#I am writing this from the comforts of my secret ghost room in the castle

[ask-richard-jackdaw]

I hear you around the castle from time to time, and wonder what it may be like to enjoy your company, join you in solving fun puzzles, what it may be like to kis- I mean talk to you

~Ominis Gaunt

My dear Ominis Gaunt,

It is rather flattering to know that you can recognize me just from the sound of my voice despite us never really talking in person. I am grateful that you wrote to me. I have only heard snippets of conversations regarding you but considering your family's history I never had a good reason to officially introduce myself.

If you don't mind me asking, I was always curious as to whether your wand is capable of detecting ghosts at all. I know that you could easily tell when one is near just from the sudden drop in temperature but since we cannot exactly collide does the spell consider me a threat worth notifying you?

Oh, am I hearing that you are as fond of puzzles as I am? I would love to have some company when I go adventuring! It does help when you have somebody with you who can actually touch things, move the puzzle pieces, turn book pages... You know what I mean.

As for, hmm, talking to me, I am sure we can figure something out~ What do you say? Want to go adventuring after lunch?

Awaiting your owl with all my heart,

Richard Jackdaw

[nealiios]

The Supernatural 70s: Part I - Corruption of An Innocent

"We're mutants. There's something wrong with us, something very, very wrong with us. Something seriously wrong with us - we're soldiers writers."

-- with apologies to the screenwriter of "Stripes"

Dear reader, I have the darkest of revelations to make to you, a truth when fully and wholly disclosed shall most assuredly chill you to the bone, a tale that shall make you question all that you hold to be true and good and holy about my personal history. While you may have come in search of that narrative designer best known for his works of interactive high fantasy, you should know that he is also a crafter of a darker art, a scribbler of twisted tales filled with ghosts, and ghouls, and gargoyles. I am, dear innocent, a devotee of horrors! Mwahahahaha!

[cue thunderclap, lightning, pipe organ music]

Given the genre of writing for which most of you know me, I forgive you if you think of me principally as a fantasy writer. I don't object to that classification because I do enjoy mucking about with magic and dark woods and mysterious ancient civilizations. But if you are to truly know who I am as a writer, you must realize that the image I hold of myself is principally as a creator of weird tales.

To understand how and why I came to be drawn to this sub-genre of fantastic fiction, you first must understand that I come from peculiar folks. Maybe I don't have the Ipswich look, or I didn't grow up in a castle, but my pedigree for oddity has been there from the start. My mother was declared dead at birth by her doctor, and often heard voices calling to her in the dead of night that no one else could hear. Her mother would periodically ring us up to discuss events in our lives about which she couldn't possibly have known. My father's people still share ghost stories about a family homestead that burned down mysteriously in the 1960s. Even my older brother has outré memories about events he says cannot possibly be true, and as a kid was kicked off the Tulsa city bookmobile for attempting to check out books about UFOs, bigfoot, and ESP. It's fair to say I was doomed - or destined - for weirdness from the start.

If the above listed circumstances had not been enough, I grew up in an area where neighbors whispered stories about a horrifically deformed Bulldog Man who stalked kids who "parked" on the Old North Road near my house. The state in which I was raised was rife with legends of bigfoots, deer women, and devil men. Even in my childhood household there existed a pantheon of mythological entities invented explicitly to keep me in line. If I was a good boy, The Repairman would leave me little gifts of Hot Wheels cars or candy. If I was being terrible, however, my father would dress in a skeleton costume, rise from the basement and threaten to drag me down into everlasting hellfire (evidently there was a secret portal in our basement.) There were monsters, monsters EVERYWHERE I looked in my childhood world. Given that I was told as a fledgling writer to write what I knew, how could anyone have been surprised that the first stories I wrote were filled with the supernatural?

"The Nightmare" by John Henry Fuseli (1781)

My formative years during the late sixties and early seventies took place at a strange juncture in our American cultural history. At the same time that we were loudly proclaiming the supremacy of scientific thought because we'd landed men on the moon, we were also in the midst of a counter cultural explosion of interest in astrology, witchcraft, ghosts, extra sensory perception, and flying saucers. Occult-related books were flying off the shelves as sales surged by more than 100% between 1966 and 1969. Cultural historians would come to refer to this is as the "occult boom," and its aftershocks would impact popular cultural for decades to come.

My first contact with tales of the supernatural were innocuous, largely sanitized for consumption by children. I vividly remember watching Casper the Friendly Ghost and the Disney version of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow. I read to shreds numerous copies of both Where the Wild Things Are and Gus the Ghost. Likely the most important exposure for me was to the original Scooby Doo, Where Are You? cartoon which attempted to inoculate us from our fears of ghosts and aliens by convincing us that ultimately the monster was always just a bad man in a mask. (It's fascinating to me that modern incarnations of Scooby Doo seem to have completely lost this point and instead make all the monsters real.)

ABOVE: Although the original cartoon Scooby Doo, Where Are You? ran only for one season from 1969 to 1970, it remained in heavy reruns and syndication for decades. It is notable for having been a program that perfectly embodied the conflict between reason and superstition in popular culture, and was originally intended to provide children with critical thinking skills so they would reject the idea of monsters, ghosts, and the like. Ironically, modern takes on Scooby Doo have almost entirely subverted this idea and usually present the culprits of their mysteries as real monsters.

During that same time, television also introduced me to my first onscreen crush in the form of the beautiful and charming Samantha Stevens, a witch who struggles to not to use her powers while married to a frequently intolerant mortal advertising executive in Bewitched. The Munsters and The Addams Family gave me my first taste for "goth" living even before it would become all the rage in the dance clubs of the 1980s. Late night movies on TV would bring all the important horror classics of the past in my living room as Dracula, Frankenstein, the Wolf Man, the Invisible Man, the Phantom of the Opera, The Creature from the Black Lagoon, and Godzilla all became childhood friends. Over time the darkened castles, creaking doors, foggy graveyards, howling wolves, and ever present witches and vampires became so engrained in my psyche that today they remain the "comfort viewing" to which I retreat when I'm sick or in need of other distractions from modern life.

ABOVE: Elizabeth Montgomery starred in Bewitched (1964 - 1972) as Samantha Stephens, a witch who married "mortal" advertising executive Darren Stephens (played for the first five seasons by actor Dick York). Inspired by movies like I Married a Witch (1942) and Bell, Book and Candle (1958), it was a long running series that explored the complex relationship dynamics between those who possess magic and those who don't. Social commentators have referred to it as an allegory both for mixed marriages and also about the challenges faced by minorities, homosexuals, cultural deviants, or generally creative folks in a non heterogeneous community. It was also one of the first American television programs to portray witches not as worshippers of Satan, but simply as a group of people ostracized for their culture and their supernatural skills.

Even before I began elementary school, there was one piece of must-see gothic horror programming that I went out of my way to catch every day. Dark Shadows aired at 3:30 p.m. on our local ABC affiliate in Tulsa, Oklahoma which usually allowed me to catch most of it if I ran home from school (or even more if my mom or brother picked me up.) In theory it was a soap opera, but the show featured a regular parade of supernatural characters and themes. The lead was a 175 year old vampire named Barnabas Collins (played by Johnathan Frid), and the show revolved around his timeless pursuit of his lost love, Josette. It was also a program that regularly dealt with reincarnation, precognition, werewolves, time travel, witchcraft, and other occult themes. Though it regularly provoked criticism from religious groups about its content, it ran from June of 1966 until it's final cancellation in April of 1971. (I would discover it in the early 1970s as it ran in syndication.) Dark Shadows would spin off two feature-length movies based on the original, a series of tie-in novels, an excellent reboot series in 1991 (starring Ben Cross as Barnabas), and a positively embarrassingly awful movie directed by Tim Burton in 1991.

ABOVE: Johnathan Frid starred as Barnabas Collins, one of the leading characters of the original Dark Shadows television series. The influence of the series cannot be understated. In many ways Dark Shadows paved the way for the inclusion of supernatural elements in other soap operas of the 1970s and the 1980s, and was largely responsible for the explosion of romance novels featuring supernatural themes over the same time period.

While Dark Shadows was a favorite early television program for me, another show would prove not only to be a borderline obsession, but also a major influence on my career as a storyteller. Night Gallery (1969-1973) was a weekly anthology television show from Rod Serling, better known as the creator and host of the original Twilight Zone. Like Twilight Zone before it, Night Gallery was a deep and complex commentary on the human condition, but unlike its predecessor the outcomes for the characters almost always skewed towards the horrific and the truly outré. In "The Painted Mirror," an antiques dealer uses a magic painting to trap an enemy in the prehistoric past. Jack Cassidy plots to use astral projection to kill his romantic rival in "The Last Laurel" but accidentally ends up killing himself. In "Eyes" a young Stephen Spielberg directs Joan Crawford in a story about an entitled rich woman who plots to take the sight of a poor man. Week after week it delivered some of the best-written horror television of the early 1970s.

In retrospect I find it surprising that I was allowed to watch Night Gallery at all. I was very young while it was airing, and some of the content was dark and often quite shocking for its time. Nevertheless, I was so attached to the show that I'd throw a literal temper tantrum if I missed a single, solitary episode. If our family needed to go somewhere on an evening that Night Gallery was scheduled, either my parents would either have to wait until after it had aired before we left, or they'd make arrangements in advance with whomever we were visiting to make sure it was okay that I could watch Night Gallery there. I was, in a word, a fanatic.

ABOVE: Every segment of Night Gallery was introduced by series creator Rod Serling standing before a painting created explicitly for the series. Director Guillermo del Toro credits Serling's series as being the most important and influential show on his own work, even more so than the more famous Twilight Zone.

[sincerelyravens]

WIP Wednesday

based on this image

However, despite the sadness Jana felt whenever she thought of Beauxbatons and her wishes that she had never left her friends, there was something equally as thrilling and magical about being at Hogwarts. Whenever she had first seen the castle, leaning out over the side of a carriage drawn by threstrals, Jana had been amazed at the beauty that it held and how a feeling of warmth seemed to rush through her all at once—like she was home.

The castle itself had a large number of floors and secret passageways and moving staircases that Jana thought it was a travesty that no one had bothered to craft a map. The hallways were not just occupied by students and teachers; there were also ghosts, who liked to walk through the walls unannounced and figures in portraits that sometimes liked to abandon their frame. There was even a large dining room with four large tables for each of the Houses (Slytherins, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and Gryffindors—like Jana), a thousand or more floating candles, and an enchanted ceiling that showed the sky.

Outside the walls of the castle, there was the dark and looming Forbidden Forest where it was, as the title suggests, forbidden to go into without the presence of a professor. In the middle of the castle grounds, there was a massive lake where a colony of merpeople resided beneath the water’s surface as well as a giant squid who frequently surfaced to see the students. There was also a large willow tree that had a habit of swinging its limb at annoying birds or ruffling its leaves in annoyance. Closer to the castle, there was a cluster of greenhouses—filled with plants of all natures and levels of deadliness—and a decent-sized Quidditch pitch with stands towering high above the ground.

Over the summer, Jana had been brought to the school by the Headmistress and sorted into her house before the Head of the Gryffindor House, Neville Longbottom, gave her a quick tour. While Professor Longbottom had made extra sure to hit important places around the castle, such as the Gryffindor Common Room and dorms and the outside Greenhouses, little could’ve been done to help her overcome the massive learning curve. She, like the first years, was still struggling to learn the castle and its intricate hallways—and the trickster doors.

(discussion below the cut)

This week, I’ve decided to start a new “tradition” on my blog on Wednesdays by posting a section of my WIP. Recently, my writing has been rather slow and spontaneous (judging by me creating the idea and then posting ‘punch and tell’ in the same day) and it’s been incredibly frustrating to me. However, I’m hoping to get back to writing more frequently. 

In addition, I’ve been working on what I want to highlight as my “WIP”: my Hogwarts AU. I know I’ve been saying it for months, but it finally seems to be coming to fruition. Finally. The plans are all set—the background characters, the changes, the plots. However, still, I find myself stuck and second-guessing myself and doing this story because well, it’s not a sobbe story (and, let’s be real here, that’s what everyone wants to see). 

While this fic is a step back towards HP—my OG fandom and where I got my writing start as well as my favorite childhood world to disappear to—it’s also my first fic where I won’t be writing Sobbe and Robbe or Sander as the main POV character. So, while it takes a step into my comfort zone (into HP, where i know an embarrassing amount of minuscule trivia and random headcanons), it’s also a step outside of that because I’m starting a new pov with a character that I haven’t really written a lot of before: Jana.

