#The kid would have suffered through their intolerance for each other as well

[j-k-writes]

The Bronze Targaryen - 5

Summary - Two and a half moons after (Y/N)'s arrival in Kingslanding he must grapple with his new title as a dragonlord, wedding festivites, his grandsire's sudden illness, and his relationship with his father. The prince tries to balance all of this as the royal wedding looms over him.

Warnings - minor injuries, general HOTD warnings, drinking, canon character death, consummation scene (its minor and a fade to black)

I have decided to mold the lore to my own desires because there is almost next to nothing on House Royce during this time period. Also was going to break this into two parts because its so long but wanted all the wedding festvites to take place during one chapter.

(Y/N) winced as the maester prodded at his nose, the maester made humming noises as he examined the prince’s injuries. He applied a few plaster’s to (Y/N)’s nose, before wrapping it in soaked wool. 

“His nose shall heal fine, my prince.” 

Daemon nodded, “Thank you, you may go.” 

The maester bowed to the two princes, gathering his supplies and leaving (Y/N) alone with his father. Daemon watched as the man left the room, and waited until the doors were shut before turning on his son. He crossed his arms leaning back against a chair, and (Y/N) braced himself for a lecture. 

“How are you feeling?” 

(Y/N) blinked, “What?” 

Daemon pushed himself off the chair, making his way over toward (Y/N). He slowly reache

d his hand out, gently tracing the scratches and bruises on (Y/N)’s face, and (Y/N) was too shocked at his father’s actions to react. “Are you in pain?” 

“I’m fine,” (Y/N) said, looking up at his father. “I’ve had worse.” 

Daemon frowned, and (Y/N) wondered how much his mother had told him of his childhood mishaps. “What were you doing so far off Rosby Road?” 

(Y/N) flushed, “I- uh, snuck out.” 

“You snuck out?” His father’s face lit up, and he took a step back laughing and shaking his head. “How did your uncle react?” 

“Well he doubled my guard for one.” (Y/N) said, remembering his Uncle’s fury when (Y/N) showed up the next morning, face covered in blood and dirt. He had some choice words for the young heir, and (Y/N) was confident Daemon had heard his brother’s opinion on the matter as soon as he stepped foot into the keep. “But he was more interested in the dragon than my misbehavior.” 

“Ah,” Daemon smirked. “Yes, it must have been quite a shock.” 

(Y/N) rolled his eyes at his father, “I know you did something.” 

“What did I do, (Y/N)?” Daemon asked, raising an eyebrow at his son. “I did not drag Vermithor to you, or you to him for that matter. Vermithor made his choice.” 

“And it’s just a coincidence that as soon as you leave for Dragonstone, Vermithor leaves and seeks me out randomly.” 

“Perhaps it was fate.” Daemon shrugged. 

“You don’t expect me to believe that.” 

Daemon approached (Y/N), placed his hands on his shoulders. “It does not matter what you believe, all that matters are the facts. And the facts are that you have claimed Vermithor, you should be proud.” 

“I did not wish to claim a dragon, I never have.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s face hardened. 

“You are my son.” Daemon said, and (Y/N) hissed as his grip on his shoulder tightened. “You are a dragon, you cannot escape that.” 

His father’s face softened at (Y/N)’s expression. He released the boy, and seemed to hesitate before smoothing his hair back out of his face, “You should rest, you have had quite the number of shocks these past few days.” 

(Y/N) watched as father turned on his heel, and exited the chambers gently shutting the doors behind him.

“Lykirī.” (Y/N) smiled, as Vermithor pushed his snout into his chest. He pet the dragon with a gloved hand, laughing as the dragon continued to push him. “You must relax if you wish to fly.” 

(Y/N) had spent almost a week avoiding Vermithor after the dragon chased him down in the woods. Hoping that if he ignored him long enough the dragon would take the hint and leave, but eventually the Dragonkeepers sought him out, telling him that Vermithor had been untamable since he’d arrived in the Dragonpit. So (Y/N) resigned himself to the life of a dragonrider. He’d spent every day since then with the dragon, slowly but surely adjusting to his presence, and Vermithor had calmed drastically with (Y/N)’s visits. 

(Y/N) had taken to flying easily, much to his father’s delight and, as much as he hid it, his own. Although he had felt sick at the idea of claiming a dragon at first, he had come to find pride in the quick developments in his relationship with Vermithor. 

Rhaenyra too found delight in her betrothed’s new life. 

Anytime (Y/N) was free Rhaenyra was dragging him to the dragonpit, insisting Vermithor and Syrax go flying together. Viserys, at first happy to have another dragon in the family, soon grew inpatient with the two teens. Irritated at their constant absence from court, but (Y/N) paid him little mind. (Y/N) had no real place in his court, and he had not yet raised Rhaenyra, his heir, from the role of cupbearer. 

