#((oh Julian....oh you poor poor soul. if you only knew...))

[despairs-tyrant-king]

Is he upset that I sent a dick pic to Rex? Oh god...I didn't see it as flirting since I put a little top hat on it.

I just saw it as two dudes doing dumb shit and sharing dicks. I didn't even have a stiffy.

[insidemyrottenbrain]

Henry, meus cupitus - TSH

TW: gore, toxicity

Where do I even begin? I should start by mentioning that this little piece was inspired by multiple books including but not limited to: "The Meek One" by Dostoyevsky, "Lolita" by Nabokov, "American Psycho" by Bret Easton Ellis and "The Iliad" by the one and only Homer.

This is the toned-down version. I felt that the original was much too explicit to post, but nevertheless it will continue to live in my drafts. Keep in mind, that this version may still be incredibly violent for a part of the audience. Read at your own risk.

Henry, meus cupitus, the last season of the year. My sin, my soul. Henry Winter marching down the banks with his umbrella and books.

He was Henry when we spent our weekends at Francis’ country house, rowing on the lake, finding out about the moon landing. Henry Winter was him, spreading around campus like a dark November mist or in Julian’s attentive green eyes. But he was and still is Henry Marchbanks Winter ever since my ears listened to the convoluted story of the scar; ever since he started forgetting the Latin diary in my sight; ever since our ἕνωσις.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, what right have you to judge me? No one should speak of love in the third person, for it is intangible, running so differently through our bones, that it mimics our soul’s very rhythm and so drowns each of us with unique scents, extorted from the desire for which we spill blood. And yet, here it is, my poor heart standing trial for its depth. Little lords and gentlewomen of the jury, I urge you to be magnanimous and instead ask yourself: how will I ever stay behind all on my own? 

We met at Hampden. Our fates intertwined unexpectedly, gloriously, under the pressure of Julian’s classes and consequently under his guiding gaze. We were each other’s equal, neither of us possessing the ability to surpass the other. Though our views on matters weren’t, generally speaking, that different we still somehow managed to find little details so insignificant that the vast majority forget. What I believed in he stood against. What he stated I debated. A continuous chase between cat and mouse, except neither of us hid in walls. Oh, please, listen, how beautifully we were at each other’s throat with winged words whispered by Pallas Athene herself! With every class, my desire to stomp on his toes, to cut out his tongue and compare it to mine, to reduce him to absolute submission grew. As I’m sure did his. My only wish, which Zeus who drives the storm clouds later granted me, was to have him under my despotism. It was sickly divine and it consumed my insides raw. 

Fate is funny in its own sadistic way. And so, despite everything, despite every warning that I’m sure his precious guts gave him, he fell in stride with me. Dangerous, obsessive me. Slowly, with every argument we lost ourselves in the other’s carefully crafted web, our souls moving to do their twisted dance. We couldn’t stop and certainly, we did not want to stop mixing that which made us two. The knot of selves was but a mere preamble to the waltz of unification we performed under the influence of all the gods above. 

Now, most esteemed jury, that you understand the extent of our strange relationship, I can begin to narrate the following events: his demise (and the attempt of mine). I’ll tell it as I myself see fit and understand. That’s the horror of it for me, that I understand everything.

On October 11th of a certain year which I fail to recall, we were sitting against each other on the couch in his apartment, talking, quietly laughing, wasting our minds with wine as one does during the exam period. Take note, that Henry is reserved while his usual self, however, alcohol slightly enables the more emotive side of him. Through our conversation, he grew serious. I didn’t have to ask I knew he was going to tell me.

“You ruin me. You must know since you keep doing it.” Henry mumbled under his breath.  “You lurk through the darkest depths of my mind,” I looked at him, his expression a mirror of mine “I wander dazed, like Hades’ dead undead, unable to form a single coherent thought.” He scoffed. “You are my worst nightmare.” 

I remember closing my eyes for a moment. Knowing he was suffering because of me filled me with bliss. I could see that he was terribly irritated with his emotions, but I wasn’t going to soften anything. Oh no, on the contrary, seeing him in such a state made me deliberately want to intensify it. And then I opened my eyes only to find him, him, holding a knife to my throat.

“This has to stop.” He said solemnly, yet my gaze fell on his shaky hand. “I don’t want to plague my rationality further with you.”

I knew that all he had was his mind. And so, when I felt the sharp metal press against my neck; when I saw his determined, icy gaze I knew I had to twirl around him again. To prove to him that we are far from equals, that I am the sublime.

“You don’t have to love me.” I started out almost desperately, though it was only a trick, I assure you.  “Don’t answer me anything, don’t take any notice of me at all, and only let me look at you from the corner, turn me into your thing, into your little dog..” I whispered.

With his thumb, he wiped away the wetness falling from my eyes (not tears). He was distracted and so I gripped his arm turning it away from my throat and towards his chest. He reacted and used his force to push it in my face. I stopped it with my free hand just before the tempting edge deflated my round eye and all the liquid from it spilled on my face. However, doing so, Henry did severe my ring finger. It ripped from the last jagged skin and juicy flesh that held it tied to my stained hand, fell on the sofa and rolled down onto Henry’s oriental rug with a barely audible thump, all while leaving dark red stains behind. I got up and used my body to push him to the ground. I step on my lost finger. It lets out a crack. He drops the knife due to the force and I get my greedy hands on it. He hurried to get up but I straddled his hips and kissed him, pushing my wet tongue into his warm mouth. I lost myself in it and I only snapped out of my daze when I felt his thick blood staining my skin. Drip, drop, little ladybugs everywhere. 

I opened my eyes only to find his, or rather my, icy eyes still staring at me. What was left of my finger I dipped in blood and licked it. The glorious taste of his fluids mixed with mine exploded on my tongue and a voice whispered. And I believed it blindly, madly, terribly.

You all whom you believe yourself above me, pitiless hermaphrodites, inquire endlessly about the location of his body. It is not good manners to insist. Settle down, brutes, I’ll give you a clue just so you’ll leave me alone to mourn.

I listened to the voice that sang so sweetly in my ear. That is where his body is, in eternity with me.

Pass judgment on me, for that is why you’re here. However, you all are witnesses to my ‘crimes’, so judge yourself too, with the guidance of the Gods, for every accusation that leaves your wretched lips is a cast of your own dark depths. Answer if you are without sin: is it wrong to prove yourself to the one you love?

[kingovharts]

Oh no! Young Child!Mc's pet gold fish died and poor MC's dad has to start teaching them the concept of death.

What does he do to try to get MC to understand? Upon, finding out that their dad would someday pass away MC just starts crying even more(Like straight up full-on sobbing)? Ah the woes of taking care of children :)

(Also on a slightly less funny aspect of this scenario since MC's mom isn't here would that also be put into consideration.😮‍💨💀)

Y’all 😭 I never had a pet fish (I think?) before. Well we did have this huge ass aquarium when I was young but I remembered waking up with the fish gone so I was never attached. AnYWAY—

Under the cut cuz it got tooooo long again. 😭

Julian rushed out of the living room when he heard you crying. Upon arriving, he saw you holding the bowl you bought at the pet store for the little fish you desperately wanted after seeing the cartoon "Finding Nemo." The bowl, once a symbol of your joy and excitement, now held a lifeless fish floating at the surface.

“Daddy, why is Nemo not swimming? Is he asleep?” Julian looked at his precious child, then at the fish, which bore little resemblance to the vibrant orange character from the show. His heart sank as he realized the heavy burden he now faced.

How time flies. It seemed like just yesterday he first held his newborn baby, full of promise and innocence. And now, he had to teach them about death—a parent's most difficult task, one he had dreaded but knew was inevitable.

“Umm, peanut, you see, Nemo’s soul is gone. It means he’s not here anymore.” Julian decided to be honest. He feared that sugarcoating the truth would only lead to misunderstanding, leaving his child more confused and hurt.

“Gone? But why? He was fine yesterday!” Julian's heart ached as he saw you crying again. He truly was weak for you, your tears cutting deeper than any wound.

“Yes, peanut, he is gone. But I’m sure Nemo left the world happy because you made him happy!” Julian tried his best to cheer you up, but your next question made him pause, the weight of it nearly crushing him.

“Just like mummy?” Julian once again looked at your innocent face, eyes wide with confusion and pain. He hoped you would preserve that innocence. It was a hopeful thought, fragile as glass.

“Yes. Just like mummy,” Julian answered, his voice trembling. But your next question broke his heart completely.

“But daddy, does that mean someday your soul will leave too?” Julian couldn’t bear to answer. He hoped it wouldn’t happen soon. He wanted to see you grow up, live a normal life, and experience everything life has to offer. For that to happen, he needed to be strong, to endure for your sake.

“Yes, peanut. But not now. Daddy’s here.” Julian could only manage a smile, trying to fill the voids in both your hearts.

Julian pulled you close, holding you tightly, as if his embrace could shield you from the harsh realities of life.

In that moment, Julian vowed to cherish every second, to be the rock you needed, even as his own heart ached with the pain of loss and the fear of the future.

[amethystfortressauthor]

The Secret

With her last breath she took in her surrounds on top of that mountain she had waited her whole life to climb. As she fell she saw clouds hovering around her head.

I’ve finally experienced heaven on earth she thought as her mind went dark. Her body falling down the mountain hard and fast. As she opened her eyes again she was hovering above her body. The rocks were bruising her and breaking her bones but seeing her body take all these hits didn’t affect Florence. She was at peace and nothing else seemed to matter anymore. She was watching the after effects play out like a movie. A young couple walking discovered her body but by this time her soul was already being reincarnated into a baby body who had been born minutes after she died.

Florence opened her eyes again. Strangely she remembered being Florence as she cried her first new breaths.

“What are you going to name her?” The doctor asked her mother.

“I’m thinking Felicity, what do you think my love?” Her mother said as she looked at her father.

“My great grandmothers name, it’s perfect.” Her father replied.

Her parents looked back at Felicity as she cried. Everyone thought she was crying because she was scared being out of the womb but Felicity had no qualms with the outside world. She was crying because she thought she would be in heaven by now. She was confused at the fact that the gods decided to reincarnate her so quick without seeing heaven for a while first.

*****

Young Felicity put on her Rage Against The Man T-Shirt and her ripped black jeans. She had been holding onto a secret for 15 years now. No-one would believe her if she told them she remember being Felicity Jones the dance teacher they suspect was murdered 15 years ago. She had to plead total ignorance to the whole Felicity Jones case. Even when she saw her sister cry and beg the murderer to come forward on the tv, she desperately wanted to tell her that she wasn’t murdered by her rock climbing teacher. He didn’t see her die, he panicked when he lost her on that mountain. The poor man had to now leave a shuttered life due to people’s cruel suspicions and misguided hatred toward him.

Felicity acted like any other teenager. No-one knew her angst was towards being thrust into a new life. She was at peace, looking forward to her rest. She was angry at the gods for letting her family think she was murdered when she died of natural causes there on top of that mountain.

“She was 70 years old! That man should never have let her climb Mount Everest.” Her younger sister had said.

This made Felicity angry. Climbing Mount Everest was her lifelong dream and her sister would have it that she wouldn’t achieve her lifelong dream because she was ‘too old’. Then she reminded herself that Susanne said what she said out of grief and she cried that day in the hallway when the news was on. She couldn’t let her new family see her tears.

On one occasion her secret almost came out. She danced in her school gym once and her best friend saw her. “Where did you learn to dance like that?” She asked.

“Oh, it’s just instinct.” Felicity replied.

“Maybe you were a professional dancer in a past life.” Amy said.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Felicity laughed.

“Haha just a theory flick.” Amy said.

She could now see in Amy’s eyes that she was joking. She took a sigh of relief. She didn’t want anyone knowing about her past life. She had all kinds of fears around her secret being exposed.

She could be put into a mental institution. She could be labelled that weird girl in school and bullied constantly for it. Her family might think her loyalties are torn and treat her differently. Felicity had a reputation for being logical and atheist and she’d rather keep it that way. She would die with her secret until one day she spilled the tea.

His name was Julian and he was the only guy who ever made her weak at the knees. One day Felicity let it slip about her past life and Julian didn’t doubt her for a second.

“I’ve never told anyone that. I swore I’d take it to my grave.” Felicity said.

“It’s ok. I believe you and I won’t tell anyone.” Julian said.

“It tears me up inside sometimes. I wish I could tell my sister that I wasn’t murdered. I was at peace.” Felicity said.

“What if there was a way of telling her without giving away your secret.” Julian said.

“I would take that option in a heartbeat. What do you suppose we do?” Felicity said.

Julian smiled like he had the greatest of epiphanies. “Well……”

[soramel]

Curiosity didn’t kill the cat | jjk ff

Part 1

jjkxreader Prompt: “You’re early,” said the grim reaper with a hint of amusement.

Fantasy au, grimreaper!jungkook, reader, romance, slow-burn

Words: 1.5k approx. Part 1/5

“You coming tonight?” your friend, Jimin, queried. The air’s getting colder these days. Gone were the colors of autumn that used to cover the path you’re taking and only left with the cold wet pavement.

You shrugged, “I have reports to finish.”

Meaning a netflix series you have to catch up on in the comfort of your couch. You were already deciding if you should order chicken wings or just go with a hot choco. Maybe ramen... you might need to stop by the store for kimchi. You’ve ran out last week.

Jimin whined, “Again? I thought you just finished the other day? Isn’t it finals in two weeks?” he knew you’re not just up for any party. He barely hitched you up on one, but he thought you’d give it a try, considering you’re a semester away from graduation in two weeks time. 

“That also. It’s the finals,” you wittingly replied. Then faked a complaint, “Ugh, there’s too much to catch up on. I want to graduate already.”

You turned to him and gave out a sheepish smile, “Here’s my building. I’ll join you guys next time! Bye!”

It was a good call. It has been raining cats and dogs for hours. The heavy rain droned out the city’s noise outside your apartment and nothing could be more perfect right now with you and your laptop and a can of beer at hand. 

The sky lit up with lightning followed by a loud rumble of startling thunder.

In a blink, a shadowed figure appeared beside your bed. You yelped in surprise.

Out of instinct you threw him whatever you’re holding. He didn’t flinch and you just watched as the fedora hat fell off his head, revealing a set of unruly curls covering his eyes.

You gasped, hands covering your mouth.

The stranger’s eyes fell shut in annoyance at the sudden beer facial wash. 

Before he could even speak, you shouted, “Who the fuck are you?!”

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m calling 911!”

You questioned and threatened. Words coming out in spitfire. 

He patiently wiped the stinking liquid off his face then taking a look at his watch while you dial for the police. Only then you realized you lost grip of your phone before even pressing the green button. 

You tried to pick it up only to stare in horror as your hand went through. 

You stared back at the strange man while you took everything in. He’s wearing a black trench coat, black gloves, and black combat boots. A character straight out of steampunk. 

He let out a sigh and a forced smile. 

“You’re early,” said the man with a hint of amusement. 

“I just received your death notification while fetching a soul. He made a fuss and we had some problems so, apologies for being late.”

Is he crazy? A psychopath? A stalker?

“Ah, how rude of me. Jeon Jungkook. Your grim reaper, at your service.”

You’re beyond shock. 

You thought you needed to be sent to a mental hospital for even believing whatever the freak is saying right now. 

He raised his finger and sighed before pulling out a tablet under his coat. It’s as if he has done this a thousand times as he nonchalantly fed you information you couldn’t grasp.

“L/N, Y/N. Your cause of death should be of old age at 93 on August 10, 2090.”

Cocking his head to the side, “I need you to come with me to the headquarters so we can settle this.”

You gaped in utter shock.

“I’m dead?”

Jungkook nodded, “Yes. You had a car accident while crossing Adelaide...” he paused and swiped on his gadget, “1 hour and 2 minutes ago.”

You were about to speak when he held up his hand. “I know you have a lot of questions, but we need to get going. My shift’s ending in 0:00 and I still have one soul left to fetch today.”

In a daze, you stood up and followed him outside your apartment. The elevator dinged as it opened. He flashed his bunny-like smile and gestured towards the lift. 

“After you,”

You walked meekly, unsure whether this is some kind of prank being pulled by Jimin. Is he his friend? Is this your punishment for ditching him nth times in a row? 

Jungkook stepped into the elevator as you look for cameras. Your run-down apartment has none. 

Then the lights inside flickered, making you jolt. 

Ding!

The doors whooshed open only to find yourself in a grand bedroom. Wails of grief from the family rung through your ears as you followed his footsteps, still out of your sanity.

An old man’s body is laying on the bed, with the machine showing a flatline on the bedside. Jungkook wore off his fedora as he greeted the old man who’s staring at his grieving family.

“Sir. It’s time.” he informed solemnly. The man turned to you his eyes flashed with understanding. He stared up to Jungkook and nodded, accepting his fate. 

You pursed your lips as you held onto nothing but your hands. As Jungkook opened the bedroom door, you three were led to a neighborhood, outside of a mansion. 

There’s a car waiting. Jungkook held the car door open for him. With a last look at the house, he silently rode the car. The door falling shut after. 

You were speechless. This...

isn’t a prank.

You’re dead. 

--

“That was fast,” Jungkook said, sounding happy. “Ah I love fetching old people sometimes. Smooth as butter,” he told himself as he dust off his hands out of habit.

When he turned to you, his nose crinkled in light disgust. 

“Come with me,” he ordered.

You followed suit and couldn’t even utter a word. Barely understanding what’s happening. 

A minute of silence passed as you walked down on the neighborhood. 

“I’m not supposed to be dead, right?” you asked, remembering what he said earlier.

You watched the back of his head bob up and down. “That’s why I’m bringing you to the headquarters in Jongno district. You’re my first odd case,” he explained.

“How... how would I live? When I don’t have my body anymore?” you walked up to him. Stopping him from taking a step further.

