing the side of her face.  “Ciao, you don’t look to bad yourself”, she said as she turned around. She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on his lips, his mates cheering them on in the background. “How did it go in there?” With that question Damiano’s face broke out in a wide grin. “What?”  “Amore, we’re staying here in the US. We got a record deal, we will be here for the entire year!” he shouts and all five of them jump in celebration. “I was going to tell you at dinner, but I just couldn’t wait anymore. We can be together, amore.” Diana broke out in tears, nodding her head, for she had never met a man who she loved more than Damiano. Her Italian lover boy.

[what-the--curtains]

Not a Piece of Art

Part 1/4 - A Grudge Like No Other

(Javier Peña x f!reader)

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Summary: You’re tasked with an impossible mission and an even more impossible partner to complete it with.

Authors note: I have never not once seen narcos all I know if based on other fics I’ve read so pls be kind but let me know if anything’s wildly out of character! Also I’m aware forensics wasn’t a solid discipline (especially DNA fingerprinting) but we’re gonna pretend it is. Lemme know if you’d like to be tagged (or untagged) 😊

Tw: Mentions of fake parental death, swearing, mentions of sex

Word count: 4.1k

Tagged list: @agingerindenial @diogodxlot

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The morning sun radiates down on your shoulders as you lock the door to your apartment complex behind you. Despite the early hour it was already far too hot, but at least the humidity wouldn’t kick in until the afternoon. You’d been working in Colombia for a few months now, but the heat wasn’t something you’d ever get used to. You weren’t complaining, most days you preferred it to the frigid temperatures that painted your childhood. The frost bitten noses, wool socks and thick snow falls coating tree branches seemed all but a distant memory now. You’d settled on Columbia after your long time best friend Connie convinced you to take the universities offer. She had recently made the move down south and was eager to have you there with her.

She’d told you about the job and honestly, you wouldn’t be surprised if she had marched down to the university herself and dropped off your resume. She’d flown up to Brown and helped you pack up your life and then unpack it after your arrival to the terraced apartment Connie had picked out for you both to live in. It was a decent size and the balcony was south facing which gave you all day access to the sun. When you weren't working you spent your time out there soaking up the sun and watering the small garden you had been tending to since your arrival. Your days were primarily spent at the university working out the finer details of the forensics lab you were hired to set up. Your PhD in forensic anthropology has left you with various laboratory based skills, including DNA analysis, making you a coveted asset to the campus. Whilst in school you had also completed an art certificate which came in handy when facial reconstructions were needed.

After everything was in place you began running samples, processing unidentified remains by working on dental ID’s and facial reconstructions, as well as testing for drug residue. Despite being run by the University your job wasn’t as research based as you would have hoped with your work often falling under the DEA’s jurisdiction. You weren't involved in their day to day protocols. You mainly just ran the tests, or identified bodies recovered from the crime scene only conversing with them when it was absolutely necessary. Police work wasn’t in your wheelhouse, and it wasn’t a profession you supported or believed in.

Many faces passed through your workspace all demanding your utmost attention claiming their projects to be the most important. One frequent flyer through the lab was Steve Murphy, who Connie had met down in Miami a few years back. His relationship to your friend was the only reason you had bothered to make an effort with him. A friendship was established between the two of you faster than you had expected, due in part to his easy southern charm, but mainly because he and Connie evidently had feelings for eachother. You always found it easier to get along with men who weren't trying to get into your pants which was, unfortunately, a frequent occurrence in the male dominated discipline you worked in. There was only one flaw you could attribute to Steve, his work wife, the other half of the DEAs “dynamic duo”, agent Javier Peña. You’d never been formally introduced to the man, but his reputation preceded him. His was a face that also made frequent appearances in your lab but you'd never spoken more than three words to each other which was, probably for the best. You had what some might deem a confrontational personality and from what you understood Peña was, to put it nicely, an asshole.

He always came in sporting a more casual look and sunglasses which he kept on despite being indoors, a habit that drove you up the wall. He’d tap the file on the glass to get your attention always making you walk the five extra steps to get to him. You didn’t bother to look up when he passed the beige folders to you just grabbed the file from his hands and added it to the pile on your desk. He’d started attaching yellow sticky notes with “put a rush on” scrawled across them in impatient handwriting, as if his case was more important than the remains you were currently working on identifying. Not talking was a strategic move on your part, you’d heard he was quite the charmer when he needed something done, and you weren't going to let him get away with that. You ran this lab, not Javier Peña. Was your dismissal of him warranted? Maybe not, but your gut instinct was usually right and the rumour mill had painted Peña in a very specific manner. You weren't about to let yet another hot headed alpha male who took “too much male energy” to an entirely new level into your life.

Unfortunately, your knack for avoiding him became nearly impossible when you were called out to work on a crime scene. Despite your refusal to work in the field, the remains couldn’t be moved so you had to go to them. The site was just far enough away that a daily commute would have been tedious so you, along with the dynamic duo and your forensic team were booked into a nearby hotel. You weren't sure what you'd done in your past life to piss off the gods but somehow you’d ended up sandwiched between Steve and Peña. Steve wasn’t the issue, apart from the TV which you’d hear blare spanish dubbed reruns of Miami Vice between 4 and 8 PM, he was a quiet, considerate neighbour. Peña, on the other hand, was neither considerate or quiet particularly during the late hours of the night while you were trying to sleep. Sharing a wall with the agent proved to be an issue, so much so that by the third day just looking at him filled you with such intense rage that you'd given yourself lockjaw.

Every night without fail you laid awake as the exaggerated, bordering on ridiculous, moans coming from whoever he'd enticed into bed that night reverberated through your shared wall. You'd tried it all, earplugs, pillows so forcefully wrapped around your head you were essentially smothering yourself, but the sounds still permeated through the plaster and into your head. On the fourth night when you heard the talking start you knew what you had to do. You furiously wriggle free from your sheets and make your way out into the hallway. You walk one door over and inhale deeply before aggressively pounding your fist on the door.

“Hey” you say, through gritted teeth.

“Hey?” a slightly disheveled Steve murmurs eyes squirting into the hallway’s bright lights as his arms cross clumsily over his bare chest.

“Look I hate to ask but can I sleep on your couch, the walls are thin and...”

“And Peña has a thing for loud women '' he finishes for you, shoulders relaxing as he opens the door up for you “surprised you lasted this long, come in i'll grab you some pillows”

“Thanks for letting me sleep here, I think I may have killed him in the field tomorrow if I didn't get at least an hour of sleep. Also this isn’t some tactic to get you to bed so you can stop trying to cover your modesty” You say wiping your eyes, as Steve drops his arms to his side laughing.

“I know, believe me, besides i'm sure you're aware I’m only interested in one person.” So he did have a thing for Connie.

“You should go for it, I think she'd say yes” you offer, even in your sleep deprived state you were still a pretty solid wingwoman.

“You think?” His eyes light up, further cementing your belief that Steve, despite being friends with Peña, was a good guy.

“Thanks” you murmur as he hands you some pillows and a light sheet. It's not long before the AC’s quiet hum draws you into a deep sleep.

The alarm blaring out from Steve’s room pulls you from your dreaming state, groaning as you squeeze a pillow over your head. Why was it that you always felt worse after getting a good night's sleep? You briefly doze off again only waking as the smell of burnt toast convinces your brain that either a fire has started, or you were having a stroke.

“Tryna burn this place down?” you mumble, relaxing back into the couch cushions as you watch Steve scrape the burnt bits off into the garbage before buttering it and taking a bite.

“You think you got enough sleep to not kill my partner this morning?” he asks between mouthfuls.

“No, but I did get enough to realize if I killed him in the field there'd be witnesses” you remark pouring coffee into a cracked mug. “Thank you for letting me sleep here “

“Anytime, though Javi should be the one thanking me considering I basically saved his life. Lucky were leaving today or I’d have to put him into protective custody.”

“And I'll never have to hear him ever again” you say suddenly feeling a bit better. You were glad for Steve being so accommodating to your needs, especially considering he didn't really know you that well. “Well I should go get ready for the day ahead what it's supposed to be out?”

“A balmy 40” Steve offers, as he washes your cup up in the sink.

“Wow I should have packed my snow pants when I moved down here.” you dead pan, the delivery causing Steve to snort as you exit the room. As you exit, Javier opens his door kissing the woman he’d spent the night with one last time watching as she strides off down the hallway. You don’t see him, but he sees you. Specifically, he sees you leaving his partner's room, and in nothing more than an oversized t-shirt, he raised his eyebrows. Good for Steve from what he’d heard half the department had been trying to get your attention to no avail. Your head was always buried in paperwork and your ears were always donning headphones blocking out small talk, maybe he should take a page from your book. He didn’t say anything to Steve in the field, but he did watch you interact with one another. Paying specific attention to how you'd made Steve laugh while photographing the murder weapon. Javi watched as you meticulously gathered up a few finger bones that he'd overheard you saying would be used for DNA fingerprinting. He'd tried to talk to you a few times this trip, but the second he'd stepped in your direction he noticed your jaw clench and your body tense up, not wanting to upset you he decided it was best to back off. After getting what you need you packed up your things and headed back home, with no intentions of ever having to interact with Peña for more than 5 minutes ever again.

Several months later

Your lab was now contracted out full time by the DEA which meant you still got to do research but you didn’t have to teach any teenagers which was quite frankly a dream. Unfortunately, the contract meant you'd now be spending time in two male-dominated fields. The boys club offered little that would qualify as genuine friendship. Turns out the ones brave enough to approach you were only nice to you because they wanted to sleep with you. Something you’d found out after overhearing a less than true story about you from one of the guy’s you’d hooked up with. After that you’d stopped sleeping where you work and started looking elsewhere. Your few short lived romances were mainly found in dive bars only going home with people that had been thoroughly vetted (and vaguely threatened) by yourself, Connie and Steve. Who was now a relatively permanent fixture in your life after finally asking Connie out, and you really didn’t mind it. He was good to Connie and he never minded being excluded when you needed a girls' night without him. You also assumed the decrease in misogynistic talk amongst the agents was Steves doing, you made a mental note to thank him later, as you took another swig of the beer you’d been nursing for the past hour.

Steve was still inseparable from Peña and where he went Javi was sure to follow. Your inability to not become enraged by him meant you often found yourself leaving the room as soon as he showed up, subsequently cutting your Connie time in half. Devastating both you and her.

“You know he’s not really as insufferable as he acts” Connie states, Javi was due to show up any minute which meant it was just about time for you to leave.

“ You're not gonna sell me on this” you say, chewing on a stale nacho chip from food you’d ordered hours ago.

“Seriously, he's almost nice sometimes” your pointed look tells her to drop it. Connie was nothing if not resilient and you were constantly amazed by her. You don’t know how she worked as a nurse. You had a hard enough time with the dead, how she also dealt with the living as well was beyond you. She was a quantifiable saint which was probably why she saw the good in Peña.

“Remind me to never make you mad” Steve says.

“No one holds a grudge quite like her” Connie exclaims

“Awe you say the sweetest things about me” you retort after finishing the last of your beer.

“Alright well I’ve got an early morning shift so we should be heading out, tell Javi I say hi” Connie says kissing Steve before the two of you exit the bar.

“Are you really going to keep up this affront against Javi?” Connie asks, interlinking your arms together as you exit the bar.

“Yes, now please and can we stop talking about Peña even thinking about him gets me riled up”

“I thought you said you hated him” she teases causing you to roll your eyes.

“Please don't make me gag” you say pulling a face that causes you both to break into a giggle fit.

“What up her ass? Seriously, am I infectious or something?” Javi asks, slumping down across from Steve who's filling out paperwork at his desk.

“Well considering your history, probability is pretty high” Steve quips back earning him a thwack to the head with a folder you’d dropped on Peña’s desk earlier that morning.

“You know her, what's her deal, why does she hate me?”

“Everyone hates you Javi, it’s a fundamental part of your personality” Steve laughs.