(Y/N) saddled Vermithor, leaning down to whisper to the dragon, “Sōvēs” 

The wind was cool against his face, blowing the strands of hair that had escaped his bun around in his face. (Y/N) had been wishing for clean and open air since he’d arrived in Kingslanding, this just isn’t how he expected to find it. Vermithor rumbled under him, and he laughed, leaning down so that he could rub the dragon’s neck. 

“I know,” (Y/N) spoke, almost shouting to be heard against the wind. “I am sorry I was late.” 

He’d been stuck in court all day, listening to his father and uncle bicker over details of the upcoming royal wedding. His uncle, ever the peacekeeper, had wanted Rhaenyra and (Y/N) to be married in the faith of the seven, as he was to Aemma and later Alicent, his father had other ideas however. 

“I do not worship the New Gods, uncle.” (Y/N) pointed out. 

“It is the tradition of the royal family.” The Grand Maester spoke up, as the other lords of the chamber had gone silent as soon as the tensions started to rise, seemingly fearful of angering any member of the royal family. Not that (Y/N) could blame them, he’d heard stories of his father’s infamous fits of anger. 

“(Y/N) follows the Old Gods like his mother,” His father looked pained to speak the words, but (Y/N) gave him an appreciative nod all the same. “And I have not known Rhaenyra to spend her days in the sept. We are Targaryens, they should marry in the tradition of Old Valyria.” 

“The faith-” 

“Fuck the faith.” Daemon spat. “I will not ask my son to forsake his gods so that some fat septon is comfortable, and we cannot bring a weirwood here so this is the only equitable compromise I see.” 

His uncle and the members of his council had grumbled at the idea, but eventually they conceded knowing this was an argument they could not win without insulting someone. His uncle dismissed them all, brows pinched in frustration. (Y/N) had caught his father’s arm on the way out, stopping him from walking away. 

“Thank you.” He did not meet his father’s eyes. “I know faith is not important to you, but it is to me so- just- thank you.” 

His father gently cupped his cheek, bringing (Y/N)’s eyes up to meet his. His father smiled at him, “You do not have to thank me. It is no secret that I hold no love for your mother’s house, but you do, and you are my blood. I will always defend you.” 

His father’s words still hung over his head by the time (Y/N) and Vermithor had returned to the Dragonpit. 

Rhaenyra was waiting for him as he dismounted, accompanied by a slew of Kingsguard and a royal carriage. The Kingsguard watched Vermithor warily as he grumbled, huffing as though he could sense (Y/N)’s apprehension at the sight laid out before him. 

 “Lykirī.” (Y/N) whispered, urging the bronze beast to return to the Dragonpit. Vermithor huffed one last time at the men, causing (Y/N) to chuckle, before returning. (Y/N) walked over to Rhaenyra, untying his hair and letting it tumble down to his shoulders. “That is quite the party, Nyra.” 

She sighed, “Our presence is required at the keep. We must be readied to greet the lords arriving at the court.” 

A Kingsguard opened the door of the carriage, and (Y/N) offered his hand for Rhaenyra to take. She took his hand, using it as leverage to step into the carriage and (Y/N) followed suit, taking the seat across from her. 

“What troubles you?” 

Rhaenyra blinked at (Y/N), “I am not troubled.” 

“Rhaenyra,” (Y/N) said, smiling slightly, “I can tell something is troubling you. Is it tonight?” 

“No,” She shook her head, leaning forward and placing her hand on (Y/N)’s knee. “No, it’s not tonight, it is this morning. My father is still blind to the schemes of some of those present in his court, they seek to undermine our family in favor of the Hightower children.” 

“Your father will not claim Aegon over you. You are his heir, you will be Queen and no scheming lord can change that.” 

Rhaenyra smiled, squeezing his knee slightly before releasing him and sitting back. (Y/N) turned to look out of the carriage, leaning back into the cushions and closing his eyes. He heard Rhaenyra chuckle softly, before the exhaustion of the day overtook him and he slipped away to sleep.

“You seem nervous.” (Y/N) turned, coming face to face with his cousin. He gave his best attempt at a smile, he fiddled with the collar of his shirt, and Gerold stepped forward. He adjusted the leather jerkin, allowing (Y/N) to breathe easier. “It is odd to see you in such formal attire.” 

(Y/N) laughed, “At least they don’t have dragons on them.” 

“No? I have heard a rumor that you’ve become quite the dragonlord in your absence.” 

(Y/N) reddened, ducking his head slightly, “It was an accident.” 

His cousin laughed, patting him on the shoulder, “There is no need to be nervous, cousin.” 