“Shouldn’t we get my body first?” you asked, frantic. He just stared back at you and replied, “And what? Hide it in a fridge?”

“I don’t even have one in my house,” he followed then continued walking.

You felt utter frustration. It’s unfair. Extremely unfair. They did some kind of mistake then now you have to suffer. What kind of shit are they on to?

“But I wasn’t supposed to die! As you said!” you yelled at him. Tears welling up in your eyes. 

He stopped and turned back to you. He looked around and grabbed you by the arm. Jungkook walked towards a door and went in and as if there’s a sudden shift, quite of a whiplash, you exited to another door leading to another neighborhood. 

He didn’t stop walking and you tried your best to stop him as he just moved forward despite the cobblestone wall ahead of you. 

In a blink, you were led to a white-washed hall. Endless counters like those in a bank with red digital numbers on top of each one. 

He didn’t let go of you as he tapped on the self-service queue machine. 

A receipt is printed, a ding heard, then you were being dragged again 10 counters down the hall. 

His pissed off face were gone in a second as he flashed his friendly smile on the lady behind the desk. 

“Jungkook! It’s been 3 Julian years!” she greeted enthusiastically.

Then inquired right away, “Another stubborn soul?” 

She turned to you, and ranted on “Oh poor young lady, no need to worry. You’ll be reincarnated after passing the 7 trials! 49 days if you’re a noble soul but that’s 1 in a million traveling the afterlife. You’ll just spend a decade on average! We have a long queue at the gate, you see. You should fall in line now.”

She talked out in one breath then turned to the arrogant grim reaper, giving out a wink as if she just solved a problem for him.

Jungkook shook his head and leaned on the counter. “She’s not supposed to pass yet. Here,”

He took out his tablet and showed your profile. The lady frowned before another “Oh,” in surprise passed her lips.

She then swallowed and feigned a smile. “I have to call a higher up for this. Give me a sec.”

The lady dialed something on the telephone and spoke, “Sir, we have a case 3 here.” 

“Understood.”

She looked up at both of you after the call. The door to your left opened as she let you in. 

“Follow me,” she said in her top-notch customer service tone.

You were lost after a series of turns and doors and lifts. 

At another turn around the end of a hallway, you saw an intricate carved-out door at the other end. 

The lady knocked before the knob clicked open.

[chasneedsamoustache]

A bard’s family reunion

It was already dark when Geralt, accompanied – as he had been for almost a month now – by the troubadour poet Jaskier, reached the inn that would serve as a welcome bed for the night. The pair had been on the road for long enough to be in need of a bed that was not made of branches and rocks and also, most certainly a hot bath, for they both stank.

The red-faced and ill-mannered innkeeper scowled at Geralt – almost a moment too long for the tired witcher before shrugging his shoulders and declaring there to be no room available. If it wasn't for the raucous in the adjoining room, which Geralt presumed to be the main area of the tavern, he may have argued with the man. Instead he lingered, assaulting the the innkeeper with his narrowed eyes, long enough for Jaskier – who had gotten fed up of waiting with the horses and paid a young child a penny to do the job for him – to enter.

At the sight of the bard with, as always, a lute on his back and for reasons that for once did not seem to the witcher to be about him or his mutated existence, the innkeeper suddenly lit up, snapped his fingers and proclaimed there to be a spare room as Jaskier was 'one of those lot'. Geralt took the key offered to him, caring not that the red-faced man was entirely mistaken as whatever was meant by 'that lot' could not apply to the bard who had not even heard of this town, let alone this inn.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” Jaskier whispered to Geralt once they had handed their mounts over to the stable boy. “I'm sure we're going to get ourselves into some sort of trouble.”

“As long as that trouble happens in the morning, after a good nights sleep, I am not going to begrudge a little nuisance.”

“Says you, dear witcher, when it was only upon my own entering the establishment that we were permitted a room and thus it is I who will be in trouble for falsely taking up residence in some other poor fools room!”

“Worry not until you are at least bathed and fed, Jaskier.” Geralt said wearily. “Fed being the priority right now, my stomach is an empty cavern and I fear a monster has taken residence there as it is growling rather loudly.”

The troubadour sighed and gave in, his own stomach empty, he agreed that at least they should eat before they were chucked out onto the street for being imposters.

They entered the main section of the inn, Geralt led but paused when greeted by a room packed to the rafters of merry makers, young and old and of a variety of wealth that the witcher had certainly not expected out here in the countryside. Jaskier appeared beside him, looking equally disheartened at the lack of available seating.

The crowd, bristling with excitement, seemed to be centred on a small area with a raised wooden platform that looked to be stage, although it was currently empty of whatever or rather whomever had drawn such a large gathering. Waves of excited whispers and louder giggles passed over the crowd, ignored entirely by the two men who were still scouring the room for even a small space on a crowded bench.

“Perhaps we ought to take a meal in our room.” Jaskier said, having to practically shout to be heard over the hubbub. Geralt turned to his friend with a frown that begged him to repeat himself. Despite being able to hear the bard clearly if he whispered in a hail storm, he had not being paying attention. “I say, pehaps-”

Jaskier stopped mid-sentence, his face turned pale and twitched it's way into a grimace, the likes of which Geralt had never seen on the bard before. Nose wrinkled, Jaskier turned on his heel and made for the exit, announcing that, under no circumstances, could he stay in this place a moment longer. He cried out when the witcher grabbed him by the shoulder, eager to remind him that this was the only warm bed within a days ride.

“You don't understand.” Hissed Jaskier, squirming free of the witcher's grip.

“It matters not how you have wronged-”

“This is worse, we must leave and quickly!”

“Julian!” Too late, Jaskier blanched again and fell back against Geralt in his usual dramatics – although Geralt was not entirely sure it had not been a genuine faint this time for his friend's face was ugly with sickness and fear before the fellow who had called his name, his real name.

“Julian what on earth are you being so ridiculous for?” He approached, dressed as eccentrically, perhaps more so, than the bard who had returned to an upright position. “Oh forgive me, I forgot you don't use that name in public. Jaskier, I'm so glad you've made it! Everyone will be excited, for they were determined you had not even received the numerous invitations sent to you the even more numerous places you have been sighted in recent months. Indeed I believe I have some money to collect as it was only I who placed a wager in favour of your attendance. I thought that innkeeper had given the room we had kept for you, just in case, away to some imposter! ”

“No.” Jaskier's voice was not much more than a wheeze. He looked from Geralt to the room, desperately looking for an escape, for the fellow was blocking his exit.“No.”

“I beg your pardon?” The fellow, who, had precisely the same cornflower blue eyes and chin, and, though his nose was a different shape entirely, could only be Jaskier's brother, perhaps cousin, but brother was much more likely, such was there resemblance in face and mannerism. Geralt found himself raising an eyebrow. “What on earth do you mean by no?”

“Wh-what do you mean by invitation? I received no such thing.” The witcher thought that perhaps he had, but since he squirrelled away any word from his family, which was always the very last thing Jaskier was willing to discuss, he presumed any invitation was lost in the pile of unopened letters the bard thought Geralt did not know about.

“Then this is a happy coincidence! Destiny! Wonderous are the gods who have brought you here on the day of our great reunion!”

“Reunion?” Geralt smiled unpleasantly and Jaskier glared equally as hideously at him.

“Yes friend! Do not worry, brother-mine, it matters not that as usual your manners are lacking, for this man needs no introduction. White hair, yellow eyes, two swords! He could only be Geralt of Rivia! The white wolf! The witcher! The source of all the ballads and such that have made my dear brother famous across these lands. A good friend I believe and thus a friend to us all and certainly welcome at our table for the festivities!

“To answer your question, good witcher, this week is a grand celebration, a reunion of now all of the siblings of Lettenhove, in honour of our good father's birthday, rest his soul. We have commandeered this fine tavern and indeed the town hall and will be playing every night from now until midsummer – Papa's actual birthday if you would believe it – where we shall host a mighty feast and concert!”

“And, if it's not too rude to ask, for my dear Jaskier has failed to inform me of any of his familial relations,” Another, even more hideous glare was earned for the most subtle of Geralt's sarcastic tones, known only to Jaskier for being sarcastic and taken entirely sincerely by anyone else. “How many siblings are you?”

“Fourteen, including Ju- ah Jaskier here and myself.” When Geralt coughed, choking on his own surprise, Jaskier himself stepped in.

“We do not, of course all have the same mother.” He said sneeringly, the sneer was directed at Geralt alone.

“Of course, can you imagine such a poor lady?”

“No, Papa was, as I am, quite the ladies man and a good deal of my siblings were born outside of wedlock. Once he did marry, he remained faithful, I might add, for I do not wish you to think poorly of the man.”

“No, though I do wonder if there is more of us out there.”

“By the gods, John, I hope not!” Jaskier shuddered, finally naming the man in front of him. “I shall explain, dear witcher, but first, brother-mine, I am in incredible need of a drink and whatever passes for food in a place such as this.”

“Certainly! Of course, how rude of me! Come this way!” John waved his hand, much in the same way as Jaskier did when he led Geralt, sweeping and extravagantly. The witcher wondered who learned the technique from who.

Once seated on possibly the most packed table, filled with not only platters of roast meats, steaming fish and an assortment of bread and vegetable dishes, ale tankards and dull goblets full of wine that Geralt immediately knew had corked long ago, but also with at least seven of Jaskier's siblings. Their faces a strange mixture of the bard's familiar features and some that were not nearly as familiar nor pleasant, yet suited each face well. All had the same cornflower blue eyes and all were fixed on either the witcher or his friend, who by all accounts was sulking.

Another sibling had drawn the attention of most of the crowd that filled the rest of the tavern, sitting on stage with a lute, she sung gracefully and played just as well as Jaskier himself. A few, mostly young women of varying levels of beauty, still had their eyes on the table at which Geralt now sat. Eyes on the handsome men there, Jaskier still apparently judged as the most beautiful as most now gazed longingly at him, despite the grimace on his face.

He ignored them all until his friend elbowed him gently, knowing a pretty face or two would soon improve his mood – which it did, tremendously, the bard's grin quickly returned to his face as his winks sent women swooning and blushing. Geralt himself was simply relishing in not being the centre of attention and disgust, there were far too many pleasant young men and indeed women at the table for anyone to notice him and his yellow eyes, let alone be disgusted by them. Save one girl, when Geralt met her gaze, she smiled and nodded faintly to him.

“And now, dear friend, I shall endeavour to explain my peculiar family.” Jaskier interrupted the exchange, now feeling merrier having quickly emptying two mugs of beer, a third in a hand he swung about to draw attention. “My Papa, Joshua Austin Pankratz, seventh Viscount of Lettenhove, like myself -”

“And your all of your siblings.” A woman who looked to be in her early thirties with the same soft curl as Jaskier in her auburn hair, holding a babe in one hand and a turkey leg in the other, interrupted. Geralt had the impression that this was not the first time she had had to remind Jaskier to include more than just himself.

“Yes, like myself and all of my wonderful siblings was a bard, a troubadour, a poet, a man of music and although talented with many an instrument, favoured, like myself and my siblings, the lute. Before his own father passed away, he roamed the countryside and courts, playing to much applause and gaining fame which rivals my own. He also found his way to the bed of many a woman and some of those women provided him with gifts in the form of my older brothers and sisters.” A few of the men and women in the middle of the table nodded, one, the redhead with the babe, rolled her eyes so viciously she appeared to strain them. Jaskier ignored her.

“Papa,” Jaskier continued. “Was most unhappy when he was forced to give up his life as a bard and return to the family estate in Lettenhove to settle down as the Viscount. Soon after he wed my lovely mother, may she rest peacefully.”

“If your lord father had to settle down, then why are you still wondering the countryside like a pauper?” Geralt asked and his friend sneered again, turning his head from Geralt's raised eyebrows and questioning gaze.

“Our dear brother,” Said John, chuckling as he bit into a rather large slice of spiced pork pie, which caused him to choke, spluttering astonishingly elegantly into a handkerchief until the man beside him gave him a rather firm smack on the shoulders. “Thank you Johan – where was I? Oh yes, our brother, himself now the Viscount of Lettenhove, has a rather splendid advantage that our dear departed Papa did not. Juli- oh pox, do forgive me brother, Jaskier here, has a wealth of siblings with whom he shares the responsibilities that come with his title, leaving him Viscount in name only for most of the year, whilst we all take turns in running our little corner of the world. All of us except Jennifer, who is still too young, that is.”

“How did you trick your family into such an arrangement?” Geralt directed the question to his friend.

“Oh, before Papa passed away, we all took turns in threatening to give up the title and pass it on to the next sibling until all that was left was poor little Jennifer, at the time was still inside her mother's belly. A late surprise that one, didn't know Papa still had it in him. Anyway, it was he that suggested that, although I, being the oldest son borne of marriage, would officially be the Viscount, we split the responsibility – bastard or not. Works out to less than a month a year, which in order to keep our land and our money and so on, really isn't that much hassle, even for a group of travelling poets. ”

“Quite so.” John agreed, as did a few of the others.

“Come to think of it, who's in charge if you are all here?” Jaskier asked with a strangely concerned tone.

“Oh, Jac's husband, just for the week.” John replied.

“I suppose that is fine.” Sniffed Jaskier. “So anyway, we take it turns to, you know, be the Viscount, in order of age. Johan is the oldest, sat beside John there, then Judith at the end of the table, John, who you know, Jessica, currently performing and younger only by a few months, Jemima, born of my mother but before she wed my father, who is over there with a babe. How many have you now, dear sister?”

“Fetty here is the fith.”

“Goodness, are you also trying to create enough children for an orchestra?” Jemima scowled but was distracted by patting the babe back to sleep.

“Yes Geralt, our dear father realised at some point that a few more children and he may well have his own little troupe or orchestra. The joke is that we all turned out to love the lute and the lute alone.”

“Except for Jennifer.”

“Indeed, except for Jennifer who plays,” The bard let out a sigh which was echoed by a few of more vibrantly dressed siblings. “the triangle.”

A snotty-nosed and rather mucky girl, who could be no older than eight or nine, sat on the end of the table, grinned suddenly and it was only then that Geralt saw the resemblance to Jaskier. She snuffled her nose, which was in desperate need of wiping, and held up said instrument. A piece of thin metal bent into the shape of a triangle, hanging from a string. The girl hit it with a metal stick, rather triumphantly and Geralt smiled at her for ignoring her siblings sighs and being proud of her own talents. Johan beside her patted her on the back and pulled a rag from his pocket for her to wipe her little nose on.

“So after Jemima,” Jaskier was now determined to finish his explanations. “Came myself. Then, Jacob, Jacqueline, Jasper, who is doing a terrible job of wooing that poor lady over yonder, and Jane, beside me.

“And then, my dearest darling mother sadly left this world, the pox took her. Papa was most unhappy for a long time, until he found Sasha, whom he wed after some time, much to all of our relief. Afterwards came Joel and Jeremiah and finally, our very, very late little egg, Jennifer.” Jennifer grinned again, puffing up proudly as if she had planned her own conception.

The evening continued and amidst eating and drinking and bouts of applause, Geralt heard more and more about Jaskier's family. A hundred different tales from when they were young, including the day Jennifer was born and they all stood on the battlements with their father and played their lutes in unison until they were shouted down by the nursemaid for disturbing the new baby. It did however, become a tradition that they met once a year and played together on the battlements, now joined by little Jennifer who hit her triangle enthusiastically in time with the others.

The witcher heard other stories, from all the siblings, who came and went, sometimes in large groups, back and forth from the stage. Family squabbles and disagreements, silly spats and fights – some of which were still unresolved –  as well as many adventures they had happily shared and heart warming tales of happy times.

Stories of rule as Viscount, and of when Jaskier had vanished for almost an entire year, which turned out to be entirely Geralt's fault. He was forgiven but warned not to occupy his friend's time in late spring again. He heard too, happy stories of love and siblings supporting one another and soon Geralt understood the family to, despite Jaskier's half-hearted protests, truly care for one another.

Jaskier himself, now rather drunk on beer and corked wine, seemed to be the biggest champion of all his siblings, cheering them on and arguing – sometimes a little too aggressively – with them when he was praised above them. Truly, it seemed to Geralt that he loved them dearly, each and every one. Even if the bard ended up as the butt of many a joke, now released of any pretence, he laughed along side his siblings, heartedly and with no sign of sourness.

At one point Jaskier announced that he had in fact received the invitation and had pushed Geralt to come through here, despite pretending to have no knowledge of this place, when indeed he knew it to be the only inn around and that, by the time they reached it, Geralt would be sick of sleeping outside. The witcher himself laughed most heartedly, declaring that he had been played most cunningly, which in that moment he realised he had. He even joined in with the applause when Jaskier stood up and bowed to the cheers and laughter of his siblings for tricking a witcher.

When the dawn approached, Geralt had the pleasure of carrying Jaskier to bed. He was surprised that all the siblings, even Jennifer – though she had been asleep on Johan's lap for many hours – stayed until the innkeeper told them he must prepare for the day that had already arrived. It was only when they were on the stairs and finally alone, that Geralt asked Jaskier why he had hidden his family for so long and why even when they had arrived, he had tried to run.

“I want to be Jaskier, not Julian Alfred Pankratz, when I'm with you. And I thought that if you met my family that would change.” The bard said, his speech so slurred that Geralt could only just understand what he was saying. “They're good people, a good family, but I dislike that I'm a Viscount. I'm a bard, Geralt! A bard and only a bard! I've only used my title to get you out of trouble – like that time they caught you swindling the crown because of that red haired witch.” Geralt met Jaskier's blurred gaze and his friend began to giggle. “What I'm saying is,” He dribbled when his laughter had subsided. “The person you are friends with is Jaskier, troubadour, poet, womaniser, a man whom doesn't have a family with fourteen siblings and an increasing number of nieces and nephews. A man who can stand tall on his achievements, unique and talented and not one of many and not even the best among them.”