Javier usually wasn’t one to concern himself with how others perceived him, but his work frequently overligned with yours and he figured his life would be made infinitely easier if he could get into your good books. Sure, at first his intrigue in getting to know you was purely physical. He knew looks aren't everything, but for what he wanted, they played a fundamental part. He wasn’t the only person to have noticed you the day you showed up, all eyes were on you as you walked through the DEA embassy for the first time. Your arrival had sparked a competitive energy amongst the men with the agents often vying over who got the honour of dropping off case files to you. A few were apparently even so lucky to have actually spent the night, at least that's what he’d overheard some agents proclaiming loudly, making him doubt their validity.

He’d cracked down on what some would call “locker room talk” when he thought you and Steve were sleeping together, after seeing you leave his room early that one morning. Though if Steve had been spending nights with you he’d never brought it up to Javi, and after he started dating Connie there never seemed a right time to ask about you, so he let it go. He’d gotten more proactive with stopping it once you’d been hired on full time. He’d upped his guard when he’d caught one trying to cop a feel of your ass the day you had been called in on your day off. You’d come in wearing a skirt shorter than what would be considered workplace appropriate gaining you more attention than usual. He noticed the guys hand drop down low, but any contact was stopped when Javi smashed the guys arm back into the wall behind him. In most cases a move like that would have earned him a swift punch to the face but a simple raise of his eyebrows was enough to get the pervert to sit back down.

Despite the scene playing out a few feet from you, you never noticed carrying on about your day as if nothing had happened, headphones on, paperwork in your arms and various scrawlings across your hand, reminders of meetings he knew you'd be late to anyways. He assumes your chronic lateness was a tactic to spend as little time around him as possible. Your hatred for him was palpable, he wondered if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to him. He'd noticed how you would stand in meetings when the only seat available was next to him. It was starting to get to his ego. He wanted to know what he possibly could have done to be treated like the scum of the earth by you. He’d heard from Connie that you didn’t like cops, but you got on fine with Steve. Your lives continued on with minimal interaction until the day you were called into the head of the DEA’s office.

“Office now!” your boss shouts from the door. Fuck. What have you done now?

“Hey you need something?” you ask, lips parted and forehead wrinkled, feeling like a child who’d just been called to the principal's office. Your head snaps to the left when you feel eyes boring into you, eyes belonging to Peña. He shifts around in the chair to escape your violent gaze. You turn to Steve who's gazing up at the ceiling.

“I have the dental results here for the missing persons from the case last week, it’s a match, I know it's late but...”

“It's not that,” he gestures his hand to the chair beside Peña and you sit, placing the documents down on the table. Javi cranes his neck slightly, eyes darting over the various statistics strewn across the page surprised you were able to piece it all together.

“You have an art degree right?”

“I have an art certificate” you correct

“and you paint”

“A bit”

“She was featured in local galleries back in the States” Steve pipes up.

“ Good, we need you to go undercover” you snort before laughing aloud. Your amusement quickly fades when you realize no one else was laughing with you.

“Wait you're serious? You want me... to go undercover? I'm not an agent, I can’t use a gun, I don’t think I've even held one before” you say, tearing through all the excuses you could think of.

“You can shoot a bow and arrow,” Steve pipes up.

“Ya very different instrument Steve, also does Connie tell you everything about me” he shrugs his shoulders.

“You won’t need a gun anyways, you'll have a trained agent with you at all times.” Your boss reassures.

“No. No way! Im sorry but this… this is beyond the scope of my work and my skill set” you assert, not budging.

“You’ve been to crime scenes before, you’ve been in dangerous scenarios, excavated mass graves, we need you you’re the only one who can help with this”

“Why? You have multiple agents out there who would kill to go undercover, why me?” you push

“ Your background, and relative anonymity. There's been an increase in art dealing amongst the sicarios.”

“So what? Maybe they just really like art.” you offer

“Does anyone really like art” Peña pipes up

“ Yes, the whole world actually” you shoot back, successfully shutting him up.

“We think they're using convincing fakes to smuggle drugs without suspicion” Steve offered, helping to clear up the situation.

“Okay... then hire an art expert to go in and see if the paintings are real”

“We need you to test for residue on the paintings, and to recreate one in time for the next move”

“Okay im good, but I am not good enough to recreate a painting worth thousands of dollars.”

“From what I’ve seen you are,” Steve says further cementing your fate.

“What if I say no?” you ask, exhaling deeply.

“Then you're fired” Javier pipes up, once again causing your head to turn to him.

“And who, pray tell, made you judge, jury and executioner” you spit “last time I check Javier Peña wasn’t the one signing my paychecks”

“No, but I am, and you will do this” Your boss's backing of Peñas statement makes the smirk on his face even more aggravating.

“Fine, but just know I will be personally mentioning you all in my will so everyone knows exactly who got me killed, and I'm gonna want a raise, more vacation time and a new piece of lab equipment if I make it out alive. ”

“Fine” you smile feeling slightly vindicated.

“So what's my story? Who am I to have a million dollar painting in my possession?” you ask, as your boss pulls up a document on his computer.

“You’ll go by Melanie Alverez nee Smith, you were born in London England to parents Maria and Calvin who passed in a car accident four weeks after your nineteenth birthday”

“Shit” you mutter, thinking about your own parents who were very much alive.

“You dropped out of Oxford where you were undertaking a degree in chemistry and moved to New York where you began painting. You were a struggling artist for the first two years but received funding to attend Julliard. After graduation your first major piece was accepted by a local gallery and put up for auction. It sold for 10,000$. The buyer wanted to meet you after seeing your photo. He’d sent thousands of flowers to your gallery before showing up and asking you on a date.

“Must be nice” you murmur

“After a whirlwind romance you eloped and moved down to Columbia where you continue to work as an artist.”

“Alright easy enough, short live romance is a good call that can be used to explain why we don’t know certain information about each other.”

“You'll be staying here” A huge spanish style house appears on the screen. Its prestige was only overshadowed by the mansion looming over it from across the private beach. Must be the target's house, you think.

“It was built by the target, he lives there with his fourth wife. He’s rich, sources claims from drug smuggling, they think he may even have direct links to Escobar

“Like, as in Pablo?” you ask, eyes widening.

“Apparently he’s his art dealer. We need you to go in and see what he knows, if it's not enough then test the paintings in their homes”

“And if they trace?”

“You'll give them the fake implemented with a tracking device so we can target its route.”

“Okay well I'd say easy enough but the threat of being murdered isn’t lost on me. Who's my husband anyways? Obviously he’s rich but did he tragically fall down the stairs and die, did I kill him?” you ask, smiling as Steve laughs.

“What?” you say looking up

“What...” you say as Steve refuses to meet your eyes as he chokes on his laugh.

“Well you haven’t killed him yet but I give it a week.” He responds.

“Who's my husband” you ask, again suddenly afraid and very aware that there were two men in this room, and one was currently laughing at you.

“Your lucky day sweetheart.” Your head turns comically slow to face Javi, the effect only causes Steve to snicker more.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” you whisper.

“This mission is anything, but a joke.” your boss interjects “If we can trace the arts movement it brings us one step closer to catching Escobar. I don’t know why there's animosity between you two and frankly I do not care. You two must work together. If you are to succeed you have to be believable. Study up on each others aliases the target hasn’t made it this far without being killed by being stupid. We’ve tried to get to him before with no success, he will be on high alert. You two will have to convince him, and his wife, that you’re sincere.”

[unearthly-space]

Lenny X Sean; Teaching Sean to read headcanons

Can this writing even be classified as headcanons? I got a little carried away. My apologies. Also - slight spoilers ahead.

Lenny found out Sean couldn’t read when he overheard the latter criticizing Mary-Beth’s love of books one night while drunk in Horseshoe Overlook.

“I jus’ don’ get it, Mary-Beth. What’s so in’eresting in those there pages that’s better than the world around ya? I never learned ta read and I’m all the more worldly for it. You should get your nose outta those books before you run into a fence and realize ten years have passed.”

Since then, Lenny has been pestering and pestering Sean about teaching him to read, not letting up no matter how many times Sean tries to rebuff him.

“Everyone should know how to read. Hosea and Abigail have been teaching Jack. Maybe they could help you too.”

“No way in Hell, boyo. I’ve been doing fine wit’out reading up till now and I don’ need ta start now, so just leave me alone.”

Lenny refuses to give up and he makes it known to Sean that he’s not letting it go anytime soon. Sean slowly begins to cave into Lenny’s incessant pestering about teaching him to read.

“Why won’t ya give up on me already? I ain’t worth it, Lenny. Just leave me alone. I’m sure dere is someone else here who you can teach instead.”

“You are worth it Sean, and I won’t ever give up on you.”

Sean doesn’t know what to say to those words, just drinks his beer instead of answering.

Sean finally agrees to try one lesson with Lenny and the two sit down at one of the camp tables away from the others.

“Look, see? S E A N. Sean.” Lenny spells out Sean’s name and sounds it out for the Irishman to hear as he used his pencil to point at .each letter.

“S E A N.” Sean struggled to replicate Lenny’s perfect handwriting, his own writing of his name much too big and lopsided with too much spacing between letters.

“Not bad for a first try, Sean.” Lenny smiled at the other in encouragement, but it only irritated Sean more.

“It’s not for me, I tried. Now I’m done.” Lenny’s smile dropped when Sean stood and marched away to the lean-to tent he shared with the Reverend.

After that first lesson, Sean begins to avoid Lenny for a good week despite the camp having virtually no privacy. Lenny tries to have a conversation with Sean with little effect. He ends up cornering the redhead on the edge of their camp, only to catch him while he’s taking a drunken piss.

“Sean, just try.”

“I did-*hic*-try. Now leave meh alone. I’m pissin’ here.”

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

“So what if I have?”

“Why?”

Sean grumbles and tucks himself away, turning away from the tree and crossing his arms.

“I like your face, and your kindness, and your hope. I like ya and it pisses me off, so fuck you and fuck your books and paper.”

“You...like...me?” It was a good thing it was dark or Lenny might have died from the embarrassed flush on his cheeks.

“Are ya deaf?” Neither says anything any more and Sean stumbles away, picking up another drink as he went.

Lenny needed to think.

They do end up continuing the reading lessons, but not for another few weeks and, by that time, the camp had been moved to Clemens Point. The horror show in Valentine and the move distracting everyone. Sean is surprisingly the one to bring it up again, asking Lenny in an embarrassment.

“You’re doing better. I knew you’d be a fast learner.” Lenny wouldn’t tell Sean how proud he was, it might just scare the man away from their lessons.

“Shuddup, you don’ know nothing but what you know.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means shut the fuck up teach me how to spell Karen’s name.”

Lenny laughs a little at that and they keep practicing.

Eventually, Lenny brings a book of poems to one of their lessons and it would soon be the first literary piece Sean would practice reading.

“My life had stood...a looo-load-”

“Loaded.”

“Loaded.” Sean repeats and continues. “Gun. In cor-corn-corners, till a day. The owner pass-ssed, id...iden..."

“Identified, Sean. You’re doing great, read the next few lines and we can stop for the day.”

“And carry-carried me away.” Sean would squint a glare as he growled out words, trying to sound them out and say them without asking for help. Stubborn baby boy.

“Keep going, you got it.”

“And now...we roam in sov-rei-gn woods, and now we hu-hunt the doe, and every time I speak for Hiiim, the moun-tains s-str-straight reply.”

“That was great Sean, we’ll finish the poem next time.”

“Can I go now?”

From there, Lenny just about manages to make Sean sit through a half-hour lesson almost every-day. They both never brought up the drunken confession (if it could be called that) since it happened until they finished one of their lessons and Sean (in Sean fashion), blurted out -

“Back...back at Horseshoe, I mean’ what I said. I liked, still do like, your face and how nice ya are and how giving ya are. You, Dutch and Hosea are de only people who’ve never given up on me. Just, t’ank you Lenny.”

“Sean-”

“I know, I know. I’m going-”

Lenny grabbed him and shut the redhead up with a quick and chaste kiss. “Your turn to shut up.”

“Will...will do.”

They keep their relationship a secret, of course, and continue the reading lessons. Lenny once took a spare tent and grabbed some pillows and blankets from their tents to set up a little make-shift hideaway in the woods surrounding Clemens Point. Not too far away from camp, but far enough to give them privacy. Lenny nabbed Sean right after dinner and showed him.