Her book of Hogwarts AU—originally: the magic of betrayal; now: the curse of betrayal (or as I refer to it tcob)—depicts the story of season 1... with some minor changes. Of course, there’s the obvious such as magical classes and spells and flying broomsticks and ghost. But there are some also minor plot changes that I feel would be beneficial to focusing on Jana’s story—as well as taking out some that I just don’t really like as much—and inclusion of a plot that will hopefully focus more on Jana’s difficulty with school in the first half of season 1 (later in the season, she’s shown to be studying physics with Yasmina, but I always wished that they’d focus a little more on school). 

(I’ve also included magical technology since texts/social media are such a prominent part of every-day life and there’s no way Muggleborn students can disappear off the face of the earth completely for 9 months of the year without people getting suspicious. I’m sorry.)

In addition, it also includes characters introduced later in the series—from the beginning. Milan has become the assistant to Madam Pomfrey, who is getting close to retiring, and Noor Bauwens and Aaron Jacobs are already included with their canonical friends from season 3. Sander Driesen—everyone’s personal fav—has also been included since the beginning, with one of my favorite non-canonical friendships to tie him into the season 1 storyline. I’ve also included some of my favorite OCs to enrich the background (and mostly because I’m too attached to them)—such as Valentin and Sophie from Safe, Jonathon from Jij Verliest, and Celeste (who now has the last name, Maes) from just friends. 

As I mentioned, I’m rather nervous about this fic and I’m going to come right out and say it: it isn’t a sobbe fic. In the first book, Jana’s, I do not have it planned for them to even have an interaction—though currently both of them will have separate interactions with Jana. I know that hits/comments/kudos do not matter, but I’m also internally terrified that no one is going to read it or care for it. I’m writing for me, this is true, but I also love hearing that people are enjoying what I’m writing and regardless of any internal motivation that I feel, comments and kudos and asks fuel my motivation a lot more than people realize. 

So, I apologize that this fic has been taking a long time—especially since I’ve been slowly working on the idea for about a year now—and I hope that I’m able to get it out to you soon. I hope you are looking forward to this story as much as I am.

[merci-bitch]

Careless Thing

Jareth x Fem!Reader

Warning (s): swearing, angst, fluff

Genre: drama

Words: 2,2k

A/N: This was very fun to write! I had so much fun experimenting with David’s character, I wanna thank @like-the-wings-of-butterflies for helping me with some stuff and for allowing me to take inspiration from her fic around Jareth. You should go read it, it’s really good and she captured David’s character so well!

I listened to Ed Sheeran’s song ‘One’ while writing some parts of this story. It actually helped with the whole, idk. It helped me write more comfortable I guess. And then there is a hint of Ariana Grande’s song 7 Rings in there as well. That wasn’t planed. I swear, it just happened. I also listened to the soundtrack of The Greatest Showman. If you haven’t seen the movie, you definitely should. It’s the best movie I’ve ever seen. 

Sorry for the authors note to be so long but I had planned for this to come out a few days ago, I had about 5 thousand words and it all disappeared. Like seriously, it just happened also writing while listening to music can be a big help. For me, it helps me write. The writing keeps floating on and you’re in a better mood, depending on what song and how you’re writing your story. 

“Jareth!!”

I felt my blood boil, as if it was running over or as if air was coming out of my ears. I walked through out the hallway leading towards the thrown room, where I heard the room once full of sounds and laughs quiet down. Whisperes was heard when I opened the door, walking inside slowly. Looking around, before making eye contact with a special person. “Everyone out, now!” I broke eye contact as I pointed at the door behind me. One after one , the goblins left the room, closing the door behind them. Jareths usual grin was replaced with an surprised expression. He got off of his thrown and walked over towards me, taking ahold of my shoulders. Squeezing them lightly. “What ever is the matter darling?”

I showed his hands off me before walking further towards me, making him take a few steps back. I knew I couldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut anymore. “How could you? After everything I did to you, how dare you!” I pointed at his chest, slightly hitting him harder each time. “What is it I have done now precious” His lustful grin back on his lips. He thought this was some kind of joke, didn’t he? My vision starting to blur as tears were starting to fill my eyes. His mismatched eyes changed.

“I-I didn’t marry you; I didn’t come here for you to treat the friends I have like bare dirt!” His face filled with confusion. I stepped away from him as I felt tears run down my cheeks. “Just because they have what you call a ‘lower’ standard doesn’t mean you can treat them like this Jareth!” I turned around as saw his eyes fill with worry. I rarely cried, and when I did. It was mostly in secret. I hated when people saw me cry, I feel so weak and vulnerable if anyone sees me when I’m crying.

“Y/N, darling. Come” He mentioned for me to sit on his lap. I didn’t move from my spot at all. “You know what Jareth? You’re a selfish, reckless, careless bastard!” With that, I left out the door. Pushing it open as a sob finally escaped my throat, hearing him yell my name behind me. Running towards the front door of the castle to get out, I kept feeling as if his eyes were on me. Of course, his eyes are always on me. I decided to walk around the labyrinth, something I often did. Walking around, exploring new sides of the labyrinth; which you would always do because of how big it was. It gave me peace, you can say that. The wind swaying slightly, sending small shivers down my spine as I walk around in only my dress, which was surprisingly short.

After a while of walking, my eyes bloodshot red and cheeks tear stained but I had finally calmed down when I heard footsteps behind me. I knew those footsteps all too well. I stopped and heard the footsteps stop as well. I started walking again when I heard his footsteps once again. “For gods sake Jareth! Leave me alone!” As I turned around; there he was. Standing as close as ever, right in front of me. His nose just touching mine as his lips ghosted over my own. I looked up and my eyes meet his. I didn’t look away like I normally would. There was something about his eyes that made all flushed up.

His mismatched eyes never failed to express himself. They would always tell me, tell others what he was feeling. The power he hand over me by just giving me that one look. That I couldn’t lie about. Even if I tried he would prove me wrong. But this time, I wasn’t gonna let him have that power. His hand moved its way up and brushed past my check. “My queen, come back with me” I moved away from him as I let out a scoff. “I am your king and you will respect me!” I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t make me say those 7 words, my king. Cause we both know that I have all right to say them” He stood there quietly, not moving. “You wouldn’t” Jareth said after a while of just standing still. I narrowed my eyes at him. “Oh, I wouldn’t? Try me” I had never even dared to play with Jareth. I knew that he always got it his way. When he wanted something, he got it. He want, he got it.

He was speechless, clearly since he wasn’t used to me clapping back at him. I never did it, I wasn’t a person who did it. I was a kind and loving person, who cared for others more then I cared for myself. That would often be a problem, but thanks to living here in the labyrinth. It’s all gotten better. I wouldn’t say I wished myself away but I traded my own self for my little sisters, so she would go back home. I never really meant to wish her away, I guess I was just too scared to wish myself away. If you’ve ever wished someone away, we always say “I didn’t meant it!” It’s a classic. Jareth says he is used to hear it by now.

I wouldn’t call myself as cruel as Jareth was but it was quite fun to watch how people would make the wrong decisions in his labyrinth. Me and Jareth would always lag beths on whether this person can solve his labyrinth. As boring as Jareth is, he always says they won’t make it, when I however have faith in them, even how dumb they might seem. I always had faith in people. Sometimes I had faith in the wrong people. Trying to see the good in everyone person that passes my way. I was a kind person. Jareth would sometimes say I was too kind. At some points I could agree on that. I’ve been hurt too many times by just being me. But I’m proud of who I am, and I wasn’t gonna let anyone drown me all their opinions. I didn’t ask for it. When the sharpest words wanna cut me down, well look out. Cause here I come and I’m proud of who I am. This is me, accept it or leave it.

“What has gotten into you lately?” His voice was soft, but you could hear the stern tone In his voice. “I-I’m just tired of sitting there, watching you treat my friends like dirt! They have a heart and soul to Jareth! Just because I married you, doesn’t mean you can treat them like that!” He stood there, quiet for a moment. “so you want me to be nice” It sounded more of a statement then a question. I crossed my arms across my chest. “Yes. And I want more freedom for myself” This caught him off guard. “excuse me? Don’t you enough freedom here?” This time, there was a hint of worry in his tone. “Don’t take it the wrong way Jareth. I love it here in the underground but I just wanna be able to walk out here without having your eyes on me 24/7 “. He nodded and turned around while scratching his head. “How am I supposed o know if you’re in danger? If someone hurt you?!” My lips forming a small smile. “Jareth, my darling love. I’m a big girl, I think I know how to stand up for myself. You don’t always have to worry over me” I took ahold of his hands, squeezing them lightly. Starring up into his mismatched eyes. 

“No could blame you if you walk away Y/N. I’m just scared something is gonna happen to you my precious. I couldn’t bare to let that happen. I move the stars for no one other then you” I let my hand move up to his face and cup his cheek. I felt him lean into my hand then turning his head, giving my hand a kiss. “I’ll never leave you. I chose this life, I decided to spend forever with you. It’s not long at all.” The usual smirk that was placed on Jareth’s lips returned. His hands moving around my waist, pulling me closer to him as he leant down and left kisses on my cheeks. His hands moving lower, until one of them was resting on my ass. Since Jareth was a few inches taller then me he would always play around with me. Always. To be honest, it kinda annoyed me. What could I do about it? He was The Goblin King after all. He had all power over me. 

“Now, now Jareth. Go apologize.” I could hear his groan forming in the back of his throat from inside the croak of my neck. I patted his shoulder as he let go off me. “Can’t I do it later? I wanna show my precious queen how sorry I am” I couldn’t help or stop the blush creeping up my neck as my cheeks grew warm. I heard him let out a low chuckle as he slowly stepped away until he disappeared. I was quite jealous of his magic. I always begged him to teach me but he never did. Guess he was scared that if I finally learned how to deal with magic I would leave him. Honestly I couldn’t blame him. After that last girl who broke his heart. I think her name was Sarah? She wished her brother away by ‘accident’. While saying ‘I didn’t mean it!’ Bullshit. But I can’t really say that. Since I clearly wished something myself, but I chose to stay. At first I didn’t really like Jareth. But I saw his pain. He wasn’t as mean as people would think. He just wanted to be loved like most people do. Wanted to feel someone’s love. To wake up to someone everyday and hear those three words. ‘I love you’

                                                        *** “Y/N my darling, where are you?”  Those words could scare me so much. I made a deal with Jareth. After our argument a few weeks ago; I would hide in the labyrinth and he had to find me, without using his magic. If he could within 13 hours everything would stay the same as before but if I won, I would get more freedom. Could wander in the labyrinth without having him watching me 24/7 and he would teach me magic. He was so unsure of that one. My theory was right. He was scared that I would leave him, I wouldn’t dare to. He saved my life when no one else did. 

“I know you’re around here precious. Why don’t you come out and save us all the trouble”

He had about 2 hours left. I couldn’t believe I ‘this’ close to beating him. I stepped back a few steps which resulted in me falling over and hitting my head in the ground. It hurt quite bad and I knew Jareth had heard it. His eyes were magical themselves. He could hear anything, even from miles away. I held my hand in front of my mouth to quiet down my sobs that were forming in my throat. One part of me wanted to scream out his name but the other part wanted to keep quiet. I heard his footsteps getting closer, and my tears streaming down my cheeks. Feeling the back of my head was wet. I knew that it wasn’t water. 

“Jareth”

My voice was weak and fragile. Soon enough he was standing in front of me, holding me closer to his chest as he rocked me back and forth while holding my head carefully. This man was a weird one for sure, but he was someone I loved very much. Someone I wanted to spend my forever with, not long at all.

[purplebass]

Prompt 53 please 🥰🧡

Here it is! I hope it’s good, I tried to give my best 😘💜

Title: If They Only Knew Couple: Jesse Blackthorn and Lucie Herondale, Blackdale Prompt: “That wasn’t very subtle.”

“And then, the princess decided that it was time she took the matter into her own hands,” Lucie typed on her typewriter. “She needed to save the prince from his fate, otherwise he would die by the hands of his evil mother. But what could she do, as he lied, motionless, on the cold marble floor of the castle? She could only-”

“Interesting.”

Lucie jumped and looked up, accidentally clicking some buttons and messing up the sheet of paper inside of her writing machine.

“You scared me,” she said, putting her hand on her chest to stop her racing heart. Lately, her heart always beat faster whenever a certain guy was around her, and this time, it was pounding both because of the anxiety and the excitement. She really liked to see that boy around her, and she wondered if it was the same for him. She sighed.

Jesse appeared at the side of her mahogany desk. “I didn’t think a girl who can see ghosts could be easily scared, to be honest.”

“If you appear out of nowhere, she could be,” Lucie protested, then she tried to fix the typewriter. The paper was stuck in the middle of the machine, which meant she had to use another one and rewrite everything she had written over there.

