#Had the idea of a Golden Saint posing like this for a few days now

[skaaaafin]

Pose practice doodle with a Golden Saint.

#Had the idea of a Golden Saint posing like this for a few days now #Had to get it out my system #TES #TESblr #Elder Scrolls #The Elder Scrolls #Elder Scrolls Oblivion #Oblivion #TES Oblivion #Daedra #Aureal #Golden Saint

[whatiwillsay]

off topic - let’s talk about gaylena 👀

selena gomez is one of taylor’s oldest and bestest friends and given that she is in the 22 liner notes, a huge part of taylor’s life, and maybe fruity herself it seems like possibly we don’t talk about her here at the blog enough!

i don’t want to do a timeline of selena and taylor’s friendship - you can read more about that here, but they met back in the day when they were both dating jonas brothers and to me this idea of finding a real friendship in the midst of these contrived promances is pretty adorable.

ofc most of y’all think taylor is a fruit basket but i think there’s a good chance that selena is too!  i’m not saying she is for sure but y’all know me.  i’’m here to make a compelling case that everyone and their dog is gay so let’s gooooo! 

Part I - At least one fake rs!  

Selena “dated” Taylor Lautner in 2009 and he’s definitely gay.  Of course, that doesn’t mean she is, it could just be PR, but y’all know I gotta note everything!  We stan our fruity bffs dating the same gays 😍

Part II - Selena x cara delevingne

i feel like there’s a chance they met through taylor but everyone in that squad adjacent circle knows one another.  cara dated michelle rodriguez for the first half of 2014 and then got with annie clark in March 2015 but it feels like it’s possible something has gone on between her and Selena from summer 2014 - early 2015? ...maybe something casual on and off a bit?

August 2014 - Steamy pics surface in Saint-Tropez, France

Selena and and a freshly single Cara vacation together in part to celebrate Selena’s 22nd birthday.

They party together and look cozy!

Pictures such as this surface and spark rumors around the two:

Selena apparently loves the rumors and gushes about being shipped with Cara.

Quote:

You say Selena drag queens were the true measure of success for you. But isn’t it true that you’re not truly famous until you’ve been the subject of a gay rumor? And last year, the tabloids had a field day with photos of you and Cara Delevingne. I’ve made it!

How did you react to those rumors? Honestly, I loved it. I didn’t mind it. Especially because they weren’t talking about other people in my life for once, which was wonderful. Honestly, though, she’s incredible and very open and she just makes me open. She’s so fun and she’s just extremely adventurous, and sometimes I just want that in my life, so I didn’t mind it. I loved it.

Notice she doesn’t deny them?  Now of course she could just be being cool, if she freaked out about it that might be even weirder but hey, it’s still kind of interesting.

Then she admits to questioning her sexuality???

Have you ever questioned your sexuality? Oh, I think everybody does, no matter who they are. I do, yeah, of course. Absolutely. I think it’s healthy to gain a perspective on who you are deep down, question yourself and challenge yourself; it’s important to do that.

(Selena btw, this is cool and all, but not everybody questions their sexuality, maybe you’re just gay 👀)

November 1 - LACMA Art + Film Gala 

they even left the event together 👀

and they hung out earlier that day as well:

They were seen the next day partying for Kendall Jenner’s bday singing to her:

a few weeks later Cara tweets Selena’s lyrics!

In December 2014 they are travelling together in texas:

in january 2015 they get cozy at the golden globes together!

and they leave together again:

January 19th/20th a bunch of gay nonsense happens

They post this gay shit with matching shoes and linked fingers:

then they say this to one another:

Enty says they were hooking up!

then we don’t get any more content that i can find for about six months! perhaps they had a fling from summer 2014-jan 2015 and then it ends, Cara gets with Annie in March?  Then after half a year apart Selena and Cara resume a friendly relationship?  Perhaps!  Selena is seen with Justin a bit off and on during this time but this was in their Style/Heat Death Era imo (tbh i probably shouldn’t give a hetty pairing including Justin that designation 🤢but y’all get what I’m saying - it’s fully possible Selena was hooking up with both of them!

Now I’m not super familiar with Selena’s discography so y’all lmk if I’m missing anything major - lyric wise that point to her not being straight.

Selena’s album Revival that comes out after this relationship has a few songs with some vibes, even though I get the feeling a lot of it is probably about Justin, allow me to reach.  The title track could be translated as someone coming to terms with their sexuality (among other things):

I feel like I've awakened lately The chains around me are finally breaking I've been under self-restoration I've become my own salvation Showing up, no more hiding, hiding The light inside me is bursting, shining It's my, my, my time to butterfly

Good for you, imo, is too sexy to be about a man even if it’s not super queer lyrically it’s a vibe ok?

Me & My Girls might be a bestie anthem a la 22 (oh wait, no 22 was gay too) but I mean...could be about a girl gang of lesbians too!

And if we want it, we take it If we need money, we make it Nobody knows if we fake it You like to watch while we shake it I know we're making you thirsty You want us all in the worst way But you don't understand I don't need a man 

Quinn Fabray indeed!

Nobody feels probably like a retrospective on Justin 🙄but...there is a hint of sapphic craving in there!  Saying this particular lover loves them differently than everyone is a bit 👀 plus this stanza:

No oxygen, can barely breathe My darkest sin, you've raised release And it's all because of you, all because of you And I don't know what it is, but you've pulled me in No one compares, could ever begin To love me like you do And I wouldn't want them to

Is Perfect about some bitch Justin started dating?  Probably but bear with me here this song is actually pretty fucking gay.  Gay enough that I’m gonna add it to one of my gay playlists.  Could this song actually be about Cara moving on to Annie?

Ooh, and I bet she has it all Bet she's beautiful like you, like you And I bet she's got that touch Makes you fall in love, like you, like you

I can taste her lipstick and see her laying across your chest I can feel the distance every time you remember her fingertips Maybe I should be more like her Maybe I should be more like her I can taste her lipstick, it's like I'm kissing her, too And she's perfect And she's perfect

Part III - Selena x Julia Michaels

Julia Michaels is a singer/songwriter known for her song Issues.  I don’t know her sexuality but she at the least has gay vibes!  It seems they met around this time perhaps because Julia wrote on Revival.

They have a friendly enough friendship for a few years, liking one another’s posts on IG from time to time, posing for a photo a time or two and then they seem to get swept up into this very intense friendship in 2019.  They write some music together and Julia goes whole hog in promoting the shoe brand Selena is hawking this time 😭

2019 - The Superior Sapphic Jelena Timeline:

It starts, for some reason with a lot of shoe promotion:

chill, chill

more shoes

but more gayness?

this homo shit

ok...

Then we go into the REALLY GAY NOVEMBER OF 2019:

Then they perform together:

And...actually kiss...on the mouth on stage???

Sure it’s just a peck but still...if that were a guy people would say they were dating.  

Somehow kissing on the mouth isn’t the gayest thing these girls do over this period because these fucking dykes got matching tattoos.  I’ve read enough Larry blogs to know this actually means they’re secretly married.  All jokes aside this is fruity behavior. 

From their IG stories:

Selena gets Julia a very nice christmas gift:

Covid sets in and content drops off but god damn!  It’s possible they just had an intense friendship but if a man and a woman collabed on music together, kissed in public, and got matching tattoos everyone would say they were dating!

Selena, as far as I can find, didn’t have any public boyfriends around this time so who are some of these love songs about?

Rare comes out in January 2020 and perhaps has some gayish songs?

Don’t tell me why but boyfriend lowkey, has a gay vibe.  Don’t ask me to explain it but it’s just the musicality of it.

Crowded Room could be a love song for Julia?  (or by Julia for Selena, since they’re collaborators?)

Baby, it's just me and you Baby, it's just me and you Just us two Even in a crowded room Baby, it's just me and you, yeah

These are general gay vibes, our secret moments in a crowded room tease

It started polite, out on thin ice 'Til you came over to break it I threw you a line and you were mine

It would have started out polite between them, since they worked together for years before whatever 2019 was happened.  And throwing someone a line first of all makes Selena sound like the aggressor but also “throwing someone a line” could be a reference to writing songs together.

Yeah, I was afraid, but you made it safe I guess that is our combination Said you feel lost, well, so do I So won't you call me in the morning? I think that you should call me in the morning If you feel the same, 'cause

Lots of people are afraid at the beginning of a gay rs.  Treacherous tease 👀

In summation!

Selena does gay stuff like fantasizing ab kissing other women in her music, getting very touchy with famous dykes on vacay, hangs out with Taylor Swift, has chronic mental health issues, dated a jonas brother and a twilight gay, has admitted to questioning her sexuality, and loves being shipped with women.  Is she gay?  I don’t know!   But all she’s missing from her celesbian bingo card is a suspiciously intense friendship with a Glee Cast member! What do you guys think?  Selena fruity or just weird?

Edit to add: so apparently I missed an entire ship and Selena supposedly acted really gay all the time with her backup dancer Charity Baroni.  Exposing SMG has posted a lot about all that.

Also Selena has been cast in a gay role! edit to add: @bisluthq went and found this for me - julia is indeed a fruit queen

#selena gomez #gaylena #taylena #gossip #cara delevingne #julia michaels #lesbian #sapphic #of interest #taylor's fruity friends

[megalony]

Oops

This is a small murderer! Ben Hardy imagine I had an idea for, I hope you will all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid​ @jennyggggrrr​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​ @luckytrashgooprebel​ @scarsout​ @deaky-with-a-c​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez​ @jonesyaddiction​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​ @saint-hardy​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​ @mrsalwayswritex​ @rogerina-owns-me​ @peterquillzsblog​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @crazylittlethingg​

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben is taken to hospital just before he is meant to go to prison and (Y/n) is the doctor assigned to treat him. But it’s not as easy as she hopes when her patient scares her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With each clicking of her shoes against the polished tiled floor, she could feel her heart adding an extra beat of blood around her body until she was certain that the organ was about ready to give out. She could feel her heartbeat becoming louder in her chest making every beat feel like it was pulsing through her ribcage and echoing against her lungs. A cold sweat started to rattle through her as she got closer to the door she didn't really know if she wanted to go through or not.

The moment she reached the door her body was subtally shaking which she was sure the security guards must have noticed when she took her ID badge from her waist to flash in front of their eyes. It was her golden ticket to get her inside a room that was limited to who could see what it held within.

Her imagination didn't do him justice.

When (Y/n) tried to remember the last time she had seen the man who was in this room, her memory was hazy. She remembered long ash blond curls that swept everywhere on his head. She pictured dark coloured eyes that were like voids with no emotion, she could see thin lips that stayed straight or held a frown but no smile. She could see hardened, cold features that were not flattering and a medium sized build. What she was faced with was much different to her memory that had been helped out with her imagination.

The man laid in the bed was taller than she remembered, to the point his head and feet were almost touching the ends of the bed. He had a very broad muscular frame that made him more of a threat to everyone who stepped into this room. His eyes were the deepest shade of sea-green that (Y/n) had ever seen, they were like gems, but his pupils were what scared her. The darkness was swirling inside of them and they held no sparkles from the light, they were filled with so many bad emotions that looked so inviting yet frightening that it made (Y/n) cower.

His lips were bright ruby red but they were crooked into the most sinister grin that (Y/n) had ever come across in her life. His eyes were slightly narrowed but they were solely stuck on her frame as her own eyes darted around him, forming a lasting image in her mind. His light blond hair was longer on top but shaved very short at the sides and it was folded back over his head so none of it would fall in front of his eyes and distort his vision of her.

What caught (Y/n)'s attention more than his features was his wrists and his ankles. They were handcuffed to the plastic frame of the bed, locking him in a sitting position so he didn't hold the right to raise his hands an inch above the bed, nor could be kick his feet out at anyone. Those restraints caught (Y/n)'s eye for the specific reason that she didn't trust them. This man had muscle, he clearly held strength and his eyes showed he was cunning, just how long were those shackles going to restrain him before he managed to break free?

"Here to help me, sweetheart?" His voice was low and gravelly like his words were rubbing against sandpaper, but his pet name that she remembered so vividly made her cringe.

"Only to make you better, Mr Hardy." (Y/n) kept her voice level and looked down at her notes as she spoke like she thought looking him in the eyes would put her under a trance. She was a doctor, all she was here to do was to find out what was causing his health to decline and then he would be on his way to prison just like he was supposed to be.

Ben was in the hospital because he had a seizure and crippling pains a day before he was supposed to be taken to prison. A lot of doctors here thought he was just playing things up so he could try his luck at escaping but (Y/n) didn't think so. She vaguely knew him and what she remembered about Ben was how he liked to work. He wouldn't want to escape by faking a seizure and he wouldn't want to go to hospital for unnecessary tests to try and make his escape.

He would want to bribe or kill the guard, he would want to break out on his own in the dead of night and get ahead of the game. He would want people to marvel at his twisted mind and his quick getaways.

"Better how? Are you going to try and see if there's something making me ill, or are you going to try and make me better in my head?" When he spoke he flashed his teeth and the look reminded (Y/n) of a shark or a predator eyeing up its prey. He looked ready to devour her or frighten her to the point she either left or let him go free.

(Y/n) knew who Ben was, but the man laying in front of her now was different to the one she had known a few years ago. The man she remembered hadn't been a killer, but he had definitely been heading in that direction. She had read more about him in the news, he seemed to be rather good at killing people considering how long it had taken the police to even get one small crime connected to him with enough evidence to charge him and send him to prison.

He had been killing people and doing dodgy dealings for at least five years with no consequence because he knew how to evade the police and rid himself of any evidence. He did intrigue her, a lot, but she wasn't a psychiatrist. (Y/n) couldn't delve into his mind and find out what made him this way, she would get trapped and never be able to find her way out.

But that seemed to be what Ben wanted.

He loved the thought of people trying to get into his head because he had the ability to trap them without giving them the answers they were looking for. He didn't think there was any reason he was like this, he had a good upbringing, a loving family, a good education. No traumas or accidents happened to him to make him suddenly take to murder, he wasn't damaged or broken or unhinged, this was just how he was and what he liked to do.

"I'm just here to find out what's causing your health problems, nothing more." When (Y/n) lifted her eyes from the notes on Ben's case, she found he was still grinning at her like the Cheshire cat and it was beginning to feel unsettling. No one looked at her the way he was looking at her now, it was like he knew something about her and he was goading her and holding the information over her head like bait. Willing her to take it.

"And you can do that with me cuffed to the bed, or is that how you like all your patients?" Ben tilted his head up to look at (Y/n) when she dared to move closer until she was standing beside the bed instead of at the foot of it. Her eyes locked with his own for a brief moment but she didn't respond, he was only trying to get a rise out of her. "Come on doll, undo them for me. Where am I going to go with ten guards on this floor? I don't wanna run away from a pretty face either."

(Y/n) pursed her lips as she tilted her head to the side, she wasn't stupid and she wasn't born yesterday. Whether Ben really just wanted to sit without being shackled at the joints or whether he wanted to escape made no difference to (Y/n). She didn't have the keys to unlock the cuffs and she wouldn't do that anyway. They didn't pose a problem unless they had to do an MRI but even then, the hospital had other ways of restraining him so that he didn't try and make a break for it.

"I'd love to, but I don't have the keys."

Grabbing a small light from her pocket, (Y/n) cautiously rested her hand on Ben's temple and tilted his head back. Holding his eyelid open with her thumb as she used her other hand to shine the light over his pupils to see if they were constricting quickly or not.

"Any headaches or pains anywhere?"

"Why do you think the lights are turned off?" Ben watched with a smile as (Y/n) seemed to blink like she was clearing her mind of fog, turning her head to look up at the lights before looking around the room to find that it was significantly darker than the corridor. The natural light from the window provided more than enough lighting to see but it wasn't nearly as bright as what the room would be if basked in the illuminated lights.

"I'll schedule an MRI, see if there's anything wrong with your head." (Y/n) held onto the plastic frame of the bed as she looked at Ben who was still smiling which was beginning to make her feel unsettled. There was no reason for him to be grinning, there was something wrong with him and he was going to prison when they treated whatever was wrong, he had no reason to smile.

"That's what they all say... your little bodyguards will have to uncuff me for that. We can finally have some fun."

Ben's words sent shivers running down (Y/n)'s spine and made her stomach churn like she was going to be sick. His tone showed he wasn't messing around or just blabbering, he was thinking about this and he was excited at the prospect of finding a chance to escape. Restraints like buckles around his body would be a bit easier to get out of than handcuffs. But when he spoke about having fun, his eyes glimmered for the first time and showed sparkles without any light in the room.