“Wh-What’s dis now, boyo? Got some’ting interesting in mind?”

“Not in that way, you pervert. Get in, we’re going to read together.”

“We’re...what?”

“Or I could read, and you could listen?”

They ended up laying in the tent with Sean’s head on Lenny’s chest as the younger man read a book aloud to him in the quiet night.

Lenny starts reading to Sean more often after that night, usually after dark and away from the others.

“You like it.”

“Shudup, ye old sop.”

Sean secretly loves listening to Lenny’s voice, but won’t ever admit it.

Arthur Morgan and Charles Smith knew about their whole relationship before they even knew.

Sean really does learn fast, and finished reading his first (albeit short) book not long before he has to leave the camp with Bill and Micah to meet Arthur in Rhodes. He kisses Lenny goodbye, the horses hiding them from view.

“I’ll see ya soon, boyo. Now don’t feel too lonely wit’out your MacGuire around to keep you company.”

“Be careful, at least. You can be such a hothead.”

“Ay, but I’m your hothead. I promise to be careful.”

“You’re lucky I love you.”

“I love you too, and when I’m back, ye can help me read a new book or, maybe, read that new one ye got to me?”

Sean’s body was brought back instead, thrown over the back of Bill’s horse like a ragdoll. The camp was heartbroken, but none more so than Lenny Summers. The book he had grabbed when hearing someone announce their arrival fell from his hands. It was the new one he planned on reading with Sean.

“Sean...you promised….”

For the remainder of his short life, Lenny never did read that book, nor did he read to anyone else. He only read when he couldn’t avoid it. What was the point without Sean? When he felt that bullet tear through him in Saint Denis, he almost smiled at the thought of seeing Sean again.

“Just one more time,” was his final thought as he took his last breath on that rooftop.

[keepthyfaithandthylight]

Reincarnation au part 4?

The week went by slowly but surely, and soon enough it was Friday night. Most everyone had gone out partying, including Georges who seemed to talk about only that the entire day.

“You’re not going out?” Max asked, watching his roommate dry his hair with a towel. Always how their conversations started in the evening.

“Nah, I don’t really feel like it. I’d rather just stay in honestly.” He answered, hair now wrapped in said towel.

“I see. Well I picked up some microwave food, which I know is not the healthiest option, but it’s something. If you want some, of course.” Max suggested.

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ll take some.” Antoine replied, focusing more of his attention on other things. Max nodded to himself, before sliding off of his bed and making his way over to his stash of food.

“You know, I was thinking maybe tomorrow we could go and find like.. a shelf or something. I know you have an entire bag of stuff under your bed that you haven’t gone through, some extra storage might be helpful.” He suggested, already putting the food in the microwave.

“Sure, I guess.” Came the hesitant response.

Maybe that’s a bad idea. We’ll see tomorrow.

“Alright, well I hope you like ramen.” Max commented, with a chuckle.

“Of course, it’s a staple of college life isn’t it.” Antoine replied. “Thanks,” he said, grabbing the cup of noodles from Max before sitting back on his bed. Max grabbed his own cup of ramen before settling on his own bed.

In the end they ended up turning on some cheap knockoff Netflix horror movie which managed to last until 10:30.

***

For once the entire week, Max was not woken by the strange remix of Chop Suey, but instead the sun shining directly in his face. Drowsily making his usual cup of coffee, he sat for a moment in thought.

“I knew you were up the moment I smelled coffee.” Came an amused voice from somewhere. Max jumped, nearly spilling his coffee, before glancing to his side.

“Oh, it’s just you. Sorry, forgot where I was for a moment.” He said, airily, and Antoine snickered very briefly.

“I noticed.” He said, with a carefully raised brow. “So, IKEA?” Max slowly lowered his cup of coffee at that.

“Why specifically IKEA..?” He asked, and a glint of mischief briefly flashed in Antoine’s eyes.

“Because,” he began, “have you ever tried to assemble a piece of furniture from ikea..?” He asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yes, it never goes well.” Max responded, with confusion.

“Exactly. But not this time, because at least I’m not putting it together on my own.” His roommate said, digging around and pulling out a t-shirt. “So, finish your coffee and get ready, we’re leaving right after.” Max raised an eyebrow as his eyes went wide.

“Not if I’m the one driving we’re not?” He replied.

“You’re not, I am.” Max groaned, before downing his coffee as quickly as he could, rushing around to get ready. As he stood brushing his teeth, he noticed the shadows under his eyes getting darker, or at least, darker than they were one week ago. Pushing the thought aside, he refocused on getting ready.

“Please tell me you obey traffic laws..” he began, emerging from the bathroom.

“I wouldn’t have passed the test if I didn’t.” Answered Antoine, walking out the door and into the hall, Max sighing tiredly before following after him. The air, at least, was slightly cooler outside to Max’s relief.

Ah, finally fall is coming soon. What a relief.

Max fell quiet before getting in the car, putting the seatbelt on and making sure it was extra tight.

“So you’re telling me you lived in this car for who knows how long..?” He asked, nervously.

“Uh.. yeah. That would be correct. Not like I didn’t clean it out when I got here, calm down.” Replied Antoine, who was more focused on actually starting the car.

“No, no, I have no doubt that you did. I’m just saying it’s.. kind of small. And you had a lot of stuff plus yourself-“ Max continued, weighing his points invisibly in his hands.

“Oh. Yeah, that wasn’t really enjoyable. It wasn’t all bad though, I could just turn on music and look out at the stars through the sunroof. That was the best part honestly. Everything else was shit, and don’t get me wrong I love this car but it is not ideal to have to live out of.” Antoine replied again, already focused on driving.

I won’t press the issue further, it had to be a pretty personal reason. No one just immediately goes to living out of their car after graduating.

The highway signs passed like sand in an hour glass, and soon enough they found themselves wandering through an ikea.

“How about these?” Max asked, pointing to some small shelves. “They’re small but I think they’d be able to hold quite a bit, plus there’s multiple.” He continued.

“Yeah, those could probably work.” Antoine replied, and without a second thought he was grabbing the box. Max stared wide eyed for a moment, before nodding and following him once more.

Once the shelves were actually bought, they traversed the large parking lot all the way back to Antoine’s car, putting the shelves in the trunk and making their way back. Max could tell he was in for a long day.

Once they were sat back in their dorm, with the materials scattered about the floor, Max made himself another cup of coffee.

“Do we have a screwdriver?” Antoine asked, from his spot on the floor, nose deep in the instructions.

“I don’t think so.” Max answered, apologetically.

“Maybe Georges has one, could you go ask him? I really hate to ask him of all people but..” his roommate trailed off, and Max nodded.

And so then Max was marching off towards Georges’ dorm, knocking on the door before he had any time to protest.

“What the fuck do you- Maximilien..?” Georges asked, clearly hung over.

“Hi yes-“

“Who’s at the door?” A woman’s groggy voice asked from somewhere in the room, Max immediately went expressionless.

Of course.

“Just some guy from my art history class, don’t worry about it!” Georges called back in response, before turning back to Max. “Anyway, how can I help you.” The latter cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I was wondering if you have a screwdriver I could borrow.” He asked, and Georges thought for a moment.

“Actually, I think I do, give me a sec.” he said, briefly retreating back into his room, before returning and slapping a screwdriver in Max’s hand. “There you go, man.”

“Thanks.” Max said simply, and made his way back.

***

“I have our screwdriver.” Max said, passing it to Antoine, before grabbing his beloved coffee.

How would I manage to have made it this far without caffeine.

“See?! I told you this time would be better!” Antoine exclaimed suddenly, with triumph clear in his voice. In front of him sat a set of surprisingly logical shelves.

“Nice, now to just put them in the wall.” Max responded, smiling tiredly. It had taken the entire morning and most of the afternoon, the sun was close to setting.

Who knew it took this long to put shelves together? Actually, it’s most likely because they’re from ikea.

Then his phone buzzed.

Camille:

Hey dude, Lucile told me to tell you she said hello.

Anyway, we have a date set. The wedding is going to be March 3rd.

Max smiled at his phone before typing out his response.

‘Alright, I’ll put it in my calendar. Thank you for letting me know.’

He put his phone back down, before passing Antoine a nail that sat on the floor.

“That might be helpful.” He said, with a warm smile.

“Oh, thanks.” His roommate replied, taking the nail from him.

Max couldn’t really be much help with actually getting the shelves up on the wall, so he simply stared out the window and drank his coffee. His third cup.

It was surprisingly quiet that evening, everyone was either away for the weekend, or staying inside.

Somehow, he missed the sound of rustling around in the bag, and only just now registered the sound of what he thought was sniffling. He turned away from the window, face wrought with worry.

“Are you.. ok..?” He asked, and Antoine nearly jumped, before coughing, the cough obviously being fake.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine I just.. dust. In my nose.” He responded, completely avoiding turning around to face Max. “You know what, I’m going to shower before I go through the bag.” Max watched still as his roommate made a beeline for the bathroom.

Alright, that's troubling.

Max wasn’t going to just go snooping around in his roommates stuff, he figured that if Antoine wanted to talk he would.

The evening was spent ignoring the issue, eating more Chinese food, and watching movies.

The moon shone in brightly through the single window that they were lucky enough to have, as Max sat on his bed. Beside him, he heard the sound of a sigh and the bag being dragged out from under the bed, it’s contents being carefully piled together.

“That’s a big difference from how you treated the other bags,” Max commented, with a raised brow, his tone as light as he could manage.

“Well yeah, the contents are fragile.” Antoine answered, laughing dryly. “They’re pictures.”

“I see,” Max added, nodding sagely. There was a pause.

“Did you.. want to see them or something..?” His roommate asked, and he stared back intrigued. “I don’t really mind, you know.” With that he slid off of his bed, sitting on his roommates when the latter moved a bit to give him room.

In a pile, there sat photos. Photos that Max felt wrong for looking at.

“Who is that?” He asked, pointing to the other person in the picture. It was a girl, and she was smiling rather brightly.

“Right… that’s my ex.” Antoine answered. “And the reason I was living out of my car.” Max fell silent.

“Are you.. are you sure you want me looking at these..?” He asked, and the other shrugged.

“Doesn’t really matter honestly. They’re from a time that at this point is long gone.” Antoine answered. “Oh, this one’s funny. That was at the end of one of the school years, I can’t remember which, she and I and a bunch of our friends all just.. kind of.. spontaneously went camping. May or may not have stolen a car, that’s also the first time we decide to use fake ID’s, it was.. very illegal. But it was fun. Just don’t tell the cops.” He said, holding a picture with a group of teenagers in the middle of the woods by a lake in swim suits. Two familiar faces stood out. “He actually ended up getting stuck in a tree. No idea how he got up in said tree but once he did he could not get back down.” The pair laughed a bit. Picture after picture, Max felt like he was almost intruding. “Oh, that was graduation, oh and this one is when we ended up getting an apartment, and.. that was last Christmas.”

“You guys seemed very happy,” Max commented absently.

“Yeah, I guess we were.” Antoine answered, silence fell once more and before Max could even speak, his question was answered. “But, her parents absolutely hated me. Why I have no idea, but.. because we ended up getting the apartment together I had nowhere to stay so I ended up just living out of my car. In case you were wondering.” There was a pause. “Not her fault, really, but.. honestly she was one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She was funny, too, and always so supportive. There’s no other person like her in the world.” Antoine rambled, voice clearly strained.

“You miss her, I can tell.” Max commented, brows knitted together. His heart hurt.

“Maybe I do, but it’s not like I’ll ever see her again.” Antoine answered.

“What was her name?”

“Thérèse.”

[curious-menace]

The rogue gallery members general reaction to encountering the batman who laughs and his creepy ass Robin's.

ok id like to preface this by saying that red death batman straight up crucified riddler and decapitated scarecrow and the batman who laughs is MUCH worse than red death batman. 

i want to enjoy the dark knights metal but it is needlessly fuckin complicated with all this multiverse oververse omniverse shit. maybe i just don't have the galaxy brain necessary to get it so i apologize if this is all wrong 

(also i know its canon that the batman who laughs has no rogues gallery left, either because he killed them or joker killed them before he turned but hey ho hypotheticals it is)

also no one talk to me about kiss fan lookin riddler from this verse. im not ready. 