As she adjusted the typewriter, Jesse gazed at her with amusement. Lucie didn’t know, but he took pleasure in seeing her write and in being so lively.

“I sense you’re angry with me,” Jesse said, but his voice was playful, not bitter.

Lucie pouted, trying to keep her stance, but it wasn’t possible. “I am not the resentful type, Jesse. Even if you creep up on me while I write.”

Jesse raised his once dark eyebrows, and he shrugged. “Now I’m creeping up on you,” he told her as he paced around her room, noticing she had quite a lot of books hidden in there, “but you aren’t angry with me.”

He tilted his head and glanced at her. She was still trying to get the sheet of paper out of the damned machine, but it wouldn’t budge. “Ugh,” Lucie complained. “The paper is stuck.”

As if on cue, Jesse moved swiftly until he was by her side. The paper was torn but it was indeed blocked inside the typewriter, and Lucie wasn’t able to get it out so she could go back to her writing.

She glanced about her room, expecting to see him near her bed, but he wasn’t there. She realized he was near her, a hand placed on her desk and his head bent on the typewriter, inspecting the mess she had just created with the crumbled sheet. Jesse turned towards her, and Lucie couldn’t help but be attracted to his green eyes, which were one of the only features of him who still gave him a semblance of a living person and not a ghost.

Lucie’s mouth fell slightly open as if she was startled by the nearness, but at the same time, in awe at the guy’s appearance. He was handsome, and she thought it was just a pity that he was a ghost. She felt sorry for him. He could have been married by now, had kids, living the shadowhunter life he was meant to live or becoming whatever he wanted to be. But he was dead.

“I wish I could help you,” said Jesse, taking her back to reality, and ironically linking his words with the thoughts she was having on him. “But we never had this thing at Chiswick, and I have no idea how it works.”

She nodded and broke the connection, checking the typewriter again. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it covered,” Lucie assured him, and tried to get back at it, and in the end the sheet was freed from the typewriter. She looked at it grimly. “Finally. But now I have to type it all again.”

“What were you typing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was writing The Beautiful Cordelia,” Lucie beamed, rearranging some papers on the furthest side of the desk. “I was about to say how the princess saved the prince from his evil mother. She was about to…” she said, then left her sentence hanging in the air.

“Interesting. What was she about to do?”

“Are you really interested, Mr. Blackthorn?” Lucie wondered, smiling at him, but not actually answering his question. The only people who seemed interested in her writing were her family and Cordelia, and despite they told her she had talent, she had never showed her work to somebody else. “I mean, I could be writing the next best seller, if you ask me.”

Jesse shrugged and sat on the desk. Even if he was almost a shadow, he didn’t lose his spark. He was not tangible, at least for others, but he still carried a strong presence along his translucent body. “You just called me Mr. Blackthorn,” he laughed. “And I’m sure your story is nice. But, haven’t you just said that your character was about to do something? What was it?”

“I called you Mr. Blackthorn because… never mind,” Lucie shook her head and rose from her chair.

“No, now I want to know, Miss Herondale,” he urged with curiosity.

Lucie, who, in the meantime had walked to the center of the room, stopped her anxious pacing and gazed back at Jesse. He still leaned on the desk, but he turned towards her, his hands folded on his long legs.

“Well, aren’t you older than me? You were born one year before my parents got married. There is an 8-year gap between us. If you weren’t dead, you’d be 24 now, Jesse Blackthorn.”

Lucie said that in one go, without stopping for a second to get air in her lungs. She hoped she hadn’t offended him – after all, he was a ghost. Despite the sadness of his situation, she was stating facts. Jesse was born on the same year as Charles Fairchild, her mother once told her, but the children were as different as night and day, despite they both had forest green eyes. Tatiana Blackthorn, Jesse’s mother, didn’t want her brothers Gideon and Gabriel to see her baby. Her aunt Cecily and uncle Gabriel had been disheartened by her choice, especially her uncle, but they couldn’t do anything.

Jesse seemed to mull over what she said, and he waited to give her answer, to the point that Lucie thought she had been rude. Maybe it wasn’t nice to remind a ghost that he stopped aging? Yes, definitely. She was about to say more when she heard him speak.

“I honestly don’t feel that old. I mean, I feel that time passes, but I don’t perceive it the same way the living do,” he explained, staring at the window in front of him. “So, I don’t think you should call me mister. We are the same age. And I thought…” he started, then sauntered to her, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Lucie did not move as he approached. “What did you think, Jesse?”

“We are friends, aren’t we?” he inquired with a placid tone.

“Of course, we are,” she assured him, looking delighted to hear so. “Of course, we are friends.”

Jesse beamed, and his eyes seemed to lit up with something Lucie had seen ever so slightly in him, ever since they had started meeting in secret. Hope, comfort. Warmth. How could a person who had been dead for seven long years, exude such glow?

“Marvelous,” he commented, then went to sit on her bed. “Since we’re friends, I expect you to tell me about your problem. About your story, I mean.”

“The problem with my story,” Lucie commenced, “is that I don’t know how to write the scene I was about to write.”

“How so?”

Lucie bit her lip and started pacing her room. “The princess is meant to kiss the prince to save him, since he’s dead,” she said. “Because they are fated and by kissing him, she can revive him”.

She thought how ironic that situation was. She, Lucie Herondale, hadn’t intentionally decided to insert what was happening in her real life into her story. She hadn’t realized it until then, with Jesse sitting on her bed. Jesse was dead, and…

“What is the problem, then?”

“The kiss. The kiss is the problem,” Lucie admitted honestly. She wasn’t shy, but she had to confess that speaking of kisses with a guy her age – he said so, made her cheeks heat. And it didn’t help that they were alone. In her room. At night. She dared to look at him, to see his reaction.

“You’ve never kissed somebody before,” Jesse declared, nonchalant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it. Pardon me.”

Lucie wasn’t somebody who hid her emotions, and she wouldn’t hide them in front of him. After a minute of deliberation, she decided that honesty, as always, was the best policy. “No, no. I’m not offended. Truly. And… you’re right.”

If Jesse was surprised, he didn’t let it show over his face. His expression remained neutral, tranquil, peaceful. And he was quiet even when he replied her, in contrast with her current mood. She was anxious. Suddenly, her stomach felt empty, as if something was in there. Butterflies?

“With this I can help,” Jesse murmured, grinning. “Or… By the Angel, I’m being too improper tonight, am I? I should just go.”

“No!” Lucie blurted out without thinking, realizing her voice was too loud. “No. Don’t go. I think it would be a nice experiment for me to practice kissing. This way I’ll be able to write it more realistically, even if I doubt Jane Austen or Charlotte Brontë had kissed somebody when they wrote their novels,” she answered him, trying not to appear too enthusiastic about it, even if she was indeed super excited for that moment. Not only because of the kiss, her first kiss, but because of him.

Jesse nodded. “Come here, then,” he patted the spot next to him on her bed. “Or you want to do it standing?”

Lucie tried to keep her mind clear. Focus, she needed to focus. How was better? “It’s better on the bed,” she finally decided, “since my prince is supposed to be on the floor, deceased.”

“Then how about we do it like that? I don’t mind being on the floor,” he proposed.

“Excellent,” she agreed. Jesse, as swift as usual, lied down on the Persian rug she had in front of her bed. She then followed him and sat next to his shadowy body. “Close your eyes, Jesse.”

And he did as he was told. Lucie didn’t know what to do exactly, and she tried to wrack her brain and think about one of her favorite novels. How did the heroine kiss the hero at the end?

She put her hands on the sides of his neck, then dove down onto him, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips on Jesse’s translucent ones. At first, it didn’t happen anything. His lips were soft, not warm but delicate. Then she felt his hand on her back, trying not to impose on her body too much, and his lips started moving slowly on hers. He was doing what she usually did whenever she ate her favorite cake, eating small bites, slowly, savoring each piece with delight to make it last longer. He was gentle, not urgent. It seemed endless, relaxing even, until she heard the door open behind her and she felt as if she was free falling from a cliff. Which was not far from the truth.

She luckily fell on the Persian rug.

“Did you scream earlier, Lu?” her father asked, getting into her room. “And why are you on the floor? Perhaps you fell?” Will wondered, and she could read worry written on his face as he knelt down and touched her head.

“No, papa. I was just mad because a piece of paper stuck in the typewriter, that is all,” she explained, hoping she didn’t have I’ve just been kissed by a ghost written all over her face.

Will glanced at the desk, then at his daughter. “Do you want any help?”

“No, thanks, papa.”

He seemed satisfied of the answer and stood up, offering his hand to her, which she accepted. She hoped that her hand didn’t give her away. It was sweaty.

“But you didn’t tell me why you were on the rug,” he said.

Lucie loved her father, but sometimes he was too… too curious like a cat. Or a child. While this amused her, she didn’t intend to reveal to him that she was alone in her room with a handsome Blackthorn, so she opted for a white lie, which wasn’t completely a lie.

“I was trying a scene for my book. The character faints, so I wanted to describe it well.”

Will nodded, grinning. “Ah, alright, I see, sweet Lu. Be careful.”

“I will, pap,” she agreed as he walked out of her room. “Oh, dad? Can you knock next time?”

“I knocked, Lucie. Three or four times. The fifth time I decided to barge in.”

Lucie was stunned. “Ok, well, then… goodnight, papa. Say goodnight to mom too.”

“Yes, my dear. See you tomorrow,” he said, then closed the door behind him, leaving her alone once again.

She sat on the bed with her hand on her heart and sighed.

“That wasn’t very subtle,” Jesse said, appearing in her room out of the blue for the second time that night. But he wasn’t sitting on her bed with her.

“It was indeed very close,” Lucie agreed, gazing at Jesse. He had a smug face, and he was laughing. “Are you pleased with yourself, Jesse Blackthorn?”

“A person like me rarely lives situations like this anymore,” he confessed. “Let’s be thankful I was a ghost, or your father would have thrown me out of the window.”

“My father? No, I don’t think he would have,” she replied with determination. “But my brother, maybe… and the other Merry Thieves…”

“Who are the Merry Thieves?”

“My other brothers,” Lucie conceded. “I’m the only one who can see you besides your family.”

Jesse nodded, but didn’t answer. She thought he probably didn’t know why she was the only one who could see him besides for Grace and Tatiana, and she hoped to find that out soon.

“Lucie,” he murmured after they stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. “Was the experiment alright? Did you get what you were looking for?”

“It was perfect,” she said, scanning his face to read his expression. He wore his quiet expression like a glove. She wondered if he also felt the same things she did, but didn’t dare to ask him. After all, hadn’t he said he was helping her for her writing research?

“I’m glad.”

“Thanks for the help, Jesse.”

“Anytime, Lucie.”

Lucie smiled at him and then went back to her chair, behind the desk. Now she had to write. “It’s better if I write the scene while it’s still fresh in my mind.”

“I agree,” he answered, approaching het desk with his silent gait. She was loading another sheet of paper in the typewriter when he spoke again. “Lucie?”

She glanced at him, expectantly. “Yes?”

“Can I stay? I mean, I’d love to see you write, if you don’t mind.”

Lucie couldn’t help but smile. Not only she liked the idea, but she also felt a sweet tinge in his voice, as if he was shy to ask her that. “You don’t even have to ask. You can stay anytime.”

“Alright. I’ll be quiet,” Jesse said, and Lucie wondered if he did know how true that statement was about him, but at the same time very wrong. Because despite Jesse was a ghost, a reserved ghost, he also managed to scream something very clear whenever she looked at him.

Jesse wanted to live.

Lucie didn’t know what she could do to help him. For now, she would just reenact their kiss in her writing, pretending for a moment to be The Beautiful Cordelia of her story, the princess kissed by the prince tortured by his evil mother until she could, hopefully, do it for real and for the whole world to see.

[syrahnbloodfeather]

Circled by the Wolves Pt 1

Ten minutes after leaving the warmth and embrace of his beloved wife and Ijiro was already regretting this journey. The roaring applause of the pounding rain drowned out bells ringing in the north and the east, with a heavy cloud resting lazily on the whole of the city. What would have easily been a howling blizzard melted into an angry rainstorm thanks to the Eternal Summer’s grip on the High Kingdom, but that only made it more dangerous; if the aqueducts failed for whatever reason, the lowest rungs of the Outer Sprawl would suffer from some serious flooding. Those folks have already endured enough this year. Ijiro did his best to remain vigilant, but in this weather he couldn't see anything beyond a few meters in any direction; all he could focus on was the lantern in his son's hand, which seemed to do more harm than good. Zeth’romas turned the corner and began walking down a flight of stairs, compelling his father to finally say, “Are you sure you know where you’re going? I can’t see shit in this fog, and the rain ain't helping.”

