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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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Demon Brothers Meeting the MC’s Family

I mean, if they have any family at all, what could they even tell them anyway? “Sorry Mom, still in Hell so I won’t make Thanksgiving but I’m doing great though!” This is another long one folks, but I lowkey kind of love it a whole lot. Sooo fun to write. One of my favorite posts so far.

Lucifer

Thinks it's a little weird that they’re so adamant to introduce their family to a literal demon but also kinda gets it. Family is the most important thing to him too.

Is very focused on making a good first impression, from image to attitude. Their approval isn’t going to do jack to stop him from being with the MC but he’d still take pride in being able to charm them for a night. Besides, if the MC cares then so does he.

Has more experience with the human world than the others so he’d know a lot of the do’s and don'ts already. They won’t need to worry about him making some kind of slip up.

Would love the irony if the MC’s family is religious at all. Christian/Jewish especially. May or may not play along with their little rituals but is going to make a lot of thinly veiled, passive-aggressive comments towards his "old man."

Would be most comfortable in a setting where there’s a lot of intellectual discussion or debate. He loves to steer a conversation down towards politics or other controversial things to get a rise out of people. The MC may need to reign him in if that’s a big no-go zone.

Isn’t really going to get along with any younger siblings the MC might have. Either he’s too stiff or too scary. If they’re looking for a playmate, look somewhere else.

Also not going to be particularly fond of any pets they have one way or another. Though he may take a shine to pitbulls or rottweilers because they remind him of Cerberus.

Mammon

You sure about this, MC? Him? Really? Are you really sure? He’s going to think they're crazy but he’s not going to refuse.

Will be so freaking excited if they’re from a well-to-do or, dare say, rich family. So much stuff to steal admire. Yeah, yeah no stealing from the MC’s family, he gets it... He’ll really try his best but it might be good to keep an eye on him.

Surprisingly though, he’s not going to be disgusted if they’re from a poor family either because the dude gets it. Money is hard to come by and things can be tough. He might even… pay... for some stuff while he’s there... You know, if he can. Don’t make a big deal out of it… He's got an image to keep.

He’ll try his best to not come off like a total scumbag and it may actually work. He’s rough around the edges but there’s plenty of chances for his better side to shine through as long as he stays on good behavior.

They will have to be sure that he doesn’t get to talking too much because his dumbass will let it slip that he’s a demon.

Mammon may not love kids but kids love him and any younger siblings are going to do the same. Even if he calls them little gremlins, he’ll let himself get roped into whatever game they’re playing and make it a lot of fun in the process.

Bring on the pets! He’s more of a dog person but he’ll play with a cat too. He may not be as animal-obsessed as Satan but he loves a good furry companion every once in a while.

Leviathan

NOOOOO and you can’t make him!!! A social event involving strangers where he has to make a good impression?? Fuck no, that sounds like actual hell and he doesn’t want anything to do with it!

… But he also can’t just let the MC go back to the human world alone because what if they meet someone better than him and get reminded that they’re with a good-for-nothing otaku…? Okay he's going. But he’s going to pout about it.

His first impression is going to make him come off like a nervous wreck no matter what. There’s really no polishing this bundle of anxiety. The best he can hope for is to ride this thing out until it's done.

Will be pretty quiet and cling to the MC like a life-raft the entire night. Refuses to be left alone with their family in any capacity, he could not handle the awkward silence. If they’re going to the bathroom, then he’s going too damnit.

If they have a pretty nerdy family then he might be a bit more comfortable. Especially if any of their siblings/parents game or are into anime. Steering conversation more towards his comfort zones will help him out a lot...

If they have little siblings who play a lot of video games then he is going to be the coolest person in the world. Period. He knows all the best strategies to practically any game out there, demonic or human. He may even loosen up a little bit and start smiling if he gets to wow an audience with his gaming prowess!

Like Lucifer he’s not going to be all that impressed with pets either way. He’ll think fish are pretty neat and probably even reptiles too but don’t expect him to get too cuddly with a dog or anything.

Satan

Doesn’t hate the idea but agrees that his name is going to have to change if they’re really serious about it. “Hey everybody this is my boyfriend, Satan!” is only going to be appealing to very niche circles...

Like Lucifer, he's going to be mindful of how he comes across. He'd rather the MC's family likes him than didn't, even if it's irrelevant, so expect him to be very polite and sociable. Damn near the perfect gentleman.

… Until something/someone sets off his temper. He may not go full Wrath on the situation but it's probably best to get him out of the room real quick so he can cool down.

Would love if the MC comes from an super educated family but it’s not a must. He's the kind of guy who will ask a lot of questions about any person's profession/skills and how things work regardless of background. He's curious that way.

Either way, he is going to show off his smarts and make sure that their family knows where his intellect is at. He wants them to know that the MC picked someone with a good head on their shoulders, after all.

Best keep him away from small children and bratty teens. He isn't exactly opposed to kids, but it takes one little shit to set him off and NO ONE looks good yelling at someone else's kid. Deserved or not.

Will there be cats? Do you have a cat? Please say you have a cat! He's okay with dogs too but if the MC has a cat this man will be ecstatic. The cat will love him and he will love it right back. Honestly, he's already adopted it. It's his now. Who's MC?

Asmodeus

Baby, you can take him anywhere and he’ll be the life of the party! A little family gathering doesn’t matter to him.

Is going to make sure that the moment he walks through the door the MC's family is in awe of what a catch they've got for themselves. He wants them to be proud of their little MC! To him, that translates to looking good and being fun!

Hope this is a house used to physical affection because he will not (and probably cannot) turn it off. Everyone gets hugs. Everyone.

Extra affectionate the whole night. He'll hold the MC's hand or arm or waist or really any part he can get away with. Kisses on the head and cheek aplenty. He may also lowkey butter up their parents with loads of compliments no matter what situation they're in.

If he's told to cool it on the touching though, he may get offended.

Is going to be better with teenage siblings than little, little ones. The man lives to give dating advice, fashion tips, or makeovers, you name it. Though he has to be careful to mention just human products and not some of the stuff he has back home.

Animal fur on his clothes? After he dressed himself so carefully?? No thanks. You can have your cute puppy or your little kitty. He'll take pictures, but he's probably not going pet much.

Beelzebub

Is honestly kind of honored by the suggestion. The MC is already a part of his family so it only seems natural to make him part of theirs. Though he has some reservations, mostly around his appetite...

He doesn't go up to the human world very much because it's really hard for him to stay fed. He's well-known enough in the Devildom that restaurants know what to expect when he walks in. Not so much up there.

Arrange the meeting around a state fair, festival, or carnival where the food is plentiful and he's golden. Hopefully their family won't be too disturbed by how bottomless his stomach is…

Beel is a sweetheart through and through but his lack of knowledge about how the human world, or humans in general, work might come back to bite him. He may need a little 101 about human manners before going.

Truthfully, their family is in for a real treat! This giant may look intimidating, but he's as gentle as they come. The kind of guy who will carry their grandmother’s bags with a smile on his face just for the sake of being helpful. 10/10 Sweetie, mother will approve.

Ooooh little kids are going to love Beel. He'll let their siblings hang off of him like a jungle gym. Will also play games with them if they want him to. Doesn't matter to him, their family is his family too and he wants to see them all happy.

Man wants dogs. Preferably big ones that he can rough-house with but little dogs he can cuddle work too. Do remind him that he can't just rip a whole-ass branch off a tree to play fetch like you could with Cerberus.

Belphegor

Really? You want that? Lol, okay but no promises. This is pretty much the equivalent of sticking two unlabeled chemicals together in a beaker and leaning in to see what happens. Who knows, but now you're stuck in the middle of it.

He's not going to try especially hard to make a good impression or change himself in any way. If their family is into people who are kind of chill and sarcastic then he'll get along swimmingly. If they were expecting more of a Satan type, yeah. No. He's not holding open any doors.

Won't be taking the whole thing all that seriously to be honest, like, what are a bunch of humans going to do if they don’t like him? Tell MC? They're certainly not going to be able to make him leave. He's humoring them at best, even if he's nice, so why bother fussing about it?

Might be a disrespectful little troll at times like pretending to fall asleep or making casual jokes like "Oh no, ma'am. I'm not all that comfortable with that cross over there because I'm a demon. …. Got ya, didn’t I? That'd be silly." *shit-eating grin*

Would appreciate a quiet, slightly introverted family the most. He's going to start getting annoyed if people in the house are too loud and may speed the whole thing along as a result.

Kids are things he'd rather avoid than have to interact with, but if pressed he will humor the little ones too. Don't expect him to do a whole lot of moving, though. If they're happy to just show him things that he can semi-pay attention to, that works for him.

MC has a pet? Is it fluffy? Is it lazy? Bring'em here. Like Beel, he likes big dogs but would rather just bury his face in fluff than try to wrestle it. He may actually fall asleep with them if they lay still enough for it.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #shall we date #obey me luficer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #whoyoubringinghome?

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pillage-and-lute · 3 years

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An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 5)

This is pretty par for the course as far as some slightly horny bits but no actual horniness. Still, if that squicks you, read with caution.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, (here) Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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The next few days of Geralt’s marriage didn’t fare much better than the first. He and Jaskier were truly an ill match. Sure, the young man was charming, not even Geralt was immune to his wiles, and he was certainly easy on the eyes, but he’d never met someone as annoying as Jaskier.

Jaskier could talk a mile a minute, and the less Geralt talked, the more Jaskier did. This rankled. Geralt had learned that talking less was supposed to encourage less conversation, but clearly Jaskier hadn’t grasped that.

Far worse than the talking was the singing. Singing, humming, tapping, even playing his lute, Jaskier was always doing something. It was like riding beside a musical whirlwind, with the added penalty that at least a whirlwind wouldn’t know lyrics.

It wasn’t totally Jaskier, Geralt knew. They were riding hard to get as far from Lettenhove as possible, and the weather hadn’t let up. It had rained for almost five days, steady, drenching rain, with never enough time to get dry. They went to bed damp and woke up damper. Their socks were moist, their hair sopping. Jaskier was pouting because he couldn’t play his lute and somehow that made him more talkative. Despite the springtime, the rain was cold and sometimes he had to pause mid chatter to shiver. All this, made Geralt’s mood go south. Worse, he always hated parting from his brothers. There were so few of them, the first days without them were hard.

And he had to deal with some spoiled little rich boy.

That wasn’t being fair to Jaskier, he rarely acted spoiled, not really spoiled. It was, however, intensely clear that he was used to comfort and they were not, right now, comfortable. He didn’t complain too much about things Geralt couldn’t change, like the weather, apart from the odd sniffle about all his clothes being wet. He did beg to stay in an inn though.

That bothered Geralt too. They really had little money, and here the lad was trying to get Geralt to spend it on something they didn’t need. He’d survived rain before.

That thought gave Geralt pause. Of course he’d survived rain before, but had Jaskier? It was unlikely. Days and nights of being slightly damp and chilly weren’t good for humans, they tended to get things. Like chest infections. And pneumonia.

Geralt spared a glance at the figure riding, hunched, beside him.

Unfortunately, Jaskier seemed to take this as an invitation.

“I can’t wait to get to Oxenfurt,” he said. “I have this friend, Essi, I think you’d love her. She’d certainly love to meet you, and she’s quite pretty, so even if you won’t tell me your stories perhaps you’d tell them to her.”

Was there a hint of bitterness there?

“Anyway,” Jaskier continued. “She wouldn’t be frightened of you in the least, I know because one time we were drunk... well, I was drunk and she was tipsy, and this man came up, really rough looking type you know? And I was raised to be polite so I ask him his business...”

Geralt stopped paying much attention. If the bard could manage that much, all in one breath, he was fine. Jaskier continued, all about this Essi character and a man trying to mug them in an alley. Apparently the girl had kicked him in the rattle and flute so hard he’d thrown up.

“And there’s this great pub,” Jaskier was saying, gesturing broadly with one hand and flinging raindrops into Geralt’s face. “It’s called the King’s Boots, dunno why, but it’s got good ale. Like, really good, not the swill you probably get in these little backwater towns. Pretty barmaids, too, if that takes you fancy.”

There it was again, that odd little inflection.

“It took my fancy, when I was a student there, of course. They weren’t terribly interested in me but, well, I began studying there at fifteen. Really, I still had spots. I wasn’t the catch you see before you now.”

Geralt didn’t deign to respond. Whether or not Jaskier was a catch wasn’t something he was going to weigh in on.

Even if he definitely had an opinion.

That was maybe the worst of it all. In spite of the constant noise and restless intrusion into Geralt’s life and routine, he did like Jaskier. That was good, considering they were married, but he wanted to kiss Jaskier, at least once. Just to try it out. That was bad because their marriage was about a half inch from being a sham. Married in name only.

“What sort of ladies do you get?” Jaskier was asking. “I mean, it’s obvious you never have any trouble finding partners.”

Geralt thought of a woman in the woods, of Blaviken, of blood.

“Shut up.”

“No really, Geralt,” Jaskier whinged. “I wan’t to know. Queens and mages? Legendary beauties.”

“Prostitutes.”

“Ah, legendary beauties it is then.”

“I don’t know about legendary,” Geralt said, cursing himself as he did so for encouraging this inane line of questioning. “But they were beautiful enough. For a price.”

“Ah the ladies and gentlemen of negotiable affection will forever have a place in my heart,” Jaskier sighed. Geralt wasn’t about to hear Jaskier’s sexual history in any capacity. For his sanity, he decided to shut the conversation down.

“I expect they’re the only ones willing to touch you.”

Shit. That one had been too harsh. He didn’t mean it, surely men and women and people all fell at Jaskier’s feet with even a glimpse of his smile. He must know he’s attractive.

Jaskier barely spoke the rest of the day. He wasn’t even pouting, exactly. Just...quiet.

They made camp under cover of some trees. The thick canapy leant enough dryness that Geralt could build a big fire and they hung their clothes over some low branches to dry. Out of the corner of his eye Geralt saw Jaskier take the basilisk leather from his pack and stroke a hand over it, which was strange. The material simply didn’t absorb water and needed no care.

Perhaps he just...liked it. It was a nice thought, sitting sort of warm and heavy in Geralt’s stomach, like a good meat pie. Jaskier liked his gift. Of course, he’d known that, back the day they’d met. That actually, apart from Jaskier’s father, hadn’t been too bad of a day.

Geralt thought about that day as he hunted wild game for their supper. He snagged a pheasant, a male, because it was mating season, and remembered how nervous he’d been, how at ease Jaskier had seemed. Perhaps it was because Jaskier had likely always known it would be, at least somewhat, a political match. Geralt had never thought there’d be a match at all.

Back at camp Jaskier had water boiling and was sitting in front of the roaring fire in just his trousers and chemise, even his socks so damp as to need a good drying. Geralt set the game to boil with a few wild carrots for a stew and sat beside him, feeling his hair finally begin to dry.

“This didn’t start out bad,” he said. He meant them, of course, and he meant it as a sort of apology, even if he knew it was woefully lacking. He just didn’t know what to say. Somehow, Jaskier’s mind must have been running along the same track.

It’s alright. You never wanted to get married to me.”

No, Geralt thought but didn’t say. I never wanted to get married. It has nothing to do with you. There’s nothing at all the matter with you. I’m just a grumpy bastard and we’re not a good fit.

A little voice in the back of Geralt’s head said, ‘you could be. If you let yourself, you could fit’. It sounded unnervingly like Eskel.

The truth was, if it had been anyone besides Jaskier, especially any noble, Geralt may have hated all this more. Jaskier liked nice clothes and clean appearances, but he wasn’t vain. He liked nice things but wasn’t greedy. He craved praise but wasn’t prideful, disliked many things but wasn’t hateful. Compared to the thieving, conniving, small minded nobles Geralt knew, he was unlike them all.

He was definitely unlike his father.

Jaskier played his slow tune on his lute. It was comforting and almost familiar, just background music. Geralt stirred the pot, breaking up some larger chunks of meat with the spoon.

Maybe this would fix some things. They’d be dry, with hot food. That could fix a lot.

“Geralt,” Jaskier asked. “Can I sing?”

Damn. Well, it was weird the lad was asking for permission, but Geralt didn’t like the idea of controlling the man’s voice, no matter how often he told him to ‘shut up’. Somehow it didn’t feel the same.

“Whatever,” he said.

Jaskier sang lowly, voice pitched at the edge of human hearing. Geralt wasn’t a human, of course, and could hear it clear as day. It was a folk song he’d heard before, a tragedy about a young woman who’s love left and she drowned herself.

It didn’t seem fitting. Jaskier was so lively. Geralt prayed he hadn’t fucked up enought that he’d dampened the bards spirit.

“Do you know The Chandler’s Wife?” Geralt asked when Jaskier’s song was done.

“That one, with the” Jaskier clicked his fingers three times, mimicking the snapping or tapping that happened in the song.

“Hmmm,” Geralt confirmed, nudging the contents of the pot.

Jaskier began to play. It was a bawdy song, with tapping substituted where innuendo would be. It was simple and cheerful and short, and by the time it was finished they both had steaming bowls of stew.

“Of all the songs you could have asked for,” Jaskier said, blowing on his stew. “I never would have picked that one.”

“Lambert’s favorite,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier chuckled. “Makes sense, seems like his sort of song.” He took a large spoonful of stew and groaned in delight. Geralt very emphatically did not pay attention to that sound in any way at all.

“I expect you miss them,” Jaskier said.

“Some,” Geralt didn’t want to talk about it, so he focused on shoveling stew in to his mouth instead. Jaskier got the hint. He just settled one tentative hand on Geralt’s shoulder for a second, then went back to eating. He may as well have pressed a brand to Geralt’s skin.

That night, in their separate bedrolls in mostly dry and fire warmed clothes, Geralt could still feel Jaskier’s palm against him.

There was another reason, Geralt knew, for his over-grumpiness. It was guilt. Mostly he was alright, but hearing Jaskier chatter excitedly about Oxenfurt and all the things they could do together there...ate at him.

Jaskier had said he didn’t want to be left. Gotten rid of, had been his phrasing. And Geralt was going to. This rain had just been proof, though. Next time it could be pneumonia or hypothermia. The boy shouldn’t be out here.

It didn’t help Geralt sleep much better. Jaskier had also used the phrase ‘abandon’.

-- -- *-- --

The next village had a monster problem.

“Drowners, what do they do?”

“They drown people, Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “No, I meant, what do they look like--”

“Ugly.”

Another eye roll. “And how do they do it. Do they spin like an alligator? Do they sink claws in and pull...?”

“The second one,” Geralt said, sharpening his sword. He figured they were far enough from Lettenhove that whatever political turmoil Vesemir had unleashed wasn’t going to catch them too soon.

“I can’t wait. Do they have scales? Fins? Are they slimy like frogs?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, finally paying attention. “What do you mean ‘you can’t wait?”

“I get to see you in action! Heroic witcher risks his life for helpless townspeople, it’s all very...Galahad.”

“Galahad?”

“Yes Geralt, he’s only the most famous hero written about in the last three hundred years,” Jaskier said. He was gesturing broadly, the way he always did when talking about literature. Geralt settled in for a rant.

“You know, ‘my strength is as the strength of ten becasuer my heart is pure,’?” That was Jaskier’s quoting voice.

“Never heard it,” Geralt grunted.

“That’s okay, it’s about this hero who’s good and saves everybody. You’re better than him anyway because you’re real.”

“I’m...better than a mythical hero.”

“I mean...yeah,” Jaskier said like it was obvious. “Everyone knows flaws make a character better. You’re totally hot with a heart of gold, score. Very classic. But also,” Jaskier turned to him grinning. “You’re emotionally constipated and smell like onion.”

“You said heroics a few days ago.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, that’s what’ll go in the songs. Best of all is that you’re a witcher. Nobody likes witchers but that can change. You’ll be a tragic hero!”

“Tragic?”

“That hair is, do you ever brush it?

“We’re getting away from the point,” Geralt said, resisting the urge to swipe his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t going to see me fight.”

“What, you can’t just leave me at camp!”

No, no he absolutely couldn’t just leave Jaskier at camp. There could be assassins, wolves, anything.

“We’ll get a room at the inn.”

“Really? Oh Geralt, a real bed would be so nice, there’s been this crick in my neck, but you’re not leaving me in an inn room either.”

“You could perform.”

“Excellent bait, but no.”

“Jaskier, please. You need to stay in town,” Geralt was pleading. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been pleading. Probably when he was trying to convince Vesemir not to marry him off for the betterment of witcherkind.

“I want to see you fight!”

“It’s dangerous!.”

“You fight tons of these, right? I’ll stay super far away.”

“You could still get hurt, something goes wrong and you’ll get hurt! Humans are...soft.”

Jaskier tilted his chin up defiantly. Because they were the same height this wasn’t exactly necessary, but it gave Geralt a better view of his simply devastating eyes which was...not helping.

“I have the perfect plan,” Jaskier said. Were there silver flecks in his eyes? In this light Geralt was almost certain there were.

“I’ll stay back,” Jaskier was saying. “Any distance you want so long as I still get a reasonably good view. And I’ll wear the basilisk doublet.”

It was a good idea. Jaskier would stay back, the doublet would keep him safe.

Geralt might get another chance to be smiled at byJaskier.

Doublets. Doublets, doublets doublets. Think about the doublet.

“That would only keep your chest and arms safe.”

Jaskier smirked and patted a hand on Geralt’s chest, causing his slow heart to speed up just a little. “Are you going to let a drowner get to me? Get to my head, Geralt? My pretty face?” Jaskier pouted and Geralt’s stomach flipped over.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted. “You can come along.”

Jaskier looked very fine, all buttoned up in his basilisk leather doublet, and he was surprisingly quiet. This area of the forest was silent. and the ground was soft and slightly damp underfoot. They were near the Pontar river, which they would follow the rest of the way to Oxenfurt.

Here and there Geralt could see signs of human activity, but thankfully no humans in the area. Signs of woodcutters, likely the ill-fated ones who’d discovered the drowner’s pond in the first place, were scattered about.

They came within view of the pond. More swamp, really. It was so covered in green algae that it looked like some sort of oddly paved floor. It was as still as glass. Geralt took Jaskier’s--surprisingly strong--shoulder in one large hand and steered the boy to a log that he deemed was sufficiently far to be safe. Then he drew his sword.

Drowners weren’t hard to fight, and here in this little pond there were just two, skinny and hungry. Geralt felt relief flood him as he realized that he wouldn’t even need his potions. He didn’t want Jaskier to finally understand what a monster he was. Geralt was enjoying putting off that realization as long as possible. He was also enjoying being a noble hero, likened to this Galahad character, who sounded alright if a bit boring.

Geralt rolled his shoulders. He didn’t need to, but it looked nice and Jaskier was looking. The first drowner was close, now, trying to sneak through the algae, but Geralt’s vision was much better than its. He waited until the wretched thing lunged.

The slash of the drowner’s long claws missed Geralt narrowly, but he hadn’t been worried. He pivoted, working on years of instinct. This was who he was. Here he was on much safer ground than with courting and castles. He was a witcher, and fighting monster’s was what he was trained, and to some extent built, for.

The first slash didn’t kill the drowner, instead lopping off the arm that had so recently threatened to claw his eyes out. Then, with a clever twist of his wrist he sent his blade back the other direction, lopping off the head. It had taken all of a second from the point of the drowner’s lunge.

It’s companion was slinking up, ready to attack as well but Geralt didn’t need time to recharge. His senses honed in, he felt his pupils dilate to take in the low light coming between the trees and he leapt.

No normal man could have made the leap that sent him over the drowner’s shoulder and onto the shore behind. It hadn’t been the full length of the pond, but rather a diagonal leap that gave him just enough time as the creature spun around. Geralt brought his sword down and cleaved the thing in two.

“Holy shit.”

Geralt looked up, not even breathing hard.

Jaskier was still in his spot on the log. Unlike Geralt, he was breathing hard. There was a flush across the tops of his cheeks, pretty and pink, and his eyes were wide. Even from his spot across the pond Geralt could see the dark pupils and the blue of his irises.

Gerals severed the heads and warned Jaskier that he was removing the brains for his potions. His response was a squeaked ‘okay’.

Damn. Had he scared the lad? He didn’t smell scared. Geralt wasn’t sure what Jaskier did smell like.

He took the brains quickly and packaged them, then slung the heads of the drowner’s from Roach’s saddle.

Thunderbolt, Jaskier’s horse, had been left at the inn. Inaccurately named, the creature, despite his large size, was docile, gentle, and prone to startling.

Geralt dipped his hands in the scummy water and dried them on his pants to at least get off the worst of the gunk.

“Well?” he asked Jaskier.

“Wow,” the man said, stepping closer. “That was quick, too.”

