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inkwolvesandcoffee · 2 years

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Ink & Rum Raisins (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

(Credits for the images in the moodboard go to their respective owners. The absolutely gnarly Anubis is by @/dugagau (IG))

Genre: Romance, Humour, Modern AU

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Alfie Solomons x Dutch Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12.3K

Warnings: a lot of swearing, Alfie being a gentleman, size kink, unrequited crush/love/lust (or is it? Also, I’m sorry, but the reader, like me, has a thing for older men), allusion to smoking/vaping, allusion to past violence

Summary: Prequel to Mokum Part 1.

Alfie

There was once a little dove, yeah, who found herself in a shithole of a place called Birmingham. Little brave thing that she was, she flew over the wolves living in it, looking for the one she had business with. Now, this wolf, right, was already an older chap, greying and with a bloody bad leg. He was, no, is the King of Camden. Anyways, the little dove found him and the wolf and her agreed upon a contract, according to which he provided his services. He soon found himself rather charmed by her, perhaps because he reminded her of days gone or because she awakened something in him, a reminder of a fantasy he hadn’t dare to fancy in a long time. And that’s why he coaxed the little thing into a deal.

Because he’s a selfish, in her words, bastard.

Caught between vice and virtue, unsure which of the two she is.

Y/N

I had heard the stories about the eccentric Alfie Solomons, owner of King of Camden Ink in London. However, when he announced he’d fulfill a guestspot at Shelby Tattoo Company in Birmingham, there was no way I could pass up the rare opportunity to be tattooed by one of the biggest (though infamous) names in the industry and get myself one of his gnarly yet gorgeous pieces.

In hindsight, if I had to do anything differently, I would have picked any other spot on my body but my thigh, simply to save myself from transforming into a bumbling fool. However, I would happily relive the whole experience even though it was quite... turbulent, to say the least. And, I’ll be honest, Alfie’s a bit of a bastard. Nevertheless, I’d do it all over again.

I wonder if butterflies see the potential danger in roses. The thorns, I imagine, could rip their wings if they come too close. Fancy could be their downfall. Then again, they never live long, do they?

Author’s Note: Oh my days, it’s at last, the first segment in the behemoth this Alfie Solomons romance has become. This particular story started out as a one-shot, but gradually grew longer and longer up to the point I now have at least enough of a story to write a novella.

Bloody hell, anyways, I made the reader Dutch because I’ve never seen anyone do that before (mind, I’m willfully ignoring the Dutch fanfiction I’ve come across because it was... not good, and that’s putting it politely) and since I’m Dutch myself and this tale is based upon actual events and conversations, I thought, ‘‘Well, why the hell not?’’

Also, this is the first thing I’ve written and edited since my thesis, so if it sounds rather formal or even academic in places, it might be because of that. I’ve yet to get accustomed to writing fiction again.

But, without further ado, kick back, relax, and enjoy the story.

Monster Masterlist / TH Masterlist

Having jolts of electricity shooting throughout your body and making your hands a bit jittery while your stomach seems to tie itself into a permanent knot is only natural when something exciting is about to happen. And as long as there is coffee nearby, the nerves can be fairly contained. In my personal opinion, that is.

However, when getting tattooed it’s better to not drink coffee before the appointment and let your emotions run wild. Now, I can only confirm for the former it helps the tattooing process because you do not want to start bleeding more than might be the case in a non-caffeinated scenario. The latter, on the other hand, is perhaps worse than a caffeine overdose. What also does not help my current case is entrusting part of my body to a man, regardless of his talent.

Another unhelpful detail is that I am about to go to a shop where practically only men work. Although, if I’m lucky, the two resident female artists have an appointment today too. We don’t have to have a conversation, interact at all, but it would make the environment more pleasant if I’m not the sole feminine presence.

Then again, I suppose I brought this down on myself. When I saw that Alfie Solomons would have a guest spot at Shelby Tattoo Company, I knew I had to get an appointment somehow. A holiday to Birmingham and getting a tattoo by a brilliant artist? Two birds with one stone, count me in.

Alfie has become somewhat of a celebrity in the tattoo community thanks to his art, inspired by various religions around the globe, specifically focusing on its monsters, demons, and other animal symbolism. The designs are gnarly yet awe-inspiring, the blacks stark and each element easily discernible despite the dark ink. For this specific guest spot he noted he’d only do flash and wanna-dos. Fortunately for the both of us, I’m obsessed enough with ancient Egypt to dedicate a part of my skin to the god of its Underworld and the dead.

The skin of my right thigh, to be precise.

And that’s where the problem lies.

For my other tattoos, I went to a women-run tattoo studio because I’m more comfortable with having a woman tattoo me. That is, of course, not to say all male tattoo artists aren’t to be trusted, because there are genuine sweethearts out there, and that women can’t be predators or walking red flags themselves. I, myself, have simply heard one too many tales of a woman being mistreated by a male tattoo artist to entrust them with the intimacy that comes with getting a tattoo.

Quite a contradiction, innit, considering the fact I’m about to let Alfie, a bear of a man, tattoo my thigh? Let’s call it a leap of faith, spurred on by incredible talent no one else possesses.

A sacrifice of principles in the name of art.

Sounds rather poetic when I put it like that. Better than ‘I want new ink and that Anubis looks fucking awesome. I want it. I’m gonna get it. Don’t care if I’m gonna have to travel.’

Yes, a sacrifice for art. We’ll keep it at that.

The bus stops on Victoria Street, a small straightforward walk away from Shelby Tattoo Company in Small Heath. Red brick worker’s houses line the wide cobblestone street, the occasional old storefront among them hinting at what the edifice was used as in days past. Stone steps inlaid in a patch of grass lead up to the main street, an older couple descending them. The woman holds firmly onto her husband, her arm looped in his. He, in turn, clutches the railing for dear life. Nonetheless, it’s a sweet sight, an affirmation Love and Romance still exist.

‘‘The destination is on your right. Shelby Tattoo Company.’’

I turn off the navigation and tuck my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. For a second I remain unmoving, merely looking at the handle of the door.

Breathe in… breathe out. It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be okay. Alright, let’s go!

The mental prep has done little to still the tremble in my fingers, but my racing mind becomes eerily clear when I push the front door open.

The single step across the threshold must have been noisy or his hearing is like a bat’s because my entrance rouses the bulking figure in the corner of the shop. He’s clad in a white shirt and jeans, his long brown hair tousled and haphazardly slicked back as best as possible.

The man spins around on his stool, the movement languid and wary. A brief silence settles in, a moment in which we look at each other quizzically. In fact, it might even be safe to say we’re trying to estimate each other, guessing at how much danger hangs in the air.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asks, a note of caution in his Cockney accent as he strokes his beard.

“I- I have an appointment. W- With Mr Solomons,” I stammer, feeling like a child caught red-handed trying to steal a cookie.

And that immediately shows how much of an actual threat I am

“Ah, Y/N! Shalom!” Alfie rises to his feet and swaggers over, precariously balancing his weight to hide his limp as best as possible. His broad shoulders block out the light as he comes to a halt, a polite distance between us. I tilt my head to look up, mentally cursing my genes for making me a head shorter than him and myself for the flutters of a butterfly storm in my stomach, caused by the height difference. “Welcome.”

He tilts his head and huffs, strangely amused. “I see you’re wearing new pants.”

“How- How’d you know they’re new?”

This is already getting sus. Maybe I should turn tail and run.

“I follow you on Instagram,” he says matter-of-fact and shrugs. “I saw you had a new Story, one about buying pants to get tattooed in.”

“You,” I point at him and then at me, still not registering his words, “follow me? On Instagram?”

“I do,” Alfie casually confirms. “If you don’t believe it, go see for yourself.”

He gestures for me to grab my phone. “Go on, check.”

My face pales when the follow button turns a light blue and states follow back.

Oh God, he’s seen my Stories. Seen my cat Stories. All the bullshit I posted.

Alfie leans in, the light providing extra definition to his toned arms, crossed firmly over his chest. “I don’t think you looked like shit. Those jeans look good on you.” The glee of being proven right melts into a curious pondering. “Boyfriend jeans, was it? Yeah… They look good on you.”

What does he mean by that? Is he flirting? Or is he being himself? I mean, I’ve heard he’s a bit eccentric, but what do I do?

Apparently nothing, because my feet are rooted to the spot, my mind erupted into pure chaos with not a single coherent thought thinking of walking out the door. So I remain where I am, still like a statue.

Until Alfie claps his hands. “Right! I won’t lie and say I’m not ecstatic about you picking the Anubis design.”

He turns around and walks to his station to grab something. After a quick search, he returns with two pieces of paper and his tablet. An expression like water has been poured over him to wake him from a dream passes over his face. A funny contrast with the warm gesture towards the worn leather sofa.“Where are my manners? Please, sit down. Tea? Coffee?”

“Ah, no, thanks. I’ve already had two cups of coffee and I don’t want to turn into a bouncy ball.”

“Water, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I printed the design in two sizes, the original and a smaller one. I think both will work fine, but I’ll leave the decision up to you. Also, I’d like my clients to fill in a form. It’s kind of a dossier, right, only accessible to me of course. It’s due to the new regulations on ink, you know how fond the authorities are of control and paperwork, and to document which ones I used in case you get a reaction. It’s also nice to know, in general, I have your consent to place the tattoo. All you need to do is put your signature on the line at the bottom.” He puts the pieces of paper on the coffee table and carefully hands the tablet and stylus over.

I look over the form, fill in the missing details, and sign the form. In the meanwhile, Alfie pours a glass of water, judging by the sound of an opening and closing fridge from a bottle rather than the tap.

“Piece of lemon?”

“Pardon?”

“Lemon? Would you like a slice in your water?’’ he patiently repeats, adding playfully, ‘‘It’s wonderfully refreshing.”

“My, what luxury!” I exclaim in a terrible imitation of a posh accent.

“I only want the best for my clients,” he says, though it’s unclear whether he’s serious or playing along. All the same, with a bit of a show, he grabs a cutting board, a knife, and a lemon from the net sitting in the corner of the counter. Sonorously, he hums along with the jazz song that plays over the speaker as he slices the fruit and adds two slices of it to the glass of water.

After washing his hands, he holds out the glass like a butler would. “Here you are, madam.”

“Thank you,” I say, cheeks warm. “Let’s trade. Here’s your tablet back.”

“What’s your email?” he asks after looking over the form. “I’ll send a copy to you. It’s always good to have a backup of important documents like this, innit?”

A brief flash of confusion passes over his face when I tell him the part of my email which contains my last name. Unable to suppress a giggle, I resort to spelling it out to not subject him any further to the difficulties of the Dutch language.

“Hold on, slow down.’’ He mumbles the letters to himself, the stylus making soft tick tick tick sounds. ‘‘Alright, carry on.’’

The last bit is evidently easier to keep up with. Everything noted, he turns the screen to me for a final check. ‘‘That correct?’’

I nod in confirmation

‘‘Alright. Now let me just… there. Sent.’’ The furrow in his brow smoothes out now the paperwork is done. Alfie puts the tablet on the coffee table, sits down and leans back in the chair across from me, thick fingers entwined. ‘‘So that’s how you pronounce your last name?”

‘‘Yep, but I do admit I anglicised it. In Dutch it sounds like this.’’ With a little mental effort, I temporarily suppress the innate tendency to use English. An effort well-spent since it earns me the joy of the look of utter befuddlement anyone who is not acquainted with my native tongue gets once they hear it.

“Okay, now, see, I did not expect such a last name after hearing you talk.”

I tilt my head, puzzled. “How’d you mean?”

“Your accent and last name don’t add up. Unless you’re married, but you’re not, are you?”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the mention of marriage. “Where’d you think I’m from?”

“Either Dublin and Belfast, but now I’m leaning more towards the latter.” A mischievous though well-meaning grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “You have a tendency to go down with your intonation and your speech almost has a slight underlying growl like they have in the north. Do you have family there?”

“None. I have no ties to Ireland aside from my travels.”

“Do you mean Ireland as one country or do you make the distinction between the north and south?”

It’s the Republic and the north, but I’ll let it slide.

“Are you asking my opinion on the border?” I ask, a wary tone in my voice.

“I think I already have my answer.” Like a pleased cat, he entwines his fingers only to individually crack them a moment later. “Anyways, let’s not talk about politics. It’s all the same, toffs unable to agree on what they think is a matter of the common people like you and me but is essentially a bureaucratic quarrel that’s nothing to do with the public whatsoever. Sharks eat fish smaller than themselves to survive. Big fucks small always.”

He clears his throat and leans forward. “Have you decided yet?”

“Well…” I start, overwhelmed with thoughts of the various outcomes and permanency of the matter.

Before I can make an attempt at a proper answer, Alfie picks up on my indecisiveness. “If you want, you can try both. We’ll tape both sizes to your leg and you can tell me which size you prefer.”

“Sounds good,’’ I say, letting out a small sigh of relief. ‘‘First, though, let me put my shorts on. Where’s the restroom?”

He points to somewhere behind me. “Behind the door with the chrysanthemums.”

I stand up, grab the pants from my backpack, and slip into the restroom. It only takes a minute or two to change, but nevertheless I find myself unable to go back out into the studio right away.

I bought these especially for today. Shit, he saw that Story too, didn’t he? And what if other men walk in, be it clients or tattoo artists? What will their first thought be?

A gentle knock on the door violently jolts me back into reality. On the other side, a familiar baritone voice calls out, concern evident in the simple question. “Y/N, you alright?”

“Yeah,” I answer, opening the door a crack and slipping through it, “I’m fine.”

Alfie takes me in, gaze unwavering and expression unreadable. His body also shows no hints eluding to his train of thought. The peculiar investigation ends with a low hum.

What was that? Does- Can he read me like an open book? Is that what he just did?

Without knowing whether he did and hesitant to ask, I let the matter rest.

We move over to the large mirror covering the wall nearby his station. The tattoo artist makes a brief detour to his station to put on a pair of black latex gloves before sauntering over to kneel down. For a second I wonder what it would be like to cup his cheek, how his beard would feel against my palm as I’d turn his face to make him look up at me.

Part of the fantasy comes true, because he lifts his head. “May I?”

More than a second passes before I register what he means. Then I notice his hands a few centimetres from my thigh, ready to place the first design, the one with the original size. Instead of an answer, too afraid of what might come out of my mouth, I swallow and nod.

With precision, he sticks the piece of paper to my skin, smoothing it out to display its full potential. Smiling proudly, showing his slightly crooked teeth, Alfie rises to his feet and puts his hands on his hips. “What do you think? We could also mirror the design, but that would make Anubis face your…” he vaguely gestures, struggling to find the words that are polite enough. Evidently, he can’t find them, settling for “you know.”

I model the design, twisting my leg this way and that, all the while trying to ignore Alfie standing with his arms crossed in the background. However, there is only so long I can close him out so eventually I search for and meet his eyes via the mirror, furiously trying to hide my nerves under only a half-feigned expression of exhilaration. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to try the other size?”

I turn around, forcing myself to maintain his gaze. “I’m a fairly small person, so I think the size is just right.”

“No mirroring?”

“Nah, let’s keep it classy.”

The low chuckle rising from the depths of his throat ignites a pleasant warmth that spreads throughout my body. “If the lady says so. I’ll get everything ready, so sit back with a snack or, if you want, there’s plenty of time to go outside for a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke, so I’ll go with the former,” I say as I plop down on the worn leather couch.

“That’s likely the better option of the two. Nicotine and tobacco are vices, ones I’m only too guilty of indulging in. Although, I’ve recently switched to vaping. Less stank, less laundry, better for the environment and clients.”

“I don’t mind the smell of cigarettes too much, but I do admit I prefer the smoke of vaping above that of regular smoking. Sometimes it smells quite good, actually. Kinda sweet.”

“Depends on the cartridge. See, like whiskey, yeah, the flavour is dependent on the environment, the way it is brewed. I prefer rum myself, though.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

Alfie turns away from the printer busily cranking out the stencil. “You never had rum?”

I shake my head. “I generally don’t drink, but if I do, I tend to stick to my favourites. Licor quarenta y très, amaretto, limoncello, Guinness, whiskey.”

“Irish or Scottish?”

“Generally Irish.”

“Of bloody course,” he chuckles. “My family has a rum distillery, based near London, but we sell the stuff throughout the country in shops run by family members, of course. There’s one in Birmingham, so if you tell them I sent you, I’ll make sure there’s a bottle ready for you. Free of charge, of course, because it’s the least I can do to save you from that sin.”

“The sin of not knowing the taste of rum?”

“Exactly! When are you leaving England?”

“Tomorrow. And, unfortunately, I only have hand luggage, so there is no way I could take the bottle with me.”

“Hm, that’s too short notice…”

“We can make good on this later? I mean, this isn’t the last time I’ll be in England.” I cross and uncross my legs, feeling rather self-conscious. “Or we could meet at a convention? I don’t know whether you’ll be attending one in Holland any time soon, but-’’

“I’ll be attending the Amsterdam Tattoo Festival in September,” he interrupts me, fortunately saving me from having to finish a sentence I don’t know how to continue. “We could meet then, if you’d like? Or are you planning to go to the London Tattoo Show?”

“Unfortunately, I have to skip that one since I don’t think my bank account will allow it. Especially considering I’m planning to quit my job soon and do some travelling around Scotland and Northern Ireland for about a month, which won’t be cheap.” He mumbles something under his breath in response, the words bleeding into each other to form an incoherent mess. However, the disagreeing tone is a hint that he disapproves of something, whatever it might be. “But I’m planning to go to Amsterdam too, so, could we- we could-’’

Stop being such a coward. Just ask already, for God’s sake!

“I’d like that,” Alfie cuts in as if he’s read my mind. Stencil in hand, he turns back to me, his features soft. “Gives me plenty of time to make good on my promise.”

We return to his station, a polite distance between us. Alfie sits down on the stool and grabs a disposable razor, which he puts down again with a hint of slight surprise after inspecting my leg. “Already shaven, eh?”

I run a hand through my hair while my stomach quivers. “Yeah. I thought it would be polite. Also, I can’t stand my legs being hairy. My arms neither.”

“I wish more people had that mentality. Then again, humans tend to be selfish creatures,’’ he grumbles while pulling on a new pair of gloves.

“Are there really that many clients who don’t shave?”

“More than you think, darling, but it makes me all the more appreciative of clients like you.”

The ‘darling’ means nothing. Stop being a fucking idiot and don’t get your hopes up. He literally just confirmed you’re just a customer, a source of income.

“Right, before we start, would you like to use numbing cream? We could also use nutmeg oil, if you’d like.”

“Nutmeg oil?”

“It’s completely vegan and helps relieve the pain,’’ Alfie explains. ‘‘It has quite a strong scent, though, so I hope you’re not faint of heart. Or, rather, have a sensitive nose.”

For a moment, I contemplate the options, weighing past experiences against each other. Thus far, line work has never been a problem and blackwork hasn’t been either. “D’you know what? Let’s go without.”

“Tough as nails,” he says with a hint of awe and appreciation. “You’re full of surprises, in’t ya?”

“Am I?”

“So far, yes. A young Dutch woman with a misleading Irish accent wants a gnarly scowling Anubis on her thigh whereas her other tattoos are colourful and less gnarly. One can only speculate regarding her story.” He grabs a big pot with the image of a geisha and red lettering on it, unscrews the lid, and scoops out a dollop of the stuff within to put on the side of his gloved hand. “This is Dragon’s Blood. It helps calm the skin and closes pores. It can be used as aftercare too.”

He screws the lid on again and puts the pot back in place. “May I?”

I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“May I touch your thigh and prep the skin?” he clarifies, his slightly crooked teeth showing.

“Oh, right, right! Yes, of course,” I answer, stumbling over the words and barely refraining from breaking out into a ramble.

Alfie picks up some of the balm with his fingers and leans in to work it into the skin. At first he tries to do it without support, but quickly finds himself struggling a bit. “Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?” he asks, looking up with sincere greyish blue eyes. “It’s easier to work it in if there’s a bit of resistance and support.”

Wow, he has really pretty eyes. But then again, even a rose has thorns.

“Y- Yeah, sure.”

“Are you agreeing because you want to or because you’re feeling intimidated?”

The question catches me off-guard, its thoughtfulness rendering me speechless.

“Y/N,” Alfie sighs, “I have no ill intentions. I’m a man of honour, one who believes a woman should be treated with the utmost respect. So let me ask you again and I want you to look me in the eye, yeah, as you give me an honest answer. Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?”

“Yes,” I answer, steady. “Yes, it is.”

He grunts in acknowledgment before placing the palm of his other hand on my skin too.

Though light in touch, the supporting grip nevertheless feels sturdy and the warmth seeping through the latex of his gloves secure. I can vaguely hear myself hum at the thought of holding his hand as we walk through Amsterdam in summer, the temperature still high enough to feel hot and clammy but with the unmistakable first signs of autumn setting in. Halfway through the month, it will become colder, especially at night if you keep the windows open. Then, to have a grip like that on your body, your skin warmed by the friction as the whiskers of a coarse yet soft beard worship it, and a baritone voice in your ear that occasionally falters with pleasure…

The sensation of cold liquid on my skin snaps me out of my reverie. I snap my head down to see where it comes from, only to discover I apparently zoned out and Alfie has cracked on to the stencil stuff.

“Try to relax your leg,” he gently coaxes while trying to apply the stencil.

I take a deep breath and do as he says, forcing my muscles to lose their tension. Although it doesn’t feel like I’m loosening up, I’m apparently doing something right enough to earn myself an oddly prideful whispered “attagirl”. Fortunately, Alfie is blissfully unaware of the fact I heard him and the storm of butterflies the compliment unleashes in my stomach. Nor does he seem to catch on to how badly the pressure of his hands, finally having found the right placement, makes my mind short circuit.