“You probably need glasses, old man. I can see just fine.” He spoke over the rainfall’s chorus. “We’re almost there.” Ijiro opened his mouth to protest, but he couldn’t muster the effort to shout over the rain; he didn’t like being out in the open, especially when he was practically blind by the orange glare of the lantern and the choking morning fog, but he trusted his son more than most. Before long he recognized the long marble pillars arching over his head, and the familiar sound of a thousand raindrops striking leaves and grass instead of cobblestone. He hopped over a puddle large enough to bury his boots in and stepped into the domain of House Hearthdust.

The manor itself was massive. Barely half as tall as the Amber Castle but easily twice was wide, it had to have at least three hundred rooms. When Ijiro and Zeth’romas approached the main door, the nearby guards seemingly ignored their presence until they were close enough to be guided in without a word. “Welcome, esteemed guests.” A slender woman was waiting for them inside, likely told of their coming. “Please, allow us to take your coats and any weapons you may carry. I will escort you to the masters of this humble abode.” Ijiro gave his son a peculiar look, but decided against commenting; he was just happy to bask in the warmth of the nearby fireplace and rid himself of his absolutely drenched cloak. “Right this way.”

Lord Pathis Hearthdust had the foresight to wait in a room near the main entrance. There was a gold encrusted scroll in his hands that certainly looked important, but when he glanced up to see his invited guests, he quickly rolled it up and safely tucked it into his robes. “My sincerest apologies for requesting your presence at such an early hour and under such dreadful weather… but time is of the essence.” Lord Pathis paused only long enough to squeeze himself into a chair clearly not built for an elf of his stature. “Do you know how House Hearthdust amassed our fortune?”

“I don't.” Ijiro pulled out a chair near where Lord Pathis sat and made himself as comfortable as he could. “The story is your house made it by cornering the tavern market, but only fools actually believe that to be true.”

“Correct. Running a network of taverns is certainly a lucrative business, but it's all a front. In truth, we are information brokers. We essentially sell secrets to the right buyers.” A thin smile flashed across Lord Pathis’ lips, but Ijiro wasn’t amused.

“You tell us this now, instead of when you were supposed to? Why?”

“We… didn’t think it was important… at the time.” Lord Pathis nervously scratched at his chin. “We pay twice the tribute - and gladly so. We planned to inform House Bloodfeather once the Amber Glade joined the rest of the Horde to wage war with the Alliance. Truthfully it was your erm… threat… that changed all of that.” With a snap of his fingers the doors behind Lord Pathis opened. Ijiro furrowed his brow at the young boy who entered, a child no older than eight. “This is V’ydaras, my baby brother.”

“M-milord…” The boy squeaked, bowing awkwardly.

“After the attack on the Glade, and your men swept the streets hunting down the Void Elves that ransacked our domain, Daras was the only one with the cunning to look where others didn’t. And his men found this.” Lord Pathis nodded to his little brother and leaned back in his chair. Vy’daras shuffled over to Ijiro’s side with an envelope in his hands. Ijiro turned to give his son Zeth a cautious glance before bringing his attention to the black wax seal keeping the letter closed.

“I don’t recognize this sigil.” He finally admitted, setting it back onto the table.

“It belongs to House Duskthorn. A new house, barely a year old.” Lord Pathis waved at his brother, who scurried to his side. “A Ren’dorei house, Lord Bloodfeather. They are the ones that orchestrated the attack on the Glade. One final question remains… who commanded them?”

“Final question? No… I have quite a few questions. Am I supposed to take your word? Trust you’re telling me the truth, yeah? How do I know you didn’t write this letter, invent this seal yourself, and make up the name of some house I won’t even remember a day from now?” Slowly Ijiro leaned forward to stare at Lord Pathis and his little brother V’ydaras with his single remaining eye. Zeth noticed his father’s right hand was under the table, clutching the hilt of a dagger he likely ‘forgot’ to hand over; he was close enough for a kill, if his wounds haven’t slowed him down enough, but they would never make it out of this mansion alive. “How do I know you didn’t send those men through the breach to find and fuck my wife to death…?”

He was as pale as a ghost, and his little brother looked no better. “I-I…”

“I meant what I said when I addressed all of the great houses.” Anger hung on his every word. “I promised blood. How can you prove this letter is genuine? What are you willing to do to prove your loyalty?”

“Whatever you need to p-put your fears to rest, Lord Bloodfeather…” Lord Pathis stuttered, briefly glancing sharply at his little brother for him to leave.

“Even if it means taking your sister into custody, yeah? What is her name? Alayn, is it?” Ijiro studied his face for any trace of deception; ever since he learned how to play poker so many years ago, he found he had a knack for reading people’s faces.

Lord Pathis was already covered in cold sweat. He swallowed hard before muttering, “Whatever it takes. My Lord.”

[nessaandoliver]

title: grief characters: nessa, oliver words: abt 3k notes: this little exercise was basically just “how many spoilers can i stick in here without actually spoiling anything” lol. i had too much fun writing this. hope you enjoy <3

::::

He startles awake to see Nessa bent over him and he panics for a moment, afraid that something might be wrong, until he registers the look of quiet conspiracy on her face. She presses her finger to her lips, her gaze quickly darting to where Adam lies sleeping soundly, snoring lightly with his mouth wide open.

Oliver gives her a questioning look, but she nods to the door and then skirts around his sleeping mat and quietly leaves. He is tempted to lay back down, but she must have come to him for a reason. Still half-asleep, he pulls his worn jacket on over his sleep shirt and slips into his boots in the corner of the room. To err on the side of caution, he straps his gun at his hip and then sleepily makes his way towards the door.

He stifles a yawn and runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix the awkward tuffs sticking up in the back. Nessa waits outside the room, leaning against the wall with her hands tucked behind her. He raises an eyebrow as the door clicks shut behind him.

“What are you doing up this late?” he whispers.

The moonlight that slants through a nearby window catches on the curl of her hair, turning it birch white. “I couldn’t sleep,” she replies softly. “I...want to show you something.”

“Now?” he asks, propping his hands on his hips like a disgruntled mother of two.

“No, tomorrow afternoon,” she drawls with heavy sarcasm. “Yes, now! Come on.” She beckons him to follow with the twitch of her finger and, against his better judgment, he follows.

The old castle hallways are drafty, and even though it’s late summer, this high up in the mountains the nights are chilly. Oliver pockets his hands as he follows Nessa down spiraling staircases and stone corridors, feeling more and more awake with every step he takes.

“Reina would kill me if she knew I let you lure me out of the castle without proper protection,” he says, speaking softly even though they are alone. There may be ghosts in this castle, forgotten by time, and he doesn’t dare talk louder than he has to, out of fear he may disturb them. Dust makes the air feel thick.

Nessa replies, “What Reina doesn’t know won’t hurt her.” After a beat, she adds. “You make it sound as though I’ve left you no choice.” He hears her footsteps stop and he makes a soft sound of surprise when his chest bumps against her shoulder; he hadn’t realized how close he was walking behind her. “I’m not a princess anymore. I do not give orders.”

He regrets his poor word choice. “I know,” he says. “I almost just went back to bed.”

She starts forward again. “You’ll be glad you didn’t, I promise.”

They fall into a comfortable silence as they make their way toward the grand entry hall, where all the tall windows are glassless and gaping, allowing large chunks of moonlight to split across the marble floor. Oliver pauses when she reaches the front doors and pulls on the metal rung to swing it open.

“We’re leaving the castle?” he asks.

She flashes him a smile that is far too mischievous, and far too pretty. She is practically monotone, bleached by the moonlight, but it turns her into a dreamlike figure. He wonders briefly if he had even woken up at all.

“Think you can handle it?” she asks, raising an eyebrow. He draws closer to her with a smirk.

“Oh, I can handle it,” he assures her, straightening the lopsided collar of her jacket.

She peers up at him without restraint or hesitation, meeting his gaze head on, mirth hiding there at the corner of her mouth. He grins down at her, giving her a wink, his hands lingering around her throat. Oliver retracts his hands and pockets them, but he doesn’t step back and neither does she.

“There’s a little chapel on the castle grounds, down by the river,” she says in a voice quieter than before, warmer than before. “It’s really not so far from here. We’ll be fine.”

He tilts his head, a gesture that invites her leadership. “Show me.”

She gives him a slight smile and then turns and beckons him to follow as she begins her trek down the gentle slope from the castle doors. The shallow hill stretches for at least a mile, all the way down to the riverbank. He walks side by side with Nessa on the path, the two of them resting in a companionable silence, neither of them wanting to shatter the quiet moment.

He can’t remember the last time he was alone with her. Reina and Adam are always close by, both a blessing and a curse. He can’t do or say anything stupid to Nessa with an audience, but on the other hand, he can’t do or say anything to her at all. Reina’s obvious and disgruntled disapproval of him is no secret, either. It’s funny, how she trusts Adam - Nessa’s least favorite person - more than she trusts Oliver, especially since he’d never done anything to explicitly deserve her skeptical scrutiny.

Fixing his thoughts back on the moment, Oliver wonders how Nessa would react if he reached out and took her hand, and then banishes that thought entirely. This is no time for him to indulge in his own desires, and it would be cruel of him to act on them when she has had so much else to deal with lately.

He dares a quick glance at her from the corner of his eye. Her short hair bounces around her chin, her eyes half-lidded in thought as she watches her boots crunch against the dirt path. A part of him very nearly asks her what is on her mind, but another part reasons that if she wants him to know, she’ll share. Nessa has never been afforded very much privacy in her life, and the last thing he wants to do is pry.

About fifteen minutes later, she points to a tiny, building standing alone near the bank of the river. Nessa’s steps quicken. “Do you see it?”

“Yeah. It looks small.”

She nods and goes on ahead. He smiles as he watches her rush forward, content to linger behind for a moment, and take in the lovely, moon-bleached scenery around them. The chapel is as tiny as he thought it was going to be. The white stone nearly glows in the moonlight, crumbling pieces of the roof resting on the ground, overgrown with tiny purple flowers. The grass here reaches Nessa’s knees, swishing as a gentle breeze blows through the valley.

Nessa takes a deep breath as she pushes the front door of the building open. The hinges creak with dreaded protest, loud and wailing and resistant, before the opening is large enough for her and Oliver to both slip in. She disappears into the shadows first, not even looking back to make sure he would follow.

“Watch your head,” he hears her say from inside.

He ducks as he enters. “Were people back then always so short?” he asks.

“No, you’re just freakishly tall,” she replies.

Oliver opens his mouth to respond to that, but his quip dies on his tongue when his eyes find the large, stained glass window at the back of the chapel, casting jewel tones on the ground. The inside of the building itself is empty, the pews had either never existed or had been taken out a long, long time ago. A bed of grass covers the floor, softening Nessa’s footsteps as she goes deeper inside, the many windows wide enough to allow for bright slices of moonlight fall into the building.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, finding his gaze drawn back to the stained glass. How it had survived for so many years without shattering is a mystery. The castle has to be at least a couple hundred years old, and abandoned for half that time; it’s only safe to assume the chapel has been around for just as long.

“Isn’t it?” Nessa replies, her back to him, voice echoing off the empty walls.

A thought occurs to him. “How did you find this place? When did you find this place?”

She shrugs, the wave of her hair caught in the moonlight, still facing away from him. “I went for a walk last night.”

He frowns. Hadn’t she told him tonight that she couldn’t sleep either? That makes this two nights in a row. Oliver approaches her slowly, entering the the shadows before her and turning to face her. The darkness almost entirely obscures her expression, but she can probably see his clearly and that’s all that matters. His hands curl into fists inside his pockets.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly.

She is quiet for a moment. “Not yet,” she says, her voice fragile.

He blows out a breath in relief, glad that she isn’t going to try and hide this from him. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, even though he promised himself that he wouldn’t pry.

She gives a funny little laugh, almost self-depreciating. “Do I?” she wonders aloud, as if to herself. “When Reina asked, I said no.”

“That’s okay,” he assures her gently. “You don’t have to.”

Nessa takes a deep breath. “Reina did not have an easy life. Her mother died giving birth to her and her father was very sick, and blind. He couldn’t do anything for himself. At a young age, Reina was out selling newspapers and picking up other odd jobs just to take care of her father and herself. She never got to go to school. I think some neighbor took pity on her and helped her learn to read and write.

“Her father died when she was fifteen years old. She had to spend a year on the streets of some backwater town in the west, fending for herself, until she turned sixteen and enrolled in the military academy in Niaren. She excelled. Just before her eighteenth birthday, she was promoted to the royal guard. That’s when I met her.”