He was making her a promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you scared?" The question came with a tone of sincerity and worry but the catfish grin that it was spoken through said otherwise. The way those words made his cheeks puff up near his eyes that were narrowing and inquisitive made shivers run down (Y/n)'s spine when she was already trying so hard not to shake from fear.

"Why would I be scared?" (Y/n) tipped her head to the side as she responded to his rather sudden question that seemingly came out of nowhere. (Y/n) was trying very hard to seem and act normal, she didn't want Ben to think she feared him but she didn't want to be cold towards him either. He was her patient and it was better to keep him talking and stay on his good side rather than dare to see what the bad side looked like.

"Because the artery in your neck is pulsing faster than normal... you keep looking at the straps which we both know aren't such a good restraint for me."

Ben's eyes were solely focused on the artery he could clearly see pushing up beneath the surface at such a rapid pace that it looked like it was going to burst. It implied that (Y/n)'s heartbeat was increasing and he could see how hard she was trying to keep her breathing normal. He couldn't have cuffs on because the MRI machine worked with magnets, but the straps binding him down were worn and looked like Velcro that he would be able to tear free from without breaking into a sweat. They both knew that Ben was devious and dangerous and (Y/n) didn't want to see him get free or know what he would do to break free.

"We both know if you manage to get up you're hardly going anywhere with a gown that barely covers your ass and no boxers on underneath. Besides, with no weapon, how do you expect to get out of this room?" (Y/n) adjusted the brace beneath Ben's head so it was fixed around his neck and head to give support whilst he would be in the machine for about forty five minutes.

Ben looked surprised at her answer but his smile didn't slip from his features because she had given him something to think about. He was wearing a gown that tied at the back and he didn't have underwear on, he was hardly going to be able to get out of the hospital wearing that. Nor did he have weapons to get himself out of this room, let alone the hospital. Security had guns and tasers and there was a lot of security who could pin him down and a doctor could sedate him. Ben was outnumbered here.

"Try not to move."

(Y/n) didn't like the wicked grin Ben wore when (Y/n) pressed the button that moved him into the MRI machine. He looked like he was one step ahead of her and always would be.

Half an hour had passed but (Y/n) felt like she was going to be sick because he just would not stop. His lips kept moving and words and phrases kept passing from them but they were rattling around in her mind and rubbing (Y/n) up the wrong way. Worse still, Ben knew what he was doing. The more he talked about what he did, the more (Y/n) felt like she could picture clearly what he had done and who he was. She felt sick when he described how he killed people and how he made sure no one found out. She felt shivers running up and down her nerves when he kept calling out to her. Random nicknames drawled sweetly or seductively or creepily from his lips to try and gain her attention or some sort of rise from (Y/n).

But even though Ben couldn't see her and she was staying deadly silent, Ben knew he was having a bad effect on her and it was making him carry on.

Lifting her head from where it was lowered down to look at the screen, (Y/n) felt a wave of both panic and relief flowing through her when the voice suddenly stopped. Ben was no longer trying to call out to her and ask if she was still there or rambling on to her about whatever dreadful thing spilled into his rotten mind.

Deciding that the scan was done now since it was showing nothing irregular, (Y/n) got up from her chair and entered the MRI room in front of her, Ben's name drawling quietly from her lips but he didn't respond.

Pushing the button, (Y/n) looked at Ben with tired eyes but he still had that same shit-eating grin on his face that she wished to become tired of seeing. She went to say something, but before any words could pass through her lips, her body jolted and her heart stopped in her chest when his hand suddenly latched around her wrist with a viper's grip. His fingers felt like sharp teeth digging into her skin and he held so much force because when he pulled her closer to the point (Y/n) almost fell on top of him, it didn't seem to take any energy from him at all.

"Ben, let go." (Y/n) spoke in a stern tone as her other hand quickly grabbed his own to try and release herself from his grip but it wasn't working. He had more strength than she did, she could already feel the bruises beginning to form on her skin.

"Come on doll, be a good girl and let me out, you know you want to."

(Y/n) shook her head and tried again to pull away but she stopped and her eyes snapped closed when Ben leaned his head closer to her to the point she could feel his breath on her neck. She couldn't let him free from his restraints, he could use her as a hostage to try and get out or he could kill people to get himself free. He was here for a reason and he was bound for a reason, (Y/n) couldn't let him out just because he asked or because he was trying to seduce her.

"I can't, now let go before I call security."

Fear rushed through (Y/n)'s veins along with adrenaline, but she wasn't fearing what Ben was doing or what he was capable of, she was afraid what effect he was having on her because her voice was lost. She couldn't find her voice to call out to the security men that were only on the other side of the door. She stayed deadly quiet when she felt Ben's grip on her wrist tightening and his teeth grazing against her neck.

The moment his mouth left her neck and she could pull back and straighten up, (Y/n) felt like she was going to faint and the urge to pass out only increased when all the blood drained from her head. But her moment of relief lasted two seconds before she looked down at Ben's wrist agonisingly slowly and a whimper left her lips when she realised his hands were now free from the restraints.

Every part of her froze and turned stiff as she watched him sit up with a shit-eating grin on his lips and the void in his eyes that drew her in until she became lost. When his eyes darted down to look at the restraints, he rose a brow and tipped his head to the side in an almost innocent manner.

"Oops."

#ben hardy #ben x reader #ben hardy imagine #imagine #BoRhap #murderer! ben

[sandershospitalau]

The Nurse’s Rally

Chapter 1

Archive Of Our Own

————————

It was the perfect day for a protest. Not by Virgil's standards, of course. He would have preferred a cloudy day, dark enough to shade the large crowd gathering just outside Sanders Hospital. Instead, he got a blistering sunny day that made the colors bleed and blend into his eyes. And everyone would have to see the horrific t-shirts Roman had designed to support the Rally.

All the nurses going with Virgil on their parade through Miami wore the t-shirt. At least it was purple, to match the color of the nurse’s scrubs. But the design made Virgil want to burn the shirt. Roman, with a bit of technical know-how from Logan, created a thin, gangly cartoon nurse giving the world a thumbs-up beside the phrase ‘Funding for Florida’s Nurses’. Virgil knew it was a cartoon version of himself, even though it lacked some of his distinctive features, like his dyed hair and the permanent bags under his eyes. But the nurse, dressed in classic blue scrubs, looked exactly like Virgil if he gave up on being an individual. He couldn’t even hide the shirt with his hoodie, since Thomas and Joan insisted that Virgil look semi-professional.

So there he stood at the edge of the street near the front of Sanders Hospital in a caricature t-shirt and clean jeans, chewing his lower lip as he checked over the march route on his phone. He’d spent ages on the route alone, making sure to stop at every hospital in town where nurses agreed to protest. And then there was the part of making sure they could walk there and not get run over while not seeming like they were giving into the man by getting approval for everything. Was it even a protest if a corporation was backing it? Did a hospital count as a corporation? Virgil was this close to losing his mind.

“He’s coming with us!” a familiar voice cheered. Patton emerged from the crowd dragging his husband Logan behind him. Both sported the Nurse’s Rally t-shirt. Patton still tied his cardigan over the shirt to add that distinctive Patton flair. Virgil couldn’t remember the last time he saw Logan in a t-shirt. Even after a near-death experience with a rare South American disease, he strolled out of the hospital in a polo and tie.

“I finally convinced him to join the march,” Patton declared, hopping beside Virgil.

“I believe the term ‘kidnapped’ would be more fitting,” Logan huffed.

“Okay, but Logan, why did you approve on this design?” Virgil snapped, pointing at the nurse on his shirt. “Why did you let Roman get away with this?”

“I wasn’t involved in the design process,” Logan explained. “I merely assisted Roman in understanding how to use graphic design software. I had no input on what the shirt would look like.”

“I think it’s cute,” Patton giggled. “It’s teenage Virgil!”

“Patton, please don’t say that,” Virgil shuddered. “Oh, too late, the memories are here. So much cringe, ah!”

“Drinks on the house, big boys!” Remy popped up beside the three men with a full cup holder. “Don’t tell the Critic.”

“Aw, thank you, Remy!” Patton chirped, taking one of the drinks. Virgil and Logan took theirs too. Remy kissed his fingers and gave them a peace sign as he walked away.

“Punch Roman in the gut for me when you see him!” Virgil shouted.

“Will do, boo!” Remy called. Virgil put his phone away and glanced up and down the street. A few of the early-bird reporters were already circling, snatching random staff for interviews on the rally and taking into their camera. Virgil spotted Terrence from VIN3 chatting with one of Virgil’s nurses, casual enough that it took a second glance to realize Terrence was interviewing them.

“Okay, we’re heading out in a couple of minutes,” Virgil huffed. “Where is our banner? If Roman wants us to carry a banner, he needs to get it to me now or I’m not holding it.” Sure enough, Thomas hurried through the crowd with Emile at his side and a banner tucked and folded under his arm. Emile was one of the few people not wearing the t-shirt, instead going for his usual tan cardigan and blue tie. He kept a megaphone at his side.

“We had to fix a few things,” Thomas explained. He unfolded the banner and gave one end to Patton. Virgil held his breath as he waited for whatever horrors Roman and his creative underlings invented to be revealed. The banner was a colorful red that needed four people to hold it. Symbols from every major hospital and clinic participating in the walk lined the banner, from the Sanders Hospital rainbow caduceus to the blue flower of St. Gemma’s. The phrase ‘Funding for Florida’s Nurses’ sat in the middle of the circle of symbols.

“Good job, Princey,” Virgil muttered as he held the middle of the banner up. “Alright, Thomas, we’re ready to go.”

“Give the signal, Emile!” Thomas declared.

“Avengers, assemble!” Emile laughed, holding up the megaphone. The megaphone groaned and squealed, drawing everyone’s attention. Virgil, Logan, Patton, and Thomas made their way down the street as the crowd followed behind them, and the Nurse’s Rally truly began.

Ironically, protesting the government required a bit of cooperation with the government. Police officers helped clear a path through Miami, redirecting traffic as the march looped around to collect new members from local hospitals. Some joined up midway through while others crafted a couple signs. More reporters lurked along the sidewalks, carefully following the march’s progress. Virgil just prayed the group wouldn’t get laughed off the steps of City Hall for protesting something as seemingly useless as a cut to statewide nursing education. If other hospitals in the city hadn’t supported the rally, it would have died before it launched. Virgil had a whole lineup of speakers discussing the importance of educated nurses, even adding in speeches on other major flaws of the medical system of America. And Virgil was the first speaker. He tried not to think about that.

One of the best parts of the whole rally was actually Patton’s idea. Virgil wasn’t sure if Patton realized it was his idea, since it had been randomly suggested during a lunch break. A few of the signs, specially designed so they wouldn’t be read as weapons by the police, read ‘Help Fund Nursing Education’. The volunteers held out buckets to the crowd, passing them around and collecting whatever cash people could give. If the rally collected enough cash, the Miami medical community could make a huge donation to the major medical colleges in the state!

“We’re at our first stop!” Patton cheered as the protesters neared the main entrance to Baptist Children’s Hospital. Virgil’s heart soared when he saw the nurses and doctors gathered outside, all drawing their attention to the large crowd. It was working. Pediatric doctors and nurses who knew Patton from the local social circle of pediatrics said hi and exchanged a few professional words before mingling into the crowd. Virgil glanced back to see Roman, Nate, and Remy walking not too far from the front, with Roman being the only one in a rally shirt. Roman met Virgil’s eyes. Virgil tugged at his shirt and raised an eyebrow. Roman simply did that stupid pose of his with his arms overhead like he was royalty. Virgil smirked, rolling his eyes.

Everything Virgil had been working on ran through the back of his mind like a checklist as he continued down the planned route. As long as he was the one keeping everything on track, the others could enjoy themselves. Patton, popular as always, joined up with his pediatrics friends and began cooking up a junk pile of nursing puns. With the powers of other child-at-heart doctors, he was an unstoppable pun machine. Logan was prepared for death. Thomas and Emile strolled side by side, already talking about the next big project at Sanders (something involving Ben, the psychiatric department’s emotional support dog). The crowd behind him continued to grow with doctors and nurses. He was so wrapped up in the growing size, imagining the rally collapsing into a riot with City Hall on fire, Virgil only realized where his next stop was when he saw the oh so familiar statue of Saint Gemma, the patron saint of students and pharmacists.

The nurses of St. Gemma’s Hospital crowded around the old statue. Those not wearing the purple rally shirts wore their black scrubs instead. Virgil spotted a few old coworkers mixed into the group; fellow nurses from the psychiatric department, those who had only just started when Virgil left, the few nurses that seemed close to tolerating Virgil back then. Virgil, Logan, Patton, and Thomas paused for a few moments to allow the staff to blend into the march.

“Never thought I’d see you in a position like this,” one nurse scoffed as she passed Virgil. “Good for you.”

“I don’t see a lot of doctors joining us,” Thomas sighed, squinting to see the crowd better. “Spot any old friends, Virge?”

“Oh, yeah!” Patton chirped. “Gosh, you’ve worked at Sanders for so long, I nearly forgot you came from here!” Mixed into the swarm of purple shirts and black scrubs, Virgil spotted a black bowler hat lingering just above the tallest heads, held up by a pale hand with dirty fingernails. A yellow gloved hand snatched the hat back. The crowd cleared just enough for Virgil to spot Dr. D and Remus. Dr. D wore his usual off-work attire, with his yellow gloves and bowler hat. He’d zipped up his black jacket and fluffed out the hood slightly, revealing a golden shirt with a high collar. His dark gray trousers had a streak of yellow running down the sides. Remus wore his green leather jacket and lime scarf over the rally shirt. He'd graffiti-ed the cartoon nurse with crude imagery. Dr. D fixed his hat back on his head while Remus giggled. The crowd formed back around the two men and Virgil lost sight of them.

“Don’t see anyone worth talking to,” Virgil huffed. “Come on, we only have a couple more stops.” The banner continued on. The march crawled down the streets, aided by the police setting up blockades against the traffic that could potentially run the protesters over. Virgil’s hands grew stiff holding up the banner. What if he tripped on it cause he couldn’t hold it up? He glanced over his shoulder. He couldn’t spot Dr. D anywhere.

“Virgil, are you prepared for your opening speech?” Logan asked, his voice jarring Virgil enough to stop him from tripping over his own feet.

“I memorized it,” Virgil admitted. “Hopefully.” Right, one of the few things still up in the air about the rally. With any luck, Virgil wouldn’t have a heart attack giving his speech.

“While you’re doing your speech, I need to make sure the other speakers arrived safely,” Thomas added. “Gosh, I know I have a list of our speakers…” He scrambled for his phone while trying not to drop the banner. “After you, we have Dr. Tahan from Mercy Hospital, followed by Nurse MacNamara…” As Thomas listed off the speakers he and Virgil recruited, the anxious nurse looked back again. He could see Dr. D. He walked in the middle of the crowd, glancing at Virgil occasionally as he examined those marching around him. Virgil wished he could pull his hood over his head as the group took a corner towards one of the smaller clinics signed up for the march.

The next time Virgil looked back, Dr. D was closer.

He was close enough that Virgil could just make out the scars trailing down the left side of his face. He still looked around with the same calm attitude, but Virgil knew he was coming for him. What would he say if he got close to Thomas and the others? It was time for some crisis aversion.

“Hey, Emile, can you take my place?” Virgil asked, looking around Logan and Thomas to the friendly therapist. “My hands are sore.”

“Sure!” Emile said, slipping through the crowd. Virgil and Emile swapped the banner with one fluid move. Virgil stumbled to not bump into anyone as he walked behind Emile. He stared at his feet as he carefully slowed his pace. The crowd strolled past him, more bodies collecting in front of him. He walked slow enough to fall back through the march. Shiny black shoes slipped into rhythm beside his purple sneakers.

“What do you want, D?” Virgil huffed, meeting Dr. D’s stare.

“Why would I want anything?” Dr. D asked.

“Anxiety!” a grating voice cheered behind him. Remus latched onto Virgil’s neck in a shoulder hug, practically swinging on him. “I’ve missed you!” Virgil had to shove the janitor off. Remus held out his phone like he was going to take a selfie. “See, loyal viewers, Virgil Lawson has returned!”

“You’re still doing that talk show?” Virgil groaned. “Seriously, who even watches that? No, no!” Virgil shook out his hands like he was trying to push away the distraction. “I want to know why you’re here, D!”

“This is a good cause,” Dr. D explained. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t support it. Education is vital for good nurses.”

“I don’t want you ruining things,” Virgil growled. “I’ve spent ages planning this.”