“Go take a look in the mirror,” he says after meticulously peeling the stencil off.

Even the mere outline of the Egyptian god of death looks menacing. Anubis bares his fangs as sharp as daggers, viciously snarling at the viewer. ‘‘Don’t come near me. Don’t even dare to speak to me lest you want me to feed your heart to Ammit’’ he seems to warn.

It’s absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

‘‘Let’s do it!’’ A skip in my step, I walk back to the massage table, which Alfie has covered with an electric blanket. It has heated to a pleasant temperature, not too low yet not high enough to break out into a sweat. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to say it makes you feel all warm and toasty.

‘‘Well, if the lady truly is ready, then who am I to deny her ink any longer?’’ Alfie says, barely able to suppress his amusement. Nevertheless, it shows in the theatrical attitude in which he continues. ‘‘Before we begin, my lady, may this old chap indeed have the ‘onour of tattooing you?’’

‘‘Yes, indeed you may, mister Solomons.’’

‘‘Marvellous.’’

The bell by the door tinkles as a long-faced, clean shaven young man, in his early to mid-twenties, walks into the studio. His casual step gives away he’s one of the resident artists, lost in thought as he hangs his jacket next to mine on the coat rack. He throws the hood of his black hoodie back to reveal muzzled short brown hair the colour of milk chocolate and runs his hand through it, tousling the locks even further.

“Why are you so early?” Alfie throws a look over his shoulder at the newcomer.

The question seems to catch the other man off-guard, the pensive expression on his boyish face fading into surprise. “I have an appointment, half sleeve, Japanese style. It’s going to be a koi pond.”

“Right,” Alfie scoffs. “I hate koi fish. Can’t stand drawing them, right, because it’s always the same composition, the same old story.”

“Is that really your reason?” the other asks as he approaches and comes to a halt a step away from where I’m lying. A whiff of fresh cologne hits my nose, mixed with the indescribable smell of rain.

“Nah, mate. I don’t really have a ‘reason’. Simply hate the fuckers. I prefer things that have a bit more life to them, a higher intellect that prevents them from smacking their lips like eternal gluttons. Gluttony is a sin, you know.” Alfie perks up as if he’s remembered something and shifts his attention back to me. “Right, this here is Michael, a show-off.”

So that’s Michael Gray. Strange, I thought he’d be older and more… tough, rough-looking, instead of a lad I could easily cross paths with at the bookshop. In fact, wait, didn’t I see him at Waterstones yesterday?

“Just because you don’t do Japanese-’’ Michael starts, but Alfie cuts him off.

“And a bloody pacifist.”

“I saw your work on Instagram.” To delay or, rather, hopefully stop a fight from breaking out between the two, I speak up before the two can continue catfighting. “It’s really cool. I’ve started warming up to the Japanese style because of your designs.”

Cheeks flushed, he rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. You know, if you ever have an idea, send it my way.”

Alfie rolls his eyes, which earns him a venomous glare from Michael. “This is how you hold a proper conversation instead of being a cunt.”

“You see, the problem, right, is that so many people have said I am a cunt I don’t fucking care. Because they were all hypocrites, yeah. So, Michael, who’s the real one here, eh?”

My gaze flits from one man to the other while I tense up, ready to jump off the table and run for the hills if the situation worsens. And it’s likely it will because each man seems more than ready to lash out at the other.

Although I don’t think he’ll notice, I shake my head at Michael. Among the two, he is the most approachable and likely to listen at the minute, so I mentally cross my heart and pray he notices my silent plea to stop fighting. Although it’s Alfie who started it, I wager Michael is mature enough to walk away. At least for now. Afterwards, both men are free to tear each other to pieces.

Fortunately, he sees me. Lips pulled into a straight line, Michael skulks off to his own station, glowering.

Thank God.

I take a couple of deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat. That was a close call, too close.

“Bad blood?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘‘I don’t mean to pry.’’

“Ah, the boy’s just cross ‘cause Tommy and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. Chap adores him. A little too much, if you ask me, but someone’s got to be the good little soldier, right?” Alfie checks the set-up once more to ensure everything is in place. Now that the threat of imminent conflict has proven false, he, too, relaxes. The tenseness in his muscles fades, his body loosening up. His shoulders lower and he unclenches his jaw, releasing the strain on it.

The last remnant of sharp biting sarcasm has evaporated when he turns back to me, gloved hands in his lap. “Comfy?”

“Incredibly so. I could curl up and take a snooze.”

“That would make my job easier.” He picks up the wireless tattoo machine from the tray, eyes still trained on me, watching out for any withdrawal of consent. “May I?”

I nod, allowing him to touch and stretch the skin. “Okay, let’s first do a line, yeah, to see how it feels. Ready?”

“Yep.” Sheepishly, I give him a thumbs-up.

Alfie shakes his head, chuckles and murmurs something under his breath before he sets to work.

Every time you get new ink you tend to think you can still remember the feeling of being tattooed and instantly adjust. However, the opposite is true, at least for me. At first, it’s an unpleasant nagging sensation like someone is dragging a sharp-edged though blunt object to and fro over your skin. This only lasts for a few seconds and then gradually fades to an oddly therapeutic feeling that is near impossible to describe. Yes, I’m being poked by multiple needles constantly yet it doesn’t hurt. I wouldn’t say it’s enlightening, but it is calmingly enough to stop the on-going flow of various thoughts which consist of everything at the same time. Tattooing brings order in the chaos and is the best therapy out there.

“How’s that?” Alfie asks.

“Good. Well, I mean, it’s like my cat has its claws in my thigh and by this time, I’m used to that.” I let out a sheepish giggle, only to mentally slap myself in the face for being awkward.

“What’s its name?”

“I have two, actually. One is called Saul and the other Solomon. Not really names you’d expect for a cat, but they’re big.” I try to indicate the size of them with my hands, my heart skipping a beat as he takes a second to pay attention. “Big lads.”

“Solomon was a prophet according to the Talmud, a man of great wisdom and power. Now, Saul was the first king of Israel. Great man, too, who knew that he who lives by the sword, dies by it. I suppose Anubis knew this too, weighing hearts and deciding who gets to go on a boat trip to the underworld or eaten alive. Well, as alive as a spirit can be.”

“Unfortunately, the boys haven’t a sliver of wisdom between them, unless it concerns the knowledge of being charming enough to earn themselves a treat. However, they’re bloody powerful if the need to cuddle strikes. They’ll literally attempt to take me hostage, regardless of what I’m doing at that very moment. But on a different note, it sounds like you know a lot about religion.”

“I tried theology in university, but that didn’t get me far. Doesn’t help I had a couple fights with some Italian kids, Catholics, who saw themselves above a Jew. The last one that saw me kicked out was perhaps my most brutal.” For a second he seems to continue the story, but thinks better of it at the last minute. Instead, a low grunt rises from his throat. “Yeah, definitely the most brutal, that one was.”

Though he tries to move past the topic, I’m not quite ready to let it go. Being a curious cat isn’t particularly a good thing to be when it comes to people because it can go both ways once they realise you’re after a piece of their story. Nevertheless, my curiosity is peaked and therefore I can't help myself. “I’m glad the fights in the classroom remained at heated debates. But, um, and I don’t mean to pry, but how did that fight go? The final one, I mean.”

If I don’t get an answer, it’s fine. I won’t push. Nevertheless, I eagerly hold out hope to get the story out of the enigmatic mister Solomons.

Alfie.

Don’t blush! Take a sip of water, cool down. My God, is even his name now getting me hot under the collar?

He pauses and sits up. A tentative smile builds on his lips as his brows furrow.

“Only if you want to, of course.”

“Do you really wanna know? Ladies should be spared the violence of the world.” The lines in his face deepen, the expression changing to a frowning grimace.

“It can’t get any worse than Jack the Ripper.” He blinks a few times, letting my comment sink in. In the meanwhile, I bite my lip, desperate to find a way to redeem myself. “What? Am I weird for being intrigued by the case? I am, aren’t I? You know what, don’t mind me. Guess I’m being rather silly.”

“No, you’re not. I’m simply surprised the little lady harbours a fascination with the obscene,” he answers, his tone devoid of any form of judgement.

“Don’t get a lot of those clients?”

“None who admit it outright.”

“Well, here I am.”

“So you are.” His eyes are fully focused as he gazes at me, which does about as little to lower my racing pulse as the comment that follows. “I wonder what else goes on in that head of yours.”

“It’s chaos, to be honest. I don’t think you actually wanna know. Anyways, the fight.”

“Right,” he murmurs, his eyes still trained on me and trying to imagine what goes on in my head. Needles cleaned and dipped in ink again, he returns to work and tells the story. “I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian. I pushed his face up against a trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking-’’ the snarl on his lips vanishes as he throws me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I shouldn’t swear in the company of a lady.”

“I don’t mind. You’re literally saying this to someone who has the mouth of a sailor.”

The remark is a small comfort to him. Alfie visibly relaxes, his posture loses most of its tension and his jaw slackens. “Right, I shoved a six-inch nail up his nose and I hammered it ‘ome with a duckboard.” The corners of his mouth curl into a sly grin. “It was fucking biblical.”

“Fucking hell, yeah, okay, now I’m really glad I only have had to deal with debates. Jesus.” I shake my head, caught between believing the story and finding it too far-fetched. “Why, though?”

“He had it coming. Little fucker was harassing girls of the nearby Jewish community. They mightn’t been part of mine, but it’s never right to mistreat a woman. So, one day, I caught him doing it again and made sure he’d be a wiser man for it.”

“Did you get caught?”

“I got arrested for ‘grievous bodily harm’, but didn’t go to jail considering I was still a young chap. And, to be honest, from a well-connected family.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Dang.”

“I’m not as violent as I used to be. It’s all behind me now,” he blurts out, pausing again while the words rush to fill a non-existent gap between us. “No more fights, gangs, or firms. Starting tattooing was me turning a new leaf.”

I don’t know what to say, unable to think of anything appropriate while also trying to figure out his intentions. So I merely stare at him, blankly.

His eyes flit from me to the ink pots and back to me, likely feeling equally as awkward.

Neither of us initiates further conversation, me partially because I’m starting to doze off. That is, until Alfie stops and throws me a look. “I’m almost done with the linework. You’re still okay?”

“Yeah, no pain at all,” I say, a slight taper in my voice and half asleep. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” he replies, a little unsteady as well. “Let’s finish it and ‘ave a little break, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“It’s good to have something to occupy yourself with outside work.” Alfie saunters over to where I’m sitting on the worn leather couch and puts a plate on the coffee table. On it, golden brown raisin buns are stacked in a charming little heap. “Want one?”

“Wait, you made these?” I put my phone away, conscious to neither cross my legs or rest my arms on my thighs as I lean in. My friends will have to wait a little longer on a tattoo update.

“I did,’’ he says, sitting down where he sat earlier today. ‘‘Learned the baking trade from me mum who learned it from her mother, my babushka.”

“You have Russian heritage?”

“I do. My mother fled to England during the Holocaust. My old man was running a distillery and was willing to take her in. In a sense, they saved each other. She got him off the drink… for a time, and kept the books. He taught her English and gave her a ‘ome.” He leans back in his chair, fingers entwined. “Yeah, funny that, how such horror can bring souls together.’’

“Did they survive the war? Like, no interference from the Nazis or fascists?” I stiffen when it hits me how intrusive the question is. Badly concealing my panic, I hastily add. ‘‘You don’t- You’ve already told me so much, so, uhm, you- you don’t have to tell me anything else.’’

“They did,” he nods sagely, ignoring my anxious outburst. “Though I’m glad they don’t have to deal with current affairs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. They’ve been dead for a while, died in their sleep, two months between them. Regardless of the war and England’s policy towards anyone that isn’t one of them, they’ve lived a good life. It was simply their time to go.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “What about you?”

“How’d you mean?”

“How’s your family?”

“Not particularly close. I try to avoid father’s side of the family at all costs because they’re these posh- toffs, I think you call them in English. Though, that’s more my father’s sister. His brother is an alcoholic and divorcee with a midlife crisis that’s bigger than my father’s. On mother’s side of the family, I’m only close with my aunt and grandpa. With my mum I try to connect at times, but it’s more like friendly co-existence.”

“Any siblings?”

“A younger sister. Not particularly close with her either.” I shake my head and take a sip of water. “But I don’t mind. I’ve learned how to be a lone wolf and accepted being one. Working, studying, and travelling help with that too. They’re likely the only things preventing me from going insane.”

“Insanity is a gift only given to few. The greatest minds were lonely even in company, the greatest visionaries those that had seen the world by themselves.” Our eyes lock, the strange but tender sentiment in his adding to the sweet comfort of his conclusion. “I think we’re both mad.”

Alfie nods to the plate with buns. “The raisins have been soaked in rum, family recipe. Try one.”

“Are they poisoned, Solomons?” Michael remarks across the room. Judging by the venom in his tone, he hasn’t moved past the conflict earlier.

They’re really gonna cut each other once I’ve left, aren’t they?

“Unlike you, kid, I actually provide service. People have bonded over food for centuries and God gave me the brilliant idea, yeah, to make these buns to share.”

“You never share food. Not with me, at least.”

“That’s because I don’t want a bond of any sort with you, mate.“ He picks up the plate and holds it out to me. “But I’ll always be glad to share with a peer.’’

“Thank you,” I say, though I can’t prevent myself from saying his name, “Alfie.”

Smiling brightly, he leans back in his chair. “My pleasure. But what is it that kills the time for you?”

“Believe it or not, but I sew,” I say while nibbling on the sweet bun.

“An affinity with needles, eh?”

Unable to suppress it, I give into the uncharacteristic urge to giggle. “You could put it like that, yeah.”

“It’s rather broad, though, ‘sewing’, innit? What am I to envision?”

“I make plushies, really bloody adorable ones.” I grab my phone and look up a picture of my latest project: a whale shark made with white, very fuzzy teddy and Delft Blue-printed cotton. “Don’t tell me that isn’t cute.”

I turn the screen to Alfie. The eager confidence doesn’t last because the tingle travelling through my chest, which seems to be weighed down by a heavy stone, ends in a chill down my spine. With bated breath, I nevertheless wait for a sign of his approval.

What the fuck am I doing? He’s a grown man. What would he care for a stuffed animal?

An ache starts at the back of my throat at the thought that follows.

I did post that picture on an Insta Story. Did he see it, though? What if he did? No, he did, didn’t he? I’m repeating myself. Why am I repeating myself? He’s had enough of a look.

However, as I make to put my phone away again, Alfie speaks up. “It’s well-made, especially for an early attempt at the craft. You can see it’s made with passion.”

Fuck, he definitely saw my sewing shenanigans on Insta.

“You already saw that picture, didn’t you?” I respond, mildly sarcastic regardless of his kindness.

“Well, we already established we follow each other and I like to get to know my clients as best as possible. So, yeah… yeah, I did.”

Gaze averted to the floor, I shut the screen off and continue to stare at my shoes, feeling like a stupid lovesick teenager.

“But it’s indeed adorable. You’ve got a knack for the trade.” His features soften when I raise my head, though there’s a hint of mischief in the raised eyebrow. “You’re no seamstress, though. Or are you?”

“If you want, I could mend your clothes,” I blurt out, the words spilling forth before I can give them a second thought. “Oh Lord, I- I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry, I should’ve-’’

Alfie’s hearty laugh cuts through my poor attempt to try and justify my idiotic bravery. “Fucking ‘ell. I had a feeling you’re not the type to beat around the bush, but that was more forward than I thought you’d be.”

“Please ignore what I said.” I stuff the last of the bun into my mouth, lest it should blabber any more nonsense, and wave a dismissive hand.

Only to nearly choke at his response.

“Why? I like it, this honesty. Now, see, Tommy, yeah, he likes to beat around the bush and it’s absolutely doing my nut in. I’ve told him before I’ll shoot him if he doesn’t hurry up and quit his little games. Man really needs to learn how to directly make his point, saves both parties involved a lot of trouble. But not you.” His tone turns pensive, the words clear yet strange. “Curious, that. How a little dove flies over the wolves.”

I remain quiet, because no reaction I come up with seems adequate to respond to his reverie. So we let an oddly comfortable silence settle in, lined with the addicting sweetness of rum raisins.

“These are really bloody good,” I say after a while, pointing at the plate on the coffee table. ‘‘We have buns like this back home too. We call them ‘krentenbollen’, which would roughly translate to ‘currant buns’.’’

‘‘Say that again.’’

‘‘What, ‘krentebollen’?’’ Evidently I hit the nail on its head, judging by Alfie struggling to imitate my pronunciation, silently mouthing the syllables. “Kren.”

“Kren.”

“No, no, ‘ren’. A pronounced, not rolled ‘r’ and short and sharp ‘e’. Like in ‘cigarette’, the final ‘e’ sound. Kren.”

“Kren,” he echoes.

“Ten. ‘En’ is pronounced with a schwa.”

“Ten.”

“Bol. With a clear ‘l’.”

“Bol.”

“Len. Again, a clear ‘l’ and a schwa.”

“Len.’’ Having been given an example of how to pronounce each syllable, Alfie tries out the word again, brow furrowed in concentration. ‘‘Kren. Ten. Bol. Len.”

A warm fuzzy feeling spreads throughout my body while watching him sincerely make an effort to mimic the Dutch sounds despite the struggle it proves to be. However, I do have to give him credit for his attempt because, despite his slightly wonky pronunciation, it’s better than some others I’ve heard.

‘‘Kren- Krentenbollen.’’

“‘Ey, there ya go!” I clap my hands, smiling in satisfaction. ‘‘That was really good!’’

“Dutch is a funny language. Very strange and harsh.”

“Apparently, it’s the scientifically proven hardest language to learn. I’ll be honest, even the Dutch sometimes don’t know how to speak it. The grammar is whack too, sometimes. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you can teach me some more next time we meet.” His eyes go from the buns to me, beaming. “I’ll bring you some more krentenbollen.”

‘‘Nah, these are better. In fact, I think I prefer these. Much more exclusive, an English delicacy.’’

Can I get any more lame? What kind of comment was that?

“Help yourself, but be quick about it because we need to get back to work. You’ve been sitting like a rock and I don’t want your adrenaline to run out just yet.”

“I’ll leave it for later then.”

He rises from his seat, throwing an imposing shadow over me as his shoulders block the light. “Before we resume, do you want anything? You still got enough water?”

“I’m good to go, though I wouldn’t say no to another glass.”

“One round of Solomons Lemon Water, coming right up.”

As before, Alfie puts care into the simple act of cutting a lemon and adding a slice of it to plain water. And with the grace of a gentleman, he holds it out to me. “A glass of water for the little lady. It’s on the house.”

Whilst the comment is in jest, a funny thought sets my cheeks ablaze. “Th- Thanks.”

What the fuck was that stutter? By Jaysus, pull yourself together! He’s only joking, playing around. It means nothing. Nothing! Besides, he likely has a wife, good-looking and charming as he is.

Glass in hand, I follow Alfie back to the table and clamber back onto the cosy electric blanket while he completes the last preparations to continue the session.

“Comfy?” he asks once I’ve settled in.

“Extremely.”

“Good.” He restarts his tablet, the screen lighting up with Anubis’s snarling face. A new pair of gloves on, he grabs the black pot with red lettering and scoops up a blob of Dragon’s Blood with his pinky before he sets it back in place.

“May I?” Alfie asks, hands a few centimetres from my skin.

I nod, giving him the permission to resume working.

Except, he doesn’t.

He pushes his stool back slightly and purses his lips. “Y/N, I need you to relax, yeah. Tense muscles aren’t particularly tattoo friendly. If I start working now, it’s like tattooing a stone and needles, right, don’t do well with hard surfaces.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, inhaling and exhaling deeply in hopes of unravelling the tightness in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What’s on your mind? Something funny?”

“Ah, it’s fine. No worries.”

Don’t mind me. I’m being silly, interpreting things the wrong way. Besides, I’m likely half your age. Unsuitable, undesirable for a man like you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” My breath tapers, which I hope he doesn’t pick up on. Then again, Alfie has proven to be a very perceptive man thus far. Nonetheless, a girl can hope. ‘‘I’m okay.’’

Please believe that. At least this once.

He lets out a low displeased grunt, blueish grey eyes dark with lingering worry. “If you say so.” He averts his gaze to the unfinished snarling Anubis, the sternness in his voice blurring into resignation. “Can I?”

I hum in response, giving him the sign he still has my consent.

And to keep up appearances a little longer.

Because when you’re crushing hard on someone you can’t have, it’s okay not to be okay.

It’s not unusual for other tattoo artists to pop by their colleagues to see what they’re working on. Normally I wouldn’t mind it, proud to be a canvas for someone else’s art. Nonetheless, this time, I wish it was someone else other than the resident Japanese style artist sauntering over. Anyone would do.

Tommy, who came in around two to do a touch-up.

Finn, who’s the youngest in the team and does geometric designs.

Even Arthur, who Alfie immediately sent away when he felt me tense, genuinely afraid of Cerberus personified, would be better.

Unfortunately, it’s Michael, which means the two might break out into a fight soon. It’s only a matter of time.

“Wow, that looks gnarly.” Maintaining a polite distance, Michael leans in to inspect the fearsome god of the afterlife.

“Oi, don’t you have your own client to look after?” Alfie asks, the first ripples of irritation already noticeable in his voice.

“She’s too busy taking pictures and whatever else she’s doing on her phone.” Michael points over his shoulder at his client and shrugs. I turn my head, doubting how bad the girl’s company can be. She is indeed absorbed in her phone, posing like most girls on Instagram and making all the familiar facial expressions. To keep things polite, let’s say that a tattoo isn’t what she came here for.