Geralt grunted. “Only two.” He didn’t bother mounting up, leading Jaskier and Roach out of the forest and back towards town.

Jaskier’s heart still sounded like it was going a little fast.

“Frightened?” Geralt asked. The lad smelled like adrenaline and...oh.

“No, just...exhilarated I suppose. I’ve never seen a battle like it.”

Jaskier smelled aroused. Now that Geralt had realized what it was it was all he could smell. The scent clogged his nose and set his brain in a pink, fuzzy cloud. Did Jaskier think...? Would he want..?

Except, of course not. Everyone knew you could get sort of adrenaline high. Plenty of young warriors got a little...stiff after a battle. And being nineteen, Jaskier probably got, got in that situation, with a light breeze.

He was looking up at Geralt like he’d personally hung the moon, though. No one had ever, as long as he could remember, looked at him that way. There is a certain kind of beauty that comes with being kind to someone, Geralt knew. He hadn’t often seen it. Eskel had scars across his face that were frightening even to some other witchers but his friendship and care towards Geralt always blurred those over.

Now, in this fetid, swamp of a forest, Jaskier was developing that special beauty to Geralt as well.

He was loud and talked all the time, even now that he seemed to have regained his wits he was chattering about what he’d write. His voice sounded less harsh in Geralt’s ears, though. Because Jaskier thought Geralt was special, and that made him special in return.

They made it back to the inn, with a brief stop at the alderman’s house, muddy to the knee, although that wasn’t new. Geralt was also somewhat bloodspattered, which was horrible and wasn’t winning him favors with the townsfolk.

“Got a room?” he asked the innkeeper, a bent old man that Geralt could probably lift on one finger. As is the wont of many smart inkeepers, there was a taproom on the first floor of the inn, and he was industriously cleaning mugs.

“One,” the man said. “One room, one bed. No prostitutes, them ladies’ gotta do business elsewhere.”Geralt nodded and handed over the coin.

“Bathouse in town?” he asked. They followed the old inkeeper’s directions to the edge of town, near the river.

“I can’t wait for a good bed,” Jaskier said. “But I think I’m looking forward to this bath even more. I think my dirt has dirt on it, and my hair is disgusting. Yours too, will you let me wash it?”

Geralt wasn’t listening, also looking forward to the bath. He hummed in response.

“I hope it’s hot,” Jaskier continued. “No, hotter than that, I hope it’s boiling. I want to feel like a carrot in a stew pot when I get in.”

“You’d be a turnip,” Geralt said without thinking.

Jaskier sniffed. “And you’d be an onion.”

Geralt almost chuckled at that. The only reason he didn’t was that, at this moment, it was probably almost true. They both smelled pretty ripe. Jaskier had been correct, too, about there being layers to the grime. Geralt could almost peel himself. Like an onion.

“Anyway, I think I’d be something special, like a dash of pepper or, oh! I’d be a tomato.”

That caught Geralt off guard.

“What.”

“A tomato, when they’re cooked just right so they almost burst when you cut into them and the juice explodes all over your mouth.”

Geralt wasn’t going to think about any juices of any kind exploding all over anyone’s mouth. Especially not Jaskier’s mouth, with it’s pink lips and clever, wicked tongue that darted out from time to time to wet them.

“Don’t you think so, Geralt, aren’t I a tomato?”

“Hmmm.”

Jaskier did it again! It was liable to take Geralt’s sanity, the sight of him wetting his chapped lips like that. Maybe if he didn’t speak so much, worse, if he didn’t bite those lips so much, they wouldn’t be so chapped. For some reason Geralt had an insane desire to smear ointment across Jaskier’s lips with his own fingers.

They would feel so soft.

Geralt paid the bath house attendant and they followed directions to a separate area in the low, stone building, where they could strip off and have a sort of sponge bath. This was of course so that they didn’t get dirt and monster guts in the bath, and was done with each in their own little three-walled wooden stall. Geralt had to call for a second bucket of water to get the guts from his hair.

Sufficiently scrubbed, he stepped out into the main baths. Only then did he realize the crucial fault in his plan. They were open plan baths. Jaskier was beside him wearing nothing but a towel. Geralt, likewise in a towel, began to sweat.

He kept his eyes firmly forward and cursed his excellent witchery peripheral vision because he could see...see Jaskier. Dark chest hair, soft and slightly damp. The way a droplet of water trailed from the back of his hair and down his neck, wetting tender skin.

Fuck.

Jaskier walked towards the bath as if nothing was amiss. Of course, nothing was amiss, they were just two traveling companions. Having a bath. For Melitele’s sake they were married, even.

Geralt saw Jaskier’s foot hit a wet patch and the young man’s steps faltered, sliding a little. Geralt caught him with all his witcher speed, feeling Jaskier collide with his chest. Those blue eyes again, and yes, definitely silver in them.

Jaskier was blushing, whether from proximity or steam, Geralt didn’t know. He leaned in. Jaskier’s tongue wet those inviting lips again.

“You missed a spot on your cheek,” Geralt said, drawing back. He hadn’t been sure it wasn’t just a freckle, but it was definitely a bit of dirt. Jaskier sighed.

“Better get in and wash it off, then.”

Why did he sound dissapointed?

Geralt looked away as Jaskier released his towel and slid into the water, doing the same and waiting a second until he was absolutely sure it was safe to look. Jaskier had his head tilted back to rest against the floor, where the bath was sunk into the ground. Geralt sat next to him on the little ledge and let the warmth hit his muscles. It wasn’t boiling as Jaskier had hoped, but it was warm and lovely. The day’s fight hadn’t set any ache into Geralt’s muscles, but the days of sitting tensed up about Jaskier had, and he let them drift away.

Next to him Jaskier hummed contentedly and Geralt couldn’t help but agree. They lingered, not speaking, in the warm baths until they were truly pruny. Geralt neatly had to drag Jaskier out, but couldn’t risk Jaskier becoming too drowsy and drowning.

They toweled off and redressed and were back at the inn in time for supper and for Jaskier to play.

Geralt sat in the back of the small taproom, glowering about at anyone who looked like they might get close. He would have gladly gone up to their room and not bothered but Jaskier was performing. He couldn’t leave the bard there, where anyone could attack him, or ply him with too much alcohol and rob him or worse. Besides, he was curious.

Jaskier was capable, in an odd sort of way that was so far different from what Geralt was used to, but he was good at things. There was nothing he tried that he seemed to be terribly bad at. Geralt wasn’t a good judge of music, but he wanted to see if this applied to performing.

As he’d suspected, it did. Jaskier was masterful. Not only was his music top notch, but all his energy, the liveliness, the live wire electricity of him was directed when he performed. Normally, all that energy seemed to make Jaskier’s thoughts and actions a little disorganized, almost mess. Here, in this dingy little tavern, it made him radiant. Every eye was watching, every gaze enthralled, at least for a short time. If Geralt’s medallion hadn’t lain still on his chest he would have called it magic.

It was incredibly sexy. This was Jaskier in his element, fierce and confident and wearing the doublet Geralt had given him.

That struck a strange little shiver down Geralt’s spine. A piece of Geralt, prancing about, tied to Jaskier. The gift of the wolves of Kaer Morhen shimmered and twisted with his movements, the black pearl buttons catching dim light. Every eye was on Jaskier, some more salaciously than others, but Geralt couldn’t have cared less. He wouldn’t have cared even if someone had kissed Jaskier there and then. Geralt had no claim to Jaskier like that, they were only married in name. But they were married, and somehow Jaskier so proudly wearing that doublet meant more than a kiss ever could.

A little part in the back of Geralt’s brain wondered if he could have a kiss and Jaskier wearing the doublet, but that was silly.

Geralt went out to see Roach briefly when the performance was over. The applause was too much for his ears and his head, but ran back in when he heard the shouts.

Three men had Jaskier against a wall, looking furious, and Jaskier looked angrier than they were.

“Let him go,” Geralt growled, hand going for his sword...which was upstairs in their room.

Fuck.

The men turned to him, all holding knives that were only knives because no one let swords get that jagged.

“Your whore here,” one of them said with a shrug towards Jaskier. “Was telling us all how we shouldn’t talk shit about you witchers.”

“Yeah,” sneared another man with rotten teeth and even more rotten breath. “Got all righteous.” He stepped forward, raising his knife. “Said we ought to be thankful.

Geralt felt his muscles tense, gearing for a fight he really, really didn’t want to have.

“I think we oughta show you our ‘gratitude’,” said the third man.

“Or I can show you the door to the next world,” a voice purred. It was Jaskier.

“What is poking into your kidney, or thereabouts,” the bard continued. “Is a fish knife, I believe. I picked it up off the table. It’s pretty sharp, so I wouldn’t recommend moving very quickly. I would recommend, if you like to keep living, dropping your weapons, all three of you, and just walking away.”

The man’s compatriots looked at Jaskier in confusion. Jaskier pressed the knife in just a hair’s breadth further.

“Do it,” growled the man currently held hostage. Three knives clattered on the floor.

“Very good,” Jaskier purred in a voice that was both menacing and sent electric signals all the way down Geralt’s spine. “I can see you’re the brains of the outfit. Now apologize to my friend.”

“Wha..?”

Jaskier twitched his knife hand. “Apologize. To. My. Friend.”

“I’mverysorrymisterwitcher,” the man said, all in one breath.

“Good, and?”

“And...and thank you for getting rid of the monsters?” said the man, hesitantly. Jaskier let down the knife.

“Scram,” he said. The three toughs fled.

“A fish knife?” Geralt asked, trying not to focus on how spine tinglingly sexy that had been.

Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t keep weapons on me usually. Shall we go to bed?”

Bed turned out to be an overstatement. It was pretty much a cot, and a very slim one at that, but neither of them were going to sleep on the rough floorboards so they squished in together.

Jaskier snuggled up to Geralt with contented little humming noises and laid his head on his chest. In the corner, in the moonlight from the window, Geralt could see the basilisk leather doublet where it lay on Jaskier’s pack. It would be a shame, he thought, wrapping his arms around Jaskier to keep him from tipping entirely out of the narrow bed. To part from his husband in Oxenfurt.

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Tag List!

@llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar@aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam @sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest @innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast @toothhurtyam @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna @limevodka @rocknrollphanda @seralyra @permanently-exhausted-witcher @aj-itated @watchthewolvesfall @00qtee @the-blondey @birds-of-forgiveness @west-moor @abstractartwithoutpaint @darkonesdagger7437 @onwardsandfourwords @underwaterattribute @whenrainbowsend @goldbvtton @little-piece-of-tamlin @in-love-with-writing002 @flustratedcas @fontegagrilledcheese @so--many-fandoms @kirk-spock-in-the-impala @oniongrass @flowercrown-bard @maya-the-yellow-bee @thecomfortofoldstorries @wellthisstinks @flowercrown-bard @obsessedchildsworld @debellatis @zotinha456 @tumbleweedtech @goblin-loves-shiny-things @birdsflyhome @holymotherwolf @the-shenny-of-azkaban @enkelikauneus @silvermirror1997 @just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard@iamaqt314 @itsthelittlethingsnlife @oneshots-galore @inikokoru @gryffinqueen

People who I tried to tag but can’t seem to: @ailorian @thenameislion-dandelion @darkangel91939 @saphiramalbec

Supposed to be tagged and weren’t? Is your tag listed but not actually linked? I’m having some trouble, so let me know!

#geraskier #the witcher #arranged marriage au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #BAMF Jaskier #Bath scene #briefly #pining #miscommunication #they each think the other is sexy #and that they couldn't possibly be interested

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tchallasbabymama · 3 years

Text

Troubled Waters Prologue

Hey y’all! Some of you may have seen this already, but I took it down and reworked it a little bit. Check out my masterlist to read my other stories, and let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!

Word count: 1,723

Aziza [a-zee-za] noun: A benevolent magical species with moderate stature, pointed ears, colorful wings, and deep brown skin that always has a slight glow. They enjoy music, dancing, and frolicking with human children. They also have a propensity for plant magic and hunting and tend to dwell in or around the rainforest.

Long before humans ever stepped foot in Wakanda, the aziza were appointed guardians of the land by the panther goddess, Bast. Aziza lived in harmony with the other magical beings, with a few exceptions, and the queen of the aziza ruled over all of Wakanda. That is until these strange, magicless creatures stumbled into the forest one day and were immediately accosted by some of the more malevolent beings that inhabited the land. Several aziza sprang into action to protect the newcomers and were able to stop the evil obambo from possessing them and driving them mad. When the heroic team of aziza brought the defenseless humans to the queen, she welcomed them into her kingdom with open arms and gave them their own plot of land that was locked between her forest and a dangerous mountain range.

When left to their own devices, the humans began to fight with each other over resources and the right to rule. Queen Ani grew tired of the fighting and called on Bast to help end the constant wars. The goddess instructed her to find a man named Bashenga and bring him to her garden. Apparently, her favorite flower had a strange effect on humans. To all the other beings under her rule, the flower simply acted as an ointment of sorts, but it made humans powerful. Queen Ani followed Bast’s instructions and ground up the petals for Bashenga to consume. She buried him in the rich soil, and when he emerged minutes later, he was a new man. He was a leader, a champion, a king.

Humans and magical beings lived in harmony in isolation from the outside world for centuries until a strange thing started happening on the continent. People were disappearing from the western coast, and when the queen of the aziza heard about it, she brought it to the human king’s attention. King Amir refused to help out of fear of exposing his kingdom to the world, and Queen Onara became incensed. She couldn’t believe he was turning his back on his own kind. The queen wanted nothing more to do with him and his cowardly people, so she called on Bast again. The goddess made another realm within Wakanda for the magical creatures to live in. Onara assumed it would be difficult to get the other species on board, but, as it turned out, most of them were eager to get away from the humans. It seemed the only ones that actually liked them were the aziza, but that quickly changed upon hearing of their negligence. A few even chose to travel to the new world in disguise to help the humans that had been taken. The aziza operatives did their best to help them, but there were just too many for them to save. Their numbers were few, but they were able to perform small acts of magic to help where they could.

Over the years, magical creatures became a thing of the past to the Wakandans. They became bedtime stories and folk tales, but nobody truly believed in their existence anymore except for the children the aziza would occasionally visit when they felt like being playful.

————

One sunny afternoon, a little aziza was playing down by the river when she sneezed, and her surroundings changed. Everything looked almost the same but slightly less vibrant despite the bold greens and blues around her. She turned around and couldn’t see her village in the distance, but instead, she saw a boy about her age splashing in the water.

She emerged from behind the bushes and called out to him, “Sawubona!”

The boy looked up, and his eyebrows furrowed. He was sure he had been alone.

“Um, mholweni...ungubani?”

“I’m Nia. Who are you?”

“You speak Xhosa?”

“I speak a bunch of languages,” she giggled. “You speak Zulu?”

“Yeah. I bet I speak more languages than you,” he challenged her.

Nia’s face scrunched up as she counted up all the languages she knew.

“I speak thirteen so far, but I’m only eight,” she shrugged.

“Wow, thirteen?! I can only speak five.” He looked dejected, and she hated seeing the look on his face, so she quickly changed the subject.

“Can I swim with you?”

“Sure, but...where did you come from?” the boy asked as he looked around. “You just sort of came out of nowhere.”

Nia was young, but she knew she was in the human realm. She had visited plenty of times with her ubaba and knew it well. She just wasn’t sure how she got there this time. However, she knew not to tell him exactly what she was, so the little aziza tucked her ears under her colorful headband as she stepped closer and tried to think of a good explanation.

“My ubaba says I’m sneaky like that,” she shrugged. “Want to play tag?”

“You’re it!” he yelled as he splashed her and swam away as fast as he could. She cut her eyes at him and wiggled out of her clothes before jumping in after him. She quickly caught up to him, much to his surprise, but he stopped when it was his turn to chase her. The boy noticed something strange on her back as she swam away, and he grew concerned.

“What happened?”

Nia quickly turned around, confused by the tone of his voice, “To what?”

“To you. The scars,” he pointed to her back.

“Oh,” Nia had to think fast again. “It’s just a really big birthmark.”

“Really? That’s so cool! It looks like two wings,” he mused before his eyes lit up and he gasped loudly. “What if you can fly?”

“I wish,” she said with a certain sadness to her voice that confused him. He noticed the heaviness in her eyes and decided to lighten to mood a little by splashing her in her face. It worked, and they were off again.

The two of them spent the afternoon splashing away in the river, laughs echoing loudly as they played until a deep voice called out, and the boy froze.

“T’Challa!”

“Coming, baba!” he yelled back before turning to his new friend, who had just figured out that she had been playing with the Crown Prince of Wakanda this whole time. “I have to go. I’m not supposed to be out here.”

Nia’s face deflated until she looked at the shadows and realized too much time had passed since she left home. She nodded solemnly, and they swam to shore. They begrudgingly got dressed in silence until T’Challa spoke up.

“Can I see you again? I had fun today… I don’t get to have fun often,” he looked at the ground, and she hugged him tight to make him smile.

“I can come back tomorrow,” Nia said, making his face light up.

“Deal!”

The two kids said their goodbyes, and Nia watched as T’Challa ran through the trees towards the disembodied voice. She turned around to leave the same way she came and jumped at the sight of her father.

“Did you have fun?” he asked with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Nia nodded enthusiastically, “I made a friend!”

“I saw,” he chuckled. “How’d you get over on this side?”

“I sneezed,” Nia shrugged as she grabbed her ubaba’s hand, and they shimmered back over to the magic realm. That night, he began to teach her how to clear her mind and travel between the realms intentionally. Nia took to it quickly, and she was excited to explore the human realm, her mother’s realm, more than ever before.

Amare, an aziza, and Celeste, a human, met and fell in love while he was stationed in New York for his first tour as a secret operative. When Amare heard about what the human Wakandans had allowed to happen to their kin, he jumped at the chance to make a difference. It was a dangerous job, dealing with humans and the occasional fae, but he loved it. Almost immediately, he met and fell in love with Celeste, a vivacious and opinionated brown-skinned beauty from Harlem. They lived together for two blissful years before they found out they were expecting a child. Celeste was over the moon, but Amare couldn’t help but worry. There had been very few half-human, half aziza babies over the years, but they always took a massive toll on human mothers. Amare knew then that he might have to say goodbye to the love of his life. Sadly, he was right. The baby’s higher need for energy to fuel her growing magic drained her mother dry, and Celeste was even too weak to push. She didn’t survive the cesarean.

Amare brought his baby girl back home to Wakanda, and they lived in a small home near the rainforest on the outskirts of the Border province that he had enchanted to straddle both realms. He raised Nia the same as any other aziza child, but they often traveled to the human realm so she could be among her people. Before popping over to the other side, he’d always cast a glamour spell to hide his wings, making them lay flush against his back so that they looked like intricate tattoos. Nia was always jealous of her dad’s bright orange wings since she never got hers, just the giant wing-shaped scars that covered her back. She always felt a little broken, like she wasn’t as good as the other aziza kids, so when she met T’Challa she was excited to have her first human friend. Or so she thought.

Nia went back to the river the next day and waited for T’Challa. She waited and waited, but he was nowhere to be found. She tried again every day for a week, but he never showed. His absence started to weigh on her, and Amare hated to see his little girl look so sad. After day seven, he put a stop to it and Nia eventually gave up on her so-called friend. However, the pain of his abandonment never really went away.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @impremenior, @ljstraightnochaser

#cecewritessometimes #black panther au #black panther fanfiction #t'challa x oc #black!oc #troubled waters

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takuyakistall · 4 years

Text

summary: a mountain deity meets a suspicious eel.

length: 5k+

taku’s notes: ah, I finally posted this. It was meant to be posted for a previous milestone but it was delayed, but here it is now jbhjfb I may have gotten carried away with this when I first thought of the AU;;; also !! special thanks to ghostie and rui for helping me with this. If you see this, ily !! this also a three way collab with sven and @xxunrxvelingxx !! please check out their fics when they post it hehe~ they’ll be making separate fics that will go along with our agreed theme which is legends and myths from our home countries. In my case, this was inspired by the story of Maria Makiling!

"I have provided you everything the mountain has to offer and yet you greedy humans still want more?“ The thunder boomed, matching your footsteps as you made your way to sit on a log stool. Crossing your legs, you said, “I’ve had enough of you humans trying to steal my valuables.” Rain suddenly started to pour down, soaking the four men standing in front of the mountain deity.

They were shaking in fear as they saw the look you were giving them, they heard that you were usually a gentle and kind person who had never laid a hand on the village folk who lived on the mountain. They scrambled to their feet, with pitiful expressions on their faces as they desperately tried to run away. You made no effort to chase them as you already knew there was no way they would make it back alive. This mountain is your domain, surely they would get lost and stay trapped here forever.

You were usually a kind being but you would spare no mercy for those who enter the mountain with malicious intentions. The locals knew better than to do that but — unfortunately, those men who tried to steal from you were foreigners.

Your rage didn’t go away instead, it had gotten stronger. The rain was getting heavier, a flood was ready to form and an earthquake was about to start. There was no room for the village folk inside your head, your rage had overruled every moral you once upheld. It was cruel of you to bring these disasters to innocent people — however, nobody would dare to cross you ever again. They knew that angering a deity was never a bright idea, especially if they still had plans to live.

“Hah… Foolish humans..! Always scurrying around, striving to attack me and rob me of my riches. In the end, they’ll just meet their doom.”

There was something off about the man who entered the mountain. It seemed like he was struggling to walk. The rage you felt days ago has now disappeared and you felt the need to help the struggling man. You jumped off a tree branch you were sitting on to get a better look on his face — heterochromic eyes, it was unusual to see those around here, especially when you had isolated yourself in the mountains. He had teal hair with a darker and longer strand framing the left side of his face. He was beautiful, your breath was taken away the moment you laid your eyes upon him.

Then you finally decide to appear in front of him. His senses did not pick up your presence since he was too busy trying to regain his balance. When he finally looked ahead and saw you, his eyes widened and slipped.

“Ah-!” He was about to fall. He still wasn’t used to being able to walk on land, his balance was still sloppy and the way he walked was unnatural. Ever since his tail turned into human legs, he’s been walking aimlessly on land with nothing but a dirty tunic on. He had nobody to teach him about how land folks act or lived, he quickly became an outcast among the villagers by the mountain, which sparked your curiosity.

“..! Be more careful!” You grabbed his hand before he could fall, pulling him up to safety. He finally got a proper look at his saviour and the sight took his breath away. Were you the mountain deity they talked about back in the village? He kept a straight face while trying to connect the dots in his head. Weren’t you the reason he tried to climb the mountain? The blue haired man couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle, “Forgive me, it seems that I’m still not accustomed to my newly acquired legs.” He spoke in a gentlemanly manner which surprises you. Maybe it was because of his dirty tunic that you thought he was going to be a bit more rough around the edges. You knew it was bad to judge a book by its cover and yet you still couldn’t help but do it anyway.

“What’s your name?” The cold tone in your voice sent shivers to the man’s spine, surely you had the aura of a deity! He heard the rumours about the gentle and kind lady up in the mountains, but it seemed like you were still kind of ticked off by the last incident he heard about. The man put his hand by his chest and introduced himself with a smile, “I go by Jade, Jade Leech. Would the lovely lady also do the honor of giving me her name?” It was faint but you noticed it — he was dangerous.

It didn’t take long for you to become attached to Jade, he charmed you the moment you met. Your first meeting consisted of you asking Jade a few questions about himself while walking through the woods. You discovered that Jade originally had no legs, thus his lack of ability to be able to walk properly. You offered him help and thankfully, he was a fast learner when provided with guidance. In less than a day, he had already mastered how to walk with his own two legs.

You were bound to the mountain, you could never leave because you are its guardian. Shall you ever try to leave, your body would run out of oxygen and pass. It seems like Jade was a little fond of your company as he went back up in the mountains the following day.

He was still wearing the dirty tunic when he came to visit you today, you had seen this coming so you had a nearby pixie fetch you some clothes for the tall man. When you handed the clothes to him, he couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, he was intimidated by your cold demeanor yesterday but today it seemed like you were finally fitting the positive rumours surrounding you. A kind and gentle lady who would often go to the village to give your blessings. “Thank you,” Jade hummed out, straying far from you to change into the clothes you gave him. You felt your cheeks flare up a bit when he gave you a smile. You couldn’t help but wonder how this blooming friendship of yours would end. After all, he’s just a mortal, isn’t he?

28 days remain.

“Oya, a new mushroom to add my collection.” Jade was delighted as he crouched down to examine the newly found mushrooms on the ground. You mentally compare the current Jade you know to the Jade you first met — it seemed like he was an entirely different person. He picks up land dwellers’ qualities and habits fast and now you wouldn’t even dare think about how this man didn’t know how to walk properly just a week ago!