Jaskier's voice grew quiet and Geralt shook his head at such a notion.

“Dear friend, for you are truly my friend, perhaps the only true friend I have. Not because of your musical talent, nor your proficiency at bedding women and certainly not because you are a man without a family – though I did have you down as an only child, I must admit. No, dear, dear Jaskier, you are my friend for many reasons, your courage for one. You have been to places and taken part in things more dangerous than any normal man and from what I gather, certainly any of your siblings would readily involve themselves in. You have also saved me more times and in more ways than I can count. You are loyal, a horrible wretch, hilarious and utterly unique and with qualities I cannot even put into words, for I am no poet, but all of which make you my very dear friend and that will not change whether you are lonesome Jaskier or Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, one of fourteen or even a hundred siblings, all of whom play the lute with the exception of Jennifer who plays the triangle. You are my friend Jaskier, and always will be.”

The bard looked at Geralt with eyes shimmering with tears and, just as Geralt though he would speak, Jaskier turned his head an vomited into a plant pot.

[mordoriscalling]

Stay or Sail Away (1/6)

Here comes part one the modern AU fake dating Geraskier fic that I talked about in this post. I’d like to post each part daily. Tagging @geraskier-trashh as requested! :D

***

It’s not that Jaskier has any problem finding someone, thank you very much. It’s just that he’s busy. Busy with concerts and composing, meeting fans at various events, travelling, internet dramas involving Valdo (it’s always fucking Valdo). There’s no time for a relationship, only for occasional one night stands that sometimes that leave him heartbroken because he actually manages to fall in love with someone in the span of a few hours. It’s fine, though. Heartbreak inspires him like little else.

Jaskier's never complained about lack of bed partners, when he seeks them out. He’s charming, after all. Still, the moment he hears “commitment”, he flees. It’s just not his way. Or perhaps he’s never found anyone fascinating enough to commit to; it takes a lot to keep his attention.  He wasn’t even looking for someone like that. Not until recently.

His troubles began a week ago, during a phone call with his mum. She reminded him of his father’s 65th birthday party and asked if he would bring anyone with him. This was followed by a series of questions about his love life because, as his mum put it, “you’re 35, Julian darling, and you’re always working so hard! I worry you’ll end up alone”. In order to placate her, Jaskier might’ve lied a little tiny bit about some things. As a result, because of all the twists and turns of the conversation, he made his mother believe he had a fiancé.

A fucking fiancé.

Wanda Pankratz was ecstatic, wishing to know everything about her son’s relationship, but he dodged all the further questions by saying that she would meet his love soon enough. She left it at that but, of course, told half the family about it, if the texts and calls from his sisters and aunts were anything to go by.

Hence, The Post.

It’s a bit pathetic and desperate, Jaskier can freely admit, but he has no other choice. His personal guard Zoltan almost pissed himself laughing when Jaskier asked him to pretend to be his fiancé, and not one of his friends knows anyone who would want to do this. Not even his agent Triss could help him out.

It all drove Jaskier to log on his anonymous Facebook account (he is a pretty big name in the UK; better be safe than sorry) and post in one of the big London groups.

“I need urgent help from someone who’d be willing to act as my fiancé during a family party on February the 24th. The only thing I expect is the ability to sing praises of our love and to compliment my aunts. It’ll take around 4 hours and then we end our relationship. Age from 35 to 40. It’d be great if you knew something about the sea because I intend to introduce you as a sailor who’s never home and afterwards, you die. Can anybody help?”

Since yesterday, the post has got more than a thousand reactions (mostly the laughing one and likes) and hundreds of comments. Many people tagged their friends as a joke, which is not helpful, but Jaskier still scrolls down and down, trying not to let his hope die. Nobody seems to think his request is for real and he’s received no serious offers so far. Then, one of the newest comment threads catches his attention.

Lambert Rivia:    Geralt Rivia Destiny!

                              Geralt Rivia Fuck off

                              Yennefer Vengeberg Omg 😂 Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Eskel Rivia you must see this!

                              Cirilla Vengeberg-Rivia Yesssss!! This is perfect! ❤️

                              Eskel Rvia Do it Geralt

                              Geralt Rivia No.

Intrigued, Jaskier decides to check out these people’s profiles. Lambert Rivia is a handsome red-haired man who wears some kind of black military suit in his profile picture. Looking at his bio, Jaskier already knows why Lambert didn’t volunteer himself – he’s in a relationship. Eskel Rivia is blond, even more handsome than Lambert despite facial scars, and also has a photo in a black suit, together with a white cap on his head. There’s no information on Eskel’s relationship status and Jaskier is intrigued indeed. Yennefer Vengeberg is a terrifyingly beautiful woman who, judging how professional her profile picture appears, must work in some serious profession. Cirilla Vengerberg-Rivia is a lovely teenage girl with white-blond hair. Jaskier reckons she’s the daughter of Yennefer and one of the Rivia guys.

He left the poor Geralt’s profile as the last to look at, but now that Jaskier has seen the rest, he checks this one too.

His jaw fucking drops.

Geralt Rivia is a ridiculously handsome man. His face seems practically unreal because, surely, people as beautiful as Geralt don’t actually exist? The man’s long white hair (which makes no sense considering his apparent age), as well as his brown-almost-golden eyes, only add to his otherwordly, stunning appearance. Double stunning in that black military suit he’s wearing in his profile picture, just like Lambert and Eskel. The suit looks familiar and Jaskier has a nagging feeling he really should know what kind of army it is. Google helps him out and he quickly puts two to two – Geralt, Eskel and Lambert serve for the Royal Navy.

He bursts out laughing.

This is too good.

He wonders what he should to about this. Now that he knows about Geralt’s existence, he can’t really miss the chance of meeting him, however slim. His gut feeling tells him not to let the opportunity slip and well, who is Jaskier not to listen?

When he’s in the middle of debating what to write to the man, his phone pings. There’s a new messenger notification... with Geralt’s name. With a racing heart, Jaskier opens the message.

FEB THE 18TH AT 06:14 PM Hey. Everyone’s telling me to message you and won’t leave me alone. Is your request for real? Please say no

Jaskier chuckles and replies:

Hi! I’m sorry they’re bothering you and I’m also sorry to say that my request is very much for real. I’d be forever grateful if you helped me 😁

To this, Geralt responds with:

They really won’t stop until I agree They think it’s so fucking funny

Jaskier purses his lips, already suspecting this isn’t likely to work out. He'll have to face his loving mum and admit that he lied to her about fucking having a fiancé. She’s going to be so disappointed. At the very prospect, bad mood overtakes him, but he still types what he hopes to be a cheerful answer.

Damn, so sorry mate I won’t push you but, again, I’d totally owe you one if you agree  ☺️

What would I get?

Jaskier tries to reason with his hope to calm the fuck down and replies:

Money, or a favour of some sort, I have many connections Could be free tickets to my concerts  Even my company for the night 😏 Just whatever you want I really need help

Fuck

For a minute or two, the three dots next to Geralt’s photo disappear, and Jaskier’s hope plummets in a  dramatic fashion. Then, more messages from Geralt show up in the chat.

Free tickets seem fine My daughter loves going to concerts She’d like free tickets but I never heard of you

Jaskier starts begging any god out there that Cirilla is Geralt’s daughter. Teenagers make up a large part of his audience (which is great, actually; teenage kids are amazing these days). If she’s a fan, the free tickets are a major bargaining chip.

Well, Julian AP isn’t my stage name I don’t use it on fb

What is it? Your stage name

I’d rather not say here And you must promise me you won’t tell anyone about it too Well, anyone but your daughter

Ok

 Can you call me? It’s better to talk about this on the phone anyway

Fine.

Jaskier sends Geralt his number and waits for the call. In other circumstances, he’d congratulate himself on getting a man like that to call him so easily, but he’s too anxious. His hands itch for his guitar but he doesn’t get up from his bed. He begins smoothing his hair out with his palms, praying in his mind that Geralt hasn’t changed his mind.

After the agonizing wait of six minutes, there’s an incoming call. Jaskier takes a deep breath and picks up.

“Hello,” says a gravelly baritone voice so pleasant that it sends shivers down Jaskier’s spine.

“Uhm, h-hi, Geralt,” he replies a bit breathlessly, “so, my name’s Julian Alfred Pankratz but I’m known to many as Jaskier.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Jaskier?” Geralt repeats, “the one who sings Her Sweet Kiss?”

Jaskier beams, his chest swelling with pride. “The very same.”

“Fuck,” Geralt growls, “Ciri wants to blast this song whenever we drive somewhere.”

Jaskier laughs. “She would love free tickets to my concerts, wouldn’t she?”

“Yeah.”

Geralt says no more. Jaskier has to swallow down to sop his throat from constricting. “So?” he asks, “Can you do this for me?”

The silence on the other side is deafening and Jaskier doesn’t even breathe until Geralt finally speaks up. “Fine,” he grunts, his tone indicating it’s anything but fine.

Air leaves Jaskier’s lungs in a whoosh, replaced by a flood of such sheer relief that he may as well cry. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” he babbles, heady with joy, “Gosh, you’re my saviour!”

“Just don’t tell anyone about this,” Geralt grumbles.

“Not a soul, Geralt, not a soul.”

“Send me the details about when and where and let’s get this over w–”

“No, wait!” Jaskier cuts in, “My family’s very perceptive, they’ll know it’s a ruse. We should plan everything carefully.”

“You’re making me regret this,” Gerlt growls.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier hastens to say. “Just... at least tell me a bit about yourself?”

Geralt lets out an irritated sigh. “I’m forty, serve for the Royal Navy with my brothers. Eskel’s the nice one and Lambert’s the prick. My ex-wife Yennefer works for the government.” Jaskier actually shudders at this one because he already can picture it. Yennefer seems exactly powerful like that. “We have a daughter,” Geralt goes on, his tone softening, “Ciri. She’s fourteen. We live in London but I’m away often.”

“Oh, lovely,” Jaskier says with a wide smile because, really, this man’s love for his daughter is so clear and endearing, “this is something we can start with.”

“Just make everything up about our relationship and send it to me. I’ll play along.”

“Thank you,” he breathes out, still amazed at his luck. Jaskier is almost high on the success of his ingenious scheme and his obligations are therefore non-existent, so nothing stops him from teasing Geralt. “Though, to be completely honest," he says cheekily, "you don’t strike me as the type to sing praises of our love and compliment my aunts.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replies. It doesn’t sound like a negation. “Yen says I’m not that bad if I try.”

The fondness with which he said Yennefer’s name is a cold bucket of water poured on his enthusiasm. “O-oh, ok,” he stutters out, thrown off-track, “So, uhm, would you be willing to try for me?”

For a moment, Geralt says nothing, then answers, “If you give Ciri an autograph.”

Jaskier laughs out loud. “Not a problem at all! Whatever she wants.” He pauses. “Whatever you want,” he adds more seriously.  

Geralt only hmms, in a way that Jaskier’s prone-to-romanticism mind would almost call warm. Silence falls between them but it doesn’t feel awkward somehow. “Have to go,” Geralt says.

“Okay,” Jaskier replies quietly, “Thank you again. I’ll text you, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

After Geralt hangs up, Jaskier huffs out a shaky breath. Deep down, he already knows.

This is going to mess him up.

TBC

Part 2

[mwolf0epsilon]

Story on Norman catching Sammy in Joey cult ?

It's been twice now that I've written Norman's demise. Y'all really like killing people uh?

Summary: Sammy was weird in many ways, but this? This was just crazy.

---

     Back when Norman was still a little tot, his great nanna used to tell him and his brothers and sisters about their great poppop. How he'd been raised in some sort of cult that indoctrinated its disciples from birth. She related to them how, even though he'd managed to escape them, their constant drilling of ideals had never truly left him. Which was why nanna had gotten rid of him. Love him as she did, she knew he was a crazy dangerous man. Little five year old Norman had been very curious about those tales his mama begged nanna not to tell them. He especially found it curious when she described his eyes. Having a condition like the one he had, had made him a prime target for neighbourhood bullies that called him "Crazy-Eye". So hearing about someone who had actual insanity behind what most considered to be the windows to the soul... It had given him a sort of relief, because at least there was a spark of life behind his own unsynchronized peepers.   "N'aw child, don't yous go be tellin' ya mama 'bout what ol' nanna be tellin' you 'bout ya poppop, ya hear?"   "Ok nanna. Won't tell a soul."   "Yous is a clever one, boy. An' don't forget ta keep an eye out... Crazy can hide in plain sight. Sure did for poppop." Insanity could hide in plain sight. That was perhaps the most valuable lesson to take from his nanna's tales. What she could never get across was how hard it was to see someone you cared for slowly be afflicted with it.

     Sammy was a weird man. Had been from day one of Norman meeting him, and never quite changed even when he put a reign on his deplorable attitude. He wasn't a bad person per say. Misguided by a parent with that typical southern brand of white superiority complex. A man who thought his skin color made him better than all the other folk, and who taught his boy to think it was just as sacred an idea as the damn gospel he also tried to drill into Sammy's head. But Sammy was admittedly clever, and much more curious than his father had been. He asked questions and he tried to change when he realized his own crappy behaviour didn't please him all that much. But then things started getting unsettling in the studio. Little things popped up, and the world's own agenda got in the way of Joey Drew's plans. Turns out Joey wasn't about to fold for anything or anyone. Those who were drafted were the lucky ones. Those who were socially outcasts or liabilities in the military's eyes, were not so lucky. They stayed, so the wrongness affected them. The wrongness... Norman had felt something was not right for a long while, but now that he had to get acquainted with so many new hires and the such? He'd been preoccupied. So when the ones he knew suddenly started acting unlike themselves he'd been caught by surprise.   "I don't understand how Mr. Drew has no trouble with him... He's just so..." He'd found Buddy in the bathroom, trying to clean the obvious ink stains on his clothing. "Why did I think helping him would make him less nasty?"   "Sammy tends ta blow up at minor things. If it was as bad as yous say it was, then he was just freaked out from nearly drowning." He got as many paper towels as he could to help the poor kid get rid of as much of the ink as he could.   "Doesn't excuse what he says to me... Or the other Jewish employees..." Buddy murmured sadly.   "What did he say?"   "Not important... Just makes me uneasy. It's like I'm specifically not worth anything just because of my... Mr. Polk?" Buddy blinked once the projectionist dropped everything he was doing to stalk out the door.   "Yous ain't the first he's gone and played that card on. Was a long while ago but I can refresh Sammy's memory for the folks he's been barkin' at."   "Oh! Uh, you don't have to! It's not going to fix anything."   "Trust me, a hard knock on the noggin' works just fine ta sorte Sammy's bullshit." Norman smiled in passing at Dot who paused to watch him and then look at Buddy in concern once he peered out the bathroom door. "You two kids run along now. I'll see yous around." He tried not to laugh when he heard Buddy fretting over potentially getting fired for starting a fight. Kid still had a lot to learn about how Joey Drew Studios ran for all these years. Sometimes tough love was all it needed. But not this time.

     His nanna's tales rushed back to him when he'd cornered Sammy in his office. Norman didn't like roughing people up, but he'd promised the music director that if he stepped on any toes for the wrong reasons he'd give him a whooping like the one the blond had been begging for, back when he'd first harassed the projectionist. He had half a mind to start hollering until he'd caught sight of Sammy's eyes. Nanna had described insanity in great detail. The unfeeling and unfocused darkness in poppop's eyes that consumed the man she'd loved and left nothing behind. Sammy's eyes were a soft hazel, the nice flicker of green so full of the essence that made Sammy Lawrence who he was. What Norman saw instead of those pretty peepers were dark pools, a sickly grayish brown with flecks of blackness like tar. Like ink... Norman completely forgot what he was to say. He couldn't bring himself to talk when he saw the same thing that had tormented his nanna's dreams. It just wasn't right.

-

     Joey Drew was up to something, and Sammy was involved somehow. By his own volition, Norman wasn't too sure. The kid was acting mighty strange since Norman had noticed his eyes had inexplicably changed color, and whatever progress for positive change he'd made was completely gone. If anything, Sammy had become an incredibly volatile and aggressive husk. Very few people noticed, which was what was so concerning.   "It can't be a coincidence... Joey barely showin' his face 'round the departments and Sammy actin' up like the devil bit him in the ass..." He'd paced as he watched Jack drink what was likely the 5th cup of coffee he'd in the morning.   "Whatever it is, Sammy's more enthusiastic about his songs for a change..." He sounded nonchalant about it. "He complained about all the pieces Drew forced him to change... Now he's less, angry about those. Seems to love them actually."   "Those little annoying jigs? He said they was garbage!"   "And they are. Putting lyrics to those was dang awful but... Well if he's happy, I'm happy..." Jack gave a weak smile before coughing a rather wet sounding cough. He took another sip of his coffee to sooth his throat.   "You comin' down with somethin'?"   "Must be... This gross cough has been popping up a lot. And my nose is awfully stuffy. Can't smell or taste nothing, which is good considering I gotta hide away in the sewers to work..." Norman huffs. People were getting sick from being forced to do overtime with no rest. Jack getting sick wasn't entirely out of the question. But the stench of something acrid coming from his mug did give him cause for concern. Best check to see if Wally hadn't accidentally stored the coffee beans with the cleaning supplies again. A week later he forgets about it once he instead finds himself making a list of the people he stops seeing around the Studio not long after he noticed something up with Joey and Sammy.