I scoff. ‘‘I see she’s one of those.’’

‘‘That’s one way to put it,’’ Michael sighs, but his expression brightens as he changes the topic. “What made you get Anubis?”

“Give the lady some space, treacle. You’re not yet drooling over her like some lovesick puppy. We’re trying to create a bloody masterpiece here, right, and art, yeah, art needs effort, focus, and attention.” A grimace treks over Alfie’s face, foreboding like a black cloud forms the prelude to a storm. “None of which I can muster with you around, mate. So off you go.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Go on, fuck off.”

“The fuck’s your problem, Alfie?” Michael raises his voice.

Oh Lord, here we go.

“My problem?” Fortunately, Alfie turns the machine off and puts it to the side because getting tattooed amidst a fight is the last thing you’d want. Unless you’re a lunatic. “My problem right now, mate, is that I have a massive disturbance in my work environment which prevents me from providing Y/N with splendid service and proper care.”

“‘Proper care?’” the other man echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Now that’s an awfully ambiguous statement, even for you. Proper care… Is that why you didn’t go on your usual vape break?”

“Don’t twist my words, kid. It should be an honour for a tattoo artist that someone is willing to wear their art on their skin. Y/N is doing me that honour so of course I wanna treat her right.”

“Alfie Solomons, the King of Camden,’’ Michael sneers. ‘‘The Jewish gentleman from Margate.”

“It’s never a bad idea to be a gentleman, kid. Hasn’t your mother taught you how to treat women properly? Then again,” a mean gleam lights up stormy grey eyes, “she did abandon you, didn’t she?”

Michael is positively fuming by now, looking red in the face and fists shaking with an eagerness to throw the first punch.

“Lads! That’s enough!” I bark, propping myself up on my elbows. “Alfie, that’s a fucking low blow and you know it.”

“How do you know it is?”

Is he fucking serious?

“Look at him!” Lips pulled back into a snarl not unlike Anubis’s, I point at Michael. “Obviously that fucking hurt.”

“So the little dove flew down, still not afraid. Although, her wings waver ever so slightly, don’t they?”

I gaze blankly at Alfie, puzzled by the comment, but quickly return to raging. “Shouldn’t you apologise or something? Or is that something men don’t do to each other?”

“Y/N,” I hear Michael mumble next to me, a tone of surprise in his voice.

“Fucking apologise or I’m out, tattoo finished or not.” I look him up and down, barely able to suppress the urge to spit in his face. “I thought I booked a professional, not some… some fucking bastard.”

“I’m a bastard?” he scoffs.

“People who attack others by using their personal lives? Yeah, that’s one of the definitions of ‘bastard’ for me.”

Both men are quiet, startled by my interference. They exchange glances, neither of them helping the other with their confusion. However, Alfie tries to solve his by making an effort to make amends. For the time being, that is.

“Right,” he begins, struggling to sound genuine. “My sincerest apologies, kid.”

“A little more honest,” I grumble.

“I shouldn’t have brought up your mother, kid. Clearly it’s still an open wound and you don’t need salt in it.”

Wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but whatever, it’s Alfie Solomons.

I shift my attention to Michael. “Please accept his apology, at least for now. I don’t want any more fights during my therapy session. You can rip each other to shreds after I’m gone, okay?”

A careful smile tugs on the corners of Michael’s lips. “Then I will, if only to not completely ruin your ink therapy. Seriously, though, Alfie’s not the only one who should apologise. So, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my behaviour. A client should never be put in the crossfire of a dispute which doesn’t concern them. Can you accept mine?”

“Afraid of me ripping you to shreds?”

“Uhm, maybe?’’ He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks rosy. ‘‘You do get kinda fearsome when you get angry.”

“The thick Irish accent doesn’t help, either,” Alfie chimes in. “If someone’s accent deepens, especially if it’s Irish, you better run.”

“How can you possibly be afraid of me? I’m a head shorter than you. I think you can easily have me.” I search Alfie’s expression for signs he’s lying yet end up empty-handed. The second thereafter, however, a surge of heat spreads through my body as the possible implications of my comment run through my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my wrists while trying to get comfortable again on the rather hot blanket. Or does it merely feel like that because I’m a mess? “Take me on, I mean. Have me is… ehm… It’d be easy to overpower, no, ehm, win? Win against me!”

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Michael says, hardly containing his amusement. Then he turns around and returns to his station. Along the way, he stops to explain the situation to the girl, who miraculously has managed to put her phone away for a second and show worry like a normal human being.

“I really need to learn to shut the fuck up,” I groan as I lie down again, a bit calmer. “Please forget everything I said.”

“Including your tantrum?” Alfie asks, a lopsided smirk on his lips.

“Just remember the apology part. Maybe the bastard one too.”

“If the lady so wishes.” His hands hover over my thigh, the machine still turned off in his left. “Can I?”

I nod, unwavering in my willingness to give him my consent. Perhaps others would have left, but I choose to remain because of the shallow reason he’s at least good to me.

Even if he’s not for me.

Funny thing, innit, Love?

A silence broken up by the whirring of needles settles in. The only other noise in the studio comes from the Bluetooth speaker, continuously playing jazz tunes. It’s the first time to hear the music genre in a tattoo studio since everywhere I’ve been before they seem to prefer hard rock and soft metal. I wonder whether it has contributed to their reputation as ‘the gentlemen of the Birmingham tattoo industry’ or it is simply because the oldest of the Shelbys are at work today.

“Y/N?” Alfie wipes off the excess ink and dips his needle in one of the little pots besides him.

“Hm?” I turn my head to face him.

“I’m sorry.” Though lacklustre compared to the apology to Michael, the words are sombre with pure remorse and don’t need reiterating.

“No more fighting, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Hey, by the way, what did he mean with you skipping your Vape-’’

“Tell me more about your cats,” Alfie suddenly demands, tone harsh and his gaze not straying from his project.

“Wha-’’

“Your cats,’’ he repeats, losing his temper. ‘‘Tell me about them.”

What’s gotten into him? Did I do something?

“Uhm, well,” I haphazardly begin, unsure what to tell him. “They are absolute cuddle bugs. They’ll literally go to any length to make me stop whatever I’m doing and give them attention.”

Don’t panic. Don’t cry. Be brave, just like before. He won’t hurt me… I hope.

Alfie closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, forcing himself to calm down. “Men are jealous creatures, especially when a woman is involved.’’

“Was that also the case with the Italian?”

“No, that was a matter of common decency.”

“The situation just now?”

He lets out a sonorous noncommittal sound, holding the middle between a disagreeing grunt and acknowledging hum. There is no way to know for sure nor is there a chance to ask because he changes the topic, clearly wanting to let the matter rest. “You’re still doing fine?”

“Is there a chance I can get another glass of Solomons Lemon Water?” I ask carefully, the hairs on the back of my neck still raised.

Alfie looks up, eyes warm and a soft smile forming beneath his bushy whiskers. “Always, darling.”

Amidst a storm of butterflies is a prematurely broken heart.

The remainder of the session remains calm, the conversations between us few. In fact, the only time he speaks up is to comment on how astounding it is I’m like a rock whereas people getting tattooed in the same spot might be having a hell of a tougher time. I merely shrug in response and blame it on my high pain tolerance.

Strange, how much more one can bear physically than mentally.

Although the fight earlier hasn’t affected the amiability between us, we both unanimously agree to settle for the comfortable silence we seem to create together. Occasionally, he sonorously hums along to a song when not glancing up to look for any signs of discomfort. Each time, I give him a drowsy lazy smile, still as tranquil as the minute before.

“Alright,” Alfie turns off the machine and claps his hands. “You’ve got Anubis looking over you from now on.”

I let out an involuntary yawn, quickly clasping my hand over my mouth to hide. “I’m so sorry. I was literally on the verge of taking a nap.”

“That’s better than fainting,” he chuckles.

“Does that happen a lot?”

“More than you think, darling.” A piece of paper towel in one hand and a blob of foam in the other, Alfie patiently waits for me to give him the green light.

Which I, again for the same vain reason, do. However, this time it’s bittersweet because it means it’s almost time to go, to let the long moment of pure relaxation and fun come to an end.

To say goodbye to yet another man I find myself fascinated by despite better judgement.

His touch is light as he applies the foam on the tattooed skin, his movement slow as he wipes it off with the paper towel.

“Now that’s gnarly, innit?” Alfie beams while disposing of the used towel and his gloves.

“It is,” I agree, bending my leg to get a proper look at the piece. “And I fucking love it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He gets up, walks around the table to my right side and holds out his hand. “Can we take a picture for Instagram? If the lady wants to, of course.”

“Of course, Mr Solomons.” He grows still, unmoving like a statue, while an indecipherable expression flashes over his face. I swallow hard, but my mouth remains dry. “Did- Did I say something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “No, not at all. Forgive this old soul. You get tired faster with age.”

“You still look fairly young to me.” I place my hand in his big open palm, the skin rough and calloused. His warm thick fingers easily envelop mine.

Stop dreaming.

“Just wait until you’re in your forties.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-three and already complaining about my back. My colleague and I wager we’ll be needing a walker by the time we’re thirty.”

Alfie lets out a hearty laugh. “Fucking ‘ell, lets hope not.”

We come to a halt in front of a brick wall, surrounded by tall lights. “Now, you stand there, in front of it, and I’ll make sure we get pictures nice enough to put in a frame.”

I lean against the cold bricks as he takes care of the set-up, shooing Finn and Michael out of the way and throwing a warning glance at Arthur even though he’s sitting with his back to us, immersed in designing. The only one allowed to come close is Tommy, whose beautiful icy blue eyes meet mine.

Awkwardly, I shift my weight from one leg to the other only to right myself and clasp my hands behind my back. It does nothing to help escape his scrutinising gaze. If anything, it has only worsened how self-conscious I feel.

What kind of stance is this? Fuck, I’m wearing shorts.

“That’s a nice piece of art, Alfie.” I try my best to resist the urge to flinch as the studio’s owner approaches to admire the piece up close, crouching down a polite distance away from me.

“Yeah, it is, innit?” Alfie agrees, switching on the lights. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re in the shot, mate.”

Without another word, Tommy gets to his feet and throws me one last pondering look before setting off to his station.

In the meanwhile, Alfie has lumbered over and crouched down in front of the lights, phone in hand. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

He takes a few shots, gives out a few instructions, and beckons me over to check them afterwards. Slowly he flicks through the images, his thumb slowly swiping over the screen. Had it been any other person, I would have paid attention and helped with deciding which picture looks the best regardless of minor differences. However, the musky scent of oud wood mixed with dark vanilla and the proximity of his large warm body, makes it hard to concentrate on anything but the man next to me.

“… one?”

“Hm? Sorry, what?” As if woken up out of a dream, I blink and look quizzically at the man next to me.

“I asked which photo you think is best,” Alfie calmly explains.

“Oh, uhm, well, the first one? I think that one was already good. Fine. You know what I mean.”

He’s in his forties, maybe twice your age. There’s no chance whatsoever. Don’t be such a bumbling idiot and pull yourself together.

“I’ll send them all to you later so you can look through them again.’’

“You really don’t have to-’’ I begin to protest, but find myself cut off by his determination.

“It’s no trouble. We created a bloody masterpiece, didn’t we?” Alfie’s face lights up. “So I’ll let you do the honours of picking the best representation of what we’ve accomplished.”

“Th- Thank you.”

Our eyes meet for a moment, a few seconds in which he takes me in for a reason I can’t fathom. Nor do I get a chance to think about what it might be since he quickly moves back to the topic of business. “Let’s wrap up your leg, eh?”

We return to his station, where he cuts off two pieces of Second Skin. He carefully layers them onto the tattoo after being granted his silent request for permission to touch me. An image of him grabbing my thigh and placing it over his hip while we’re in the sheets flashes by when he applies pressure to ensure the derma foil properly sticks to the skin.

Get your mind out of the gutter! Gods damn it, what the hell’s wrong with ye?

“Y/N, you alright? You’re looking rather red in the face, darling.”

“Yeah!’’ I blurt out, sounding annoying and loud to my own ears. ‘‘Yeah, I’m fine. Let me, ahm, let me just put my pants back on and we’ll- I’ll- yeah… be right back.”

I hasten to the sofa, grab my jeans out of my backpack and rush into the restroom. Carefully, I wriggle out of my shorts and into the loose-fitting jeans, only to recall his comment about the fit.

Was he imagining me wearing one of his jeans? Nah, he’s a professional, he wouldn’t do that.

My vivid imagination, on the other hand, thinks it’s perfectly fine to conjure up yet another intimate image of Alfie’s defined inked arms firmly wrapped around me, a slow but proud smile on his lips, nose buried in the crook of my neck, and me indeed wearing his jeans.

Snap. Out. Of it!

The mirage fades like sand blown away by the wind. I take a few deep breaths to ground myself and step back into the studio.

Alfie’s sitting in the chair opposite the sofa. As soon as I step out of the restroom, he turns in his seat, eyes futilely searching for mine. It surely isn’t the first time it’s happened he’s had a client fawning over him, considering his looks. Nonetheless, I refuse to acknowledge nor allow myself to show him how he affects me. So, still avoiding his gaze, I plop down across from him on the sofa, tuck the shorts back into my bag and fish out my wallet.

Fully focused on the notes in it, I lean in. “So, how much do I owe you?”

As a response, thick fingers firmly wrap around my wrist. I flinch at the contact, caught between surprise and alarm since he hasn’t touched me today without asking. Certainly not as forcefully as now.

A fact he acknowledges when he explains himself, retracting his hand. “I know I haven’t asked permission, but I wanted you to look at me and ask if you’re alright. You were in there for a bit.”

“I’m okay, Alfie.”

“Something tells me you’re not, darling.” He tilts his head, brows furrowed whilst he strokes his beard. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate. This topic, at least.”

Especially since I’ve only known you for a day.

“You don’t have to if you don’t fancy it.” The deep sigh he lets out through his nose, however, betrays his disappointment.

“I’d rather not tell. But don’t worry, I’m fine. Not sick or anything. My mind’s just… I guess you could say I was gone with the fairies for a bit.”

“Fortunately, they didn’t whisk you away entirely. I don’t fancy myself a man capable of going to the Otherworld.” Although he tries to be humorous, his smile is wistful. “Doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t try.”

“It’s difficult to come back, once you’ve set foot in Tír na nÓg. Anyways, let’s crack on. What do I owe you again?”

‘‘You don’t have to pay me.’’

‘‘You’re pulling my leg.’’ His expression doesn’t change, remaining warm yet stoic. ‘‘You’re serious?’’

‘‘I am. See it as compensation for having to deal with a hot-headed bastard.’’

‘‘Thank you, but this isn’t right. Like it or not, but I’ll still pay you.’’

“Despite the fight?”

“Despite the fight. So, how much?”

He names his price and I count out the notes. ‘‘Wait, that’s not…’’

‘‘Let me give you a discount if you don’t accept a full restitution.’’

‘‘Alright, fine,’’ I sigh, knowing protest will be futile, and continue to count. “Oh, and here’s another twenty. For the splendid service and, well,” I let out a shy giggle, “proper care.”

He hums and leans forward to collect the money. “In that case, thank you very much, my fair lady.”

My fair lady… my… his.

Though my mind is a million miles away, the rest of my body stiffens in reaction to the pet name. He notices, a note of concern in his question. “Was that too much?”

I wave a frantic dismissive hand. “No! No, not at all. Don’t mind me.”

It’ll pass, this feeling. Butterflies never live long.

Rubbing his lower lip, he mumbles something under his breath. The only words I can make out are “flustered” and “cute”, which doesn’t help with my mood whatsoever.

Neither does the mischief underlining his normally polite suggestion. “Want another round of Solomons Lemon Water before you go?”

“I’m good. Yeah, I’m- I- I should go.”

I get up and prepare to leave. Alfie rises to his feet too, falling into pace as we move towards the door. On the way, I grab my jacket off of the coat rack, putting my arm through one sleeve, but clumsily grabbing into nothing in an effort to put my other arm through the other sleeve.

A struggle quickly ended by two sturdy palms which help me ease into it. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” I turn away towards the door, ready to go before I make an even greater fool of myself. Then again, my feet won’t move, refusing to budge the slightest inch. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“A Jewish gentleman from Margate,” he merrily quips. But the amusement doesn’t last, fading into an indecipherable expression which seems equally as hesitant to end things here alongside something hidden. “Normally, yeah, I meet up with clients for pictures once the tattoo is healed. So let’s make it a date. Appointment,” he quickly corrects himself as a grimace flashes over his face. “An appointment, yeah, right, make an appointment when your leg has healed.”

“I think it will have to be by the time you come to Amsterdam.”

His brow furrows and he purses his lips, displeased. “I don’t think the convention will provide good pictures. The lighting isn’t that great and there’s all these people walking around.’’ The deep lines in his forehead smoothen out, a devilish smile gradually forming. ‘‘But I’ve booked an extended stay so, considering I’m not familiar with the city, we could meet up and you show me around? Unless you think you won’t be able to handle two days with a bastard like me.”

Don’t squeal. Stay calm. Don’t mess up at the last second. Calm and collected.

And unusually bold, apparently. Without wavering, I make a suggestion of my own. “Will you show me around Margate if and when I’m in England again?”

He chuckles. “Fucking ‘ell, negotiating, are we? I thought Tommy was the only one fond of that.” He scrunches his nose as someone else comes to mind. “And that numpty.”

“Hey, be nice. Michael’s a good guy.”

Alfie grumbles something under his breath, not shy to let on he’s annoyed by me siding with his colleague. Then, like he did before, he forces himself to repress the dangerous mixture of irritation and anger bubbling inside. “Tell you what, yeah, you show up in Amsterdam with your leg properly taken care of and I’ll show you around Margate. I’ll even pick you up from the airport.”

“It seems we have a deal,” I extend my hand, “Mr Solomons.”

Instead of a handshake, his warm big palm envelops my fingers and he lifts them to his lips. His beard feels ticklish against my skin, the whiskers rough yet oddly soft at the same time. “So we do, Miss L/N.”

Alfie holds the door open, plush lips curled into a knowing smile, and I step out onto the street.

A king’s promise in my pocket.

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#Peaky Blinders #Alfie Solomons #Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Alfie Solomons imagine #Alfie Solomons fanfic #Alfie Solomons x Reader #Alfie Solomons fic #Alfie Solomons x Female Reader #Winterfall

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concerningwolves · 2 years

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Hello

Just wondering if you have any book recommendations?

What's your favourite books?

Oohh *rubs hands* I'm never really sure where to start with book recommendations, but I can certainly recommend in the sense of "here are my favourite books" (●'◡'●) So —

here are ten of my favourite books / books that have left a deep and significant impression on me.

(all links are to the book's storygraph page. Series will link to the first book)

▶ The Stormlight Archive (series) by Brandon Sanderson. It starts with a soldier-turned-slave who struggles to protect those he loves when he and his friends are treated as nothing more than bait in a war; a young noblewoman from a backwater House who sets out to save her impoverished family via a daring heist; and a general who is being plagued by visions during storms, in a world where visions and seeing the future are extraordinarily taboo. It expands into an epic fantasy series that world-builds like science fiction, and puts a lot of care and time into character-driven plot arcs.

I'm particularly enamoured with TSA because of its meaningful (and sensitively handled!) explorations of trauma, recovery and mental illness; and also because the worldbuilding is so damn cool. [CW for alcoholism and addiction, mental illness (including POV characters with psychosis and PTSD), and violence.]

▶ The Wolf in the Whale by Jordanna Max Brodsky. An adult historical fantasy that explores the clash between Norse and Inuit mythology, based on the plausible idea that early Greenlandic settlers and Inuit peoples could have crossed paths. The story follows Omat, a young woman raised as a man for most of her life, touched by the spirits and watched by the gods of both the Inuit and the Norse since before her birth. It's a slow-paced, meandering story which focuses on character growth, finally coming to an emotionally fraught and explosive (but very satisfying!) climax. [Major CW for rape, threat of sexual violence, and graphic violence.]

▶ The Unwind Dystology (series) by Neal Shusterman. YA dystopia. [Disclaimer that I've only read the first book so far – I fully intend to go back to the series, but the first book had a nice conclusion on its own, so I left it there for the time being]. Unwind is set in a not-to-distant future where, between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, children can be "unwound". This is really a very polite way of saying "being taken apart so that every single part of their body is donated to someone else, but it isn't TECHNICALLY murder because they live on :)". The story follows three teenagers who've been condemned as Unwinds for various reasons, on the run and searching for a place where they can be safe. It's tense, gritty and fast-paced, and I devoured it in about two days.

▶ Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Adult urban fantasy. A man called Richard meets a young woman called Door, and is promptly embroiled in the bizarreness of a world beneath London where Tube stations, landmarks and urban myths are personified in surreal and creative ways. A world that belongs to all the people who have fallen through the cracks of "normal" life.

This is the book that catapulted me into being a Neil Gaiman fan and I periodically come back to reread it. I can't be in London without making at least a dozen references to Neverwhere and I wouldn't have it any other way.

▶ The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. YA Contemporary fiction. “Caught between trying to live his life and trying to run from it, Charlie must learn to navigate those wild and poignant roller-coaster days known as growing up.”

Perks is one of those books I deeply adore, but can't really say why. The catharsis, maybe? The deep relatability of feeling Other and being unsure why? Really I can best describe my feelings towards it as "unexpectedly comforting comfort blanket". That said, CW for child sexual abuse, alcoholism, homophobia and drug use, because it does go dark and go hard.