You tried to introduce him to a lot of things the mountain has to offer and yet somehow, he found himself climbing up the mountain on a daily basis just to see you. The village folk were a bit skeptical due to his odd behavior and at his sudden transformation, but they soon dropped the gossip when someone told them the both of you were lovers. It was a ridiculous thought but you never said anything when you saw how they had treated Jade better.

The more time you spent with him, the more you felt these complicated feelings, like your heart was tied to a knot. The way he smiled at you made it feel like your heart was being squeezed, and the way his eyes sparkled when he talked about mushrooms was simply too adorable! You noticed all the little things about Jade and it made you wonder about how you were going to label these feelings you have for him. You liked to believe that you know everything about the world, but the world loves proving you wrong. You were still naive, even if you are a deity.

21 days remain.

“You’ve gotten better at acting like a land dweller.” Your cold tone made it clear to Jade that something definitely happened to piss you off while he was away. Perhaps it was another human trying to rob you of your riches? Or to take your head as a trophy? No. Jade shook his head at the thought of someone trying to harm you. After all, it is impossible to do so.

For the past few weeks, he has somehow grown accustomed to your sudden coldness and harsh tones. The people that heard of the mountain deity’s treasures have increased and were bold enough to challenge themselves against you. They gathered into groups and shouted out insults directed at you. You had neither time nor patience to deal with every pest that was bold enough to threaten you, so you had the mountain itself deal with them. If they entered the mountain, they would surely get lost and never be seen again due to natural reasons.

The only reason why Jade and a few villagers were able to enter the mountain and get back unharmed is because you let them. The moment you sense malicious intent directed at you — they would be disposed of. You were merciless when it came to matters regarding your life and the state of the mountain. Jade knew that, both of you spent enough time together for him to know these kinds of things. With slow steps, Jade approached you, his usual smile was absent and this surprised you a bit. His expression was serious while cupping your cheek with his bare hands, it was warm. You found yourself rub your cheek against his comforting touch, he knew exactly what you were feeling and this reassured you. Jade pulled back his hand and placed it on your head instead, ruffling your hair a bit, “Have you been resting well?”

Truth be told, you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep ever since the attacks increased. Your guard was always up and a chance to sleep never came. However, when Jade ruffled your hair, every muscle in your body relaxed, you fought the urge to close your eyes. Jade didn’t fail to notice your tired state and sat beside you on the log stool that was big enough to hold the two of you. He made you lean against his broad shoulder while stroking your head, his comforting touch making you go closer and closer to your desired rest. You closed your eyes and drifted into sleep, not hearing Jade’s endearing words “Sleep well, My beloved.”

14 days remain.

“Have you done it yet?” Jade entered his temporary lodging to see a beautiful young woman with long black hair sitting on his bed. Jade’s warm eyes turned cold as he glared at the woman who intruded his home. Jade didn’t bother to put up the gentlemanly act anymore. He lunged forward towards the woman and wrapped his fingers around her neck, lifting her smaller figure up in the air as Jade squeezed her neck. The woman was letting out choked noises as Jade continued to give her a cold glare. “W-Wait!” She managed to let out a word, Jade stopped for a moment. “You still need me, you can’t kill me.” The panicked and pained expression on the woman’s face brought immense pleasure to Jade. Oh how he loathed this woman! Jade was ready to snap her neck, staring coldly into her eyes as he squeezed her neck a bit more before suddenly letting go. The woman fell to the ground, hacking out coughs as she tried to regain oxygen in her system. Jade’s unusual rage has calmed down a bit after thinking rationally, he went into his kitchen and brought out some teacups, “Would you like some tea?”

The sweet aroma filled the cozy house as Jade delicately poured tea into the teacups. The woman sitting across him had a suspicious look, staring at the teacup. “Oh, please go ahead. Don’t be shy.” Jade insisted, an eerily calm smile decorating his face, as though the earlier events hadn’t happened at all. “It’s not poisoned, is it? I know how badly you want me dead but,” the woman pushed away the teacup, crossing her legs and arms as a confident look suddenly decorated her face. “If you still want your precious twin brother to live, I suggest you shouldn’t kill me.” Jade’s gentlemanly smile curled up into a big smirk as he set down his teacup, “And what made you think that I still needed you to do so? You’re basically useless.“

For a moment, the woman shot Jade a terrified look. She knew that Jade was capable of killing her at any given time, she had to think of an excuse to stay alive. “You won’t be able to use the deity’s heart to cure Floyd without me.” It was true. Even if Jade has gotten the deity’s heart right in his palms, he wouldn’t be able to use it to treat Floyd’s condition. Jade frowned upon hearing the words ‘deity’s heart’. It was the only reason why Jade approached you, he was skillful in deceiving others and masking his true intentions. Though it seemed like his mask was slowly breaking the more time he spent with you. It was true that he was fond of you — very fond but Jade wouldn’t allow himself to admit the feelings he held for you.

If he ever admitted to himself that he fell in love with you, it would just pain him more thinking about the cruel acts he was about to commit. “I’m close to obtaining her heart. Once I get my hands on it, we’re going back to the Coral Sea immediately.” His monotonous voice scared the woman a bit, how could he be so calm when he’s about to betray a deity? “Got it, witch?” Jade coldly asked the woman. The said woman snapped out of her daze and refuted, “Don’t call me that, I told you, my name is-"

"Do I look like I care?”

7 days remain.

“Dancing? When did you learn how to dance, Jade?” Jade only let out a mere chuckle as you gave him a curious glance. You looked better than before — the color of your face was slowly coming back thanks to Jade. His presence soothed you and you couldn’t help but let your guard down — you trust him. It has only been a month since the two of you met but you would already trust him with your life. What is this feeling…? What did humans call it again? Attachment..? Or was it fondness…or love? You didn’t know the answer. The moonlight shined upon both of your figures sitting down on the grass. “Do you underestimate me that much?” A teasing smirk appeared on his face, you panicked for a moment because deep down, you actually did underestimate him a bit. You looked away from him, a light hue of pink dusting your cheeks. Shame rising up from the pit of your stomach.

“Oh my, it seems like I’ve gotten my answer. It’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t disappointed.” Jade faked tears, wiping them away dramatically as you giggled at his actions. Jade stood up from the grass, his polite smile never disappearing from his face. Even though he gave everyone that smile, you couldn’t help but feel like there was an underlying tone of feelings and affection he held for you. Yet, you brushed it off like it was nothing — still denying the fact that you were indeed falling in love with him. Jade outstretched his hand towards you, trying to help you up. At that moment, you couldn’t help but think that you were becoming so helpless around him.

Hesitantly, you took his hand as he helped you up to your feet. You stumbled forward a bit and lost your footing, almost falling had it not been for Jade who catched you before you fell. “Careful!” He warned you, wrapping his arms around your figure as you steadied your balance. You could feel his heart beating, you closed your eyes and allowed your head to lean into his chest — listening to nothing but the beat of his heart. Is this what it means to fall in love? Jade was taken aback for a moment, he didn’t expect you to suddenly rest your head against his chest while standing up. He let out a sigh as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, his gaze filled with an unexplainable fondness. Oh how he wished this moment lasted forever.

3 days remain

It was dangerous and weak of you to allow yourself to be comforted by the presence of a mere mortal, even the forest pixies told you this themselves. It was a huge mess in the mountains when Jade wasn’t here. You suddenly felt sad at the thought of the earlier events.

“Lady (Y/N)! Forgive our insolence but we are begging you to cut ties with that mortal.” the pixies bowed down, they didn’t dare to look into your eyes — fear evident in their expressions. The pixie who talked to you, Daphne, was the wisest of the bunch — she had stayed in the mountain for far longer than you have. It was safe to say that she was wiser than you but the one who holds the most power was you — the mountain deity. Daphne didn’t have a single hint of fear on her face as she held her head up high, her blue locks tucked behind her pointed ear as she stared at you.

Rage coursed through every part of your body as your harmless gaze at them suddenly turned hostile. The gravity suddenly weighed down on all of them, forcing them onto their knees except Daphne. Had it not been for her power she accumulated during the years she had lived, she would be most likely on her knees as well. “What did you just say, Daphne?” Your mind wasn’t in its best state due to the responsibilities you had to fulfill doubled, every living being in the mountain knew that and they could see how stressed you were through the mountain’s state. They noticed how the mountain would flourish a little whenever a certain teal haired mortal decided to visit you, they knew that he was a double edged sword to their deity. Though they knew that he was a potential threat to you, when they saw how happy you looked when you’re with him, they couldn’t help but let the both of you be.

“That mortal man named Jade- He’s not what you think he is.” Daphne calmly responded, she’d been suspicious of him from the very beginning. Those words made the raging flames in your heart burn stronger. You knew deep inside that she was right. You knew he held ill intent from the moment you first met yet you just- You just blindly ignored it like the fool you were. Yet you were reminded of the way he called you his beloved when he thought you were fast asleep, it was one of your sweetest memories with him. You can’t allow yourself to believe that the gentle fondness in his voice that night was all fake.

“He’s after your heart.”

Those words pierced you right through the heart, uncontrollable tears suddenly forming at the corner of your eyes. You wanted to tell them that he was a good man, that he loved you. Your gaze dropped down to the ground, unable to say anything. The mountain spoke for you. The flowers were withering at a lightning fast speed and so did the trees. The wild animals, some died and some were dying. The waters were drying up, and the ground was ready to collapse any time soon. You wanted to cry. Memories of last night came flooding back. The way he held you so close to him, when you listened to his heartbeat? It was all an act to get your heart?

Daphne wasn’t telling her the whole story, she just wanted Jade gone. She left out the part about Jade’s brother because she knew that being the lovesick fool you were — you would gladly give up your heart to him. She decided to fan the flames, “I… also saw a black haired woman in his house.” Daphne cringed at herself, she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. She glanced at your forlorn expression before continuing, “I think she might be his lover.” Everything seemed to stop at that very moment. You stopped wasting your tears, the thunder clapped. Daphne knew she messed up when she saw your expression — filled with burning rage.

“It’s for his dying brother.” A small pixie speaked out, receiving a harsh glare from Daphne when she did.

“Flora! You…!”

Everything stopped for a moment, you held a confused expression on your face as you signalled the small pixie named Flora to inch closer to you. You had hope that everything wasn’t a lie. There was nothing more you’ve ever wanted. You desperately wanted to believe that Jade wasn’t a cold blooded jerk that only approached you for your heart. “Tell me about his brother.” Your weak commanding tone made Flora’s heart shatter into pieces, she could tell how much pain you were in. Meekly, Flora started to explain to you the things she saw and heard when she went to follow Jade to the village; the black haired woman who was waiting for him at his home, the way how Jade choked her, the hateful expression on his face, the things they discussed over tea, and how Jade needed your heart to cure his poisoned twin brother. Flora didn’t leave out the fact that the woman with Jade was actually the one who poisoned his brother and how there were only a few days left before Jade goes back to his hometown.

You were oddly happy. Happy by the fact that everything might not turn out to be a lie and that the Jade you were so fond of was real. Though you were laughable, you were an idiot in love. Love…? Is this what they call this feeling? You loved Jade to the point that you forgave him. Even if he didn’t confess himself, you were willing to forgive him over and over again. You were a fool. The biggest fool in the whole damn mountain. Though if it was for Jade, the man who taught you love and the first man you ever loved, you didn’t mind being called a lovesick fool who ruined her own life.

2 days left

Jade was running out of time, he could feel his lungs having difficulty trying to breathe as he climbed the mountain. The potion was wearing off and he needed to get your heart and return to the sea now — but he didn’t want to leave, he didn’t want his time with you to end just yet. He wanted more time with you. However, his brother comes first before anything else, including you. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he just abandoned Floyd just like that — it would be unacceptable. Jade’s heart was in deep turmoil as he took a step after the other, why didn’t he.. want to leave you? He stopped in his tracks, his hand clutching his chest tightly as he felt like his heart was being squeezed. He didn’t want to admit it — he would never. If he did, he would never be able to go back to the sea. He continued walking towards your usual meeting area.

The frown on his face immediately lightened up into a small smile when he saw your figure fiddling with a bunch of leaves. As he went closer, he could notice that you were crying. He kneeled down next to you and asked, “…Are you okay?” gently, Jade tried to place his hand on your shoulder as a form of comfort. You flinched, moving back a bit from his touch and accidentally hitting your head against a tree branch in the process. Jade quickly tried to pull you close to him to inspect what might be a wound on your head. Yet you- you desperately tried to avoid any form of contact with him, your lips sealed shut as you walked away from him to sit on a stone stool. Jade’s heart broke a little.

You were still trying to compose yourself, tomorrow was your last day with him. You could already see him getting paler and weaker, his withdrawals were getting worse. You needed to think of something, anything. You were going to let him go today, he can have more time to go back to the sea. So he can live. Yet a huge part of you is screaming ‘Don’t!’ You felt weak and afraid, you didn’t know what choice to make but deep down you knew what was the right decision. Mustering up enough courage, your breath shaky, you spoke up. “Jade."

Jade had never heard you sound so helpless, your voice was shaking, eyes brimming with tears. What happened to you? It was a bit of a shock, for you to call out his voice with such a painfully sad expression on your face. He wanted to know how he could make you feel better, he was about to wrap his arms around you again but he quickly retracted his arm when he remembered how you reacted earlier. So he kept his distance. "Yes…?” He anticipated your next words, hands shaking — his body was slowly turning back. He needed water but he forced himself to stay still and endure the painful withdrawal that came with it.

You clasped your hands together, muttering a short chant under your breath as something in between your hands started to glow. A single shard of what seemed to be like a gemstone — a piece of jade. It was your heart, clearly influenced by your undeniable feelings for this man you met less than a month ago. Your jaded heart, it was what Jade was after all this time. Once it was in your hands, you clasped it tightly one more time before facing Jade. Tears blurring your vision, “Just… take it.”

Jade’s blood went cold, how…? Did you finally figure out his true intentions? Are you mad? Countless questions popped up inside his mind and his heart rate going faster by the second as he tried to make sense of the situation. Will he lie one more time? Or will he grab the golden opportunity in front of him? Before he could make a decision, he abandoned all sense of reason and pulled you into a passionate kiss. You were caught off guard, yet you kissed him back without any hint of hesitation at all. Your faces so close — your tears started to mix and you didn’t want to let go of him. Neither did he. After pulling away from your heated kiss, he finally managed to mutter out the words he was so afraid of saying.

“I love you.”

1 day remains

The cool breeze caressed Jade’s cheek as he ran through the forest, your heart grasped tightly in his hand as he desperately gasped for air. He needed to get back, now. The black haired woman from the other day was already ahead of him, looking back occasionally at Jade to make sure he wasn’t dead from the withdrawal symptoms. Memories of last night weighed so much in Jade’s mind, he felt like he was choking as he ran — his legs heavy as he started to sweat more than usual. Yet he didn’t stop running, you gave him this chance to let him and his brother live and he was not about to let it go to waste. He ran and ran and ran until he could finally see the sea.

Jade immediately jumped into the water, taking in the familiar feeling of being submerged in water once again — not once did his grip loosen around your heart. He allowed himself to breathe for a moment, letting the transformation take its place as his legs turned into a tail. He was slowly letting himself sink to the bottom of the sea, nobody could tell that he was crying from the wet environment of the sea.

One look at Jade and you can immediately tell that he was empty, void of emotion as he stared at your heart — placing a gentle kiss on it as he muttered under his breath, “Perhaps in another life, we could be lovers once again."

This is a story about how a foolish mountain deity sacrificed her heart, the very core of her being, to a mere mortal. A story about how cruel fate can be, and how it ruined them. The ending? The mountain deity fell into an eternal slumber after giving her heart up to her lover, unable to wake up after hundreds of years. The mortal man cured his brother and lived a somewhat happy life, longing to see his beloved deity once again on land and was killed after multiple attempts of going to land.

Perhaps things would’ve been different if they made different choices, perhaps they’d be happily living as a couple now but fate is not so nice, no? There is no happy ending for this disastrous pair, only ruin awaits them if they were to ever meet again in their next lives. They were both fools in the end.

"Eh~? Jade, Jade~! Did you hear about the transfer student coming today?” Floyd made grabby hands at Jade, excitement bubbling up from the pit of his stomach, will he find another person to squeeze? Jade let out a sigh, seemingly uninterested in the topic but decided to entertain Floyd. “Yes, it does make me feel a bit excited, fufu~”

The class silenced down so quickly, your footsteps towards the class stage could be heard.

“Hello everyone, my name is (Y/N) (L/N)! Nice to meet you all!"

Jade’s eyes gleamed with growing intrigue, why did you seem familiar to him in some way? He didn’t dwell on that for long though, he just decided that if fate decided to make you a part of his life, then so be it.

And it begins all over again.

#self indulgent takoyaki #hahaha more jade #twst writing #twst #twst x reader #angst #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland jade #jade leech x reader #twst jade #jade #jade leech #fem!reader

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lizacstuff · 3 years

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Can’t wait to read you thoughts on this episode. Eda and Serkan are getting engaged! ngl seeing the rings did something to me, I haven’t recovered yet.

I KNOW!!!!! I missed the rings so much. When folks were upset during the filming of 20 when it became apparent he wasn't wearing the ring anymore, I remember saying that they have to take them off so they can put them back on for real, and it will be oh so sweet when they do. Flashforward six weeks and YES!!!! Just seeing those rings again is sweet we're going to die when they actually slip them on during the next episode. I'm not attached to any of my own jewelry the way I'm attached to their rings, lmao.

As a whole this episode was very enjoyable for me. The new writers clearly realized they needed a mood change after episode 25, and I was thrilled to see the show return to its roots. The tone felt more like the first batch of episodes than any in recent memory. What a relief. Also I've said prior to this that I suspected that where we would feel Ayse's absence was in the humor and lack of sparkle. Well I thought this episode had plenty of both, so I stand corrected. The first Edser scene with Serkan gliding by Eda without saying a word and then having his trusty sidekick Leyla keep an eye on what they were doing outside set the light comedic tone and put everything on the right footing from the get go.

More later on Edser, let's start with all the nonsense they use to fill the rest of the 2+ hours.

(continue under the read more)

What in the frack is Babaanne's endgame? Does she have one? Is it to take revenge on Serkan? To get Eda back in her orbit? Or just to cause chaos? Or is she testing them? Not sure.

I enjoyed the scene between mom and son, Aydan and Serkan's relationship has really become one of the best on the show, certainly better than recent Eda/Ayfer. Which is interesting, because in the pilot they established that while Serkan may be rich with material things, he was lacking in love and emotional familial support, while Eda was poor in regards to material things, but was surrounded by love in the form of her family/friends. Though perhaps one of the greatest gifts Eda's given Serkan is an improved relationship with his mother, and the impetus to distance himself from his unloving father. While Serkan has inspired her growing independence from her aunt.

Speaking of them, let's move on to Aydan and Ayfer. PLEASE MADE THIS CHEF NONSENSE END! Good grief. I really don't enjoy watching these two ladies making total asses of themselves over this douche. Both of them trying to catch him on his jog and then going along with his aikido nonsense. It feels like he's just playing with them for his own amusement. Both deserve better and I don't even like Ayfer. Also if my boss gave me a single red rose for being employee of the month, I'd find that both creepy and hella disappointing (crash prizes please.)

Meanwhile Ayfer is still testing my last nerve. When Aydan and Seyfi show up and inform her that they've found out that Serkan and Eda broke up and she responds with, "Were they even together to break up?" I wanted to slap her upside the head. Whatever official relationship status Eda and Serkan have, they have been connected and in a romantic relationship this entire time. The bit of time jump at the start of 15 before she goes back to work for Efe, is really the only section of time since they've met where they weren't in a relationship. And while Eda isn't all that forthcoming with Ayfer when it comes to Serkan, she hasn't really hidden it well. It was at Ayfer's birthday when they were on the ice together being very romantic, Ayfer was at Aydan's 70s party and could very well see Eda and Serkan attached at the hip all night and wound around one another intimately slow dancing, Ayfer knows Eda spent the night at Serkan's when she left because of Babaanne, Ayfer was at the NY party and saw them together there. Not to mention Ayfer knows Serkan saved her business and why, she knows Serkan was still wearing his ring, and she knows Eda looked completely shattered over leaving Serkan as Ayfer heartlessly reacted with glee in the last episode.

So asking "were they even together" just completely diminishes what Eda is currently going through, as if parting with him is no big deal because there was nothing there to begin with, when she knows better. When she's seen it with her own two eyes. Seriously.. fuck her. Every other character who is a friend of Eda and Serkan all know that they're a unit. I don't even feel bad that she came to ArtLife to beg for Eda's company, but Eda ended up blowing her off. Surprising Serkan with a proposal was a much better use of her time.

Engin and Piril, yeeesh, I feel for Piril, trying to put off this meeting. I'm sure she's thinking it's for Engin's own good, but her flipping into total bitch mode when they're newlyweds... not great. Not an auspicious start to the marriage. Even if she wants to keep Engin away from her father, she ought to confide in Engin and tell him why she's freaked. I'm assuming we'll get more of that in the next episode since Engin is looking rough in those promo stills.

My favorite side plot was probably Grandog's henchman's (what is his name?) crush on Melo. Melo deserves to be crushed on, and I love that she is so uninterested that she doesn't see it. Much more fun to have him chasing her, and her being oblivious. Poor Leyla, trying in vain to get his attention when he only has eyes for Melo. Enjoyed that Melo and Leyla made the agreement that Melo would help Leyla get the dude and Leyla would help get rid of Erdem. I'm looking forward to see where this goes.

Ceren and Ferit... were there too.

Now onto the A story (and let's be real the only one that matters) Eda and Serkan. Obviously 25 left us off in a very sad, heartbroken place. I'm not sure what decisions were made, when or why, but at some point TPTB decided they needed to get back to their roots and thank goodness. Episode 25 was just so dark, Eda was miserable the entire episode, as was Serkan, and that's not fun to watch for 2 hours. The way they handled them here is much better.

I know some feel the tone shift was too much. To that I would say, it was so dark in ep 25, I'm happy to do a 180, no matter the reason, to get back to a place where watching is fun, and also I think of the breakup as Eda throwing the breaks on a runaway train and once she did, and she was sure the train was stopped at least for the time being, then she could take a moment, reassess the situation and potentially decide it wasn’t as dire as she thought. In the last episode, every moment Eda delayed giving that old bitty what she wanted, something catastrophic befell Serkan, his business, or his family. The pressure mounted, the stakes were high and in the end she had to do whatever was necessary to stop Babaanne's assault on Serkan.

This episode we saw her catch her breath and then formulate a plan. I think a tone shift fits with that. Of course she feels lighter knowing that even though she hurt Serkan, he's protected for the moment. Now that that's taken care of, she's ready for next steps. So it works that the next morning we see her telling Melo and Ceren that she's not going to give up Serkan, and outlining her plan around getting close to Babaanne in order to get something on her. Good girl!

As I said above, I just adored that first scene outside ArtLife. The girls gathered around, trying to warn Eda that Serkan was coming, and then his walk by where he KNEW EXACTLY WHAT HE WAS DOING when he got right up in Eda's business without even looking at her. He knows what makes her weak in the knees. And I love that Serkan decided to play it like this. HE KNOWS. He knows she loves him, he knows there's more to the breakup, and he knows how to deal with it. Drive her crazy until she cracks and tells him everything. OR drive her crazy until they end in a passionate, possessive sex explosion. One or the other.

Quick poll, who didn't love watching Serkan take back the reigns of his company? This gal did. YAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS. Alpha Serkan is back. Kick the old bag's throne to the curb. Kick the old bag's creepy client to the curb. Now we just have to kick the old bag and her deranged, obsessed sidekick to the curb as well. But for now, I loved seeing him at the end of the table, making decisions, not brooking opposition. The team squabbling over his decision, but he just sits back, unbothered. Total power move. I appreciate Ferit questioning the decision, questioning it is the right thing to do in his position, but he may have gotten a little too pissy about it. Dude, this entire company IS Serkan. The success of the company is due to his talent, his vision, his business acumen. I get they're all worried he's making a decision because of Eda, but he's got a proven track record of, you know, being right, so there's no reason to get shirty. If Serkan doesn't want to work with someone, his instinct is probably on target.

Eda getting Babaanne to stand down warmed me from the inside out. I find it interesting that she used the argument that they were pushing him too hard and he didn't deserve it, and Babaanne bought it. For one I think Eda was worried Serkan was going to snap and do something that might start Babs' Bolat revenge cycle again. For two, she just wants the love of her life to win and be calm. However, if anyone in that room didn't catch onto what happened there, that Eda and BigB leave and then come back a minute later and BigB has done a 180, I question their competence. *cough* Ferit *cough* He's just not the sharpest tool in the shed. However, obviously, Serkan knew.