“Virgil, why in the world would I want to ruin your rally?” Dr. D huffed, fiddling with his gloves. “It only makes things worse for me. I don’t want incompetent nurses assisting on my surgeries.”

“You already force out anyone you don’t like from surgeries, that’s nothing for you,” Virgil noted. “Maybe you replaced that with adding random doctors to your rosters so you can, I dunno, get free skin cream. Who knows what else you’ve done to get what you want since I quit?”

“You’ve certainly been up to a lot since then!” Remus chirped. “Finally lose the V card, Virgin?”

“I don’t put up with your nonsense anymore, Remus,” Virgil snapped. “I don’t film your show anymore and I don’t talk to you.”

“You’re talking to him right now,” Dr. D said.

“Go bug someone else!” Virgil huffed. Remus frowned, but scurried back through the march.

“You’ve gotten a bit of a reputation from what I’ve heard,” Dr. D chuckled. “Rubbing brass with your hospital president? Organizing this rally? Very impressive. I couldn’t imagine the old you doing any of this.”

“I’ve heard plenty about you too,” Virgil growled. “You’re still cutting corners. You defy DNR orders, you’ve avoided telling patients about surgical risks multiple times, you’ve outright denied people surgery! You’re still as bad as you were when I left, maybe even worse. Frankly, I’m shocked you haven’t been fired or arrested!”

“I didn’t think you were one to listen to gossip,” Dr. D muttered, lips pursing together. “Glass houses, Virgil.” Virgil glanced up at his friends. They chatted amongst each other without a care, smiling. Dr. D’s eyes glimmered, and he glanced up at the front. Dr. D smiled. “I can only assume you haven’t been mentioned in any of these rumors.”

“And we’re gonna keep it that way,” Virgil hissed. The march took another corner, and Miami City Hall stood in front of them. The city hall was stationed on a circular piece of land overlooking the ocean, with long docks lining behind it. A circular driveway wrapped up to the front steps, leaving a circle of nature in the center. The U.S flag flew over the city, its shadow falling onto the stark white building. Virgil stomped forward, leaving Dr. D in the dust. He joined back up with his friends at the front as the march turned up the volume. Officers stood on the grass, watching over the crowd as they swarmed over the driveway, squirming for a little bit of room. The reporters watching from the sidelines grew to their biggest size yet, all trying to get good shots of the crowd. Drones flew above to get aerial views. Emile, Thomas, Patton, and Logan turned around and held the banner over their heads, marking the end of the long walk.

As Logan and Thomas folded up the banner, Emile handed Virgil the megaphone.

“Ready as you’ll ever be?” Emile asked in that special tone that confirmed he made a cartoon reference Virgil didn’t get.

“Well,” Virgil huffed, eyes darting between the front steps of City Hall and the giant crowd. “Surprisingly enough, I’m feeling anxious about it. Talking in front of hundreds of people does that to folks.”

“Take a minute to calm yourself,” Emile suggested. “I’m sure the crowd can wait.” Virgil took deep breaths, juggling the megaphone between his hands. Without his hoodie to hide them, he put his empty hand in his back pocket. There was something else in there. He thought his pocket was empty. Virgil pulled out a carefully folded piece of paper. He unfolded it.

Virgil,

Honesty has never been my strongest suit. I found my words are more truthful when they’re written down. I wish you luck on your rally. I truly hope all goes well. I agree, the cuts to statewide nursing education are idiotic.

I think Remus misses you. It’s tough to tell, but when you’ve been around him long enough, you can notice when he’s feeling down. He hasn’t fully accepted that leaving was your decision. I have. We all have to live with it.

To whatever comes next,

Dr. Janus Dee.

Virgil looked through the crowd for Dr. D’s bowler hat. He couldn’t see the mysterious doctor anywhere. His thumb brushed over D’s name. Virgil crumpled the note and shoved it into his pocket. He made sure the megaphone was on and took to the steps of City Hall.

————————

@watchoutforthefanfics @moonlight22oa @mediocrity-at-best

#sanders hospital #sanders sides au #sanders sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #thomas sanders shorts au #cartoon therapy au #cartoon therapy #deceit sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #remy sleep #emile picani #the nurse’s rally #brief mentions of religion #medical drama au #medical drama #sanders sides fanfic #sanders hospital fanfic #protests

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

My Little Secret part 5

Summary: After experiencing a turbulent night, you wake up feeling oddly refreshed. You try to go about your day when your mind is clouded by other things.

A murmur of words. A flash of skin. Heated breaths. Swollen lips pressing against one another. A fire that ignited deep within you, a sweet pleasure waiting for its release. Rough hands on your bare torso, a gruff voice whispering in your ear…

Darlin’.

The sun shining through the blinds across your eyes awoke you from a deep, dream-filled slumber. You shifted slightly, only to realize your hand rested underneath your pajama pants. The intense burning had cooled to a dull ache. Did you really just…dream like that? About Arthur?

You sat up slowly, stretching out your stiff muscles. Last night felt surreal, the assault only seeming like a vague nightmare rather than a vivid memory. It certainly didn’t bother you like it did upon coming home last night. The only reminder was the empty mug sitting on your nightstand. Next to it, your clock flashed 9:30 am. It’d been a while since you’d slept in that late. You had to wonder, how long did Arthur stay after you’d passed out? You crossed your arms, fingers idly searching for the scrapes, though in your surprise, found nothing but smooth skin.

You blinked in confusion, staring down at your arms. No evidence of scrapes or scratches, not even scabs or redness to indicate healing. Maybe they weren’t as deep as you’d thought.

Your hand wandered to your temple, expecting to still find the soreness and swelling, only to find that had disappeared too. You frowned, wondering how the hell you healed that quickly. Schooling and simple logic told you it would be impossible.

You shook your head in defeat, knowing that trying to make sense of it would lead to only more questions to which you wouldn’t know the answer to. Unless Arthur somehow brewed an all-healing tea, like some sort of health potion in fantasy worlds, which would be, again, logically impossible.

Emitting a long sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. You grabbed the mug and headed out toward the kitchen.

Friday meant online work; which allowed you to relax in the comfort of your own home or the quiet, serene atmosphere of the library. But you also had work, which reminded you of the daunting task of having to speak to your boss about the night before. You could almost hear the conversation in your head; her demanding you take the matter to the police despite your constant protests.

Deciding to send a text rather than making a physical appearance, you let your boss know what was going on. Naturally, your phone blew up with multiple texts and eventually a call. You answered, albeit reluctantly, to have a thirty minute conversation about the details and trying to convince her you did not want to go to the police station and file a report. You hurriedly ended the conversation after that.

To keep your mind busy, you set yourself to making a nice breakfast. Your efforts proved fruitful; the savory-sweet smell of eggs, bacon and waffles filling your small apartment. You’d say yourself down and dug in, your mouth welcoming such a symphony of flavors that it almost seemed unreal. You’d always made breakfast the same way, yet somehow it seemed more…complex. Every ingredient was the same as you bought it, though you couldn’t quite figure out why it tasted different to you.

You’d left your apartment closer to noon, your backpack full of books and your laptop bag slung around your shoulder. Rather than hitting up the campus grounds, you decided to go to the local town library instead. As you walked along the dusty red paths of Rhodes, the thought of running into Tom again had briefly crossed your mind. Somehow though, you weren’t worried about it. Your mood was unexplainably heightened since waking up, and the last thing you wanted to do was dampen it.

Rhodes Town Library had loomed in the distance amongst the rows of houses and shops. It was a small, older building that was built in the 20’s. It certainly fit the more rustic part of town; buildings that had stood proud since the 1800’s. It only took you another moment to reach it, pushing open the heavy doors. The smell of must and old parchment was nearly overwhelming, though a welcome scent.

You settled at one of the tables close to one of the windows and got to work.

As time passed, you’d managed to make a sizable dent in your work. After about an hour and a half, you stood up to take a small break and stretch your legs. You began to wander aimlessly through the aisles. It wasn’t your first time here, though you weren’t too familiar with it. The college library was much bigger, although this place contained local history, and even had a couple of items and documents on display.

Your eyes wandered, observing the old photos, drawings, and newspaper clippings that decorated the walls. Topographic maps, photos of the mansions owned by rich families of the past, even one of Shady Belle. It was clear that much had happened since the town’s founding, even way before a university was built within it.

Creeping along the walls, everything keeping your interest. You came across an article that seemed almost familiar. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was about the Van der Linde gang. Between the museum in Saint Denis and the ghost stories at Shady Belle, you’ve learned a lot more about this gang in the past few weeks.

The clipping was faded and yellowed with age, though had a picture of the group posed in front of a large wagon. You stepped closer to get a better look; gazing over each and every one.

You paused at one, a man that looked…too familiar. Though with the low quality, it was a little difficult to really see. The name had been listed under the picture in order, and you found it: Arthur Morgan.

Now it hit you, he looked a lot like the Arthur you knew. You tilted your head in thought, observing as many features as the century-old newspaper allowed. Perhaps this was Arthur’s ancestor, or maybe it was some strange coincidence.

Your curiosity got the better of you, and you returned to your laptop. A few minute search rewarded you with a better image of this fellow.

Well, “better” would be a loose term, given how old the photo was. Still, it provided more features than the newspaper did. Arthur Morgan was posing in front of a backdrop, a revolver in hand with a fierce and very familiar expression. You recalled a moment from last night, how angry Arthur had looked when defending you from Tom. The resemblance was uncanny.

You tried to focus on your work once again, yet Arthur and his possible doppelgänger ancestor remained in the back of your mind. Maybe you could ask him next time you ran into him.

Your thoughts began to wander more, idly thinking about the dream you had last night. Admittedly he was a handsome man, though getting in bed with him was the furthest thing on your mind. The way his lips caressed your body sent a flush of heat into your cheeks. You could vaguely recall seeing him shirtless, a broad torso lined with thick muscle. Was that what he looked like in real life?

You reached further into your subconscious, mentally peeling his clothing off layer by layer. You could hear his voice, low and rough, his teeth grazing against your neck.

Despite the air conditioning, your body was hot.

You took a deep breath and shut your laptop, knowing there was nothing much else to be done with yourself in such a state. You’d have to find another activity to keep yourself busy. Silently, you scolded yourself for allowing to even consider such a thing. Arthur was nice, as strange as he seemed when you first met him. A gentleman who gave off an air of old-school polite mannerisms, yet fiercely protective as well. You had to wonder why he didn’t have a significant other, or if he did and just never mentioned it.

Of course he wouldn’t mention it, you’ve only spoken with him a handful of times.

Shit, why were you thinking about him so much?

---

The day wore on rather quickly, after you left the library you’d stopped for a quick lunch before returning home. Even though you kept yourself busy enough, you still could not get the image of those beautiful baby blues from your head. You’d even found yourself doodling them at some point; on the corner of your notebook page.

As the sun was setting, you were beginning to grow restless. With the evening off, your ideal night would be to relax. However, you felt as if you needed to do something else. You’d hadn’t had a Friday night off in a while, so it felt a little strange. You may go out for a walk perhaps, enjoy the outdoors after having your nose buried in research and textbooks for the majority of the day. Walking at night wasn’t something you’d done often, especially in such a humid area. The air had cooled down to a bearable temperature, enough to enjoy nature without feeling suffocated.

You knew most of the people in town as they’ve come into the club at some point or another. Rhodes wasn’t a town known for its crimes; though you had a pocket knife on you just in case. You headed toward the park, the paths illuminated with golden lights. Aside from the heavy ambience of crickets and katydids, it was quite peaceful. You wandered aimlessly, occasionally passing by others who had the same idea. Evening joggers and couples chattering away, or enjoying each other’s company.

It’d been a few years since your last relationship, opting to focus on your studies rather than a significant other. Regardless you missed the companionship and closeness, and a warm body to cuddle with. You imagined a pair of strong arms wrapping around your waist, your skin tingling from the sheer thought of it. God, were you that touch-starved?

You sat down on a nearby bench, facing an elegant fountain. You focused on the running water, the sound of it soothing. Still, the distraction didn’t allow those thoughts to stray. A ghost of a person beside you, keeping you in a loose embrace. Tender lips pressing a light kiss to your cheek, whispering sweet words to you.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, your gaze turning to see a figure stepping into the light. You’d expected to see another park goer, instead it was someone all too familiar: Arthur.

Your breath hitched, cheeks flushing in slight embarrassment. You’d caught yourself daydreaming about him again, and it was if the universe was teasing you at this point. Perhaps it was a hallucination fueled by your own desires.

He caught your stare. “Hey, Y/N.”

Definitely wasn’t a hallucination.

“A-Arthur, didn’t expect to see you here!” you exclaimed slightly louder than you intended to keep your voice steady.

“Could say the same ‘bout you,” he responded with a slight chuckle. “You doin’ alright?” his tone became more serious, though with a hint of concern.

You nodded, remembering those moments from last night in your home. “Better. I’m not as hurt as I thought I was. I told my boss too, like you said. And took the night off.”

He nodded. “Good,” he stepped closer, gesturing to the empty space on the bench next to you. “Mind if I sit?” when you shook your head, he sat down and you realized he was a little closer than normal.

He was just mere inches from you, your skin tingling once again as if he radiated electricity. Your heart began to race, and you took a slow, deep breath to try and calm yourself. “Thank you,” you managed to say, “Again, for last night.”

He gave you a small smile. “Don’t have to thank me, Y/N.”

“You saved me, Arthur,” you continued. “I don’t know what else would have happened if you hadn’t shown up. You even stayed with me when I asked, even if it was stupid. If I could ever repay you, please let me know.”

He looked at you again, though his expression was hard to read. He sighed and shook his head, “That ain’t needed.”

“Are you sure?” you pressed, sensing his hesitation. “It could be anything…really.”

You caught your own desperation from your response, followed by a stab of shame. You hoped he hadn’t picked up on it. His attention turned to you again, his eyes staring directly into yours. Those blue eyes were beautiful and hypnotizing. You could get lost in them. Quickly, you peered at his lips. They were surprisingly plump and slightly parted, as if he were going to say something. Yet it was silent between the two of you.

Was he leaning in?

You’d never been this close to him before, his defining features stood out even in the darkness. The way his cheekbones were set, sloping a smooth angle to a strong, scarred jaw. The stubble that shadowed his face, you could just imagine it tickling you if you kissed him-

Kissing him.

You were that damn close to his face.

Fuck it.

You closed the space by planting your lips to his. They were unusually cool like the rest of his body, but soft against your skin. When you felt his body stiffen, you pulled back at an instant, afraid that you’d misread him.

He stared at you with a dumbfounded expression. “Y/N-”

“I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, tearing your sight from him. “I’m so sorry, Arthur. I totally misjudged- I didn’t mean- I thought you-”

Your rambling was stopped short when you felt a hand caress your cheek. You peered shyly up at him again, surprised to see a small smile on his face. It absolutely took your breath away to see him stare at you that way.

He guided your face close again until his lips rested on yours. You were even more surprised by this, almost pulling back in your own confusion. But his hand, as gentle as it was, kept you locked in. You melted to his touch, kissing him back with gaining confidence.

It felt like ages when he finally released you, pulling back slowly as his fingers slid from your cheek. The smile remained on his face. You stared him, your mouth slightly hanging open. Did that really just happen?

You’ll catch flies like that, sweetheart.” He chuckled.

You closed your mouth with a little more force than necessary. Your face burned with a blush. “Uh…” was all you could manage to utter.

“You okay?” he asked, the concern immediate on his face.

You blinked and nodded, turning your head away in embarrassment. “God, I-” you took a deep breath to collect your thoughts. “We just kissed.”

“Yeah…we did.” He said nonchalantly. “Ain’t that what you wanted?”

You turned your head slowly to face him, but avoiding his gaze at the same time. You weren’t sure why you felt so shy at the moment. “Of…course,” you said slowly. “I just…I didn’t know you wanted to as well.”

He chuckled again. “Wouldn’t o’ kissed ya otherwise, Y/N.”

Somehow you blushed even harder. You covered your face sheepishly. “Aw jeez…didn’t think I’d be so flustered…”

“Hey…” you felt his cool hand on yours, slowly peeling it away from your face. “You’re alright, darlin’.”

Darlin’, just like in your dream. Was this a dream? His eyes were on yours, exhibiting a softness on his otherwise weathered face. You reached out, cupping his face almost hesitantly. His stubbled skin felt very real to you, your thumb running along his cheekbones. You could observe his features up close for once, from the faint scars that decorated his face and the ridge on his nose, indicating it’d broken at one point. He was very real to you.

“Can…can I kiss you again?” you asked, your voice lower than a whisper.