“We’ve been together ever since,” she continues. “Reina knows everything about me, and I have always trusted her with all of my secrets. I’ve shared everything with her. So why?”

The words hang in the air between them. Oliver feels as though she might be on the cusp of breaking. “Why what, Princess?”

When she speaks, her voice is eerily calm. “Why can’t I tell her how scared I am?” she asks quietly, as though speaking too loud could bring the whole church down on them. “I watch that horrible day play out every night in my head and I can’t stop it and I can’t tell her.” She sucks in another deep, deep breath.

Oliver knows. She doesn’t have to say that she blames herself for what happened at the palace. She doesn’t have to cry or scream to relay the pain she keeps where no one can see it. He knows because he has lived it, too. He lives it every day. His face crumples like a wad of paper at her words. He swallows a thick lump of emotion caught in his throat.

“The night my parents died...the night my sister was kidnapped… I just.” He stares hard at the space between their boots on the dark floor. “I just hid. My mom was screaming for me. I could hear my father yelling for someone to go get help. The nearest neighbors to our estate were only two miles down the road - not very far away at all.”

He wrinkles his nose, smelling phantom smoke. The nasty scars on his arm and shoulder throb at the memory. Shame wells up inside of him, but he forces the words out. It’s been a long time since he’s shared this with anyone and it hurts. “I didn’t do anything. I just sat in a closet with my hands over my ears until the ceiling fell on me. I woke up in a hospital two days later.” His voice is as soft and flickering as the single flame of a candlestick. “I understand, Princess. I blame myself, too.”

She is quiet for a long moment, and there is a slight hitch in her breath as she struggles to compose herself. Again, he wants to take her hands in his, to feel her skin on his and ground her to this spot. He doesn’t know if its more for her comfort or for his. Instead, he just stands there, hands tight in his pockets, memories searing across his thoughts like shooting stars.

When she speaks again, her voice has a tremor in it. “Does it get easier?”

He can’t lie to her. “No. But you get stronger. And you can promise yourself that you will do everything in your power to make sure it never happens again.” He blows out a puff of air that lifts the lock of his hair off his forehead for a moment. “Princess, listen. I personally think you’re crazy for believing even a fraction of this is your fault, because you can’t control the will and actions of another person. But I get it. Just… Just don’t let it consume you.”

He steps closer to her and he reaches out with both of his hands to take hers. Propriety be damned. “Promise me.”

Her hands, stiff at first, become pliant, her fingertips chilled against his warm skin. “I didn’t want to burden you with all of this when I brought you here, Mr. Kenton,” she says.

“It’s no burden,” he replies. “Seriously. You’ve never been a burden, Princess.”

She sighs, an unexpectedly harsh sound. “Can you stop calling me that? I’m not a princess anymore.”

Despite the situation, he chuckles at her frustrated tone. “You’ll always be a princess, whether you like it or not.”

Her hands tighten on his and she steps even closer. The toes of their boots might be touching. The corner of her open jacket brushes against his thumb and he can smell the rosewater of her hair drifting up to meet him. He acknowledges the way his heart does a quick sprint, and swallows.

“I am not your princess, do you understand?” she says softly. “I don’t want to be that person, to you.”

He feels his gaze grow sharper, more focused. Even in the darkness, he searches the shadows of her face for her expression and is disappointed when he can’t see a thing but the slightest slope of her nose.

“I wish you’d just call me Nessa,” she adds after a moment.

His breath catches. “I can’t,” he says, very nearly pained by the words. They come out of his mouth like cotton, dry and rough.

She lets her fingers play over his, sighing more softly this time, turning her head down to look at their hands. He is content to stand there and let her think, enjoying the simple feel of her chilly skin against his.

“I know,” she finally says, her thumb resting in the cradle of his right palm. After another moment passes, she adds, “I promise.”

He softens like butter, feeling half-drunk on the resolve in her voice, the way her fingers thread through his and then squeeze. “You won’t be alone,” he tells her, his voice far more intimate than he means for it to be.

“I know,” she murmurs again.

They stay like that, silent again. Oliver dreads the moment they have to let go. He doesn’t know when he will be this close to her again, so raw and vulnerable and open. He is sorry that she is enduring so much pain but he more than glad to share it with her. To make it so that her demons can rest with his.

Reluctantly, he pulls away when she yawns.

“We should probably get back,” he says. “It’s getting colder out.”

She hums in agreement. When they get back to the palace later, he makes sure to walk her to the room she shares with Reina, knowing that when they separate, everything will go back to the way it was before tonight. There will be distance between them in the daylight.

He catches her hand at the door. “Please remember what I told you,” he murmurs.

She nods, looking up at him with sleepy eyes. “I will.”

“And I’m here to talk whenever you need to,” he adds.

“I know.” She smiles just a bit but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Thank you for sharing your story with me. I know...I know it must have been hard. I’m so sorry.”

Oliver resists the urge to touch her face, to see if she will lean into his hand and linger there. Instead, he steps forward and brushes the hair back from her forehead to place a chaste kiss there at her hairline. She goes utterly still for a moment, but her hand tightens around his marginally before letting go. When she steps back, her expression is soft as a dream.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

She opens the door to her bedroom and mouths a timid little, “‘Night,” before slipping away. The door closes with a soft thump. Oliver holds his breath for a moment before letting out a big sigh, resting his forehead against the door. He stays there for a while, shelving away everything that had happened meticulously, afraid of forgetting even a single second.

The only thing that pulls him back to his own room is the promise of a decent cushion and the happy knowledge that he is far too tired for dreaming.

[maychorian]

Weekly Voltron Fic Recs #36

Rules: You can find past weekly rec lists here, and non-list recs in my general fic rec tag. Also follow @maychorianrecs for individually tagged posts, the easier to search and reblog. This is stuff I like, and I have a huge bias toward Lance, hurt/comfort, and general fluff, in that order. Gen unless otherwise noted. Please comment on the fics if you read and enjoy them!

The Hunter from the Hill by valkyriered Words: 5,741 (3/?) Author’s Summary: Post-series, the Holts welcome Shiro into their home. A series of ficlets crossposted from tumblr. Not necessarily in chronological order– posted in the order they were written. My Comments: Warning for heavy angst, depression, PTSD, and various anxiety responses to trauma. This is realistic and very well-written, but mind the tags. I love the idea of the Holts taking in Shiro post-series and caring for him, but everyone is having a very rough time. The fic is technically complete, as each chapter is its own story, but the author is leaving it open to add more in the future. I adore these aftermath stories. Exactly the kind of stuff I want to read.

Space Hell by firesfly Words: 5,008 Author’s Summary: “I wonder if there’s such thing as space-hell,” Lance mused. “Like, the higher you go into space, the closer you are to hell.“ or. The paladins find Space Hell and it’s just as bad as it sounds. My Comments: Really interesting episode-like fic with the paladins fighting a horrible environment, plus some monsters. It’s up to Keith to save them all, and it’s a rough road.

Cookies, candles and some care by SerenePhenix Words: 3,603 Author’s Summary: It had to come full circle. That was the way things worked. That’s what made the world go round. Shiro’s just glad that Lance is there to help. -OR: After Lance it’s now everybody else’s turn to get the sniffles. My Comments: A follow-up to that modern AU sickfic where deathly ill pizza boy Lance stumbles onto the other paladins, who instantly take him under their wing. This time everyone else is sick and Lance is the best nurse ever. So sweet.

Dear Little One by SunshineAndRainbows Words: 3,986 (2/3) Author’s Summary: The paladins hadn’t been expecting to find the baby. Allura hadn’t been expecting their reaction to it. My Comments: The paladins with kids or babies is always adorable, and this one is particularly so. Very interesting worldbuilding here, too, more plot-oriented than most kidfics. I’m interested to see how it will shake out.

Perdu by SerenePhenix Words: 7,130 (1/3) Author’s Summary: He did everything they’d asked of him. He had fought a war that had not been his to begin with because it was the right thing to do, because at the end of it all stood the promise of returning to his family. He was done. He wanted home. What he did not expect was for a man obviously just as lonely as him to join him on the journey. A man willing to listen, willing to understand.So many possible realities and so many ways that it could go wrong. Or maybe just right. My Comments: Really interesting fic with Lance leaving Team Voltron after Shiro’s loss makes them all a little crazy, then running into Lotor and traveling with him without realizing that they’re supposed to be enemies. I’m not sure what’s coming next, and I am both nervous and excited. Really well done and heartachey.

Black by Any Other Color by mckinlily Words: 4,430 Author’s Summary: Team Voltron is in shambles. Lost and hurting in the wake of Shiro’s disappearance, they can hardly stand each other, let alone work together. And in the midst of this, Hunk finds Keith in the Black Lion’s hangar.Hunk learns something about Keith, leadership, and his role as the Yellow Paladin. My Comments: I love Hunk as the heart of the team, chasing down hurting teammates and doing his best to bring them in and show them some love. Keith desperately needs support here. They all do.

Takashi Shirogane Takes the World by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 4,384 (2/?) Author’s Summary: Shiro has seen more foster homes than he has years on Earth, but he’s certain that this one is the last. He’s fiesty, angry, and thinks he can handle anything. That’s until he meets his new foster parents, with their never ending patience and understanding; his foster brother, with his bizarre habits; and the ghost of a boy who lives in his room, who turns into his best friend. He’s not ready for anything, but especially not a new family. My Comments: Family AU in which the Holts take in Shiro and Keith, based The Great Gilly Hopkins. I haven’t seen or read that one, but already this AU is tugging at my heartstrings and making me eager for more. Great stuff, very well-written.

Allura and the Paladins by rebornlover Words: 3,096 Author’s Summary: The Paladins learn abit more about their commander and Hunk holds an Altean celebration My Comments: Really sweet fic with Hunk and Lance making an effort to understand Allura better, and then attempting to ease her and Coran’s grief for the loss of their civilization.

Advanced Maintenance by VelkynKarma Words: 1,392 (1/?) Author’s Summary: Maintaining an alien prosthetic limb can be difficult even with help from your friends. Fortunately, Shiro’s able to get a little extra assistance from a few unexpected places. My Comments: Poor Shiro, but I’m so glad the mice were there to help! Very cute and fluffy fic. And there will be more in the future! I’m looking forward to it.

Recoil/Release by Cheshyr Words:  20,696 Author’s Summary: When Keith is bitten by an alien creature with venom that causes your dominant emotions to be amplified, the team is ready for a day of dealing with an incredibly angry paladin.Which means they’re not ready at all for what actually happens. My Comments: Warning for implications of past child abuse. This is heartbreaking, but so well done. I loved the way everyone got a moment to interact with Keith while he was in a fear-driven state and try to help, even if it wasn’t quite successful in the end. They all just care so much.

Platonic VLD Week 2 - Double Drabble Collection by hufflepirate Words: 1400 Author’s Summary: 7 double drabbles from the second Platonic VLD Week.See chapter titles for basic details like which characters are in/the focus of each one.Prompts: Day 1: Restraint / Impulse Day 2: Traditions / New experiences Day 3: Tandem / Separation Day 4: Home / Exploration Day 5: Temporary / Constant Day 6: Fighting / Forgiveness Day 7: Free tropes day / Week 1 leftovers My Comments: Absolutely every single one of these is perfect in just 200 words. Hufflepirate writes very powerfully in a very small space. I think my favorite was the Coran one, but they’re all amazing.

Seventh Wheeling by Swump (Zelan) Words: 952 Author’s Summary:  So I see lots of fics where Lance refers to himself as a seventh wheel and I’m actually getting a bit tired of the phrase. So of course what better to do than write a prompt entirely centered around it. My Comments: Shiro does a really lovely job of reframing this issue for Lance and helping him see himself in a different light. Really sweet.

Accidents Happen by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 2,169 Author’s Summary: “ ‘He’s grown!’ Antok cheered, leaping to his feet as if his previously sore joints had been entirely renewed. He scooped Keith up effortly, one massive hand around his middle, and tossed him up into the air. Keith screamed. Antok laughed with glee. ” My Comments: Keith temporarily morphs to a Galra form, and Antok is DELIGHTED. It’s adorable.

Forgiveness by luoup (ravenic) Words: 1,698 Author’s Summary: Day 6 Prompt 2:  ForgivenessHow to be forgiven My Comments: Finding Matt isn’t as happy for Shiro as it should be, because he’s so worried about how Matt will react to what he did. Of course, Matt doesn’t see it that way.