On another note, they've gotten pretty murky with the line between ArtLife and the holding. Babaanne has 45% of the Holding, not ArtLife. Ferit has 5% of the holding, not ArtLife. So which company was working with the Prince? Since it was a project to design a house, seems like that should be ArtLife? But Babs and Ferit seemed to think they had a vote which they shouldn't if it's ArtLife. Who knows... whatever.

Have you ever seen anything cuter than Eda in her coat and boots and protective helmet, leaning over, clutching her chest, exhausted after climbing all those stairs? I mean she's an adorable bean just bent over and huffing and puffing, but the fact that she just climbed up goodness knows how many flights of stairs (judging by that view, an impossible number, but we'll allow it) just to see Serkan? We giggle at her excuse that she did that because he gave her too much work. Eda, he's not going to buy that, luckily none of us want him to buy it. These two, they can't stay away from each other. Ever. She was also probably worried after the foreman told her he'd been up there for hours. Again, I think she's concerned that she's pushed him too far. So now she's in Serkan's shoes after the first breakup. Navigating that push pull of wanting to be with him, but sticking to the decision to end it for his sake.

It's nice to see that her claustrophobia was not "cured" after going up in the elevator with Serkan one-time. On her own, she's still not able to face it. I'm sure she could do it again with him, but there's more work to be done before she can face it without him.

Serkan was surprisingly vulnerable in both his conversation with Engin and with Eda on the top of that skyscraper. Even just telling Engin he was too out of sorts to join him for lunch, tells us that while he knows what he's doing, he knows there's more to the story, but he's still hurting and unsettled after the breakup. Then, "I create to make people happy, but I myself can't be happy. It's strange." Oh Serkan. I think you ripped my heart out with that... Eda's too.

Eda was so discombobulated by Serkan's attitude. Whatever she expected from him, his acceptance of the break up, wasn't it. His proposal that they be "friends" threw her and she looked so distressed when he said, "Everyone will live their own life." Alarm bells started going off for her, much as they did for him at the top of ep 19 when Eda said she was going to start living her life. She did NOT like the idea of Serkan Bolat out there living a life that didn't include her, lmao.

It's crazy to me that Eda has a friend like Fifi, who probably breaks and enters for a living, and yet she chooses Melo for a clandestine operation. Come on, Eda, you got to choose the right person for the job, lmao. I also question Eda's choice of cat burglar wardrobe. Seemed a bit... restricting and flashy. Though her skin-tight, snakeskin breaking-and-entering dress and fashionable trespassing boots did make it easier to transition to fine dining and driving your man towards rambunctious breakup/makeup/jealousy sex. Not much to say about the restaurant scenes. The prince is creepy af, and was that the most awkward dance.... ever? The looks back and forth between Edser were excellent, so much tension and longing and jealousy. But boy is it hard to watch a scene with Balca in it, ugh she makes my skin crawl and I don’t even like looking at her. Also the deliberate way the actress has chosen to speak is irritating. Anyway, we now know Balca is pretty much capable of anything, if she’s capable of essentially poisoning the man she thinks she loves. Yikes. Did Nana realize that Balca poisoned him? I have to believe she did, because him being sick seemed part of the plan. THEY'RE ALL FULL EVIL!!! .

One thing I don't believe is that Eda Yildiz would ever walk out of that restaurant with Serkan looking that bad. No way she leaves him to Balca's care, or anyone else's for that matter. Nope, regardless of who was watching she would have insisted on taking him to the doctor herself. But I get they were setting up the plot, so they sacrificed that bit.

These villains are really bad at driving a wedge between two people who love each other. AngryGran is all like, "I know a foolproof plan, let's put them in the same room and get 'em all riled up with jealousy, then make Serkan sick so Eda's worried, then I'll convince her to go check on him and let's see what happens!" LMAO. Cheers to you, dumbasses, you brought us a whole heaping plate full of S.E.X. They were really banking that Eda was going to fly off the handle and think that Serkan went from an allergic reaction to sexing up the new obsessed employee very quickly. It's great that they all underestimate Eda and Serkan's relationship and connection, that should continue to help Edser as long as these fools continue to meddle.

Eda was, wait for it, LEGENDARY, in her smackdown of Balca. QUEEEEEEEN. I'll never be over the, "You can only be with a statue of Serkan, darling." BWAHAHAHAHA. Yes! Throw her creepy, inappropriate present back in her face. And Balca's gall asking Eda to leave and then continually lecture Eda that they'd broken up. That takes either big cajones or huge helpings of delusion, because Balca has very little information when it comes to their relationship, yet she's playing her hand like she knows it all and like she doesn't care what gets back to Serkan. However, got to hand it to Balca for keeping her composure once Eda saw through her little staged production, because her story was painfully weak. Let's say for real that you're at your boss's house, the boss is sick so you're hanging around downstairs by yourself just to make sure everything is okay. What's the problem with just... you know... wearing your outfit with a coffee stain? Unless you had a massive big gulp sized coffee and poured it over your head, why even change? Don't you just... live with the stain? It's not like you're making a presentation to the board of directors in 5 minutes. For the love of god you're sitting there and no one else is around. Weak alibi.

Poor Serkan, he's just there trying to sleep off having his allergies maliciously triggered, and he completely misses out on the love of his life fighting for him downstairs. Oh how he would have loved to see that. But oh what a way to wake up, with Eda Yildiz standing over him, looking magnificent, and rousing him with a scolding tone. I've already talked about how HOT the jealousy and possessiveness was here, so I'll focus on the scene itself.

Let’s talk about the fragman first. Due to the short production timeline of this show, when they create a trailer they're doing it from the dailies, not from the show itself. That part of the show usually hasn't even been edited yet so the fragman exists before the episode. That means often there are scenes or angles that appear in the fragman, but not in the episode. It happened bigtime with the shower scene in 19, it happened randomly with the fragman for 20, they showed that really great shot of heartbroken Serkan in red, but didn't show the full thing in the episode, (when giffing it I had to use the fragman) and here, several of the best shots of Eda and Serkan ripping each other's clothes off were in the fragman and didn't make the episode. We can live with it for a lonely Serkan shot, but it's quite a bait and switch in this instance. Especially when pretty much every member of the cast (except Hande, Kerem didn't post anything either, but he did appear in that IGlive where the cast mercilessly teased him about it) promoted the scene. Not cool. I realize that they're dealing with sensors and may have had to cut things in order to avoid fines and such, but then they probably should have found a way to release the uncut scene on the internet as I've read other Turkish shows have done and like they did with episode 13. If you're gonna put something like this in the fragman to entice viewers, and have the cast promote it, you need to be willing to deliver. Badly done on the part of both Fox and MF Yapim.

That being said, one of the great things about the tighter restrictions this show has to adhere to, is they really show the intimacy instead. On an American show, these characters would have started eating each other's faces off and then tumbled into bed. There is something very hot, though, about them just invading each other's space, breathing each other's scent, nose to nose, nose to neck, nose to cheek... without breaching. Plus we got to see him carry her to the bed... even if they darkened it to the point you can barely see. I saw enough. HOT. The scene was short, but more tantalizing than lots of love scenes I've seen.

I was sad she left while he still slept in the morning. For him not to feel her get out of bed, she must have worn him out! It really would have been nice to see them wake up together, but I'm sure that will come. Plus it gave us the tension filled scene in the office. The knocked over lamp in the background was a delicious detail. Things got rambunctious! I'm glad Eda got to return the sentiment that only she can touch him, if only Serkan had heard it! Another thing that would have made him so happy if only he knew about it.

Melo is all of us upon learning about their night of passion. She's a whole cheerleader for them, and I love it.

The post-sex scenes at the office were amazing. For several seconds I thought that he really did think it was a dream. Panic started to set in until she admitted she'd had it too. Phew. No hiding for Eda. I'm glad he flirted, instead of getting offended, and that she was at least honest about there being something she needed to do before they could really be together. Eda also handled the office conversation with Balca well. Love that she didn't show any reaction to her claim about Paris, just wished her a good trip. I felt that deep breath she took before going into his office. Yes, girl, calm down before you march in and accuse him of something, good thing he immediately invited her. I just about melted at, "I don't want to argue... you're precious to me." Serkan is gradually learning how to head off her fits of pique.

The proposal... I... just... okay... my heart... I need a minute... still not over it.

It was perfect. She made a surprise for him!!!! After he asked her for a surprise a few episodes ago she did it and surpassed even his wildest dreams. It was quite a surprise for us too! Thank you for not spoiling it, show! Serkan has told Eda he loves her about 3 dozen different ways, he's made it clear how he feels and what he wants ("Eda Bolat, sounds nice."). There is no doubt that he was ready to propose the moment he felt she'd be receptive, so it was wonderful that she threw caution to the wind and did it. Both Serkan and the audience needed to see exactly how much she loves him, and this was a wonderful way to do that. It's pretty much the biggest thing she could have done. Also for those of us in other parts of the world (I'm in the US) it might not be too out of the ordinary for a woman to propose, but from what I understand it's rare and possibly non-existent on Turkish shows. That's pretty cool.

Did you see his face!?!? He was so happy at first when he registered that she was actually standing in front of him and then just totally gobsmacked when he saw the rings and realized what was happening. As for Eda, she was just glowing. GLOWING. And don't even get me started on the plane. That trip on the day after they met is such an important part of their love story and the call back here is wonderful. The first time around he thought she was there for him, this time he can't believe that she's there for him.

Can't wait to see the way the full conversation/proposal plays out, do ya'll think he'll say yes? (hee)

#Sen Çal Kapımı #sen cal kapimi #edser #sck 1x26 #sck episode thoughts #sckask #edser discussion #sck discussion #edser meta #asklizac #Anonymous

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dwaynepride · 4 years

Text

the unfortunate case of nonchalance

PART I - WHERE TO START

summary: jethro and his gang arrive to a new town, and they’re surrounded by rich folk. but then, he meets somebody unexpected.

words: 1,855

warnings: female reader

tags: @fairytale07 @jrenn10 @f4nboi @purplestarsr5 @ladyzombiielove @littlemiss3ma @minikate--24-05 @consultingdoctorwholock @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy @ms-allenbrown @ikbenplant @dylpickles1267 @diaryofafan17 @specialagentlokitty @pageofultron @stanathanxoox

author’s note: part 1 of a new series. this is actually a part of @thranduilsperkybutt‘s writing challenge. my prompt was cowboy au + secret relationship trope.

PART II

February 16th, 1889

Well, this is the first opportunity where I’m able to sit and write.

Moving East out of the plains has been damn hard - nobody likes being this close to civilization.

Hell, I hate it. Seen more people on the trail the past two days than we used to see in a whole week, back West. It’s necessary; we all know that. Still, I hear Anthony kickin’ up a fuss whenever we see another caravan.

It ain’t so bad, now that we got a place to settle down. For now, anyway. It’s well-hidden, at least. It’ll do the job until our problems in the West die down, and we can move back.

If we’re lucky, Anthony might take a bullet while we’re out here. Save us all the trouble of keepin’ him reigned in, this time.

Dr. Mallard told me there’s a town nearby. From what I gather, it’s mostly aristocrats and artisans and rich folk who live there. Not the kinda folk we run into often, but the law won’t think to look for us here. Not for a while, at least.

So I’m gonna head into the town tomorrow. Have a look around, see what we’re up against. Anthony wants to come along. Says he wants to start sniffing around, despite my warnings that we’ve got to act like upstanding citizens of the law. It’s too risky to start making trouble.

He says he understands, but I’ll keep my eye on him, just the same.

Tim and Abigail will go along with him. They’re much less rambunctious, so I don’t fear they’ll get into much mischief.

All in all, despite the money that no doubt comes through this town, I predict it will be a very dull place to lie low.

But maybe that’s what we need, right now. There’s been too much excitement, lately.

February 17th, 1889

Just as I thought - this town is full of men and women too concerned with stories and the arts to pay attention to much else. I counted five clothing shops on the way in. And only a single gun store.

I’m not even sure the saloon sells proper bourbon.

Though, Anthony seems to be fitting in, well enough. He can keep a pleasant conversation with any rich man he meets - a skill I scarcely care enough to learn. But I suppose it was a good choice to bring him along-

The journal is knocked from Jethro’s hands as someone slams against his shoulder from behind. It falls to the dirt, as does the bags of the person who’d knocked into Jethro. And even though his journal was knocked clean out of his hands, Jethro himself wasn’t much bothered. Because the collision barely moved him and it seems like whoever just bumped into him is suffering more of the consequences.

“I’m very sorry!” A voice says hurriedly. A womanly voice that wasn’t so prim and proper as the other women of this high-end town.

Jethro bends over to collect her bags - brand new, apart from the new dirt stains received from the collision. And the woman picks up his leather-bound journal; thankfully, it had landed shut.

They both straighten up, and Jethro instantly meets your eyes for the first time. Very pretty, he notices, if a little guilty for all the trouble you’ve caused. Dainty little strands of hair fall into your face, and the dress you wear is much too expensive for Jethro to ever be able to buy. And yet, you wears it so simply. He can’t tell if you’re just so rich that this dress is meaningless, or if you purely don’t care.

You speak, and Jethro’s eyes blink once. “Pardon me?”

A small laugh comes from you; light and nervous. “I said I was sorry. For bumping into you, like I did. I suppose I wasn’t watching where I was going. I can be a real clutz, you see.”

You still hold his journal with two hands. Fingers drum against the leather. He huffs and shakes his head. “No, ma’am. The fault is mine for not anticipating your arrival,” Jethro says simply.

And he hadn’t meant it as a joke. It was a simple fact, told in his deadpan way. Still, the nervous look on your face shifts into a wide smile. You’re laughing; light and happy and in a way Jethro wasn’t quite expecting. “Perhaps you’re right,” you say. And when Jethro hands your bags over, you gives him the journal back.

“Are you a writer?”

He’s dusting off the leather, barely listening to your question. “A writer?” He echoes.

“You know, a storyteller.” When Jethro glances back up, you motion to the journal. “I do enjoy a good story. And you seemed rather lost in whatever you were writing.”

Your eyes....your eyes held a sort of enraptured curiosity that Jethro himself hasn’t had in a long time. The type of curiosity that has you questioning a stranger with a journal because they may be a fascinating person. But he was just a man; just Jethro. And your words prompts a light smirk to his face. “Do I strike you as the type to entertain others, ma’am?”

You pauses. Shrug your shoulders as your emboldened smile softens into a smirk. You must smile a lot, he thinks. “Perhaps. I’ve only known you a minute, and you’re already more interesting than many of the men in this town. That’s quite an achievement, Mr....”

Jethro hesitates. He knew coming into this town that he didn’t want to give out his name very willingly. Maybe the law will recognize it and that would cause more trouble than he wants to deal with.

And yet, what harm could this woman do? A woman so soft and sheltered, she mistakes this rough cowboy for a city-dwelling storyteller.

“Gibbs,” he finally answers.

He sticks out his hand, and you smile while taking it. Jethro hears, loud and clear, when you tells him your name. And he hasn’t the mind to notice how soft the skin of your palm is. Your last name - it’s so familiar.

Familiar, as he’s seen it printed over almost every store and shop in this town.

So he gives a slow nod, releasing your hand. “I did not realize I was talking with a celebrity,” Jethro teases. And he expects some pushback from that little jab - women always seem to dislike his brand of sarcasm. They call him rude, and they may be right.

Instead, you grips your bags tighter. Jethro catches a bit of pink in your cheeks, and it makes his stomach tight with no good reason. “My father owns many of the stores in this town. It’s not a fact I share with others, Mr. Gibbs. I feel as though it causes people to treat me different - as though my opinion of them may sway them to my father’s favor.”

Seems like a hard life, Jethro jokingly thinks to himself.

Seems easier to have fake friends than government agents following you across three states.

Jethro stuffs his journal into his coat pocket before looking back to you, bobbing his head with a smirk. “Trust me, ma’am; I will treat you no different than I would any other woman,” he vows. And he’s mostly serious.

You smile again. And even giggle, this time. It’s a nice sound and even after Jethro tells himself to be polite to the daughter of the town’s most powerful man, he finds he doesn’t have to try very hard. You’re nothing like the other people Jethro has encountered in this god-forsaken town.

Maybe because when you look at him, Jethro doesn’t feel like the dirty old cowboy he knows he looks like to everyone else.

His thoughts are cut short by your cross little sigh. “I’m afraid I must go now. I’m expected back home soon,” you tell him regretfully.

Your reluctance was painfully visible, and Jethro is determined not to show his own. Besides, he wasn’t here to make a friend or charm a lady; no matter how pretty she may be. “Then I’ll save you the burden of a long-winded goodbye. I hope you have a good day,” Jethro tells her.

After giving you a single nod, he turns away. Takes several steps toward the saloon - that’s where Jethro reckons Anthony might be, anyway. Following some poor rich bastard in there to get him drunk and pick his pockets. And he thinks he’s about to make a clean getaway.

But your voice calls out. Calls his name in a way that makes Jethro’s feet freeze in their tracks. He almost doesn’t turn, but his head is arching over his shoulder anyway. Watching as you smile and waves him goodbye. “I hope to see you around! Perhaps one day, you’ll let me read the story you’re writing.”

That makes Jethro scoff, but he says nothing as you continue on your way. That expensive dress of yours even has some mud stains from where your shoes kick it up, but your don’t really seem to care.

And as you disappear around the corner, he shakes his head. Such an unforeseen encounter in a town where Jethro only expected to find uppity, rich men and women. And for the daughter of the town’s patriarch, no less, to completely shatter his expectations - well, Jethro found himself wondering if he really would see you again.

His thoughts are broken when Jethro hears a familiar voice calling out. Shaking out of his reverie, his head swivels around until finding the voice’s owner. Anthony’s hand waves in the air, and he starts jogging over.

Jethro can’t help but glance back to where you disappeared from.

But the Italian stops beside Jethro, wearing a big grin that usually gave him a bad feeling. “Afternoon, boss,” Anthony greets.

Jethro only grunts, and as he starts walking, his friend falls into step beside him. “Have fun screwing around?”

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t screwing around. Just the opposite, in fact.” Anthony suddenly steps closer, shoulder to shoulder with Jethro. Aware of the prying eyes and nosy aristocrats eager for gossip. “I think I figured out a way to rustle up some money,” Anthony says lowly.

Jethro scoffs, face forming a frown that Anthony can hardly see under the brim of his hat. Though, he’s already well acquainted with his leader’s sourest faces. “This idea of yours legal, Anthony?”

“Strictly speaking? Not really.”

Great.

“That’s never stopped us before, though.”

No, Jethro answers reluctantly. It hasn’t. And that’s what pushed them away from the West and everything they’ve worked for. Because of those less-than-legal schemes.

And hearing Anthony suggest a whole new one, in a town where nobody knows their checkered past...well, Jethro has a pretty wide pit in his stomach. Deep, aching; familiar in a way that has him thinking about the past. Has him thinking about what led to Shannon’s death, all those years ago.

Glancing to Anthony, and seeing how excited he looks about his dangerous plan, Jethro just starts thinking about the girl who thought him a storyteller.

#ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs imagine #ncis reader insert #thranduilsperkybutt #megs11kchallenge

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she-who-fights-and-writes · 4 years

Text

She-who-fights-and-writes Coronacation Book Rec List

I know that a lot of people are stuck at home right now in dire need of entertainment, so I decided I’d put out a book recommendations list of all the books I’m currently reading and all of my must-reads!

(Just a note that a lot of these are Fantasy because I’m a fantasy nerd haha)

Books/Series I am currently reading

1. The Folk of the Air Trilogy by Holly Black (Currently on #2, The Wicked King)

Genre: High Fantasy

Setting: The land of Faerie which is kind of historical, but in the human world it is modern day

Main cast :

Jude Duarte (white, human, cutthroat, if I saw her in a Denny’s Parking Lot at 3am I would RUN)

Cardan Greenbriar (white, faerie, the true embodiment of Bastard)

Vivienne (Jude’s half-sister, lesbian with canon gf, half-human half-faerie, I would totally try to be her friend)

Taryn Duarte (Jude’s twin sister, queen doormat, still, I would take a bullet for her she’s jUST TRYING TO FIT IN)

Rating: 5/5 Stars

These books have been on my “To Read” list for so long now and for some reason I just never got around to reading them! Hands-down, these are some of the best high fantasy books that I’ve read in a long, long while.

I finished the first book, The Cruel Prince, in just two days and rated it 5/5 stars! Even though these books are high fantasy and focus on the traditions and ways of life of faeries, somehow all of the characters seem like I could meet them in real life!

The main character actually has genuine flaws and not just “””“flaws”””” and is a Bad Bitch down with murder, and the plot had me on the edge of my seat from page one!

The summary makes it sound like it’s going to be about their romance, but it’s really mostly about a power struggle and Jude being a badass.

Goodreads summary for The Cruel Prince:

Jude was seven when her parents were murdered and she and her two sisters were stolen away to live in the treacherous High Court of Faerie. Ten years later, Jude wants nothing more than to belong there, despite her mortality. But many of the fey despise humans. Especially Prince Cardan, the youngest and wickedest son of the High King. To win a place at the Court, she must defy him–and face the consequences. As Jude becomes more deeply embroiled in palace intrigues and deceptions, she discovers her own capacity for trickery and bloodshed. But as betrayal threatens to drown the Courts of Faerie in violence, Jude will need to risk her life in a dangerous alliance to save her sisters, and Faerie itself.

2. The Raven Cycle Series by Maggie Stiefvater (Currently on #1, The Raven Boys)

Genre: Present-Day/Realistic Fantasy (?)

Setting: The fictional town of Henrietta, Virginia

I haven’t gotten around to much of the book, so there’s not much I can tell you about the characters and I can’t properly give it a rating yet.

These books were also on my “To Read” list for a while; I was a huge fan of her book The Scorpio Races and have also been looking for something to quench my thirst for “private school/ghosts/magic” that I’ve been dealing with ever since I read The Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo.

I’ve only JUST started The Raven Cycle yesterday, but so far I am hooked! I’m super worried because I’m TERRIBLE at juggling two series at a time but both of these are just so interesting!

Goodreads Summary for The Raven Boys:

“There are only two reasons a non-seer would see a spirit on St. Mark’s Eve,” Neeve said. “Either you’re his true love . . . or you killed him.” It is freezing in the churchyard, even before the dead arrive. Every year, Blue Sargent stands next to her clairvoyant mother as the soon-to-be dead walk past. Blue herself never sees them—not until this year, when a boy emerges from the dark and speaks directly to her. His name is Gansey, and Blue soon discovers that he is a rich student at Aglionby, the local private school. Blue has a policy of staying away from Aglionby boys. Known as Raven Boys, they can only mean trouble. But Blue is drawn to Gansey, in a way she can’t entirely explain. He has it all—family money, good looks, devoted friends—but he’s looking for much more than that. He is on a quest that has encompassed three other Raven Boys: Adam, the scholarship student who resents all the privilege around him; Ronan, the fierce soul who ranges from anger to despair; and Noah, the taciturn watcher of the four, who notices many things but says very little. For as long as she can remember, Blue has been warned that she will cause her true love to die. She never thought this would be a problem. But now, as her life becomes caught up in the strange and sinister world of the Raven Boys, she’s not so sure anymore.

MY MUST-READ BOOK LIST

1. The Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue by Mackenzi Lee

Genre: Historical Fiction

Setting: 1700s Europe (England, Paris, Barcelona, Marseilles, Venice)

Main cast (I’ll try my best not to spoil anything because you find out a LOT of different stuff about these characters throughout the book):

Henry “Monty” Montague (white, bi/pansexual, attitude problem)

Percy Newton (mixed race, gay, very sweet boy, definitely got “most likely to bring home to mom” in the yearbook)

Felicity Montague (white, Monty’s little sister, headcanoned as asexual, I love her to death)

Rating: 5/5 Stars

Daring adventure, gay representation, historical setting, hilarious characters!

This book literally has it all! I would consider it one of my favorite books of all time, yet for some reason I’ve never gotten around to reading any of the sequel books! The ending is very satisfying and ties everything together, which I feel is part of the reason why I haven’t gotten around to them yet.

Therefore, it can serve as a one-shot read or a full series if you want to dive into something good!

The humor made me laugh out loud at points and all of the characters are very real and very, very relatable, not to mention the vivid settings of 1700s Europe!