He nodded silently, allowing you to take the lead this time. You brought yourself closer, eliciting a kiss even better than the last. Your arms wrapped around his neck, the muscles of his shoulders strong underneath your touch. His mouth felt soft against yours, his lips moving in sync with yours. Hands rested against your waist with a light touch, and you scooted closer into his arms. His grip tightened slightly.

Your thoughts roamed back to earlier, awakening a spark that cascaded down your body.

The kiss became more heated, his mouth gently prodding yours to open as his tongue darted across your lips. You chased after it with your own tongue, wanting so desperately to have more of him. Would it go that far tonight?

As if he read your mind, his hands disappeared from your waist only to gently grip your wrists. He pulled your arms from around him, parted the kiss and sat back. You pouted and whined slightly, craving even more.

He gave you an apologetic smile. “Don’t wanna get carried away with ya. Might end up doin’ somethin’ I’ll regret.”

You sighed in disappointment, but you understood. It was too soon for anything else right now, and you still barely knew one another. You ignored how your emotions were driving you wild. Too wild. You’d never experienced anything like this before for someone else. Arthur really had a different effect on you in a way you couldn’t explain.

He brushed his lips against your hands, still trapped within his. He lifted your arm up gently to kiss a line from your palm, down to your wrist. He rested his mouth against your pulse point for a second before releasing your hands. You could have sworn you felt his teeth graze your skin, but it was so slight and quick you weren’t able to tell. “Walk with me, Y/N. Think I oughta get to know ya more.”

You nodded silently, though your legs felt rooted to the bench. He helped you to your feet, sliding his hand into yours with a gentle grip.

You didn’t expect yourself to become a chatterbox after that, but for the next twenty minutes, you walked around the park as you poured your entire life out to him.

“So you’re gonna be a pharmacologist, huh?” Arthur asked after you’d explained why you were here. “That’s a lotta schoolin’ ain’t it?”

“So much, feels like an eternity sometimes,” you sighed. “I think at this point I could list every drug in the world in alphabetical order, along with each effect it has on the human body. The best part is it’ll be part of my job to create new ones.”

“That’s some skill,” Arthur mused. “New drugs to fight sickness n’ all?”

You nodded. “My ambition will be the death of me.” You said with an amused tone.

Arthur peered over at you. “Ah, don’t say that. You’ll be great at it.”

“I’m only joking,” you pointed out with a smile. “But some days I feel like my head will explode from all the studying. I was in the library earlier and-” you stopped your train of thought, remembering what you discovered in the library. “Hey Arthur, are you named after an ancestor? Like a great-great grandfather or something?”

He frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“Well, I came across something interesting. Those outlaws that used to roam this area over a hundred years ago? The library has some information displayed about them. I found a picture of one that looks exactly like you, and has the exact same name.” you explained.

The confusion in his face deepened slightly, and then it was wiped when he gave a slight chuckle. “Yeah. Guess you could say that. Descendant of an outlaw.”

Something about his tone struck you as odd, as if he were nervous about it. Perhaps of being judged by his family’s history?

“It’s gettin’ late, lemme escort ya to your car.” He said, squeezing your hand slightly.

You blinked and glanced at your phone. It was nearly 10 pm. “Oh, shoot, didn’t even realize it was that late.”

He led you back through the park, taking you to the parking lot where your car was. He finally released your hand, and noted how cold it felt despite holding on to it for nearly a half hour now. You turned to face him, smiling up at his handsome face.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” he murmured to you, leaning in for a kiss to which you responded eagerly.

It was quick and sweet. As you broke from him, you said, “Arthur, we walked around the park for twenty minutes and I still haven’t learned much else about you.”

A half smile touched his lips. “Ah, my life is borin’ compared to yours, darlin’. Pretty sure you won’t wanna hear ‘bout it.”

“But I do,” you responded as-a-matter-of-factly, putting your hands on your hips. “Especially if…ya know, we’ll be seeing each other more often. I just gave you my whole life story, so I’d like to hear yours.”

His head shook slightly at your tone, the smile widening with amusement. “I ‘spose that’s fair. Next time, sweetheart. Don’t wanna keep ya out too long.” He reached over and nimbly opened your car door.

How was he such a gentleman? “Okay, how about a date? I have off next Monday.”

“A date.” He repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Been a while since I’ve been on one.”

“And all the more reason to do it.” you pointed out with a smile.

He contemplated for a moment, his eyes cast toward the ground. He finally looked at you once again, giving you a nod. “Alright. Monday night.”

“8 pm, we’ll go to that little burger joint by the school. Sound good?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought and appearing almost…nervous? He finally nodded and answered, “Sure. 8 pm on Monday night.”

“I’ll see you then, Arthur.” You said as your smile widened.

It was then when you said your real farewells. He’d reached out to caress your hair gently, each touch elicited from him would send sparks along your skin. Your body trembled with a slight shudder as he whispered another goodbye to you, smiling at you before stepping away.

You watched as he crossed the parking lot over to a motorcycle partly hidden in the shadows. He mounted the iron horse and the engine roared to life, filling the night air with its growls. Just moments later he skirted across the lot, turning onto the street before speeding off and out of sight. As the noise faded, you stepped into your car and sat down.

Excitement overtook you from head to toe, expressing itself in a squeal of glee. For the first time in years you had a date.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #vampire au

[watchmegetobsessed]

MET - Shawn Mendes

arghhh it didn’t turn out how i wanted but i hope you’ll still enjoy it!

masterlist

You’re staring at yourself in the mirror as the glam team is working hard on you. Not that you need that much work to look presentable, but because you are going all out with your look tonight and need everything to be perfect. Your appearance is going to be a statement.

Your phone buzzes on your lap just when Anna, the hair stylist starts applying gold onto your hair. You jump a bit at the cold feeling and meet her gaze exchanging a smile before you turn to your phone and open the message you just got from Shawn.

“No worries, I’ll be there right next to you. Xx”

Your last text explained how nervous you are to attend the Met Gala as his plus one. It’s going to be your official debut as a couple, something people have been waiting for months, to be sure since the two of you was shot at a restaurant early in your relationship. You both did a great job keeping things low-key but now is the time to set your feet into the public and officially appear as Shawn’s girlfriend.

It’s kind of unfair how men need half as much time to get ready as women, you’ve been up since seven in the morning, took the longest shower, shaved and moisturized your whole body making sure you didn’t miss a spot, then you had your nails done, perfectly matching your outfit and the glam team has been working on you since one pm. Shawn left early in the morning to have a quick studio session before it’s time for him to get ready, now it’s two pm and he is on his way back to the hotel.

A nervous sigh slips out through your lips as you lock the phone and put it back to your lap turning your gaze back to yourself in the mirror. Anna is working precisely on your hair, applying the gold to your slicked back ‘do. You’re still kind of overwhelmed by the fact that it’s actual gold, not just some fake golden paint. It’s going to match with Shawn’s look and you are excited to see how you’ll look next to each other.

“How am I going to get it out?” you ask her as she finishes up the painting and starts fixing the smallest details.

“Just wash it,” she smiles at you in the mirror. “Maybe you’ll need a few more rounds of shampoo but it should come out easily.”

Weird to think you’ll be washing thousands of dollars out of your hair and watch it go down the drain, but you keep it to yourself. It’s the Met after all, you should be as extra as possible.

Just when Anna finishes your hair the door opens and Shawn walks in, wearing a black hoodie and black jeans. His eyes fall on you and a wide smile spread across his handsome face.

“Wow, you look amazing!” he breathes out stopping a few steps away from you, admiring your final beauty look. For your eyes you went for a dramatic smokey look with golden in your eyebrows, your lips are a nude color with a thin golden line running from under your nose through your lips down to your chin. You’ve never looked this extra and never thought you’d ever be going out looking like this, but you have to admit you are excited.

“It’s your turn,” you grin at him standing up from the chair and fixing your bathrobe. Shawn leans down for a kiss, but you turn your head. “Nah, you are not ruining my makeup,” you warn him with a look. He pouts his lips at you looking like a puppy, but your mind can’t be changed. He won’t just mess everything up with a kiss.

You caress his cheek and the push him towards the seat. A few moments later Anna is working magic on his hair. You manage to force a few bites into you, not wanting to faint on the pink carpet later, and sitting on the bed you watch Shawn getting his hair done.

Soon Andrew arrives as well and he is completely satisfied with your look so far.

“It’s going to be amazing, don’t worry,” he encourages you seeing how scared you are.

“What if I fall?” you ask, worried to death. You’ve been thinking about all the possible ways to humiliate yourself out there in the past couple of weeks, almost giving you nightmares.

“You won’t, Shawn won’t let you,” he smirks glancing over at the man in word. Shawn smiles at us from the mirror wiggling his eyebrows.

When it’s past four Tiffany advices you to start putting on your dress since it’s not an easy task.

“Let’s move over to the bathroom,” she suggests and you nod in agreement.

“See you in a bit!” Shawn calls out as he is getting his makeup done, which is basically just some corrections on his skin.

Tiffany and you occupy the huge bathroom of your hotel room, your dress is lying in the bathtub since this was the only way not to wrinkle it. After handling your underwear situation, with the help of Tiff you manage to put the dress on in about fifteen minutes.

It was a long debate to decide on your dress. The gold was the only sure thing since Anna knew from the beginning this is where she is going to go with the hairstyles, but it didn’t give much leads on the dress. After weeks of searching Tiffany finally found the perfect choice. A fully golden Saint Laurent dress with a daring cleavage and a huge skirt that has a barge that’s quite the statement. The whole dress is made of a kind of flowy material and has a nice metallic effect, perfectly matching the hair.

When it’s finally on Tiff helps you with your simple black heels and then admires her work with a satisfied smile.

“You look amazing. Shawn will lose his mind.”

She advised to not let Shawn see your final choice before the big day and now you’re kind of nervous to step out of the bathroom. Tiff leaves you alone to build up your courage and also to put your rings on while she dresses Shawn quickly. You stand in front of the mirror examining your final look. There is no question you are quite extra, doing justice to the theme of the gala, but the butterflies in your stomach just wouldn’t stop. You question your choice to make your first official appearance on the Met Gala, it would have been nerve wrecking at any other event, but the Met adds some more to your worries.

You fix your dress and try to let go of all the negative thoughts you’ve been building up in your mind in the past weeks. You hear a knock on the door and Tiff’s head appears.

“You ready for the reveal?” she asks and you force yourself to nod before you could change your mind.

She gives you an encouraging smile as she holds the door open while you slowly walk out. Shawn is standing in the middle of the room, dressed in his black suit and he is fixing his collar when his eyes land on you and he immediately stops mid-action.

“Fuck,” is the first thing that slips his mouth, making everyone laugh in the room.

“Is it that bad?” you ask knowing well it was totally an amused expression.

“Are you kidding me? You are fucking gorgeous! Babe, I think I fell in love with you again!”

You can’t help but chuckle at his words as he walks over to you taking a closer look at your final form. His hands find yours as his eyes roam your body and the dress, still fully amazed by you.

“So beautiful,” he adds smiling at you proudly and his reaction truly warms your heart giving you the boost you needed.

Soon you both are sitting in the car on the way to the Gala, you are sitting sideways not to wrinkle the back of your dress and Shawn is holding your hand, running his thumb on your skin back and forth in a soothing way.

“Hey,” he speaks up getting your attention. “Don’t stress. It’s gonna be alright.”

“What if I-“

“No what ifs,” he says cutting you off. “You have to remember two things.”

“What two things?” you shyly ask.

“One, you look absolutely beautiful, like, mind-blowingly gorgeous.”

You blush at his compliment, thinking how adorable he is.

“And the second?”

“The second is that I love you. And no matter what happens, I’ll love you the same way, or even more at the end of the night. No one can change that, so don’t worry about tonight.”

Your heart melts looking at him. He truly is the most wonderful man to walk this Earth and you have no idea how you got so lucky to have him in your life.

“I want to kiss you so bad, but I don’t want to mess up my makeup,” you sigh making him chuckle.

“I know. You can make up for the kisses when we are back at the hotel,” he winks at you making you blush.

His small peptalk kind of worked. When the car stops and it’s time to get out you feel less nervous. You are still shitting your nonexistent pants, but you don’t feel like you are about to pass out. Shawn doesn’t let go of your hand as you make your way to the carpet. Right before you are about to step out there he turns to you looking deep into your eyes.

“Remember, I love you.” He brings your hands up to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

“I love you too,” you tell him, wishing you were able to kiss him, but your eyes tells it all.

A few moments later you are standing on the pink carpet of the Met Gala and people are losing their heads over the two of you. Shawn keeps you close to his side, but also lets you shine since everyone loves your dress. You keep posing for the cameras, Shawn occasionally steps back and fixes your dress without you even asking him to do so. As time passes by you feel more and more comfortable in your skin. You are definitely starstruck by all the celebrities around you, but it’s excited to be a guest.

Later, when you are back at the hotel after the wildest night of your life, the gold is gone, you are wearing one of Shawn’s hoodies and panties while he is in his boxers, laying on the bed, you are checking the photos from the pink carpet.

“Baby, we look like a power couple,” he proudly states staring at the screen. He is right, your appearance matched in the best way and everything was on point. “Can I post this?” he asks showing a picture where he has an arm around your waist and you are looking at each other smiling. He was still taller than you even with those heels on you and it makes you smile.

“Yeah, it’s a cute photo,” you tell him and watch him save it and open it in his Instagram.

“I have the best caption, don’t look,” he tells you turning the phone away as he types the words in.

You get your phone from the night stand and wait for the notification to arrive. A few moments later it pops up and seeing the caption you start laughing.

“I think I just MET the love of my life.”

#shawn #mendes #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfics #shawn mendes fanfictions #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes Imagine #mendes army

[daddysfavouriteboytoy]

Roméo Valentin Jacquemin

Name: Roméo Valentin Jacquemin Age: 22 Birthday: 17th September Gender: Male Sexuality: Homosexual Ethnic: French Languages spoken: French, English, Spanish, German as well as a bit of Italian, Turkish, Hungarian, Ukrainian and Russian Species: mutated human Appearance: his fingers and lips are tinted a light blue colour  (Face-Claim: Alex Puértolas)

Clothing: When he was still living with his parents, he normally would wear grunge clothes. Now, he wears the few things which he brought with him. The only difference to then and now is, that the clothes are pretty torn and quite dirty. Height: 1,89 m Piercings: a lip piercing Tattoos: on his right shoulder blade Scars: He has a big scar which starts on his upper lip and ends on the middle of his cheek, another big one under his right eye which reaches from ear to the bridge of his nose and a third, smaller one on the right side of his neck. All three of them are from his first encounter with the IMCO. Illnesses: Mutation, slight insomnia Personality: To a lot of people’s surprise Roméo is relaxed and warm, with a “live and let live” attitude. Naturally, these trades should make him likeable and popular if it wouldn’t be for his mutations. However, he tries not to let that fact tear him down, instead, he is really good at relating to others’ emotions and helping them to establish harmony. Being so aware of others’ emotions, Roméo uses creativity and insight to come up with bold ideas that speak to people’s hearts. While it’s hard to explain this quality on a resume, this vivid imagination and exploratory spirit help the man in various, unexpected ways. Beneath his shyness beats an intensely feeling heart, as well. When he is caught up in something exciting and interesting, he can leave everything else in the dust. Freedom of expression is often his top priority. Anything that interferes with that, like traditions and hard rules, creates a sense of oppression for the guy. When situations get out of control, he can shut down, losing his characteristic charm and creativity in favour of gnashing teeth. Relationships: Germaine Jacquemin – step-mother; 55 years old; CEO; married; alive Pierre-Marie Jacquemin – father; 58 years old; fashion designer; married; alive Christiane De Saint-Pierre – older half-sister; 31 years old; actress; married; alive Abel Jacquemin – older half-brother; 27 years old; author; married; alive Séraphine – a stray dog which follows Roméo after he shared his food with her once Fears: the IMCO, losing his dogs, a lot of attention/speaking in front of a host of people, being completely alone, being experimented on, touching others Likes: sunflowers, big dogs, peace, frozen yoghurts – no matter the season, plants, classical music as well as punk rock, people treating him like a normal human being, meditation, long walks through the woods, the smell after it rained Dislikes: his family, unfamiliar situations, being compared to his brother, having to hide who he truly is, violence, IMCO, being different, mould, not having enough to eat, traditions Hobbies: urban exploring, swimming, strolling around, climbing on trees, travelling, ice skating Occupation: Thief Housing: abounded House Powers: can control ice, is able to freeze pretty much any liquid, can make it snow very slightly but only five square meters around him, his skin is extremely cold and leaves a thin layer of ice on the things he touches as well as giving others frost bites if they touch it Position: Switch Virgin: Yes Turn-ons: risky places, pet names, scratching, hickeys, foreplay, aftercare Turn-offs: degrading nicknames, golden showers, bad hygiene, being interrupted Other:

never stays too long at one place

his nose starts bleeding heavily whenever he overuses his powers

he sympathises more with animals than humans

is surprisingly good at picking up foreign languages

Backstory:

"Good evening. We are interrupting your regularly scheduled program to declare a state of international emergency. With the information that we've been provided with so far, it is our understanding that a high profile military experiment has gone awry. As a result, untested chemicals of great biohazard risk have been exposed to the environment. We can not provide any further information on the corporation responsible for the leak. Experts from the science field all around the world have come to a consensus on the matter. Evacuation will not be effective. By now the chemicals have contaminated the water supply, the air supply, as well as the food supply. According to the experts, should only affect individuals containing a specific gene found in only 3% of the population. For those individuals, the chemical could cause mutations of unknown proportions. Everyone, please stay calm at this time of mass hysteria, be safe, and be aware of anyone altered by these chemicals." Credit [x]

Roméo was not a planned child, which definitely showed in the way his parents treat him. Already during his first year of living, he was raised by maids, nannies and all the other people his parents paid to take care of him, so they didn’t need to. During his childhood, the rest of his family was also rarely home, his parents always travelled around the world while his brother was occupied by his studies and hobbies. It even went so far that Roméo didn’t even know he had an older brother the first few years of his life. Only when the boy got older his parents slowly stood home for longer periods of time. During those years, Roméo started school and his parents paid private tutors to teach him just the same things as his brother. Unfortunately, their youngest son wasn’t really into those hobbies nor very good at school. Quickly, the two parents began to get annoyed with their child and started to complain about why he couldn’t be as talented as his older brother who seemed to be flawless at everything he did. At first, the blonde spent a lot of time trying to live up to his parents’ expectations and get even better grades than his brother. This way, Roméo spent all of his elementary and middle school years, trying to somehow get the attention and approval of his parents by being the perfect son. Only when the blonde eventually got taught high school stuff, he realized that it was an impossible task. Therefore, he decided to just accept it and ignore his parents just like they ignored him. Roméo joined an ice-skating club which was a few blocks away from his home and nearly always met with internet friends after practise, so he had time to spend as little time as possible at home. It's true to say that Roméo had a somewhat normal and easy life until that threatful day. Some news lady announced the failing of a military experiment and warned people of possible mutations. At first, the blonde boy could only roll his eyes at the news, not believing one word that left her mouth, he thought it was some kind of stupid prank or joke. Well, his thinking changed quite quickly because he soon realized that he was one of the few 3 percents who had this strange gene in them. He changed, no, his body changed. Suddenly his body temperature decreased drastically and his lips, as well as his fingers, turned light-blue. Unfortunately, this was the reason why his parents suddenly paid attention to their unloved son. Now they thought he was an even worse disgrace to their family, then he was already before. After his strange changes, Roméo wasn’t allowed to leave the house anymore and soon he wasn’t even able to touch anyone anymore without leaving frostbites on their skin. His life grew dark and lonely, in a gigantic house without anyone to talk to apart from his private teachers, he couldn’t even use a phone nor a computer without destroying the device. However, Roméo wasn't the only one struggling during this time. When all these unnatural powers and mutations started to pop up it was disturbing the natural balance of the world. While the newly dubbed "mutants" only made up a small portion of the population, they still posed a threat to the safety of society. In response, a task force by the name of IMCO (International Mutant Containment Organisation) was formed, hunting down anyone with the unique gene in order to lock them away from civilisation. Roméo survived a year with the torture of his family and did not go crazy, however, a few months after his 18th birthday, the blonde decided to escape this hellhole. Yet, his parents seemed to somehow have found out about their second son’s plan and informed the IMCO about his existence. Just one day before the young adult could finally flee from the mistreatment of his family, two officers of this organization busted into his room and tried to tackle him on the ground and take him with them. However, for the first time in his life, Roméo decided to fight back, he had enough of being pushed around. Some might have considered this a huge mistake, a certain death sentence even, but for the unloved man, it was the only chance to have at least a slight chance to survive. Although in the heat of the moment, the mutant got badly hurt, he still managed to escape the officers and take a small suitcase with him in which his most important belongings were. However, this fight wasn’t won without sacrifice. Roméo did something he never dared to even think about, he killed a human being. Though it was an accident, he gripped the guy’s throat and unintentionally froze it, resulting in the other’s suffocation. It was a moment he tried to forget or at least suppress ever since. Shortly after his escape, he was only able to focus on one thing by then, surviving on the street. Despite him having stolen a big sum of money from his too rich parents, it was more than obvious that he was a mutant due to his looks. Simultaneously, he was on the run from the IMCO and police. That was also the reason why he left France and travelled the world, not staying anywhere longer than a year, this depended heavily on the size of the country he was currently staying in.

Starter

#mutant oc #ice powers #oc with powers #supernatural oc #oc #gay oc #male oc #homosexual oc

[rorykillmore]

okay a belated holiday gift fic for @tailsthesales! they requested villanelle + draco and their daemons, so i just went all out and wrote a snapshot of a full daemon au rather than just “they’re hanging out in saint denis on denny”

giz!! thank you for another year of good times and wonderful rp! you’re always so quick to reach out to support and compliment my writing, and i’m so grateful for all the times that’s encouraged me to keep going. thank you also for being such a constructive and creative staffing partner on denny -- i feel like whenever i come to you with an idea you’re always ready to help me build on it and fine tune it. even if you’re not always feeling sure of yourself, i want you to know that your kind and supportive presence makes a difference, and i’m grateful as always to call you my friend <3

Draco, Villanelle decides in that moment, will see his daemon settle when he really, actually chooses where he belongs. And decides whether that’s with his family or not.

“When did your daemon settle?”

It isn’t that Draco ever has any qualms with asking exactly what he likes when he likes, but this question feels odd for reasons Villanelle can’t put her finger on. Maybe because it’s the kind of thing nosy kids ask adults, and there are so few moments in which Draco lowers his guard and really embraces the vulnerability of being... child-like.

Villanelle runs her fingers luxuriously through Mischa’s striped fur. “I don’t remember. I don’t think it was for any special occasion. One day, we just decided who we were.”

She’ll spare him the truth as a kindness, she decides easily. Even he would be frightened by it.

Draco snorts, as though that answer doesn’t impress him.  “Fine. Then when did he settle? How old were you?”

Raising her eyebrows, Villanelle finally lifts herself a little from where she is lounging on their living room couch, Mischa laying on the floor beside her, to stare over at Draco. For the past half an hour, he’s been hovering over at the coffee table, practicing some transfiguration trick or another on an old set of teacups he found God knows where (as if Villanelle would ever be caught dead owning teacups). But now he seems distracted.  Libelle, presently in the form of an arctic fox, paces restlessly at his feet as if she is not particularly pleased with the direction of the conversation.

“Older than normal. Older than most of the other kids.”  Villanelle shrugs. She had felt identity-less, like little more than an adaptable shapeshifter herself for much of her childhood and her teenhood, but looking back it hardly seems significant, like it is just another of the many, many ways she is not like everyone else. “Eighteen, I think.”

As if she doesn’t remember with incredible specificity. Sometimes before that, Mischa would pretend to be settled into a singular form whenever they’d meet strangers, and the two of them would have fun by pretending to be meek and delicate and seeing how they might mislead people.

Draco frowns faintly, and Libelle shoots a smug look up at him, and it prompts Villanelle to ask, “Why do you care, anyway?”

For a heartbeat Draco looks as though he might scoff and deflect, but in the end he answers,  “I’ll be fourteen this year.”

“So? That is not so abnormal. I just told you Mischa did not settle until I was eighteen.” 

Draco shrugs, turning stiffly back to the table, until Libelle abruptly calls him out.  “He’s worried what his father would say,” she tells Villanelle, sniffing at her counterpart. “Pureblood families are meant to have their daemons settle by the end of their third year of school. It’s considered proper.”

“Wow. What a stupid rule.”  Then again, Villanelle is sure she hasn’t yet heard one of those Pureblood stipulations that she hasn’t considered stupid at best. But Draco tenses and turns back to her, and not before shooting a sharp, irritated look at his daemon.

“It’s embarrassing, having your daemon flitting from form to form like a child’s after a certain age. I’ve been telling Libelle she ought to just... get on with it, already.” 

Mischa makes a low huffing noise, his ears prickled and his attention focused on Libelle. Villanelle glances at her too, and finds her distaste for the whole situation evident. It is not uncommon, necessarily, for Draco and Libelle to be divided in opinion on things, and in fact it isn’t uncommon for children to argue with their daemons about settling anxiety in general, but...

Still, Villanelle snorts.  “You cannot just get on with it. It just happens. At the right moment.”  She thinks of Mischa’s bloodstained muzzle, his amber eyes alight and alive. She remembers her own quickened breathing. The stench of death in the formerly sweet apartment air. When they’d decided who they were.

 Dismissive, she blinks the memory away.

“And I don’t feel it’s the right moment yet,” Libelle retorts brattily, pointedly trotting away from Draco’s side and sidling up next to Mischa.  She tilts her head, considering, and by now Villanelle recognizes that spark of mischief in her eyes. She watches as Libelle changes form, becoming large and feline and predatory, with golden, tawny fur. “Perhaps I’ll be a lioness. That’d be new and different.”

Mischa rumbles, indulging her, but Draco scowls as though Libelle has made some kind of taunting joke. 

“No offense, but you do not strike me as a cat person,” Villanelle tells Draco airily.  “...Although lionesses are quite stubbornly loyal to their families. So who knows.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Draco demands while Libelle snickers.  Over time, he’s begun to lose some of his sensitivity to Villanelle taking jabs like that, which Villanelle has taken as a good sign, but today it seems like a sensitive issue again. 

“You let them tell you when your daemon is supposed to settle.” Villanelle rolls her eyes.  “That should be her business. And your’s. Your father would have you let him stick his nose into everything, until there is nothing left that belongs to you.”

She hates fathers, she thinks bitterly, not for the first time in her life.

She’s expecting a fired up retort from Draco, but this time he stays curiously silent.  When Villanelle looks over, she finds that he looks troubled. Torn. Libelle has gone back to vixen form, but this time her fur is a deep, defiant red, and her ears are pinned to her head.

Draco, Villanelle decides in that moment, will see his daemon settle when he really, actually chooses where he belongs. And decides whether that’s with his family or not.

Well, she knows Mischa would tell her if he much felt like speaking, He’ll have to discover that for himself, won’t he?

Villanelle amends for the time being, “I am just saying, don’t let that be the reason you stress over it. It’ll make your head all confused. People’s daemons don’t settle when their heads are like that.”

Draco relents with a sigh, unfolding his arms, which had been crossed defensively over his chest. “I suppose there’s no point in getting too worked up about it. It’s not as though I’m at Hogwarts, where anyone can see.”

“Yes, and you know I will judge you regardless of what petty societal expectations you follow, so at least there is that consistency!” Villanelle reminds him cheerfully.

Libelle chitters out a laugh and curls up on the floor near Mischa, finally at ease again. Villanelle marvels at it briefly, the way she always does when another daemon extends that sort of trust. Mischa is as much a killing machine as she is, capable of crushing the throats of most daemons in his jaws if he so chose, and yet the people close to him act as though he is a normal fixture of their lives. Safe to turn their backs on.

They’re both still getting used to that treatment, she supposes.

“As if I’ve ever cared what you think,” Draco is busy retorting, drawing Villanelle out of her thoughts and making her grin slightly.

“Good. That’s good practice for you.”  And before he can process that statement, she continues on casually, “Are you going to show me that trick you were doing with the teacups, or what?”

Never one to pass up the opportunity to show off his magic, Draco pauses to glance over his shoulder.  “Oh -- that? It is a fifth year spell, not that it’s been posing much of a challenge.”

“Wow. You can do things fifteen year olds can do!” Villanelle’s eyes widen, mocking and playful.  “I wish I could.”

They trade jokes and insults for the rest of the afternoon, until Draco seems as at ease at his daemon, as if there’d never been any argument at all. Later, Villanelle is sure they will both remember, perhaps while lying awake at night with their restless thoughts. But she’s not one to worry about the future, and Draco can probably stand to learn from her example.

But then to give him credit, she relents as she steals a brief glance at him, he’s already learned quite a lot.

#christmas gifts #fic #PROUD OF U DRACO AS ALWAYS

[mybirdsongphotography]

Covid has tried to destroy everything. 

I haven’t opened this blog since February, and it’s not because I don’t have beautiful couples to write about. I do.  But when the world went haywire in March, and all weddings were completely uprooted from their original visions, I was left without my craft.

Hopefully you guys know by now exactly how much this work fuels me. It’s more than a paycheck, (which yes, if you’re wondering I have missed those since February too!) and so much more than a “good photo” (those can be taken by iPhones any day).

I miss getting to hold my beast of a camera up in the air as I’m dancing my way through guests, trying to politely get to the other side of the dance floor while simultaneously doing (and singing, I know you’ve heard me) the cupid shuffle.

I miss seeing the bride take a deep breath before someone zips up her dress because let’s face it, no matter what size and shape your body is in, there is some slight fear that on your big day, and only on your big day since you’ve tried it on ten times already, it’s just not going to fit.

I even miss the Aunts, sisters, and friend of Uncle Bob’s coming to tell me what I should be taking a picture of next… or coming to nudge me to take a photo of Great Aunt So and So dancing with the little kids (of which I assure them I have already got the shot).

Okay, that last one I might not miss as much... but you get the idea.

This entire situation brought creative life back in me. 

Now let me introduce Haley and Fernando.

This was a taste of how their engagement session looked:

Yep, they ended up in the water at the end of their session! Side note, I am always going to say yes to bringing your dog into the photos, that should be a given by now.

Fast forward to 2020, the year that won’t quit.

These two were supposed to have their wedding this past Spring, as were a lot of hopeful couples, I know. We found out all flights were canceled, and thus began everyone figuring out what new dates could work, and how far away of a date would hopefully be safe enough for travel and gathering up all of their loved ones.

Some of you know that since June of 2019 my family has been on the road. Dave has been working as a Travel Nurse in the Operating Room, and I have (until Covid) continued my work as a traveling/destination wedding photographer.

We were living in our RV in Santa Cruz, California, during the start and height of quarantine, and then only recently (June 2020) we moved to Colorado for another travel assignment for Dave.

Imagine my excitement when Haley was mentioning her thoughts on how to go about rescheduling the wedding, and one of those thoughts included eloping to Colorado.

Giddy doesn’t even begin to describe it.

Knowing how much fun I had during their engagement, I let them know I was down for anything. Thankfully there was an entire day before they got here that Dave could watch Connor and I could go explore mountains in search of a perfect location for this photo session. 

After hiking around some amazing Colorado spots (including Sapphire Point Overlook and Blue Lakes, both of which I highly recommend) I was blown away by Saint Mary’s Glacier.

I knew it was worth it, but I had to check with them first to see if hiking over a mile up on rocks (not one bit of it is a smooth path) right before photos was something they would want to do!

Not only were they completely down for whatever adventure I had planned, they met up even though we knew it was going to most likely storm.

It gets better.

Her response to the weather was that we could just have our very own scenes like the Notebook if it rained!

Sign me up over and over for couples who want an experience out of this, not just a couple of posed photos.

(Don’t get me wrong, I’ll help everyone pose during any sessions. There’s nothing natural about someone staring at you through a lens for an hour.)

Right off the bat, we get about a half mile up the mountain, and I realize I need one more attachment for a light stand. Fernando offers right away to go grab it out of my trunk. I have a hard time saying yes to help, but this past year I have been training myself to simply say yes when it’s offered. He literally ran down and back before I could’ve gotten halfway down the rocks. Good thing I said yes.

As soon as we got to the top and they got changed into their clothes, the sky opened up.

(okay, okay… you can see they weren’t all the way changed yet!)

We were already almost alone on the mountain, and as soon as the rain started we could see the few small groups start leaving. More room for us.

Harnessing all of our survival instincts, we ducked down under some branches and found a covering thick enough to cover us from the rain.

Now, once you hear how loud the thunder can sound while you’re on top of a mountain…

…you start rethinking a few things.

Thankfully it didn’t seem like lightning was around us at all, so after it let up a little, we head right out to get to it.

You can’t even tell how crazy it felt out there by looking at these. And that’s usually my thought during a photo session. However hot, or cold, or rainy… you won’t be feeling that forever.