     There's Jack, who he hadn't noticed gone at first until he'd gone poking around the sewers and not caught sight of the shorter lyricist. There was Johnny Brokehart, who's organ was completely abandoned in its little corner. No one dared touch it, in case the man returned and found so much as a pipe out of place. There was Julian Whitaker, the tall gangly cellist that often sat with the resident art critic, that Vernon fellow who liked to stare at the cartoon posters like they were masterpieces on display at a museum. Susie Campbell had gone too. Wally insisted she hadn't quit, and was awfully worried about her. Allison and Thomas had also up and split after they'd made a scene at one of them fancy parties Joey used to get investors to dump money into his lap. Shawn Flynn, Grant Cohen, Bertrum Piedmont, Lacie Benton, Emma LaMonte... People were vanishing left and right and there was no say of them being fired. Norman had a theory, and he didn't like it one bit. He tried to do his best to inform the younger hires to run before something inevitably happened to them. He told Buddy and Dot it was dangerous, in as little words he could so not to let Joey catch wind of what he did know. He prayed to whatever god was out there that no bad befell those two kids. And then he'd grabbed his light and went down, where the groaning and moaning came from.

-

     Norman ran. Ran as fast as he could, trying not to look at the things trapped in those tubes. The creatures that were tall, gangly, and vaguely humanoid. Weeping faces pressed to the glass, begging to be let out. The disgusting sludge creatures, barely holding themselves together and clawing at the glass in obvious suffering. The thing that had Sammy's voice and that was rushing after him, axe in hand and Bendy mask covering its face. Screaming at him to accept the "Lord's" blessing. He ran and dodged strikes that nicked his elbows, his legs, grazed his ankle and back... He came to a full stop before what could only be described as a throne. Horrified to find something twisted that looked like a humanoid corpse-like Bendy bound in chains. And then he was knocked onto the floor, air escaping his lungs from the sudden collision. The Sammy thing was on top of him, overjoyed to have caught him. And then all around, Joey Drew's voice filled the room... The thing on the throne shook and hissed.   "Excellent... You know what to do Prophet. Baptize this non-believer in the name of your lord."   "Anything for you my lord. Anything!" Norman tried to fight him off, knocked that silly mask off his face even. Except there was no face. Not even eyes. Windows to the soul... If he had none, then did Sammy even have a soul anymore? The axe raised, and Norman Polk didn't even have time to scream before it plunged into his chest, destroyed his ribcage, and obliterated his heart.

[yezzbub]

Idk what this is supposed to be, but I guess this is close to my own character analysis, review and reaction to Between Two Worlds! This is so late but I believe that it's better late than never😂 I'll also try to be as objective as possible (but I think that's gonna be hard especially when I talk about Philip/Phillip😂)

Again this is only about what I think and how I interpreted the series and the characters, no hate lol AND this is really long I swear by the stars :>

A. Title

Okay, so the title 'Between Two Worlds' initially made me think that it's gonna be about two people living in two different worlds and upon watching, I could say I'm partially right😂 so I like how it's suppose to symbolise the lives of two different families living in two different worlds. And when I say worlds it's not literally Earth and Mars, what I meant is like worlds as in how they live their lives.

So the Walfords are in the upper-class of society, they are rich, powerful, famous and feared especially because of their patriarch, Phillip. Their lives include deceiting, scaring, and messing with the lives of other people for their gain and pleasure🥺🥺🥺 in short, this fam is really problematic and chaotic😅

On the other hand, the Greys live a simple life in a simple house in a simple village. They have a loving family, yes, they had problems but it's normal for a family to have some problems.

B. Music

I really really love the music. That piano (I think it's piano) thing that is playing in the opening of every episode gives me the chills, the goosebumps. It makes me feel so many emotions like excitement, fear, and thrill,like it leaves me on the edge of my seat😂😭😂

C. Settings/Location

Deym, the location fits the story. I noticed that the main locations are their homes, it's where they mostly spend their scenes so I'm gonna focus on that. That high-rise apartment where the Walfords live screams privilege, fame, power and wealth. They are indeed powerful, they are at the top of the food-chain lol and they live at the top part of that apartment, a symbolism of their place in society _which is at the top. _I'm pretty sure their place makes them act like how they act all through out the series🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️.

On the other hand, the Greys' residence is located in a village(?) or subdivision of some sorts which I think is a simple place and a simple house symbolising their simple life that is away from the drama, away from the spotlight. Simple life gives simple problems I suppose😂😭😂😭😂

D. Families: an overview lolzz (Walfords, Greys, Konigs)

So like I've mentioned, the first two families seem to be the exact opposite of one another. Again, for me, the Walfords are so chaotic and so problematic🥺 the actions they did to one another just don't sit right with me, I think it's so twisted. Like it makes me realize how the grudges that people hold against others could make them act like that. It baffles me so much how they could even do that to each other?😳🥺 Are you so so hurt and so mad that you'll let your husband die in front of you and that you would just sit and chill on the stairs while he's suffering? And are you so hurt and so angry with your wife that you would imprison her in a cage so you could get back at her🥺 these people needs to chill and I think they need to let go of their grudges🥺😭🥺😭

For the Greys, well what can I say...they are pretty much normal, like they are how a family should be, what I could call the ideal. Again, they had problems but that problems were addressed and somehow solved🥺 I just like how the matriarch seems to be a perfect mother with a perfect relationship with her kids and the people around her but she's really like everyone else. She made mistakes and she wasn't even aware of the impact of her actions/words to her kids until her daughter mentioned it 🥺 but what I admire the most about her is that she's willing to take responsibility for her actions and to make amends(which I think the Walfords lack hehe)

Lastly, the Konigs. One word to summarize my thoughts about them: ugh. As much as how the Walfords have made a really bad impression on me, I think that these Konigs are worse than them lmao😂😭😂 this fam consists of the dad who is an unfaithful son of a gun who screwed the Walford matriarch and his hoho own daughter. The mom has some mental illness I'm not really sure about the specific illness which made her go to rehabs and kindaaaa drug dependent, and lastly, the daughter, she is a sly and a bad bitch with bad motives connected to bad people. I feel bad for the Konig youngling tho🥺 she's a bitch but I think no one deserves to be treated like how she was treated by her own father...that's a real disgusting act🥺😭🥺 so yeah, ugh.

E. Characters

Imma focus on them 👆 bec why not

1. Phillip Walford 👀👀

My babe, He is the Walford patriarch, he is a rich bastard who heads the Walford empire or whatever, who also suffers from a heart condition that he eventually needed to undergo a heart transplant. He's vicious and cruel and he's an I don't give a shit about your feelings kind of bastard. A man who probably suffered a lot from the trauma he had from his childhood oh poor bub😭😭 I also have every reason to hate him but I don't because I feel bad for him and his face and emotions,, it just makes me wanna hug him lol😂😭😭

He's like "I'm actually a nice guy but don't fuck with me" kind of man. He's also nosy and he sticks his nose to other people's businesses (Bella's plastic surgery) but I think he hates it when other people stick their noses in his business😂😂I love his sassy remarks and his nonchalant attitude especially towards his wife. He has reasonsss, he does that to punish her for something she had done years years ago that was something hehe quite unforgivable but hoho I could feel it and I could see it...I could feel that he is a jealous man who is in dire need of love and affection. That maybe he's actually still craving for her love and affection...but too bad, years of hostility towards each other had slowly burnt away the love they actually have for each other🥺

I like how he felt so bothered after the heart transplant because he felt that he's changing, he's getting softer, and getting more humane which he doesn't like because he thinks that his enemies would exploit that weakness against him🙄 I like how the badness and viciousness is so engraved to his bones and soul that the mere softness he's suddenly showing to those who surrounds him scares him a lot like a lot...

I also think that he really wants to forgive his wife,,,,but maybe his stubborn pride is hindering him from completely forgiving her...I also think that the reason he went out of his way to find his donor is, make a foundation for Danny, and like he really wanted to meet the Greys is because he somehow sees his ideal family when looking at them,,,it's like his what if, and a _I wish _and I think that's sad🥺😭🥺😭

This baby would have his world torn apart if he knew what his wife schemed on him

2.Cate Walford

She's Phillip's wife. I feel sorry for her especially for the first few episodes because her husband does not show her affection and love,,,he doesn't give her his time,,, he's giving her a hard time,,,and when she thought another man is giving her what she craves for,,,,her husband drove this man to his death or so they all thought lolzz I also like how she is actually a caring person, friend, mom, and wife👀👀

I know she did something unforgivable, she watched her husband have a heart attack, BUT she was initially really worried, she panicked like "Oh no, my husband is having a heart attack. What do I do?" Then she remembered that Phillip drove someone to their own death so she went ".....maybe you deserve to die, monster, how does it feel like tasting your own medicine you gave to others??" I don't forgive her for that tho hehe but that gave me a glimpse to what kind of person she really is.

Also, she's a very lucky woman and I'm veryyyy jealous because she has Phillip, a business tycoon and very jelly husband and eventually Dr. Julian, a well-known cardiologist, as her number two👀👀 I like her tandem with Sandra and I just went 🥺😭 when she opened up to her, like a girl talk of some sorts, it must have been so hard for her to keep all her thoughts and her regrets only to herself for a very long time. She's also pretty clever in a sly way because she schemed a plan against her husband to bring him back. Like bring her old husband back, the loving and caring Phillip Walford👀👀 she's determined to have their love back🥺🥺 BUT I JUST KNOW HELL WOULD BREAK LOSE IF AND WHEN PHILLIP FINDS OUT HER SCHEME HOHO

3. Bart Walford

He's the Walford heir and he's handsome but not as handsome as Phillip lol👀👀👀 he's wise and at the same time dumb🤭🙄 Wise because it would probably take some skills and some brains to appease investors to invest in their company and he did that when Phillip wasn't around. Dumb because he fell in love with a bitch with bad motives and he can't see it!!! 😔😔He loves her so much, he's basically blind ugh🥺🥺🥺

But I do admire how he's so ready to face and fight the whole world for Georgia,,, he'll do everything for her,,,he tries so hard to understand everything about her,,,his world seems to revolve around her and I think that's sooo bad😔👀👀 I mean I don't think that you really should make a person your world because if that person betrays and leaves you, your whole world will crumble apart and you're basically fucked🥺😭

As a 'son' , well,,,,he's a pretty nice who helps his 'father' scheme something to bring down threats for their business🤭👀 I like how defiant and fearless he could get when he got fed up with Phillip😂😭😂😭 I also like his relationship with his mom, they're closer than I initially thought and that he even helped her against Phillip🤭👀 so I therefore conclude that badness is not really innate in a person lolol😂😭😂😭

4. Georgia Konig

Ohoho,,, one word to describe her: bitch🙄 she's so good at manipulating people around her to get and do what she wants. She appeals to the emotions of people around her, making them feel sorry for her. I hate her so much. On top of that, she killed her own father,,, I wouldn't really blame her, he's really disgusting...

She wants to get a part of the Walfords' riches so she paved her way in through Bart. I just hate her so much because she's taking advantage of his feelings towards her🙄 little baby doesn't deserve to be treated like that, little baby deserves to be loved for real

To be honest,,, I don't really think she really loves him. I'm pretty sure that she feels something towards Bart but it's not real love, maybe she does like him a lot but she doesn't really really love him. She's just sticking with Bart because of his inheritance because she wants to have some of it and since she knows he's really into her...well,she took advantage of him🙄😭

I like her dry remarks tho, maybe it's just me but she makes me snort and chuckle sometimes. I also like her voice cause I think it's beautiful and really seductive, and really suitable for her character. She plays crazy pretty well for me too👀👀

5. Sandra

Oh, one of my favorite characters! Deym, she is so precious and I love her so much! She is a nurse that worked for the Walfords for a few months. She is bubbly, nice, loving, caring, and fearless. She puts the arrogant and stubborn ass of his boss in place which I love the most! She's not afraid to talk back to Phillip lol😂😭😂😭 she even called him an over privileged white man with anger issues when he's too stubborn while she's caring for him,,, that line was gold😭✊

Behind her smiles and witty remarks, she's actually going through something very hard in her life. Her son got disabled after getting involved in a skateboarding accident, her husband left them because of guilt, and since then she's been taking care of him🥺 which makes the working for the Walfords situation a saving grace for them.

Together with Cate, they schemed something against Phillip. They made him think that he has Danny's heart. She doesn't really want to fool the old man but because she was promised a fortune,,, for her son,,, even if the means weren't good,,, she said yes. It just shows her big respect and big trust on Cate, but I think, however close they are,,, fooling people isn't just in her moral compass so she'd probably get guilty about it😔

6. Sophia Grey

First off,, I think she's a great mom. I like how she really exerted effort to make the right things even if it costs her a lot. However,,apparently she has a trait which makes her act like everything is about her when it's actually not BUT atleast she could swallow her pride and she would actually try to make things right, which I think, deserves an applause👏👏 I mean that's rare for a parent to admit they're wrong👀👀

She's a loving mom, wife, and friend. She's not perfect but she makes effort on making herself a better person which I think the other characters lack lmaoooo😂😭😂😭I like how her love for her children is so big, and she's pretty much a normal mom. She is supportive of her children's shenanigans and all she wants is to see her children happy🥺

If she found out that she got lied to, I think she'll lose her respect for the Walfords👀👀

7. Danny Grey

We only got to see so little about him but here's what I think: he's handsome lol,,, he's athletic of course, a loving son, a loving fiance possibly a real husband material, and a PASSIONATE man! I mean the love he has for his family, his fiance, and his sport is just so great🥺🥺

It's sad how we only got to see so lil about him since his death is the drive of the plot, so okay,,,

8. Bella Grey

Oh, babyyy🥺🥺🥺 she's Danny's sister who's a very veryyyy talented girl! She plays the piano, she's musically inclined, she's pretty, soft, precious, and lovely! I'm gonna fight anyone who says otherwise😤

She felt as if she's only a shadow of his probably popular brother which makes her feel invisible. She thinks she's plain and that she's just sooo thankful that she's talented or else she's just nothing🥺😭🥺😭 I think it's sad how she resorted to plastic surgery to make herself seen and noticed. It's sad how she thought that changing herself would make her seen which made her think that she is the problem but babyyy nooo!! 🥺😭🥺😭

I love her relationship with her mum! They're like bestfriends and it's so lovelyyy🥺💖I love how she has strong intuition noticing and feeling the Walford's patriarch's seemingly uncharacteristic approaches on them👀👀 so yeah, I love her🥺💖

9. Dr. Julian Lee

He's the hot cardiologist of Mr. Walford and Mrs. Walford's number 2 lol😂 he's a well-known doctor so he probably have the skillz and the brains no wonder Cate fell for him. So, he's pretty much a good guy despite having an affair with a married woman because in my eyes he seems to treat her better🥺🥺🥺

I like how he banters with Phillip and their exchange of spicy words are gold👌I see how hurt he was when Cate decided to break up with him because it seems to get better with her husband BUT HE LET HER GO OMG,,, maybe he truly loves her?? Because he just wanted her to be happy?? I really would have wanted to see more of him🥺😔

10. David Starke

He's the coach and he's a widower who fell in love with Sophia Grey. Hmmm,,, he's pretty hot too lmaooo... He's a giant! He's also kind of a low-key asshole,,,

He was pretty okay during the first few episodes, he's always there to give support to the Greys, maybe because he's really a nice guy or maybe it's because he loves Sophia and he sees her as his wife 👀👀 I just kinda hated him when he started being a dick to Bella's friend who was just joking! He said something like he doesn't like his humor and that that kind of humor is the last resort of being likeable if the person is not actually attractive and I was like whut bruh??? WhAt?🥴🥴

I'd love to see how his relationship with Sophia would continue especially that he was initially jealous of Phillip bec he was tooooo close to her (David doesn't know the reason why) and it was hinted in that godforsaken ending that they learned about the lie,, I would have wanted to see how he would react and how he would confront the Walford patriarch about it😔

11. Mikael

So he's the bearded buff diver guy. He was an ex military (?) and is now a mercenary. He's close to Georgia, I'm not just sure if it's just because of her money or something else. So he's pretty much a fucked up guy. He's clever, he's strong, he's hot, he's handsome, he's scary, and he's probably crazy too.

He does anything and everything, as long as you will pay him his price. He's also the type of guy who you should be afraid of getting on his bad side because he will make sure he would get back at you.

12. Bishop Welles

One of my most hated character, he's an enabler and I hate him😤 he's that calm old bishop who threw shade to Phillip Walford, a well-known business tycoon, during his friend's funeral. Like,,, he's saying that Phillip must have done something driving the death of his friend, Mr. Konig. Making Phillip withdrew all donations to that church lol

He also never believed Georgia's testimonies that she was being raped by her own father and even called her father to get her. He made her life worse.

F. Plot

To be honest, I liked the plot... I love how it started with having glimpses of how these families live their different lives away from each other. I like how the main motif of this series is revenge, greediness, and how family relationship differs,,, I really love how the plot is so new to me that it hooked me up into watching the whole thing making me look forward into it for every week. I remember doing the math so I could watch it live, having a mini heart attack when my Internet was being nuts lagging at the pivoting moments of the show, and squealing every time Philip goes to view lmaooo😂😭😂😭

I honestly like the twists and all, I really liked how the story went until that fucking ending.

8 eps in and I was like 😳 "gosh, there are so many happenings how would everything be resolved for the last two episodes??" and "there are more bombs to be dropped yet hcndkaodns." Then the writer went "haha, nonsense plot twists and cliff hangers go brr" and he basically ruined a good show I HATE IT SO MUCH. Maybe IF they're gonna renew the series and will have a season 2 where everything would be actually resolved like how a decent plot happens, then okay, I'll forgive you, Mr writer. But leaving us, the viewers, hanging like that after that wtf kind of ending is just too cruel and just too selfish 😔✊ I even recommended this show to my friends and they're pretty fine with it and like me, they think the plot is cool up until that stupid ending...