Goodreads summary:

Henry “Monty” Montague was born and bred to be a gentleman, but he was never one to be tamed. The finest boarding schools in England and the constant disapproval of his father haven’t been able to curb any of his roguish passions—not for gambling halls, late nights spent with a bottle of spirits, or waking up in the arms of women or men. But as Monty embarks on his Grand Tour of Europe, his quest for a life filled with pleasure and vice is in danger of coming to an end. Not only does his father expect him to take over the family’s estate upon his return, but Monty is also nursing an impossible crush on his best friend and traveling companion, Percy. Still it isn’t in Monty’s nature to give up. Even with his younger sister, Felicity, in tow, he vows to make this yearlong escapade one last hedonistic hurrah and flirt with Percy from Paris to Rome. But when one of Monty’s reckless decisions turns their trip abroad into a harrowing manhunt that spans across Europe, it calls into question everything he knows, including his relationship with the boy he adores.

2. The Ninth House By Leigh Bardugo

Genre: Horror, Fantasy

Setting: Yale University and the town of New Haven, Present Day

Main cast:

Galaxy “Alex” Stern (Hispanic, sees dead people, very scary)

Daniel Arlington “Darlington” (white, rich, an angel who can sometimes be a dick)

Pamela Dawes (tbh I honestly don’t remember what she looks like, only that she’s a tired grad student with big nerd energy)

Detective Alan Turner (Black, takes shit from nobody, husband material)

Rating: 4/5 Stars

(NOTE: THIS IS VERY DARK ADULT FICTION AND CONTAINS MATERIAL THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING FOR SOME PEOPLE, WOULD NOT RECOMMEND FOR PEOPLE UNDER 16)

This book is a great read for someone who’s looking for a disturbing, gritty book with layers upon layers of secrets that you have to peel away as the mystery unfolds. I love the secret societies and the intricate magic systems that the book introduces, and it actually made me hungry for more books like it!

Alex is a three-dimensional, very real character who also serves as an unreliable narrator who witholds or warps the information that she’s telling you, making the narrative all the more riveting.

The only issues that I have with it are the fact that Leigh Bardugo kind of just dumps you in the middle of it without explaining stuff first, to the point where it kind of feels like you’re reading the second installment of a series rather than the first one, so things can get a bit confusing at first.

The book also can drag and draw things out for a bit too long, but once the plot fully kicks into gear, you will not be able to put it down!

Goodreads summary:

Galaxy “Alex” Stern is the most unlikely member of Yale’s freshman class. Raised in the Los Angeles hinterlands by a hippie mom, Alex dropped out of school early and into a world of shady drug dealer boyfriends, dead-end jobs, and much, much worse. By age twenty, in fact, she is the sole survivor of a horrific, unsolved multiple homicide. Some might say she’s thrown her life away. But at her hospital bed, Alex is offered a second chance: to attend one of the world’s most elite universities on a full ride. What’s the catch, and why her? Still searching for answers to this herself, Alex arrives in New Haven tasked by her mysterious benefactors with monitoring the activities of Yale’s secret societies. These eight windowless “tombs” are well-known to be haunts of the future rich and powerful, from high-ranking politicos to Wall Street and Hollywood’s biggest players. But their occult activities are revealed to be more sinister and more extraordinary than any paranoid imagination might conceive.

3. The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

Genre: Sci-Fi/Fantasy

Setting: Earth, Space, The Moon

Main cast :

Linh Cinder (Chinese, based on Cinderella, cyborg, certified badass)

Scarlet Benoit (French, based on Little Red Riding Hood, farmer who is not afraid to shoot you)

Cress Darnel (White, based on Rapunzel, nerd, I will protect her with my life if I have to)

Kaito “Kai” (Chinese, based on Prince Charming, kind of has to run a whole country, a very kind soul, deserves a nap)

Carswell Thorne (White, based off of Rapunzel’s Prince, bastard)

Winter Hayle (Black, based off of Snow White, royalty, has super special powers)

Wolf (Race unspecified, based off of the Big Bad Wolf, charming killing machine, furry????)

Rating: 5/5 Stars

Do you like fairy tales?

Have you ever wanted to know what fairy tales would be like if they took place in the FUTURE instead of the PAST?

Do you like an amazing, hilarious cast paired with a super interesting plot?

These are the books for you!

I haven’t read them in so long, but I remember how much joy I felt while devouring these pages. Definitely something you will not able to put down!

Goodreads Summary for Book #1: Cinder:

Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth's fate hinges on one girl. . . . Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She's a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister's illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai's, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world's future.

4. The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

Genre: Fantasy

Setting: Ancient Greece

Main cast:

Patroclus (Greek, Gay, quiet pining)

Achilles (Greek, gay, very strong, student athlete energy)

Brisies (Anatolian, clever, literally the only one in this story who has a brain cell)

Rating: 100000/5 stars

This is basically the Iliad but if historians hadn’t completely erased Patroclus and Achilles’ relationship. “Haha yeah these guys were totally bros” they say, even though I have read the Iliad and their relationship isn’t even subtle.

This book made me cry at least ten times. It’s just so beautifully written and has such a distinct vibe to it that whenever I crack it open for another time, it takes me straight back to the vacation that I read it on. (Needless to say, sobbing your eyes out can be less than helpful when you’re on the beach)

If you can only read one book on this list, it should be this one. I could talk all day about it and write novels on just how much of an incredible writer Madeline Miller is, but I feel like you’d get my drift a bit better if you actually read the book.

Goodreads Summary:

Greece in the age of heroes. Patroclus, an awkward young prince, has been exiled to the court of King Peleus and his perfect son Achilles. By all rights their paths should never cross, but Achilles takes the shamed prince as his friend, and as they grow into young men skilled in the arts of war and medicine their bond blossoms into something deeper - despite the displeasure of Achilles' mother Thetis, a cruel sea goddess. But then word comes that Helen of Sparta has been kidnapped. Torn between love and fear for his friend, Patroclus journeys with Achilles to Troy, little knowing that the years that follow will test everything they hold dear. Profoundly moving and breathtakingly original, this rendering of the epic Trojan War is a dazzling feat of the imagination, a devastating love story, and an almighty battle between gods and kings, peace and glory, immortal fame and the human heart.

Hope this list helps you through your coronacation, and please don’t be afraid to reblog or message me to tell me if you’ve read/will read any of these!

#books #book recs #book rec #book reccomendation #book reccomendations #coronacation #corona #coronavirus #covid-19 #book rec list

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watusichris · 3 years

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Betty Davis: They Say She’s Different

It appears that everything anyone has written for the old Music Aficionado site has now disappeared from the web. A random Facebook post has prompted me to re-purpose this story, written in 2016, about my favorite funketress. **********

To this day, the name Betty Davis – Betty with a “y,” that is – remains best known to connoisseurs of Miles Davis minutiae and ‘70s funk obsessives. While it’s true that Betty played an important off-stage role in the career of the jazz trumpeter, to whom she was married for just a year, and she undoubtedly made some of the best hardcore funk records of her era, she deserves to be recognized beyond the relatively narrow provinces of the jazzbo and the crate-digger.

Uncompromising, intelligent, brazen, aggressive, and not incidentally gorgeous, sexually provocative, and a fashion plate always ahead of the curve, Betty was a prophetic figure. Spawned by the explosion of music, fashion, and alternative culture of the late ‘60s, and by concurrent leaps in black consciousness and feminism, she was a take-no-prisoners singer and writer who presented herself as something new, rich, and strange with her self-titled debut album in 1973.

There were some badass contemporaries working the soul and funk trenches– gutter-tongued diva Millie Jackson and one-time James Brown paramour Yvonne Fair leap to mind immediately – but they seemed to be adapting tropes previously worked by male singers in the genres. Betty still sounds like something new: a tough, smart, demanding woman who reveled in pleasure and insisted on satisfaction, unafraid to claim what she wanted.

Despite the fact that she was associated with some high-profile male musician friends and lovers – beyond Davis, the roll call included Hugh Masekela, Jimi Hendrix, Sly Stone, Mike Carabello, Eric Clapton, and Robert Palmer – she was no groupie or bed-hopping climber. Possessed of her own self-defining vision, she was producing her own records and leading a tight, flexible little band by the end of her brief run.

In 1976, after completing four splendid albums (only three of which were released at the time), she disappeared, not only from the music business but from the public eye entirely. What happened? It’s an old story that many women in the industry will recognize: Her record company didn’t know what to do with her, and wanted her to tone down her act. Betty Davis wasn’t having any of that, thank you, and she hit the damn road.

She was born Betty Mabry in Durham, NC, in 1945. She grew up country, and was exposed to down-home, get-down music early. On the title track of her second album, They Say I’m Different, she runs down the artists who served as inspirations: Big Mama Thornton, John Lee Hooker, Lightnin’ Hopkins, Howlin’ Wolf, Albert King, Chuck Berry. The blues, in one form or another, is the backbone of her style.

Her family relocated to Pittsburgh when she was young, but at 16 she left home for the Fashion Institute of Technology in New York. There she was hurtled into the roiling cultural vortex of the Village. She took up modeling, working for the toney Wilhelmina agency, and began running with a posse of similarly disposed, equally beautiful women who called themselves the “Electric Ladies.” Sound familiar? One of her closest cohorts was Devon Wilson, for many years a notorious consort of Jimi Hendrix known for her freewheeling, outré sex- and drug-saturated lifestyle.

Mabry began to try her hand at singing, and cut a few self-penned singles. They were in an old-school mold in terms of structure, but her very first 45 hints at things to come. “Get Ready For Betty,” a 1964 track released by Don Costa (discoverer of Paul Anka and Trini Lopez and a key arranger for Frank Sinatra), is stodgy early-‘60s NYC R&B to its core, but its message is pointed: “Get out my way, girl, ‘cause I’m comin’ to take your man.”

She also made a stolid romantic duet ballad with singer Roy Arlington and, produced by cult soul man Lou Courtney, a homage to the Cellar, the New York club where she DJed. But she didn’t start reaching the upper echelon of the music biz until one of her songs, a hymn to Harlem called “Uptown,” was cut by the Chambers Brothers for their smash 1968 album The Time Has Come, which also included the psychedelic soul workout “Time Has Come Today.”

The Chambers association probably secured a singles deal for her at Columbia Records, and her first session for the major label was produced by her former live-in boyfriend, South African trumpeter Masekela, in October 1968. By that time, she had split with him: A month earlier, she had married a far more famous horn player, Miles Davis, whom she had met in 1967. Davis and his regular producer Teo Macero would head her second session for Columbia in May 1969.

Those two dates were released for the first time as The Columbia Years 1968-1969 earlier this month by Light in the Attic, the independent label that has restored Betty’s entire catalog to print over the last decade. While devoted fans can be grateful that the work is finally seeing the light of day, it does not make for easy listening, for it was clearly made by people groping in the dark.

Betty’s artistic persona was at that point completely unformed, and so her male Svengalis did their best to mold the clay in their hands, with feeble results. Masekela evidently completed just three tracks, two of which, “It’s My Life” and “Live, Love, Learn,” were issued as a flop single. The homiletic song titles give the game away; the music, straight-up commercial soul backed by a large group (which included Wilton Felder and Wayne Henderson of the Jazz Crusaders and Masekela), has nothing original to say.

The date with Miles is a bigger waste, if a more spectacular one. The personnel couldn’t have been more glittering: Hendrix sidemen Billy Cox and Mitch Mitchell; ex-Detroit Wheels guitarist Jim McCarty; bassist Harvey Brooks, studio familiar of Bob Dylan and former member of the Electric Flag; and Davis’ then-current or future band mates Herbie Hancock, Wayne Shorter, John McLaughlin, and Larry Young.

But nothing jells. The material is either weak (Betty’s directionless original “Hangin’ Out” is the best of a bad lot) or incongruous (lumbering covers of Cream’s “Politician” and Creedence’s “Born On the Bayou”). Worse, the jazzers are unable to lay down anything resembling a solid soul-rock foundation, and even reliable timekeeper Mitchell blows the groove on more than one occasion. Miles gets impatient with his spouse at one point, rasping over the talk-back, “Sing it just like that, with the gum in your mouth and all, bitch.”

Apparently intended as demos, the failed tracks were consigned to the tape library. By late ’69, Miles and Betty’s marriage was history. She left her mark on his music: She appeared on the cover of his cover of his 1968 album Filles de Kilimanjaro and inspired its extended track “Mademoiselle Mabry” (based on the chords that opens Hendrix’s “The Wind Cries Mary”) and “Back Seat Betty” from his 1981 comeback album The Man With the Horn.

Moreover, she moved him toward the flash style that would dominate his music through the mid-‘70s, by exposing him to the slamming music of Hendrix and Sly and exchanging his continental suits for psychedelic pimp togs. Would we know Bitches Brew, On the Corner, and Agharta without Betty Davis? Maybe, maybe not.

For her part, Betty remained in the wings for a while. She collaborated on demos for the Commodores; in London, she modeled, worked on songs for Marc Bolan of T. Rex, and declined a production offer from her then-paramour Clapton. Drifting back to New York, she met Santana percussionist Carabello. They became involved romantically, and in 1972 she relocated to the San Francisco Bay area, where Carabello’s local connections led to the formation of a stellar band to back her on a debut album.

One reads the credits for Betty Davis in awe. The rhythm section was the Family Stone’s dissident, puissant rhythm section, bassist Larry Graham and drummer Greg Errico (who also produced). Original Santana guitarist Neal Schon, future Mandrill axe man Doug Rodrigues, founding Graham Central Station organist Hershall Kennedy, and keyboardist and ace Jerry Garcia collaborator Merl Saunders filled out the instrumentation. The Pointer Sisters, Sylvester, and Kathi McDonald were among a large platoon of backup vocalists.

Issued in 1973 by Just Sunshine Records, an independent label owned by Woodstock Festival promoter Michael Lang (who also released a set by another unique woman, folk singer-guitarist Karen Dalton), Betty Davis was one hell of a coming-out party. Since her abortive Columbia dates, she had developed a unique vocal attack that could leap from a velvety croon to a Tina Turner-like shriek in a nanosecond. The stomping funk of the studio band backed her up to the hilt.

Like Turner, she was one Bold Soul Sister. The lust-filled opening invitation “If I’m in Luck I Might Get Picked Up” announces that a new game was afoot. The statement of romantic/sexual independence “Anti Love Song,” the lovers’ chess match “Your Man My Man,” and the self-explanatory “Game is My Middle Name” offer up a startling, hard-edged new model of a hard-funking female vocalist.

The album’s most affecting track may be “Steppin in Her I. Miller Shoes,” Davis’ level-headed elegy for her sybaritic friend Devon Wilson, who sailed out a window at the Chelsea Hotel in 1971. “She coulda been anything that she wanted…Instead she chose to be nothing,” Davis sings, implying that route wouldn’t be one she would take herself.

“If I’m in Luck” grazed the lower reaches of the R&B singles chart and the album failed to reach the LP rolls at all, but Davis was undaunted. For 1974’s They Say I’m Different, she took the producer’s reins, which she would hold for the rest of her career. While the backup lineup is less glitzy (though Saunders, Pete Escovedo, and Buddy Miles, on guitar no less, appear), the support is still sizzling; crackling drums and burbling clavinet put over a set of songs that may have been even stronger than those heard on her debut.

No one who hears “He Was a Big Freak” is likely to ever forget it; it’s a startling dissection of a masochistic relationship -- inspired by Jimi Hendrix, and not, as many have assumed, by Miles Davis (“Everyone knows that Miles is a sadist,” Betty remarked later). Almost as notable are “Don’t Call Her No Tramp,” a prescient condemnation of what we now call slut-shaming, and the autobiographical title track, with slicing slide guitar work by Cordell Dudley.

Different and its attendant singles tanked, but Betty managed to maintain her profile with live gigs noteworthy for their uninhibited bawdiness, on-stage abandon, and the star’s Egyptian-princess-from-outer-space wardrobe sense. By early 1974 she had assembled a hot, lean road band that included her cousins Nickey Neal and Larry Johnson on drums and bass, respectively, plus keyboardist Fred Mills and guitarist Carlos Morales. This lineup would back her on her last two albums.

The end of Just Sunshine’s distribution deal liberated Davis, who, at the suggestion of then-boyfriend Robert Palmer, inked with Palmer’s label Island Records. The company released Nasty Gal in 1975, and it may be Davis’ best-executed work. The pared-down backing lets the songs shine, and there are good ones here: The shameless title song, the vituperative blast at the critics “Dedicated to the Press,” and the out-front ultimatum for sexual satisfaction “Feelins” get right up in the listener’s face. The most surprising track is the ballad “You and I,” an unexpected songwriting reunion with Miles, orchestrated by the trumpeter’s famed arranger Gil Evans.

It’s a tremendous album, and Betty supported it with live shows that ate the funk competition alive. A bootleg of an especially out-there set recorded at a festival on the French Riviera in 1976 literally climaxes with Nasty Gal’s “The Lone Ranger,” an in-the-saddle heavy breather that Davis wraps up by feigning a loud orgasm.

One should remember that at this particular juncture, Madonna was studying dance at the University of Michigan.

But Nasty Gal faded with hardly a trace, and Davis’ relationship with Island swiftly became fractious. It’s easy to see why the label declined to issue her final album, originally called Crashin’ From Passion and ultimately released, after years as a bootleg, by Light in the Attic in 2009 as Is It Love or Desire. The collection, which leans heavily on songs about sex, doping, and heavy drinking, includes “Stars Starve, You Know,” an outright condemnation of the games record companies play:

They said if I wanted to make some money

I’d have to change my style

Put a paper bag over my face

Sing soft and wear tight fitting gowns

They don’t like the way I’m lookin’

So it’s hard for my agent to get me bookin’s

Unless I cover up my legs and drop my pen

And commit one of those commercial sins…

Oh hey hey Island

And that was all she wrote. Until writers began to seek her out in the new millennium as her records became available again, Betty Davis was an invisible woman, one who had blazed a trail that other talents, such as Prince and Madonna, would blaze more profitably after her. She was definitively ahead of her time.

Asked by one writer what she had done since leaving music, Davis, who turns 71 on July 26, responded with the most tragic thing one can imagine any artist saying: “Nothing really.”

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maiassensibleblog · 4 years

Text

Dear theatre people, this is what I mean when I say theatre is elitist...

(All views expressed are my opinion).

I’ve been considering whether now is the right time to post this but when theatre comes back (which it will, it must), it cannot look how it looked before. I love theatre with all my heart, it is the part of my life that heals the most. But the industry drives me crazy.

I want to address the questions: Why don’t people go to the theatre? And why don’t people care about theatre? My perspective is from a West End theatre goer who is working class, not white and not straight. I am not involved in making theatre and do not desire to be involved.

To answer this huge question, I’d like to start with two definitions:

Elitist: Relating to or supporting the view that a society or system should be led by an elite.

Inaccessible: Unable to be reached.

I often see people asking “why don’t people go to the theatre?” with only responses related to accessibility. When we talk about accessibility, we need to consider barriers such as ticket prices, geographical location and ableism. An awful lot of people are not stopped by accessibility, but they do not go to the theatre. Why? Theatre is elitist.

Elitism is the feeling that you do not belong in a space because the people who are there are different from you and often appear to think they are better than you. In my opinion, this is the reason that the general public do not care about theatre. Elitism is built into the theatre world and this has only been highlighted recently through the BLM movement (I don’t need to go into this here, you’ve all seen it).

From a personal perspective, I’m privileged to have been going to the theatre since I was tiny. We didn’t have a lot of money but my mum was really good at finding deals on tickets and I grew to love theatre more and more as I grew up. I go around once a week and see a lot of off West-end stuff. I, a seasoned theatregoer, feel elitism every time I go to the theatre. I will elaborate on these in the sub-topics below but I wanted to point out that I am somebody who is relatively confident around the elitist feeling, imagine if you aren’t. You just wouldn’t bother and that is what we’re seeing.

Tickets

The first thing I would like to discuss may seem to sit between accessibility and elitism but getting affordable tickets sits in with elitism in my opinion. I am often asked how I can afford to go to the theatre so often and my answer is always I know where to look. Why do theatres feel that it is acceptable to hide their cheap seats? The only thing that is achieved here is keeping theatre for those who know where to look.

If you have not be brought up around theatre folk, you don’t know that day seats exist. Even when theatres advertise and say something like “£15 day seats available”, people who do not know anything about theatre will not have a clue what that means. They won’t know the difference between a digital lottery and a regular in-person day seat, they won’t know how to press buy now just at the right time on TodayTix to get a rush ticket. Having cheaper options does improve accessibility but the way it has been done doesn’t serve to reduce elitism.

Put yourself in the shoes of somebody who has never been to the theatre before. They see a poster for a musical that looks amazing, they google it, they see decent seats for £100+. They decide to go for the £30 option in the Gods. They feel ripped off and don’t bother again OR they know that those are crap seats and don’t bother at all. There is nowhere on that main booking page that mentions cheaper, good seats. That is telling people that they only deserve good seats if they’re rich. That is elitist.

Image

My next two points spill into each other, but they are not the same thing. What do you think of when you think of somebody who goes to the theatre. We all just thought of the same old, white couple. They tut at young people who talk at interval? Yeah we all know the type. It’s amazing that these people, who usually have disposable income, go to the theatre and spend money there but they are coming anyway. Why are you therefore using them to advertise?

Some theatres do this amazingly (Bush, Soho, Young Vic, loves) but most don’t. Some shows have gone too far (looking at you Heathers West End transfer) but think: What is the demographic that you think would want to come, but isn’t? If you’re trying to attract non-theatre goers, they have to see themselves in those who are recommending it.

Obviously, some known reviewers have to be included to keep the regulars in but theatres must start including a wider range of reviewers, they must be open to criticism from young people, queer people, Black people... Then, they must show the faces of these reviewers in their advertising, they must include their views using their vocabulary. And once you get these voices (and start respecting them), theatres must start taking these views into account. A mainstream producer actually listening (and properly listening) to the views of not the mainstream critics? That is revolutionary. That’s showing you’re willing to change.

Etiquette

This is the big one. Theatre etiquette is elitist. I’m sure many people know what I mean by this: Hushed tones even when the show isn’t on and you’re in the bar, FOH using theatre-y vocabulary to usher people places (even things like “the house is open” mean nothing to people who aren’t in theatre), expected restraint to reactions towards what’s happening on stage. I’ve never been to a theatre that doesn’t use vocabulary that would be alienating to non-theatregoers. Only a few theatres don’t have that feeling of “we’re better than you” hanging in the air.

I have been told that I do not match up to people’s ideas of expected theatre etiquette twice outside of fandom things. I remember them both. Once, I was laughing at funny moments during a funny play. The second time I was talking to my friends excitedly at interval and had some older theatre-goers tut and ask us to be quiet (hun, it’s the interval). As I mentioned, I go to the theatre all the time, I generally conform (even when I hate it). Imagine how you’d feel if you didn’t know the nonsense rules.

The solution? Dismantle the rules.

People dismiss panto because is does this and it’s the least elitist theatre out there. Stop getting on your high horse about people openly enjoying themselves. And to those panicking, very few people are actually going to chat their way through a whole show they’ve paid money for.

We need more relaxed performances. We need more for disabled people but we also need more for young people, where they can react to what’s going on during the show and whisper to each other about it.

We need more sing-a-longs. Musicals can create an amazing fandom this way. Six is doing an amazing job because they’ve fostered this environment. Imagine a Hamilton sing-a-long. Just sit in that for a moment. Imagine a person who had never been to the theatre before and has heard a few songs of the soundtrack getting the feeling of a gig from the theatre. It’s powerful and it needs to happen.

Shakespeare

Nothing exhibits the elitism of theatre more than Shakespeare. The sheer prevalence of it. And, I’m going to say it: Nobody fully understands what’s going on.

Why, as an industry, are you all so obsessed with a sexist, racist, homophobe who died in the 1600′s? People alive today are writing plays about stories that people want to hear, in a language that people can understand. Commission them.

That is all on that.

Secrecy

There’s certainly something to be said about keeping the magic of theatre alive by keeping tricks a secret. I totally appreciate and love that about this art medium. You watch things happening in real time that look like magic and it’s beautiful.

However, the secrecy around productions has gone too far. Why are full on HQ recordings of shows being filmed for them never to see the light of day? I have seen the argument that people will not feel the need to watch the show if they have seen a recording but I have only seen that argument from people who work in theatre. Listen to the people who just go to the theatre. I don’t know what I can actually say to convince the industry of this, but theatre people will still come because there’s nothing like live theatre.

What you will do by releasing a good recording is open the show to the masses (and make money from it). You will essentially be building a fandom. People can watch football on TV but choose to pay for a ticket to go watch live because it is a different experience. People can listen to a band but choose to pay for a ticket to go to a concert because it is a different experience. It is the same thing. You honestly need to get over this because I think this is a massive reason why this elitism still exists.