You can, however, look at your photos forever.

So why not dance on the edge of a mountain for wedding photos? 

And if you’re wondering just how I get all my gear around while it’s raining? This picture sums it up.

I bring covers for each camera and lens for bad weather, but when you’re hiking around, trying not to miss a spectacular golden hour, it’s kind of hard to keep that plastic from sliding onto and over your lens.

Golden Hour on Saint Mary’s Glacier is a must see in Colorado.

  Sometimes I can’t choose between leaving an image in color, or turning in to black and white. I feel like so much power can be shown in a black and white image, even though it’s rare that I end up posting them.

Now sometimes I see so much joy in someone’s face, I stop caring about the background and want to zoom all the way in so you can see it too.

Can you blame me?

At this point… guys. She was a little frozen icicle just standing in the rain by actual ice water. And look at that joy!

It was contagious.

Still is every time I look at these. I’m sure I’ll go through and find even more to share with you guys from this one… I just thought you shouldn’t have to wait any longer to read about the magic!

  Yep. It was all magical. I’ll never be convinced otherwise!

  Don’t know how we’ll top this at their wedding celebration this coming Spring, but somehow… with these two… I bet we can.

Congrats you guys! I can’t wait to keep celebrating with you!

Location: Saint Mary’s Glacier (Idaho Springs, ColoradoColorado)

Haley & Fern | Saint Marys Glacier Elopement Session Hike a mile up with us just to see these views. You won't regret spending a little time reading through this adventure elopement session... on the top of a mountain... that yes, has glaciers! Covid has tried to destroy everything.  I haven't opened this blog since February, and it's not because I don't have beautiful couples to write about.

#Adventure Elopement #Canon 5dmiii #Canon Photography #Colorado Wedding Photographer #Elopement wedding photography #Mountain Top Wedding Photos #Mountain Wedding Photography #Saint Marys Glacier

[180abroad]

Day 186: Last Day in Amsterdam (Rijksmuseum and Sweets. Lots and lots of Sweets.)

Our week in Amsterdam had flown by, and today was our last chance to cross any items off our must-see list. The biggest line item was the Rijksmuseum, the Netherlands' answer to the Louvre in Paris and the National Gallery in London. We also had a canal boat tour to cash in, as well as some more edible works of art to enjoy.

Our first stop of the day came at the recommendation of one of Jessica's friends, who had insisted that we absolutely had to try some Dutch poffertjes from a food cart at the Alberg Cuyp Street Market. A sort of fluffy miniature pancake, poffertjes can be popped out hot and fresh by the dozen thanks to a clever contraption that pours the batter into a specialized pan

We got them with sea salt and caramel sauce, and they were the creamiest, fluffiest, most delicious things we could remember tasting on the entire trip.

As we walked over from the street market to the Rijksmuseum, we stopped for coffee at an espresso bar that one reviewer claimed to be the best in Europe outside of Italy. It was just okay, at best.

The Rijksmuseum is beautiful and massive. It resembles a cathedral from the front, with its twin spires, tall arched windows, and engraved images---not of saints and martyrs, but of artists and scholars.

Inside, we ran yet again into our old friend Laocoön one last time. Note how in this depiction,  Laocoön's right arm is extended horizontally outward instead of bent back at the elbow. As we'd learned back in the Vatican archives, that means that this statue (or possibly the copy that it was a copy of) was made before 1906, when the original statue's missing right arm was finally discovered. Before then, most experts believed that Laocoön's arm had been extended in the way we see here. Given the aesthetic principles of Greek and Roman sculpture, it seemed obvious.

But Michelangelo had known better.

Four hundred years earlier, when tasked by the Vatican to reassemble the recently unearthed statue, Michelangelo could tell that the right arm was supposed to be bent. Just by looking at the musculature of the one-armed statue, he deduced that, 1) the original Greek sculptor was as much a master of human anatomy as he was himself, and 2) that the way the muscles in the sculpture's back were flexed meant that the model posing for the statue had to have had his arm bent back at the elbow. And he was right. It's like something out of Sherlock.

Bypassing the rest of the museum for now, we headed straight upstairs to the main event: the Gallery of Honor, a purpose-built grand hall exhibiting the best of the best of the Dutch Golden Age.

The museum's cathedralesque motif resumed at the top of the stairs. Light poured into the gallery's antechamber through stained glass windows venerating the great artists and thinkers of Western civilization.

The Rijksmuseum's Gallery of Honor is a brilliant idea that I think more museums should embrace. It consists of a long, vaulted corridor lined with alcoves dedicated to the greatest works of the greatest Dutch artists from the Golden Age. Even if you only had one hour to visit the museum, you could spend the entire hour here and leave contented that you made good use of your time.

The previous day, we'd been so impressed by the Mauritshuis in The Hague for its impressively manageable collection. In a way, the Gallery of Honor does an admirable job of creating the same effect in a much larger museum---it makes the unmanageable manageable.

Rather than rushing around trying to see all the most important stuff---our visit to the Louvre in a nutshell---the Rijksmuseum brings all the most important stuff to you in one easy room. Then, if you have more time, you can relax and explore the rest of the museum's fantastic collections at your leisure, free to guiltlessly explore whichever exhibits happen to tickle your curiosity.

But enough about design theory; let's get to the art.

One of our favorite artists featured in the room was Jan Steen. A natural comedian and storyteller among the Golden Age artists, Steen made paintings that were colorful, fun, and lowbrow with a snarky undercurrent of social commentary.

Many of Steen's paintings feature large families or groups of revelers, and the level of detail is amazing. His faces are brilliantly emotive, and every person exudes a sense of story. One of my favorites is Prince's Day, which shows a raucous tavern scene. There are over twenty characters in the picture, and every one of them feels fully alive and engaged with what's happening---even the barely visible couple whispering to each other in the background.

But the real punchline is a barely-there portrait of the prince hanging in the murky recesses of the ceiling. These people couldn't care less that they're supposedly celebrating the prince's birthday; they're just happy for any excuse to drink and be merry. And the primly dressed little girl looking straight out at you from the middle of the scene seems to know it, too.

It's no surprise that Jessica and I both loved the work of Van Ruisdael, the Golden Age's master landscape artist. I was particularly struck by his painting of The Windmill at Wijk bij Duurstede. It shows a picturesque windmill standing near a river. The nearby town is just discernible by the roofs of the local church and castle peeking up in the distance. Late afternoon sunlight beautifully illuminates the windmill at a dramatic angle, and at first the scene seems idyllic. Looking closer, however, you can see the clouds are becoming ominously dark, and the surface of the river is marked by a noticeable chop.

I may be overthinking it, but with the way the windmill dominates the scene while the castle and church fade into the background, it seems as though Ruisdael had something to say about the relative positions of industry, government, and religion in Golden Age Dutch society. Perhaps even about which way the winds were blowing, so to speak.

Another of the honored greats was Frans Hals, with his ability to create portraits that are remarkably heartwarming and instantly likeable.

And of course, there was Vermeer---the once-nearly-forgotten master of light and color whose slow and fastidious technique (along with his relatively early death) left him with remarkably few paintings to his name. As we'd learned the day before at the Mauritshuis, the Rijksmuseum has the largest collection of paintings by Vermeer in the world: four. And while the Mauritshuis has the iconic Girl With a Pearl Earring, the Rijksmuseum has some classics, too, including The Love Letter, The Milkmaid, and Woman Reading a Letter.

At least, usually. When we visited, however, Woman Reading a Letter was on loan to the Alte Pinakothek in Munich. Luckily, Jessica and I had already been there and seen that.

Another particularly interesting canvas came in the unlikely form of an angrily defecating swan. The life-size Threatened Swan was painted by Jan Asselijn as a straightforward nature scene, showing the drama of a swan defending its nest from a curious dog. But that's just the beginning of its story.

Over a hundred years later, simple nature paintings had gone out of style. People wanted art to be rich with symbolism---whether or not the artist actually intended it. The Threatened Swan was therefore "improved" by the addition of allegorical labels, effectively turning it into a glorified nationalist political cartoon. The swan's eggs were labelled "Holland," the dog was labelled "enemies of the state," and the swan was the Dutch government defending the people of Holland from their enemies.

Last but not least was Rembrandt, the big daddy of the Golden Age painters. Rembrandt was a master of pretty much every genre of painting, but his trademark was large-scale group portraits. It was a mark of pride during the Golden Age for professional organizations to commission group portraits of their members. And Rembrandt had a unique talent for turning what would normally have been a dull lineup of doctors or lawyers into a lively and interesting scene.

The ultimate room at the end of the Gallery is dedicated to Rembrandt's massive Night Watch. The room was designed specifically to showcase it, and the rest of the Gallery grew from there.

Today, at least, the painting is considered a spectacular masterpiece. But as soon as he finished it, Rembrandt’s group portrait commissions immediately dried up. Whether this was the result of dissatisfaction with the painting or an unfortunate coincidence caused by an economic downturn is a matter of speculation. In any case, this painting represents the high-water mark of Rembrandt's career.

Another funny story about The Night Watch is that the name is a total misnomer. The painting's actual name is the more accurate but less catchy Militia Company of District II under the Command of Captain Frans Banninck Cocq. Due to the improper use of a dark varnish, the image became so dark that people mistook it for a night scene.

It was only in the 1940s that the varnish was finally removed to reveal the truth. And just over a month after we saw it, the Rijksmuseum began a new restoration project that will hopefully reveal even more lost details. The painting is still on display, though---it is being worked on in public, behind a glass wall that has taken over the center of the room. You can even livestream it on the Rijksmuseum's website.

Having finished our tour of the Gallery of Honor, we were free to wander the rest of the museum to see what we could see.

A nearby room on the same floor was dedicated to Dutch naval art and history. Above the door hangs a trophy that we found as hilarious as it was interesting. For everyone else, it will take a bit of explaining.

Thanks to our travels in the UK, Jessica and I were able to immediately recognize the emblem on this ship’s stern carving as the British royal crest. So, what was a piece of a royal British ship doing hanging in a Dutch museum? The bulk of the room is dedicated to explaining the story.

 In a daring raid, Dutch captain Michiel de Ruyter sailed his fleet up the English River Medway and captured over a dozen English warships, including the English flagship HMS Royal Charles. He towed the Royal Charles back to Amsterdam, where it was put on display as a tourist attraction---to the great annoyance of its namesake King Charles II of England.

The ship was eventually broken up for scrap, and this stern piece was kept as a trophy of the catastrophic embarrassment they had wrought upon the British navy.

That was what Jessica and I found so hilarious.

De Ruyter became a national hero in the Netherlands, and even King Louis XIV of France---with whom the Dutch were not on particularly good terms---honored De Ruyter just for sticking it to the English.

Another nearby room was filled with landscape paintings, including one that Jessica and I recognized instantly for its style as the work of our favorite artistic discovery of the trip: Claude Lorrain. A nearby plaque explained that, much like Claude, many of the great Dutch landscape artists honed their skills while studying abroad in Rome.

We also saw some truly insane dollhouses. Apparently, it was popular among a certain class of wealthy Dutch merchants to show off buy commissioning absurdly opulent dollhouses. The houses were incredibly detailed, with miniature recreations of real paintings on the walls. One of these dollhouses on display was as tall as a person and cost more than an actual house in its day.

And of course, once a merchant had spent a considerable fortune on completing their dollhouse, it was only natural for them to then commission an artist to do a painting of it.

One of the larger rooms was dedicated to the famous ceramic pottery made in the Dutch city of Delft.

We learned that the tremendous success of "Delft Blue" pottery industry is partly due to Queen Mary II of England, wife of William of Orange. Mary loved the blue-and-white ceramics that the Dutch were importing from China and Japan. Naturally, this started a craze among well-to-do Dutch and English women who wanted to copy her style. There were only so many imported ceramics to go around, however, so it was only a matter of time before a group of Dutch artisans cracked the secret and began making their own domestic versions.

Delft Blue pottery ended up becoming so renowned that it was even exported back to China and Japan.

There's even an artistic offshoot dedicated to creating illustrated Delft Blue tiles as an alternative to canvas paintings.

Downstairs, we saw some impressive Post-Impressionist paintings, including self-portraits by Van Gogh and his friend Emile Bernard.

Before leaving the museum, we made sure to see one last highlight of the museum---a massive floor-to-ceiling painting by Jan Willem Pieneman of the victorious Dutch and British forces after the battle of Waterloo. The painting was commissioned by the Duke of Wellington to celebrate his victory, and he can be seen in the center of the painting, illuminated with a shaft of light as if by God. But the Dutch King William I saw the painting and liked it so much that it bought it out from under Wellington and gave it to his son Prince William II. The prince is also featured in the painting, in the lower left corner, being carried off the battlefield on a stretcher.

After leaving the museum, we took another stroll through Vondelpark, which we'd visited before after seeing the Van Gogh Museum. It's a big park, but trees and canals do a nice job of dividing it into cozy-feeling sections where you can almost feel alone with nature.

It was beautiful and serene, except for one mildly horrifying sight we came upon when we had to cross under an overpass.

Our next goal of the day was to find some oliebol, a sort of Dutch doughnut hole that Nic was determined to try. We found a highly rated bakery, but we were sadly informed that oliebols are only really made around Christmas. So instead, we made do with some raspberry-redcurrant tarts that were to die for.

(Don’t ask about the potato…)

The tarts had an unusually thick, cookie-like crust. Jessica tried to wheedle the secret out of the man behind the counter, but he either didn’t know or just played dumb.

With nothing better left to do, it was finally time to cash in the canal boat tour vouchers that we'd gotten in a package deal with our Van Gogh Museum tickets and the windmill countryside tour. It's no less touristy than any of the big City Sightseeing bus tours, but we still had fun and learned a bit.

We learned that the three U-shaped canals that belt the center of Amsterdam were dug during the Golden Age, when Amsterdam’s population quadrupled in size and necessitated a major city expansion. The inner ring was for royals and nobility, the middle ring was for wealthy merchants, and the outer ring was for the working class and warehouses.

Today, even the outer ring is such valuable property that only things like banks and high-end boutiques can afford it.

As much as any of the other amazing sights, we were also impressed by how daringly close the drivers of Amsterdam park their cars to the edge of canals.

We also learned the story behind Amsterdam’s city crest---a red shield with a vertical black bar and three white X's (more formally known as crosses of St. Andrew). The red shield symbolizes the city, the black line symbolizes the Amstel river that runs through the city, and the three crosses of St. Andrew represent divine protection from fires, floods, and plagues.

The use of red and black to represent the city and the river seemed odd at first, but as we talked about it after the cruise, we soon realized that we were walking on red brick streets and looking out at a shimmering river that looked like glinting obsidian in the sunlight.

We decided to end the day with a meal at Europe’s oldest floating Chinese restaurant. Another thing we'd learned on the canal tour was that Amsterdam has the oldest Chinatown in continental Europe. (Jessica and I had already learned that Liverpool has the oldest Chinatown in all of Europe.)

Well, we almost ended the day there.

Nicolas wouldn’t be satisfied with our stay in Amsterdam until we'd had some of the churros we’d seen in bakeries and chip shops around town all week.

Venturing back into the streets, we found a hole-in-the-wall ice cream joint near the Red Light District called Sweetness. We ducked inside and soon found ourselves ordering something called the Red Light Special, which looked like a sort of churro sundae in the pictures on the overhead menu.

It wasn’t until the server turned out the lights and shouted “Are you ready?!” that we began to wonder whether we had ordered something we hadn’t intended to.

It was a churro and ice cream extravaganza, complete with red sparklers and a powdered-sugar fireball.

As ridiculous as it was, it was also delicious and just the right size for the three of us.

With our stomachs full of sweets, it was finally time for us to head home and start packing up. Tomorrow we would be flying to Iceland for a 48-hour cherry to cap off our six-month adventure. It’s been an amazing ride, and it’s hard to believe it’s already almost over.

#180abroad #amsterdam #netherlands #rijksmuseum #canal cruise #churros in the red light #museum #art #history #travel

[meeshes-on-tour-blog]

Envelopes 1-3

Standing in Heathrow Terminal 2 we found Andrew. We stopped to say hello and he asked us where we are going. We gave our standard reply to date. We don’t actually know. Then we explained the Blind Experience concept and asked Andrew if he’d be happy to film us whilst we opened our first envelope. He agreed. Full of unanticipated nerves we began to open the envelope and as I pulled the paper out I saw the image of Christ The Redeemer statue and started jumping around. Jules pulled the rest of the paper out and we saw a caption that read “Christmas in Rio”. I felt so happy and excited, as Rio has been my dream destination for a long time. Jules was thrilled too that we were going to such a fun-filled, hot, colourful place for Christmas, that neither of us had ever visited, that we could both explore together.