▶ The Girl with all the Gifts by M. R. Carey. Adult post-apocalyptic thriller. A cordyceps fungus has evolved to infect humans, reducing those infected into mindless, ravenous creatures called "hungries". The only hope for a cure lies in a group of strange children who, although infected, have somehow retained their mental capacity. When the military installation where they're being kept finally falls, one of these children, Melanie, sets out in a journey for answers across the ravaged nation.

When I say this book absolutely blew my mind, I mean that it blew my mind. It was first recommended to me on the basis that it is thematically similar to the game The Last of Us, which it is! But it also goes in some new and highly unexpected directions that thrilled me to the core. I didn't enjoy the sequel (The Boy on the Bridge) much, but Gifts is very strong as a standalone so that doesn't bother me.

▶ If We Were Villains by M. L. Rio. Adult dark academia/thriller. A close-knit group of drama students are put under pressure when one of their number is found dead. It's told from the point of view of Oliver, who admitted to being guilty for the murder and has just been released from prison. What unfolds is a story about rivalry, yearning, unrequited love and what it means to be a villain.

I picked this book as my work of fiction to study for my A Level coursework, which was all about the nature of heroism/villainy, and how language is used to create and represent these ideals. I find it hard to talk about without spoiling because I literally ate, breathed and slept this book for months, but it's just... there's queerness, and Shakespeare, and examinations of what happens when young people are put into very isolated social groups and told to become the roles they play on stage. CW for drug use, alcoholism, and a couple of instances of homophobia.

▶ The Humans by Matt Haig. Adult Sci-Fi. When a professor solves an extremely advanced mathematical riddle, an alien is sent to earth to remove him. This alien then inserts itself into the professor's life. Unfortunately, the alien hates every single person on planet earth except Newton the dog. Well, he hates everyone until he discovers a love for peanut butter sandwiches, Emily Dickinson, Debussy and, unexpectedly, the humans themselves.

This book is. It's peak comfort read. Just.. a warm, fuzzy blanket. Matt Haig began writing after his severe struggles with depression (which he speaks about very frankly in the end note), and in many ways the "alien is stuck living a human life that he finds repulsive" is very much a metaphor for depression. But it's also just a book about an alien trying to be human. It's funny, witty, and heart-achingly tender. Simply delightful.

▶ The Bone People by Keri Hulme. Adult magical realism. An isolated artist who lives in a tower in New Zealand finds an odd kind of friendship with Simon, a boy who tries to steal from her, and Simon's adoptive father.

I've been meaning to get a new copy to re-read because my copy fell apart while I was reading it. That was over five years ago, and it still lives rent-free in the back of my head. This book absolutely revolutionised my idea of what a story could be! It's a romance without being about romance, a mystery without being a mystery, and genuinely so hard to define in a particular genre. Which is very much the point! There's a lot about Maori culture and heritage, the influence of European settlers, sexuality and gender, and the kinship found between lonely and estranged people. The main character, Kerewin Holmes, is asexual and aromantic; I'm pretty sure that the boy, Simon, is non-verbal autistic; and his adoptive father, Simon, is (I think?) bisexual. Fair warning that the book does portray an abusive relationship between Joe and Simon as a core of the story and it's very dark in places, so CW for domestic abuse, ableism, bigotry, racism and homophobia.

▶ Of Bees and Mists by Erick Setiawan. Adult magical realism. A story about three generations of women living in a town where magic blends with everyday life in subtle, yet bizarre, ways. Meridia's home has always been lonely and cold, surrounded by a mist created by her parents' relationship. At sixteen, she escapes to marry the man she loves – and finds a new, equally insidious darkness in Daniel's home.

It's been ... I don't know, six years? Seven? Since I read this book. It was my first dip into magical realism and really opened my eyes to the possibilities presented by the fantasy genre. I'd never read anything like it, and I think it's really influenced the way I describe and write magic in my own stories. I can't remember it well enough for all the content warnings, but definitely CW for mentions of rape/dubious consent.

#book recs

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therealvinelle · 3 years

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I would 100 percent love a rundown of every vampire and how they would react to the option to be human again.

... every vampire..?

I guess we’re doing this.

Afton is more useless to the Volturi than ever. This changes nothing, in part because nobody notices. Afton dies of old age in a cry for attention.

Alec can have puberty?! Get tall? Have sex? Sign him the fuck up. Alec spends ten years as a human. Unfortunately it turns out he has the worst genes, so he stops at 5 feet and doesn’t grow an inch taller. He is Volterra’s short king. Even more unfortunate is the fact that the ladies still see him as a kid and would feel weird about sleeping with him, so no luck on that front either. (Somehow, Jane is both taller and gets all the hawt dewds)

Alice would not like this at all. Having a human is nice, that’s fun. Alice loves her Bella Barbie. Being a human? Oh god no.

Alistair’s whole thing is that he’s living as a hermit because he’s terrified of everyone and everything. If he became human again, he would still be a hermit, but lacking any of the survival skills or basic equipment that human hermits accrue he would quickly die out there in the wild.

Amun might just be the oldest vampire in the world, and he has been a god. Going back to being human would be too low, it would be the greatest humiliation imaginable. Hard no from Amun.

Anne was Victoria’s sister, the two girls were impoverished and Anne prostituted herself to feed them. Since she was executed by the Volturi within that same century, she would be returning to that same, horrible life. All the nopes, Anne gets her creator to turn her again.

Aro would be very practical about it, I think, and find someone to turn him back before the plague got him. Though I’m sure he’d be too curious not to try for himself the modern, global, human cuisine, so whoever was turning him has to sit by and wait while Aro drinks all the margaritas and eats all the sushi. And probably human flesh, gotta know what it tastes like from the other side

Athenodora has spent a very long time in that tower tripping on Corin’s gift. As she walks into the Volterra town square she has a full on Plato’s cave allegory epiphany, as she realizes that the tower was a fever dream and the real world is blurry and she doesn’t want to eat anybody. She comes to the conclusion that vampires aren’t real.

Bella would feel like Cinderella at the end of the ball, her beautiful gown turns back into rags and she’s an unworthy human again. Edward is overjoyed she smells delicious is fragile again and refuses to turn her back. Heartbreak ensues.

Benito invented newborn wars, he’s got a million enemies. He better become a vampire again immediately, or he’s dead.

Benjamin is the avatar, which is great. He lives in hiding because Amun has him convinced that Aro would enslave him, which is less great. Being human would not solve this.

Boris was living his best life being a fake Russian noble in the court of Versailles. Being a fake noble as a human is just not as fun, and he finds himself a vampire to get turned back.

Bree was miserable as a vampire, but her life wasn’t great to begin with. She was homeless and starving. I imagine she’d say no to humanity because she had nothing to return to, but this would be a survival move that had nothing to do with what she wanted in life.

Caius has no time for this nonsense, he turns back immediately.

Carlisle I’ve outlined in this post, but to repeat it here he is quite happy being a vampire, humanity has nothing to offer him. His ridiculously large network of friends would be put to good use once again as he tries to find someone who’ll turn him. (He has a surprisingly hard time, as no one wants to risk being the asshole who ate Carlisle Cullen. He eventually comes crawling back to a delighted Aro)

Carlisle’s creator is the lowest of the low, trash who lives in the slums, gets caught by humans, eats half a mob and then lets a newborn loose in the middle of London. This guy is a slob who does not have his life in order. Without vampirism, he starts shooting up under a bridge and dies within a few weeks. He does not get turned back into a vampire because nobody’s touching that.

Carmen would probably want a baby before turning back. The problem with trying to raise a human child as a vampire is that children bleed all the time. Eleazar Jr. scrubs his knee, Carmen goes full Cronus on her son, and Dostoyevsky is proud.

Charles... I don’t know if anybody agreed with my post on Renata, I for one think Luca is horrifying, and based on that Charles would turn back immediately because he’s not leaving Makenna on her own. Not to mention, Charles is one of the few vampires in Twilight who chose his fate.

Charlotte and Peter are living happily, thinking the Cullens are crazy for appreciating humans, so no changes there.

Chelsea might actually be a bit allured by humanity, since this way she can find out once and for all if she can form organic, normal relationships. However, she’s been a vampire for millennia, which makes it impossible for her to relate to humans. She makes no friends, and comes to believe that she is unlovable. She becomes a vampire again and, after an extended existential crisis, eventually becomes Marcus.

Corin would want to try all the human drugs. Gotta find out if weed is better than she is! Unfortunately half of Volterra is hooked on her, and she’s turned before she can find a good dealer.

Didyme would immediately suffer a brain aneurism, and die. Marcus becomes Marcus, but this is ultimately the better timeline since Aro can mourn his sister normally.

Diego’s life was pretty much over since gang members were out to get him, so he’s not returning to humanity anytime soon. Although vampirism means that now everyone he meets is a potential gang member out to get him (indeed, Victoria gets him), so maybe humanity would appear comparatively peaceful.

Demetri seems to be having a cool time being a vampire, so back into the ranks of the unholy he goes.

Edward, oh boy. I can’t imagine it, and I don’t want to.

Eleazar is a pretty self-righteous and sanctimonious fellow, I am sure he would not only choose to remain human, but talk about how noble it is that he’s staying human. He would not enjoy being human.

Emmet would be a miserable human, but to turn back would be to turn his back on Rosalie, and so he would dutifully remain, even as he grew to resent her for it. Once again I have a post.

Esme would not want humanity given the choice, but if she suddenly is human then provided Carlisle was as well, I imagine she would want to get a do-over. However, trouble is that if she wants to have a baby, then she’ll have to stick around with said baby as well. Sticking around means remaining human. Honestly, I’m not sure where that would go. Terrible places once Carlisle runs off to Italy, I’m sure.

Felix is another dude who seems pretty happy with vampirism. He sticks his hand into the first fanged mouth that he can find.

Fred is having a good time as well now that he has left Victoria’s army, no arguments here.

Garrett seems quite happy to be a vampire, although he enjoys new things enough that I think he’d want to spend a few years experiencing things from this human perspective. Alas, he’d have pictured the life human influencers and fictional humans were leading - it can’t be too far off, right? Well, real humans need jobs and housing and health insurance. One thing leads to another, and Carlisle finds himself bankrolling Garrett’s human adventures.

George is a seriously amazing guy who goes around pretending to be a demon called Astaroth and making fake demon deals with people. He’s an amazing conman, but his whole schtick depends on being a vampire, so it wouldn’t work if he were human. Vampirism it is.

Heidi apparently lived a terrible life as a human and was pity-turned into a vampire, so I don’t think she’d have any happy associations with humanity at all. She buys the first ticket back to damnation.

Hilda was a feminist bleeding heart who made suffering women invulnerable. Vampirism, to her, seems to have been salvation, with humanity a miserable state. Hard no from Hilda.

Huilen didn’t want anything to do with this supernatural horrorshow that killed her sister, and I imagine she’s one of the few who’d actually fare well as a human again, even though time has passed.

Irina drowns her Laurent-shaped sorrows in booze and men.

James would be furious with everything for letting this happen to him, and want to be turned back again.

Jane, like Alec, is overjoyed that she can have puberty again. This works out great for her. Like a middle school goth phase, she sort of pretends that whole 1200-year-stint as an actual twelve-year-old didn’t happen, going “oh, yeah... that” when it’s mentioned.

Jasper isn’t eating people anymore, praise Jesus. I think he’d actually fare quite well, he’d become a dusty professor in philosophy at some college and the violence would truly be behind him.

Joham is a monster and I imagine his children would eat him before he could get turned back. Good on them.

Kachiri is quite happy with Senna and Zafrina, she wouldn’t want that to change.

Kate loves Garrett very much, but there are all these human men she won’t have to worry about killing..?

Kebi was a slave who was chosen by Amun to be... well, his slave forever. As an unchanging vampire she’s stuck, but humanity could represent real hope for her, the only hope, really. Hard yes from Kebi.

Kristie is one of the two Victoria recruits who managed to turn the army into a high school, where you were either in the right clique or you were a square. Kristie is clearly an opportunist who’ll make the best of any situation, human or vampire.

Kumboh is a highly eccentric vampire who works in a mental hospital and gets attached to the humans there, to the point where he dies for one. This is not a man I can predict.

Laurent spent his existence in a pursuit of power without understanding what power is, and ended up stuck with the white trashiest vampires ever to white trash. Several logical leaps based on 18th century French Versailles logic later he endeavors to marry into the British royal family.

Liam is living quite happily with his wife and surrogate daughter, and even if he wasn’t then Siobhan is going to want her hubby back. And what Siobhan wants, Siobhan gets.

Luca is quite happy being the family patron who sometimes takes niece-brides (or family demon who keeps stealing their daughters), so he would want his fangs back. But, I’m sorry but I think he’d seize the opportunity to impregnate one of his descendants, because if this guy is all about preserving his family line then I can’t imagine he’d be able to resist a son.

Lucy, like Maria, would be in so much trouble. Honestly, I think Maria would eat her immediately. Easiest way to get rid of competition.

Maggie might want to grow a bit older and less emaciated before turning, but like Liam, Siobhan’s gift would see to it that the coven became whole again.

Makenna wanted vampirism once, I imagine she’d want it again. She seems quite happy with her life.

Marcus is finally able to kill himself. Happy days.

Maria would be in so much trouble. She is a human in newborn war territory, all the vampires around her have terrible control, and the ones with good enough control to turn her are enemy army leaders who want her dead. She is forced to make a phone call to Jasper and ask if he can put in a good word with Carlisle.

Mary (Carlisle’s friend), it’s been over a century and she’s still living alone. Sounds lonely, so maybe she’d be down for the change.

Mary (Hilda’s coven) is living that feminist liberation life with Hilda, and humanity would throw her right back into poverty and misery. Big nope.

Nettie would be eaten by Jasper, since Maria already ate Lucy.

Noela is a member of Hilda’s coven, meaning her life was awful. She would not want it back.

Peter is living happily ever after with Charlotte, it’s a good life. Peter does not want things to change.

Randall was turned in the 1960′s, so I’m sure he’d want some of that sweet weed again.

Raoul was a gangbanger and humanity is better off without him. So are vampires.

Renata had awful circumstances around her turning, and nothing to return to. Her human family either sold her out or were unable to protect her, my money’s on them thinking that her fate was a great honor, and either option makes them someone I imagine she has put behind her. As it is now, she has purpose with the Volturi, and no one is making her be anybody’s bride. She would not want things to change, nevermind becoming human.

Riley thinks he has found true love and glorious purpose, and would remain the way he is.

Rosalie would be delighted, but she has poured years of bitterness and crushed dreams into the dream of the perfect human life. Reality wouldn’t live up to her ideal and this time she can’t blame vampirism. I think she’d start drinking.

Santiago presumably has an alright time being a vampire, he has purpose and community with the Volturi. No changes here.

Sasha wanted a big ol’ family, turning first her niece and then women who resembled her niece enough to look like her sisters, so I imagine that, like all good Denali women, she’d seduce a sexy human male and give herself a few more daughters. Disaster would ensue if they were sons, or not blondes.

Senna is living happily with her girlfriends, let nothing disrupt that.

Siobhan’s life is great, with her gift her life will be as she wishes it to be, and she seems to truly enjoy being a vampire. It wouldn’t even be a question for her.

Stefan and Vladimir (no, they don’t get individual entries) are has-beens. Without vampirism, they would be greater has-beens than ever. This makes Aro’s century, and he makes it clear to the vampire world that no one is to turn these two back. Their lives suck and then they die.

Sulpicia is above pesky human sustenance, the mere thought is revolting. She accidentally starves herself to death.

Victoria would be at once more and less paranoid. Her gift isn’t going haywire telling her about all the danger, but she’s a human, so all is danger. I think she’d start drinking too.

Victoria’s NPC army recruits are newborns who love that sweet sweet blood, ain’t nobody turning their back on that.

Tanya would be so fucking happy, oh my god. She can bang all the dudes, and she won’t have to worry about killing them! She forgets that human women have to worry about STDs and pregnancies. Now she has chlamydia and a baby.

Tia’s big problem is that she’s stuck living with this ancient and bitchy loser who takes himself way too seriously. Vampirism on its own is great, she’s down for that.

Unnamed tracker formerly employed by the Volturi was relieved of his duties in the most “oops, you’re useless now” way possible. That hurts your self esteem. Becoming a powerless human would hurt it even more. Unnamed tracker formerly employed by the Volturi does not want this.

Vassilii would grow up, and have a host of issues because being a toddler with memories of bloodthirst and killing people is bad for child development.

Zafrina is having a great time with her girlfriends and her illusions. And it’s been a very long time since they were human, I don’t think anything remains of their culture. At least not anything they’d recognize.

Hope this answers your question, anon...

Edit: Added Carlisle’s Creator, Sasha, and Vassilii. If I’ve missed anybody else, let me know.

Edit 2: Added Bree, Diego, Frank, Kristen, Raoul, Riley, and Victoria’s NPC army recruits.

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queercore-curriculum · 3 years

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PLS go ahead and go off about qu. 1 and 10, i am intrigued!

YES, thank you so much for asking! And for the wonderful prompts, of course!

1. RQG characters are now the characters in another podcast you love. Whose places do they take, and how does this change the narrative?

I’ve spent a lot of time imagining the RQG characters in the world of Campaign: Skyjacks, which is my favorite podcast of all time. Here’s how I’d cast them:

Hamid as Jonnit Kessler. I mean, it’s a very clear parallel. Both have Big Protagonist Energy. Both are all about that coming-of-age narrative. Both are gifted at magic. Both have outstanding style. Both are known for vomiting. Neither of them can drink.

Wilde as Travis Matagot. Another extremely clear parallel. Travis is basically a nastier, more insecure, American Wilde. They are so similar, it’s fantastic. I’d actually love for this to be a crossover, and for Travis and Wilde to meet each other and just. Not get along, at all. Or maybe have a lot of sexual tension, who knows?

Zolf as Gable. Lots of great parallels here, particularly their crises of faith, their shared acts-of-service love language, and strong sense of responsibility for others. Also Gable’s old-married-couple dynamic with Travis is very Zoscar. All the existential crises, lol. I’ll also say that Azu could be a good fit for Gable as well—big, powerful, sweet, charmingly awkward—especially because Azu and Hamid’s lovely friendship is more in keeping with Gable’s dynamic with Jonnit.

I could go on and on about this, but my answer for #10 is very long and it’s getting late lol. I’ll just have to write an RQG/Skyjacks crossover or fusion at some point. Spéir is just such an unbelievably great world!

10. Invent a plot for a Harrison Campbell novel; fictional or from canon.

Oh my god I love this question so fucking much. I have a deep, unhealthy obsession with Zolf’s deep, unhealthy obsession with Harrison Campbell. I just think it says so much about his character—this idea that he thinks of love as something you read about in books, just a story that gives you comfort but isn't real. ZOLF SMITH I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

All this is to say, I’ve plotted out four Harrison Campbell novels:

When Passions Collide

Jennifer is a commercial fisherwoman who has worked on a trawler since she was fourteen. Her captain is an absolute garbage person and she barely makes enough money to live, so she dreams of one day buying a trawler of her own.

Richard is an apprentice painter who is making his professional debut at an exhibition in London in a few months, but he has yet to produce a painting that’s worthy of showcasing—all of his work is technically exceptional but lacks that spark of inspiration that brings a painting to life, and he wants to paint someone with a story worth telling.

One day he goes to the docks to practice drawing from life, and when he sees Jennifer he’s captivated by her physicality and realizes that her body carries this story he’s been longing to paint. So he chases her down and asks to paint her portrait, and while she’s skeptical she agrees when he offers to give her all the money he makes when the painting is sold. Richard spends the rest of the novel painting Jennifer’s portrait and getting to know her, because he needs to understand her for the painting to really come to life.

If you want to read more, you can find passages of my take on When Passions Collide in my fic Before a Fall (for which I created the Jennifer/Richard tag on AO3, one of my proudest RQG fandom accomplishments). I plotted out the entire novel and developed backstories for the characters and generally got way too into it, but I’m pretty proud of what I came up with and actually thought about writing an original novel based on When Passions Collide for a while. Maybe someday!

Love in a Time of Hardship

Violet and Rory have been friends since childhood, and Rory has loved Violet all their life. But Violet doesn’t have time for romance because she wants nothing more than to leave their rural community and go to medical school.

Flash forward, and Violet has graduated medical school and is now an infectious disease specialist. When an aggressive pandemic sweeps through her hometown, Violet returns to work on the team researching a cure. Rory still lives there, and still loves Violet as much as ever. Violet still believes work comes first. But when Rory gets sick, suddenly Violet’s work is personal, and she realizes how much she has to lose.

The Heart Beats Faster

An erotic lesbian romance that takes place at manor house party. I haven’t put that much thought into this plot, other than it’s definitely inspired by Think of England by K.J. Charles and has an extremely sexy scene in a greenhouse that’s basically the legendary “spoils of war” scene from the Drarry fic Transfigurations by Resonant.

Questions of the Heart

Ok so this one is pretty meta. But in my coffeeshop AU fic Coriander, Wilde is a novelist who’s basically writing self-insert fic about him and Zolf while sitting in Zolf’s café. And on an RQG Discord server I was talking about how I kinda ship Zolf and Harrison Campbell because that fan/creator thing they’ve got going on is rife with sexual tension, and my friend Rain was like, what if Harrison Campbell came into the cafe a few years before but Zolf didn't recognize him, and was also inspired to write self-insert fic about him and Zolf?

So the premise is, Campbell went into Zolf’s café and soaking wet from the rain, and this handsome, muscular dwarf gave him a free curry so he could warm up, and then defended him from a mean customer. And Campbell was inspired to write a novel featuring Zolf as a protagonist.