It was a real roller-coaster ride of emotions, I love how it made me feel. The constant 'oh my god, I love where this show is going' and 'this is so good' made me feel so happy except that ending...It was actually my stress-reliever although the plot is sooo stressful to the nth power lol

Will I recommend it to other people?? Well,,,, sureee why not?! I mean if I want them to know why I'm simping over a 60 year old big man, oh why not🤭🤭 For the story?? For revenge maybe? I want them to feel robbed off a good ending and I want them to hate the ending too as much as I hate it lolololll kidding aside, welp, yeah, I'd still recommend it to make them feel the roller coaster of emotions I also felt🤭👀👀

[quoththewriter]

The audience was enthralled, watching Jaskier's moves and clinging to his every word. The bard was singing the latest addition to his Witcher Cycle. This year he  was presenting an epic narrating the story of the School of the Wolf. A complex and cleverly written piece, Valdo had to concede. Not that he'd be caught saying it to any soul. 

Essi, next in line to perform, was watching him with an evil smirk. Valdo had half a mind to be worried, so he just rolled his eyes and attempted to divert her attention.

"Your friend becomes more predictable each year."

"Tends to happen when you're working on a cycle, Val," she was biting her lip, most likely stifling a laugh.

They both turned to Jaskier, now playing his cycle's motif. A beautiful and simple melody that reminded everyone of past songs, with a single, subtle discordant note creating tension towards the end of the phrase.

"You know," Essi started, "I thought you would have settled this nonsense by the end of our first year."

Valdo watched Jaskier eyeing the witcher from time to time. The hulking man sitting near the stage, looking uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving. His eyes never left Jaskier, though, and Jaskier's eyes glinted like embers each time their gazes met through the crowd.

Valdo had never wanted to smother Jaskier more than in that moment.

"I see," Essi said.

"You really don't," he gritted through his teeth.

They remained silent until Jaskier finished his piece. The bard quickly bowed and trotted towards them.

"Essi, dear!" Jaskier's laugh was throaty and warm. 

He gathered his friend in his arms with a blinding smile and a kiss to her temple. Essi only laughed, used to his antics.

"I'm next, I'm next," she swatted his arm, impatient.

"Take their breath away, dear heart," there were tears at the corner of his eyes. They hadn't seen each other since the last bardic competition.

Essi walked away before she, too, could get emotional. Which left Jaskier turning to Valdo, recognition flaring in those eyes.

"Valdo," Jaskier drawled, carelessly leaning against the edge of the wooden stage.

"Julian," Valdo faked indifference.

He saw, then, that dangerous gleam in Jaskier's eyes. Valdo remembered wide-eyed, sad-eyed young Jaskier that first year of university. No one ever knew what happened back at Lettenhove, Jaskier never mentioned his family or county. He'd only started to look like a living thing when he raised up to Valdo.

That edge in his eyes, glinting like a knife in the dark, always making Valdo falter. He knew, in that moment before the storm, that Jaskier only saw him. 

"Kindly step off a cliff, my sweet." Jaskier's voice never lost that syrupy tone. "Play that horrid minor chord you chose as a motif while you're at it."

"Are you going to grade the jump, Julian?"

"Oh, no. No grading, just encouraging." He placed his right hand over his heart, faking sentiment.

"Oh, is that a direct quote from your class syllabus?" Valdo said delicately. "I've heard they're nasty things, your students. Poor younglings."

Something hardened in those clear blue eyes, alarms going off in Valdo's brain. Jaskier did set his hair on fire once and Valdo was rather attached to his meticulously styled curls.

"No one ever makes a change with stifled thoughts, sweet thing," there was nothing sweet in Jaskier's leer.

There was nothing else any of them could day, so they just turned and watched Essi perform. Jaskier had won the competition three times in the last four years, but Essi won two years ago. She always made it difficult for them when the judges graded the performances. She was that good.

Jaskier clapped so hard that Valdo immediately saw his palms turn crimson. He wondered what the bard would do when Valdo played. He scoffed, kicking himself mentally.

"Having second thoughts about that plain ballad of yours?" Jaskier asked, batting his lashes at him.

"Go choke."

"Oh, I plan to," Jaskier's smile turned lascivious before turning to the witcher, who was stalking them like a predator. Valdo wondered if he could hear them.

"Your choice of bedmates continues to be, surprisingly, worse than your choice of metaphors." Valdo scrunched his nose, seeing the witcher's eyes harden.

"Excuse you, my metaphors are perfectly chosen, as are all my companions." Jaskier eyed him up and down. Valdo felt naked.

"Really? You should have stopped at the third animal metaphor." Valdo sneered. "It's slowly becoming a bestiary."

"Oh, says the man using minor chords to convey melancholy instead of actual lyrics. How many minutes of instrumental introduction for this year's piece, huh?"

"How dare you! I was top of the class in poetry." Valdo poked Jaskier's chest with a finger.

"You fucked Professor Kent!"

"Someone sounds bitter," Valdo sing-songed in Jaskier's ear, eyes locked with the witcher.

The white-haired man stood, making his way to them. 

Valdo heard the audience's roar after Essi's performance. Jaskier trembled at the sudden breath in his neck. 

The witcher was almost upon them when Valdo caught Jaskier's earlobe between his teeth. He felt more than heard the strangled noise his fellow bard made. The witcher was now pushing people out of his way, teeth bared.

Sick satisfaction curled inside Valdo's chest when he felt Jaskier gulp at the lick he gave the tender flesh between his teeth.

"I doubt he makes you sing like I'd do," Valdo whispered before running up the stairs in a haste, almost colliding with Essi on the steps. 

He saw Jaskier trying to keep the witcher in place, those unnatural eyes promising murder. Valdo just gave him his best smile and stepped in the centre of the stage.

[cat-brodsky]

The Secret History: Abridged (part 1)

Fair use disclaimer: The following text is intended as a parody and literary commentary of the published book “The Secret History” by Donna Tartt. Some direct quotations from the book, constituting a very low percentage of the original, have been integrated in the parodic text where appropriate. The author of this text neither profits nor intends to profit from it.

Dramatis personae

Richard Papen, the narrator, a perpetually starry-eyed youth with all the agency of the proverbial sexy lamp

Julian Morrow (played by King Julian of Madagaskar), a Greek professor who doesn’t actually teach

         The Toffs, as viewed through Richard’s rose-tinted glasses:

Henry Winter, a young genius, deeply devoted to Julian

Bunny Corcoran, an uncouth older student with a heart of gold deep inside

Francis Abernathy, a refined yet sensitive youth

Charles Macaulay, a young man who sometimes has a bit too much to drink

Camilla Macaulay, an exquisite beauty, the only girl in the clique

Judy Poovey, the only character in the book with both brains and heart

Georges “I told you so” Laforgue

the greek chorus (played by a person in a floral bedsheet toga with two sockpuppets)

The Fans, seated in the front row of the audience

The farmer, brutally murdered by four rich kids on a drug trip

     Chapter 1, in which Richard joins a cult (and the greek chorus monologues)

Richard: My name is Richard Pipen and I like pretty things. Maybe that’s cause my childhood was real poor and real awful.

Richard: I even picked Hampden College cause it looked pretty in the recruitment brochure. I have no friends, I failed pre-med, and the only thing I’m okay at is Greek language. …Guess I’ll take Greek.

Georges (the French teacher): Monsieur, I’m afraid zat will be a problem. You see, ze Greek teacher is incredibly… selective about his students. And by selective, I mean on a personal level.

Richard: oh, so he’s gay.

Georges: Non! He isolates his students, he grooms them to have ze same views as himself, and ze only reason ze school puts up with him is because he refuses his salary!

Richard: I dunno, my dad beat me before and after dinner, so this sounds perfectly healthy to me. Guess I’ll go knock on his door.

    Richard: knocks on Julian’s door …Please let me study Greek.

Julian: Why, that’s rather quaint of you, young man, but I’m afraid my class is filled to the brim. Only got space for five people, you see. Very rigorous, that. Anyway, excuse me, I have a princess to tutor. Istrami royalty, though I don’t assume you would know. pauper

Richard: But-

door slam

    Henry and the Four Toffs: stroll the campus, looking pretty

Richard: drools

But I watched them with interest whenever I happened to see them: Francis, stooping to talk to a cat on a doorstep; Henry dashing past at the wheel of a little white car, with Julian in the passenger’s seat; Bunny leaning out of an upstairs window to yell something at the twins on the lawn below. Slowly, more information came my way. Francis Abernathy was from Boston and, from most accounts, quite wealthy. Henry, too, was said to be wealthy; what’s more, he was a linguistic genius. He spoke a number of languages, ancient and modern, and had published a translation of Anacreon, with commentary, when he was only eighteen. The twins had an apartment off campus, and were from somewhere down south. And Bunny Corcoran had a habit of playing John Philip Sousa march tunes in his room, at full volume, late at night.

Not to imply that I was overly preoccupied with any of this.

the greek chorus: yeah riiight

Richard: totally not eavesdropping on The Four Toffs studying Greek

Bunny: Ablative!

Charles: That’s Latin, you dumb-

Richard: Excuse me? I’m sorry, but would the locative case do?

Bunny: Thanks, man, you helped a lot. Wish you were in our class.

awkward silence

Henry, appearing out of nowhere: Ah, yes, the archaic locative. Are you a Homeric scholar?

Richard: …I like Homer.

Henry: Oh, you “like” Homer? Name all the 1,186 ships in the Catalogue.

Henry: fake fans smh

    Richard: All my life, I’ve dealt with poor jerks, so dealing with rich jerks sounded way more appealing. I figured I’d do what worked with my old man - lie my ass off. Excuse me, Dr. Roland, I need uh two hundred dollars from my financial aid? It’s for my uh car, it’s the uh transmission.

the greek chorus: that’s 548 dollars in 2020 money. also, is everyone in this book named after a historical figure?

Richard: knocks on Julian’s door again, having bought one hundred [274] dollars’ worth of expensive clothes

Julian: Oh my, and to think I mistook you for a peasant the first time. Come in, young man - any relation to French kings? Are you from California? What do you do in California?

Richard: Oh, you know… money, orange groves, money, ennui and more money - wow, he’s actually buying it.

Julian: Even Plato knew that class and conditioning and so forth have an inalterable effect on the individual. cough that’s why I only tutor rich and classy students. cough I’m afraid my students are never very interesting to me because I always know exactly what they’re going to do.

the greek chorus: fly, you fool

Richard: listens with stars in his eyes

Julian: Young man, I will take you on as a student, but you must take me on as your academic counselor, drop all your classes and pick up the ones I tell you to. Most of them are going to be with me - you know, a great diversity of teachers is harmful for the young mind.

Richard: Oh wow, that sounds elite and exclusive and totally not like a weird cult.

    Georges “The Voice of Reason” Laforgue: Mon Dieu, are you serious? Do you understand how isolated you’ll be from ze rest of ze college? What if you have a disagreement? What if he is unfair to you? And this man is so elitist - why, that’s ze first time he’s accepted a student on financial aid! …Does he know you’re on financial aid?

Richard: I’m not gonna tell him.

the greek chorus: annnd he switches majors

    Francis: Cubitum eamus?

Richard: what? who?

the greek chorus: did he just say “Wanna fu-”

The Fans: oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooohh!

Bunny: Get a load of this guy. Henry actually bought himself a Montblanc pen just cause Julian loves them. And he used to say they were ugly. What was it, three hundred [822] bucks?

Henry: You “studied” Greek? Recite every single Greek poem.

Henry: fake fans smh. Now I’ll speak Latin and flex on you some more.

Bunny: Don’t be a prick, Henry.

Julian, coming in fashionably late:

He was a marvelous talker, a magical talker, and I wish I were able to give a better idea what he said, but it is impossible for a mediocre intellect to render the speech of a superior one – especially after so many years – without losing a good deal in the translation.

the greek chorus: do you know what it means when someone talks big and beautiful and yet you can’t remember the talking points? means they’re talking nonsense

Julian: Though after all your Xenophon and Thucydides I dare say there are not many young people better versed in military tactics. Because, as you know, ancient Greek battle tactics are still valid in our modern age! Do you feel sufficiently special and superior, my lab m- lovely students?

Henry: The six of us could conquer Hampden town!

the greek chorus: this is new england, you’d get shot like deer

Richard, stars in his eyes: Awwwww he said six of us!

Camilla: recites from Aganemnnon

How quiet he sinks now - his soul starts from his mouth:

with one jerked gulp he brings up his own blood,

spatters me dark with the scarlet dew in his breath.

And that dew falls on me as the gods’ spring rains

fall and bless harvest back to the long-parched earth.

Julian: Now, why is this so beautiful?

the greek chorus: cause there’s no mention of the dying king voiding his bowels

Francis: It’s the meter - iambic pentameter.

The Greek Chorus: In a way, the discussion that follows is some pretty hefty foreshadowing. The subject is horrible - a dying man gurgling, choking on blood, spits it out all over his killer - but the way it’s described is poetic and makes the reader enamored with the act of murder.

This is exactly what Tartt does later on.

Five rich, entitled young people have a drug-fueled orgy, trespass, and beat an innocent farmer to death. But call an orgy a bacchanal, and it’s suddenly classy and beautiful.

Henry: Death is the mother of beauty.

The Fans: oooooooooooohhh!

Julian: And what is beauty?

Henry: Terror.

The Fans: OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHH!

the greek chorus: this toxic belief is so not gonna backfire

“Are we, in this room, really very different from the Greeks or the Romans? Obsessed with duty, piety, loyalty, sacrifice? All those things which are to modern tastes so chilling?”

I looked around the table at the six faces. To modern tastes they were somewhat chilling. I imagine any other teacher would’ve been on the phone to Psychological Counseling in about five minutes had he heard what Henry said about arming the Greek class and marching into Hampden town.

the greek chorus: richard, you idiot sandwich

Julian: The Romans’ genius and fatal flaw was their obsession with order! The Greeks knew not to deny the irrational! This is why Romans, usually so tolerant of foreign religions, persecuted the Christians mercilessly – how absurd to think a common criminal had risen from the dead, how appalling that his followers celebrated him by drinking his blood. The illogic of it frightened them-

The Greek Chorus: The Romans valued loyalty to the state, which meant practicing the state religion. Local beliefs were okay as long as they didn’t contradict that.

Christians placed their god, monotheistic God, above the emperor. The First Commandment forbids the worship of other gods, and this includes refusing to take part in feasts, to offer incense to the emperor - this was disloyalty to the Empire. Judaism, it seems, got a pass on the same because of the ancient origin of the religion.

Furthermore, the persecution of Christianity was sporadic until Decius’ decree mandating participation in public sacrifices, and even then this edict was not universally obeyed - the Empire was far too large and too diverse. Not to mention, a lot of the accounts of persecution and martyrdom were invented by Christian historians.

Julian is full of it, and a five minute Google search can tell you as much.

Richard: wow, #deep

Julian: …And that’s why Bacchanals are good fun for the whole family!

    Chapter 2, in which Bunny invites Richard to dinner (and then nothing happens)

Judy: So you’re hanging out with those posh guys now?

Richard: What if I am

Judy: I don’t know, they’re bad news. Like, I was at a party, everyone was slam dancing, and this girl was walking across the dance floor for some reason and got mad when I slammed into her. And like I threw a beer at her, it was that kind of night, and this Henry guy and her brother Charles came to yell at me? And my friend Spike saw that and came to defend me, and then Henry and Charles beat Spike to a pulp. Those people are crazy.

Richard, stars in his eyes: Gee whiz, Henry is badass.

Judy: Aren’t you hot in this tweed jacket? Like, here, you can have another one for free if you like it.

    Bunny: Nice jacket, dude

Richard: Thanks, it’s a family relic

Bunny: Anyway, why are there so many [slur omitted] working in restaurants? Oh man, I remember when we pulled a dine and dash here, all in good fun, and then Dad took us here for drinks and it’s a good thing he was so soused he didn’t notice the waiter putting it all on his bill.

the greek chorus: boy, it sure is a good thing the cops don’t get called on rich people

Bunny: And Henry’s so damn smart, you know? He was in a bad car accident, had to stay in bed reading all those old books, and now he’s really into it and he speaks seven to eight languages, even reads them hieroglyphics.

Richard: well, Bunny’s kind of an ass but he’s not an ass to me, sounds good

Bunny: Whoops, forgot my wallet.

Richard: …never mind

the greek chorus: the bill is, quote, two hundred and eighty-seven dollars and fifty-nine cents [786 dollars]. without the tip. twenty percent more is about tree fiddy [950 dollars]

Bunny: …I’ll call Henry. He’ll be chuffed to bail us out.

Henry: is not chuffed Bunny freeloads off people all the time.

Richard: wow that’s… imagine doing that haha

    Richard: totally not eavesdropping again

Henry: Should I do what is necessary?

Julian: You should only, ever, do what is necessary.

the greek chorus: this will definitely not be taken at face value

    if richard had a tweeter

“Reading The Great Gatsby. #relatable #billionaire-life”

“Attended a party, mingled with the hoi polloi. Plebs. How I long to be elsewhere.”

    Camilla: Come to the country house with us

Richard: totally not freeloading

    if the secret history was a movie

Happy times montage. Classical music plays over the country house; it is revealed that Charles, quite drunk but still composed, is playing the piano. Henry and Camilla are in a rowboat together, with Henry monologuing, unheard to the viewers, as she listens with rapt wonder. Bunny is pouring champaigne from a teapot. Occasional moments of foreshadowing in between the happy times - a pot of laurel leaves boiling on the stove, Richard wandering the house in the middle of the night and finding that everyone is gone - and back to happy times, playing cricket, fancy dinners with Julian. Everything looks pretty, classy, and expensive.

    Chapter 3, in which Richard is more an idiot than usual

The Five Toffs: leave for the winter holidays

Richard: I need a place to stay. Henry’s place is empty, I could ask my other friends to sublet to me, or split the bills with somebody… Nah, there’s this hippie who lets you live for free in his warehouse. I’m in.