Penguin

i think his first reaction was to laugh. Batman’s finally gone and he took joker with him. I mean he literally calls him "bat gimp". I seriously doubt he anticipated the fallout of batman becoming some sort of hideous joker hybrid. he still chuckled when he started seeing the news. someone calling themselves “the batman who laughs” and “the darkest knight” then he sees the robins, he even recognises damien and it makes him a little sick. he books the next flight out of goodwin before things get too hot. 

shame goodwin was burned to the ground to stop anyone leaving gotham. 

with everyone inside. 

Twoface

i dont think its an exaggeration to say he was absolutly fuckin horrified. it's rare that harvey and two face agree on something, but this bastard has to go. the murder and mayhem he could tolerate, hell even killing the other rogues, some of them needed to be stopped. but having to look at this creature and know it was once bruce? harvey knows better than anyone its a fate worse than death to be trapped in your own mind with someone else running the show. they do their best to stop the darkest knight, bring all the hired guns they can to the fight but it wasnt enough. Harvey dies, but at least he went out trying to do the right thing.

Poison Ivy

She sensed him coming, her flowers screaming at her to save herself. part of me wants to hope she took one look at that abomination and noped the fuck out of there to slaughter swamp or something. but we know ivy, she stands her ground like a tree planted by a river. she looks people like batman and joker right in the eye and down the barrel of a gun and says “no, you move” Shes not a good person, but in this verse she might as well be the hero of the story, maybe the only meta human in gotham who stood a chance against him. The batman who laughs was scared of her and thats why she had to die. if she’d just minded her own business she might still be here but no. She dares the batman who laughs to come for her, she’s going to take him out. for what he did to her plants, to gotham, to HER home and HER friends. unfortunately for her ivy was one of the first on his kill list. She doesn't go down without a fight. ironically it was her human qualities, the human drive to help people that got her killed. she heard one of the robins crying and went to investigate. the batman who laughs doesn't care about those robins, he’s got a basement full of jokerized kids to throw at people. 1 to trick her and a few more to hold her down while he doused the lot of them with weedkiller and gasoline then poof.

i doubt the botanical gardens will ever be the same. 

Scarecrow

part of me wants to say he’s loving this. He’s enjoying all the suffering and sadness and fear as the batman who laughs murders everyone and everything from the dandelions upwards . but he cant, not just because he’s not the one causing it. this is fear without meaning or purpose, this is killing hope so thoroughly that there is nothing left for people to fear, not even death. he’s not so foolish as to think he wont also be on the batman who laughs chopping block. so he makes himself scarce, works on a toxin that might be able to stop him or even slow him down so someone has a shot at it. Jon knows hes going to die, its only a matter of time before that thing calling itself the darkest knight sends one of his minions to his doorstep. He’s been working on something to try and help the rabid robins. he has a small soft spot in his cold obsidian heart for kids and looking at these creatures makes him physically ill. 

he thinks hes made a breakthrough, thinks he’s finally got a formula that will effect batman and the joker and hopefully, whatever abomination they’ve become . he decides theres no time like the present to try it out when word of the other rouges deaths reach him. he’s the last one left and thats....well its scary. His surprise attack works, the robins go down without a fight, screaming and scratching at their faces, their throats and each other. regrettable but if he stops the darkest knight now, maybe jon can help them. Just when he thinks he’s got him, scarecrow goes down. so close, he falls at the finishing line, his toxin having as much effect as a gentle summers breeze. Much like the original scarecrow , the batman who laughs likes using guns. For jon however? he makes an exception. poor scarecrow gets eviscerated by his own scythe, pilfered from arkham asylum by the batman who laughs. gotta love the classics, right?

Riddler

Riddler was second on his kill list. only because the batman who laughs knew how much it would annoy riddler not to be at the top. He’s another rogue who stood a chance of stopping him if he really tried. sadly edward is nowhere near as altruistic as harvey, and could never be as strong as ivy. He likes to think his escape is for everyone's benefit. live to fight another day and all that. He learned from harvey and pamelas mistakes, took one look at this new batman and his creepy kids and said “fuck that noise” and tried to run. except he didn't really try. god if he’d only gotten out of the city, he would have been the only rogue that survived. the batman who laughs looks at him like a pathetic insect, unworthy of notice. he’d have killed riddler eventually, maybe put him in a riddle with no answer or a trap with no escape for extra irony points but he wasn't about to stop the little green cockroach from skittling away.  but of course, riddlers ego got in the way; he just HAD to try and best this new batman, no matter how much he scared the shit out of riddler he just HAD to try. and of course, pride comes before downfall. 

The batman who laughs helpfully provided riddler with some rope to help break his fall. 

Harley Quinn

some part of her was happy to have joker back. he was different, scarier but she was used to the abuse. what she wasn't used to were all the kids. she recognised damian wayne but didn't quite put the pieces together to realise it was bruce under there. she thought maybe he was just a random casualty . she tried hard to look after the kids but they act like animals rather than humans, there was nothing she could do.As time went on she found it harder and harder to sit at the right hand of this clown prince of horrors. harley has always been along for the ride, but how are you supposed make the whole world laugh if everyone in it is dead? i dont know what happens to harley in this world. either she leaves and much like joker, the batman who laughs fails to notice, shes killed by him because he was bored or she does when the world is destroyed by barbatos. either way, no happy endings here. 

Thanks for this incredibly depressing ask Ghostly T-T

im kidding, im kidding it was fun! it makes me wish i knew what the everloving FUCK was going on with this verse so i could enjoy it properly. the only comic store i know of has been closed since like march of last year and i don't know what im looking for on amazon to actually order them. i have 1 issue of nth metal but it was interesting enough that i want the collection.

if anyone knows what the collection is actually called hmu bc i wanna buy it. 

yes i could read it online but i like owning the hard copies. 

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙🧡💛💚❤️

[doodlingstuff]

Neil’s (fake) B-day

Let’s celebrate my boy’s birthday with some fluff :)

All likes, shares, kudos and comments make my day shine. Thanks for reading ❤

***

( Chapter 14 of Comeback)

Andrew was definitely allowing himself to get carried away by Neil’s joy, otherwise, there is no logical explanation as to why he is driving the pipe dream towards the stadium instead of Fox Tower after he got Abby’s clearance to get back to classes. They could be using each other time’s in more pleasant ways, but then again, Neil loves his newfound family and all their nonsense. And Andrew is no one to take that away from him. Even less after everyone thought they’d lost him for good. Twice.  

Matt’s massive truck and Allison’s hideous atrocity are already there when they arrive. Neil is still too unsteady to walk that much from the parking lot to the court on his own, and he is too stubborn to use any walking aid, but Andrew has proved his talent as a reliable walking stick, so he lets the striker hold to his arm and squeeze it all the way.  

As Andrew knew beforehand, the lounge is covered with streamers, balloons, confetti, and an enormous Happy Birthday sign.  

Every Fox approaches Neil with a big smile. Some dare to pat him on the shoulder and Matt ruffles his hair. Almost everyone gives him presents and of course, the boy looks lost. He turns to see Andrew, but it wasn’t his idea, so he won’t make it easy, although there is the faint ghost of a smile trying to break free as Neil gets more and more confused.  

 “Happy birthday kid.” Coach is the last one to approach and the striker finally finds it in him to talk.  

 “Thank you? It’s-It’s not my birthday, tho”

  His comment is received by a well-deserved couple of pairs of eye rolls.  

 “Some things never change, do they?” Aaron asks. Her cheerleader shushes him with an elbow on the ribs. Maybe Andrew doesn’t hate the woman that much after all.  

 “Sweet baby, don’t tell me you forgot your own birthday,” Nicky says.  

 “It’s March 31, Neil! We promised you a party!” Matt follows with one of his brightest smiles.  

 The auburn-haired turns to look at Andrew as if he’d had any part in that. He was only the driver and his attention is drifting away from the happy reunion as he eyes the big cake on the back. That may be worth the bother.  

 “Told you my birthday was in January,” Neil says, clearly uncomfortable.  

 “And you were getting killed then.” Allison goes on. “You deserve a birthday party. Even if it’s not your real birthday.”  

 “But-”  

 “Lookit this way,” Nicky interrupts. “You get to celebrate twice every year. Sounds like a dream.”  

 Neil looks like he wants to keep arguing, but  Wymack   steps in before. “Shut the fuck up before I get sick. These morons made you a party. Enjoy it and stop looking like a stray cat for once.”  

 The next argument in Neil’s tongue dies as everyone starts to roll food around. They are smart enough to restrain themselves from singing and the cake finally arrives. Since the junkie is happy talking to everyone and watching wide-eyed all his presents, Andrew can distract himself by seeing how many slices of birthday cake he can eat before getting sick of it. As if that was possible. It’s easier for Kevin to die from diabetes just by watching.  

 "Alright. Time to get serious.”  Wymack   is clapping to get everyone’s attention after they all are stuffed and ready to pass out. It takes almost fifteen minutes for the team to clear their heads and gather in the sofas around their Coach.  

 “As you know, we are too far away to have a normal championship, but after how things unfurled for the Ravens,” He spares a brief glance towards Andrew that the twin dismisses “They decided to get them back to their original district. That said, championships will be only a single round of deathmatches to be played on the same day. Winner teams will be qualified by points scored. The two best go directly for the championship and the rest can wait until next season.”  

 “I still don’t know which team we will be facing but from now I tell you that for once, it doesn’t matter the score. This year had brought a shitload of problems I hope I never have to face again, but we made it to this round, so  let's   take the chance as best as we can and keep showing we are not a joke anymore.  

 Wymack   is faster to keep talking before his shortest striker speaks “As for you Neil, don’t even expect to play more than five minutes. You are allowed back to practices, but I will strangle you myself if you pull another fucking stunt in the court. Depending on how you do and in the remote chance we pass, I might think about letting you play the full final match. Doubts?”  

 Everyone shook their heads or deny. Andrew can’t take the perspective of getting back to practices, but Neil is radiating energy only with the perspective of five minutes on a match, so he abstains from complaining as Kevin starts talking endlessly about every single plan and strategy he’s plotted during the past months.  

 Andrew can’t wait to get out of there, but if Neil is happy, he can stay a bit longer.  

 Campus is swollen by darkness when they get out of the gathering. Nicky spends the short ride speaking, as he always does, and Kevin is making a tantrum from traveling in the back. Andrew can’t care less. If he doesn’t like it, he can walk to Fox Tower or catch a ride with the rest.  

 When they arrive at the building, Andrew takes Neil’s duffel bag and motions towards the elevator. The junkie is about to protest, but he is finally learning to tell when he’s tired and the night hasn’t ended for them, so he steps into the elevator.  

 Andrew has the door of the dorm open for Neil. They step in and the blond makes way to the bedroom. He dumps the duffel bag on the bed and looks for the things he stuffed in there before heading out.  

 “Wait.” There it goes. The cogwheels inside the junkie’s brain finally move. Nicky and Aaron pause their silly game to see “This is not my dorm.”  

 “It is now.” Neil looks for the lie in Andrew’s eyes and then he sees Nicky laughing as bills pass between him, the other twin, and even Kevin.  

 “You are such a cute thing. Andrew kicked Aaron out as soon he knew you weren’t dying.”  

 Neil  looks   startled from Nicky’s gigantic smile to Andrew’s shrug. They had shared enough nightmares and had slept together so many times for it to be a scandal, but it was until then when the blond realizes he didn’t ask. He just acted out of spite because he wanted to have Neil close.  

 A big smile spreads on the striker’s face and then he follows Andrew to the roof.  

 After three cigarettes, Andrew still can’t find how to get this over with. They had talked about bigger demons before. They had  shared   more intimacy. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Still, his voice is almost scared when he talks.  

 “Enjoyed your party?”  

 Icy eyes send a wave of shivers down his spine. “I guess. I’ve never had one.”  

 “And you won’t ask me why I didn’t get you a present?”  

 “Do you want me to? I don’t need presents. And you had given me much more.”  

 “Then shut up.” He says and finally drops the contents of his pocket in Neil’s hands.  