So, we set off on the first leg of our journey. First stop Lisbon. Where Jules thought he saw Mo Farah. He didn’t. Then a 10 hour overnight flight to Rio de Janeiro. Which literally translates as January River. I woke up as the plane was descending over the most beautiful hill tops covered in morning mist and little hats of white cloud. I had no idea the geography of the country was so undulating and mountainous. This birds eye view was truly breathtaking, exotic, but tranquil in the pink and golden sunrise. You could see settlements nestled between the valleys and orange dirt tracks snaking between them. This rural landscape then morphed into an urban one, as ramshackle flat-roofed, pastel coloured buildings and high rises, as well as dusty, soon-to-be traffic-laden roads, came into view. Even more impressive was the Atlantic Ocean and coastline that suddenly appeared. Broken up with jungle-covered headlands and bays, with sandy sweeps of beaches. A huge rocky peak of granite and quartz loomed out of the dark blue sea above the harbour, on a peninsula of Guanarabara Bay. It’s name is “Sugarloaf Mountain”, coined by the Portuguese in the 16th century, who named it so in reference to the important sugar cane trade of Brazil.

As we stepped off the plane I side-stepped a giant moth. Marco and us have a running joke about big moths, so that caused us much amusement. I wanted to move the moth to safety, but Jules said it would hurt her, so we left her sitting there. As we walked through the airport the first thing we noticed was the smell of humidity, wet and tropical, just like the Amazon rainforest we imagined. In our excitement to explore Brazil immediately, the long wait at customs was quite challenging, and I did lots of loud British sighing in my boredom. We entered the arrival terminal with our luggage, eyes peeled for a man with a sign.

The sign read “Julian Gallagher” so I jokingly waved goodbye to Jules and the man, and wished them a happy honeymoon whilst I looked for a sign with my own name on. But this didn’t exist. Jules therefore kindly let me come in his and Pedro’s taxi to the hotel. We drove past the oldest and most dangerous favella in Rio, and became immediately aware of the very real poverty that exists in Brazil today. No one from outside the more dangerous favelas are advised to enter or visit them. You may remember a recent news story of a tourist being shot in front of her family by members of a drug cartel whilst looking for water. I’m sure her lesson has been firmly learnt. There are tours of favelas operating, but these come with the obvious ethical dilemmas inherent in “poverty tourism”.

It was an exciting ride through the streets of Rio, and our knuckles turned white in moments as the taxi joined the highway crossing all four lanes following a casual, solo glance in the wing mirror. We began to climb through the beautiful cobbled streets towards Saint Therese, thankful for their speed-reducing function. Many of the taxi drivers won’t actually take people to this area due to the damage done to their tyres and suspension we learned in due course. We admired the graffiti and street art adorning so many of the city’s walls as we entered this affluent area of the city, sitting above Rio laid out below. Our hotel was a stunning oasis of calm in this crazy place. Palm and mango trees, vibrant flower beds, and a beautiful fountain with carp surrounded the old colonial style ex coffee plantation buildings, now converted into a hotel. The place smelled amazing as you walked in, and immediately we were reminded of Anran where we got married, due to the wooden, sculptural decor and white-washed walls. We were given a tour of the hotel which sits over several levels and had a lovely restaurant and bar on a terrace. Jules was particularly pleased with the timing of our arrival, as we arrived in the middle of a professional photo shoot by the pool involving lots of young Brazilian models in swimsuits and bikinis posing for the camera.

We were shown to our room which was very spacious with the biggest four poster bed we’ve ever seen, and a beautifully converted dark grey slate bathroom. The view over the hills from our white-shuttered bedroom windows and bathroom was gorgeous too, and the colonial Portuguese influence was clear to see in the other buildings around. We got the giggles soon after entering our bedroom when it became clear the couple in the room next to us may well be on their honeymoon too. We’ll let you guess as to why we thought this!

Soon after arriving and showering we decided to get out and see Rio. We therefore headed down to Copacabana Beach to see its famous sands. It was extremely hot and we soon stopped for a drink on the beach, only after seeing a man dressed as Santa with a full white beard cycling past on a bike. It was pretty touristy, so after more Santa spotting, which seemed very funny in 30 degree heat amongst tanned Brazilians playing volleyball and running along the promenade, we searched for a lunch spot. We used Trip Advisor to find a more traditional place selling seafood, and found a lovely place a 10 minute walk from the beach. It was small and cool with fans going full blast. The whole menu was in Portuguese so we used trusty Google translate to work out what we wanted to order. An old couple on the table next to us offered their assistance in helping us to order. The man spoke really good English and had lived in London in the 1960s. They had been married for over 50 years and stole a few cheeky kisses over the table. We explained we haven’t yet made a whole year of marriage, but are hoping for 49 more like them. We cheersed our cold beers, which are always served in ice buckets in Brazil…perfect. We chose a couple of delicious piles of fried fish on platters garnished with lime and red onion, and covered in hot sauce. Yum. And by the time we left the bar, we were hugging and kissing each other goodbye like old friends. The Brazilians we met were all so warm and friendly, with a chilled vibe, and fun sense of humour. They make you feel so welcome wherever you go.

Feeling refreshed from sitting in the cool, and energetic after our delicious meal, we ventured to “Sugar Loaf” mountain and went up by cable car. At the top there are the most stunning views of Rio and its beautiful bays. It was a real tourist trap, but was listed as the number one thing to do in Rio, so we couldn’t miss it. As the heat only seemed to increase, soaking the back of her clothes whenever we sat down, we decided the pool was beckoning. So back to the hotel we went, and dived, quite literally, into the pool. After a refreshing dip we lounged on the sun beds, me in the shade as usual, Jules in the sun, as always, and enjoyed some ice cold coconut water straight from a real coconut. After some sun, reading, and snoozing, we headed out for our evening meal in a treetop restaurant, where we opened our second envelope! We learned we would be going on a walking tour of Rio’s street art. This was right up Julio’s street, and he was really looking forward to it, as was I! Jules had done a similar activity in Buenos Aires and loved it.

So we were up early the next day for an amazing brekky at the hotel. Its contemporary dining room had stunning smooth concrete floors, and single-paned industrial steel windows over-looking the local area and its European style buildings. All of the food, including some very exotic fruits, was beautifully displayed, and coffee and tea was served from elegant silver pots and trays. I noticed that bowls and cups were particularly tiny, not sure why. I think we ate the world’s tiniest pancake there!

After our breakfast we set off on our 4 hour walking tour of Rio’s graffiti scene. We met Edmundo our guide for the day at a hotel by Copacabana Beach. He is from Rio and was very knowledgeable about all aspects of life from the favelas, where he runs tours, to politics. We saw a huge array of street art during our time with Edmundo. It was really encouraging to see that there are a significant number of female street artists creating work all over Rio. Graffiti and street art does not have the reputation it has in the UK, and is respected by people and commissioned by organisations and the government. A particularly incredible piece we saw in Downtown Rio was commissioned by the Olympic Committee of 2016, when Rio hosted the Olympics. It consists of faces of people from the five continents, but on a huge scale, in the most vibrant colours (see our Instagram). The talent of these artists is completely mind-blowing and it would be a challenge for anyone not to find beauty in it, and to be impressed by it. There were lots of political messages of peace and equality symbolised in the art, and told within their stories, such as empowerment of Black Africans, revealing these young Brazilian creatives’ social conscience and fight for justice.

Despite Edmundo’s best attempts to preserve our health by standing in the shade as much as possible whilst showing us the art, by the end of the 4 hour tour in the scorching heat, we were gasping for water and desperate for a cold shower, and I had a banging headache. We took a taxi and found refuge in a small restaurant in Saint Therese near our hotel run by a lovely couple. We ate the Brazilian version of fried chicken and salt cod fritter, both delicious, and walked back to the hotel. Jules opened a little extra Christmas envelope from me after we had cooled down with a shower, and learned he would be paragliding on Christmas morning! That evening we went for a delicious cocktail in the bar and then over to the restaurant for our Christmas meal, which Brazilians have on Christmas Eve, not Christmas Day. We agreed have never felt less Christmassy, but were so happy to already have had such an amazing 2 days.

We arrived at Pepino Beach the next morning after a mini Christmas present opening session and a particularly terrifying taxi journey. Whilst waiting for Flávio to take us to the take off point we received the most wonderful news. My friend Georgie’s daughter Tansy had arrived safely on Christmas morning weighing 7.5lb after a long slog. What Happy Christmas news indeed, welcome to the world little Tansy, I can’t wait to meet you!

We were driven up Pedra Bonita mountain at breakneck speed, and were strapped into our paragliding harnesses. We watched several paragliders and hang gliders launch themselves off the take off pad, one not very successfully, which was rather terrifying, and then it was Jules’s turn. I filmed his launch which was pretty smooth and watched as the winds pushed him and his pilot up and away into the skies. Then it was my turn. Me and my pilot were strapped together, and I was told just to keep walking, and to keep my ankles crossed in flight, and legs relaxed. I wasn’t quite prepared for the strong force that lifted us quicker than expected into the air, and the pilot later explained back on the ground, that he hadn’t been either. I’m glad I didn know that at the time. It all felt pretty safe though, and it was amazing looking down over the mountains and buildings below, and seeing the sparkling ocean in all its glory from above. It was still and quiet up there, and as close to flying like a bird as either of us have ever been. It was quite challenging to let go of the Go Pro and open my arms “like a bird” as instructed, and I quickly grabbed back onto the harness. I also experienced a nausea akin to the feeling of seasickness, as did Jules, and was very grateful to land smoothly on the beach after a series of vomit-inducing circles as we came down from the sky, but what an experience for Christmas Day 2017, and we were both very pleased to have done it. Our pilots kindly uploaded all the Go Pro videos and pictures onto Jules’s phone for us to remember our flights for years to come. Lunchtime, and off for some food and a Coca Cola to soothe our dizzy tummies, as well as some delicious ice cream. Then we went back to the hotel to lie on loungers in the shade drinking ice cold coconut water. What a perfect Christmas!

In the evening we cracked open a bottle of bubbly and spokes to our families who were very much missed. It was wonderful to see their smiling faces round the Christmas dinner table, and we decided to open our third envelope whilst on FaceTime speaking to my family. And it revealed that we would be off to Lima, Peru, in the wee hours of the next morning! We were totally thrilled, and I immediately thought of how much our friend Poppy would enjoy that we were going to Paddington Bear’s birthplace! Stay tuned for our next update from country number 2!!!…….

[sydneysageivashkov]

Fic: Buried With Our Past (1/4)

Sydney and Adrian have had five years of peace, living happily ever after with their adopted son and extended family.

And then a spirit experiment goes very wrong, and Sydney wakes up in Russia, seven years earlier. The Alchemists might think they control her, but Sydney's got a family to reunite.

“Miss Sage? Miss Sage, can you hear me?”

Sydney frowned, blinking her eyes open. Even in her bleary state, she felt a swirl of resentment at the use of her maiden name. It hadn’t been uncommon for people to use it in the early days of her marriage as a way of saying that they thought her marriage was illegitimate or an abomination. Sydney rubbed at her eyes, trying to clear her vision so she could identify the voice’s source.

A man leaning over her came into focus. She reared back, scuttling away from him and shooting to her feet. The man’s cheek was clearly emblazoned with a golden lily.

It had been five years. Five years of peace for her, Adrian and the family they had built. Sydney couldn’t say that she’d had no interaction with the Alchemists since she struck her deal with Stanton, but this was something else entirely.

“Where am I?” she demanded. She held out an arm in front of her, keeping space between herself and the Alchemist, ready to use it for spellcasting should there be the need for violence. The room had windows, although they were closed. That ruled out a Re-education facility at least, and the last Sydney had heard, re-education had undergone a large overhaul.

The man raised his arms, palms facing her, in a non-threatening pose. “You passed out during the service. It’s been three hours. We were on the verge of calling an ambulance.”

“Service?” she asked. She didn’t lower her arm, but she suddenly felt less certain about the threat levels she was facing.

“It’s Sunday, Miss Sage,” said the man, as if it explained everything. Sydney blinked. With the panic beginning to recede, she realised she recognised the Alchemist. His name was Alexei Ivanov, and he had been her immediate superior while she had been working in Saint Petersburg. He had hosted services in his apartment every Sunday for the Alchemists in the city, as the city itself didn’t have its own Alchemist facilities.

Perhaps it being Sunday did explain everything to Ivanov. Ivanov’s face held no disgust when he looked at her, as all Alchemists’ did nowadays. He was acting as if she was just another Alchemist, albeit one that had apparently had a bad fall.

The last thing she remembered was helping Adrian and Sonya experiment with spirit. Adrian rarely did so anymore: he spent all but one month a year on medication. During the summer, he would help Sonya study spirit. There were still high hopes of being able to create a vaccine against the Strigoi, although it remained frustratingly difficult to isolate the spirit in any of the former Strigoi, and Adrian and Sydney stood firm on Declan not being experimented upon.

Today, though, they had been focusing on memory. Rose had mentioned how Avery Lazar had been able to find her feelings for Dimitri and create a scene featuring her greatest desires during that particular spirit battle. It was something they had decided to look into, and Adrian had been practicing on sensing her memories.

But perhaps, instead, he had accidentally trapped Sydney inside her memories instead.

And being ‘trapped inside her memories’ could mean two things: this was some kind of vision, and Adrian would be pulling her out soon, or that she had literally been dropped back into her past.

It sounded far-fetched, but Sydney had seen magic do some crazy things. Who knew? Maybe her own magic had interacted badly with the spirit magic and caused this.

Sydney took a deep breath. If this wasn’t a vision, there was no point burning her bridges just yet. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, but it’s starting to come back to me.”

“It’s good to see you’re starting to feel better, Miss Sage,” said Ivanov.

Sydney ignored her skin crawling, and fixed a smile. “Never better.”

-

Sydney managed to stumble into her studio apartment two hours later. First she’d had to get rid of Ivanov, and then there had been the struggle to remember where her apartment actually was. It had been over six years since she had been there last, and it wasn’t exactly a place she had many fond memories of.

Her apartment was painfully bare. It was in stark contrast to her home in Maine. It was impossible to have a bare house with a five-year-old, and that wasn’t even including all of her and Adrian’s possessions: his art supplies, her books stacked everywhere there was space for them, mugs from Pies and Stuff and various holidays, and assorted knick-knacks acquired over the course of five years.

Her apartment, meanwhile, was decorated with basic, Alchemist-assigned furniture, only a few books, and photos of her parents and sisters. Sydney walked over to the photo of her father, and very pointedly placed it face down on the counter. She could put it back up if any Alchemists came calling, but Sydney had no desire to see her father’s face in her own house (she couldn’t bring herself to call it her home).

There were dozens of people missing from the collection of photos. Eddie and Jill, Rose and Dimitri, Trey and Angeline: all the members of the family she had forged in spite of the Alchemists. Most prominently, however, was the absence of Adrian and Declan.

Sydney sunk into her tan, Alchemist-approved sofa and buried her head in her hands. Alone in the past. Would she ever see them again? How on earth could Sydney guarantee that the timeline would play out the same, and she would be able to get her husband and son back?

She could play along, but there was still the problem of bread crumbs. She had tried to play along with the Alchemist party line once before, and she had ended up in Re-education, and that had been as an active Alchemist. Now, she had spent five years apart from the Alchemists, with a broken tattoo and her own beliefs – beliefs that were very different from those of the Alchemists. She had no idea if she was capable of hiding them for long enough to let the timeline play out as it had. Sydney hadn’t needed to hide her beliefs in years. She was definitely out of practice.

Sydney swallowed, and pushed her hair back and out of her face, desperately grasping for a logical solution to this.

First of all: Sydney had been caught, ultimately, because of Zoe and the incriminating messages on the Love Phone. It was only because of those messages to Adrian and the mentions of Marcus that had ultimately done her in.

Second of all: Re-education remained, to this day, the most horrific thing Sydney had ever experienced. But she had survived. If it all went badly, she would be able to find her way out of re-education, and from there find a way to recreate her relationships, even if she was never able to go to Palm Springs.

Third of all: Sydney had no way out of Russia. She had no way to contact Marcus and knew no one who would be able to get her fake IDs and passports herself. If she fled the Alchemists now, it would be simple for them to trace her route out of Russia and apprehend her. If nothing else, Sydney had to play along until she was reassigned to New Orleans.

It left her with one choice, ultimately. She had to be an Alchemist again. She would be the perfect Alchemist until she got back to the USA, and if she thought she could get away with it, she would remain an Alchemist until she joined her friends in Palm Springs and rebuilt her relationships with them.