The warehouse: literally has a hole in the roof

The Hippie: It’s all a metaphor, man. The situation is obviously dysfunctional, but Richie boy just assumes that it’s normal and he’s gonna be fine. Deep, man.

Richard: I’m sure I’ll be fine. gets pneumonia

Henry: Good thing I came back early, or you’d be dead.

Richard: Y-you saved my life, man. …Can you please bring me a mag to read?

Henry: …You must be raving. Here, I brought you a Pharmacology Update from the lounge.

    Bunny: comes back

Henry: is avoiding him

the greek chorus: that’s all, really

    Chapter 4, in which something finally happens

Bunny: Richard, man, Henry is not who he pretends to be. Be careful.

Richard: You mean, he’s gay? That can’t be right. My gaydar says it’s Francis; Henry’s straight. And I’m not gay, but if I was, Bunny wouldn’t be attractive. I mean, he’s handsome, but he’s rough trade, you know what I mean. Not my type.

    Richard: Oh no, I left my book in Henry’s apartment. I’ll have to find it there. …Weird, why does he have a flight to Argentina reserved? And why were the four of them, minus Bunny, absent from classes?

cheesecake in the fridge: please don’t steal me, I’m on financial aid

Bunny: Mm, too lemony but tastes better flavored with tears.

Richard: Haha, screw the poor

Bunny: Man, Henry’s a bit of a Jew. I like him tho.

    Bunny: keeps making weird crime-and-punishment jokes before class

Richard: Good old Bunny, such a jester.

The Toffs: tell a weirdly rehearsed story about their absence

Julian: notices absolutely nothing

    Henry: Don’t you want to know about our trip to Argentina? By which I mean, I know you snooped.

Richard: Man, why the secrecy? It’s not like you murdered someone.

Henry: Yeah, about that...

flashback time

Henry: The four of us must flee to Argentina. But there’s no way I can get my hands on more than thirty thousand [80,418 dollars]. Francis, you have a trust, right?

Francis: Yeah, I can withdraw one hundred and fifty thousand [402,090] a year. ...Bad news, my mum cleared it out.

The Toffs, in unison: What? Do you mean we’d have to live like the poor? Or worse, resort to menial labor? That is inconceivable.

the greek chorus: and they didn’t go to argentina.

Henry: We had but a meager five thousand [13,403 dollars] between us. Anyway, why did you cover up for us?

Richard:

Henry: So yeah we decided to take drugs, party, and fornicate, like everybody else in this college does. Except we’re rich and smart and we’re calling it a bacchanal, because it’s classier that way.

Henry: Julian knew and approved, by the way, but you’re not gonna learn this until chapter five.

Henry: And Bunny just wasn’t taking our posh rave seriously. I caught him eating when he was supposed to be fasting. Barbarian.

Henry: Anyway, when we all came down from our trip, we were drenched in blood and there was a corpse of a middle-aged middle-class man with his neck broken and his brains splattered and a huge gash in his stomach. And worse, he was wearing an ugly plaid shirt.

Henry: I haven’t been so upset since I hit a deer with my car. Oh, hi, Francis.

    Chapter 5, in which we forget about the farmer

Francis: oh no did you just tell him

Henry: Oh yes I did.

Richard, still starry-eyed: Why didn’t you call the police?

Henry: Yeah, right. We’re too rich to be judged by poor people.

Francis: It was just an accident, a little harmless fun.

Henry: Imagine being tried for my life by a Vermont circuit-court judge and a jury box full of telephone operators.

Francis: They’d just say that we are a bunch of rich entitled kids who got high and trespassed on private land and tore an innocent man to pieces.

the greek chorus: THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID

Henry: If Bunny snitches, we’re dragging him in too. He has no alibi. Can’t prove he wasn’t with us. He saw us dressed in bedsheets and covered in gore and got upset for no reason at all. Dropped a pint of ice-cream on my antique rug. Honestly, that was the last straw.

Henry: I paid for our trip together in Italy to shut him up, but then he found my diary - in which I happened to write a poem about our Bacchanal in iambic pentameter. I didn’t think the rube could even read. I slapped him rather hard, and he took offense to that. And now we have no choice but keep letting him mooch off us!

Francis: It's a terrible thing, what we did. I mean, this man was not Voltaire we killed. But still. It's a shame. I feel bad about it.

Henry: But not bad enough to want to go to jail for it.

Francis: snorts No, not that bad.

Henry: So... wanna play cards?

    the greek chorus: here comes a turning point in the story. will richard do the moral thing, will he turn his friends in?

the greek chorus: yeah, right

    The Toffs: Time for a road trip!

Richard: It’s odd how little power the dead farmer exercised over an imagination as morbid and hysterical as my own. Oh well, nobody cares about poor people.

Julian: In America, the rich man tries to pretend that the poor man is his equal in every respect but money, which is simply not true. A poor man who wishes to rise above his station is only making himself needlessly miserable. And the wise poor have always known this, the same as do the wise rich.

Bunny: You don't care about a goddamn thing, do you? Not a thing but your own self, you and all the rest of them!

the greek chorus: edmund corcoran, the bigot, the idiot of the group - the only one who cares about the murder

  Richard: And now Bunny’s acting like a huge ass to me and to my friends. Gee, that’s no fun at all.

Richard: He’s nagging Charles about him being a drunk, Francis about him being gay, and me about being poor! And Camilla about being a girl, but women are inherently inferior in Greek language, nothing personal. And he’s implying the twins sleep together!

the greek chorus: all of these are true

    Henry: I know! I shall poison my traitorous friend with death cap mushrooms mixed in with fun trip mushrooms. The ancient Arabic treatises on poisons must still be relevant.

the greek chorus: textbook high Intelligence low Wisdom

Henry: Richard, my friend, weren’t you in pre-med?

Richard: Uhh I guess, let me just... add the number of mushrooms, carry the one - jeez, that’s some advanced calculus...You know, the concentrations in chemistry are measured in moles, so we have catch a mole first...

Henry: I tested it on two dogs. Sadly, one lived.

Richard: Oh, Henry, you’re such a rascal. First a farmer, now a dog? Anyway,   those mushrooms are just too funny-shaped. It’s just too hard.

Henry: Why don’t you weigh - you know what, nevermind, I can see I’m dealing with a genius.

    Julian: I’m so concerned for young Edmund! He’s such a lovely and smart boy...

Richard: yeah, right - I mean, bright. Very bright.

Julian: I fear he may be about to convert to Christianity! Not even Catholicism, but something plebian. He keeps asking me about sin and forgiveness - how very... not Greek of him.

    Bunny, piss drunk in the middle of the night: Richard, man, I can’t take it, I just have to confess - they killed a man! Tore him to pieces!

Richard: Guys, this is bad, Bunny just told me.

Henry: Welp, got no choice but to kill him. He’s acting so irrational.

Richard: Yeah, and he’s been real racist and bigoted lately -

Charles: I know, right? Why can’t he be more like us and hate on poor, classless people instead?

Henry: re-rolls wisdom We’ll push him into the ravine in the forest he conveniently loves hiking in. Piece of cake.

     Judy: Rich, there’s gonna be a big party, come have fun!

Henry: Who’d have known there would be a party? Aside from, I mean, everyone who doesn’t live in their own Greek bubble. Oh well, guess I’ll dig for ferns instead.

Bunny: Hey, guys, whatcha doing?

Henry: Oh, you know... killing time. Now, who wants to see a flying rabbit?

[where-the-wind-is]

The Dog Dies at the End (oneshot)

Fandom:  The Arcana (Visual Novel)

Rating: General Audiences

Words:1536 Chapters:1/1  Lucio (The Arcana)/Reader

“Oh I’m so worried about her” the count cooed for the umpteenth time that day, combing his non-metal fingers through Mercedes’ unruly white fur.

The dog in question breathed heavily as she lay, sprawled across Lucio’s lap. For weeks and weeks the poor girl had been very ill; never playing, refusing meals, vomiting, it was concerning how off she was. You sit in thought at Lucio’s side on his lavish bed and watch Melchior pace restlessly on the carpet below. Whimpers and growls revealing the other dogs growing concern for his partner.

“Maybe we should have Julian look at her again?” You suggest half-heartedly, fully prepared for him to snap at you. He almost does from the look on his face, but he doesn’t have the energy to follow through. Instead, he just sighs and drops his head, burying his face in the sick dogs’ silky fur.

“No…Jules already said he’s stumped. He’s a person-doctor, not a dog-doctor.” The count laments, voice muffled by Mercedes’ mane.

“Then we should find a dog-doctor! That’s a thing, right?” You continue, now he snaps.

“You think I didn’t try?!” He spits harshly, sitting up abruptly yet careful not to jostle his precious baby. “Specialists are rare and expensive and Nadia said it would be ‘a waste of taxpayer money’” He continues bitterly. Quietly you lean in closer to him and drape an arm across his hunched back, offering what little comfort you can.

You’d had this conversation before in the months Mercedes had been sick, it always ended like this. Sullen and argumentative and ultimately hopeless. Melchior stops pacing and rests his chin on the bed, snuffling Mercedes’s fur with a small whine. You feel your heart breaking for the poor boys watching a family member slip slowly away.

With a hiccup that might’ve been a suppressed sob, Lucio carefully extracts himself from under the beautiful canine.

“I…I have to…not be here” he fumbles his words, making his way to his bedroom door. Melchior follows him curiously but stops in the doorway.

“You’re leaving her alone?” You ask quietly. You aren’t passing judgment, just asking him to say it out loud. He gulps loudly, facing away from you. Metal hand pressed to the wall as if he’d collapse without the support.

“Yes, I can’t…I have busi…*sniff* business and …I can’t watch it…” his shoulders shake but you pretend not to notice, he obviously doesn’t want you to see his crying.

“Ok” is your quiet reply. “You want me to come with you?” You ask wondering if he’d prefer your comfort to any form of solitude. He shakes his head vigorously, casting a nervous glance back at you.

“No no, stay with her…I don’t want h-her to be alONE!” The end of the sentence turns into a squeal as the tears he’d been holding in finally catch in his throat. You watch him stomp quickly away and turn your eyes back on the suffering borzoi. She looks sick and exhausted but not in imminent danger of death. Was Lucio simply assuming the worst? Melchior leaps gracefully to the decadent comforter of the bed and starts grooming Mercedes’ ears.

In time Mercedes’ shallow pants become soft whines. You reach out a hand to comfort her and almost get maimed as Melchior snaps and snarls.

What?

Mercedes’ whining grows more strained and you begin to panic. Why was she in pain? Why was Melchior being so aggressive all of the sudden? You consider getting Lucio but decide he’d just freak out and make the situation worse. Instead, you make sure the dogs are as comfortable as possible and you sit back to observe.

0He wasn’t proud of leaving them, but he couldn’t bear to see his baby girl in that much pain. Lucio sat curled on a plush sofa he’d designated his crying sofa™ and wept for the poor babies. He knew Mercedes didn’t have long, and Melchior would never hold out without his girl. Lucio couldn’t believe he’d lose them so soon, and with another sudden wave of sadness, he remembered that he’d left them alone.  

But that was hours ago.

Now he couldn’t help the pathetic sobs that racked him, and he wasn’t even ashamed anymore. He’d been with those dogs for so long it was like a piece of his soul was dying. This was the end of a huge chapter of fighting for glory and fleeing from his past. All of it with those two beautiful canines by his side.

He kept oscillating between disbelief and complete despair. He’d be so sad and then realize it was actually happening and the grief would drag him deeper. It wasn’t fair! They were only…well he didn’t know how old they were but they weren’t old. They were playful and healthy and they could have easily lived another ten years. Lucio actually couldn’t breathe for a moment from the force of his crying, he didn’t care if he was ruining the suede upholstery.

This was the end, the end. Nothing could fix this, nothing could ever be the same.

He buried his fingers in his hair and pulled as his thoughts seemed to growl at him. The mantra of failure and endings repeating over and over. Refusing to be silent. It was an unexpected voice that pulled him out of the quicksand.

“Lucio?”

His head snapped up at the audacity of the doctor to interrupt his suffering. Quickly his anger turned to fear as he realized the state Jules had caught him in.

“You uh…” Julian looked away, mildly uncomfortable with the sight of the count crying. Not just crying but outright sobbing in abject heartbreak. “MC wanted me to get you, it seemed urgent”

Lucio tossed the words around in his exhausted mind, taking several minutes to realize their meaning. Finally, he felt his stomach sink at the implication.

She was gone.

Numbly Lucio stood and walked past the doctor, not even offering a nod. His legs carried him without his input through the familiar halls of his wing. Expensive paintings featuring the friends he was about to lose mocking him as he trudged.

Coming to the room he’d left, he stood outside the extravagant door. He needed to open it, but he couldn’t find the strength to lift his arm, so instead, he used the magic one. At least there was a modicum of detachment with the gesture. His heart cracked in two as he heard the squealing cry’s that no doubt came from Melchior. Without letting himself hesitate he pushed the heavy door open.

And his heart stopped.

There on his bed was the single sight that could bring him to his knees, and it did. He didn’t even feel the impact as he hit the ground, kneeling in the doorway. Mercedes laid where he left her, breathing heavily with exertion but obviously sleeping. That, however, was not the sight that knocked the wind out of the count.

The sight was that of you carefully cradling several tiny, whining fur balls in your lap, wrapped in a pillowcase.

“Puppies…” you mutter disbelieving to the man who collapsed in the doorway.

Melchior curled himself around your right side, flush against you so he could reach the puppies you held. Dutifully licking each one and making sure they could cry.

Suddenly Lucio was light-headed.

All the building stress and sadness from the months Mercedes had been “sick” suddenly left him. The weight releasing him was so euphoric he swore he could’ve floated away. You almost looked like you were glowing as you cleaned each little pup and placed them by their mother to nurse.

“Puppies…” Lucio repeated you softly, it was all his mind would say.

0Four.

He thought he’d lost his two best friends but instead, he gained four furry little jellybeans. Beautiful coats were already as soft as silk. Big mismatched eyes and even bigger paws. Mercedes woke healthy and happy a few hours after her ordeal was over and Lucio was immediately by her side to cuddle her and shower her with affection.

He had been so scared and so convinced it was the end. In his head, he’d built it up to be the death of everything he loved and the culmination of all his mistakes. Yet in the end, it was only the birth of something beautiful. Literally.

You had taken a liking to a particular puppy, the second one born. His curiosity was only trumped in cuteness by his folded ears. Lucio watched the little fur ball climb clumsily over your shoulders and through your hair, long nose nudging into everything it could reach. You must’ve noticed him looking so you fix him with a stare, carefully untangling the pup from your hair.

“Shouldn’t you go tell Nadia there’s gonna be more dogs running around?” you ask, chuckling as the disoriented, floppy eared boy wobbles away.

“I can’t go anywhere, I’m a father now.” He responds with the utmost seriousness, one puppy in each hand and the third climbing up his chest. Mercedes snorts in a way that could’ve been interpreted as laughter, Melchior follows unnecessarily close behind the floppy-eared puppy as he hobbles across the bedspread.

0End notes:

Nadia wasn’t being a dick by not letting Lucio hire a vet. She knew Mercedes was fine and just wanted to see Lucio suffer a little. As we all do.

[downtonabbeyrevisited]

Series One - Episode Seven

One thing that seasoned Downton viewers will know is that either the plot moves so fast that you get whiplash moving from point to point and have to perform a fair amount of mental gymnastics to recall single lines that were (canonically speaking) made months and sometimes years ago, or it’s so slow that you think you’ve slipped into a coma and are having a strange dream about the coming of electricity. This instalment is a whopping 65 minutes long and  defiantly falls into the former category of episode. Don’t be fooled by the slow start of dusting chandeliers, every single plot point that King Julian has ever thought of is about to be covered in rapid succession whilst the July 1914 stamped ominously at the bottom of the screen indicates that the shit is about to get real. The main topic of conversation in Downton Village is apparently the murder of the Austrian Arch-duke. Who knew that rural Yorkshire with its still broadly illiterate population during this time period was so switched on to international relations? 

William’s mother has (predictably) died and Anna has made an armband which is utterly indistinguishable from his livery in her honour. Another soul unable to appreciate this is Mrs Patmore who is now so blind that it has been brought to the attention of those who dwell upstairs. Mrs Patmore is summoned to the library where she collapses into the nearest available chair after chewing off Robert’s ear and he arranges to send her up to London. I doubt this was quite the reaction he was expecting but there we go. In Beryl’s absence, Mrs Bird comes to hold the fort and test Daisy’s loyalties to provide a bit of light relief in what is, when you think about it, quite a grim episode. 

Despite being slow on the uptake, Daisy soon gets into the swing of launching the Downton scullery equivalent of chemical warfare whilst Mrs Bird makes disparaging comments about the kitchen and staff. But Daisy soon falls foul of a bit of bait and switch and only succeeds in almost giving Thomas’ colon a thorough clean out. 

Whilst Mrs Patmore sits in Moorfields reeling at the fact that cataracts can’t be removed by whatever the 1914 equivalent of homeopathy is, Anna is determined to get to the bottom of why Bates was in prison. Thomas and O’Brien’s written confirmation of Bates’ previous misdeeds have only served to light a fire under her and with a confidence to which I can only aspire, she marches into Greenwich. Or is it Chelsea? My knowledge of barracks isn’t what it used to be despite the fact that I am typing this a stones throw away from one now. My superiors are weeping somewhere. In true British Army fashion, a man with an impressive hat brings out a massive book which he never refers to for any information that he could not hold in his head. He then gives out Mrs Bates Senior’s address 104 years before GDPR kicks in. 