So he writes Questions of the Heart, which is a murder mystery/gothic romance with a lot of pathetic fallacy that’s heavily inspired by Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights (but make it extremely pulpy). Zolf’s character is named Jonah (lol) and there’s a femme fatale inspired by Sasha named Melanie (lol). Harrison Campbell’s self-insert is a Jane Eyre-type that Jonah defends even though they don’t really know each other. And the basic theme is that Jonah has some kind of idealized/overromantic vision of the protagonist that gets disabused somehow, but then he ends up falling in love with him for who he really is. Also there’s a Jonah/Melanie/Harrison Campbell insert love triangle.

Alright I’m sure that was WAY more than you bargained for, but thanks for giving me an excuse to be extra AF, this was extremely fun <3

#rusty quill gaming #rqg ask game #skyjacks #harrison campbell #rgq

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fuckwritersblock · 4 years

Text

I’ve seen a few posts asking for recommendations for romance interactive/visual novels and finally I decided it would be better to just post about it rather than replying. Note that I have been playing this genre for years but I also am picky. There are some games that I have played which I would not necessarily rec*.

Interactive Novels (Purely text based)

The Wayhaven Chronicles (Mobile, Steam)

Creme de la Creme (Mobile, Steam)

Tally Ho (Mobile, Steam)

**Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Mobile, Steam)

Visual Novels

Arcade Spirits (PS 4, Switch, Xbox One, Steam, itch.io)

Choices (Mobile)

Dream Daddy (PS 4, Switch, Steam, Humble, Mobile)

A Rose in Winter (Steam, Itch.io)

You should also watch out for “Best Friend Forever” (Switch/Steam/Itch.io) and download the demo. I also personally have not yet played “Butterfly Soup” but I hear great things about it.

If you want to know more about the games along with the pros and cons are for each game (in my opinion) check under the cut. but it is. Long.

Interactive Novels

The Wayhaven Chronicles - Fantasy/romance. You play as a detective who has been tasked to solve a murder in your small town of Wayhaven. You have been tasked with agents from a mysterious agency, Unit Bravo, to help you. But are they all that they seem?

Pros:

Sexy vampires. (This is not a spoiler it’s literally in the description of the game.)

The writing is incredible. Mishka Jenkins knows the tropes and uses them expertly.

The romances are all very good in their own unique way.

All of the characters are well developed and interesting.

There are two books of this series out!

Cons:

ACAB. And you play a detective at a station where there’s literally a state where you either are “by the book” or “bend the rules” so like. Not great.

There are two books out of seven for the series so know you will be left wanting more.

You can play as non-binary and there are a couple of background non-binary characters in the story but there are no non-binary romances.

Creme de la Creme - Adventure/romance (if you’re into dark academia, this is for you). You play as a student sent to a finishing school and are expected to bring prestige back to the family name.

Pros:

This plot takes some turns y’all.

You can play as non-binary and there also can be non-binary romance options!

There is aro/ace representation!!

Hannah Powell-Smith is married to a woman so like nice.

Cons:

There is some commentary that sometimes works well and sometimes falls flat. Mainly the critique on power and the upper class works well until the endings where many still benefit from this without characters putting much more thought in it.

Tally Ho - Comedy/Romance. Inspired by Wooster and Jeeves. You play a servant living in London during 1930′s. You work for Rory Wintermint, and must accompany them to their Aunt Primrose’s estate. Hijinks ensue.

Pros:

Light and fun and adorable.

Romances

There are some really funny moments in this.

Cons:

This was one of my first interactive novels and I have spent hours and hours on this game and there are still achievements that I have absolutely no idea how to achieve.

It’s a light and airy game so know that if romance is your thing, it doesn’t delve as deep into those relationships as other games on here.

You can play with they/them pronouns but there is no other non-binary characters.

Fallen Hero: Rebirth - Action/Superhero. You play a former hero that has started acting on your plan to become a supervllian. You must work against your original crew and that gets. Complicated.

(**Heads up, this is a very good game it’s not romance-focused. I also have not replayed it in some time. and other people could describe it better than I have. So if this short description sounds interesting, I recommend looking it up on tumblr + other areas.)

Pros:

Immersive and thoughtful small details.

The romances are complex and certainly not easy, but that’s certainly a strength of the writing.

Malin Rydén self-describes as “unapologetically queer”

Cons:

Not so much of a con but something yall should know! This game handles heavy topics as your character descends into villainy. Your character experiences depression and a variety of Rough Stuff. Keep that in mind if you are also in a rough place mentally rn.

I’m gonna be real with ya fam and I think this could just be me. There were multiple parts of this game that I felt lost in. I could not fully understand what was going on. BUT I also feel like in many places that is the intention for the character to feel disorientated so take that what you will.

Visual Novels

Arcade Spirits - Dating Sim/Comedy. You play as a depressed person who was just fired. You are convinced you are suffering from a generational long curse. Your phone matches you with a job at the Funplex arcade with various characters. Will you ensure the arcade survives? Will you find love along the way?

Pros:

this is GOD-TIER visual novel content y’all!!

The system that they use for stats are unlike anything I’ve ever seen but it’s leagues ahead. You do not have to be constantly monitoring your stats as you would typically for other games.

Made with so much love for the content and attention to detail.

Diverse cast that are all so fun and lovable in their own way.

You get to create your MC’s hair/skin/clothes color and then you’ll see them throughout the game?? WILD.

Cons:

BECAUSE this game was made with love and and attention to detail, if you have absolutely no interest in the world of video games you may feel detached.

The character creator is very limited. Which I do get to a certain extent with all of the different shots they draw the MC in. But I hope you want your character to be thin with a lot of angular facial features

Choices - An app where there is a series of stories you can play “chapters” of using keys, which replenish every couple of hours.

Pros:

It’s a very focused on modern romance stories, but there are also such a variety of different genres of books! Fantasy (Blades of Light & Shadow), Historical fiction/romance (Desire & Decorum), Thriller/Horror (It Lives in the Woods). I have PLENTY of recs if you hmu.

There are...Many a good romances in these tho like I have blushed and sighed and daydreamed about these stories.

Cons:

You need patience for this game. It’s a free app and therefore has a system where you need to understand the key system and be patient to collect “diamonds” to purchase premium choices.

Many of the books are gender-locked where you can only play as a woman.

Choices has been criticized that they need better treatment/more screentime for their characters of Color. They have said they are committing to do better, but we will see.

Same has been said about their wlw romances.

Just as there are good stories, there are also stories that have something to be desire. I have varying issues with some books that have plot holes, unengaging writing, etc. These are good for you to play to earn more diamonds though.

Dream Daddy - Dating Sim/Comedy. (This game was the talk of the town when it came out in 2017 but in case you weren’t in the genre at the time!!) You are a single dad who is moving with your daughter Amanda to Maple Bay. You meet other single dads and date them while also trying to be a good father to your daughter.

Pros:

This writing is sharp as a tack. The comedy is on point and this game does a great job transitioning into serious moments.

There are awesome little mini-games that you’ll find in these!

The characters of each datable dad first seem like caricatures, but their backstories are complex and have depth.

The character creator is chef’s kiss v good. AND you can play as a trans dad like how neat.

Cons:

There have been plenty of conversation about cons for this game but frankly I don’t truly believe it has a con for what it is.

If you’re not a pun person this game will be. Difficult.

A Rose in Winter - Romance. You are playing as Rose, a girl who determined to prove herself as a knight. She has found herself at an inn and must choose between a series of Princes to help on their journey.

Pros:

Cute stories!

Except for the green prince which is heart-fluttering. (and if you play, I recommend playing last)

Adorable art.

Cons:

This reads more like an ACTUAL visual novel. Your choice (besides the initial choice you make on which prince you pursue) means little, if there is choice at all.

It’s definitely simpler than other games on this list but that’s not a bad thing as much as you should know!

*Please know that I did not include The Arc*n* on purpose! I used to really love that app but the way certain things were handled (both IRL and in the plot) I would not recommend it now.

#the wayhaven chronicles #creme de la creme #dream daddy #a rose in winter #playchoices #arcade spirits #cog #hosted games #Let me apologize if you're going through these tags and don't think this should be in there #that's valid and I struggled with that!#however i came to the conclusion it's the best way for people who are looking for new things to enjoy to find something

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hms-chill · 4 years

Text

RWRB Study Guide: Chapter 1

Hi y’all! I’m going through Casey McQuiston’s Red, White & Royal Blue and defining/explaining references! Feel free to follow along, or block the tag #rwrbStudyGuide if you’re not interested!

Jack Ford (1): Son of president Gerald Ford, who was in college during most of his father’s presidency, but made headlines by bringing former Beatle George Harrison to the White House. The Ford children in general were known for causing problems for security and being in general more rebellious than other first children. (More)

Luci Johnson (1): Daughter of Lyndon B. Johnson and Lady Bird Johnson, she changed the spelling of her name at age 18 as a form of rebellion against her parents. (More)

Gloria Steinem (2): A self-described radical feminist who began her work in the late 1960s. She is one of the most famous members of the second-wave feminist movement, and in 2015, she said that as she got older, she felt she was free of the “demands of gender”. (More)

Zora Neale Hurston (2)*: Anthropologist and writer from the Harlem Renaissance. She was a prolific writer who pioneered a style of writing in dialect and focused on Black women’s stories, especially in the American South. Their Eyes Were Watching God is her most popular novel. She was also queer, and lived with poet/playwright Georgia Douglas Johnson. (She’s so cool I love her)

Dolores Huerta (2): Labor union leader and civil rights activist who worked with Cesar Chaves to organize the Delano Grape Strike in 1965, which was a major step in earning rights for the (mostly hispanic) farm workers in southern California. She was the first Latina woman admitted to the National Women’s Hall of Fame and is a hero for much of the Latino community. (More)

Caroline Kennedy (2): Daughter of JFK

Nancy Reagan (3): Wife of Ronald Reagan, whose policies were detrimental for queer and poor folks especially.

Hall & Oates (3): An American pop rock duo from the 1970s. You can listen here and here.

WaPo (4): The Washington Post, a East-coast specific policial newspaper that has been traditionally left-leaning, but is now owned by Jeff Bezos. (More)

W Hotel (5): A luxury hotel marketed toward a younger demographic that focus on maintaining a fun and relaxing vibe.

Modern-day Kennedys (6): The Kennedys are a dynasty of American politicians

“Bug” (8): A pun on June’s name, referencing a June bug

Garden State (8): A 2004 movie about an actor/waiter who returns to his hometown of New Jersey after his mother dies. It is based on the director’s experiences and has gained a cult following. It was a favorite at the Sundance Film Festival. (More)

“London Luck, & Love” (8): A Hall & Oates song, a love song about spending time in London and being lucky enough to quickly fall in love with someone. The lyrics are available here

Hill country of Texas (8): An area in central/south Texas that is historically liberal. (More)

Lometa (9): A small town (856 in 2010) in central Texas. (More, Even More)

Fort Hood (9): A large US Military post built in 1942 as a place to test tanks. (More)

Death Comes for the Archbishop (9): A rambling 1927 novel that re-tells the lives of Jean-Baptiste Lamy and Joseph Projectus Machebeuf as Catholic clergy in New Mexico. (More, Even More)

“Trash turtles all the way down” (11): “Turtles all the way down” is a phrase that means that things keep getting consistently worse

GQ (11): Gentleman’s Quarterly, a magazine targeted to men and focused on fashion and culture. (More)

MIT (11): The Massachusetts Institute of Technology, a very advanced school for STEM subjects.

Viscount (12): The 4th rank in the British peerage system, above baron and below earl (More)

Cucumber Sandwich (12)**: In The Importance of Being Earnest, Oscar Wilde makes a gay sex/dick joke involving cucumber sandwiches found down on the docks (a place where queer men could often find sex, either for free or for a fee).

Vampire sex-waifs (13): A reference to the three half-crazed, semi-human women living in Dracula’s castle

Waltz (14)***: A style of ballroom dance that is relatively easy to pick pick up, yet demands at least a bit of rigidity and distance. Henry mentions later that he doesn’t like it.

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*Hurston is so cool. Scholars have extended what we call the Harlem Renaissance just so she can be in it, and she’s such an incredible writer, and she was so gay and so cool and I love her a lot. She literally perfected the a style of writing in dialogue that works beautifully, and everything I’ve read from her (fiction and nonfiction) has been gorgeous. That’s it; that’s the note.

**I’d just like to shout out my old butch theater prof freshman year who stood in front of this room of dumbass college kids and explained this 200-year-old dick joke. She changed my life (for other, non-dick-joke-related reasons).

***I didn’t want to build this into the packet itself, since it’s more analysis than definition, but the fact that Henry waltzes with June in public when the waltz is a rigid/controlled dance, then later reveals before a private dance with Alex that he doesn’t care for waltzing? And that we don’t even get to know what kind of dance they do, because it’s both too private for even us to know and it’s not one with a name or an easy description; it’s a dance unique to them in that moment? Poetry.

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If there’s anything I missed or that you’d like more on, please let me know! And if you’d like to/are able, please consider buying me a ko-fi? I know not everyone can, and that’s fine, but these things take a lot of time/work and I’d really appreciate it!

Chapter 2

#I did it! It's started!#rwrb study guide #rwrb #red white and royal blue #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry fox mountchristen windsor x alex claremont diaz #alex claremont diaz #june claremont diaz #nora holleran #pez okonjo #bea fox mountchristen windsor #the white house trio #super six #casey mcquiston #firstprince

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purpleheatherdream · 4 years

Text

A Happy Halloween Outlander Fan-Fiction Reading List

Trick or Treat! Here’s a Halloween reading list for your enjoyment!

Witches

Draco (chapter 12 of the Constellations Series) by @kalendraashtar

“Witches all to burn at the stake.”

The Evanora @bonniebird17

The full moon hung over me, giving me the strength to keep me going and I was heading east, leading the witch hunter further away from my home and my sisters.

Part 1

Part 2

An Leabhar Dìlseachd by @thetranquilteal

Claire Fraser had always known she was a witch. Her affinity for healing hinted at it and her ability to time travel confirmed it. What she didn’t know was that she would come into her full power the day she became a mother. Concerned with how her pregnancy is progressing, she's seeks the help of apothecary Master Raymond in the hope that he will be able to teach her how to utilise her newfound power and protect her family from disaster. A canon-divergent AU told through the pages of the Fraser Grimoire ‘The Book of Faith’.

Bewitched by @julesbeauchamp

Jamie and Claire Fraser are like any other young married couple, except for some tiny detail: he's a mortal human being and she's a witch, something which she does not divulge to him until after their wedding.

Jamie just wants them to live a simple, mortal life, to which Claire agrees, meaning no witchcraft and no telling any of their mortal friends and relatives of her being a witch. However, that no witchcraft vow is more difficult to maintain than Claire had expected.

Brujerìa by @julesbeauchamp

Being a witch was a detail Claire Beauchamp omitted to tell people. She was determined to live her life as normally as possible and she was doing a pretty good job of it. At least until her meeting with a stranger sent her life into a spiral and revealed secrets about her past she never suspected.

The Witch and the Red Man by @lady-o-ren

He was a man meant for a life of loneliness but was relentlessly hunted for the darkness lurking within.

To Kill a Witch by @owlish-peacock36

Jamie doesn’t know much about women. Even less about the strange Miss Beauchamp. Outlander AU. One-shot.

Three Witches by @westerhos

An AU where Claire, Jenny, and Geillis are three modern-day witches. A big ole house, a "No Men Allowed Policy", rituals in the woods - the usual witchy norm. When Jamie shows up, things go to hell in a hand basket.

Three Witches Stories by @westerhos

Little ficlets set in the Three Witches universe, where Claire, Jenny, and Geillis are modern day witch friends with hilarious love lives.

The Thief, the Whore, the Witch, and the Strange Woman by @westerhos

An Outlander AU in which a 22 year old Claire Beauchamp Randall travels back in time on August 1st (Lughnasadh), 1941/1739. Ellen and Brian Fraser, both alive, offer her shelter in exchange for help in aiding Ellen's recovery. The growing attraction between Claire and Jamie leaves Claire torn, while suspicions arise regarding her past...Soon, it becomes clear that the Frasers know more than they let on.

The White Witch's Gift by @sapphiresassenach

A Christmas gift is given to Jamie and Claire during their twenty-year separation. The gift of each other.

I am a Witch by wongirl

What if after the witch trial when Jamie asks Claire if she is a witch she says yes?

P.S. Don't take it too seriously it's just a bit of fun

This is a Harry Potter/Outlander crossover story.

Witches by @whiskynottea at @otheroutlandertales

1739 -Fort William has a new garrison commander - one who is decided to break the Scots’ spirit. Will Jenny and Claire be able to save the tenants of Lallybroch with their magical powers, while staying safe?

Red Jamie and the White Lady by @takemeawaytocamelot

Claire Beauchamp is dragged by her best friend and flatmate, Geillis Duncan, to go visit a powerful psychic to prove once and for all that true love exists. Claire is a practical woman and finds the idea of true love pointless. Jamie Fraser is a powerful psychic who can glimpse the future. When he meets Claire, something changes. Like they were destined to find each other.

Legend of the Faerie Wife by DiverseMediums

A legend from the written history of Clan Fraser.

While this is a stand alone story, it is intended to be a companion piece for takemeawayocamelot's Red Jamie and the White Lady. There are no spoilers, but it adds a bit of depth to the brilliance she's creating over there :)

The White Witch by BlackStarNYC

The Scottish matriarchal family—known as the "Thomson Witches"—have a long and forlorn history... As the youngest of the clan, Claire’s life turns to chaos at a young age due to the power she has inherited. Pulled into the 18th century, she becomes bound by love that is threatened to be torn apart by castle intrigue, a 100 year old clan feud, war and a man possessed by a spirit that has haunted her family for centuries.... what could go wrong?

This Life by @calliopemoonbeam

Claire is a healer from a very young age. She trains in the mystical arts around the world, as well as the traditional medical field. She finds herself in London as a surgical resident in the late 1980s and early 90s. She starts having dreams of a past life. Where will they lead her?

Philomene by @ianmuyrray

Jenny -- thought dead by the rest of the world -- has lived in quiet exile since her king brother betrayed their family by allying with Black Jack Randall, who is on a mission to weed out any and all women who possess magic. Execution now waits for any woman who shows herself to know and use magical powers, or any woman merely suspected of being magical - no matter her rank, her family, her influence, her children, or her own desire to live.

Jenny was supposed to be the first in the rising storm of murdered women, but, by some miracle, she survived. And has lived in hiding. But now she has been found.

Vampires

Exsanguinate by @owlish-peacock36

Exsanguinate: to drain of blood

No one ever asked for his name anymore. They gave him a wide berth, avoiding him at all costs. Whispers of rumors filled his ears, closer to the truth than they realized.

Monster. Incubus. Strigoi. Upyr.

No. His name was Jamie.

Step Into the Night by LadyRevolution

An Outlander AU where Claire didn't fall through the stones, she was on the run from the vampire coven that has been trying to enlist her for centuries. In her reprieve at Castle Leoch, it has been a challenge to both hide her vampirism and stay away from Jamie. He smells good, too good, and for a thousand year old vampire with steel control, that's worrying.

"Ye need blood, Claire, I can tell ye do," Jamie whispered, backing her into a wall, a hand on either side of her head. Breathing heavily, he leaned forward and exposed his neck, "so take it from me." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the moment Claire gave into her desires, her almost black eyes zeroing in on his neck.

Scottish Vampire in Boston by sunshineduckies

After Culloden, Jamie is turned by a vampire with a political agenda. Now he must find his way through his new life without Claire and his new burden, vampirism.

Post-Apocalyptic

Scalamandre by @futurelounging

An outbreak of a contagion causing violent psychoses across the globe sends the world into chaos and destruction. A scientist and a mountaineer meet in the wilds and join together to try to stop the men behind the madness.

Dawning in Dust by DiverseMediums

The Last War has ended. Civilization is no more. For Claire, solitary wandering is the only way of survival. What if it didn't have to be?

Ghosts

But I love you until the end of time. by @maybeimdoingsomethingright

With her husband constantly away not long after their marriage, Claire lives mostly alone in their house at the Scottish Highlands. However, she is not exactly alone and there is quite more to this house and her future -or is it her past?- than meets the eye.

Endless-loop theory and ghost!Jamie with a wee spin.

Reaching Through the Veil by @westerhos

Prompt: Imagine that Jamie somehow travels to Claire's time when Bree is still a baby and drops in on Claire randomly like she does in Voyager.

The Far and Distant Places by @westerhos

After fighting with Frank, Claire goes to a nearby church for a moment of peace. On her way home, she runs into a certain red-haired Scotsman...

The Haunting at Mrs. Baird's by @frasersridgeforever

The kindly hostess of a bed and breakfast notices some ghostly activity in her establishment, as the culprit sees his wife for the first and last time. A Halloween tale of Mrs. Baird and Jamie’s ghost as the Randalls arrive in Inverness for their second honeymoon.

Through the Magic Lantern by dielle

He didn't know how it worked, how he could float across the flow of the time and be there. - Ghost!Jamie, as seen in the first episode.

Purgatory by suspiciousteapot

Anonymous asked: what if because Claire's in the future Jamie as a ghost got to see her grow up or see bits and pieces of her life

Ghosts in the Daylight by @owlish-peacock36

"It's easier to dismiss ghosts in the daylight..." All Jamie wanted was quiet loneliness to work on his novel. But, are we ever truly alone? Ghost AU

Through the Door by @ianmuyrray

Proper Highland protocol held that the door must be opened at once after a death, to allow the soul to leave. - An Echo in the Bone, Chapter 2, "And Sometimes They Aren't"

Ghost!Jamie AU by Mod Eloise @imagineclaireandjamie

Story 1

Story 2

Other Magical/Fantastical/Horror Stories

Scotia by @kalendraashtar

An AU based in Myths and Legends. Written for the Tumblr 2017 Secret Santa challenge.