Also why not release HQ footage even as a trailer? Stick it on YouTube for free, get ad revenue and advertise.

These are just a few things that need to be taken into consideration when theatres re-open. Theatre must come back better and stronger than it was before and it must get more people in the room. The people will need art.

This is precisely the time when artists go to work. There is no time for despair, no place for self-pity, no need for silence, no room for fear. We speak, we write, we do language. That is how civilizations heal. - Toni Morrison

#theatre #theatre culture #west end #broadway #elitism #opinion

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jovialyouthmusic · 4 years

Text

Silver Service

At last Bastien has Anton in his sights

Word Count 3352

A/N There is a lot of action in this chapter - firearms are used and some are injured, but there are no graphic descriptions. Whole series is not suitable for under 18s

12 Just Desserts?

‘So as you see, we need to know numbers so we can accommodate the Court’ Gladys said as she lead him along the corridors of the first floor, swinging wide door after door to various guest rooms. ‘His Majesty can have the master suite, which has been thoroughly cleaned and renovated since the Duchess passed away’. Eventually she came to a door at the end of a corridor and turned to him.

‘This part is closed off, I’m afraid’ Her tone was apologetic ‘It may look sound from the outside, but dry rot has been found in the supporting timbers so it’s out of bounds until it can be repaired.’ Damien made a mental note – perhaps this was a ruse and she had something to hide.

‘Well it’s certainly an impressive building’ he said admiringly. ‘The walls are thick – are there any secret passages I should know about?’ He pitched his voice to make it appear a joke, but he saw Gladys blanch slightly before laughing.

‘Oh no, nothing like that, although there is a priest hole in the part that’s blocked off. It’s the oldest part of the building’ She turned and they made their way back along the corridor.

‘So I hear the Duchess was quite a character’ He saw her shoulders tense slightly

‘She certainly was a taskmaster’ she replied ‘To be frank, I’m relieved she’s gone, it was very challenging trying to keep her happy. She had mental health issues, but she refused to take medical advice’

‘I’ve not worked with Royalty before’ Damien replied ‘King Liam seems a nice enough person, but those born into wealth and privilege can’t understand things the way most ordinary folk do’ he probed gently, attempting to sound out her loyalties. She gave a hollow laugh

‘And don’t I know it’ she replied ‘Honestly, she genuinely thought we’d been born specifically to serve her and not question her eccentricity’ He made a sympathetic noise.

‘A lot of rich and famous folk in the States are exactly the same. I worked with a few celebrities who’d be right at home in the Court’ he said ‘But I’m not here to complain about the folk who pay me’ he grinned, satisfied that she might be easily influenced by the Sons of the Earth.

‘Well, I must admit the pay cheque is some compensation, she was oddly generous. I think she didn’t really understand the value of money and I’m glad she wasn’t a skinflint.’ Gladys replied as she lead him into her office. They perused some schematics of the grounds to work out parking arrangements and staging for the lantern release. There wasn’t enough time to bring in any heavy duty staging, so they had to work with what they had available.

‘I’m afraid I have to ask about your security arrangements too’ he said ‘the King’s Guard need to know what’s in place before they bring his Majesty in. I have full authorisation to evaluate any weak spots and work out what might be needed to make sure he is safe, though that of course will be up to Captain Lykel’ He saw a shadow cross her face

‘Of course. We didn’t need anything elaborate, despite the Duchess’s dislike of visitors. She relied on keeping the walls and fences well maintained, and the only technology she agreed to was the intercom at the gate.’

‘That’s fine Gladys. If you would email schematics of the house and grounds to Captain Lykel, he’ll make an evaluation’ She nodded uncertainly

‘I’ll do what I can’ she said.

-----

Later on, Damien bid her farewell. He had charmed her and they were on good terms.

‘Are you sure you won’t stay?’ she asked ‘As you saw, we have plenty of room’

‘Thankyou, but I promised to visit some family friends. It’s been a long time since my parents left the country and I’ve a slew of relatives to reconnect with’ He’d thought long and hard about staying, but on balance thought that leaving would bring Anton out of hiding – presuming he was at the manor. The bugs on the luggage could just be sitting in the old locked off wing of the castle and he might have gone elsewhere, but he judged that going back and reporting to Bastien would be a more effective use of his time.

‘She should have emailed plans of the castle to you by now’ he explained to the Captain of the Guard. ‘If you let me look them over I’ll tell you if I think they’re accurate. I think it most likely that if they’re still here, Anton and his men are hiding out in the old wing and plan to stay undetected until the Court arrive. The grounds are extensive but there aren’t any outbuildings they could use that I could see. There’s a stable block that’s unused but it’s not big enough to house anything of any use’

‘I have some plans from a couple of decades ago’ Bastien mused ‘Let’s compare them for any discrepancies. If you go back you could check with her for any additions or renovations – but I think we’re ready to go in. The sooner we move the more advantage we have’

‘Gladys told me that the Duchess relied on keeping the perimeter sound, but it looks like there’s an old entrance that’s not been used for years’

‘We’ve already done a sweep, it’s an old wooden door in the walls, locked and bolted, but the hinges are rotten. The vegetation is challenging, she appears to have only cared about the portion of the grounds she could see from the Manor. Our neighbour Monterisso have some excellent stealth tech that they loaned us for this operation, and we sent a spy drone in as low as we dared. It shouldn’t have been noticed on the ground, it’s whisper quiet and damn near invisible.’ He sat up and straightened his jacket.

‘Time to brief everyone. We move at midnight’

------

‘So the whole damn court is coming here in less than 48 hours’ Anton mused ‘I was planning on striking at Applewood, but this is too good to miss. All we have to do is sit and wait for them to come to us’

‘It does seem too good to be true. Are we sure it’s not a trap?’ Claudius asked cautiously, but Anton waved his hand.

‘They have no idea of this little bolthole, they don’t even know we’re in the country’

‘But that American that snuck around this afternoon saying his parents were Cordonian…’

‘I thought the same, but the accent tied in with his story’ Anton said dismissively. ‘The lantern festival is a fixed date so it’s to be expected they’ll be scrambling to get the place ready, and the Americans have little or no interest in who runs Cordonia as long as they continue to trade with them’

‘As long as the housekeeper kept her mouth shut’ Claudius glowered

‘Of course she did, she’s right in my pocket. I spun her a sob story about how cruel Constantine was to my parents – which is exactly the case, I just threw in the hearts and flowers. She’ll cooperate with us, and I can deal with Lykel when the boy King’s been disposed of.’

‘There’s not many of us though’ Claudius cautioned ‘The Guard will be on full alert’

‘You forget the secret passageways. We can get hold of the King anytime we like with a full guard right outside his door. As soon as he’s dealt with we can invoke the clause of succession and I’ll be on the throne along with the Nevrakis woman. She’s a bit skinny for my liking, but she has spirit. My lawyer has the papers and is ready to make the announcement as soon as I call him’ He yawned and stretched. ‘I’d better get some sleep. Tomorrow we make our plans, and then Liam will walk right into our grasp.’

------

On the stroke of midnight, the Guard entered the grounds of the manor through the old oak door, quickly and quietly. They moved cautiously, using the drone with infra red sensors to check for security patrols. None had been in evidence when Damien had visited, but that was to be expected. Only one man was detected, and was swiftly captured and silenced. Next, two groups infiltrated the Manor, one through the staff entrance which had been left unlocked for night staff, and another through the conservatory. Frightened staff were rounded up and corralled in the staff dining room with a man to guard them in case anyone not loyal to the Crown decided to warn Anton, if indeed he was still there.

Bastien monitored it all from the surveillance van which had been moved to the perimeter of the Manor grounds, as they didn’t expect to meet much resistance. Although the manor was a good size, Damien had been able to ascertain that the bedrooms he had been shown were all unused, and the part that was closed off could not house more than half a dozen men. It was risky not knowing if Anton was there and how many men he had, but that was outweighed by the advantage of surprise.

Damien confronted Gladys, tight lipped and angry at the intrusion. He explained the situation and reluctantly she revealed that the manor did indeed house a number of Anton’s sympathisers. The Duchess had allowed him space for his operations, but she swore it was only a resting place for him – there was another bigger location, though she did not know its whereabouts. It appeared he and the other two men had arrived from Monaco and had planned to move on before he had learned of the charity tour coming to the manor. There were three other men resident at the manor, one of which Damien knew they had already neutralised on their way in. That left Anton, Claudius and three others to track down.

The numbers and the element of surprise were all with them, and Damien lead a team to the first floor of the blocked off section of the manor, which Gladys admitted was not damaged. Another group went in at ground level. He took a deep breath before he carefully opened the door to the corridor beyond.

-------

Anton woke to a rough shake and a cautioning hand on his mouth, and he sat bolt upright without a sound. Claudius stood by his bedside, picking up a torch from the bedside where he had left it to wake him.

‘Get dressed fast, we have company’ he hissed in a low tone.

‘Shit’ he swore ‘How the fuck…’

‘Never mind how, just get some clothes on. Preston and Parks will hold them off, we need to move’

‘We should stand and fight’ he blustered as he grabbed some clothes.

‘We don’t know how many there are. They must have taken out at least one of us to get into the house.’ He went to the door to listen while Anton struggled into pants, sweater, socks and shoes, thanking his lucky stars he slept naked. It had given him valuable seconds. He heard a noise in the corridor outside – voices and a scuffle.

‘For the King! Severus, come out with your hands up.’ was the loud proclamation.

‘Shit, if it’s the Guard they’ll have more than one team.’ He snarled in anger, but Claudius was opening the window and beckoning him over. Swiftly he went across, now hearing gunshots outside. Claudius was scrambling down the vine that grew up the wall to gutter height, and he followed, cursing. He looked out across the lawn and saw a glint in the moonlight in mid air.

‘Fuck, they’ve got a drone’ Claudius swore. ‘I’ll shoot it down and we can run for it. Make for the stables, there’s a car there’ He hit the ground and aimed into the air. A shot rang out, followed by a curse, then another shot. Anton looked toward the stables and they ran together, hearing the whir of the drone’s rotors. Claudius had hit it but it stayed aloft, no longer silent. Anton heard shouts from the manor and looked back to see someone following them, hitting the lawn and racing toward them at breakneck speed.

‘Interpol, stop or I’ll shoot’ he heard the figure shout as he ran. By this time they were at the stables and Claudius turned to fire at their pursuer. Anton fumbled with the door latch and heard a shot and a grunt close by as the door swung open. He saw Claudius stumble and fall, before regaining his feet and lunging after him. A third man was making his way to the car from the house, obviously one of his men, firing at the Interpol man, who threw himself to the ground and rolled toward a bush.

‘Keys - glove compartment’ Claudius gasped. Anton flung himself into the car and rummaged for the key before locating it in the ignition and turning it. Claudius got into the passenger side, blood staining his shirt in the dim light of the dashboard, the other man getting into the back seat. Claudius and he wound down the windows ready to shoot as the engine roared into life. Anton turned the headlights on full to dazzle anyone trying to get to them, and burst out of the stables to barrel off down the drive. He heard shots hitting the car from the Interpol operative – and maybe more.

‘The gates’ grunted Claudius, pain in his voice ‘We’ll have to ram them. They’ll have them closed and covered’

‘Interpol?’ growled Anton ‘Lykel must have called them in, damn him’ They careered along the driveway toward the presumably locked gates. There were no other vehicles blocking the way and no obvious presence, but armed men could be hidden nearby. There was no choice – this was the only exit. Anton rammed the gates and Claudius gasped in pain at the impact, the third man bracing himself so he could shoot if needed. The gates didn’t budge. He tried again without success, and screamed with frustration. He flung the door open and dropped out of the car, hugging the ground.

‘Cover me, damn you’ he snarled as he moved toward the gate, and they crouched with their firearms out, using the car doors as shelter. More shots rang out, but Anton had lost a sense of where they came from in his drive to escape. Cursing his lack of a firearm he climbed onto the top of the car and scaled the gates, feeling a sharp stinging pain in his lower leg.

He dropped over onto the road outside - his ankle blossomed into pain and he realised he’d caught a bullet. He ran for his life as best as he could, adrenalin spurring him on. Shouts and more shots rang out followed by a cry of distress, and he crossed the road alone to make for the forest in the hope of shaking his followers. He had almost made it when lights suddenly dazzled him. Just ahead of him was a van, dark in the shadow of the trees on the verge of the road. The headlights had suddenly snapped on full and he stumbled, arm across his eyes against the light. A figure appeared in the harsh blue white light, broad and tall, and he heard a familiar voice. He also heard the cocking of a firearm behind him.

‘Stop, Severus, there’s no place to go’ came Bastien’s voice. He screamed in rage and threw himself at the Captain of the Guard, barrelling into him with all his weight, judging that the gunman behind him wouldn’t shoot for fear of hitting the Captain. It was sheer luck that he caught Bastien’s injured leg and made him stumble, but that was where his luck ran out. Bastien stepped to the side, regaining his balance and sending Anton to the ground. He swiftly followed him down, knee in his back with his full weight. He heard the breath wheeze out of him and twisted his arm up behind him.

‘Let me go’ he panted when he could get his breath ‘You’ll regret this – I should be king - you’ll see. I’ll have you – executed - when I’m crowned’

‘I think not, Severus’ he replied. By now, others were arriving, and he was cuffed and dragged to his feet. ‘It all ends here, you’ll not escape this time’ Bastien assured him. Damien appeared, breathing heavily, Lewis behind him.

‘Mission accomplished, Captain’ Lewis said ‘We’re double checking for any stragglers, but if our information’s right, we have them all. We’ve a couple of gunshot wounds on both sides but everyone’s alive. One of the men by the gate needs an ambulance, he could bleed out’ Bastien frowned at Damien as Anton was lead away.

‘Looks like you were one of the unlucky ones’ he said, pointing at his upper arm. Dazedly, he turned his head to look at his bloodied sleeve.

‘Just a flesh wound’ he said ‘Are you okay?’

‘Not a scratch, Nazario. Thanks for your help, you made our job much easier’

‘That’s what I do’ he grinned ‘Now, do you think Gladys would break out the brandy?’

‘You can go and find out’ Bastien said ‘I have a phone call to make.’

-------

Bastien settled into the seat in the back of the security van. He called up Sophia’s number and barely heard the ring tone before she answered.

‘Bas! Is that you?’ her voice showed no sign of sleepiness despite the fact that it was some time after midnight.

‘Yes theá mou, it’s all over and I’m fine’

‘Are you? Are you really? No gunshot wound, no knife injury, burns, broken bones?’ Her voice was becoming shrill.

‘Perhaps a bruise or two’

‘A bruise? How could you get a bruise in the surveillance van?’ she scolded, frantic with worry. He sighed.

‘Really Sophia, I’m unscathed. I had the pleasure of capturing Anton myself, but only because he came to me’

‘He came to you? Why didn’t you have a lookout?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Theá mou, be calm’ he said soothingly. ‘Breathe, my goddess. Listen to my voice. All is well. Anton scaled the gates to escape and ran in front of the van. He had no weapons, so I stepped out and apprehended him myself. I had armed support, and all is well’ There was a hiccup on the other end, and he realised she was crying, hopefully with relief, though it was hard to tell just by listening.

‘Come back to me, agápe mou’ she pleaded ‘I need to see you – hold you’ He took a deep breath.

‘Sophia, I love you more than life itself’ he pledged ‘I will be with you as soon as I can. Please, try to sleep, you need rest’

‘It was – it was Anton’ she sobbed ‘I was so afraid he’d take you from me’

‘He’ll not escape this time, I promise’ he said ‘Rest, théa mou. I still have tasks to perform’

‘Let Lewis do it’ she said faintly ‘Please. All I can think of is when Anton had me in the dungeon. I need you’

‘Call Drake’ He replied ‘Remember the techniques I taught you. Breathe’ He wondered at what had triggered her, feeling a pang of guilt at the probability that it was his departure. His normally calm and self possessed lover was in distress at the other end of the line. ‘I have to ring off’ he said soothingly. ‘Promise me you’ll call someone to sit with you until I return’

‘O – okay’ she sniffled ‘I’m sorry Bastien. I don’t know why I’m like this’

‘I broke my promise’ he said regretfully ‘I went into the field. This was important, I know you understand in your logical mind, but your emotions are not so easily soothed. I’ll tell Lewis that I’m coming back. Hold on Sophia, I know you’re strong. Be strong for me, my love’

‘Drive carefully’ she said, her voice a little calmer.

Next Chapter 13 Home and Dry?

#silver service #bastien lykel #damien nazario #anton severus #protect and serve #sophia x bastien

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kathyprior4200 · 3 years

Text

Kathy Prior Comforts Alastor

Another ordinary day at the Hazbin Hotel. Having died in the 2020’s due to covid, I appeared as a watered down human, not quite a demon unless influenced by Alastor’s dark magic. Originally I was going to be transformed into an angel reminiscent of my supposed spirit animal. But Heaven’s elitism rubbed me the wrong way, thus I refused to submit to God. I was banished down to Hell, living in a cardboard box. I was soon fleeing from the exterminators not too long afterwards. If they had gotten me, I’d either be killed or sent back to Heaven to be brainwashed as a white Exorcist. Then Alastor of all people decided to take me in and I arrived at the Hazbin Hotel. There I was good friends with Alastor, Charlie and Niffty, half convinced that they were the voice actors playing some kind of trick on me.

Aside from my demon form that is activated by Alastor’s magic, my afterlife form wasn’t very impressive. I looked like I did when I was alive, except my skin was ghostly pale, my long hair was gray and my eyes had black sclera, purple irises and white pupils. Although I didn’t fit in with the other demons, I could see in the dark and my instincts were heightened.

It’s not a lot of fun when Alastor possesses me or when he decides to swallow me whole. Apparently, there’s something powerful about me that allows him to heal, feel full and even get some rest. Often times, he sits me in front of a radio and has me listen to several of his favorite jazz songs. The little speakers start to glow and static buzzes in my head. His soothing voice washes over me and I find myself in a daze. My eyes glow red with moving black radio dials and my remaining thoughts are shoved to the back of my mind. Alastor soon has control of my body and mind. He calls the process “getting tuned in.”

I then transform into an alligator/red doe hybrid demon named Cerva. In this form, I’m a vicious killer and cannibal who accompanies Alastor, Husk and Niffty on various missions. Using my sharp claws, teeth and some dark magic, I take down pedos, rapists, criminals or anyone that stands in the Radio Demon’s way. My scaly skin helps protect me from most attacks, though I can still be killed by angelic weapons like everyone else. When he releases control of me and I morph back, it feels like a great weight is lifted off my chest. I cannot remember what I did before.

Like Husk and Niffty, I’m stuck under Alastor’s contract for a while. He persuaded me to work for him at the hotel and that “It’s a dangerous world outside.” Naturally I agreed.

Today was fairly busy. Charlie had a meet and greet event to welcome the newcomers Crymini, Mimzy and Baxter. When I wasn’t greeting any guests, I helped Niffty clean the rooms, make the beds and sweep up the floors. Sometimes I would help Alastor and Niffty make tasty jambalaya (with spicy sauce) and other dishes to serve to all the clients. I wasn’t very good at poker but it was still fun to play and watch as Husk skillfully won almost every game. Often, the characters would mostly talk amongst themselves, me fading into the background, being an OC. I was fine with that…it was almost like watching the show I dearly loved on Earth…except now I was a part of it in a way.

After I finished cleaning beer bottles at the Jackpot portion near the lobby, I heard Alastor and Husk talking not too far away by a pool table.

The cat demon let out his usual grumpy sigh. “Man, what a ruckus. I just served dozens of drinks to these annoying tourists who didn’t even stay. What’s the meaning of that?”

“Why Husker!” Alastor said with a laugh, “Ever since our three new demons arrived and signed up for Charlie’s program, more folks are becoming curious about it. Providing them with drinks and entertainment is surely the way to go!”

“Without any breaks?” Husk scowled. “And why’d you make me stretch my wings and do a stupid dance onstage when I got wasted earlier?”

“It was so funny, I had to!” he chuckled. “Even when you’re getting drunk, you can still do your new job well.”

“I’m here to serve drinks and get my money and booze. That’s it. I’m not some fucking clown you can roll into every little scheme of yours.”

“Hmm…maybe you are.”

“I don’t think so. Remember I’m only here because you bribed me with booze. But even that will only go so far.”

“Come now, my friend, why not liven up a little!” Alastor spoke in a loud voice, making Husk’s ears flinch back. “I provided you with some resources to make your life down here more…livable…or rather less dead.”

Audience laughter came from his microphone.

Husk rolled his eyes and muttered. “Your dad jokes make you a fucking joke.” Alastor snickered. Husk seethed, “Ugh great, now it’s rubbing off on me!”

Alastor pulled Husk in close with his arm, much to the cat’s disgust. “Just have some fun and follow my orders and things will go smoothly. You are my good friend after all.”

Husk’s white furry face turned red as he hissed and shoved Alastor away. “I’m not your fucking friend! You’re nothing but a red psycho freak I happen to unfortunately work under. If I had my way, I’d be a rich free man who could gamble and do whatever I want! Better yet, I’d be far away from all you morons.”

Husk picked up a few cards and shuffled them in his hands. “I had a full house and was about to win the pot. And then you pulled me out of nowhere and placed me in this dump for your own amusement.” He pointed a claw into Alastor’s chest a few times, making him flinch a bit. “When ae you gonna get it past your egotistical head that I. Want. To. Be. Left. Alone?!”

An uncomfortable silence followed. Niffty briefly looked over while she was busy dusting a bookshelf with a white feather duster.

“Looks like our pussy cat’s in his usual bad mood,” Alastor mused in his radio voice. He tilted up the corners of Husk’s mouth into a smile, which quickly fell when he let go. “You know I love to see that smile…”

“Shut up!” Husk pounded his furry fists onto the pool table, making the colored balls rattle. “Just shut the fuck up! I’m sick of you touching me all the time and getting into my face. I’d say you’re lost in this ridiculous musical world of yours…you think you can do anything you want but you don’t seem to be aware of who’s right in front of you!”

The large yellow smile remained on Alastor’s face, though his red eyes looked concerned and confused.

“You’re delusional, thinking Hell revolves around you like some sort of audience.” Husk’s eyes had faint red veins popping out. “You may be powerful, but guess what? You can’t have your way all the time. I learned that lesson the hard way. I may be in your partnership for a while…” He hiccupped, “…but here’s what I really think of you…”

Husk’s breath smelled of booze as the cat spilled out his previously hidden angry thoughts.

“You’re an insufferable…”

Every word was a jab to Alastor’s chest…

“Egotistical…”

He felt the shoves of surrounding boys in a long ago life…

“Filthy…”

The taunts of “dirty boy” and the n word…being forced into a tub of water, scrubbed all over roughly and feeling like he was drowning…

“Immature…”

Authority figures looking at him in disapproval as he auditioned for various radio stations…

“Maniacal…”

Alastor slashing down his hunting knife onto a helpless victim in a snowy wood…

“Heartless…”

Alastor dancing and flirting with pretty women but turning away when they tore desperately at his clothes…

“Couillon…”

Running away as police dogs bit and tore at his legs…

“Retard!”

Pounding on a door in a cold empty asylum room, cold stares from the towering wardens and nurses. Words like “loon”, “wacko,” being mouthed at him as the gray walls closed in…

A sharp record scratch pierced the air.

A black and red gloved hand clutched at Husk’s throat. A tight grip lifted the cat several inches off the ground. He struggled to pry off Alastor’s hand, but his hold was firm. Husk struggled and gasped as he frantically tried to gulp for air. The room darkened and soon filled with radio static and floating red Voodoo symbols. Alastor’s large orbs turned pitch black, with small red dials twitching menacingly. He slowly brought Husk close to his face until they were almost nose to nose.

He spoke in a low demonic radio voice, his mouth not moving.

“Remember who you’re dealing with. I gave you your privileges, and I can easily take them away.”

Just when Husk was about to pass out, he casually tossed him aside. He landed with an “oof” onto the floor. The static and symbols vanished as Alastor’s eyes returned to their normal shade of red. Husk groaned and stood up on shaky legs. He took several deep breaths and glared.

“Guess cats don’t always land on their feet,” Alastor mused as more microphone laughter followed.

“Get ready for another big day tomorrow!” Alastor called cheerfully to Husk as if nothing had happened. Husk flipped him a middle claw in response as he slouched away. Alastor walked on.

“Oh Husk,” Niffty called out. “Don’t forget that you need another bath tomorrow. I‘ll be happy to clean you all up!”