A meeting with Ma Bates confirms that it was Vera who stole the regimental silver rather than John but he took the fall, apparently feeling that he had ruined her life. However I can’t be the only person who is still a little unclear as to why he did go to prison for Vera as there doesn’t seem to be much evidence that he had ruined her life unless I’ve missed something, which is entirely possible. Anna returns to Downton and appeals to Robert to keep Bates on. Because he is a useful character for pivoting plot points around, Robert agrees, and our favourite self-sabotaging valet lives to survive another series. 

Considerably less eager to stay at Downton is Thomas who has a right old time of it this episode, roaring through all of his typical behaviours: smoking in archways, leaving tables with entire plates of food in-front of him to go and perch on a crate and plot with O’Brien, stealing from Carson in an inept manner, having at least two other characters discuss just how awful he is and finally take shots at William. Except this time, they aren’t snide remarks. These are actual shots involving pre-German sniper mangled fists. Having volunteered for the Army medical corps with Dr Clarkson, Thomas is riding high on his way out the door and makes inappropriate marks about a combination of dead mothers and babies. William takes him on and the two roll around a bit on a table then the floor. Carson calls for a halt but doesn’t actually intervene: its up to the Irish Radical to bring about peace. Some irony there one feels. 

But perhaps Carson’s inaction is connected to the emotional upheaval that of course comes with owning a telephone. I should know; mine has been on ‘Do Not Disturb’ for at least a year now. Presumably seeing the phone as an affront to his skills as a butler, there are a fair number amount of him looking perplexed at the new arrival. But with a bit of practice under his belt, he is ready to reluctantly shuffle into the twentieth century. Oh I do love him. 

The coming of the telephone is good news for Gwen through who manages to bag herself an interview out of its installation in the Abbey. However she neglects to say that she was a housemaid on her application form. The manager of the company scoffs at this upon learning she works at Downton “you thought that would put me off!”. Well yes, because less then twenty minutes ago you were bemoaning the fact that you couldn’t find any secretaries with experience which is what you needed. King Julian is now struggling to maintain continuity within an episode never mind between. Lord. 

After 18 years, and presumably a lot of hormonal shifting, Cora is pregnant. Robert sounds incredulous and frankly, we all are. Robert doesn’t understand what’s been done differently to bring about this major shift in plot, but Cora brings him to an abrupt halt before he can pick along any further down that particular line of enquiry and an entire nation, nay the world, exhales. However Foetus C’s appearance on the scene coincides with the departure of Simmons and through a convoluted chain of events, their fates are inextricably linked. O’Brein overhears that a new lady’s maid is required and immediately jumps head first into the wrong end of the stick. But to be fair to her, Violet and Cora seem to only talk about their quest when either Thomas or O’Brien are in earshot which is asking for trouble really. But that does not excuse O’Brien committing infanticide by proxy via the medium of Imperial Leather. With a bar of poor quality soap that breaks alarmingly easily and an off-screen yelp, it’s all over and another massive plot point that has a whole lifecycle within less than an episode. 

Although Foetus C didn’t hang around long, he made quite the impact and along with the influence of Aunt Rosamund manages to unsettle the romance that Matthew and Mary have been carefully cultivating since Episode One. St James Park provides a backdrop for Rosamund, following the tradition of all Aunts worldwide, to winkle out the truth about their nieces and nephew’s love lives. As they glide through London, and pass two men sat on a bench trying to divert the apocalypse, Rosamund plants the seeds of doubt that will eventually blossom into a full blown crisis in about thirty minutes time with the mere suggestion that Mary might have to live in a cottage. 

With the prospect of another male heir on the horizon, Matthew considers moving back to Manchester but not before he can have the first of two emotionally charged conversations under a tree. Matthew witters on about ‘prospects’ whilst Mary looks increasingly desperate. That tree and the accompanying bench have seen an awful lot of drama: people have sobbed under it, plotted beside it and stared artfully into the middle distance beneath its shadow and its only series one. 

But even when it’s clear that Matthew’s inheritance is not in danger, he returns to the tree with Mary to assert the fact that he is leaving Downton for reasons that I can’t entirely fathom but are mainly based around the fact that he doesn’t want to be socially engineered and that he can’t be sure of anything. Wearing the world’s most pointless gloves, Mary covers her face and weeps in what is fast becoming a signature move. The ‘tree’ scenes between her and Matthew have been a real chance for both actors to get their teeth into a bit of decent uninterrupted dialogue. I have loved Michelle Dockery since she stole my twelve year old heart as Susan in Hogfather and she has not failed me yet. 

Carson comes to comforts Mary under the ’tree of emotional conflict’ and in one shot we have captured the charm of Downton. Ahh. Now, back onto the nonsense. 

The garden party is suddenly upon us and with it, the tying up of as many loose ends as possible just incase the series isn’t renewed. Hold onto your hats folks! Mrs Patmore returns in a cracking pair of sunglasses, Clarkson gives Thomas his papers who then promptly resigns, William and Daisy reconcile, Mrs Hughes warns Branson off Sybil whilst Sir Anthony pegs it out of Downton before Edith is allowed any measure of happiness, O’Brein attends to Cora’s every need and then learns that she was never in the firing line anyway, Branson plucks up the courage to answer a telephone, Gwen gets the job and proceeds to hug Branson and Sybil hug in a manner that you would think would be enough to cause a scandal, we learn of Ma Bates’ approval of Anna but Bates is still a stubborn idiot , Mr Moseley wants to crack on with Anna and if you squint a bit Downton Abbey briefly looks like The Villa. Oh and WW1 breaks out.  

Romantic declaration of the moment 

“I’d say he’s keen. Very keen indeed” Well then TeLl HeR JohN! Anna and Bates must be up there for slow-burn romance of the millennia and for my money is a better love story than Mary and Matthew but that could just be my gritty scots and northern heritage rooting for the little guy. 

Expressive eyebrow of the week 

Robert won last episode but nevertheless his face during the menopause chat with the accompanying “please” wins this one. THIS is why Fleabag Season 2 Episode 3 had to happen. 

Wait, what? 

“Is there anything worse than losing one’s maid” Erm…maybe the oncoming death of 17 million people with 11.5% of the British Army told by the upper echelons of society to walk slowly towards the guns? 

“Oy” is Mrs Patmore Jewish? 

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to sit in your presence my lord” That is a surprising amount of respect from someone who only two episodes fed him a chicken that had both been on the floor and nibbled by a cat…. 

“Try not to miss me, it will be good practice” Bates is a lovely man but ultimately he is a masochistic twat. 

“First electricity, now telephones. Sometimes I feel as if I were living in a H.G. Wells novel” Julian really does reserve his best for Maggie. 

“I’m not much good at building my life on shifting sands”  Calm down, Matthew. 

“He had a right to know how his countryman died, in the arms of a slut” Calm down, Edith. 

[juliandevwhoreak]

Modern Arcana AU HCs Part 6: Portia Edition

In modern Vesuvia’s metropolitan area, life can be so, so busy. So exhausting. The Minister loves to paint a pretty picture of a booming metropolis filled with the cultured and elegant; a city for the bourgeoisie. But Nadia knows better. She’s seen the devastation in the flooded district, the children of the poor barefoot, standing blank-eyed and hungry in the dirty alleys, hidden little secrets Lucio is so keen to avoid during his tours of the city.

When she is tired and the space under her closed eyelids burns red-hot with the beginnings of another migraine, she remembers serving in the food kitchens, slick spit clinging wet to her cheek as the grizzled crone who gave it to her fixed her with one yellowing eye and said through cracked and blackened teeth, “You ain’t knowin’ wot it is t’ be in these straits, fancy lady, I’ll take none o’ yer clap-me-on-th’-back charity on this day!” How she’d gotten mental whiplash evolving from shock, to fury, to pity, to shame, staring at this shrunken, proud old thing, and she knew. She knew she hadn’t done enough. She hadn’t had her finger on the pulse of this city’s neglected, as she’d once thought, as her sycophantic assistants had assured her.

She never wore her Louboutins to an outreach project again. And she set her mind on finding the perfect right hand, someone who understood the people of the city, someone who could make her understand.

That’s when she met Portia Devorak, the freckled, copper-haired little spit-fire who helped her turn her projects around and build Vesuvia United into the force that it is today.

Portia has been an indispensable asset, something of a ray of sunshine after rolling storms; her patience, persistence, and tenacity a balm for Nadia’s soul.

Among her responsibilities is managing the social media for Vesuvia United and she takes this responsibility very seriously. Portia did not earn her position at Nadia’s side based on cuteness alone; she is highly competent and has a discerning eye for detail. Every picture, every hashtag, every tweet is carefully curated and there is never a need for Nadia to hire a social media manager. Ever.

Not only is she a dab hand at managing Vesuvia United’s social media presence, she is very much adept at managing her own. Portia, along with Lucio, is Twitter famous and has amassed a large and loyal following. This started because of her live tweets regarding awkward social situations and experiences with her brother.

Nadia’s affection for Portia knows few bounds. She’ll attempt to shower her with expensive gifts to show her endearment; jewelry in rose-gold tones to suit her complexion (pale with rosy undertones, Nadia has pointed out on many occasions), fine clothes, shoes, bags, etc. Portia is, of course, flattered and even aghast at what Nadia calls “these little trinkets,” and has never owned such nice things in her life. Did you know that the bags Gucci comes in are as much of an accessory as the Gucci product itself? Portia thinks so.

Portia drew the line at Nadia buying her an apartment. Oh, no, she couldn’t possibly do that! She loved staying with Mazelinka, besides, it wasn’t any trouble at all to make the commute! Nadia simply rested her cheek in her palm and gave her that look, you know, the sultry one where you can practically hear the gears turning in her brain. “Is that so? Then I shall have to pay you more.” Portia found herself in a two-story cottage in the garden district a month later.

Out of the main six, Portia is the most likely to use Pinterest. Mood boards for everything. Aesthetic mood boards, recipes, knitting patterns for Pepi’s sweaters, she LOVES Pinterest.

She is a few years younger than Julian, but one would assume the opposite. Her brother is a force of chaos and has an immutable craving for disaster, which has forced her into the role of being stable. You’ll often find him crashing on her couch because he can’t make it home from the pub, or passed out under her kitchen table after a particularly grueling shift at the hospital.

Yes, Mazelinka absolutely has the best hangover cure you can find in Vesuvia, but Portia’s is a close second. She had the best teacher after all, and has plenty of need for one with a brother like Julian.

As such, she has prepared a document titled, “The Proper Feeding and Care of Your Ilya” for... reasons.

All the pressures of responsibility aside, you will never meet another person (aside from Lucio and Julian, in their own way) who has such a thirst for adventure and shenanigans. When she does get the opportunity to “let her hair down,” she will absolutely drink you, and anybody else, under the table.

She’s adorable, she’s short, she’s so very soft and has delicate features but please do not make the mistake of letting that fool you. She will arm wrestle the toughest, gnarliest, most gargantuan marines in port-side watering holes and win. Nobody knows how she does it.

She goes to the gym quite regularly with Nadia. Nadia is content to stay on the cardio machines for an hour and have a long soak in the hot tub, but Portia is hardcore. She’ll do around 30 minutes of cardio on the elliptical, and then confidently weave through all the muscleheads in the weight room to start lifting for another 30 to 45 minutes. Somebody looks at her like she doesn’t belong, she will wink at them rakishly while doing bicep curls on the bench. Some meathead grumps at her for being on the leg press for too long, she just laughs and asks if they want to spot her. She is shameless and perfect.

We’ve reached the finale, unless you guys really want me to do one for Valerius. I do love me some wine daddy. ;)

Part 5: Julian Edition can be found here.

Part 4: Muriel Edition can be found here. 

Part 3: Nadia Edition can be found here.

Part 2: Lucio Edition can be found here. 

Part 1: Asra Edition can be found here.

[plague-doctor-jules]

“No peace in death” - Count Lucio’s musings over Julian’s dead body

Fandom: The Arcana Pairings: Lucio x Julian, Julian x Asra P.O.V: Lucio Warnings: heavy angst, mentions of self harming behavior and mental health issues, sexual themes, major character death Description: This fanfic was written after a prompt by @vesuviass about Julian not coming back to life after his execution... and a grief-striken, newly resurrected Lucio grieving over his dead body. Written in Lucio’s POV

Call me evil if you want. I will accept the characterization. Is evil something I am, or something I do, I wonder. For all I know, I am a mere human; and humans err. I have taken many bad decisions along the years, and hurt many people, there is no point in denying it to myself anymore. But I swear, I never wanted to hurt him the way I did. Yet... I don’t think I’ve hurt a man more than him.

And now... now he’s gone.

“You are an idiot, Jules. An utter, complete idiot. Not that I was not aware of that. But dying for a crime you did not commit? That is the summit of how far idiocy goes.” I whisper, holding the urge to slap him just in time. There’s no use. Not anymore. My words and my strikes can hurt him no more... no more than they already have and no more than he has himself.

If he could hear me, he’d probably let out one of his signature chuckles, before he agreed with me. Oh, of all people, he wouldn’t pass an opportunity to diminish and insult himself, as if he was getting off on it. I honestly didn’t know one’s self hatred could run so deep that it could become a personality trait before I met this man... and still, I had underestimated him. We all had. 

As he lays in his coffin, I cannot help but observe how beautiful he is, even in death. How beautiful he always was. Porcelain white skin, soft and supple to the touch... Eyes of the purest silver... Magma colored curls cascading down, framing his ascetic face, the sharp jawline and high cheekbones. Sumptuous inviting lips, whose curves could rewrite history. So close, and yet, so out of reach. Frozen into time... forever more. 

It was that beauty that drew me to him initially, before I even known his name... but his strange kindness was what enslaved me to him, in a way that most perceived as...scary. That, and his exquisite addiction to his own suffering. All the people I’ve known despised me -perhaps for a good reason. But not him. He never left my side, not even when I had given him plenty of reasons to. 

Why was he doing this? Was it just a part of his good nature, to always see the good in others that kept him around? His moral compass that dictated that he should never abandon a comrade and a patient of his, even when said comrade made his life a living hell? Or was it that he craved the way I treated him; in anger and lust alike, as a distraction from the hell that resided into his heart -or, better said, the need to be treated as the worthless scum he saw himself. Too bad... because regardless of my actions, I knew that he was the opposite.

“Use me...” he used to implore me. “Take me... hurt me...”But I could hear only one thing. Break me. So I did; again and again; and each time I did the deeper the sadness hidden in his stormy eyes each time he returned to me for more. Why did he return..? What drew him back to me, what fascinated him so about my ways of showing him pain and disgrace..? And what made me break him more and more before putting him back together, only to break him again and again when I wanted more than anything to hold him tight against me, caress his hair and tell him how much he meant to me? Was it selfishness? Arrogance? Jealousy? Yes, that was it. I was jealous. 

No, not jealous of him; his self-sacrificing ways were never something I desired for myself. ‘Twas that magician I was jealous of. That magician who never loved anyone except himself; and he certainly did not love him.  He did not deserve his pain, his affection, his love; when it should be mine and mine alone. So I carved my name onto his delicate freckled skin and heart, and he carved his name too; just to get even... just to show me that I was not worthy to have such a rare being as him for myself. Just to deny me his love. 

It was a game played between us, and the poor doctor was caught in between: the only pawn; used by both sides and wounded by both sides, as he was pushed back and forth in our attempt to hurt each other by hurting him. 

We had not calculated how much pain he could take before he broke. We were too oblivious to that, as we were too deeply emerged into our own competition over him. Too oblivious, until it was too late. 

I died. I came back.

He died. Permantly.

He died for my wrongdoings, mine and Asra’s. Though the executioner was the one who pulled the lever, we were the culprits for his death, I see that now. Asra for using his feelings towards him for his own gain. Me, for my erroneous dealings with supernatural entities, a plague that was sourced in me, my stubborness, possessiveness and delight in subduing and humiliating others before me. I loved him; and killed him, because I couldn’t show him how much I loved him otherwise.

The white lillies that surround his body do not suit him. They did not suit him in life, and they do not suit him now. Nor does the emptiness into his eyes, as he gazes into nothing -he was found too late, and they had already dried out; the mortician could not close them... So they remain open; like broken windows to a soul long gone... If it weren’t for them or the vibrant rope burn around his neck, one would perhaps think the doctor’s asleep; there’s a strange calmness settled onto his features; the likes of which I had never seen when he was alive. Though the melancholy on his features is even more prominent than it used to be; and for once, he cannot mask it with his wits or humor. Even in death, the doctor has not found the peace he was so desperately seeking.

“You idiot...” I whisper again, fingers tracing the beloved features of his face; his cheekbones, his jawline, as if trying to memorize them. “How dare you leave me, how dare you die without my permission...” I glance around to make sure nobody’s watching and I lean down to crash my lips onto his, that stil smell of coffee. They’re lifeless, bruised and cold, so cold and so unlike the way they used to be,punctuating the wrongness of this; the unfairness of his death. I kiss him again and again, furiously; as if he’s going to return to life this way. I was fully aware of the hot tears that were running down his cheeks and ruining my makeup, but I could not care less at the moment. “I’m sorry... I am so sorry...”

[trihearts-bull-corner]

Prompt Challenge

So this is my writing prompt challenge. It is a very long list, and some of the quotes are very long. Every line is from my favorite author, Sherrilyn McQueen (previously known as Sherrilyn Kenyon). Quotes that inspire fluff, romance, and/or angst

[[MORE]]

You have the optimism of a child. (Julian) Peter Pan all the way. (Grace)

Life isn't finding shelter in the storm. It's about learning to dance in the rain.

But as the Roman playwright Terence once wrote, From many a bad beginning great friendships have formed

I don't suffer from my insanity -- I enjoy every minute of it.

I marvel at the fact you’ve lived to your age and no one’s taken those rose-colored glasses and shoved them up your ass.

Just because you can doesn't mean you should.

Oh contraire, mon frère. I’m able to annoy anyone in ten syllables or less. Sometimes, I don’t even have to speak at all. I just walk into the room and it rankles them.