 Minutes pass before the striker can talk again. “My phone and keys.”  

 “You left them on purpose.” There is a hard swallow traveling down Neil’s throat.  

 “Told you I never thought I’ll stay. And... I couldn’t be Neil Josten in the Nest. If I took these, they would’ve been more reminders of the life I couldn’t have anymore.”  

 “You have it now.” The official IDs sent by Kengo are still unbelievable to Neil. He nods as he grips the objects in his hands. The proofs that he is real, that he didn’t come out from Andrew’s drugged mind and he will stay. Probably.  

 “And this is your present.” The blond drops a packet of cigarettes in Neil’s lap. He looks bewildered and attempts to give them back.  

 “Abby says I shouldn’t smoke again.”  

 There is no point in explaining things to the pretty idiot, so Andrew settles for looking at him until he opens the damn box and takes out a couple of pieces of cloth.  

 “You want me to sew your socks?”  

 “Don’t be stupid,” Andrew replies while pulling up his sleeves. Maybe Neil can get the hint that way.  

 “Armbands?”  

 “It’s already hot as fucking hell and you keep wearing long sleeves.”  

 Realization crosses fast through his face. If the junkie thought Andrew wouldn’t notice he didn’t want the scars on his wrists on display, he was even dumber than how he looked.  

 “Thank you,” The red-haired says while slipping the pieces of cloth through his hands.  

 Words are burning Andrew’s throat worse than the smoke of his sixth cigarette. He doesn’t want a      no    , but he knows he won’t be in peace if he doesn’t ask. “Will you stay now?”  

 “I haven’t gone anywhere.”  

 The blond only spares a glance at Neil. He doesn’t want to explain. However, as silence stretches, he knows he needs to make sure the point is understood just in case Neil is indeed stupid or Andrew hasn’t been clear enough.  

 “Last year I told you to give me your back and stay. You ran away and did the exact opposite. You’re not in danger anymore. The promise stands. I’m just asking again.”  

 A wild river clashes with sweet honey. For the first time in a long, long while, Andrew can’t tell what hiding those eyes are hiding. He is the one with the blank expression, not Neil. Silence keeps growing between them. The blond is sure he talked too soon. He is expecting the dream to vanish because it has been a big strike of consecutive good weeks and nothing lasts forever. He doesn’t forget that.  

 “Your memory isn’t so perfect after all.” Andrew is startled by the comment. Of course, it is. A fucking burden he never asked to have. A good thing when it comes to Neil and the bright  smiles   he gives. The twin starts digging if he had any other slips like the room swap without asking first, but he can’t find any. “I said yes. Always yes.”  

 “It was a different question.” Relief spreads as he speaks.  

 “But the answer is always yes.” The blank stare is quickly replaced by a big smile.  

 Andrew knows he has to tell him that always can’t be his answer for everything, that there will be times when it’s no, that he will respect any change of mind, that he doesn’t want to force it, that he is afraid everything is still an illusion, but Neil is so close and he has talked so much, that the only thing he manages is a soft growl as the striker´s lips are near his neck, and then, every objection gets drowned in a kiss.  

“One condition,” Neil says when they part. “You don’t protect me. We protect each other.”  

Every complaint dies even before Andrew can voice it because it is true.

Before Neil said it, he gave his life willingly for Andrew, and the blond had turned the world upside down in a week to keep the pipe dream safe. The promise was fulfilled before it was made.  

Regardless, it’s the first time someone says to him anything like that, and it fills his chest with something so powerful and strange that he isn’t sure if his life is really this good. Perhaps he died in juvie, or in Thanksgiving, or in Easthaven, and this is all a weird fantasy created to bear the boredom of being in hell.  

When they return to the dorms, neither asks before getting inside the same bed to fall asleep with their fingers intertwined.  

 If always feels like this, Andrew can get used to having it.  

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hello there, I don't know if your taking requests, if so I'm in desperate need of some mean Alfie, like the readers brother can't pay Alfie back what he owes so Alfie threatens him. So she storms into Alfie's house to give him a piece of her mind. And he is fuming first and basically tells her to get lost. But has a change of heart last minute and calls her back to make a deal. Maybe that she will go on a date with him😀 id love if you could include the date in the story but if not that's fine to. I think your a fantastic writer and I just wanted to let you know how much I love your work.

//Oh my lord I did NOT mean to get this carried away.

            Jane’s younger brother was a nuisance. At least, that’s what the neighbors said. Jane would call him…troubled. He found himself in a group of unsavory young men who liked to cause trouble in the neighborhood.

            Jane prayed that it was just a phase that he would grow out of. However, he was twenty, and she figured he ought to know better by then. She didn’t blame him for being so rebellious. Their parents had both died from the Spanish Flu. They left behind five children. Alex was the youngest, twelve at the time of their death, Lucille was sixteen, Bernard was twenty, Jane was twenty-two, and Isabella was twenty-four. They all tried their best to be a complete family after the tragedy, but it was so difficult. Especially when Isabella married just six months after, Lucille married two years after, and Bernard left for America four years after.

            From then on, it was just Jane and Alex. She loved her younger brother dearly, but he was such a handful. His behavior escalated from getting in schoolyard fights to committing petty crimes. It was exhausting trying to keep up with him.

            Finally, he made the ultimate mistake and came home with a black eye as a prize.

            “What happened?” Jane gasped when she saw the state of her brother. He was hunched over, clutching his side, his face was swollen and bloodied.

            “M’sorry.” He mumbled.

            “Alex, tell me what happened. Who did this to you?” She demanded.

            “Alfie Solomons, his men did it.” He winced in pain as he tried to sit down on the sofa. “I owe them some money. I can’t pay it though.”

            Jane spent all her time working to provide for herself and her brother. She had no time to gossip or listen to people whisper about the famed gangster of Camden Town. So, she had little clue what sort of power the name held. “This is ending here and now.” She decided firmly. “I will settle this bet with Mr. Solomons if you go out and get a proper job and stay out of all this-this nonsense!” She snapped, finished with Alex’s behavior.

            It seemed that the interaction with the Camden bakers had scared the young man well enough that he was willing to put that way of life behind and start on the straight and narrow. He nodded frantically. “But you can’t go to see him.” He warned. “Give the money to Richard, he’ll get the money to him.”

            Jane wrinkled her nose in disgust at the mention of Alex’s friend. She had a sneaking suspicion that he was the one who lured Alex into a life of crime. “No, I’ll do it myself. I don’t trust him.” She decided with conviction. She began to go upstairs to get her savings that were hidden under the floorboard.

            “No, Jane, listen to me!” Her brother urged. “Alfie Solomons is a fucking psychopath. He kills people for sport. I ain’t gonna let you go near him.”

            “If he’s willing to kill someone over a couple of pounds, then that’s his problem. I’m not afraid of someone who will bully a twenty-year-old. Now go and put a cloth on your face to put down the swelling.” She ordered.            