There Is More Beneath The Surface (Than We Can See) by @maybeimdoingsomethingright

When she was young, Claire saved a boy from drowning. Meeting again eleven years later, their worlds are forever changed. (Mermaid)

Thrush by @ianmuyrray

Roger goes sailing to meet mermaid Bree. (Mermaid)

A Fairy's Stone by @sapphiresassenach

Prompt: I was thinking if you could come up with a fanfic where what if Claire actually was Fae and revealed it to Jamie but stated that since she was bound to Jamie because they were soul mates and whatnot and thus she became fairly human when the deal was sealed and whatnot. If you get inspired maybe by this it would be cool to see what you come up with. (Fairy)

An Infinite Variety by orphan_account

Challenge on Infinite Earths, Outlander style

The Shape We Take by @westerhos

An AU inspired by Black Mirror's slightly dystopian "Hang the DJ," in which a dating app pairs you up until it finds your perfect match.

Just Happen During Halloween

A Costume Party by @sassenachpetals

Jamie and Claire ring in the Halloween holiday by attending a costume party. Claire has surprised Jamie with their couple costume idea and it's one that they'll never forget: Gomez and Morticia Addams…

Across The Hall by @thetranquilteal

Growing up in Scotland, one of Jamie Fraser’s all time favourite things to do was carve turnips on All Hallows Eve. Having recently relocated to the United States of America, Jamie assumes carving pumpkins on Halloween is no different and finds himself in a situation that he never expected.

The Doctor’s Companion by @theministerskat

After coming back through the stones, Roger and Bree get ready for a Halloween party.

Back To You Ficlet - Halloween by @balfeheughlywed

Set in the Back To You world, Jamie and Claire spend their first Halloween together at a costume party; smut ensues.

Halloween At the Ridge by @abbydebeaupreposts

Four Part Halloween Fluff set after MOBY imagining what traditions Jem and Mandy bring with them to Fraser’s Ridge

Halloween Through the Years by @takemeawaytocamelot

Claire and Jamie participate in a costume contest every Halloween.

Year One

Year Two

Year Three

Year Four

Year Six

Halloween, 1955 by @westerhos

Prompt: After [episode 305] with the making the 'batsuit' scene you should totally do a story about the first time Claire made some sort of costume for Bree.

****If an author whose work is listed is actually on Tumblr but is not tagged, please let me know.

#outlander #outlander fanfiction #halloween #fic rec list

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imaginariumpod · 4 years

Text

ORIENTALISM : edmund dulac and the 1001 nights

Once upon a time.

Fairytales and bedtime stories for children were always part of the general culture, especially in western society, but from the late 18th c., they steadily gained popularity until the late 19th century and beginning of the 20th century where the popularity of these stories was at an all time height. The stories were often found in small illustrated books that were read by both adults and children alike. From Perrault to Andersen, as well as various foreign tales. That era was also known as the Golden Age of Illustrations, since the wide releases of illustrated books made book illustration a very important part of popular visual culture. The late XIXth century will see a growing industry for the illustrated book. The context of the industrial revolution as well as a renewed interest for folktales and fairytales will make for a very busy era of illustrated books. The reprinting of a lot of traditional fairy tales by Andrew Lang as well the constant new editions and new fairy tale books during that specific era (1870-1920 according to most sources) will create a climate where lots of books will be published and even though, it will be mostly european tales, sometimes more foreign tales such as the 1001 nights will also be published and illustrated.

Artists like Arthur Rackham, Edmund Dulac, Aubrey Beardsley and many other will definitely impact the visual culture of the times, and still how we think about fairy tales illustrations to this day. In fact, some of the strongest visual influences behind the early Disney movies that were inspired by fairytales were indeed those illustrators. In fact, Kay Nielsen, who is one of the most well-known illustrators of the Golden Age era will become a creative director in the Disney Studio.

The particular historical context of the XIXth c. in Europe will bring a newfound fascination for the Orient (™) with the colonial empires of european countries such as France and the United Kingdom exercising their powers over countries such as Algeria, Egypt, India and many others. This era brought an interest for all things exotic and foreign. People longed to be mystified ad captured by the exoticism and romanticism of a foreign land. Of course, this all reeked of the white privilege and the western gaze but we’ll come to this. I’ll first start by explaining what is orientalist art, it’s art made specifically by white/western people incorporating stereotypical elements of what the Occident thinks the Orient looks like and pushing these pieces of art as accurate and representative of what the Orient really is. A lot of orientalist artists will never have left their countries and only make their art based on travel journals. So it’s a very biased art based on a second_, which will already a biased perspective of what the orient looks like because oh boy do white ppl in the XIXth love looking at foreign countries from the Orient™ as if it's some sort of curiosity that’s there for their entertainment. The most important element to consider to truly understand what is orientalist art, is that it’s art made by white people FOR white people. It won’t be a real representation of those countries, the culture and the people that will live in it. Orientalist art will create a truly foreign, exciting and, most importantly, imaginary idea of what the Orient is. It’s truly an invention of the West.

One of the main scholars of Orientalism and post-colonial theory is Edward Said, and what he will explain of what is Orientalism. For Said, Orientalism will be a way for the Western World to speak about the Orient from the western perspective. Orientalism will be a way to look at the Other and to truly otherize the East by putting it in contrast to the West. Said explains that the western culture will develop its own identity by putting it in opposition to what it considers foreign. Before I go further, i just want to say that what i define by the word Orient here will be the arab world as well as the entirety of the asian continent. Those old timey whites were just like oh. u look foreign… that means ur oriental 😔 what do you mean china and india are wildly different ? no same shit. So the base concept of Orient will be really vast and will mostly be used to talk about anything that is Other compared to the West. The West will define itself by showing itself as rational and normal while the East will be irrational and abhorrent, and yet. So fascinating to them.

Now that i’ve established the base concepts we will be working with, it’s time to start talking about the fairytales and the illustrations in themselves. I will talk mainly about Edmund Dulac in this article and his work within the fairytale illustration genre as well as his orientalist leanings. Also. sometimes it makes sense (even tho. its like. bro. please be better) and sometimes he puts a dude in a stereotypical turban in a the little mermaid illustration. Dulac is a french artist established in London, who will be really well known during most of his career. He illustrated books and magazines for most of his career. The main book we will talk about in this essay will be Stories from the Arabian Nights, written in 1907, and published and translated by Hodder & Sloughton. This edition will contain 50 colored illustrations as well as a pseudo arabic typography to give an exotic feel to this book and the tales it contains.

As it’s possible to notice by the first page, Dulac will create a very immersive oriental universe in this book that will bring the tales to life in a universe full of oriental aesthetics (whatever THAT means). The illustrations will be more inspired by Orientalist western paintings of what they imagined the Orient™ to be, rather than a depiction of what it truly is. And look, i’m aware that this is the 1001 nights, and since it's a phantasmagorical imaginary story, there should be no such thing as realist or not, but in the Dulac illustrations, the imaginary east will be a jumble of whatever they think the oriental looks like as well as a mish-mash of cultures that are wildly different one from another and it’s not really about a coherent imaginary universe, it’s just how the west will think of the east.

For example, one of the most well known orientalist artists will be Eugène Delacroix, who will make orientalist art wayyy before any of his travels to Morocco and Algeria, proving that it was never about accuracy, but mostly about a fictional, imaginary vision of what the East is supposed to be, especially in contrast to the west. The wild exotic East inspires, scares and fascinates western artists. It’s possible to compare one of Dulac’s illustration in this book with one of Delacroix’s most well known orientalist paintings Femmes d’Alger dans leur appartement, and you can see that the visual compositions of both art pieces will be very similar. The oriental woman is shown as languid, relaxed, the epitome of everything that the western woman isn't. (also i just want to say that i'm talking about cultural identity here and not like. the realness of daily life. Also i don't want to get into sexism and stuff RIGHT now but there’s like. for every woman involved here lol) Mostly, what i want to say is that women in the western society should be proper, civilised, polite, quiet. And this is what orientalism is about, once again, its putting the Orient™ in contrast to the West, so that the West can build its own cultural identity by comparing itself to the East.

It’s also possible to notice that the colors that will be used for these paintings and illustrations will be very rich and vibrant. The color scheme will be used to add a sense of exoticism and foreignness. The imagined East will be luxurious, wild, pleasurable, the complete opposite of a western society that will still be plagued by very strict sociological rules. This imagined freedom and temptation of sins will fascinate the western viewer.

Dulac will use mostly watercolors for his illustrations, this will help him create a very soft yet fantastical atmosphere to his illustrations. It will help him communicate the exoticism of the settings in which the tales will take place in. His illustrations will accompany tales and stories that have an oriental origin, and yet published and tailored to a western audience. So the visuals of this story will be created specifically to cater to a western public and that’s where the orientalism and the post-colonial perspective of these illustrations will start being in play. You can’t ignore the relations of power between the colonized and the colonizer. More than simply a curious look upon the east, the west will look at the East with a colonial gaze. The illustrations will indeed appropriate and incorporate elements of oriental art, but it will only be a reflexion of western society.

As you can see, in the following illustrations, more than wanting to represent the East, Dulac wants to give his illustrations an oriental flavors with elements that reminds of what people think the orient looks like. The influences will be arabic, indian, chinese, etc, and it will all be creating the Oriental universe of this fairytale book.

The postcolonial approach is very interesting and important in this case, because it will help the voices of the marginalized people who didn’t have a say in the visual representation of their own identity to reappropriate it. Those images, even if they do depict the Orient, won’t belong to the Orient. It belongs to the West.

The thing with those illustrations is that they are gorgeous. They truly are. Dulac was known as one of the best illustrators of the Golden Age and he really was, (tbh that era was amazingly full of talented and inspiring artists, some that are remembered today, and other who were forgotten but GOD THE SHEER TALENT) Those illustrations truly are of their times with their desire to showcase the Orient without having to face to colonial trauma they inflicted on these people or the reality of what those countries are. This specific book of Edmund Dulac and Housman is an interesting mix between two genres of art that were very predominant in the late XIXth century aka Orientalist Art as well as the typical book illustrations prints.

#orientalism #article on tumblr #fairytale #fairytales #edmund dulac

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nyxetoile · 4 years

Note

If it’s not too much trouble, could you share some of the book recommendations you got a while ago for your daughter? Or some she’s read and enjoyed? Mine (11)is going through books at an awe-inspiring pace and we can’t find new ones fast enough for her

I’d be happy to! This is just a small selection of ones I was recommended and researched for her. I’ve bolded the ones we bought and read. There is an emphasis, later in the list, of books with characters who have anxiety, since that’s something she’s dealing with.

Watership Down - Richard Adams: A group of rabbits leave their warren after one of them has a premonition that they will be killed. On the way to finding a safe place to live the encounter dogs, cats, mean rabbits, and humans. Very strong Warrior Cats vibe.

Animal Farm - George Orwell: A group of talking farm animals take over the farm and run it themselves. As the discrepancy between the working animals and the animals in charge grows, it becomes apparent that four legged pigs aren't so different from two legged ones. (It's an allegory for the Russian revolution and the rise of communism.)

Island of the Blue Dolphins - Scott O'Dell: A native girl is left behind by her tribe during a migration. Alone on an island she learns to hunt and survive, befriending a wolf and making a really pretty dress. Based on a true story. Similar to Hatchet.

Tuck Everlasting - Natalie Babbit: A girl in the 1800s meets a boy whose family drank from the fountain of youth and must now spend eternity protecting their secrets.

The Graveyard Book - Neil Gaiman: An orphan boy is raised by a vampire and several ghosts and ghouls in a graveyard until the world of the living intrudes. Avoids the "death by Newbury" curse by having the mentor figures dead to start with.

The Blackbird Girls - Anne Blankman: Two girls in Russia deal with the aftermath of the Chernobyl disaster.

Call of the Wild - Jack London: Trials and tribulations of a half-wild dog in the Yukon in the early 1900s.

Howl's Moving Castle - Diana Wynne Jones: Under a spell from the Witch of the Waste Sophie joins the household of the wizard Howl, hoping to find a way to break the curse. Along the way she befriends a fire demon, tames the wizard, and take on the witch herself.

The Dark is Rising - Susan Cooper: Steeped in King Arthur lore, it's a fantasy adventure surrounding a boy who discovers on his 11th birthday that he is one of six people who can fight against the Dark - and evil power threatening to take over the world.

The Witch of Blackbird Pond - Elizabeth George Speare: Set in the 1600s, Kit Tyler moves from the bright, warm Caribbean to the cold, stiff Puritan community in the Connecticut Colony. Lonely and trapped, her only friend is an old Quaker woman who lives outside of town that everyone calls a witch. When their friendship is discovered, the community turns on Kit, accusing her of witchcraft.

The Book Thief - Marcus Zusak: At the start of WWII, in Germany, a girl is sent to live with foster parents. On the way she steals a book. Told from the POV of Death, we follow Liesel through the next few years of her life, stealing books, pretending to be a Nazi, and hiding a Jewish man in the basement. Through it all, Liesel steals books, as her love of reading and words keeps her sane in a world increasingly growing mad.

Doll Bones - Holly Black: The story of three morbid kids trying to bring a haunted doll to its rightful grave in a neighboring town.

Emily Windsnap Series - Liz Kessler: A girl in England discovers she's really a mermaid and goes on adventures.

Grace Moore Series - Frog and Esther Jones: Magic is illegal. When a group of secret magic users is killed Grace must team up with an untrained, untrusting boy to try to solve the mystery. Fun characters, LGBT representation.

The Shadows Between Us - Tricia Levenseller: Alessandra has a fool prof plan to become powerful. Woo the Shadow King, kill him, rule as queen. But before she can be queen she needs to marry him and to do that she needs to keep him alive. Turns out she's not the only one who wants him dead. And maybe the only match for a Shadow King is a cunning queen.

Every Heart a Doorway - Seanan McGuire - Nancy is the latest guest at Miss. West's Home for Wayward Children, a home for all the children who have gone on fantastic adventures in other worlds, only to come home to the real world. It's a home where they can be believed, while also coming to terms with the fact they can never go back. But then children start to die- murdered - and Nancy must band together to find out who is killing them and protect their home. (Nancy is portrayed as a romantic asexual and the book is hailed as a good one for kids who are questioning their own sexuality.)

A Quiet Kind of Thunder - Sara Barnard: A girl with anxiety and selective mutism befriends and eventually falls in love with a deaf boy who accepts her for who she is and helps her find her voice.

The Rest of Us Just Live Here - Patrick Ness: A story about all the people in the magical adventure who aren't "the Chosen One." trying to live their lives and go to school and not get caught up in the zombie apocalypse or quest for the grail

Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo: Aspiring criminal Kaz is offered the chance at the score of a lifetime - sure to make him rich, if he can get along with the other misfits he needs to pull it off.

Turtles All the Way Down - John Green: Lifelong friendship, the intimacy of an unexpected reunion, Star Wars fan fiction, and tuatara. But at its heart is Aza Holmes, a young woman navigating daily existence within the ever-tightening spiral of her own thoughts.

This is Not a Test - Courtney Summers: Six teens are trapped in a school during a zombie apocalypse.

Under Rose Tainted Skies - Louise Gornall: A teen girl named Norah struggles with extreme anxiety and OCD that keep her a prisoner of her own home, until a boy named Luke gives her a reason to step out.

Everything All At Once - Katrina Leno: When her anxiety worsens after a death in the family, Lottie receives a series of letters from her aunt - a famous author - which help her overcome her fears and find her own voice.

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msclaritea · 5 years

Text

~Mr Azira Phale, Angel~

It struck me during the church scene that perhaps the Germans were calling him Mr. Fell because they thought Phale was his last name. So, I took a closer look at the two halves that made the whole.

~Azira

...Arabic in origin, it means A Rising Star. Interestingly, Pre-Islamic Arabia practiced Vedic religion, and in Vedic Astrology, Azira is a common name for babies born within Krittika Nakshatra, the older name of the Pleides Constellation.

Krittika..."literally means a "sharp flame" or "sword of fire." Alternatively, the word "Krittika" may be derived from the Sanskrit root krit, which means "to twist threads" or "to wind as a snake." This clearly is related to the symbology of the Caduceus and the May Pole. The root 'krit' also means "to separate, cut asunder, or divide." This secondary meaning refers to the division of souls into two groups that occurs on the Day of Illumination. The subtle energy associated with the Pleiades constellation is considered a Sword of Fire because it cuts asunder or separates knowledge from ignorance. It separates light from darkness."

~Phale

The name is actually of what is known as Pictish-Scottish origin. "The Picts were a confederation of Celtic language speaking peoples who lived in what is today eastern and northern Scotland during the Late British Iron Age and Early Medieval periods. Where they lived and what their culture was like can be inferred from early medieval texts and Pictish stones. Their Latin name, Picti, appears in written records from Late Antiquity to the 10th century."

"This interesting surname is of Scottish and Irish origin, and it is an Anglicized form of the Scottish Gaelic "MacPhail", and the Irish Gaelic "MacPhoil", both patronymics from the Gaelic forms of the given name Paul, derived from the Latin "Paulus, meaning "small", and is has always been popular in Christendom."

Now of special note is Paul, the Saint, originally Saul of Tarsus, considered by many to be the actual founder of early Christianity, who very much believed in Angels, spoke of them appearing to him, and who at first, was bent on persecuting Jesus, only to become an Apostle after he appeared to him in the famous story of his travels on the road To Damascus. I came across an eye-opening article, theorizing that not only were Paul's writings edited and twisted, making him a patriarchal misogynist, but that he in fact believed in equality, was hugely inspired by Plato, and may very well have been Gay.

From: The (Possibly) Gay, Elite Apostle Who Believed in Radical Equality for All by Jay Parini

"I tend to agree with Bishop John Shelby Spong, a brilliant theologian and church leader, who argues that Paul was “a rigidly controlled gay male,” as he writes in Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism (1991). Be this as it may, Paul was clearly at war with his own body, tormented by the idea if not the reality of sexual desire, and eager to withdraw into the company of his male companions: Luke, Timothy, Silas, and others. His conflicted feelings about his own sexual nature may account for the “thorn in his flesh” that he wrote about in his second letter to the church at Corinth. (2 Corinthians 12:7-9)"

Galatians 3:28: “In Christ there is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free man, neither male nor female. In Christ, all of these are one.” ~Saint Paul~

Saint Paul was later decapitated by Nero! Oh, and one last thing...

Azira is actually a girl's name.

BUT WAIT...THERE'S MORE.

For those who have looked closer, you may have discovered that Petronius worked for Nero.

Petronius was chief advisor to Nero and helped with the planning of all debauchery, orgies, feasts and crimes. He was known as Arbiter of Taste.

And Petronius wrote the infamous Satyricon.

Influence Of The Satyricon Upon The Literature Of The World.

"...It is to the author's recognition of the importance of environment, of the vital role of inanimate surroundings as a means for bringing out character and imbuing his episodes and the actions of his characters with an air of reality and with those impulses and actions which are common to human experience, that his influence is due...This class of literature, though modified essentially from age to age, in keeping with the dictates of moral purity or bigotry, innocent or otherwise, has come to be the very stuff of which literary success in fiction is made. One may write a successful book without a thread of romance; one cannot write a successful romance without some knowledge of realism; the more intimate the knowledge the better the book.."

"Petronius writes cynically and satirically about Roman decadence, about a society that’s corrupt and materialistic. Paul, to a certain extent, is writing about the same thing. He is certainly not humorous most of the time; he’s expressing his straightforward outrage about what he is seeing around him."

Petronius, set up for a treason charge by a rival, was threatened with death but chose to take his own life in quite a dramatic fashion, which is described in the notes to Satyricon. He died a year before Paul.

*Satyricon is compared often in style to Au Rebours by Joris-Karl Huysmans, and one translation published in Paris,1902 has been attributed to Sebastian Melmoth aka Oscar Wilde.

Now, was St. Paul an influence in any way on Shakespeare? The Bard of course wrote about Religion and Politics in his plays but due to his enormous influence, St. Paul managed to touch Shakespeare's place in a much different way. This has led to the discovery of a place I had never heard of from this time period...and a new head canon.

During Shakespeare’s lifetime, the area around old St Paul’s Cathedral was a hive of activity and industry...the main gathering place for acquiring (and spreading) news and gossip, purchasing the latest fashions and commodities, and, of course, for being seen. Under its Nave, as known as Paul's Walk, while the people who went there and into the churchyard were known as Paul's Walkers.

Complaint of Thomas Dekker in 1608:

‘What swearing is there; yea, what swaggering, what facing and out-facing? What shuffling, what shouldering, what jostling, what jeering, what biting of thumbs to beget quarrels, what holding up of fingers to remember drunken meetings, what braving with feathers, what bearding with mustachios, what casting open of cloaks to publish new clothes.’

Indeed, with its dozens of booksellers, Paul’s Churchyard was the centre of the London book trade, and was popular throughout the entire country.

"Booksellers on Paternoster Row became a source of competition in the latter half of the century, eventually winning the prominent position in London bookselling, but Paul’s maintained its supremacy well into the seventeenth century." This link has a beautiful rendering that can be expanded to show the individual publishers."

I imagine Aziraphale would have spent hours here, likely with Crowley beside him, eagerly pouring over the thousands of books available, excitedly meeting other writers, getting lost among a mixture of saints and sinners, just enjoying humanity. And I head canon that THIS is what gave Aziraphale his idea to open a bookshop.