There was still one problem, however. Presuming that she managed to get all the way through the timeline without disturbing it – and that was still a very big ‘if’ – what did she do about Olive? Sydney could already feel Declan’s absence like a hole in her chest, but in order for her to gain guardianship, Olive had to die, when Sydney knew how to save her. Could Sydney really let a woman die so she could raise Declan?

But on the other hand – was Sydney capable of watching someone else raise Declan?

Sydney pressed her fist against her mouth, trying to suppress her sob. She couldn’t find a logical way through this. It was almost certain that she would lose Declan in this.

She wished Adrian was there. He’d know what to say. Maybe he would even see some way through this that she couldn’t.

-

Just because Sydney had decided to stay with the Alchemists for now didn’t mean that she was abandoning all of her beliefs.

Two days after Sydney found herself in the past, she walked into a casino, and started counting cards. It took her a month, but at last she managed to save enough to go to a jeweller. A week later, Sydney had two rings that were identical to her engagement and wedding rings.

They weren’t something she could wear on her finger. The Alchemists would pick up on the sudden appearance of rings and ask questions that she couldn’t answer. Sydney could, however, wear them on a long chain around her neck, letting them sit under her shirt and next to her heart. It wasn’t much, but it made her feel closer to Adrian.

She hadn’t even risked looking him up on the Alchemist database. She refused to leave a trail of bread crumbs just because she wanted to see Adrian’s face. The rings, however, would be safe enough, she hoped. She hadn’t used any Alchemist funds for them, and had, rather nostalgically, used the fake name Misty Steele at the jewellers. There wasn’t a paper trail for the Alchemists to follow, and Sydney would be careful to keep them under her shirt at all times. Even if the Alchemists did find the rings, there was no way they could guess that they were from her relationship with a Moroi that wasn’t due to start for another year.

Sydney wished that she had something of Declan’s that she could hold on to. His birthday had been the most difficult day since finding herself in the past. She hadn’t found the energy to leave her bed, let alone her apartment. She had spent the day curled up in her bed, desperately wishing that she’d hear a tiny voice demanding to know why she was still in bed on his birthday, come on mum, it’s time for presents!

There was no keepsake she could recreate for Declan. Her rings would have to do.

She could feel the rings resting against her heart as she went to the Alchemist services each Sunday, felt the cool metal against her skin each time she met a dhampir or Moroi on business and had to fix that careful Alchemist mask.

“You’re doing well, Miss Sage,” Ivanov said to her before one service. “I’ll tell your father about your admirable progress. I’m sure he will be pleased.”

Sydney gave him a perfect, Alchemist smile. “I’m just doing my duty, sir.” She kept her hands carefully by her side, not letting them stray towards her rings.

“As we should all strive to do,” said Ivanov approvingly. He left her and went to the front of the room to start the service. Sydney made sure her face remained attentive throughout the sermon, but it was becoming increasingly difficult as the weeks went by.

It wasn’t as if Sydney didn’t believe in much of the Alchemist doctrine. Everyone who was a part of the supernatural world, even reluctantly as the Alchemists were, knew that the Strigoi needed to be ended, and the terrible effects that the temptation of eternal life could have on humans. Sydney couldn’t fault their desire to keep their worlds separate.

It was the other things Sydney disagreed with. Dhampirs and Moroi weren’t unnatural or wicked. There was only one divide that really mattered: the divide between the living and the dead. The Alchemists, however, didn’t see it that way. They might add that the Moroi were allies in the battle against the Strigoi as an afterthought in the services, but Sydney had been through re-education, and knew how the Alchemists were meant to feel towards the Moroi.

She remembered Adrian, his soothing presence always urging her to be brave; Jill, poised and confident and supportive; Eddie, a pillar of strength in hard times. They were her people. They weren’t abominations.

She was startled out of her ruminations as the sermon took an unexpected turn. “Early this morning, I received news from our colleagues in the USA,” said Ivanov. Sydney jerked upright and tried to remember the date. “There has been a major Strigoi attack on one of the Moroi schools.” Sydney swallowed. There was no way any of her actions could have affected Saint Vladimir’s, but was that enough? Was who lived and who died in such an attack a matter of chance? Even if it was a matter of chance, would anything change, just because it was a new timeline?

“We have yet to receive any casualty figures, but it demonstrates the power of the Strigoi and the need for constant vigilance against the darkness,” said Ivanov. Sydney leant back into her seat, and prayed for her friends.

-

“You know, Dad’s starting to show me a couple of Alchemist things,” said Zoe through the phone, the excitement in her voice betraying the casualness she was trying to portray. “He says it can’t hurt to have more Alchemists, and since he’s getting so many good reports about you…”

Sydney went tense, her right hand going to twist at her wedding ring. Since finding herself in the past, her relationship with her sisters had been better than they had been in years – especially with Zoe. Zoe and Carly had loved her, but largely from a distance. They had been raised in an Alchemist household, and a Moroi brother-in-law had been difficult for them to get past.

But Sydney had been talking to her sisters regularly for the past several weeks. There hadn’t been any barriers on her sisters’ ends. This, however, was probably going to put one back up.

Sydney searched for the right words. “Is he planning on getting you tattooed?” she asked, keeping her voice carefully even.

“I don’t know yet,” said Zoe, and Sydney could picture her shrugging. “Maybe.”

It was ironic: last time, their father had started training Zoe because Sydney kept getting herself into trouble and interacting with the Moroi. This time, it was because Sydney was being too good an Alchemist.

Sydney pressed her lips together. Zoe had been one of the Alchemists most vocally pushing for change in the aftermath of Jill’s rescue. She had fought against re-education and had spoken against the secretive nature of the organisation that had allowed people like Keith or their father to run their operations in the shadows. Sydney had been so, so proud of her – but Zoe had still been an Alchemist.

Sydney could feel herself chafing at the Alchemist life at every turn. She would save Zoe from this, if she could.

“Have you heard from Carly lately?” asked Sydney, keeping her voice casual. “She sounds like she’s having a great time at college.

“Yeah,” said Zoe. “She seems a lot happier now that she’s moved out.”

Sydney bit her lip. She knew exactly why Carly had improved so much upon getting away from Jared Sage and his ceaseless praise for Keith Darnell. She lowered her voice instead, like she was telling Zoe a secret. “I still kind of wish that I could have gone to college instead. I would have loved to study ancient art.” Well, she had studied ancient art, but no one in this time knew it. It had been every bit as wonderful as she had always imagined. “What are you going to study?” Make it sound like she wanted to live vicariously through her sisters – it wouldn’t be suspicious to Zoe, but maybe her questions might eventually encourage Zoe to have dreams separate from the Alchemists.

Zoe was silent for a long time, and Sydney almost spoke again, ready to change the subject into something a little less incriminating. But Zoe beat her to it: “Archaeology,” she said, softly.

It wasn’t really a surprise. All of the Sage girls had loved classicism, and Zoe was fairly scientifically inclined, even without her investment in the Alchemists. Archaeology would be a good fit for her.

“Sounds pretty great,” said Sydney, leaning back in her chair. It was a relief to hear that the Alchemists didn’t own Zoe entirely – not yet, at least.

-

“Have any casualty lists come through yet?” she asked Ivanov the next Sunday, keeping her voice casual as she could.

“I believe that the numbers are presently at eleven Moroi and fourteen dhampirs,” replied Ivanov. “Dozens of Strigoi. And of course there have been countless injuries, but their spirit users have dealt with the worst of those.” There was a note of disgust in his voice as he said the word ‘spirit’. That a vampire was able to heal people, even restore people to life, went against so many Alchemist beliefs. Healing like that had once been considered miracles, the work of saints and prophets and messiahs. That an evil creature of the night was capable of it grated.

Sydney tried not to bristle at Ivanov’s tone. It wasn’t like Ivanov was disparaging Adrian specifically, so much as spirit users in general. And Sydney wasn’t supposed to know or care about any vampires, let alone a spirit user she hadn’t met yet. She hoped any irritation that showed up in her expression would be passed off as disgust over the use of spirit, rather than caused by Ivanov. Sydney didn’t think that she had left any breadcrumbs, and that alone wouldn’t be enough to send her off to re-education, but she could hardly be too careful.

Still. The numbers for the attack seemed too low for one of that scale. She tried to remember the casualties from last time round. The Saint Vladimir’s attack was still being commemorated years later, but it wasn’t an event she had visited regularly, nor an attack she had thought about regularly. Even her memory had its limits.

She sighed. Short of directly asking for a casualty list, which would raise too many questions, she had no way of knowing if any of her friends had been killed.

“Are you alright, Miss Sage?” asked Ivanov. He had been about to move off to start the service, but had stopped upon noticing Sydney’s side.

Sydney plastered a neutral expression on her face. “It’s worrying to think about – that many Strigoi working in one group. It just makes our job that much harder.”

“That it does,” agreed Ivanov. “But it also makes it all the more important. With so many Strigoi working in tandem and moving together, it raises the likelihood of one being noticed. We can’t allow for them to interact so directly with the human world.” He gave a barely noticeable shudder and drew a cross on his left shoulder, the sign against evil.

“Agreed,” said Sydney. Interacting with and living alongside Moroi was one thing; serving the Strigoi was another. The Moroi were alive: they had souls and were just as capable of love and laughter and beauty as humans were. Strigoi were none of those things. They represented the corruption of all good things, creating a mockery of life. There was no way to live with them. One could only serve them, in hopes of being made a Strigoi themselves one day – presuming they didn’t eat you first.

Ivanov watched her for a moment more, his eyebrows knit together and eyes worried. She offered a reassuring smile. He turned at last and Sydney kept the smile until he had made his way to the pulpit and began to speak.

-

Sydney started keeping an eye out for signs of Rose a few weeks after news of the attack on Saint Vlaidmir’s came. The first time a Strigoi body was left in the open without any call to the Alchemists, Sydney headed to the Nightingale and searched for Rose.

She was sitting in the corner, hair tied up into a fancy bun and in a black cocktail dress. Sydney made a point of inspecting her from a distance before she approached and sat down opposite Rose.

“So, I’m guessing you’re the one leaving Strigoi bodies across the city,” she said, crossing her arms on the table.

Rose reared back. “What do you know about the Strigoi?”

“I’m an Alchemist,” said Sydney, more patiently that she had last time round. “Look, I know it wasn’t of the usual dhampirs in the city, since they’re all pretty good about calling us. You, however, are new.”

Rose still looked suspicious. “Who are you?”

“Sydney Sage. I’m an Alchemist. We cover up for vampires in the human world so that no humans can be tempted towards immortality.”

Rose’s eyes had flown wide and her mouth had dropped open as soon as Sydney started talking. Sydney furrowed her brows, confused. Sydney couldn’t remember Rose reacting quite that strongly to her news last time.

“Did you say your name was Sydney Sage?” asked Rose, flicking her gaze over Sydney.

Sydney frowned. “Yes. Why?”

Rose shut her mouth. “No reason.” Rose wasn’t a great liar, and wouldn’t improve much in the next seven years. Sydney almost opened her mouth to argue the point, but Rose had already moved on. “What do you mean, ‘cover up’?”

“We use alchemy to dissolve Strigoi bodies when the dhampirs take them out, and if something’s ever found, we have connections to a lot of high-ranking people in both the Moroi and human worlds. So if something ever gets out, we can usually pay someone off to make it go away,” explained Sydney.

“You have connections in the Moroi world?” asked Rose, and Sydney nodded. She already knew what was coming; she could remember this well enough from last time. “I’m looking for this village – of dhampirs – in Siberia. It’s near, um, Om?”

“Omsk,” corrected Sydney automatically.

“You know it!” exclaimed Rose, sitting up straighter. “I need to go there.”

Sydney stood up. “I’ll be right back,” she said, making her way outside into the quiet. She was already certain she was going, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have steps to follow, no matter how reluctant she might be to do so.

She took a deep breath, and called Abe.

“Well, if it isn’t my favourite Alchemist,” said Abe when he picked up. Sydney could almost hear the smirk in his voice.

“I found Rose Hathaway,” she said shortly. “She’s looking for a village in Siberia.”

“Absolutely not,” snapped Abe. “She should be on a plane back home immediately.”

Sydney rolled her eyes. Now that she knew the truth, it was painfully obvious why Abe was so invested in Rose’s safety. “Look, I might not know her well, but she doesn’t seem like the kind of person who’s easily turned off her goal,” she told Abe. The only part of that sentence was a lie was Sydney not knowing Rose well.

“Then keep an eye on her,” directed Abe. “I’ll convince her.”

Sydney bristled at the order. For her, it had been half a decade since she had paid her debt off. For Abe, it was a debt still very much in play. Sydney had been silently following orders for a month and a half at this point, and she certainly didn’t appreciate another person bossing her around.

She gritted her teeth. Even if Abe was ordering her now, this was a decision she had already made for herself. “Understood,” she said, and hung up. Next, she rang Ivanov.

“Sir, I found the dhampir dropping Strigoi,” she informed him. “She didn’t know about Alchemists. She’s looking for a dhampir town in Siberia.” Sydney made a show of hesitating and taking a deep breathe that could be heard over the phone. “With your permission, I think I should go with her.”

“Why is that, Miss Sage?” asked Ivanov.

“Hathaway doesn’t know about Alchemists,” said Sydney. “The chances of her contacting one of us if she causes any more trouble is slim to none. If I accompany her, I can see her straight to the village without any trouble and pre-emptively prevent any extra work for the Alchemists.”

Ivanov was silent on the other end. Sydney’s heart hammered in her chest. She’d been allowed this last time, but it was possible that she had left too many breadcrumbs. “That is very brave of you, Miss Sage,” said Ivanov at last. “Very proactive. Very well.” Sydney grinned and thanked him before hanging up on him, too.

She had to get her smile under control before going back into Rose. “I know the village,” said Sydney, sitting back down. “But I won’t tell you where it is. I’ll be taking you there.”

-

It wasn’t until late that night that Sydney had another chance to think about Rose’s reaction to her name.

Rose was already curled up on Sydney’s couch, eyes closed. Sydney wasn’t completely certain that Rose was asleep, but she was still unwilling to check.

Why had Rose been so surprised at her name? It wasn’t like she had heard it before – unless she had.

But Rose couldn’t have come back as well. Rose would have reacted the moment she saw Sydney. So that left three options: Dimitri, Sonya, or Adrian.

She wondered, briefly, what would have happened to Sonya if she was sent back: would she have returned to her Strigoi state, or had her body restored at the point she was sent back, or would she be a Strigoi with a soul? It didn’t matter either way, Sydney supposed. If she was still a Strigoi, Rose wouldn’t have heard Sydney’s name, and if she’d been restored, Sydney would have heard about it.

If it was Dimitri who had been sent back, it would be equally useless, as Rose’s presence in Russia meant that Dimitri must have been turned. But Sydney doubted that it had been Dimitri, for he surely would have prevented himself being turned if he had been returned.

That left only one option. Sydney almost didn’t dare to think it.

Adrian had managed to keep the same phone number in all the years she had known him. She doubted that he would have changed it in the year before she met him.

The centre will hold, she wrote, and sent it before she could think twice.

There wasn’t a quick reply, and Sydney couldn’t really have expected one. It was the middle of the American day, and thus the middle of the American Moroi’s night. Adrian would be asleep.

But she still felt too jittery to sleep. Once upon a time, the first time she had shared a room with Rose, she hadn’t been able to sleep, or even stay in the same room, with the dhampir. Rose had been another faceless creature of the night, a subversion of the world’s natural order, and a dangerous symbol of what could happen if the vampire and human worlds were to cross paths again.

Tonight, however, it was for a different reason entirely. Rose was her friend (although she wasn’t Rose’s, not yet), and Sydney couldn’t sleep because of the swirling mix of anticipation, anxiety and excitement. Sydney couldn’t help tapping the side of the bed, unable to keep the excess energy in.

“Will you please be quiet,” mumbled Rose, turning over in her bed and shoving a pillow over her ears.

“Sorry,” whispered Sydney. She took out a book and began to read, trying not to think about Adrian. It was a lost cause, however, and after an hour, Sydney was forced to admit defeat and put the book down. She checked her phone: time was inching onwards, far too slowly for Sydney’s taste, and her inbox remained stubbornly empty.

Her phone dinged three hours later, and Sydney almost fell out of bed in her haste to get to it. She read the text and clutched the phone to her chest, feeling her heart swell.

Because we are the centre.

#sydrian #bloodlines #vampire academy #fic #watch me write fic for a dead fandom