            Alex looked worried but knew he wasn’t able to talk his sister out of anything. He could only hope that she would find Alfie on a good day.

 ~~~~~~~~~

            Jane marched into Camden Town with fire in her eyes. She had two pounds in her pocket, almost two months of work for her, but her family came first. Alex could work back the debt he owed to her later. She would much rather this be a learning experience for him, something to shake him awake and put him on the right path finally.

            She found the address where Alfie Solomons’ office supposedly was. There, a young man was keeping guard in front of double doors.

            As she approached, he straightened up. “Can I help you?”

            “I’m here to see Mr. Solomons.” She replied.

            “Do you have an appointment?”

            “An appointment? What is he, the bloody king? No, I’m here to pay back my brother’s debt.”

            “Hang on, stay here.” He went into the large building and left Jane waiting. As she waited, she felt people watching her. People passing by seemed to take notice of anyone unfamiliar to the area, especially someone who was lingering around the bakery of Alfie Solomons.

            A few minutes later, the doors opened again and the man beckoned her inside. “You armed?”

            “Armed? No, of course not.”

            “Do you mind if I check?”

            “Yes, I mind, keep your hands to yourself!” She snapped.

            “Yeah, see now I know where your brother has got that attitude from.” A voice boomed across the hallway leading into the bakery.

            Jane looked to see the man himself. Broad-shouldered and walking like a soldier, he came into view in the dimly lit area.

            “Pardon?” She wasn’t used to such a brash greeting.

            “You’re Alex’s sister, ain’t ya? Look a lot alike, you two. Act similarly too. Figures as much. Boy who can’t keep his mouth shut looking up to a woman who can’t keep her mouth shut.” He stopped in front of her.

            At first glance, Jane didn’t see what all the fuss was. He looked and dressed pretty simply, nothing outstanding. But then she started to pick up on the small details that made him who he was. The gold rings, the bracelets, the tattoos, the scars.

            “Here.” She pulled the money out to give to him. She wasn’t going to waste her time on this man.

            He tutted as he took the money from her. Looking at the amount as if she were merely throwing a few coins his way. “Oh, dear, this ain’t enough, love.” He shook his head as if disappointed.

            “That’s what my brother gave you. That’s what he owes you.” She insisted.

            “Something called interest, sweetheart. S’been over two months since I loaned your brother the money. So, his debt has been racking up interest, m’fraid. Nearly double this by now.”

            Jane’s blood boiled at his audacity. “How dare you?” She hissed. “Who are you to act like some big shot who owns the world, aye?”

            “It’s just business, love. If you don’t like it then I’m not sure why you’re even here. This is your brother’s debt, not yours. Shows what sort of man he is, having a woman settle his debts.”

            She was seething at his cool demeanor. “Because I look after my family. We care for each other even when one of our own has made a mistake. It’s a shame you don’t know that Mr. Solomons. That just means you have no love in your life. That’s quite sad actually.”

            His relaxed façade began to melt right in front of her eyes. “Aye? Who the fuck do you think you are that you can come into me business and speak to me like that?” He stepped towards her, his hand gripping a slender wooden cane.

            “You had my brother beaten because of a couple of pounds. It doesn’t look like you even need that money. You seem to be doing fine on your own. Or is that how you make your fortune? By threatening people’s lives so they’ll give you money?”        

            Alfie’s eyes narrowed. “That’s the way the world works. If you don’t like it, you can jog on. Let your brother handle it.”

            “My brother will have no more dealings with you, Mr. Solomons. You can either take the money that I’ve given you or take nothing at all. My family isn’t giving you another cent.”

            Alfie chuckled darkly. “So, you make the rules then, is that right? That’s funny that is. Little girl coming into my bakery to tell me what to do. That’s brave of you, innit?”

            “I don’t hide behind other people. I’m not a coward like you.” She spat. “I don’t care who you are or what you’ve done. You’re going to leave me and my brother alone.” She went to turn around but Alfie’s voice chased her.

            “And would you care if I had your brother shot in the street?”

            Jane spun around with anger radiating off her. “You are a monster.” Her voice raised louder. “If you ever even want to think about hurting my brother, you’ll have to go through me first.” She snarled before finally taking her leave.

            Alfie frowned to himself. What was this feeling? Sympathy? Empathy? Amusement? Here was this beautiful woman who came storming into his life, ready to fight for her brother. She wasn’t afraid of him in the slightest and was true to her values. “Hold it.” He yelled after her.

            She stopped and turned with her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t say anything, just waited for him to speak.

            “Here.” He walked over to her and handed the money back. “What’s your name?”

            “Jane.” She replied, eyeing the money suspiciously.

            “Well, Jane, you must know that you’re much braver than most men I’ve met. Other people in your position would be shaking in their boots. None of them would talk to me the way that you just did.” He said with a gentler tone.

            She was a bit unnerved by the sudden change in his demeanor. There was no telling what his motive was. “That sounds like a compliment.”

            “It is.”

            “So, because I stood up to you, you’re going to give me back the money?” She raised an eyebrow.

            “Call it an appreciation of your courage.”

            Jane glanced over her shoulder at the door then back to him. “What are you playing at?” She questioned.

            “No game, love. But, figure you see the same type day in and day out, yeah? Men, well can’t really call them men, boys really, who come in and out of your office, whinging on about this and that. Shaking in their boots ‘cause they’re so fucking terrified of mean ‘ol Alfie Solomons.” He pointed to the door. “Then, in comes a woman who is ready to take up arms for her brother against someone like me. Refusing to compromise. Well, something you wish you could see a bit more, innit?”

            Jane felt herself relaxing a bit. Behind the scary façade of a gangster was really an oddly charming man. “Well, I’m sorry to say but there isn’t anyone like me.”

            That got a laugh out of Alfie. “Fucking hell, you really are something else. You’re right though, ‘bout a one in a million I’d guess.”

            She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “Okay, well…if you ever see my brother again, tell him to trot on. I don’t want him to go down the same path as…”

            “As me?” He raised an eyebrow.

            “I don’t mean to be rude.” Jane blinked. Why wasn’t she berating this man who had threatened her brother? Why was she staring back at him? Why was the way he was looking at her so endearing?

            “And what am I meant to do if I run into you again?” He inquired as if it was just a casual question.

            “Well…should we run into each other again, I should hope it’s because you’re trying to mend things. A gesture of condolence for your behavior.” She replied steadily although her heart was beating unnaturally fast in her chest.

            The corner of Alfie’s lip turned up. “Well, that’s very good to know. This condolence, would dinner be good ‘nough?”

            Oh, what a hypocrite she was. Admonishing her brother for dealing with lowlifes and now here she was entertaining the idea of going out with one of the most dangerous of them all. But there was something about him that was so alluring. “Perhaps. If you’re on your best behavior.”

            “Well, I happen to think I clean up nicely. I can mingle with the toffs just as well as anyone. ‘Specially if it means making a beautiful woman happy.”

            Jane felt her face go red. Things had taken such a drastic turn, she wondered if she was imagining it all. “Then I suppose it’ll be alright if you take me out.” She gave him a number to call.

            But before she took her leave, she asked one more question. “Is it your charm that gets you out of trouble?”

            He chuckled and shook his head. “Love, I am trouble.”

[wardencommanderrodimiss]

So, playing Path of Radiance today, and being introduced to Soren, I had some bizarre personal revelation, and I invite you all to join me down memory lane on a very long, elaborate tale.

I know halfway through this you’re going to have forgotten where we started and be like “Roddy stop talking about your neurotic childhood playing Pokemon, what the fuck does this have to do with the character Soren from Fire Emblem: Path of Radiance, the ninth installment in the Fire Emblem series--” and I promise you it all comes full circle in the end. 

So to start, check out my Rayquaza from Ruby, the first Pokemon game I ever played, and his nickname.

I have a Rayquaza named Sorenn. (Second “N” added by me to avoid copyright claims or commit tax fraud, or actually just to pretend I was original because I was a kid at the time.)

I love him. He’s one of my handful Ruby babies, from a game where I only used and got attached to a few Pokemon, but man did I get attached once I did. He’s the only one of them with a nickname, and he’s had it since I caught him.

So, the name “Soren”, where was I borrowing that from? Good question. As a kid, I read the book series Guardians of Ga’hoole, which is about warrior owls, and the main character is named Soren. ...but my Sorenn is not named after that character, not directly, not by me. The first of those books came out in 2003, but I didn’t start reading them until probably 2007 or so.

I think...most likely, my Sorenn is named after Soren from Path of Radiance, a game which I of course literally just started playing today. And I think it’s likely, but I can’t know for sure. Yeah, I really don’t know what my own Rayquaza is named after, but it could be for a character from a game I never played. This seems on brand - the fact that it’s bizarre, convoluted, and a long explanation that gets weirdly personal right out the gate.

I was a neurotic kid when I was young and it came to Pokemon. I had a very “if I die in the game I die in real life” kind of attitude and I would...basically have anxiety attacks at the thought of losing a battle in the game. The thought of having a Pokemon faint instilled me with terror - whiting out would be unthinkable. I wish I was making a joke or exaggerating, but I still have clear, distinct memories of the sobbing mess that the rival battle at Nugget Bridge/Cerulean City left me. I don’t know why I became this way, or what made me stop, because I did, but my playthroughs of Ruby and FireRed were marked by this sheer panic at the thought of making a mistake. It took me years to get through FireRed because I was paralyzed by terror.

My childhood neuroses are yes, somehow relevant to the nickname of one of my Pokemon, because my inability to play the game own my own is where the two other people involved in my story come in - my brother, and a kid he knew who we’ll call J. J was the only person we knew (other than our cousins who live 7+ hours away by car) at the time who played Pokemon. He was a bully to my brother, too, and eventually my brother managed to cut ties with him and find better friends, but at the time, Bro would go over to his house to play Pokemon, and sometimes I would come along. 

J had many more games than we did, Pokemon and otherwise - he had a GameCube and Pokemon Colosseum, too. He played a lot, and restarted a lot, and didn’t really have too many sentimental attachments to his Pokemon, so he gave a lot of them away and never asked for them back. I still have tons of them in FireRed, and one in Ruby. (My Umbreon, the one that kickstarted my love for Umbreon, the spiritual predecessor to Tubbo, is his. He gave me it for the Mossdeep City Gym, because it was a double battle and literally my only good Pokemon, the only thing I had that was above level 30, was my Blaziken. He tried to take Umbreon back once and I cried. I still have it.)

I was terrified of the Elite Four in Ruby, even though I had a level 93 Blaziken and could’ve won only using it, but there was obviously nothing rational about anything I did with that game at the time. And Blaziken and my new Groudon were the only Pokemon I had that were vaguely good. So I borrowed two of my brother’s better Pokemon - his Swellow and Kyogre - and one of J’s, not counting the earlier Umbreon - his Rayquaza.

Note the one “N” and the different trainer ID number.

The other thing to know about how I played Ruby and FireRed was that I was a copycat. I wasn’t confident in my own decisions - I guess you can already tell that from everything I’ve already said. It was terror the whole way through. I was a weird, weird kid. But I copied so many of the decisions that my brother made - started with a Torchic because he did. Started with a Squirtle because he did, and chose the Helix Fossil in Mt Moon because he did. (Even though what I really wanted was a Charizard, and when I got one from J, who I still have, my Blastoise became a benchwarmer. Did I start with Mudkip in Emerald because my brother did or because I liked it better than Treecko? I don’t know.)

I copied nicknames, too, and gave them to some same Pokemon. Some from my brother.....and one from J. I just threw an extra “N” on there. That’s my Sorenn. I named him after someone else’s Soren the Rayquaza, and I don’t know who that Soren was named for.

I remember, though, J had a Tyranitar named Dante. It stuck with me because I’d never seen a Tyranitar before, nor heard the name Dante before. J played a lot of video games besides Pokemon, and I imagine his Dante was probably named after that one Video Game Man Protagonist named Dante, and not the Italian Bible fanfiction poet named Dante. I mention this to establish a vague possible precedent for J naming his Pokemon after other video game characters. 

A few years later, I started reading the Guardians of Ga’hoole books, with their protagonist named Soren, which was a name I’d never heard before besides J’s Rayquaza, and I think I thought “huh, maybe J read these books too? Maybe that’s it?”

But it feels more likely, with all I knew of J at the time, that his Soren was named after Fire Emblem’s Soren. He had a GameCube, after all, and played a lot of games. (Bro and I were Pokemon-and-Kirby-only people, at the time.)

The question is really if the timeline adds up, and I can offer you a solid maybe. Here’s some release dates.

Pokemon Ruby - March 2003

Guardians of Ga’hoole (book series) - June 2003 (first book published)

Pokemon Colosseum - March 2004

Pokemon FireRed - September 2004

Path of Radiance - October 2005

I know my brother and I didn’t play Ruby and Sapphire on release, but I don’t know how long after it was. And I don’t know how long it took me to get to the point when I was willing to take on the Elite Four. It would have had to have been at least the end of 2005 if my Soren namesake theory is correct. Going off of my age then, I think it’s likely that it was at least last quarter 2005 - I don’t think I started playing Pokemon much younger than that. And Colosseum was out by then, so J definitely had a GameCube by then. I included FireRed on my timeline even though I don’t know how long after its release I got it - it was Christmas, but I don’t know what year. And I don’t know if I was finished playing Ruby by the time I got FireRed.

But...this was over a decade ago, and it was my mother buying us those games, and Bro and I weren’t aware of new releases to want to get them, and maybe it’s just the haze of memory talking but I feel like games did have longer lifecycles back then? Maybe I was just a kid and couldn’t know otherwise. I only owned like five GBA games by the time the DS released. 