“Suck it, shrimpy bitch!” he yelled.

“Language, kitty!”

Niffty hopped down from the bookshelf and scurried toward Alastor. He looked down at her.

“Well hello little darling!” he greeted to the cyclops maid.

“Hello Alastor,” she beamed. “I was just finishing up my rounds for the day when I heard you and Husk talking. It sounded like arguing…”

“Oh it was nothing, my dear! Just Husk in his grumpy cat mood as usual. I was trying to cheer him up.”

“Okay,” she said. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow, so much stuff to do! Is there anything else I can do to help out, sir?”

Alastor waved his hand, “Nothing at all. You did a splendid job today.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, her large golden eye darting back and forth. “You know, you look pretty dirty, no offence. Perhaps you could use a nice clean…” She looked over at his staff, then stared at the area around his legs a little bit too long. “Your staff I can so easily reach…”

She extended her hand with a hungry expression.

“Ha! No.”

Alastor instinctively stepped back, his frozen smile still on his face. He walked briskly past her without another word.

“See you in the morning!” she trilled with a happy wave before scurrying off.

The room was quiet and empty.

What in the world just happened?

A nagging feeling spread through me as I walked in the same direction as Alastor. It was a strange urge to go and talk with him. His tall frame strolled down the hall and up a flight of stairs. I silently followed, careful to stay a distance away and out of sight. As I almost entered my room, Room 42, the feeling compelled me to wander towards Alastor’s room instead.

His room was across from Charlie’s and Vaggie’s, not too far away from Angel’s. The black door was etched with red Voodoo symbols and had a golden deer knocker. Strangely enough, he left it slightly open. I inched closer and peered through the opening into a dim room.

“Come in, dear.”

The door opened wider on its own, revealing Alastor sitting in a dark red throne-like chair on a small balcony. He was facing the sunset sky, but must have sensed my presence. He had taken off his red pinstriped suit and had it neatly folded on a chair, near where his staff was. He appeared to be wearing a dark red old fashioned nightgown with slippers made of deer fur.

In the room, there was a king-size bed with red satin sheets on it, an elegant bedside table and dresser to match. A small chandelier made of bones hung from the ceiling in the center, illuminating blood red carpets decorated with small golden eyes and antlers in rows. There was a large vanity mirror framed by round theater lights and an array of softly lit candles here and there. And of course, there were old fashioned radios all over the room in various sizes. A four-eyed deer head stared back at me from a plaque on the fancy red wallpaper. More disturbing were the various skin-stitched Voodoo dolls and skulls hanging from the ceiling.

A cool soothing evening breeze met my face as I stepped outside into the inferno air. I sank down into another chair next to Alastor. The sky was painted a brilliant red and orange, the magenta pentagram glowing and moving above like a revolving clock.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you sir…” I began. A small radio sat beside Alastor, emitting radio noises and various sound clips. Strangely they sounded almost the same every time I heard them. In fact, his habit of using his microphone for sound effects…it was almost like a comfort mechanism for him.

“Well usually at a time like this I do prefer to be alone, but since you were nearby…”

“I just…wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I’m perfectly splendid, sweetheart, no need to worry.”

For a millisecond, his eyes told a different story. Not only did I have better senses, I could read expressions and sense intentions better as well.

“I believe there is more than that. I heard you guys arguing. Frankly, Husk was being a bit of a jerk.”

Alastor waved his hand. “That’s what he does.”

“But it was different this time, wasn’t it?”

Alastor just shrugged.

“Charlie and I were talking today and we both can agree: you can’t hide your feelings forever.”

“Whatever are you talking about?”

“I can sense that you are lonely, deep down. You want to find a place to belong but your sadistic nature makes others afraid of you. You’re afraid to trust other people.”

He turned to me with a deadly glare but I remained where I was. “If you’re planning on killing me, there’s no point as I’m already dead. Hear me out for a second.”

He paused and leaned back to listen.

“I’m not saying you should reveal your sad secrets to everyone. I’m just saying you should embrace the fact that we all have vulnerabilities and bad days. It’s perfectly okay to cry once in a while. Perhaps your search for entertainment is more than just that. It’s a search for your mother, your friends, a search for your true place on the stage of life.”

“I’m never fully dressed without a smile,” he seethed with his plastic smile. “End of story. Since when has an audience member gave the star of the show directions?” he inquired, eyebrow raised. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Well perhaps you need a better script,” I added, arms folded. I stared at his long yellowed nails, his gloves off for a rare moment. “And serious bodily care.”

A brief silence. Had I been anyone else, I’d be a pile of ash.

I continued. “Husk did have a point, though. He wanted to be left alone but you still decided to invade his space. You told Charlie that you want to see people fail, despite her not wanting to hear it. Plus, I’d expect an evil killer like you to take joy in the fact that people run away from you in fear. But you don’t like it. Because you seek something more.”

“I don’t need to hear your delusional words.”

“I’m more observant than you think. You created me to be submissive, but also tough and smart. It’s my duty to serve you and the hotel right now. And you bet your bottom dollar that me and your friends will try and do what’s best for everyone.”

More silence as we watched the sunset in deep thought. After several minutes, I turned to him and couldn’t believe what I saw. I spotted a stray tear fall from Alastor’s eye…and his smile slowly faded.

I covered my mouth with my hands as I let out a soft surprised gasp.

His look alone told me that I’d be demon meat if I told anyone else. Fortunately, I never break my promise.

I thought of all his behaviors I noticed and it suddenly clicked. There was the feeling again, a sense of a peculiar deep connection between me and him. And I figured out what it was.

“Alastor…do you know what autism is?”

He gave me a perplexed look. “Stop making things up.”

“It’s a real thing…but I imagine no one talked about it in your time. Autism is one of many developmental disorders that impairs socialization. Your behaviors appear to be very similar.”

Alastor growled, teeth bared in warning. “I can assure you that I’m perfectly talkative enough. You call me dumb and I can easily…”

“I know because I have it too.”

Alastor’s eye twitched. “What?”

“Do any of these traits sound familiar to you? Being a nerdy child lost in your own world? Being preoccupied and very skilled in your many talents as you grew up? Never quite fitting in with your peers no matter how hard you try?”

Nothing was heard but the sounds of radio glitches. Orange light glinted off his monocle under his right eye.

“Those with autism are often very knowledgeable, setting their minds to something and never letting go of it. But they have a hard time seeing things from another person’s perspective. It’s not that they are antisocial and heartless. Rather, they feel things deeply…but they don’t know how to communicate properly with others around them. Some of them aren’t interested in romance, either.”

Alastor rolled his eyes. “I have shows to plan for my demonic audience. I don’t have time for feelings and…”

I continued on. “You’re content with living in your own world of radios, music and murder…because for you, it was the only way to survive and make yourself known in your previous life. Communicating through the radio, playing music, dancing and singing on stage… that is when you feel truly alive. Because your listeners hang onto your every word, not caring who you are on the outside.”

His pupils grew slightly. “You’re making assumptions. You’re forgetting about murder…”

“Bringing joy to others outweighs bringing suffering...at least that’s how it should be. There’s nothing wrong with doing what you love…except when it causes harm to others.”

“Demons kill and eat other all the time. Surely you must know that sometimes death and torture are necessary.”

“You do have a good point. But…I’m talking about your previous life, and why you were sent down here…”

“I killed those racist bastards for good reasons. When you discover there’s an afterlife full of magic, you go out of you way to make deals for power. It’s what I’ve been doing for years. It’s impossible to be sinless, for sinners lost their chance to ascend the moment they died on Earth!”

“But it doesn’t have to be that way. Say we take the necessary steps to prove Heaven wrong…”

“Heheheh, there you go, sounding delusional like Charlie.”

“Just be glad I’m not as distrustful or hateful of men as Vaggie.”

“Angel Dust is probably worse…”

I chuckled out loud at that. “Personal space isn’t in his vocabulary.”

I took a breath. “Look Alastor, I’m not saying it will be all be rainbows like Charlie claims. I’m just saying it’s not impossible to redeem sinners. Back to the main topic: we both have autism. Your special interests are radios, entertainment, murder and dark magic.”

Alastor made a face and shook his head. “That term you mentioned didn’t exist when I was alive,” he said. “Anyone who was considered strange or deviant were ignored at best. At worst, they were arrested, killed or thrown into asylums. If it weren’t for my beloved mother…I would’ve wasted away a long time ago. And despite enjoying the company of beautiful ladies, I’ve never had much interest in intimacy. My broadcasting career was my life.”

This time I listened quietly. He continued. “I’m only telling you all this because you technically don’t exist in the Hazbin timeline. And because…I can trust you enough, like Charlie and Rosie and Mimzy…”

He sighed again. “Like a skilled actor, I learned not just how to present myself on the air. Thanks to my mama, I learned how to socialize and mimic others around me. It was a way for me to be confident in the face of daily disdain. Smiling became my way of life…my survival skill. If I were to cry and appear weak, who knows what might’ve happened to me. Eventually I became famous for my broadcasting and my music all throughout Louisiana, but it still wasn’t quite enough. I then found another coping mechanism…”

The aura around him grew red…

“One that made me feel like I found my place in the world. How good it felt when I could hear their screams…see the life leave their eyes. How from the moment their bodies turned cold, I knew they could never take advantage of me and my family again…”

His black antlers arched slightly past his face. He lowered his head as static faded in and out. Here was the infamous and ferocious Radio Demon pouring out his secrets to me. I almost didn’t know what to say.

He covered his eyes with his hands, long fingers in claw shapes almost tearing at his pale gray skin. His voice broke in a record scratch…and this time he spoke without the radio effect, barely audible: “I miss her so much.” His fluffy ear tufts briefly drooped as he conjured the loving smiling brown face of his French Creole mother in his head.

We sat in silence for a while. “I hope you can see her again,” I said. “But…you need to have faith. Not in Charlie’s program per se…but in yourself. I know change is hard…I’m not saying go play with dogs and use new technology. I mean, don’t be afraid to explore your feelings, figure out what you truly want in your second life.”

Alastor’s remaining tears sizzled off his face and his tufts lifted back up. “That’s easy. I want to entertain others and have everyone do what I want…endlessly feast on flesh and never be bored…”

“We both know it doesn’t work like that. What you want is nothing compared with what you need. You need love. Friends. The joys of music and a purpose. Instead of killing individuals…you need to kill off your own barriers.”

“Easier said than done. What if I don’t want to change?”

“You’ll either spiral downward into madness, or you’ll slowly change for the better while still retaining your good qualities. If you want to see your mother in Heaven, you’re gonna have to put in some effort. I may sound like Charlie when I say this but…I know you can do it.”

Alastor gradually relaxed, his antlers retreating back to their usual stumps. He soon stood up, anxious to have some space. “Thank you for this lovely chat. Now I’m off to read my scripts and go to bed for a little.”

I stood up and followed. “How long do you usually sleep?”

“Thirty minutes,” he shrugged. “I rest by the wall with my eyes open.”

I gasped out loud and bared my teeth. “Not on my watch, mister. Get into bed, now!”

“Deer don’t need sleep.”

I put my hands on my hips. “Everyone needs sleep, especially you! I promise nothing is going to happen. Your shadow will guard your room and suck the soul out of any intruder. Plus you have several friends and kingpins who are loyal to you. You want to truly be the star, Alastor? Start by taking care of yourself. You are the most important person in your life.”

Alastor smirked. “Like I don’t already know that.”

“Good. Now rest.”

I turned to leave before I freeze. Gathering my courage, I turned to Alastor who sat on the bed. “Alastor…may I give you a hug?”

He stared at me, taken aback. No one had ever asked him for a hug before. He almost flinched when I slowly walked toward him.

After a moment, his face softened. “Just this once.” He leaned into my arms and chest. I got over my brief surprise by returning the embrace, my eyes closed, tears falling. I opened them and saw to my utter delight, his fluffy red and black deer tail wagging a bit! We soon parted and he wiped the tears from my face with his fingertips.

“Now darling, don’t forget to smile! You’re never fully dressed without one.”

I laughed through my tears. His charm worked every time. “Hey, don’t forget to ask people if they want to be touched before you do so. That’s lesson one.”

“You’re my servant, not my teacher,” he spoke up.

I spread out my arms. “This is Hell, Alastor, we can be anything. The world is a stage after all!”

Alastor chuckled, but I sensed that he wasn’t content with taking my advice any time soon. But I had tried nonetheless.

We bid our goodnights, me feeling slightly better. Just before I closed Alastor’s door and headed for my room, his whisper of a voice floated by my ears:

“Thank you Ms. Prior. Stay tuned.”

#alastor #autism #hazbinhotel

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weshallc · 4 years

Text

Berns Night.

So we’ve had a lot of birthdays @thatginchygal @rahleeyah @wednesdaygilfillian (sorry I missed that one) @roguesnitch coming up and @ilovemushystuff is celebrating too! and @h4t08 finally joined Tumblr and @clonethemidwife has returned and there are lots of new folk. Sooo I felt like throwing a party and there ain’t nothing like a Crown Inn party!!!!

This was supposed to be a Crown Stoppy Back but had other ideas so I will post the first chapter tonight as people are still recovering from Burns Night. Don’t worry if you are not familiar with the Burns Night traditions they will be explained more in chapter two. Probably 3 in all. We shall see as they say!

As always, I would be lost without @lovetheturners endless patience and thanks to @roguesnitch for encoraging me. This is dedicated to the most bonniest of lads I hope you had a great birthday and Burns Night with the Bard himself this year😉😘🤗

CHAPTER ONE: FAIR FA’ YOUR HONEST, SONSIE FACE

“Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.” Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the north star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cut through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one as the incision was violently made. No one daring to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet the ceremony is over, it’s time for eating and drinking something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn-haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition. It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. ”Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the kind of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face that she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior, and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar's daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue well sort of a queue. In London a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored and anyone who called the barmaid by name being bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those words.

All her life she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea, he had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable she hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts, it was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend Valerie, I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter,

“Yes, yes I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash and a pint of Buckles Best

and for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights, or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner, most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double it’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when me and the wife took over she was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one and now there was just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way, under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present, her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn't dream of it surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I've met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don't mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More's the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a...”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can't imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realizing the stranger was still watching her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks and she suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realizing her arse was in the air and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion don’t you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that. God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me, I can feel it.

#call the midwife #crown jewels #turnadette au #call the midwife au #paddy and bernie #and everyone else #al's fic

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mikeymagee · 5 years

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Hello! I was reading through the notes on your post about Black Panther and I'm confused about some things. What's wrong with non-black POC aspiring to achieve the same representation that black folks got with Black Panther?

There’s nothing wrong with wanting representation. There’s also nothing wrong with demanding good representation for an underrepresented group of people.

The problem however, is that a lot of these discussions happen after Black people have made strides for themselves. I’m not sure if you were around during the #OscarsSoWhite controversy back in 2015/2016, but I certainly was. April Reign, a Black woman created the hashtag as a means of getting better representation for all marginalized groups (including Black people, NBPOC, LGBT, Women, people with disabilities, etc) Now the people who spoke up the most during this were Black people (and that’s not to say there weren’t NBPOC’s. and other marginalized voices speaking up, but Black people got most of the attention (whether because we were louder, or because of hypervisibility or what have you) and Black people got most of the brunt and criticism. Saying that we’re “Just looking for things to be upset about” and “This doesn’t even really matter” and people were all up in Ms. Reign’s mentions with their racist shit.

Once the controversy hit the big stage, suddenly more and more NBPOC were beginning to speak up, but when they did, it was only to criticize Black people for not placing ALL POC’s in the limelight.

Look at the #NotYourMule tag on Twitter for more information (and there were plenty of think pieces on the hashtag as well).

It’s like, when Black people advocate for something we’re always “Complaining too much and that’s why we’re behind” but once our voices and issues come to the forefront of conversations, suddenly other groups demand that we “quiet down” so they can “speak” even though there’s nothing stopping them from advocating for their own issues.

like when MIA criticized Beyonce for not speaking about Muslim lives when she had the perfect opportunity to speak on those issues herself.

Or when Ming Na Wen only spoke up about #OscarsSoWhite when it was time to criticize Chris Rock (a Black man) for not being “inclusive enough”

Or when Gina Rodriguez kept opening her mouth to belittle Black women and the strides Black people have done in the entertainment industry (many of whom are/were Afro-Latinas)

Or when Aziz Ansari in that episode of Master of None pretty much threw shade a black people because “We have Beyonce and other Black people to advocate for our issues while Asians don’t”

Or when Salma Hayek spoke over Jessica Williams when she was trying to talk about her experiences being a Black woman.

Or every Black history month when I, and many other people I follow/know have to explain that 1. There are other months that celebrate the history of non-white people and 2: No, it’s not Black people’s fault that they may not get as much attention as BHM.

I remember when Aquaman was first making the rounds on the Twitter verse and there were plenty of people pretty much demanding that Black people show up for Aquaman the same way we did for Black Panther. There seems to be an undercurrent of entitlement to our labor, our voices, our movements, and everything else we do.

And these are just a few examples. They only ever seem to find their voices when Black people are making headway for out own issues (and again, that’s not to say ALL NBPOC do this, but enough do that it is a sticking point for a lot of Black people.)

I’ll even give you another example. I’m a gay man, and in the 2000′s the biggest phrase for the LGBT movement was “Gay is the New Black” as if Black people had “had their turn” and needed to step aside and let “The New Minority” take the spotlight. And what that did was not only appropriate Black Civil Rights iconography, but also erased Black Queers (like myself) and made it seem like we didn’t deal with both antiblack racism and homophobia at the same time. People are more than happy to take our history and our iconography to make strides for themselves, while also erasing and ignoring Black people they come in contact with. Why?

I’m all for solidarity. I’m all for working together so that everyone can have a voice and good representation, but I am not here for other groups trying to make Black people feel guilty for trying and making strides for our community.

And Crazy Rich Asians, Aquaman and Coco all did very well in the Box Office, and yet I don’t see any think pieces demanding that we have a “Mexican Aquaman” or a “Polynesian Crazy Rich Asians” or an “Asian Coco”. And why should we? Each of those films were beautiful in how they portrayed their varying cultures and no one is saying “We need a Non-Asian/Non-Mexican/Non-Polynesian” version of these narratives, but for some reason that’s what everyone seems to say whenever we get a Black film.

Yes, I want inclusion and diversity in all facets of our entertainment but I’m sick of being made to feel guilty about taking pride in seeing how wonderful and beautiful Black people can be and are.

EDITED: I edited out a term in my response that can be considered offensive towards the Disabled community, thanks to the recommendation of @beefnap.

#nbpoc #race #asks #long post #black people #solidarity

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gisachi · 4 years

Link

12 Games: Shinichi and Ran Game #3 – Old Maid Rating: T Summary: She hoped that once he made the call, her phone would ring. But it didn't. Of course not. There's no way that he'd dial her, right? After all, he's supposed to dial the person he likes. AU

(Read here or in FFN! Link provided.)

-o-o-o-o-o-

"I don't think this is a good idea, Sonoko."

"Oh c'mon. Don't be silly! You just told me the other day that you're bored to death. I'm not even surprised though. Your life only basically revolves around school and karate, Ran! Now thank me because I'm going to make your life a bit more interesting."

The cheerful, light ginger-haired lady did not even give her friend a moment to reply, because as soon as she finished talking, she grabbed her friend's arm and pulled her along with her out of their classroom and into the direction of the adjacent room.

"I will introduce you to Sonoko-sama's 'after-school 'club' activity'!"

For socialites like Sonoko, classroom hopping was a thing after school. That's how the likes of her garnered so many friends in campus. But this long-haired brunette friend of hers, Ran, was the opposite. Sure, she's pretty popular, being known as the karate queen in Teitan High because of her unmatched prowess in the said martial arts, but it was precisely because of that that most students in her school found her kind of intimidating and thus unapproachable. Which was sad because in reality she's very far from that. She's sweet and lovable and all kinds of good and Sonoko could certainly attest to it, having known her since they were kids.

Through the glass window from the corridor, Ran saw some students sitting in a messy circle near the teacher's desk inside that adjacent room. They looked rather – how should she put it – poised and rich. Not that she had any problem with that, but she hated small talks and if she had to deal with it later, she'd probably just rely on her friend Sonoko to keep her afloat in the boat. Her friend never ran out of topics, which made her such a valuable, life-of-the-party kind of person.

Sonoko slid the door open and casually barged in like it was her own classroom. "Yo, minna!"

"Hi, Sonoko-san. We were just talking about you." The girl with a long wine-red hair standing by the window greeted her. Her voice was high-pitched but not the annoying kind. Ran thought she was really pretty.

"And I see you brought a friend?" The student sitting by the desk near the pretty woman spoke this time. He looked like a serious gentleman. Though he spoke fluent Japanese, he didn't look like one. His blonde hair and light brown eyes screamed English. A foreign transferee, perhaps.

The dark-skinned guy sitting on the teacher's desk inspected her from head to toe.

"Wait a sec. Could this nee-chan be, Mouri Ran?" the guy inquired.

"You mean, the karate queen? A pleasure to meet you! I'm Ooka Momiji." Momiji extended her hand at her which she gladly accepted. As Ran shook her hand, she couldn't help but notice the curly-haired girl's incredibly huge front.

The dark-skinned guy spoke again. "I'm Hattori Heiji. That obnoxious looking dude right there is Hakuba, while the woman beside him is Akako. Both folks are from class 2-A."

"And this guy right here," he patted the back of the guy sitting on the teacher's chair next to him, "is Kudo Shinichi."

Ran’s eyes brightened at the guy who was just introduced. Either it was her unsureness or his impulse that the guy’s eyes glimmered as well in reaction to what she herself did.

“Oh, I know him!” Ran said.

“Right, everybody in this school knows about Kud—"

“He was a classmate in middle school.”

Everyone in that room stared at her as if she had said something off.

But Shinichi smiled kindly, effectively disrupting the problematic expression of the others.

“Oh—yeah. You’re right, Ran-san.”

Sonoko nudged Ran’s shoulders.

“Ran! That’s Kudo Shinichi, the great detective! He sometimes teams up with Hattori in solving cases, and the two of them are currently the heartthrobs in campus! You didn’t know that?”

“Stop Sonoko. That’s not really important, is it?” It wasn’t obvious that Shinichi was embarrassed, but from the likes of it, he seemed to have already gotten used to this treatment and had already mastered how to react when people introduce him as THE Kudo Shinichi.

“But that’s not a lie, nee-chan. Currently though I am number one and Kudo is number two.” The guy named Heiji butted in, ruffling the hair of his companion who was reading a Sherlock Holmes book on the side. She rather found the dynamics of the two cute.

“Really? That’s awesome.”

Of course she knew Kudo Shinichi to be a great detective. But she didn’t have to tell and she wondered why. Perhaps because she remembered him better when they were in middle school; they were paired up for a project and even if it was for a week she felt herself developing a small crush on him. Not because of his looks (though she did factor that in, how his face was so charming and almost too perfect, a wonderful product of a beautiful actress mom and a handsome novelist dad) nor his popularity (she didn’t even know he was that popular when they were still in middle school), but because in the short time that they’d worked together, she was captivated by his strong principles and ideals. She remembered having a small conversation with him while they were doing the project. They were talking about aspirations in life, and when she learned that his father was a crime novelist, she asked if he wanted to be like him. His answer was a remarkable no. “I don’t want to write about detectives. I want to be one.” Unadulterated conviction reflected in his eyes. It astounded her how someone in the prime of his age had already decided on what he’d become and how he’d do it. And when he went on further on how he’d like to be the modern Sherlock Holmes, and how he would never let a culprit die even if they did wrongful acts because that would make him, the detective, no different from a murderer, or how reason and logic aren’t necessary to help a person regardless of what kind of life that person had lived, she couldn’t help but admire the way he viewed and understood things from his own perspective. She saw a young boy who was principled but kind; a boy that would seek the truth to its end but would make sure that lives wouldn’t be in danger along the way.

That short interaction stayed with her even after the project, after middle school, and even until now. Her simple crush wasn’t a big deal, she never talked about it with Sonoko. It was just a puppy-admiration thing, and it wasn’t like they’d meet and talk to each other again after that project, so she just let her puppy-crush feelings settle at the corner. That’s why to have the opportunity to sit with him in the same circle came as a surprise. She doubted he even remembered their interaction though because it was a long time ago and they just talked for a week, in person and through text for the sake of the project. Maybe it was a good thing to let him remember by bringing that up instead of acknowledging his grandiose status in school. He probably had enough of that already as introductions.