What kept bringing me back to St. Paul?

It's imposing presence caught my eye during the WW2 sequence. Turns out, it was bombed during the last days of December 1940, but survived due to the hard work of British firefighters.

“There are a lot of secrets in the design—a lot of buried subliminal stuff,” he reveals, noting that he hopes an eagle-eyed fan will find all the Easter eggs in Good Omens." Michael Ralph, Production designer, who also says that he based Azira's bookshop on the design of a compass.

Purposeful or no, using St. Paul as a guide through Good Omens has been a fun history lesson.

@consulting-nerd-of-many-things @ineffable-janthony @feifeicuttie @sarahthecoat @honeybeelullaby @echosilverwolf @englandwouldfalljohn@thegoodomensdumpster @fuckyeahgoodomens @artfulkindoforder @iamjohnlocked4life @artemisastarte @fellshish @brilliantorinsane

The Satyricon

https://www.uscatholic.org/church/scripture-and-theology/2012/04/putting-paul-his-place

The Influence of St. Paul on Shakespeare

An awesome podcast That Shakespeare Life on St. Paul's Bookshops

x x x x x x

#Aziraphale #Name Origin Meta #St. Paul #Founder of Christianity #Bible Studies #Arabic Origin #Vedic Astrology #Good Omens #1st GO Meta #aka DymphnaSaints #TRMOJAS #shakespeare #Old St Paul's Churchyard #Paul's Walkers #WW2 #I wish someone would include the churchyard in a film or documentary

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gadgetgirl71 · 4 years

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Amazon First Reads for April 2020

Here we are again, it’s time to choose one of eight books that Amazon First Reads lets Amazon Prime Members download for free. At the moment I seem to be downloading more free books than ever. I wonder if it’s my mind trying to get off what is happening around the world, lets just hope that I start to read more quickly.

This months book choices are:

Psychological Suspense

What we Forget to Bury by Martin Montgomery, Pages: 439, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

synopsis: Truth and deceit blur as one woman’s desperation twists into another’s desire for revenge in this mind-bending psychological novel.

Charlotte Coburn has a tragically dark past. But she’s safe now. She lives in a gated community, protected from danger. When teenager Elle knocks at her door looking for shelter during a particularly severe storm, the woman can’t help but think how lucky Elle’s been to have found someone as friendly as her. Except Elle chose her door on purpose…

She knows all about Charlotte’s secrets because they ruined her family and her life. And it is time that everyone else knew. But Charlotte’s past has left a dark void in her life, so she is concocting her own vicious plan, convinced that Elle can help fill that void.

As events unfold, the truth unravels and pulls both women into a dangerous game that will leave you wondering, Who’s the villain?

Contemporary Fiction

Little White Secrets by Carol Mason, Pages 33, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: A daughter pushing the limits. A marriage ready to crack. A secret that can break them.

For Emily Rossi, life may not be perfect, but it’s pretty close. She has a great career, a house in the country, a solid marriage to Eric and two wonderful children—tennis superstar Daniel and quiet, sensitive Zara. But when her fourteen-year-old daughter brings home a toxic new best friend, Emily’s seemingly perfect family starts to spiral out of control.

Suddenly Zara is staying out late, taking drugs and keeping bad company. And just when Emily needs Eric to be an involved father, he seems too wrapped up with his job in London to care. What’s more, he’s started drinking again.

When a dark secret from the past emerges, Emily’s life is turned upside down. Struggling to protect the people she loves, can she save her damaged family? Doing so may mean keeping a secret of her own…

Thriller

The Girl Beneath the Sea by Andrew Mayner, Pages: 328, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: For a Florida police diver, danger rises to the surface in an adventurous thriller by the Wall Street Journal bestselling author of The Naturalist.

Coming from scandalous Florida treasure hunters and drug smugglers, Sloan McPherson is forging her own path, for herself and for her daughter, out from under her family’s shadow. An auxiliary officer for Lauderdale Shores PD, she’s the go-to diver for evidence recovery. Then Sloan finds a fresh kill floating in a canal—a woman whose murky history collides with Sloan’s. Their troubling ties are making Sloan less a potential witness than a suspect. And her colleagues aren’t the only ones following every move she makes. So is the killer.

Stalked by an assassin, pitted against a ruthless cartel searching for a lost fortune, and under watch within her ranks, Sloan has only one ally: the legendary DEA agent who put Sloan’s uncle behind bars. He knows just how deep corruption runs—and the kind of danger Sloan is in. To stay alive, Sloan must stay one step ahead of her enemies—both known and unknown—and a growing conspiracy designed to pull her under.

Science Fiction

A Girl from Nowhere by James Maxwell, Pages: 442, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: Surrounded by fire, a girl with mysterious powers and a young warrior search for safety.

Life in the wasteland is a constant struggle. No one knows it better than Taimin. Crippled, and with only his indomitable aunt to protect him, Taimin must learn to survive in a world scorched by two suns and frequented by raiders.

But when Taimin discovers his homestead ransacked and his aunt killed, he sets off with one mission: to seek revenge against those who stole everything. With nowhere to call home, his hunt soon takes a turn when he meets a mystic, Selena, who convinces him to join her search for the fabled white city. Taimin and Selena both need refuge, and the white city is a place where Taimin may find someone to heal his childhood injury.

As they avoid relentless danger, Taimin and Selena attempt to reach the one place that promises salvation. And they can only hope that the city is the haven they need it to be…

Romance

Love on Beach Avenue by Jennifer Probst, Pages: 310, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: True love is in the details for the Jersey shore’s premier wedding planner in this heart-swooning series about big dreams and happy endings from New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Probst.

Avery Sunshine might not have a soul mate of her own, but she still believes in happily ever after—for her clients. Making dreams come true is her business at Sunshine Bridal, which she runs with her two sisters. When her best friend announces her engagement, Avery is thrilled to take charge of the giddy bride-to-be’s big day. Less thrilling? Her best friend’s arrogant and demanding brother, who just so happens to be the man of honour.

Carter Ross’s first instinct: call 911. He promised to always take care of his impulsive little sister, and he honors that vow. Even if it means taking over her wedding, where he is sure Avery will fail. At best, Avery is unpredictable. At worst, if she’s anything like the spitfire of a college girl he remembers, the main event could run wild.

With Avery and Carter wrestling for control, tempers heat up. So does the spark of attraction they’re fighting with every kiss. As the wedding draws near, it’s time to reconcile a rocky past and make a decision that could change everyone’s lives. Because what they’re rebelling against looks a lot like love.

Contemporary Fiction

Stories We Never Told by Sonja Yoerg, Pages: 328, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: From the Amazon Charts and Washington Post bestselling author of True Places comes a suspenseful novel of love, secrets, and obsession.

Psychology professor Jackie Strelitz thinks she’s over Harlan Crispin, her ex-lover and colleague. Why should she care if Harlan springs a new “friend” on her? After all, Jackie has everything she ever wanted: a loving husband and a thriving career. Still, she can’t help but be curious about Harlan’s latest.

Nasira Amari is graceful, smart, and appallingly young. Worse, she’s the newest member of Jackie’s research team. For five years, Harlan enforced rules limiting his relationship with Jackie. With Nasira, he’s breaking every single one. Why her?

Fixated by the couple, Jackie’s curiosity becomes obsession. But she soon learns that nothing is quite what it seems and that to her surprise—and peril—she may not be the only one who can’t let go.

Literary Fiction

Meadowlark by Melanie Abrams, Pages: 238, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: A haunting novel about the lasting effects of childhood trauma and the resulting choices we make for our children.

After growing up in an austere spiritual compound, two teenagers, Simrin and Arjun, escape and go their separate ways. Years later, Simrin receives an email from Arjun. As they reconnect, Simrin learns that he has become the charismatic leader of Meadowlark, a commune in the Nevada desert that allows children to discover their “gifts.”

In spite of their fractured relationship, Simrin, a photojournalist, agrees to visit Meadowlark to document its story. She arrives at the commune with her five-year-old daughter in tow and soon realizes there is something disturbing about Arjun’s beliefs concerning children and their unusual abilities. When she discovers that the commune is in the midst of a criminal investigation, her unease grows deeper still.

As tensions with police heighten, Arjun’s wife begins to make plans of her own, fearing the exposure the investigation might bring for her and her children. Both mothers find themselves caught in a desperate situation, and as the conflict escalates, everyone involved must make painful—and potentially tragic—choices that could change their worlds forever.

Gripping and beautifully crafted, Meadowlark explores the power and danger of being extraordinary and what it means to see and be seen.

Children’s Picture Book

Bear & Fred (A World War II Story) by Iris Argaman, Pages: 47, Publication Date: 1 May 2020

Synopsis: Based on true events and beautifully illustrated, this is the story of a friendship that will last forever—told by Fred’s best friend, his beloved teddy bear.

During World War II, Fred must leave his home and live in hiding, apart from the rest of his family, but he always keeps Bear by his side. Bear knows it’s his job to take care of Fred and make sure he doesn’t feel alone.

After the war, Fred and his family are reunited and leave Holland for the United States. And still Bear is with him. When Fred grows up, he and Bear part for the first time when Bear is sent to Yad Vashem—the World Holocaust Remembrance Center in Israel, where this book was first published—to show the power of hope, friendship, and love.

I felt Fred’s small hand grab me. He patted me and whispered, “Bear, I won’t leave you here all by yourself. You are my best friend.”

*** Which book will you choose? I decided to go for Love on Beach Avenue. ***

#amazonkindle #amazon prime members #amazonprimemembers #amazonfirstreads #Kindle #Kindlebooks #books #childrens #childrenspicturebooks #contemporary fiction #goodreads #literary fiction #PsychologicalSuspence #romance #thriller #science fiction

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absolxguardian · 4 years

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My Characters: The Adrift Vaquero (Light Fingers)

Known as: The Adrift Vaquero | Jack Dominguez | The Cynical Tejano

Addressed as: Sir. Pronouns: he/him.

Character Masterpost

CW: Mentions of violence against sex workers, period typical low level racism, period typical homophobia, and a coercive human trafficking scheme (although it turns out better than the real world version). Jack’s backstory is very much based in history, and mid-1800s America is exactly the same here as it was in our world. It’s just that these are things excluded from Fallen London, so I feel the need to warn for them.

His backstory also ended up double the lengths of everyone else’s, so it’s under the cut.

On the Surface, Jack Domiguez was a Tejano (the Mexicans living in Texas from before it was annexed) cowboy/vaquero.

His grandfather lived in the part of Texas that was disputed between the Republic of Texas/the United States and Mexico. He was a loyal Mexican, and when the Mexican-American War broke out, he served as a cavalry officer in the Mexican army. He was killed, and his small estate pillaged by the American army.

Jack’s father grew up an orphan, and took the lesson of his father’s death to heart. The only way to survive was to keep your head down. Dominguez found his way north into Texas proper and began to work as a vaquero, driving and rounding up wild cattle on the behalf of white ranchers. He learned to keep his head down. He halfheartedly converted to Protestantism, but there was only so much he could assimilate to avoid the racism directed towards him. He was moderately successful, enough to support a wife in town, and soon she gave birth to a son. He gave this son a very anglo name- Jack. Because of his father’s efforts to assimilate, Jack can barely even speak Spanish.

Jack was born in 1868, three years after the end of the American Civil War. While many families were affected by deciding to join the Confederacy, Dominguez learned from his own father’s mistakes and remained neutral. But still, Jack grew up in its shadow, as Texas was flooded with free blacks and white southerners recently stripped of their fortunes. Or as Reconstruction ended and segregation began. But Jack learned from his father the best thing to do was keep his head down, and hope that white racists overlooked him.

Jack learned from his father how to be a vaquero from a young age, and he took. However, when Jack was 15, his father died from Typhoid fever, forcing him to work full time to support his mother, who died a few years later of cholera (again, his backstory is just regular historical fiction).

The increasing industrialization of the west and the invention of barbed wire in the 80s continued to drive Jack west as he sought work wherever he could find it. In 1888, Jack reached California. But by 1890, there simply wasn’t any open range left. He had been increasingly forced to take on more and more stationary ranch hand jobs, and then they were the only ones left.

Jack worked in the San Francisco area, and that was the up and coming town he would go into on his days off. It was there he befriended two twin prostitutes/performers: the women who would become the Fading Music Hall Singer and the Eccentric Opera House Singer, although he was much closer to the former.

It was with them where he first heard tales of the Neath and Fallen London. The sisters were approached by an Italian man who offered them a chance to perform in music halls in London and work as Mister Wines’ ladies. He was tasked with procuring foreign girls and taking them to London. He claimed the sister’s native heritage would allow them to pass as from somewhere more exotic. Of course, this wouldn’t be free, they’d be in debt to him for a good while. But they would be in London, a place where death is more flexible and everyone is too afraid of Mr. Wines to assault a sex-worker.

The Cynical Tejano didn’t want the sisters to agree to the deal. It sounded way too similar to the kind of things men used to lure women to California from China. But after the Eccentric Opera singer was beaten by a client, they realized that the guarantee of protection under the law was too great an opportunity to pass up.

Jack listened to his dad’s advice when it came to political issues. Although, he’s always found a place among the underdogs- free blacks, other Latines, native Americans, and sex workers were more likely to be his short term friends before circumstances separated them. In London, that means he’s found his place among Urchins, Rubbery Men, and the Tomb Colonists. Used to the racial politics of 1800s America, he was pleasantly, but very surprised, that beyond a few side eyes for being American or a newcomer, no one seemed to care that he wasn’t white.

But Jack had trouble listening to his dad’s advice when it came to not getting into trouble. He had a very quick wit, poor impulse control, and a mind for schemes, even if he didn’t have any actual training behind it. It was one of these schemes that began his Worst Year Ever.

Jack decided to start flirting with the son of a wealthy man in San Francisco who clearly showed mutual interest (he’s also very surprised that London doesn’t have homophobia anymore either). He’d had a few casual relationships before, but mostly with other cowboys out in the frontier. That’s just how things happened out there, with no women for miles. And so there was still less judgement when he showed no interest in prostitutes once they were back in town. His relationship with the heir was the same. They were friends with benefits, and he knew his lover would be able to avoid consequences one way or another if they got found out.

One night, instead of doing the usual climbing out of the window trick, Jack tried to take some silverware to make up for the fact he was almost destitute. But that woke up the entire household, forcing him to sprint through the streets of San Francisco and vault onto a ship right as it was leaving port. He still has no idea how his lover fared, but hopefully he was assumed to be a burglar.

And thus began Jack’s Worst Year Ever.

The ship was bound for China. And while the captain took a liking to the Adrift Vaquero, he was unwilling to land somewhere else. So the Adrift Vaquero worked as a deckhand on the ship until they arrived in China.

From there he made his way westward, criss-crossing the East. He could have taken a ship back to California, but all those captains wanted payment. He also risked arrest or immigration problems (he was a naturalized citizen, but non-white and couldn’t prove his citizenship) if he tried to go back to the states right away. So instead he made his way the other direction, alternating stowing away or working as a seaman. In ports, he survived through more theft and schemes, increasing his skills and rapscallioness.

Over the course of most of a year, the Adrift Vaquero finally made it to Egypt. From there, he intended to stowaway on an Italian ship. However, his information was bad, and he didn’t realize that said ship was bound for the Cumean Canal. He was now in the Neath.

The more deserted nature of the Cumean Canal and the Adrift Vaqueco’s bafflement at his new position caused him to be caught by the Admiralty's Port Authority. He was thrown into New Newgate for his crimes and given a do-or-die (but metaphorically) course on London.

Although he wasn’t told, his prison sentence was just a single month, and even that was simply to appease the crew of the ship that brought him down (crews willing to make Neath runs are rare). So even while the Adrift Vaquero was working on his escape plan, he was set loose in London with nothing to do. An outsider to both the Neath and English society in general, he still managed to learn quickly and keep his head down. He became a low level thief, mostly working for the Gracious Widow and simply taking the odd jobs as they come to him.

A few weeks after his release from prison, he received a note from his old friend, the Fading Music Hall Singer. Surprisingly, the man who brought her and her sister to the Neath wasn’t lying about the working conditions, and Mr. Wines made sure that all of his ladies had their food and board taken care of. According to the note, she had recently bought her freedom and retired from sex work, and only preformed in music halls now. There was no mention of her sister. She said that she had received news of a jewel “the size of a cow” and thought that Jack might be able to help her steal it, given his tendency for schemes.

The Adrift Vaquero knew that with such a jewel he could return not just to the Surface, but to the US, and probably even retire with a ranch of his own. (Despite his cynicism and flexibility with work, he also has an honest love of horses). So he sought out the Fading Musical Hall Singer, but he couldn’t find her. Now he’s been drawn into a web of conspiracy involving the Masters themselves. Quickly, a time approaches where keeping his head down will no longer be an option, and he must choose a side.

#fallen london #fl #fallen london ocs #the adrift vaquero

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findmyrupertfriend · 4 years

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Written by Samuel Anderson July, 2018

Do what thou wilt shall be the whole of the law,’” says actor Rupert Friend, quoting the philosophy behind an obscure religion practiced by his character on his forthcoming CBS All Access show Strange Angel. Yet, he could just as well be summing up his own life’s motto. He may not, like his character, worship early 1900s occultist Aleister Crowley or dabble in the dark arts, but Friend says his own propensity to quote, “do what thou wilt” has prepared him for the role of the freewheeling Ernest Donovan.

Born in Oxfordshire, England, Friend grew up reading voraciously, which he says primed him for an actor’s life; his character on Strange Angel is a testament to just how many lives he’s lived. “There’s a wild and reckless quality to him that I certainly did have for quite a long time in my younger years,” he says. “I would chuckle to myself while reading the script [because] it was like a greatest hits of all the things I once did. Like, ‘Oh, yeah, crashed my motorbike, done that. Down a beer and tears up the night, done that. Oh yeah, killed my own food, done that.’”

Based on a stranger-than-fiction chapter in scientific history, the show centers on real-life 1930s scientist Jack Parsons, who invented a form of rocket fuel later used by NASA while in his free time practicing satanic rituals and organizing mystical orgies. In the show, Friend’s Donovan turns Parsons onto British occultist Crowley’s teachings—which, he says, are as universal as they are sensational. “[Crowley’s] detractors would say it was an excuse for debauchery,” says Friend. “But I think the people who followed the religion then and now would say it’s more about being true to yourself and allowing your desire to lead you rather than repressing it. I think there’s something in it.”

Not unlike Crowley, Friend is seemingly driven by a desire to occupy as many worlds as possible. A little over a year ago, Friend wrapped his five-season run as Peter Quinn, a CIA warhead who takes a shine to Claire Danes’s ex-CIA operative Carrie Mathison on the Showtime drama Homeland. An audience favorite, Quinn’s unexpected death at the end of Season 6 caused so much outrage that a fan group called “Not Our Homeland” took out a full-page ad in The Hollywood Reporter demanding an explanation from show runners.

After wrapping such a high-pressure role, some actors may have retreated to a white-sand beach. Instead, Friend jumped into back-to-back film roles: one in the Paul Feig-directed buddy comedy A Simple Favor and the other as Theo Van Gogh in Julian Schnabel’s Van Gogh biopic, At Eternity’s Gate, with Oscar Isaac and Willem Dafoe. Only after that, a vacation of sorts: “I decided to go on an ice-breaker to Antarctica. I’d never been,” Friend says matter-of-factly.

Just before embarking for the Arctic, Friend got the Strange Angel offer. “Our bags were packed and we were about to get on the plane when we got a call,” he says. “I was going to have no phone signal for about two weeks, so they needed a decision. I read the whole season flying over North and South America, and I thought it was terrific. Using my last couple bars of signal I texted, ‘Let’s do it’ and then said goodbye to the civilized world.”

But Friend is used to taking leaps of faith: Before getting Homeland, he’d taken out a large loan to buy his London flat—a venture that didn’t go according to plan. “I ran out of money halfway through renovating it,” he explains. “So I had to fire all the construction workers. By that point my house was worth far less than it was when I bought it because I’d knocked holes in the walls, so I had no choice but to finish it myself.”

It was Homeland that eventually brought Friend to the U.S. “I found that there was a real genuine joy in what might be in America and that’s how I’ve always thought,” says Friend, who up until his role as Peter Quinn had been known for period dramas like his debut The Libertine opposite Johnny Depp and Pride & Prejudice, where he’d met Keira Knightley, his former girlfriend of five years. “What I don’t want to hear is ‘I wouldn’t do that—it probably won’t work.’ I was very much wanting to try to tap into that positive potential energy; you might have done this kind of role, but we’d like to see what you can do with that kind of role.”

Stateside, Friend leaned into both professional and personal opportunities, meeting his future wife, Aimee Mullins, an actress, public speaker, TED Talk-giver and Paralympic athlete, who turned out to be a valuable resource when it came to his role on Homeland. While an undergrad at Georgetown, Mullins interned at the Pentagon. “Aimee’s invaluable to me in every way, and is a great help on every one of my projects,” he says. “That particular one, it’s unfortunately classified. So we’ll have to leave it at that.”

On the precipice of his Arctic vacation, Friend had just two weeks to prepare for the role of Ernest Donovan. But as luck—or perhaps the spirit world—would have it, Friend got some help from one of his fellow passengers. “In the way that the world is sometimes very fortuitous, I got on the plane and met a wonderful man who was obsessed with all of it—CalTech, Los Angeles, rocket science, sex majick, the occult, fantasy—and he was a complete expert on the whole period. He grabbed my iPad and got me a ton of literature on it.” In addition to studying, Friend prepared by doing, as he always does, “what thou wilt.” In the Arctic, this included coming dizzyingly close to a whale, traversing massive icebergs, diving into arctic temperatures and jump-roping on deck during a storm—“I was getting fidgety,” he quips.