I could easily have just been playing Ruby at the end of 2005. J could’ve played Path of Radiance by then, and named his Rayquaza after a character from it. I think that’s probably the most likely scenario. It makes sense for all the pieces I have, and who I knew J to be. And maybe I’m just stretching to fit what I think, but hey, Soren’s a wind magic character, and FE wind magic is green, and Rayquaza is a green flying-type....

In conclusion, a game that I just started playing turned into a nostalgia bomb of the weirdest kid, and not for the “Ike is in Smash Bros and that’s a game I’ve played thousands of hours of” reason that I figured this game could nostalgia bomb me with.

And I grew up from being a weird kid to a weird adult, and that has me feeling rather fond of Soren Fire Emblem even though I just met him and he’s also kind of a jerk. He makes me think fondly on one of my most beloved Pokemon, who he may or may not be the namesake of. 

[willowfoot]

🐍

As the years pass, and the humans get more and more thorough with their records-keeping, it’s a given that Aziraphale and Crowley are forced to get a bit creative with their human personas in order to blend in.

For instance, birthdays. Neither angels nor demons have birthdays precisely, at least not any comprehensible by human standards of time, so they’re obliged to make one up. It’s not quite as simple as picking a single year and sticking to it, because people tend to look at you askance if your ID states a year of birth from several centuries ago. So every few years, the two of them update their “birthday” to match with their current corporation’s apparent age.

For the sake of ease, the month and day of their “birthdays” stay the same. After some dithering (and influences from a certain Globe performance around 1599), Aziraphale settles for March 15, and is unreasonably smug over the joke of it. (“But angel, isn’t that technically mocking the murder of an actual human? How very… unangelic of you.” To which Aziraphale only swats a smirking Crowley’s shoulder and refuses to dignify him with a response.) Crowley, rather predictably, chooses June 6. (“Really, my dear?” “What? I have a reputation to maintain.”)

But while Aziraphale tends to pluck a random year that’ll set him at roughly middle-age, then proceeds to forget about the whole business for two decades or more until Crowley reminds him about it, Crowley is decidedly more methodical in choosing his years of birth. 1893. 1929. 1941. 1965. (Plus other years before and in-between.) It takes Aziraphale a while to notice a pattern, but eventually he realizes; Crowley’s birth years are all twelve (or some multiple of twelve) years apart. Perhaps it‘s simply a matter of convenience, but Aziraphale knows Crowley, and suspects there’s some deeper meaning to it.

He tries to subtly (or not so subtly) bring up the subject in conversation in the hopes of getting an explanation. “I do believe it’s that time again,” he says as casually as he can on one occasion, while he and Crowley are dining at the Ritz one lovely afternoon in May 2009. “Mrs. Wang down at the manicurist said something to the effect that I look remarkably spry for a person of fifty-five. No danger yet, of course, but I felt it best to… amend my birth certificate, somewhat, just in case.”

“Good move,” Crowley says, though he looks far more interested in aiming a piece of mashed potato with an improvised spoon-catapult at a businessman sitting nearby, dressed in an expensive suit and loudly berating a young waiter.

“I was thinking of changing it to your current birth year, in fact,” Aziraphale continues. “1965. How does that sound?”

“Mm.” Crowley fires his projectile once the waiter leaves the table. The businessman sputters and turns scarlet as the mashed potato lands neatly in his cup, spilling red wine all over his suit.

“Stop that,” Aziraphale scolds, though he discreetly twitches a finger and ties the laces of the man’s Oxford shoes together beneath the tablecloth. “I was thinking that perhaps you also ought to change your birthdate to save yourself the hassle later. Perhaps the year,” Aziraphale pretends to think, “1976?”

“Nope,” Crowley says cheerfully, popping the ‘p’. “1977”.

“What a coincidence,” Aziraphale says triumphantly. “Isn’t that exactly twelve years after your last birthday?”

“It sure is,” Crowley says, and digs right into his slice of angel cake without a word more on the matter.

Aziraphale gives up.

It’s very much a reverse Dick Turpin situation. Much as Newton Pulsifer desperately hopes for someone to ask him why he gave such a name to his car, Aziraphale unsuccessfully tries to get Crowley to explain the pattern behind his birth years, while Crowley blissfully ignores the angel’s increasingly obvious hints each time.

It takes another nine years, one failed Antichrist-raising, and one Armageddon’t later, when Aziraphale finally gets his answer.

A month after the first day of the rest of their lives, Aziraphale and Crowley are mildly tipsy in the bookshop’s back room, Crowley sprawled across the sofa and Aziraphale settled in his cozy armchair.

“You know, we didn’t celebrate our birthdays this year,” Crowley says, swilling his wine around his glass. A few drops spill out, but have the good sense not to stain Crowley’s shirt or the sofa cushions.

“We don’t have birthdays,” Aziraphale points out, somewhat fuzzy with drink. “Those dates are only for our records. You know that.”

“We can do yours first, since yours comes before mine,” Crowley continues as though Aziraphale hasn’t spoken. “But even so… the Ides of March? Really? That was the best you could come up with?”

“It’s a ref’rence. A clever one. Shakespeare said it,” Aziraphale mutters. “And you’re one to talk. Your birthday is bloody 666.”

“Technically only 6/6. Haven’t had a six in my birth year since… oh, 1965.” Crowley sighs happily. “That was a good one. Put it on my annual report to Hell and everything. Dagon didn’t appreciate it, unfunny bastard never does, but I swear I saw that arse Asmodeus nearly laugh.”

Aziraphale sits up straight in his armchair. Even sobers up, because he wants to remember this after trying for decades to find the truth. Crowley sees the revived clarity in Aziraphale’s eyes and sobers up, too.

“Angel? What is it?”

“Why are your birth years always twelve or some multiple of twelve years apart?” Aziraphale demands. “I’ve been trying to figure it out for ages, but I never could, and you were never any help. Don’t try to fool me, you old serpent. I know it must mean something.”

Crowley looks startled for a moment, then slowly begins to grin. “Why, angel. I thought you’d never ask! I wondered how long it would take for you to break and ask me outright instead of dancing around it like you always do.”

Aziraphale huffs. “Fine, you win this round. Now tell me — why?”

Crowley sits back on the sofa, cross-legged, yellow eyes alight with eagerness.

“D’you remember when I stayed in China for a spell, around 560 A.D.?”

Aziraphale frowns. “Yes, of course I do. That was when you bought me that lovely vase from Hangzhou. What does that have to do with anything?”

Crowley grins again. “I was assigned to carry out the temptation of a noble, but I ended earlier than expected and took the rest of the week off.” What he doesn’t mention is that the noble in question had already thrown himself headfirst into a thoroughly immoral life before Crowley even arrived in the country, leaving him twiddling his thumbs as he tried to figure out what to do next. “I was staying at a hotel near the Yangtze River when I heard from the locals that some sort of big event was taking place nearby.”

“And this was?”

“You see, apparently this event had been in the works for years. Sanctioned by the emperor and everything. It was going to completely revolutionize the way the Chinese used their calendar.”

The story begins to sound vaguely familiar to Aziraphale.

Crowley grins again. “They gathered some of the most popular animals together in order to host a race. A Great Race. The first twelve animals that could cross the river and reach the finish line would have the privilege of becoming part of the new Chinese zodiac… forever.”

“Crowley, you didn’t,” Aziraphale says, realization dawning.

“Oh, I sure did.”

“You invented the Year of the Snake?”

“There wasn’t a single serpent among all the contestants! Seemed a bit prejudiced, if you ask me, unless a snake was invited but simply didn’t show. So I just,” Crowley waves an airy hand, “slipped into something more slithery and lined up with all the rest.”

“I cannot believe your nerve.” Aziraphale sighs, but a smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

“Rather a neat job, wasn’t it?” Crowley beams. “I came in sixth, and so the snake became the sixth animal in the Chinese zodiac, representing the birth years of millions of humans around the world for the past two millennia.”

“And that’s why you always choose birthdays that are twelve years apart — so you can be ‘born’ in the Year of the Snake each time.” Aziraphale shakes his head in fond disbelief. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice it sooner.”

“Well, I invented it, didn’t I? Would be a shame if I wasted my contribution.” Crowley thinks for a moment. “Your current birth year is 1973, isn’t it? That would put you in the Year of the Ox.” He smiles at the angel. “Tough, clever, set in their ways, strong sense of justice, a tendency towards scholarly pursuits… fits you pretty well, I’d say.”

“And you’re a snake, of course. Crafty, passionate, optimistic, observant, and loyal to those they love.” Aziraphale gets up and moves to sit beside Crowley on the sofa, taking his hand. “Sounds about right to me.”

“Tell the whole blessed world, will you,” Crowley grumbles, though there’s little heat to it. He burrows his face in Aziraphale’s neck.

They sit there contentedly for a while, enjoying the silence and each other’s presence. Then Aziraphale frowns.

“Didn’t you ride a horse to get to the finish line?”

Crowley slowly lifts his head, cornered. “Er.”

“You did, didn’t you? That’s how the story goes, at least. The snake hides on the horse’s hoof to cross the river, then startles the horse at the last second, so that the snake finishes in sixth place and the horse in seventh.” Aziraphale narrows his eyes at Crowley. “I thought you disliked horses. What really happened?”

Crowley groans. “It wasn’t my fault, honestly. I was in the middle of crossing the river when I nearly got stepped on by that blasted creature. I only managed to avoid discorporation by latching onto his leg. I kept yelling at him to stop running, for Somebody’s sake, but he didn’t notice me, at least not until he looked down near the end and gave himself a fright.” He shudders at the memory. “I didn’t so much as cross as I was thrown over the finish line. 臭马,” he mutters.

Aziraphale kisses the pout off Crowley’s lips. “Well, look at it this way. At least you ended up finishing before him, my dear.”

—

(I’m a snake zodiac myself, so of course I had to write this.

Some notes:

I did my best but this isn’t very historically accurate, apologies. However, the Great Race that I mention here is the actual myth behind the formation of the Chinese zodiac.

In Chinese astrology, the snake and the ox are said to be “heavenly compatible”, relationship-wise. 👀

Thanks for reading!)

[badasscrossstitch]

Voting in Illinois

Last week I asked my college students how many of them had ever voted (2 out of a class of 35 had). Only a handful were confident they were registered. I asked a few questions to see how much they knew about the voting process. This week, I put together a resource page and walked them through the myriad of options they had for registering, absentee voting, early voting, day of voting, how to look up their ballot ahead of time, how to research candidates, how to research judges and issues, and talked to them about their trepidation’s around voting. One student asked what this had to do with a business class and I explained at length about the impact that electeds have on everything that could impact their future businesses and the kind of world they want to live in. I then asked them how many of them were taught any of this before- 2 hands went up. I was SO ANGRY FOR THEM. All I hear is how young people don’t do this and they don’t do that and they don’t vote. They don’t vote because we have failed them. How can we expect to have civically engaged citizens if we do not teach them the basic logistics of HOW to vote. We let them graduate high school right at the age when they can first vote and we don’t demand that part of their learning include how to vote let alone how to vote informed. How is it that I have a classroom of voting age students who are brilliant and creative and inspiring and they learned more in a 30 minute crash course in voting with me in a business class than in their formal education prior to today? I hope they feel as much resentment as I feel right now and I hope they take that to the polls and show this country what is possible when we give folks the basic literacy and resources to do the most important thing any citizen can do in a democracy.

Here are the resources I shared with them. 

VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE 

 1)    Register to Vote

2)    Ways to Vote

3)    Know your Ballot

4)    Do your Research

 1)    Registering to Vote in Illinois:

·         You must be a United States Citizen.

·         You must be 17 years old on or before the date of the Primary Election and turn 18 on or before the date of the General or Consolidated Election.

·         You must live in your election precinct at least 30 days prior to Election Day.

·         You must not be serving a sentence of confinement in any penal institution as a result of a conviction.

·         You may not claim the right to vote anywhere else.

REGISTER ONLINE HERE (Links to an external site.)

When you register, you will receive a voter registration card in the mail. It will tell you where you go vote. (Somewhere nearby your address). If you don't get one in time you can look up your polling location here: https://ova.elections.il.gov/PollingPlaceLookup.aspx (Links to an external site.)

 Same Day Registration:

Illinois has same day registration. That means you can show up to your polling location with 2 forms of ID, register, and vote all at the same time!

On Election Day, voters who are not registered to vote can register and vote at their home precinct only. Any voter who is not registered and needs to know where to go to register and vote on Election Day can utilize the Clerk’s online Your Voter Information Tool to find their proper polling place by address or birthday.

Voters planning on registering to vote or updating their address on Election Day must bring two pieces of identification to register, one with a current address.

  2)    Ways to Vote:

 Early Voting

If you know you won’t have time to vote on the day of the election (March 17, 2020) don’t worry! You can vote early (and you can register and vote at the same time!). Early voting takes place March 2-16th. There are dedicated early voting locations. Here is a list of the Cook County locations: https://www.cookcountyclerk.com/service/early-voting-locations

 Here is the location and schedule for the early voting polling station closest to Columbia:

 69 W WASHINGTON, 5TH FLOOR

69 W WASHINGTON ST

CHICAGO, IL 60602

 MF

Feb.  19 - Feb. 21

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Feb.  24 - Feb. 28

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Mar.  2 - Mar. 6

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Mar.  9 - Mar. 13

09:00  AM - 07:00 PM

Mar. 16

09:00  AM - 07:00 PM

SA

Mar. 7

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Mar. 14

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

SU

Mar. 8

10:00  AM - 04:00 PM

Mar. 15

10:00  AM - 04:00 PM

69 W WASHINGTON, PEDWAY

69 W WASHINGTON ST

CHICAGO, IL 60602

 MF

Feb.  19 - Feb. 21

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Feb.  24 - Feb. 28

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Mar.  2 - Mar. 6

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Mar.  9 - Mar. 13

09:00  AM - 07:00 PM

Mar. 16

09:00  AM - 07:00 PM

Mar. 17

06:00  AM - 07:00 PM

SA

Mar. 7

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

Mar. 14

09:00  AM - 05:00 PM

SU

Mar. 8

10:00  AM - 04:00 PM

Mar. 15

10:00  AM - 04:00 PM

 Election Day Voting

In Illinois, you do NOT need to present a photo ID or any documentation in order to vote. You just have to be on the registered voter list. I find it helpful to bring my voter registration card with me and just hand it to them so they can find me easier. 

Voting doesn't take long at all in most cases. Just roll up, check in, get your voting form, go to a booth, fill it out, return it to them, get your "I voted" stitcker, post on social that you voted, carry on with your day knowing you did your civic duty and used your voice to shape the country the way you see fit.