It's easy to look at people and make quick judgments about them, their present and their past, but you'd be amazed at the pain and tears a single smile hides. What a person shows to the world is only one tiny facet of the iceberg hidden from sight. And more often then not, it's lined with cracks and scars that go all the way to the foundation of their soul.

You’re not done with me entirely, human. I’m the mother of his daughter. (CharacterA) You’re right. You are ____'s mother, poor her. But you’re wrong about one thing. (characterB) And that is? (CharacterA) I’m no longer human. I’m the Atlantie Kedemonia Theony – the guardian of the Atlantean gods. And right now there’s only one of them walking about and to save him from one more bad memory created by you, I’d bathe in your entrails, bitch. As for ___, she’s a big girl – I know, I used to live with her. She’ll survive the death of her mother. Trust me, I have firsthand experience with the subject. (characterB)

"How can anyone be afraid of love?" (CharacterA) "When you love someone... truly love them, friend or lover, you lay your heart open to them. You give them a part of yourself that you give to no one else, and you let them inside a part of you that only they can hurt—you literally hand them the razor with a map of where to cut deepest and most painfully on your heart and soul. And when they do strike, it's crippling—like having your heart carved out. It leaves you naked and exposed, wondering what you did to make them want to hurt you so badly when all you did was love them. What is so wrong with you that no one can keep faith with you? That no one can love you? To have it happen once is bad enough... but to have it repeated? Who in their right mind would not be terrified of that?" (characterB)

Aren't you an enigma wrapped in a thick coating of contradictions.

Sometimes things have to go wrong in order to go right.

Do you want my input or is this just an angry tirade you need to vent? (CharacterA) Both! (characterB) Okay, you rant and I’ll add my comments at the end. (CharacterA)

We have three kinds of family. Those we are born to, those who are born to us, and those we let into our hearts

I assure you, princess, if you saw the real me, you’d run for cover. (CharacterA) Only if I knew you’d be waiting under that cover for me. (characterB)

"Oh God, I just kissed a vampire!" "Oh Gods, I just kissed a human!"

I have a computer, a vibrator, and pizza delivery. Why should I leave the house?

Bitch please...you haven't seen mean yet.

"____! I won’t leave you here to die." (CharacterA) It’s okay, princess. I don’t mind dying for you. (characterB)

Life is a tapestry woven by the decisions we make.

If brute force doesn't work, you aren't using enough

You know the incredible thing about hearts is their unbelievable capacity for forgiveness. You’d be amazed what people will overlook when they love someone

my balls if you crawl inside a bottle and pickle yourself solid. I’ve got other things to think about now. But let me remind you of something a good friend once said to me when I was being eaten alive by feelings I didn’t understand. ‘Even when my marriage was bad, it was good.’ I had no real idea what you meant that night, but now I do and I’m grateful to the gods I can finally believe in that I took a chance on something that almost killed me. The life I have now…no, the woman I have now is worth every rotten moment of my worthless existence that led me to her door, and I would relive it all to have one kiss from her lips. You’re the one who told me that the right woman was a shelter from the storm

I wasn't born, I was unleashed.

She couldn’t very well let him join her in bed like that. Sure you could. No I can’t. Please? Hush, self, let me think.

We almost made it to thirty seconds without an insult. I think we set a new record

Get off me, you lard-ass, halitosis, flea-infested horror-movie reject! 

I thought only a wooden stake through the heart killed a vampire. (CharacterA) A wooden stake through the heart will kill just about anything. And if it doesn't, run like hell (characterB)

You’re the only thing I’ve ever done right in my entire life and if anything ever happened to you, they’d have to dig two graves ‘cause I couldn’t live a single day without my baby beside me. (parent to child)

You know, I would date, if I could find a man worth shaving my legs for. 

C'mon, Tabitha. You stabbed me the night we met without even blinking. (CharacterA) Yeah, but you were a dirtbag then. (characterB) I think I'm offended. (CharacterA)

I learned a long time ago not to judge people by what they look like, sound like, or by the clothes they wear. Just because a house is nice and shiny out front doesn’t mean it’s not rotting on the inside.

you're right ___. I am a selfish bastard. I had to be, because no one else gave a single shit about me except me

I have found my star. She is beauty and grace. Elegance and goodness. My laughter in winter. She is courageous and strong. Bold and tempting. Unlike any other in all the universe, and I cannot touch her. I dare not even try

I’m here because I know the sadness inside you. I know what it feels like to wake in the morning, lost and lonely and aching for someone to be there with me

What are you doing? (CharacterA) I'm getting into my car. (characterB) You own this?! (CharacterA) No. I'm stealing it with the key in my hand. (characterB)

So, does this make you visibly challenged? (CharacterA) No, but if you don’t lay off me, I’m going to make you breathing impaired. (characterB)

I'm the top of the food chain and well...you're the food

___ says that tragedy and adversity are the stones we sharpen our swords against ao that we can fight new battles.

Sure. My ego's had enough time to recover a modicum of dignity. Let's make sure we crush it again before I mistake myself for a god

Human will is the strongest will ever created. There are those who are born to succeed and those who are determined to succeed. The former fall into it, and the latter pursue it at all costs. They won’t be denied. Nothing daunts them.

You know when people say fine, it generally means ‘leave me the hell alone because I don’t want to talk about what’s really bothering me

Baby, I ain't trash. Trash is something you throw away. My people keep me.

We're not the damned, folks, we're the categorically fucked. 

So is there any part of you that’s not a lethal weapon? (CharacterA) No. Even my wits are sharpened. (characterB)

The worst wounds, the deadliest of them, aren't the ones people see on the outside. They're the ones that make us bleed internally

The past is dead. Tomorrow will become whatever decision you make it.

Strength through adversity. The strongest steel is forged by the fires of hell. It is pounded and struck repeatedly before it’s plunged back into the molten fire. The fire gives it power and flexibility, and the blows give it strength. Those two things make the metal pliable and able to withstand every battle it’s called upon to fight.

Love is deceitful and sublime. In its truest form, it brings out the best in all beings. At its worse, It's a tool used to manipulate and ruin any one who is stupid enough to hold it. Don't be stupid

Forgiveness is the best part of valor...Discretion is easy. It's finding the courage to forgive yourself and others that is hard

Even if I were lying on the sun itself, I would be freezing there without you

I learned the bad guys are not always bad, the good guys are not always good, and to quote Captain Barbossa, the parameters are like rules, mostly guidelines. And that it takes a little bit of bad boy to fight the evil in the world.

Laugh it up, asshole. But she who laughs last laughs longest, and I intend to belly roll tonight

I think infatuation is like a garden. If tended and cared for, it grows into love. If neglected or abused it dies. The only way to have eternal love is to never let your heart forget what it's like to live without it.

What? It's not my fault I stab all the fanged people. They shouldn't look like vampires. (CharacterA) I didn't look like a vampire, but you stabbed me. (characterB) Yeah, well, you looked like a lawyer so I had to kill you. It was a moral imperative. (CharacterA)

Where are you anyway? (CharacterA) I don't know. I hear some godawful kind of music from outside, horns blaring, and I'm in a house with a Mohawk cuckoo bird, a transvestite, and a knife-wielding lunatic. (characterB) Why are you at ____'s? (CharacterA)

You’re selfish and you’re cold, and I’m tired of getting frostbite when I touch you

He who lets fear rule him, has fear for a master

Be kind to dragons, for thou art crunchy when toasted and taste good with ketchup

If you have any care for ____ at all, don't leave him in darkness. It's not fair to show someone the sun and then to banish him from it. Even the devil may cry when he looks around hell and realizes that he's there alone

Have you ever wanted something that you knew was bad for you? Something that you ached for so much you could think of nothing else?

Gee, thanks Dad. I promise to be a good boy and play nice with the other kids.(CharacterA) Smart ass. (characterB) Better than a dumb ass.(CharacterA)

I'm too young, too smart and too good-looking to die.

You're so afraid of being hurt that you attack first. Only those who really care about you will weather the assault of your verbal attacks and stay. The rest will fall away.

Laugh as much as you breathe and love as long as you live

The most beautiful heart of all is the one that can still love even while it bleeds, and especially after its been broken into thousands of pieces.

Just how many sisters do you have? (CharacterA) Eight. (characterB) Eight? (CharacterA) What? (characterB) I'm just pitying whatever poor males lived in that house with all of you. It must have been truly frightening at least one week out of every month. (CharacterA) Was that a joke? (characterB) Merely a frightening statement of fact. (CharacterA)

There, there, baby. We'll hide her body in the trunk later.

Sorrow spares no one, and scars respect no person.

Yeah, it never fails to amaze me how a single lie can undo an entire lifetime of good

Is he a good boy? (CharacterA) No, Mom, he’s Satan incarnate. In fact, once it’s over, we’re going to get liquored up and tattooed, then find some cheap hos and have a good time with his trust fund. (characterB)

Oh no, no, no! Are you going to suck my blood? (CharacterA) Do I look like a lawyer to you? (characterB)

Hey, yummy leather guy? Can you hear me? 

Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss other people. Life's too short to worry about what other people do or don't do. Tend your own backyard, not theirs, because yours is the one you have to live in

It would have really cramped my future plans had I died. 

No power from above can make one human love another. Love comes from within the heart.

There are always three sides to every memory…yours, theirs, and the truth, which lies somewhere in between the two

You don’t knock on the devil’s door, boy, unless you want him to answer.

Take care of him, ____. And remember it takes great courage and heart for a man who knows no kindness to show it to another. Even the wildest of beasts can be tamed by a patient and gentle hand.

To infinity then. (CharacterA)  What’s that mean? (characterB) It’s something my dad used to say when I was a kid. To infinity, meaning you’d see something through to the end. (CharacterA) Infinity is never-ending. (CharacterB) That’s right, which means you keep going and going no matter what happens or what obstacles you meet. Over, under, around or through. There’s always a way. And if you have to chase something to infinity, strap on your big-boy pants, hiking boots, and go. (CharacterA)

Whoa, what is this? Battle of the Sarcastic and Pissed? Should I make popcorn? Forget American Idol, man. This is much more entertaining

Life is serious. (CharacterA)  No, life is an adventure. It's thrilling and scary. Sometimes it's even a bit boring, but it should never be serious. (characterB)

You can take my life, but you'll never break me. So bring me your worst… And I will definitely give you mine.

Just remember, anger is always your enemy. You must keep your emotions in check. The moment you lose control of them, you lose the fight every time.

It’s a responsibility that I take most seriously, so excuse me for banning you from killing them because you have reverse PMS. (CharacterA) Reverse PMS? (characterB) Yeah, unlike a normal woman, you’re cranky twenty-eight days out of the month. (CharacterA)

You are the only warmth in my heart. The only sunshine my winter has ever known

I wonder why no one called the police about the rocket launcher? God knows my neighbors usually report it if I so much as fart in my backyard.

I am a socially awkward mandork. 

What else can I do to piss you off? (CharacterA) You can leave me. (characterB) I would never do that, ____. No one can live without their heart and that’s what you are to me. (CharacterA)

What planet are you from? Obviously Planet Insanity was missing a local, long-term resident.'

Actions that sometimes seem mean aren’t. Rather they are done by the ones we love in order to protect us without our knowing it.

Knock, knock. (CharacterA) Now, ain't this a bitch. Here I am, trying to kiss my girl, and you have to interrupt us. What, were you raised in a barn? By the way, touch the woman, or the Lamborghini, and you're a dead man. (characterB)

The wealth of a soul is measured by how much it can feel... its poverty by how little

You’re human. No one cares if you sleep with a whore. (CharacterA) (characterB did something she’d never in her life done before. She slapped another person.) You ever insult ____ again and so help me, I’ll do to you what you allowed your brother to do to him. I’ll cut your tongue out for it. ____ is the man I love and no one, ever, takes issue with him without having issues with me. (characterB)

Your destiny is shaped by choice, never by chance. Beware the decisions you make, no matter how small, for they will be your salvation...or your death.

Wake up, ____. Your psychotic criminal is playing with knives.

I accept you as you are, and I will always hold you close in my heart. I will walk beside you forever

Words are easy to say, but emotions betray the best intentions.

Because I have no boobs. My ears stand out, and I have freckles all over me. (CharacterA) Boobs? (characterB) Breasts. (CharacterA) You have very nice breasts. (CharacterB) Thanks. What about you? (CharacterA) I have no breasts. (characterB)

I love you, I love you, I love you! And if you ever die on me again, I'll kill you so dead!

I'm old enough to make you look like an embryo. 

How did you get me here? (CharacterA)I have my evil Jedi ways. The Force is strong with this one. (characterB)

Have you ever noticed that salvation, much like your car keys, is usually found where and when you least expect it?

The man may not be dead, but he was certainly stiff. And this had nothing to do with rigor mortis

He was like some wild, untamed creature that you could keep and feed for a time, but in the end you knew you'd have to let it go for its own sake as well as yours

I will fear no evil for I am the baddest bitch in the land

Ironically no one ever wants to hear what I have to say about anything. They usually argue with me to the point I want to put them through a wall. Hopefully you won’t be so dense

So you're the infamous ____. (CharacterA) Lord and Master of the great barbarian horde that roams the night. (characterB)

No one should have to pay for love in flesh or blood. 

Should I ask about the handcuffs? (CharacterA) Not unless you want to live...otherwise if anyone asks, tell them I died of a heart attack during a wild sexcapade with her. (characterB)

A flower can't grow without rain. (CharacterA) Too much rain and it drowns. (characterB) And yet the most beautiful of the lotus flowers are the ones that grow in the deepest mud. (CharacterA)

I’ve spent my entire life listening to people tell me why I can’t be loved and how I’m nothing but a worthless piece of shit. I always told myself that I didn’t care, that I didn’t need anyone else. It was a lie, you know. I do care and I want ____. If it costs me my life to be with her, it doesn’t matter. I’ve already lived past my prime, anyway. I get up every morning with more pain in my joints than the day before. If I have to die, I’d rather die knowing someone cared about me, just once. Is that really too much to ask? (CharacterA) For us? Yes. It is. We are the gutter and the gutter is all we’ll ever be. Don’t reach out for the stars. They’ll burn you until there’s nothing left. (characterB) Then let me burn. (CharacterA)

Should I warm the oven and bake you a batch of hero cookies? 

I don’t even know what to say to you. (CharacterA) Me, either. I guess we’ll just stand here and cry at each other, huh? (characterB)

Everyone cries sometimes, ____. There are some pains that run too deep for even the strongest to take without breaking. I don’t think any less of you for it.

Please nothing, she’s a vicious piranha. She looks all cute and cuddly, then she opens that mouth and lets loose so much venom she could double as a nest of scorpions

Don't worry, ___. I'm an acquired taste. Most of my best friends had to know me for years before they could even stand my presence. I'm like mold, I usually grow on you very slowly

You know, I've walked this earth for over eleven thousand years, my lady. I have seen things in my life that are unimaginable to you, and you ask me if I doubt you? Lady, I doubt the very air you breathe

(CharacterA) "You are naked."......"You are so naked" (characterB) - "I know" (CharacterA) "You are naked!" (characterB)  "We've established that." (CharacterA) "You're happy and naked." (characterB)"What?

Please don’t let it be another cop. I’m outta bail money. Wait a minute…I could sell you on eBay and make a killing. (CharacterA) Not in my current condition. You’d have to sell ___ or ____. I’m sure there’s someone willing to buy two perfectly good white boys. (characterB)

Hey!" (CharacterA) snapped as he realized (CharacterB) was about to lock him on the outside with their attackers. He pushed the door open and glared at him. "No man left behind." (characterB) scoffed. "This aint' the army, boy. It's every man for himself. Fall behind. Get eaten!"

I marvel at the fact you’ve lived to your age and no one’s taken those rose-colored glasses and shoved them up your ass.

Because I don’t feel broken when you look at me. (CharacterA) How could you feel broken? (characterB) I was shattered as a child and thrown away, like a piece of trash no on wanted. But you don’t treat me like that. You see in me the human bit and you touch that part of me. You make me feel whole and wanted. (CharacterA)

Fate is a bitch with a wicked since of humor and today I'm her punchline

If you're going to hell buddy, I'm driving the bus

I'd rather be judged by twelve than carried by six

If I am to be judged it will be for who I am. Not for who I'm trying to become

I will count the heartbeats until I see you again

It's official take a psycho to work day. Why else would I be here?

The bitterest pain of all is when you can only hold someone in your heart who you used to hold in your arms

Pain baptizes us all without prejudice or mercy

Whatever doesn't kill me better run like hell

True love will always find it's way through paths where even feral lorinas fear to prey

So goes my incentive to fight fairly. You want fair, play with kids. You wanna come at me, make out a will.

People who don't know me, think I'm quiet. People who do, wish I was.

Shall I show you to the door... Or would you rather go out through the wall?

Before you rattle my cage, you'd best make sure I'm padlocked in it

There are two ways out of this room. The window behind you and the door behind me..... You might survive the window.

Everyday do one thing that scares you. Or one thing that scares other people

The truth spills as quickly from furious lips as a lie. The trick is to learn which is meant to wound and which is meant to enlighten.

We all have out burdens... Just some of us have the ones that strike to kill us vindictively

If you want to see exactly how angry someone can get, tell them to calm down when they're already pissed off!

Don't be afraid to love. Yes its a weakness, but it's a source of greatest strength you'll ever know.

Because you are taking the most important parts of me with you, ___..... My heart and my soul. You are not just my wife. You are what sustains me.

Talk is cheap. Pain is free and I'm peddling the shit out of it. So you come and get some.

Why be difficult when with a little bit of effort you can be impossible

The lies we tell ourselves to survive seldom bring peace to our hearts

Destruction is good for my soul, but it sucks to be you

Family isn't perfect, just perfectly ours