While he may be the living embodiment of following one’s heart, Friend says his days of extreme wanderlust are mostly behind him. “I used to find the familiarity of a living space claustrophobic, actually. Now less so because I like to come back to a place that I can call home,” he says. Following the wrap of Strange Angel’s first season in June, Friend plans to head back to New York, where he and Mullins share a construction site-free apartment.

But, he admits, another adventure may be in the works. “I want to take Aimee on the Orient Express. I think that would be great,” he says. “I want to do the tablecloth dining car thing, but I do get very twitchy, so I’ve got to figure out what to do about that.”

#words with friend #interview #rupert friend #dujour magazine #july 2018

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writerunsolved · 5 years

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The Drunken Mistake - Ch. 2

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Category: F/M

Fandom: Real Person Fiction

Relationship: Tom Hiddleston/Reader

Genres: Fluff and Humor

Language: English

Chapters: 3/?

Summary: You're a young up-and-coming singer based in London who has just released her first album.

After a wild night at the VMAs and some heavy partying and drinking at the afterparty, you write and publish a drunken tweet about a certain celebrity and one of their friends. You only realise what you've done the next day when a slew of texts and calls wakes you up to a dreadful but expected hangover. You immediately delete the tweet, but you're left to deal with the consequences. A public apology would probably be enough to make everything go away if you hadn't been invited to a movie premiere where said celebrity is most certainly going to be.

You decide that the best course of action will be to try and avoid them, but your plans almost never go the way you want them to.

Author’s Note: This one is long, friends. So strap in, ‘cause I have no control over my writing. 😅

Ch. 1

Chapter Two - When I Give Word, We Panic

The first thing you wanted to do was call Nina again. Every time you felt lost, especially when it came to work-related problems, she was the one you would go to. But you’d just talked to her and she’d mentioned being busy, and after all the trouble you’d already given her so far, you really didn’t want to disturb her again.

You found it weird that she hadn’t mentioned anything about the premiere, it would have definitely been relevant, seen the content of your tweet. You could only imagine she’d either forgotten or willfully avoided the subject so as not to put more pressure on you. You couldn’t blame her, had you not flipped through your calendar, that strategy might have even worked.

For now, you had to put on your big girl pants and deal with this whole situation. You also needed to put on actual pants, because you were still in your underwear.

Your brain just couldn’t catch a break today. It was true that most of what was happening to you had come about by your own hand, but still, life really needed to slow down a little bit.

Delayed by the new thoughts that the reminder of the premiere had brought you, and losing all purpose and concentration for the apology that was to be written, you decided you might as well make good of the time you would need to calm down a little more and take a long, relaxing, cleansing shower. You left the planner open as it was on the kitchen counter, VMAs award next to it, and just went for it.

You took it slow, and by the time you’d cleaned and dressed up, you had found a new resolve for the apology.

It wouldn’t be completely wrong to assume that you were in denial about the Marvel premiere, but you’d already made a decision, and there was no use in wasting any more time thinking about it. The apology took absolute precedence, you couldn’t let another day go by, this whole situation needed to be solved as soon as possible. After that, you could even go online and see what hilarious things people were saying about the whole ordeal. It could seem weird to anyone else, but people making jokes about something that was giving you anxiety was actually a huge help to keep the dramatics you were capable of to a minimum. Sometimes you just needed a call back to earth and out of your own head. Besides, it wouldn’t do to take yourself too seriously.

With your phone already in hand, you grabbed the planner and a pen and brought both to the dining room. Before you sat down to actually do what you were supposed to this time, you turned on the small stereo by the window to which you’d hooked up a USB device with your current favourite music.

When “ More Than Words ” started playing, you left your phone on the low table in the middle of the room, took the planner in hand, sat cross-legged on the sofa, and finally stopped stalling.

As much as you’d thought about it both before and during the shower, starting wasn’t actually all that easy. You should probably go for something simple but impactful, no excuses only apologies, and most importantly: it had to be sincere. You weren’t worried about the last one. You really were mortified by what you’d done, and you were sure you could let that come across in some way or another.

You wrote down a couple of lines, mostly about what had been going on at the time of the tweet - just to give it context - and when you were done with that, the rest of it seemed to come out on its own. You talked about how inappropriate it was to use such language, and about how irresponsible your drinking had been. You thanked anyone who would still be supporting you even after what had happened and even spent a couple of words for Tom and Chris, but you didn’t go at length about it. You didn’t really want to leave that particular part of the apology to the internet, you’d actually been thinking of asking Nina if there was any way to send a personal apology their way as that seemed the most proper approach to go about it. But it wasn’t important now.

When you’d finished, three or four more songs had gone by. You reread the whole thing and made a couple of corrections here and there but after that, you were done.

You put the planner, still open on the page you’d just finished writing, next to the phone on the small table and stretched out of the hunched position you’d inadvertently assumed while drafting. You then picked both the planner and the phone up with the intent of rewriting all of it down on the small device so you could send a quick e-mail to Nina for her confirmation. When you unlocked the screen you realised you’d completely missed your phone vibrating, as you had a new text from Nina herself.

You opened it up, she was asking you to meet her in a couple of hours at a café not too far from your apartment and to send her confirmation. So you did. The café really was very close, you could easily get there on foot, so you still had time to cook something and placate your grumbling stomach that had been requesting food since halfway through writing down the apology.

You made a quick strategy for the two hours you had before the meeting, you definitely had time for some pasta and, having already taken a shower, it wouldn’t take long to get dressed either.

With no more delay, you decided you would bring the planner with you and let Nina read it over coffee and simply got on with the rest of the day.

You left your apartment wearing a t-shirt and a scarf, a thin cardigan all bundled up in your bag. Even though it was warmer than usual for being almost September in London, it wasn’t exactly all that hot, and you could feel a chilly wind start to pick up for the evening.

You started walking, it would only take you a couple of turns and around fifteen minutes to get to the Caffé Piccolo where you would be meeting Nina. The way there was slightly extended when you crossed paths with a couple of your neighbours supposedly coming back from work.

You waved at Laura who lived on the third floor with her cute Collie puppy called Boss, and stopped to exchange a couple of words with you next-door neighbour Javed and his daughter Sashi, who was still wearing her school uniform. She smiled at you with the biggest tooth gap, one of her front teeth had apparently just fallen yesterday night and she was determined to tell you the riveting - and long! - tale of how it had happened, but Javed stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder and an “I’m sure our lovely neighbour is in a rush.”

You thanked him softly and promised Sashi you would see her for tea very soon, and she could tell you all about it then.

After Sashi and Javed, the walk to the café was pretty quiet. You’d been to what felt like hundreds of coffee shops before finally settling on Caffé Piccolo. You were ready to swear on your life that their coffee was the best in the whole of London. Even though they specialized in espresso - or simply coffee, like the owners often insisted -, they’d taken up several of the more eccentric drinks that one would usually associate with a bigger chain.

Caffé Piccolo was a small family business, the owners were a quirky Italian couple who’d been madly in love for over 30 years and had decided, with the help of their business school graduate son Andrea, to open up the place and bring true Italian coffee to London. They often gushed about what a genius Andrea was and how the success of their establishment was all thanks to him, but you were sure coffee that good would be enough to make anyone rich on its own.

You made the last turn and looked over at the entrance to the café where Nina was checking her phone and waiting for you in front of the big window next to the door. She looked up and noticed you too, you waved at her and then looked both ways before crossing the street to get to her.

When you finally reached her she greeted you with a big beautiful smile and a tight hug. You revelled in it.

You hugged her back enthusiastically and when you separated, you kissed her cheek and said: “It is so great to see you! I really need a friendly face right now.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you too,” she replied, then asked you “Did you get the apology done?”

Straight into business as usual, but you loved her for it. You shook your head, laughing gently, and answered “Yes, yes. But please, coffee first.” With that, you held the door open for her and then followed her inside.

Andrea was the one at the counter for the day, and as soon as he saw you he greeted you with a loud and affectionate “Ehi, bellezza!” but the moment he saw Nina he reined it in and corrected himself with a sombre wave before going back to the next client.

For some unknown reason, Andrea was really intimidated by Nina. You could kind of understand why, Nina had a huge presence, but she also had impeccable manners and that included waitstaff. Oh well, this wasn’t really the time to worry about it.

Nina and you sat down at a small table next to the window and started chatting while waiting for Andrea to get your order.

You were just about to pull the small planner out of your bag when Nina rushed “So, let’s see it.” extending an expecting hand for it.

“Nina!” you sighed, entertained “I literally just sat down.”

You finally fished the planner out and opened it to the page with the apology, offering it to her obligingly. Without another word, she began reading.

You looked at her slightly bent head, trying to discern a reaction from her features, but she gave you nothing aside from some pensive "Hmm"s here and there. When she was finished, she looked back at you and, without being prompted, began reading aloud from the planner she had now lifted from the table.

"In light of what has recently happened after my win at the VMAs, I feel like I need to apologise for my behaviour and for what I published here on Twitter the night of the event."

She stopped for a second, you started unconsciously bumping your leg up and down with nervousness. Nina looked you in the eyes and then back to the page and continued.

"I realise that what I wrote was grossly inappropriate, both towards Tom Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth and to everyone who has been supporting me in this amazing time of my life. I could use the celebration of the award as an excuse for my drinking that night, but I firmly believe that I need to own up to what I said and to the fact that it was reckless of me to drink so incredibly much. I realise that, as someone in the public eye, I should have known better and set a better example."

Nina paused again, by then you had started chewing on your thumbnail and you felt like you were vibrating out of your skin. Sometimes you really hated Nina's poker face. Before picking up again, she scrunched her lips in an impressed and slightly entertained smile. She knew exactly what being unable to read her was doing to you, and she enjoyed it greatly.

"In conclusion, I want to say that no kind of objectification is acceptable. As a woman, I am aware of how it feels to be on the other side of the issue, so I believe that my words are made that much worse by this fact. I hope I can regain everyone's trust, and I promise to try and be the best self I can be from now on."

She set the planner back on the table and declared: "Well done, sweetie." breaking into a huge grin.

You sighed in relief, your leg stopping its restless motion, and put both hands on the table in front of you, deflating. Exactly then, Andrea approached to take your order.

"Hello again, bellezza. Hello... Nina." he eyed her apprehensively, then looked back to you "What can I get you?"

You hadn't even thought about what to drink, so it was a welcome respite when Nina took over with a "We'll have a pot of black tea and two cups, please".

Andrea nodded briefly, noting the order down, and then you and Nina were alone again.

"As I was saying," she preceded you "Good job!"

You smiled and then asked her "Does anything need to be changed?"

"Oh, not at all, sweetheart. It's perfectly alright."

You nodded and went to grab the planner to put it back in your bag, but you stopped when she started "Although," at that, you paused "I'm surprised by how little time you took to apologise to the real victims." she accompanied the last word with exaggerated finger-quotes.

"Ah yes," you replied, finally grabbing the planner and getting on with putting it back "About that..." you looked back to Nina and went on "I wanted to ask you if there was any way to maybe send a direct apology to them?"

Her expression seemed puzzled so you continued "It felt a bit..." you searched for the right word "...indelicate to leave that specific apology to social media. I really feel like I owe them something more personal."

She nodded, "Well, yeah, I guess that could be arranged. Did you have something specific in mind?"

You thought about it for a second or two then answered: "I thought I could definitely write them a card, and maybe send a gift basket or something of the sort?"

She smiled knowingly and recited "Always better to atone-"

"With gifts." you finished for her, then laughed.

"And who might you have learned that from?" it was a rhetorical question, of course. It had been one of the first things you'd heard Nina say, on the second day you'd met her, and ever since, you had heard it so many times you had lost count. It seemed like there was always someone screwing up at the music label. At least in that, you weren't alone.

"Well, from the best, obviously." you conceded. Then you continued "In all seriousness, though, I really do think I owe them a serious apology. And I assumed a present wouldn't hurt the cause."

She nodded in agreement, then excitedly exclaimed "Oh! I have an idea! Wine!"

"Wine?"

"Yes, wine." she replied, "Hiddleston seems like a classy one, and I'm sure Hemsworth wouldn't despise a nice bottle either."

"That is a great idea. You're a genius, Nina."

"Did you ever doubt it, honey?" you looked straight at each other for a moment, and then started laughing at the same time, all the seriousness that might have been there immediately gone.

Just then, Andrea approached the table carrying a tray with your order. He set it down between you and Nina and asked: "What are we laughing about?"

Nina took over again, looked at him and answered: "Oh, our famous singer here got herself in some trouble she needs to make up for."

You looked at her, ready to fake outrage, but you stopped yourself when you noticed Andrea looking at her intently. Wait a minute, was that…? You couldn't believe it! Andrea was definitely into Nina.

He was looking at her with a small, shy smile, but when a couple of seconds had passed and nobody had said anything else, he seemed to recoil with a blush and remember you were still there, the moment completely gone. He looked between the two of you self-consciously and left with a "Well, here you go ladies."

You almost grimaced, this probably meant you would have to tell him Nina was exclusively into women at some point.

You called a half-hearted "Thank you!" after him and looked at Nina frowning in sympathy. She seemed to have noticed Andrea's predicament too because before you could say another word, she stopped you with a finger to her lips and a dejected smile. You guessed you could drop it for now.

You started pouring the tea for both of you when she went ahead "So, it's decided. You can write and tweet the apology whenever you're ready, honey. The sooner the better, of course."

"Yes, yes, I'll get it done by tonight."

You started sipping on your tea, relaxing back in your chair, when suddenly you remembered the other problem that had arisen earlier in the day.

"I almost forgot!" you sat up and put your cup of tea down "The new Marvel premiere is this Wednesday, did you know?!"

Nina avoided answering by taking a sip, a somewhat guilty expression settling on her face, and looked at you from above the rim of her cup. When she realised there was no getting out of replying, she set it back down and closed her eyes with a pained sigh.

"I know, I know..." she opened them again "I didn't forget. And yes, before you ask, I was trying to avoid the subject."

You let out an aggrieved moan and hunched over the edge of the table, putting your face between your hands. "Ugh! How am I gonna survive this?!"

Nina stretched her hand and patted you gently on your left shoulder, then said: "It'll be fine, sweetheart, there'll be so many people I'm sure you won't even have to look at either of them."

You lifted up your head and pointed at her decisively "That is exactly my plan!" you straightened up and continued resolutely "I'm gonna walk the red carpet, talk to the people I gotta talk to, and I'll avoid the both of them like the plague until the screening is over."

Nina retracted her hand and nodded solemnly "That sounds like a solid plan. I'm positive it'll be alright." she lifted her cup to her mouth with both hands and before taking another sip she continued "Now, let's talk about your schedule for next month."

And with that, the subject was changed.

By the time you and Nina had parted ways, a couple of hours had passed and you’d managed to settle on the content of the apology that would be sent to the two actors in your name but through the agency. In the end, you’d decided to follow Nina’s suggestion of gifting them wine, too. Moreover, by the time you went to bed, you'd sent the apology out into the vastness of the internet, both through Twitter and other social media.

The rest of the week was quite uneventful, as far as your daily life permitted.

The day after you and Nina met, she let you have another day off with the excuse that, because of the whole Twitter ordeal, you hadn’t really had the time to truly enjoy your hard-earned award. You took advantage of it by inviting your sister over for dinner and spending most of the day cooking an elaborate meal. It had been quite a while since the two of you had had a chance to catch up, and you knew she was always happy when you cooked for her as she wasn’t a very dedicated cook herself, so your cooking became the rare occasion for her to have a taste of home.

If the day right after meeting Nina was relaxing and even boring at times, the rest of the week seemed to fly by in an instant, the weekend included. You had several meetings at the music label, mostly regarding some promotional material that you had to either approve of or pose for. They felt like long working days, but they were so full that when the night of the premiere finally came, you’d barely had a chance to come to terms with it. In the end, it had kind of sneaked up on you.

As it had happened every other day of a big event, that afternoon your apartment came alive with the crew that was tasked with preparing you for the evening.

Your stylist Nadia had managed to borrow a gorgeous purple gown by Marchesa, from the Fall/Winter 2018 Notte Collection. The gown had an elegant but fresh feeling to it. Its crossed collar left your shoulders uncovered, giving the look a youthful shine, but the deep purple extending from the top and getting lighter towards the edge of the skirt elevated its elegance and gave you a distinguished aura. To top it all off, a scattering of lucent beads hand-sewn all across the dress seemed to project you among the starry sky.

Even though you would have loved to keep it after the premiere, the gown was to be given back, as was often the case with dresses worn at one-time events. Still, you were grateful to be able to wear it, even for just one night, and it wouldn’t really belong in your wardrobe anyway. Garments like this one were rarely worn twice.

You eyed the dress from the corner of your eye to where it was hanging down from the tall mirror you’d brought to the living room for the fitting. It wasn’t yet time to put it on, Linda had just finished on your hair and was presently starting on your make-up. You contemplated taking a quick look at your phone to distract yourself from the nervousness that was starting to mount in your stomach, but opted against it when Linda spoke.

“So, are you excited for tonight?”

You couldn’t control the expression that came over your features, a dissonance of grimace and elation. Linda must have seen it too - she was looking straight at you and applying foundation after all - because she barely managed to suppress a smile, probably trying to spare your feelings.

It was alright, though, the situation was indeed quite absurd. Had you not been the one in the middle of it all, you would have probably found it at least a little funny, too.

You closed your eyes when she ordered you to and finally answered “I certainly am. Concerned, too.”

When you opened them again, she was directing a questioning look at you, to which you expanded “I’m definitely honoured to have been featured on the soundtrack. I am perfectly conscious of how lucky I am, seeing how much of a newbie I am in this industry.”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” she agreed, but then went on “However, your album has really been a huge success so far, so it’s only natural that the higher-ups at Marvel took notice. It is a very topical choice, don’t you think?”

Linda was always so logical that anybody who didn’t really know her might have taken her statement as a mere observation of fact, but you could hear the underlying compliment.

“You might be right, yes.” you nodded with a small smile.

“And… Hm…” she hesitated “What about the other thing?” she finally pressed on.

“The... other... thing?”

She looked behind you to the kitchen where Nina was having an animated phone conversation as if that was supposed to explain what she was referring to. You followed her line of sight, then turned back to her. When she realised you had no idea what she was talking about, she explained: “You know, the thing with Twitter and those two actors?”

Only Linda could be so thoroughly disinterested in learning the names of two big shots of the movie industry.

“Ah, that thing.” you closed your eyes again, and she went on to apply eyeshadow with a soft brush. You continued “There isn’t really that much I can do about it at this point. It’s definitely been giving me some degree of anxiety”, you conceded “But aside from apologising and trying not to come in contact with them at all tonight, I don’t have any more of a plan.”

You opened your eyes when you noticed the brush gone from your eyelids and that she was keeping strangely silent. Linda met you with an incredulous expression that told you exactly how little faith she had in your brilliant plan.

You looked back at her defiantly and without a word for a couple of seconds, then you both started laughing.

“Oh, shush you!” you warned her jokingly.

“I didn’t say anything!” she replied with an entertained shrug and laughter still on her lips. Then she got back to your makeup and that was that of that conversation.

About one more hour went by, your nervousness swelling with every passing minute, and it was finally time to put on the dress and get going.

It was a testament to how good a stylist Nadia was that she hadn’t even needed to meet you for a fitting to make the perfect adjustments to the dress so that it would suit you flawlessly.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, at what an incredible job Nadia and Linda had done with you. Every time they helped you get ready for an event, the end result was such an amazing one that your eyes glazed over a bit with unshed tears.

You turned back to them and extended your arms, they didn’t hesitate to meet you in the hug.

“You look dazzling, honey,” said Nadia.

“Absolutely stunning,” agreed Linda, nodding fervently.

“All thanks to you,” you replied.

“Yes, yes, this is all very moving,” Nina interjected, finally off the phone but still quite spirited “I don’t mean to be a moment ruiner, but we really need to get going.”

You nodded and grabbed the small white clutch Nadia had chosen to complete your outfit from the dining room table, inside it was your mobile phone and house keys. You turned back to wave them goodbye and opened the front door.

Nina followed you, calling back a quick “I’ll see you there later.” to Nadia and Linda, and closing the door behind herself.

When you were finally seated in the sleek car that had come to pick you up, Nina right next to you, the weight of what was about to happen hit you all at once. The ride felt deceivingly short so you barely had any time to process it all before the car had stopped and someone was opening the door for you.

The red carpet was a rush of flashing cameras and questions from journalists. Everything felt so hectic that you didn't have any time at all to dwell on your worry. You walked the first section of it slowly - as you’d been instructed to - so that the photographers could capture your outfit in its entirety. Then came the media portion of it. You stopped every two steps for varying amounts of times and answered questions on the song for the movie, the designer of your outfit, how excited you were, and even your Twitter debacle once or twice. That part wasn’t as enjoyable but luckily, the journalists who asked about it were quite kind to you.

You finally got to the end of the long line of journalists after what felt like an entire hour and were taking advantage of the respite when someone touched you gently on the shoulder once, and a male voice greeted from behind you “Hi!”

You turned around fixing a polite smile on your face, expecting to see one of the stewards waiting to inform you of where to go next, and started to greet them back with an enthusiastic “Hey!” However, the word died on your lips and the smile on your face froze and contorted into what must have been a terrified grimace when you finally realised who exactly had greeted you.

It was no steward.

Standing right there in front of you was none other than Thomas William Hiddleston, a radiant and warm smile dancing on his lips and directed straight at you.

Chapter 3

@honeybournehippy

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