Only Temporary by Revasnaslan Words: 1,241 Author’s Summary: Following Shiro’s disappearance, Allura finds it difficult to sleep… so she and the Black Lion have a chat. About as well as they can without having a bond.—Written for Shallura Week Day 6 (Black / White) My Comments: Lovely bonding moment. Allura deserves all the appreciation.

And The View Will Be Different Tomorrow by this_book_has_been_loved Words: 1,882 Author’s Summary: Pidge had an uncanny ability to find each and every nook and cranny and hiding place on the Castle. There were more secret rooms on this ship than even Allura and Coran probably knew of, and Lance was sure Pidge had discovered them all. - Pidge and Lance have a heart to heart and do some stargazing. My Comments: Absolutely precious. I love these two hanging out and bonding and sharing their grief about their families.

Dogs of Marmora by EdgarAllenPoet Words: 3,517 Author’s Summary: ’What is that thing and why is it in my castle?’ Allura asked. None of the paladins replied. Kolivan offered her a helpless shrug.‘It’s a dog.’ “ My Comments: The cutest, sweetest Dads of Marmora fic yet. The paladins explain to Kolivan why having a dog is a good thing, and then he gets to see it with his own eyes. Adorable.

A Space Birthday! by icycoldmoonprincess for gardenofmaris Words: 2,320 Author’s Summary: It’s just too good that one of my dearest friends and Lance share a birthday month….not to mention how much like Lance she is…..Happy Birthday, Mari! Hope you enjoy the fic :) (Since I gave you a birthday present super early, I just had to do something for today) My Comments: Super cute fic with everyone pitching in to give Lance a nice time. Very pleasant read.

The Peace of Order by Katerie Words: 1,402 Author’s Summary: Lance starts to see why Zarkon’s been allowed to rule for over 10,000 years. My Comments: Lance has an argument with an alien and realizes that some moral quandaries cannot be resolved. Really interesting to read.

Heroism Gets You Killed by teacupfulofbrains Words: 15,428 Author’s Summary: Five times Lance McClain recklessly risked his life to prove his worth to his teammates, and one time they showed him he had nothing to prove. My Comments: Maybe just a little over the top, but man, I really enjoyed this fic. Lance’s team loves him. A lot. It’s his own head that’s preventing him from seeing that. Klance is included, but the focus is on the team.

Accidents Happen by Swump (Zelan) Words: 3,198 Author’s Summary: don’t go on tumblr too much or you’ll write i&i fic for a show you’ve never seen Real Summary: Keith gets something in his eye and then he gets something worse in his eye. Whump ensues. My Comments: Poor Keith, but it was great to see everyone leap into action to help him.

Tasting Science by Anonymous for Longpig Words: 1,470 Author’s Summary: Coran discovers something while preparing a dinner for his new family. My Comments: Really cute fic with Coran enjoying a treat from Earth, then sharing it with everyone else.

trust fall by prophecy Words: 1,574 Author’s Summary: The story of how Allura got her earrings. My Comments: Love litte Allura being stubborn and nosy. Her relationship with Alfor was so lovely, too.

Treat by Eastofthemoon Words: 1,690 Author’s Summary: Keith takes Shiro grocery shopping. My Comments: This is from a really cute AU where pre-teen Keith ends up on the run through the universe with Shiro and the red lion. This installment is adorable, as usual. It’s sad that Keith has had to focus so hard on survival at such a young age, but it’s lovely to see Shiro spoil him.

It’s About You (it always has been) by Yellowtaffeta Words: 11,562 Author’s Summary: For thousands of turns the Prides have defended ARUS from the baleful eye of the dark star. It is now the ninth pass and the lion men have dwindled. Only Pride Garrison is left to face the coming sweep of the rouge planet. Not that anyone thinks the dark star more than a legend after such a long interval. But the Galra are coming. It is up to four newly impressed rookies and a Paladin with the wrong lion to face the coming disaster. Lions must fly when there’s Galra in the sky! My Comments: I’ve never read the series this AU is based on, but now I want to. The author does a good job of giving enough worldbuilding for the story to make sense, even while just throwing us straight into the middle of an extremely crazy and chaotic sceen. All of the paladins and their lions are very intriguing, and their interactions are well done. This feels like the start of a very epic adventure, and I would happily read more. The fic could definitely use a beta, though.

Quit Playing Games by BossToaster (ChaoticReactions) Words: 3,116 Author’s Summary: Lance makes a deck of Uno cards. It goes as well as expected. For Platonic Week 2.0 My Comments: This is one of the funniest fics I’ve read in the long time. The chaos and petty revenge of a Uno game is out in full force. It’s great to see the kids just having a good time together, for a certain value of good.

The Field of Blood by Genesister (papirini) Words: 4,607 (1/?) Author’s Summary: Takashi Shirogane is about to go on a journey to find himself. A journey where, supported by his friends, he learns a secret so shocking that it could potentially decide the fate of the universe - and, along the way, he comes to understand what it means to be a leader. What it means to be himself. Well. Provided the experience doesn’t kill him first. Or worse. The final part of the Helvicta Blues. My Comments: I’ve already recced the other stories in this series, but I would be remiss not to inform you of this one, too. The start is already so INTENSE, with all of the paladins captured by the Galra, under threat of death and torture, and then that first cliffhangar, hoo boy. I do recommend reading the other stories first, but this is so so good.

Bonding with the Princess by TheForeverGirl Words: 6,201 (3/?) Author’s Summary: Allura feels that she doesn’t know the Paladins as well as she should. Her solution? She bonds with each of the paladins My Comments: This fic could use a beta, but it’s really cute to see Allura deliberately taking the time to get to know her paladins one-on-one. Great characterization and lovely chats for each so far.

Previously Recced Fics That Updated:

Light on the Dark Side of Me (20546 words) The Machinations of Perception (30182 words) mostly void, partially stars (17349 words) Dislocation (19250 words)  -  now complete familiar (74649 words) As Color Fades Away (69760 words) The Ones Who Were Left Behind (22902 words) Lost Boys (9051 words) Truce (139049 words) Down Time (Don't Let Me Down) (11142 words) When You Reach Me (30133 words) Someplace Like Home (369075 words)  -  now complete cough syrup (7992 words) The Times They Remembered Pidge Was a Girl (11908 words) earth shaker (3263 words) Ten Days (16478 words)

[alicesoneandonly]

In-depth Character Sheet

Credit to Sir Ender at this writing forum.

Reblog or repost. DO NOT remove credit.

TAGGED BY: @actuallymuffet

TAGGING: Whomever wants to do this

(Note: This is a mix of my personal headcanon as well as canon. It’s also long ashell and going under a read more.

This also has references to Hive City/Citta Alveare as well as his original canon. Anything talking about Ian Yorkland is Citta Specific! (For now.)

Also, I ended up being lazy in parts of this. Whoops.)

FULL NAME: Peter White MEANING: His surname comes from the fact that he’s the White Rabbit. NICKNAME: Pety, Peta-chan (Pierce), Rabbit (Everyone else), shit rabbit (Alice) MEANING: Derivatives of his name and/or role coupled with insults. AGE: 18-23, though I Have him set as 23 BIRTHDAY: September 5th (Headcanon; in canon he doesn’t have a bday) ASTROLOGICAL SIGN: Virgo (See above) GENDER: Male ALLERGIES: TBA SEXUAL PREFERENCE: Bi and ace (largely unknown to him) THEME SONG(S): Song of Love (Character song)

APPEARANCE HAIR COLOR: White/Silver HAIR STYLE AND LENGTH: Short and at chin length. EYES COLOR: Scarlet red. HEIGHT: 175-185cm WEIGHT: TBA OUTFIT/CLOTHING STYLE: Red checkered pattern jacket/coat, pink shirt, brown slacks, red socks and brown shoes with red soles. Buttons on jacket and sleeves are done as tiny clocks; red tie with a clock design on it, though the clock is backwards; has a pink arm band on one of the arms of his coat; frame less glasses. His style is that of a high ranking government official/something loosely based off of the original White Rabbit clothes design as well as having an intellectual appearance. DISTINGUISHING MARKS(SCARS,MOLES): None. All wounds and scars heal after a time period or two. SELF CARE(MAKE UP): He wears none. FIRST IMPRESSION ON PEOPLE: “He gives me chills/Why is he so cold/Why is he a murderous asshole?” SKIN COLOR: White? BODY TYPE/BUILD: Surprisingly well built despite coming off as lean. DEFAULT EXPRESSION: A neutral, blank expression; sometimes he scowls while looking at his surroundings with a cold, distant gaze. POSTURE: Standing upright and proper. PIERCINGS: None. DESCRIBE THEIR VOICE: Very formal but not deep? His voice is high pitched in rabbit form though.

RELATIONSHIPS MOM: Murdered/dead. HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Not well since Peter murdered her. DAD: Same fate as his mother. HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Same as with his mother. SIBLINGS: Same fate as their parents. HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: Same as with their parents. CHILDREN: N/A HOW WELL DO THEY GET ALONG: N/A PAST LOVER(S): Alice, though she as never his lover. CURRENT LOVER: Ian Yorkland (Citta); no one yet (indie) REACTION TO MEETING SOMEONE NEW: Disinterest and disgust. Could care less. ABILITY TO WORK WITH OTHERS: ...depends on the person, but really he prefers to work alone because he hates everyone else. However, he can work with others if he absolutely has to. LEAST FAVORITE TYPE OF PERSON: Anyone like Blood Dupre, to be honest. I am way too lazy for this meme. PARENTAL TYPE(PROTECTIVE,ETC): Strict and protective; at times overbearing but genuinely does care. Needs his partner to pull him back into line and be more gentle.

PERSONALITY ..WHEN YOU FIRST MEET THEM: Cold, uncaring, aloof, distant, lonely; when Alice meets him he’s the exact opposite, almost. ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY LIKE YOU): Complex, narrow minded, affectionate, lost, not in tune with his emotions/has very low emotional intelligence; loyal, clingy, excitable, happy ..AS YOU KNOW THEM BETTER(AND THEY DISLIKE YOU): First meeting x 100 that results in murder/death, possibly. Pure hatred. FAVORITE COLOR: Red (But with checkered print!) FAVORITE FOOD: Anything with mushrooms. Also mushrooms. FAVORITE ANIMAL: …himself? He doesn’t have a favourite. FAVORITE ELEMENT: None. LEAST FAVORITE COLOR: None. LEAST FAVORITE FOOD: None. LEAST FAVORITE ANIMAL: Cats and dogs, but he generally hates other animals so... HOBBIES: Learning about his partner/lover in order to better understand them. USUAL MOOD: Neutral/uncaring? DRINK/SMOKE/DRUGS: None, none, and none.

DARK VERSION OF SELF: N/A

LIGHT VERSION OF SELF: N/A HOW SERIOUS ARE THEY: Very serious, especially about those he loves. Tends to treat everything seriously, and take everything seriously to boot. CLASS IN AN RPG: N/A BELIEVE IN GHOSTS: Nah. (IN)DEPENDENT: Very independent. VULNERABILITY: Being alone/abandoned/discarded by those he loves; showing/expressing any sort of feeling because he doesn’t understand them and they are scary as hell to him. OPINION ON SWEARING: Crude and befitting a lower class. However, he has sworn on occasion, but it is rare. DAREDEVIL VS CAUTIOUS: Cautious. He doesn’t let his guard down for a moment. MUSIC TYPE: Classical (probably?) /No music preference MOVIE TYPE: He has none BOOK TYPE: Anything pertaining to work or understanding his love interest/partner COMFORTABLE TEMPERATURE: upper teens, celsius SLEEPING PATTERN: He tends to sleep during the night periods, though most nights not very well. He’ll sleep on his side but tosses and turns. While he technically does not need sleep, he tries to be as rested as he can. He can’t really sleep well due to his thoughts and his inability to turn his mind off. CLEANLINESS/NEATNESS: Very clean, very organized. DESIRED PET: None. HOW DO THEY PASS TIME: Work. BIGGEST SECRET: He is Alice’s Sunday Afternoons/is the period of time that she loved above all else. HERO/WHO THEY LOOK UP TO: N/A WHAT ANIMAL WOULD THEY BE: N/A COMFORTS: Clean/fresh space (bedroom, living room, office, etc.), his lover/partner, affectionate gestures from said lover/partner.