 Mail In Ballot/Absentee Ballot - Illinois

Don't want to wait to vote on election day or go to the polls? That's cool. Get your absentee ballot mailed to you. Fill it out at home and mail it back! So easy. It takes 2 minutes online. Here you go... https://www.vote.org/state/illinois/ (Links to an external site.)

The ballot must be postmarked by the day of the election. 

Primary: March 17th / General: Nov 3rd

 Registered to vote in another state?

Cool! Get your absentee ballot from that state mailed to you. Fill it out at home. Mail it back before election day in your state. Easy.

https://www.usa.gov/absentee-voting (Links to an external site.)

  3)    Know Your Ballot

The primary is where each party votes on who they want to run in the general election (November 3,2020). You are essentially narrowing down the field in this election.

In the Illinois primary, when you show up to vote you need to declare if you want a Democratic ballot or a Republican ballot. You can choose either but not both.

The choice on who you want to run for President is NOT the only choices you need to vote on. Each ballot is different based on where you live. 

Go to this site: https://ballotpedia.org/Illinois_elections,_2020 (Links to an external site.) and enter the address you used to register to vote. It will give you a sample ballot. You can then use the sample ballot to research candidates and issues. You can fill out your sample ballot ahead of time and then bring it with you into the voting booth so you remember all the folks you want to vote for. This will also make the voting process real quick.

   4)    Do your Research

This is probably the most challenging part of any election.

Local politics/local positions are SO IMPORTANT. Local elected officials get to make major decisions that impact your neighborhood, your city, your county, and your state. Yes, national politics is super important but local politics, I would argue, has an even greater impact on your day-to-day life.

 a)    Know your ballot

There are lots of ways to do your research. Knowing what is on your ballot will narrow down the amount of research you need to do. So be sure to go to : https://ballotpedia.org/Illinois_elections,_2020 (Links to an external site.) and get a copy of your ballot.

 b)    Researching presidential candidates

Currently, there are 8 Democratic candidates and 2 Republican candidates.

https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/us/politics/2020-presidential-candidates.html

 Since there are so many Democratic candidates running for president there is a lot to consider.

I found this resource helpful: 

https://www.washingtonpost.com/graphics/politics/policy-2020/quiz-which-candidate-agrees-with-me/ (Links to an external site.)

 It could help you narrow down where to start your candidate research. 

 c)    Voting for Judges

When deciding on what judges to vote for (because let's be honest...what the hell do I know about who should be a judge or not) I use this resource: https://www.voteforjudges.org/ (Links to an external site.)

   Ultimately, you cast your vote for the candidates that you believe will create the kind of country that you want to live in. 

  I hope this is helpful to you. I hope you choose to vote. As always, I am here to answer any questions or talk through anything with you.

=)

Shannon

 VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE VOTE 

[donaeis]

simmer - get to know

by @cupcakegnome​

i was tagged by the amazing @whyhellosims​ and couldn’t pass up on this awesome opportunity to allow yall to get to know me a bit better! 💖

your name: I went on discord a few years ago for some sims help and just named my account Figaro after my favorite horse without really thinking about it... then I actually got hooked on discord and my friends started calling me Fig, so... fig it is! here’s the real fig, though, for those who are interested:

hes more amazing than i could ever dream to be.

languages you speak: dutch, english, german (i'm gonna go as far as to say dutch and german are mutually intelligible, and tho this gives a bit less of an incentive to actually learn german when germans will understand ur dutch just fine, it also makes learning german significantly easier). I tried to learn greek but even after years and years i just couldnt get past the alphabet LOL. the only greek I know are the bits and pieces I learned from my time spent there, but id have 0 idea how to actually spell that stuff out.

are you a mermaid: if only!! i do feel a very strong connection to water, though—my dad built his own sailing boat and traveled the world with it, and during his travels me and my sis been visiting a lot, living on his boat with him while we did

your play style: so, so story-driven... even when I tell myself I just wanna play the game without a story for once I end up with one by the end of my play session anyway.

your selfsim picture:

stories or gameplay, builds, lookbooks, edits or cc: I do stories most of all, but also like regular gameplay, my stories will for a very large part be game-driven, and from time to time ill post some builds. ive done a lookbook too. basically the only thing that wont have too much of a focus on my blog, despite my using it, is cc

your favorite age state: YA

your favorite season: winter

your favorite holiday: talk like a pirate day!

how was your day: actually absolutely terrible LOL. hungover, lost my temper on both a customer as well as a coworker... at least i got through it. 😂

your favorite career: admittedly, I rarely actually play careers cause my sims are way too busy or too dumb to actually be able to go there. if I had to choose any, though... I might actually go with the military

your favorite aspiration: the one that the most of my sims have completed is Friend of the World, cause I like for my sims to be sociable so it doesnt take too much effort to complete it anyway, and the reward of relationships never decaying is great

your favorite EP, SP or GP: vampires will always hold a special place in my heart, but I also absolutely love strangerville! if I had to choose any one favorite, id go with that one.

how old is your simblr: I posted some stuff in march last year but havent been active since, like, november? december? something like that

have you woohooed: yes

your favorite skill: charisma, cause theyll develop it automatically as I play

the size of your mods folder: 2.77 GB

your 3 favorite mods: mc command center, npc control, and personality please (links) are the three mods i absolutely couldn’t play without

your interests (other than sims): writing, dancing, creating (i love things like character creation), horse riding & anything involving animals, really.

your favorite sim (picture if possible): this is actually incredibly difficult for me cause im not sure i have 1 favorite. a lot of sims of mine will always hold a special place in my heart. my favorite sim to play fluctuates a lot... but god, if i had to choose any favorite sim whom i really completely made through sims and who was not a non-sims character already precious to me turned into a sims character.... itd probably be tika. hes an asshole but man, do i just love him and especially his story.

which Sims games you have played (including mobile games): the sims 1, 2 and 4

propose a crazy scheme: the sims community actually coming up with some GOOD sims 4 qualities for once 

best part of simblr: the amazing people I got to meet on here!

worst part of simblr: hmm... though i feel its much much less toxic than places like youtube or even the official forums, there is still some negativity here sometimes

what other games you play: im kind of a noob with other games, honestly. I used to play a whooole bunch of horse-related games (am a total horse girl), and I played the battle for middle earth (also looove me some LOTR). used to go to my childhood best friend's house to steal her brother's xbox and play gta iv on it, and I bought gta v for myself but sadly, I suck too bad at games to actually progress any with it

other websites or accounts (origin, twitter etc..): im on wordpress (here). i also mod a sims-based, lgbtq+ discord server called simsclub 

are you single: very happily so, yes.

im tagging @wesunnysimmer​, @nyteroseshadowthorn​, @amuhav​, @chaosxsims​, @silverspringsimmer​, @polishsimmersblog​ and well, uh... basically anyone that wants to do this! feel absolutely free to ignore this if you dont want to. 

[purplesurveys]

958

Who’s one person who changed how you viewed something? Gabie has left me a big life realization or two.

At what age do you feel like you grew up mentally/emotionally? Well I think at any age people don’t stop growing and learning, but at this point in my life I felt like I did a lot of growing up at 17 in particular. There were a lot of losses endured and big decisions that had to be made when I was that age.

Do you have any brothers? I have a brother. Singular.

Are you currently happy? No. It’s gonna take a while to get there again, if I ever do.

Who did you talk on the phone with last night? No one. Work was prrrrretty exhausting yesterday so I was passed out by 9 PM. Wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone either; I just wanted my bed.

Is anything bugging you right now? Ugh, yep.

Who is the last person you missed a call from? My mom. She always seems to call on the ultra rare occasions that I put my phone down, which almost never happens.

What annoys you most in a person? Probably those who come off as unapproachable and unpleasant right off the bat. I get people who can be quiet at first because I can be that way too, but there’s still a big difference between being shy and just plain unapproachable.

Have you changed this year? For sure. 2020 has been a big year so far in terms of life changes and I’ve been greatly affected by all of them.

What are you listening to right now? I can hear Rhett and Link trying weird kinds of fondue.

Are you talking to anyone tonight? I don’t think so. I prefer not to, though; I’m always so tired after work haha.

Do you get nervous before doctor appointments? Not at all. I feel relaxed going to the doctor because it means getting feedback on whatever condition or illness I’m having. I feel way more nervous for interviews or having to take calls HAHA 

Whose bed did you sleep in last that wasn’t yours? My parents’, back when I was sick a few months ago. They had to look after me because I had felt super faint for a few days.

Are you a really understanding person? Yeah, very. I don’t know if it’s overall a good thing or not because historically, being understanding has made it easier for some people walk all over me. I don’t regret it though. It feels nice to be nice.

How many hours of sleep did you get last night? Around 10. This work-from-home thing is pretty sweet; it’s a big relief no longer having to drive to the workplace and spend 4 hours in traffic everyday.

How many pillows do you like to sleep with? Two.

Did you wake up in the middle of the night last night? Yeah once at midnight, another time at 3 AM. I fell back asleep easily though.

How are you feeling lately? Kinda annoyed at a miscommunication that someone else caused at work that led me to be wrongfully scolded; mostly relieved because I’ve done my tasks for now and I think I did a pretty good job. Also relieved because it’s lunch break which means I have time to take this survey.

How do you wear your hair most of the time? Down or in a lazy, low bun.

Think back to the end of last school year, who did you have feelings for? Gab.

In a relationship, do you think about the future, or now? I think of both. It’s not that hard.

Think back to the last person you kissed, did that person ever give you a piggy back ride? Yup, plenty. I’m half her weight so I’m easy to carry around.

Did you see your best friend today? I haven’t seen either in a while, no. Angela especially – I haven’t seen her since March.

Are you close to your father? Definitely closer to him than I am with my mom, but I wouldn’t call him a confidante or anything like that. He’s just more relatable and it’s easier to talk and open up to him. He also never scolds me, so there’s that.

Have you ever broken someone’s heart? It’s definitely possible. I’m sure I disappointed my mom a few times back when I was in my angsty-teenager-going-through-puberty phase, lol.

Where did you go today? The farthest I’ve gone is the kitchen to get myself brunch and coffee.

Where are you located right now? I’m in my bedroom, working on the floor because I find it more comfortable for the meantime.

What’s between you and the last person you texted? I dunno. It’s weird at the moment. 

Could you go a month without talking to your best friend? I technically could, but it would be miserable.

What was the last piece of furniture you purchased? I didn’t purchase it myself, but my mom got me a new desk in my room.

Have you ever broken up with someone for a reason other than lack of feelings (ex. moving away, etc.)? Nope.

Has anyone ever told you that you are too picky when it comes to the people you date? What about not picky enough? Ugh, I’ve taken this survey before looooooool. I’m too far in it now though, so I guess I’ll just suck it up. I remember answering this by saying that as a demi I’m bound to be very picky, and that I’m alright with that.

When was the last time you went to a bar? Start of Feb, at Kiana’s friend’s boyfriend’s new bar. I feel bad for the dude for having his bar open mere weeks before a global pandemic blew up, but I’m glad to see that it’s still doing well with online orders and such.

What three things would you change about your life? I wish my internship would soon turn into a full-time position; I wish I was more stable and happier; I wish I had a few creative talents under my belt like cooking and knowing how to play at least one instrument.

Was there anything unusual or unique about your birth? I’m gonna retain my old answer and say that it’s my siblings who get to share weirder facts about their birth. My mom’s pregnancy with me went smoothly.

What has happened in the past week that is worth remembering in five years? Internship and other life things. September 2020 is a month to remember lol

How much of your day did you spend completely alone? For the last week or so I’ve been mostly alone since internship eats up my days. I show up to my family for dinner, but that’s about it.

What was the best conversation you’ve had recently? Angela giving me a pep talk the other day. I’ve been holed up by myself for the last few days, so it felt amazing to reach out to a friend.

What is the next book you are going to read? I’ll continue reading Midnight Sun, as slow as my progress is.

Describe the hardest decision you have ever made. I’m currently in the process of having to pick a big decision but I don’t feel like getting into it.

Why did you last see the doctor? I had a pesky fever that wasn’t going away and I was starting to get scared that it was either dengue or COVID altogether.

Post a recent picture of yourself. Eh, you’re not getting one today, survey.

How do you spend the majority of your free time? I like watching YouTube videos, doing surveys, reading articles, and playing with Cooper.

What do you want to accomplish tomorrow? Just hoping for more tasks to be handed to me so I can maximize my time in my internship.

List the cards in your wallet. Debit card, school ID, driver’s license, gas station card for perks, a couple of business cards, and a card listing down rights of media practitioners that was handed to us by the college’s student council a few years ago. As for the latter, that was when the political climate was a bit of a mess and when that happens, journalism practitioners and students are usually the main targets of the cops. We were given that card so we can protect ourselves just in case something shitty happened to any one of us.

What was the last thing to inspire you? The aforementioned pep talk given to me by Angela.

Who was the last person to do something nice for you? One of my superiors at work complimented me on the slides I worked on.

What was the lowest point of this year? The highest? Highest point would be pre-Covid days, which sucks because those were a lifetime ago. There has been a lot of low points.

Is there any artwork in the room you’re in? Yep.

What is your number one short-term goal? Long-term? Short-term is to do well in this internship, long-term is to work towards a career in a field that I’m into and happy in and let everything follow from there.

Are you dealing with anything difficult at the moment? Yes.