“This is Ran, Teitan’s karate champ and my best friend since forever!” Sonoko hugged Ran as she proudly introduced her to the others. Ran awkwardly smiled at them and waved. So this was what it felt like standing in front of a crowd of ‘elite’ individuals looking at you. She didn’t feel outcasted though, because they felt all welcoming and fun although it wasn’t apparent on their faces.

“Ran, now that you’ve been introduced to everyone in this room, you’ll have to participate in our ‘club activity’.” Sonoko led her to sit on one of the student chairs.

After Ran asked what kind of activity that would be, Sonoko revealed a pack of cards from her pocket and tossed it on the teacher’s table.

“Actually, nothing. We do nothing. Just random stuff, whatever we feel like. But as the initiator of this group, today I, Sonoko-sama, feel like playing cards.”

Cool, Ran had never played cards before. It’s nice to try something new.

“But if you may know, Ran-san, we don’t care much about the random stuff. We care more about its results.” Akako approached the girls and sat on a nearby chair.

“Because the one who loses gets a dare!” Sonoko added, grinning slyly at her now bemused friend.

“Last week Hakuba-kun had to sit on Heiji-kun’s lap until we finish all rounds and it was the loveliest moment I have ever seen,” Momiji reminisced and everyone laughed except for the two scoffing guys.

“And you know what? Today’s consequence is going to be more fun – the loser must call the person they like and confess!” Sonoko declared.

“Oh, juicy.” Akako commented. “I wonder who from this circle will call me.”

Turning his head slowly to face her, Hakuba stared her down with a straight face. “Akako-san, not everyone is in love with you.”

“That’s what you think, Hakuba-kun,” she contended, with a matching wink.

The tables were now rearranged so that all of them were facing each other like they were in a meeting. Presiding that ‘meeting’ was Sonoko, who had now dealt the cards and announced that they’d be playing Old Maid. She explained the mechanics and everyone got it right away.

“Right. So I just need to get pairs for all my cards.” Ran mentally noted. She looked around her and everyone was focused discarding paired cards from their hands.

Across her was Shinichi, who, with a disinterested face, nonetheless participated in the game.

She paused and admired how he looked. His appearance was different from the last time they were together – his face was much younger then, but now his hair was more refined, shoulders broader, jaw much angular. Yet his eyes still reflected that same old confident vibe. She silently wished that he would look at her direction so that she could admire his beautiful hazel eyes better. And surprisingly, he did. He must have noticed her staring at his direction for a while now that he had to look back at her and acknowledge it. But once their eyes met, she got startled and immediately looked away, embarrassed. She felt like a creep. Meanwhile, Shinichi just pulled a questioning look before returning his eyes to his own hand. Nobody saw, not even Ran, how the corner of his lips tilted slightly for a smile.

“Alright! Let’s start the first round!” Sonoko picked a card from the deck of Hakuba, the person to her left. Lucky for the woman, the first card she picked had a pair.

The game continued clockwise, with Hakuba getting from Ran and Ran getting from Momoji, who got from Akako, then Shinichi, then Heiji then back to Sonoko. Cards were discarded so quickly until finally there were only two people left.

Shinichi with two cards, and Ran with one.

The girls cheered at Ran. It was her turn now. There was a 50-50 chance that she’d be the Old Maid. If she got this one wrong, she’d have to reveal to Sonoko and to these new acquaintances her crush. And it’d be very awkward. Because that would be him. The guy right in front of her.

Closing her eyes in nervousness, she decided to pick the card on her left and on Shinichi’s right.

And she got it.

Ace of spades paired with the ace of hearts she held.

“Oh my gosh it’s Kudo-kun!” everyone in the room laughed.

“Nice one, Ran-san,” Hakuba winked at her. Judging from everyone’s reaction, it’s as if they had been waiting for this moment, for Shinichi to lose. And now that it happened, everyone was thanking her for doing the honor of defeating him.

Ran let out a sigh of relief. By sheer luck, she was saved from a sudden revelation of her hidden crush, who, unbeknownst to the people in the room, was in that same circle. Her contender, even. Glad of her narrow escape, she grinned widely like the rest of them.

“Now, who are ya gonna call Kudo?” Heiji basked at his friend, who just grunted in annoyance.

“I told you, there’s no one,” Shinichi grumbled.

“You’re a bad liar Kudo-kun. Your ears are turning red.” Akako pompously flipped her hair to the side, watching the teenage detective glare at her with warm cheeks and red ears.

“I know who! It’s Uchida Asami-san, right? That pretty senior who gave you your favorite lemon pie during soccer practice?” Sonoko jested.

“Uchida-san? Oh, that senpai is rather pretty. A lot of guys swoon over her. Ya didn’t tell me you’re one of those guys, Kudo!”

“Go on, call her! What a lucky girl.” Momoji raved, looking at Shinichi endearingly.

Ran, who remained silent all throughout the scene, just watched each and every one of them make their guesses as to this mystery woman. For some reason, at that moment, she felt rather invisible. Not because of their doing or that she felt excluded or something. But she was hoping that maybe anyone, Sonoko perhaps, should mention, even in passing, her name. You know, just to suggest, even as a joke. But no one seemed to have noticed. Well, she wasn’t making it obvious to anyone either, even to her best friend. And with all the beautiful people in Teitan High, Shinichi certainly had many options and the odds that he would indeed have a crush on her were nil.

The detective just stared at all of them with half lidded eyes. It wasn’t in his personality to shun everyone, and he didn’t seem like the type who’d chicken out on the last minute. Taking a deep breath, he took out his phone and flipped it open.

“Fine. I will do it. But do me a favor and don’t make any silly reactions, got it?” Shinichi enunciated.

It was only for a split moment but Ran may have noticed him flick his eyes into her direction.

The group cheered when Shinichi started to dial the mystery person’s number. He then positioned the phone near his ear and waited for the call to connect.

She hoped that once he made the call, her phone would ring. But ten seconds in and her phone didn’t. He was already waiting for the person on the other end of the line to answer it, so of course that person couldn’t be her now. She pursed her lips and stared at the window, trying to mask her crestfallen expression.

Not a big deal.

Totally not a big deal.

A minute passed but the call didn’t connect and he was just directed to voice mail. Wondering what was up, he dialed the number for the second time and waited, but still to no avail.

For the third time, he dialed and his phone continued to ring, until finally the person he was trying to call, answered.

Everyone was staring at Shinichi but to their surprise he didn’t speak. Instead, his eyes were wide and he looked confused, and nervous. Ran couldn’t understand what was happening but she had a feeling that his surprised look was not because the call connected, but because the call did connect when he was perhaps expecting that it shouldn’t.

So Shinichi just sat there and everyone’s attention was on him. They could hear the voice on the other end but the words the person was saying were unintelligible.

“Yes. I-I’m sorry. I thought—” Shinichi spoke in a flustered manner.

The voice didn’t even let him finish. It just hang up.

For several seconds, Shinichi was left staring at his phone. His face was a bit flushed. Then he lifted his head and looked at Ran first, then at Sonoko, and then at the other people in the room, all of whose expressions were as confused as he was.

“But that’s a guy’s voice.” Heiji started.

Slowly and cautiously, Momiji went near him and placed one hand on his shoulders.

“I’m sorry Kudo-kun, we didn’t know you’re…”

Shocked at the result of what had just transpired and how the others were interpreting it – rather poorly, that is – Shinichi opened his mouth to explain.

“Barou! That person was –”

Before he could even comment, his phone rang.

“Oh, Megure-keibu. Yes. Yes. Got it. Right now? Okay. We’ll be there shortly.”

He closed his phone and grabbed his bag, motioning Heiji and Hakuba to tag along with him.

“Hattori, Hakuba, we’re leaving. Megure-keibu wants us to go to TMPD. They need our testimonies regarding that robbery case we solved last week.”

“Aww, you’re leaving already? That sucks. I guess that ends our club activity for today.” Sonoko mumbled.

“You got away this time, Kudo-kun! You owe us an explanation next week, okay?” Akako exclaimed loudly to the figures walking past her.

Shinichi shrugged, rolled his eyes, and left the room together with the other two guys.

-o-

After she bade farewell to Sonoko and the two girls, Ran walked home alone, lost in thought. She still couldn't make sense of what just occurred, for it all happened so fast. She was introduced to new people, met and interacted with her crush again, and had her heart break just a little for confirming that he already liked someone else. A guy or a girl, she didn't really care. All that stuck with her was the fact that during that time she might have hoped for a slim chance on him, only for that hope to be completely flushed down the drain.

Sigh. Life goes on, she thought, cheering herself up.

Not long after, she was already in front of her apartment.

“I’m home.”

Ran opened the door to the detective agency and was disappointed to see her father, with two beer cans on his working desk, watching a horse game live on television. He had been drinking again and it wasn’t even night yet.

“Geez! What will you do if a client steps in and sees you like this, otou-san?” She rambled, hands on her hips. But Kogoro didn’t seem to pay much attention as he was intently concentrating on that horse race while clutching on his race tickets tightly.

Seeing that it was no use reprimanding her inebriated father, she turned around and decided to go upstairs in order to prepare supper.

She was stopped by her drunk father scoffing behind her.

“Ran! Before you *hic* go upstairs can you please take your *hic* phone with you? It’s being annoying and disrupting me from the *hic* h-horse race!”

Surprised, she checked her uniform pockets and realized too late that she actually didn’t bring her phone to school today. She probably placed it on the center table of the agency when she took the trash out this morning and forgot to get it again before she left.

She rushed to the table and grabbed it before closing the door and ascending the stairs. Several notifications popped up on her home screen when she opened her phone, with unread messages from her dad and Sonoko. There were also a missed call from the laundry shop across the street. She could’ve stopped there and closed her phone again, but there were still unchecked notifications in her call history. She clicked on it.

Two (2) missed calls.

Kudo Shinichi - Cancelled call 16:30 Kudo Shinichi - Cancelled call 16:32 Kudo Shinichi - Incoming call 16:35 10 seconds.

Eyes widened like saucers, brain lagging for a considerable amount of time.

Kudo…Shinichi… called me?

She rushed to her room, closed the door, leaned against it and stilled her heart, allowing herself to process the name appearing on her cellphone screen. The number of ideas popping in her mind all at once was overwhelming her, and all those musings directed to a certain incredible realization – a realization she wanted so much to be true.

Just in case her eyes deceived her, she double checked the caller. She had already forgotten that she had saved his number, but this was still back in middle school. And now once again his name was right before her very eyes. For the many times she hit back and clicked her call history, the name didn’t disappear, confirming that this was the real deal.

Not that she was jumping into any ridiculous conclusion, but if she remembered correctly, Shinichi did call his crush thrice. The first two were a miss, and the last one, the recipient hang up. She remembered the recipient being a male.

Is it possible that the recipient who hang up was actually… Ran’s dad?

So does that mean that the person Shinichi meant to call…was her?

The call Shinichi made in school? At around 4pm? While they were playing that game? A call that was meant for his crush?

A call that was meant for her?

Mouth still agape, she covered it with her free hand but her eyes remained shocked. This has got to be just a coincidence. She clutched her phone with her other hand tightly, and without even realizing it, she accidentally clicked his name and the phone automatically dialed his number.

Before she could even react, the call had connected. Her phone was now ringing.

Crap.

Panic hit her like a speeding train but she had to pull herself together fast because after four rings a voice spoke on the other line.

“Hello?”

Her throat clenched upon hearing a handsome voice. Certainly, she couldn’t mistake that timbre for someone else.

“…Shinichi-san?”

A momentary pause, then the person on the other line dispelled air before speaking, in a much lower voice this time.

“Yes. And this is Ran-san, right? So you finally have your phone.”

Finally, implying that he somehow knew her phone wasn’t with her earlier.

She nodded her head, pretty stupidly in fact, because it wasn’t like he’d see that.

“You… c-called my phone?” She feebly asked.

“Yes, I did. A while ago.”

“Are you sure you called the right number?”

There was once again a short pause before he answered. She wasn’t sure but with his breathing patterns she thought she could hear him smile.

“Yes, I’m sure now. You witnessed me call, right? In school.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

Wait.

Just. Wait.

Don’t tell me—?

“T-that’s ridiculous.”

“I’m sorry?” he spoke.

“That’s ridiculous! I mean, b-because… that means I’m-… I – Y-you have a… on me…”

The way she struggled to find the right words must have sounded so funny in the phone that the only response of the voice was to heave a light chuckle. She felt a bit awkward. Ran could definitely picture his expression at the other end of the line – probably a smirk that could make her so embarrassed but at the same time let her swoon for ages.

“Yes, I do.”

That short statement. He said it too confidently, too certainly, with the same amount of conviction she had heard from him a long while back.

No matter how hard she tried to speak, no words came out. She couldn’t even close her mouth. She just leaned there against the door, heart accelerating twice as fast as normal, her breathing clipped and producing short croaks that sounded like she was choking.

This time, it was he who tried to decipher her facial expressions. He could almost make sense of her disbelief through the silence in between them, the sound of nothing but static and her irregular breaths.

“Ran-san?”

No response. Feeling that the silence might probably take forever, he decided to speak again.

“You don’t have to say anything back, it’s okay. I hope I didn’t freak you out. I just want you to know, because it’s true. Up ‘til now I’m still thankful for that middle school project because through it I was able to meet and know you. I’m happy you still remembered that.”

Someone pinch her. He remembered!

“I—”

If only his friends didn’t arrive sooner, he would’ve stayed on the line longer.

“I’m sorry, I have to go, Ran-san. I hope to talk to you again soon!” Then he hang up.

Ran stood still, immovable, frozen like a statue, except that she wasn’t cold like marble. Warmth enveloped her whole senses, the source of warmth coming from her heart which she believed had just exploded. The only thing keeping her from thinking that this was a dream was this soothing warmth spreading on her cheeks and hands like fire. She felt her chest tighten.

That phone call really just happened. And there Shinichi manifested that he liked her.

He. Kudo Shinichi. Likes her. Mouri Ran.

The person she liked – no – likes, likes her back.

The next thing she knew, she had already slumped in her own bed, marveling again and again at that one name on her cell phone screen, unable to contain the giddiness she was feeling.

For sure, it would take a week or more before that smile disappeared from her face.

-o-

“Kudo! Who was that?”

Shinichi closed his phone quickly before Heiji and Hakuba, who had just stepped out from the police department, could see the caller’s name on the screen.

“Just – a call I had to attend to. None of your business.” He answered coolly before descending the front steps of the building.

His two friends looked at each other quizzically, then back at him. Expecting their pestering, Shinichi quickened his walk way ahead of them, not attempting to look back.

“Lemme guess, did your guy crush regret that he slammed the phone at THE Kudo Shinichi and called ya back to apologize?” Heiji shouted from behind him.

“Or maybe, it was Kudo-san who tried to call the guy again. He couldn’t move on from the fact that the guy ended the call so now he’s pretending he wasn’t affected.” Hakuba surmised. It was loud enough for Shinichi to hear, and because of that the latter had to face the two ungratefully but he didn’t stop walking. Through his narrowed eyes, he wanted to show to the two that he wasn’t laughing and make them understand that they were being pathetic friends.

“Idiots. Anyway I’m going home.” He walked ahead and waved his hand lazily, leaving the two behind.

The two guys stood there and watched him disappear from sight.

“Oy Hakuba. Are ya thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That our friend is gay and in love? Yes.”

But had they paid more attention to his face as he walked away, they would’ve seen that unique radiance in his eyes and that crimson shade on his cheeks. Those should’ve been noticeable because he had never worn that expression before.

And had they pressed him on further, they would’ve discovered about that short message he had just received. A message that easily caused him to curve his lips into a huge smile and made him thank the heavens for being more alive than ever.

From: Mouri Ran Subject: Thank you.

I’m happy you remembered it too, Shinichi-san. I thought it was just me. And now I’ll have something new to remember again. Thank you for making the calls.

-Ran

P.S. I like you too.

#dcmk #fanfic #shinran #detective conan #kudo shinichi #mouri ran #fluff #uggghhhhhh i still struggle sometimes huhu #but i love my bbs so much i want them to be happy

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ask-de-writer · 4 years

Text

LOST TIME (part 1 of 3) A fantasy of Flocking Bay.

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

LOST TIME

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5556 words

written 2003

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

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It stands out even in the dark ... It shouldn’t. It’s just a house. A damned old house. Not even that old really, not for New England. It’s a two story salt-box style with an observation deck under a cupola at the peak. It is probably just the setting. Rusty old iron fence, gnarled elderly trees, unkempt lawn not quite out of control, windows that the neighborhood kids haven’t broken. It should be a witch’s house but it isn’t. It is mine. I just closed on it yesterday.

The kids are going to have a field day this time. I don’t like the daylight... been on night shift as far back as I can remember. That’s a longish way back. But I’m not a witch, nor vampire. Nothing exotic that I know of. I’m just one of those people (you probably know one or two) who don’t show their age. If you envy me, think again. YOU try to explain to a traffic cop why your ID has you pegged for seventy+ and you don’t look over twenty. I carry a copy of my fingerprint record from the military, because they can check that.

Funny part of it is, I really don’t have the slightest idea how old I am. Traumatic amnesia the doctors called it, during the war. The head wound was minor, they said.

That is a matter of opinion. It robbed me of my past, my name, my identity, my loves and hates but left my skills intact. I was an empty shell. I am still trying to find my past.

The name that I use comes from more or less modern myth. Vandervekken. The Flying Dutchman. Wandering Dutchman would be more accurate. He sails the seas off the Cape of Good Hope until Judgment Day. He can’t find his home either. I bought the house because it is the first place that I have seen in over fifty years where I want to stay. You explain it.

The rusty gate opened silently, thanks to the bit of oil that I put on the hinges. Going up the uneven walk, between the looming trees is an experience. The door lock is old-fashioned but still works smoothly. Covered furniture could have made ghosts to haunt the place, if I were superstitious or given to being easily frightened.

As I said, I like the night. I even enjoy things with a bit of a spooky atmosphere. I also like antiques and handcrafted things which is why, if I ever find out who did it, I will cheerfully throttle whatever philistine covered the finely inlaid hardwood parquetry floors with battleship gray paint.

Stripping and refinishing those floors was on my priority job list. Actually, I shouldn’t beef too much. Pointing out the problem got me a price reduction of nearly $2000 on an already underpriced house with all of its furniture as part of the deal. Estates can be wonderful when you are on a tight budget. Too bad that someone else had to die to create my good fortune.

As I pulled the dust covers from the furniture, I saw that my good fortune was been complete. It was all sturdy, hand-carved hardwood with Chinese silk brocade upholstery. The furniture alone was worth what I had paid for the house and contents. The tops of even the smallest hall tables were inlaid with rich veneers, ivory and mother of pearl. You couldn’t buy furniture like this any more. Besides the cost, the ivory in the inlays is no longer legal to obtain. I could get as much from the sale of just one or two pieces as I could from a year of writing if I could bring myself to part with any of this treasure. It just feels like the house would not be complete without it.

Whoever it was that had died and left this for me to have has whatever blessings it is in my power to bestow. The only wonder is that this place stayed on the market long enough for me to find it. Usually, deals like this get snapped up by the real-estate brokers before people like me ever see them.

When I got to the kitchen, I received another little jolt. I knew that it was fairly up to date, but some thoughtful soul had stocked the fridge and set out a bit of a snack for me. Just cookies and a glass for the milk, which was staying cold in the cooler. Thoughtful. I wondered who did it.

While munching on the cookies, I opened a few windows to air the place out a bit. Going out to my car, I saw that the flags of the walk needed leveling because of the weeds that grew up between them. I drove around to the alley behind the place, opened the garage and parked Lilitu, my classic pre-war Packard touring car. She looked right at home in there. Few, even of modern garages were big enough for her. I ferried my few personal goods up to the house. On my last trip, I saw a couple of wide-eyed kids looking over the back fence.

“Told ya, told ya so!” one of them chanted. “There’s somebody sneakin’ inta the ol’ Vekin place!”

“I wouldn’t call it sneaking, to move into your own place,” I answered as civilly as I could manage. “I just bought it. Why do you call it the Vekin place?”

“If ya ain’t sneakin’, why ya goin’ in the back way? An’ after dark, too?” she shot back. I could now see that they were a girl and a boy. She was obviously in charge.

“I like nights. I’m a writer, so I can keep any hours I like. Why is it the Vekin place?” I asked again.

“Dun’no - Crazy guy named Vekin used to live there,” she contradicted herself.

“Lot of folks tried to buy the place since then,” the boy piped in.

“But nobody ever stays,” the girl finished for him firmly.

“So, this is the neighborhood’s haunted house?” I inquired jovially.

“No,” was as far as the boy got.

“Its down the street, on t’other side,” she cut in.

“I looked at that one,” I said thoughtfully. “The old Victorian. Somebody’s broken out all the windows. Not like here. If the Vekin house is so bad, why hasn’t some kid chucked rocks at it?”

“‘Cause we’re not THAT crazy!” exclaimed The boy, getting out a whole thought. The girl gave him a push, and they ran off into the night.

I got up about noon, after the most restful night’s sleep that I’d had since the War. After my breakfast and a quiet tour of the place from attic to basement, I went out. My goal was the local newspaper. THE FLOCKING BAY VOICE was sprawled across the plate glass window in Old English style letters of gold leaf and black. Smaller letters proclaimed Est. 1841. I pushed open the door. My nose was assaulted by the multiple odors of printer’s ink, paper and grease. The VOICE occupied one large room. An elderly web press crouched at the back of the space, behind several rolls of newsprint. Cubicles made offices in the middle of the room. An old oak counter that had once seen duty as a bar had several signs suspended over it on thin chains. They read ‘submissions’, ‘advertisements’, ‘subscriptions’, ‘billing’.

There was a bell on the counter. Some wag had put a sign on it, “Please ring bell, it won’t help but it will give you something to do.” I gave myself something to do, energetically, a few times.

A trim little blond lady answered the bell’s summons. She wore a green eyeshade and a pin on her sweater announced, ‘Lois Martin - cook, bottle washer & EDITOR in CHIEF.’ “What can I do for you, today?” she asked.

“I came to see what I can find out about the Vekin place,” I answered, trying not to stare at her.

“Just a moment, I’ll get the file out of the morgue. I was going to get it anyway. Somebody went and bought the place again.”

“Wait a minute,” I protested. “Someone buys a house and that makes news in Flocking Bay? This town must be even quieter than it looks.”

“Oh,” she retorted, “it can get downright interesting around here when the old Vekin place sells. You’ll see.” She disappeared among the cubicles and I heard her feet clattering down a flight of stairs. I heard a file drawer creak and slide, then slam shut. It wasn’t long before she reappeared, a rather fat file clutched in her hand.

“If you’d like, we can have lunch over at Mike’s Soda Shop,” she proposed. “He makes decent submarine sandwiches and real ice-cream sodas.”

“Well ... ” I pretended to hesitate, “I haven’t been invited out by a beautiful blond in a long time, so, yes.”

“I hope that I haven’t just made a fool of myself,” she remarked, laying aside the eyeshade. “You are Mr. Vandervekken aren’t you? The man who just bought the place?”

“Too true,” I said.

“Then I’ll make it an interview and deduct it from my taxes,” she smiled.

“You make enough to pay taxes?” I asked, looking back as we crossed the street.

“I have hidden assets. The paper is a tax shelter.” She opened the door of Mike’s and ushered me in.

As I was seating her, I just couldn’t help blurting out, “Your assets seem to be pretty obvious.”

She grinned, “Go ahead and stare. I don’t mind. If I did, I wouldn’t wear a snug sweater and put my pin just here.” She pointed, then added, “Looking at it will keep you off your guard while I ask my questions.”

“OK, Ms. Martin, but let me look at the file first. You can order for me. You know the food here,” I said, reaching for the file.

“Lois,” she replied, “call me Lois, everyone else does.” Then she hollered to the man behind the counter, “Oh, Mike! Two butterscotch sodas and a big turkey sub! Divide it in half!”

“How did you know that I liked butterscotch?” I asked. “It’s not that common a preference these days.”

“I just had a hunch, that’s all. You looked like another butterscotch type person.”

I was leafing through the file on the rather beat-up table while we waited. I couldn’t resist snorting with amusement at the name of the house’s builder. Capt. Von Der Vekin. The house had been built in 1894 by the Capt. and his elusive son, Charles. Nobody had ever seen Charles until he came into town, on April 1st, 1900, to report his father’s demise and burial on the property. He ordered a headstone hewn of the local limestone. Charles had returned from WW I with honors and lived quietly, claiming to be a writer, though nobody ever saw any of his work in print. When asked, all that he would say was ‘Pseudonyms are great for privacy’. He was not so lucky when he volunteered to assist the French resistance in 1939. He never came home.

Next==>

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#LOST TIME #Part 1 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

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