HOW DO THEY REACT TO… DANGER: He basically gives no shits because, to many, he is the danger. He does not see anything as really dangerous because it’s all a part of the norm for him. However, he will be cautious if it’s something/someone he would struggle against. SOMEONE THEY HATE WHO HAS A CRUSH ON THEM: He’ll straight up attempt to kill them, alongside displaying as much revulsion and disgust as he possibly can. PROPOSAL TO MARRY: Complete shock and disbelief, followed by intense happiness once it all sinks in. (If it does because lbr here it takes him a while on the emotions thing.) DEATH OF LOVED ONE: Intense Despair and self blame. DIFFICULT GAME/MATH/ETC: He can get impatient and frustrated very quickly. Depending on what it is he will either not stop until he gets it, or he will brush/pawn it off onto someone else. INJURY: Could care less if he’s injured and will keep pressing forward. He took a deep slash to the back in his manga and was still able to stand upright and showed very little sign of discomfort or pain. His injuries back in Wonderland also heal within a time period or two, so he’s not really bothered by such things. SOMETHING IRRESISTIBLY CUTE: Fawns over and clings to it, which is what he does with Alice. However, he rarely, if ever finds anything cute (except Alice) so this really doesn’t apply to him.

HISTORY 

BIOGRAPHY: Peter is the White Rabbit, as well as the prime minister of the Castle of Hearts and the Country of Hearts. He lives in the castle with his superior, the Queen of Hearts whom he serves as second in command (ear piece for the queen, servant, etc etc.) as well as the Knight/Knave of Hearts, Ace whom works under Peter. A number of faceless maids and soldiers live there as well.

He peeked into a period of time on a whim one day and found Alice, whose feelings of sadness and regret captivated him. He also took notice of the Sunday Afternoons she spent with her sister, which were a precious, treasured time. He could feel Alice’s affection and love for this time period, and before he knew it he found himself watching over her and visiting her often. By loving this time, Alice had come to love Peter himself, who was an embodiment of that time though she did not know it. 

Watching over her, Peter saw some of what went on in her life, including Lorina’s death and the effect it had on Alice. He also saw that the time they shared was close to ending, so h needed to act fast. Peter went to Nightmare and asked for his help in bringing Alice to their world, which he agreed to. Between the both of them, Peter was able to take Alice down the rabbit hole and give her the Medicine of Heart, which bound her to the game that would eventually (or hopefully) bind her to their world. He did this because he wanted her happiness, even though it meant that she would have to ultimately reject and discard him. For her to truly be happy means to integrate herself into Wonderland, and to do this she needs to cut all ties with her world. Peter, embodying her Sunday Afternoons as well as the love she had for her sister is one such tie.

Despite all of this, Peter still tries to win over her love and affection, most times with mixed or negative results, because he doesn’t learn and lets his emotions and feelings carry him away.

(Note that from here I get into stuff that applies to Citta only things).

Eventually he ended up in a place called Hive City, and despite Peter being, well Peter, he managed to make friends and find himself a boyfriend while enduring a bunch of messed up shit and slowly changing, hopefully for the better. He still murders people with little to no provocation though. FIRST APPEARANCE: Heart no Kuni no Alice (Game); Alice in the country of Hearts manga by Hoshino.

KNOWLEDGE LANGUAGES: English  SCHOOLING LEVEL: Wonderland doesn’t have a school so he is probably self taught. FAVORITE SUBJECT (S): N/A INTERESTED CAREERS: He’s the prime minister of the Country of Hearts, second to Her Majesty the Queen of Hearts. EXPERTISE: Expert marksman, well versed in swordsmanship and hand to hand combat; well versed in politics, well read in some areas. CHEMISTRY: N/A MATH: Knows a bit above the basics/knows the math necessary for his job. LANGUAGE: Very eloquent speaker; excellent writer GEOGRAPHY: He is well versed in the geography of Hearts and Clover due to the three way territory war that is going on. POLITICS/LAW: He’s a prime minister, so needless to say he is well versed in this area. Hell, he enforces laws, collects taxes, does all the paperwork needed to go govern an entire country as well as a large as hell territory. COOKING: He’s fairly good, but by no means an expert. Taught himself to cook because he does not trust other people making his food for him (could be filled with poison or germs or something). MECHANICS: N/A BOTANY (FLOWERS): He thinks they are filthy things and makes it a point not to go near or touch them. He knows how to identify them but he doesn’t use them for anything. MYTHOLOGY: N/A DRAMATICS(ACTING,SINGING): He has a character song so he can sing; he doesn’t act but he can be quite dramatic when it comes to Alice in that his actions and words are over the top and over exaggerated. 

READING LEVEL: High. It needs to be for his job. HOW GOOD ARE THEY AT PLANNING AHEAD: Peter is a very cunning, shrewd individual who is never caught with his guard down. Therefore, his planning is as meticulous as his organization. He makes sure to hammer out every detail and as many possible outcomes as he can.

ROMANCE . DO THEY TAKE INITIATIVE: Depends on who it is. With Alice he took the initiative, but only because he got swept up in feelings he fully didn’t understand. With Ian he prefers to have the other take the initiative until he is comfortable to do so himself. HOW DO THEY ACT(SHY,ETC): Again depends on who it is, and who is showing affection. If it’s Alice, he’s very forward and confident, freely expressing affection without a care as to who is watching. If Alice is showing him affection, he tends to get shy and skittish, almost as if he wants to run away.

With Ian Peter is quite reserved and shy, as well as easily flustered. Since they are just in the beginning stages of the relationship, I can’t expand upon this more than I already have at this time. GENTLEMAN/LADYLIKE VS KLUTZY: Gentlemen like. GO SLOW VS JUMP INTO: With Alice he attempted to jump right into things, which did not go well. I think that he would prefer and actually benefit from taking things slow, especially since he has difficulty with understanding feelings and emotions. Taking things slow gives him a chance to work everything out and develop a deeper, more natural bond of love between him and his partner. (By natural I mean not the type of obsessive love he shows in the games.) PROTECTIVE: He is very protective of those he loves, and will even go as far as murdering someone who is harassing/making his lover uncomfortable. You mess with his lover and Peter will kill you. ACT LIKE FRIENDS OR LOVERS: Depends on who it is. With Peter he tried to act romantic towards Alice, but since he didn’t understand his feelings he straddles the line between friends and lovers. Personally he would make a better friend for her than a lover.

Also in general he’ll start out as a friend but move into lover territory. He is friends first, however. WHAT KIND OF PRESENTS DO THEY BUY: Peter tries to buy things that his lover/partner likes, and is dependent upon said partner/lover.  TYPE OF KISSER: Surprisingly good, albeit a bit clumsy and forceful at first. DO THEY WANT KIDS: Not really, but if his partner does then he will give in to make them happy. DO THEY WANT TO MARRY: Eventually yes, but it’s too soon for that. MAKE GOOD OR BAD DECISIONS: Depends. Some of his decisions are good, but only after truly listening to his partner and taking their words to heart (Alice). Most of the time he makes bad decisions because, again, he doesn’t listen. He needs to be given explanations as to why his decisions are bad, from which he will strive to learn and do better.

Education is necessary with this bun. ARE THEY ROMANTIC: Very. HOW ARE THEY IN BED: Peter is a virgin, so N/A. GET JEALOUS EASY: Oh hell yes, and if not restrained it can get nasty. WIFE/HUBBY BEATER: Hell no. MARRY FOR MONEY: Absolutely not. FAVORITE SEX POSITION: N/A WHAT WOULD HAPPEN ON THEIR DREAM DATE: Basically anything involving his lover/partner giving him affection and accepting his. Bonus points for his love for his partner being accepted and returned. OPINION ON SEX: “There are germs involved so eeewww. However, if you desire it, I will endure it for you!”

[inloveandwords]

It works like this

Go to your Goodreads to-read shelf.

Order on ascending date added.

Take the first 5 or 10 books (I’m doing 20 because I have way too many on my list)

Read the synopsis of the books

Decide: keep it or should it go?

Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1) by Kristen Ashley

CLICK FOR SYNOPSIS

Cash Fraser is planning revenge and to get it he needs the perfect woman. So he hires her. Abigail Butler has lost nearly everything in her life and she’s about to lose the home she loves.

Cash meets Abby, who is posing as a paid escort, and the minute he does he knows he’s willing to pay for more than Abby being his pretend girlfriend. A lot more. Abby needs the money or the last thing that links her to her dead family and husband will be gone. The deal is struck but both Cash and Abby get more than they bargained for.

Cash realises very quickly that Abby isn’t what she seems and while he changes strategies, Abby discovers that Cash’s legacy, Penmort Castle, is like all the tales say – very, very haunted. Making matters worse, the ghost in residence wants her dead.

Abby’s found herself in the battle of her life so she enlists Mrs. Truman, her nosy neighbour; Jenny, her no-nonsense friend; Cassandra McNabb, white witch and clairvoyant with a penchant for wearing scarves (and lots of them); and Angus McPherson, dyed-in-the-wool Scot (which means he hunts ghosts in a kilt) to fight the vicious ghost who has vowed that she will rest at nothing to kill the true, abiding love of the master of Penmort.

Date added to TBR: 1/24/17 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: This actually sounds really interesting and I believe I have it on audio.

    Moonstruck (Diablo Lake #1) by Lauren Dane

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In Diablo Lake, Tennessee, a town populated by werewolves, witches, and more, magic woven deep into the earth protects the town’s secrets from outsiders.

Katie Grady left Diablo Lake to get over a humiliating breakup; but her family needs her help, so she’s back, in a sublet right across the hall from the guy she’s lusted after for years. Jace Dooley is hotter than ever, and their friendship picks up along with massive doses of grown-up chemistry.

The very scent of Katie sharpens Jace’s canines, makes the wolf within him stir. There’s nothing more alluring to a Pack Alpha than a sexy female who is so very in charge. She won’t be coddled, but if he plays his hand just right she might be convinced to become his.

Katie presents a challenge to Jace’s wolf nature, whose chief instinct is to protect. Especially now that she’s coming into the magic that is her birthright – and suddenly Jace isn’t the only one who’s interested in Katie, or the raw power she’s just learning to use.

Date added to TBR: 1/24/17 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: I’m not super interested in this one anymore and the ratings aren’t that great on Goodreads.

    Doing It Over (Most Likely To #1) by Catherine Bybee

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Voted Most Likely to Succeed, Melanie Bartlett ended up anything but. The down-on-her-luck single mom wants a complete do-over—is that too much to ask? With her family long gone from River Bend, strong, independent Mel is as surprised as anyone to end up in the quaint small town she once called home. But with her friends, Jo and Zoe, by her side, and a comfortable room at Miss Gina’s quirky bed-and-breakfast, she just might have turned the corner on a new life.

Wyatt Gibson never liked the big city. River Bend suits the ruggedly handsome builder just fine. Wyatt knows he’s home, even if that means being charmed by the appearance of Melanie and her spunky, adorable daughter. Is Wyatt’s calm devotion—even amid a coming storm—enough to convince Mel she may have found a home to call her own, a family that never leaves, and a true love to last a lifetime?

Date added to TBR: 1/24/17 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: I think I owned this at some point (given to me by my mom), but I don’t see myself reading it any time soon.

    Staying For Good (Most Likely To #2) by Catherine Bybee

CLICK FOR SYNOPSIS

Zoe Brown may have been voted Most Likely to Never Leave River Bend, but the paper-thin walls and suffocating air of her family’s double-wide trailer were not what she wanted for her life. Other than BFFs Melanie and Jo, the only thing that kept Zoe sane during high school was her boyfriend, Luke.

She didn’t just leave, she escaped—turning her back on the shame of her black-sheep siblings and imprisoned dad. Now a celebrity chef in Dallas, she can afford all the things she never could have growing up. But when she returns to rustic, ruggedly beautiful River Bend, Zoe has to face all that she abandoned—including Luke.

While Luke was a refuge for Zoe in the past, he knows they inhabit totally different worlds now. Anchored by his parents and his job as a mechanic in his father’s shop, Luke never felt the urge to leave River Bend—until Zoe’s return.

But when the two rekindle their old flame, Zoe is forced to make the hardest decision of her life: remain in River Bend and confront her past before it destroys her, or say good-bye to everyone she’s ever loved…again, this time for good.

Date added to TBR: 1/24/17 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: Same as above.

    The Rosie Project (Don Tillman #1) by Graeme Simsion

CLICK FOR SYNOPSIS

An international sensation, this hilarious, feel-good novel is narrated by an oddly charming and socially challenged genetics professor on an unusual quest: to find out if he is capable of true love.

Don Tillman, professor of genetics, has never been on a second date. He is a man who can count all his friends on the fingers of one hand, whose lifelong difficulty with social rituals has convinced him that he is simply not wired for romance. So when an acquaintance informs him that he would make a “wonderful” husband, his first reaction is shock. Yet he must concede to the statistical probability that there is someone for everyone, and he embarks upon The Wife Project. In the orderly, evidence-based manner with which he approaches all things, Don sets out to find the perfect partner. She will be punctual and logical—most definitely not a barmaid, a smoker, a drinker, or a late-arriver.

Yet Rosie Jarman is all these things. She is also beguiling, fiery, intelligent—and on a quest of her own. She is looking for her biological father, a search that a certain DNA expert might be able to help her with. Don’s Wife Project takes a back burner to the Father Project and an unlikely relationship blooms, forcing the scientifically minded geneticist to confront the spontaneous whirlwind that is Rosie—and the realization that love is not always what looks good on paper.

The Rosie Project is a moving and hilarious novel for anyone who has ever tenaciously gone after life or love in the face of overwhelming challenges.

Date added to TBR: 1/25/17 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: I used to have this on my bookshelf, but I unhauled it recently.

    Worth the Wait (McKinney/Walker Brothers #1) by Claudia Connor

CLICK FOR SYNOPSIS

He broke her heart. When he finds out just how badly, it will break his too.

Nick Walker found the love of his life when he was just nineteen.

Found her. Loved her. Lost her.

It’s been ten years since Nick watched the only woman he ever loved walk out of his life. Now this FBI Special Agent will do anything to win her back.

But it won’t be easy…

Mia’s heart was shattered by Nick. They’ll have to face their painful past if they want a future, including Mia’s own secret about that day it all fell apart.

Do you believe in second chances?

Date added to TBR: 1/25/17 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: This is available on Kindle Unlimited and it has great ratings on Goodreads.

    All That Lies Within by Lynn Ames

CLICK FOR SYNOPSIS

How far would you go to hide who you really are inside? And what do you do when you find the one person from whom hiding your true self isn’t an option? Glamorous movie star Dara Thomas has it all-an Oscar nomination, dozens of magazine covers proclaiming her the sexiest woman alive, and people of both sexes clamoring for her attention. She also has a carefully guarded secret life. As Constance Darrow, Dara writes Pulitzer Prize-winning fiction, an outlet that allows her to be so much more than just a pretty face. Rebecca Minton is a professor of American Literature in love with the work of the mysterious, reclusive author Constance Darrow, with whom she strikes up a correspondence. A chance phrase in a letter leads her to a startling conclusion about the author. What happens next will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Date added to TBR: 1/26/17 Keep or Ditch? Keep Comments: I’m not a big fan of the famous trope.

    The Versions of Us by Laura Barnett

CLICK FOR SYNOPSIS

What if you had said yes? The moments that change everything… One Day meets Sliding Doors in this outstanding debut that is causing a buzz across the publishing world Some moments can change your life for ever. Have you ever wondered, what if…?

A man is walking down a country lane. A woman, cycling towards him, swerves to avoid a dog. On that moment, their future hinges. There are three possible outcomes, three small decisions that could determine the rest of their life.

Eva and Jim are nineteen and students at Cambridge when their paths first cross in 1958. And then there is David, Eva’s then-lover, an ambitious actor who loves Eva deeply. The Versions of Us follows the three different courses their lives could take following this first meeting. Lives filled with love, betrayal, ambition but through it all is a deep connection that endures whatever fate might throw at them.

The Versions of Us explores the idea that there are moments when our lives might have turned out differently, the tiny factors or decisions that could determine our fate, and the precarious nature of the foundations upon which we build our lives. It is also a story about the nature of love and how it grows, changes and evolves as we go through the vagaries of life.

Date added to TBR: 1/26/17 Keep or Ditch? Ditch Comments: Ehhhhhhh

  Decluttering my TBR #3 It works like this Go to your Goodreads to-read shelf. Order on ascending date added. Take the first 5 or 10 books (I’m doing 20 because I have way too many on my list)

[gododdinman-blog]

Two Victorians Who Should Have Written More On Glamis

Missed opportunities are the theme of the two men featured in this post.  Both men were extremely successful and busy in a Victorian way which boggles the modern mind; both would be surprised(or amused) to be accused of missing opportunities, but I am talking here specifically about what they wrote about Glamis Castle, or – specifically – what they did not write.  Scottish author

Andrew Lang

(1844-1912) wrote everything from folklore to history to fairy stories, and was therefore well atuned to testifying and analysing aspects of the Otherworld,  but he only chose to mention Glamis a brief fewf times in his writingy.  One of these is in his comic poem

‘The Haunted Homes of England’

[sic.] from Lang’s book

Ban and Arrière Ban:  A Rally of Fugitive Rhymes

(London, 1894):

The Haunted Homes of England, How eerily they stand, While through them flit their ghosts – to wit, The Monk with the Red Hand, The Eyeless Girl – an awful spook – To stop the boldest breath, The boy that inked his copybook, And so got ‘wopped’ to death! Call them not shams – from haunted Glamis To haunted Woodhouselea, I mark in hosts the grisly ghosts I hear the fell Banshee! I know the spectral dog that howls Before the death of Squires; In my ‘Ghosts’-guide’ addresses hide For podmore and for Myers! I see the Vampire climb the stairs From vaults below the church: And hark! The Pirate’s spectre swears! O Psychical Research, Canst THOU not hear what meets my ear, The viewless wheels that come? The wild Banshee that wails to thee? The Drummer with his drum? O Haunted Homes of England, Though tenantless ye stand, With none content to pay the rent, Through all the shadowy land, Now, Science true will find in you A sympathetic perch, And take you all, both Grange and Hall, For Psychical Research!

I get the feeling that Lang avoided any full-scale analysis of Glamis because he either found that the ‘mystery’ (of the Secret Room) was no mystery at all or that the market for peddling shabby legends and whispers about the haunted castle was rather overcrowded with dubious literary types he did not want to rub shoulders with.  Further evidence that he treated much of the repoprted supernatural world with disdain.  Glamis appears,again briefly, in rather strange surroundings in Lang’s

Books and Bookmen (London, 1886)

.  In the chapter titled  

‘Some Japanese Bogie-Books’

Lang writes:

A somewhat similar and (to my own mind) probably sound theory of ghosts prevails among savage tribes, and among such peoples as the ancient Greeks, the modern Hindoos, and other ancestor worshippers. When feeding, as they all do, or used to do, the ghosts of the ancestral dead, they gave special attention to the claims of the dead of the last three generations, leaving ghosts older than the century to look after their own supplies of meat and drink. The negligence testifies to a notion that very old ghosts are of little account, for good or evil. On the other hand, as regards the longevity of spectres, we must not shut our eyes to the example of the bogie in ancient armour which appears in Glamis Castle, or to the Jesuit of Queen Elizabeth’s date that haunts the library (and a very nice place to haunt: I ask no better, as a ghost in the Pavilion at Lord’s might cause a scandal) of an English nobleman. With these instantiae contradictoriae, as Bacon calls them, present to our minds, we must not (in the present condition of psychical research) dogmatise too hastily about the span of life allotted to the simulacrum vulgare. Very probably his chances of a prolonged existence are in inverse ratio to the square of the distance of time which severs him from our modern days. No one has ever even pretended to see the ghost of an ancient Roman buried in these islands, still less of a Pict or Scot, or a Palaeolithic man, welcome as such an apparition would be to many of us. Thus the evidence does certainly look as if there were a kind of statute of limitations among ghosts, which, from many points of view, is not an arrangement at which we should repine.

Again, in his

Book of Dreams and Ghosts (London, 1897)

, Lang gives another unsatisfactory snippet about Glamis:

Here it may be remarked that apparitions in haunted houses are very seldom recognised as those of dead persons, and, when recognised, the recognition is usually dubious. Thus, in February, 1897, Lieutenant Carr Glyn, of the Grenadiers, while reading in the outer room of the Queen’s Library in Windsor, saw a lady in black in a kind of mantilla of black lace pass from the inner room into a corner where she was lost to view. He supposed that she had gone out by a door there, and asked an attendant later who she was. There was no door round the corner, and, in the opinion of some, the lady was Queen Elizabeth! She has a traditional habit, it seems, of haunting the Library. But surely, of all people, in dress and aspect Queen Elizabeth is most easily recognised. The seer did not recognise her, and she was probably a mere casual hallucination. In old houses such traditions are common, but vague. In this connection Glamis is usually mentioned. Every one has heard of the Secret Chamber, with its mystery, and the story was known to Scott, who introduces it in The Betrothed. But we know when the Secret Chamber was built (under the Restoration), who built it, what he paid the masons, and where it is: under the Charter Room.  These cold facts rather take the “weird” effect off the Glamis legend.

  Lang is referring to the extensive remodelling  work at Glamis which is recorded to have been undertaken in the

Book of Record

by the 3

rd

Earl of Strathmore in the late 17

th

century.  Yet, even if that disposed of the legend of the ‘Secret Room’ (which it does not), there were plenty of other stories and lenegds associated with the castle whichg Lang could have delved into, but chose to avoid.  The tone and content of the above quotes may suggest that Andrew Lang adopted a uniform scepticism to the matters of the supernatural, but that is not the case.  He was the president of the Society for Psychical Research in 1911 and his non-fiction works, particularly his books on history, are considered and thoughtful.  So it must be considered a pity that this author did not extend his interest to Glamis Castle.

  In a letter to Mrs Herbert Mills on 23 August 1908 (

Lang archive at St Andrews university

) the author tells his correspondent about a stay he had at Glamis Castle.  There was was a game of cricket where Lord Strathmore excelled and a little girl – later the Queen Mother – offered him a lovely Persian kitten, which he refused.  However:  ‘the ghosts laid low’.  Yet another missed opportunity from this renowned writer.

  The second Victorian under consideration is

Lyon Playfair

, later Lord Lyon of St Andrews (1818-1898).  As his forename suggests he had a family connection with the family of Glamis, despite being born in India.  His grandmother’s family belonged to the branch of the Lyons who came from Glenogil in Angus. He pursued a career as a chemist initially before gravitating towards politics in the Liberal party.  Like his uncle, the Meigle born soldier Hugh Lyon Playfair he had a long association with St Andrews (both men were buried there).

  Playfair maintained an intermittent contact with Glamis Castle through his life.  Returning to Scotland from India some of Playfair’s holidays were spent in the manse of his great-uncle the Rev Dr Lyon at Glamis.  He described the kirk, manse and castle of his boyhood as follows (

Memoirs and Correspondence of Lyon Playfair, ed. Wemys Reid, London, 1899

):

The old manse is a comfortable minister's house, surrounded by a garden containing one of the oldest of Scotch monuments. The church itself was close to it, in a primitive churchyard without beauty, and then kept in a careless way. At that time the fine old castle was not inhabited by Lord Strathmore. The whole estate was under the management of trustees, of whom my uncle was one, and so the castle and grounds were open to me without risk of being considered an intruder. I naturally busied myself with trying to discover the famous secret chamber, and the awful mystery connected with it. I drew my own conclusions, which were probably as erroneous as those which have been made by others in regard to this mystery. Although my uncle had the same name as the Earls of Strathmore, he belonged to the Glen Ogle Lyons, a collateral branch of the family. At that time the two branches had become close in the line of descent, though now they are again widely divergent.   The park round Glamis Castle is extensive, and has a small stream running through woods. A deep pool, in a sequestered spot, was my favourite haunt, at which I spent many hours of meditation, for I had no playfellows at the old manse. I believe that this lonely pool, surrounded by trees, taught me to feel that happiness depends upon one-self as much as upon one's surroundings. The family of my uncle consisted of his wife and two daughters. The old minister himself was simple and worthy. Daily I would drive out with the grey-haired old man, in a gig drawn by a horse which could not go beyond five miles an hour, but was believed by the owner to be one of the best and fastest horses in the kingdom. The good old man went at the same relative pace in his parochial duties. The minister's wife, my dear old aunt, lavished upon me the love of a mother to a child. Two charming young ladies, my cousins, made my stay at the manse as agreeable as possible, and I returned with gladness at each vacation. They are all dead long since, but my memories of their love and kindness live fresh within me.

  Playfair’s busy life meant he did not visit Glamis again for nearly sixty years.  While he and his wife were staying at Kinnordy House, near Kirriemuir, in 1885 he was invited to the castle with his wife.  Playfair wrote:

It was all wonderfully changed and beautified, but it was the old Glamis still. We went to the top of the castle, and I explained to my wife all the points of interest connected with my life as a boy at this place. Lady Strathmore was full of sympathy with my memories, and insisted on being my guide to see the manse, which I found very little changed, my reflecting haunt by the old pool, and the other objects which I remembered so well. She even showed me a secret chamber, though not the secret chamber which has defied so many keen inquirers. It was delightful to me to see the castle again inhabited by an Earl of Strathmore, who has restored it so as to make it worthy of its great history. In the old hall of the castle we witnessed an operetta written by a son, and acted by the sons and daughters, of our hosts, and most admirably it was performed.