His cousin smiled at him one last time before joining his other cousin in the precession line. (Y/N) frowned at the sight of Gunthor, he’d been informed when his family and their court had arrived that his grandsire had fallen ill not long after (Y/N) departed, and in his heirs absence his cousin Gunthor, second in line, had taken his place as regent. His grandsire had been too ill to make the journey to Kingslanding, sending (Y/N) his well wishes and Gunthor in his place. 

A sudden hand on his shoulder startled him out of his thoughts. He turned his head to catch his father smiling, he squeezed his shoulder. “The tailors did well, you look like a prince.” 

“I am a prince.” (Y/N) said, and his father’s smile widened. 

“Yes, you are. Remember that, as there are those that would hope you forget.” His father nodded in the direction of Gunthor, and (Y/N)’s expression soured. 

“I do not trust him, I cannot say why but-” (Y/N) frowned, staring at his cousin’s interactions with the Valemen around him. “He did not write to me to tell me of my grandsire’s illness. I am the heir, I should be regent, not him, and yet in my absence he swooped in.” 

His father nodded, “Good. You must recognize the snakes before they strike.” 

His father stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the Valemen. “I am aware that we do not have the best relationship-” 

(Y/N) snorted, and Daemon laughed rolling his eyes. “Yes I know, but you are my son, my blood. And I would like to be not just your sire, but your father as well. I was not there in your youth, let me be there now.” 

(Y/N) frowned, hesitating. He swallowed before finally speaking, “May we speak of this after the feast?” 

“Of course,” His father lightly touched his cheek, “Come we should join the others.” 

He and his father took their places at the front of the party, Gunthor to (Y/N)’s left and Daemon to his right. (Y/N) took a deep breath as the doors opened, keeping his gaze on the two banners bearing the sigils of House Targaryen and House Royce hung in the back of the Great Hall as his family entered. 

“Ser Gunthor of House Royce. Acting Lord of Runestone, Keeper of the Gates of the Moon. And Prince Daemon Targaryen. And his son and heir to Runestone Prince (Y/N) Targaryen the future King Consort.” 

The guests of the hall stood, clapping as they walked down to the high table. The amount of eyes on him made (Y/N) uneasy, but he kept his head high, posture exuding the confidence expected of one of his station. (Y/N) made eye contact with Rhaenyra at the end of the hall who offered him a comforting smile, he nodded to her. 

They paused at the beginning of the steps, bowing to the King, before Rhaenyra stepped around the table making her way toward the crowd. (Y/N) stepped forward, meeting her halfway, he took her hand as his father had instructed him when going over the etiquette required of him at the feast. 

“You must act every bit the king you will one day be, no matter how unused to these events you may be.” His father had told him. (Y/N) scoffed at the advice, he was raised to be the Lord of Runestone, he knew how to act at a feast. 

As (Y/N) pressed a chaste kiss to Rhaenyra’s hand, and claps echoed around the hall, he cursed himself for not taking his father’s advice seriously. He had never known a feast quite like this, hosting the most important lords of the whole of Westeros. Lords he’d never met before like the Lannisters, Hightowers, and Velaryons. He took his place by Rhaenyra’s side at the table, his father and cousin taking the seats by his left. 

He let out a breath as he sat down, scanning the crowd as his uncle started to speak. Rhaenyra grabbed his hand under the table, squeezing it in reassurance, it was only then that he allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. 

"Be welcome,” His uncle smiled out at the crowd, “As we join together in celebration. Tonight is only its beginning. We honor one of Westeros' oldest houses, and a fierce ally to the crown, House Royce. Just as House Targaryen reaches back to the blood of Old Valyria, House Royce reaches back to the blood of the first men. With House Targaryen and H-"

Viserys paused, and everyone averted their gaze to where his lingered. (Y/N) tensed once more as Queen Alicent Hightower made her entrance into the hall. The color of her dress a clear statement to anyone who knew any of the histories. Reluctantly (Y/N) made his way to his feet with the rest of the guests, he shot an amused glance to his side where his father still sat, eyes narrowed at the young queen. 

Alicent addressed Rhaenyra, “Congratulations, step-daughter. What a blessing this is for you.” 

Rhaenyra gave no indication of thanks, and Alicent kissed Viserys on the cheek before taking her seat beside him. 

He’d not yet had any real interactions with the young queen, only knowing things told to him by Rhaenyra and Daemon. He had taken them with a grain of salt, wanting to make his own judgment of the girl, but with the blatant display she’d just shown to the lord’s of Westeros, (Y/N) decided that maybe Rhaenyra and Daemon had been right in their worries. Perhaps the Hightowers did have their own intentions with the crown. 

“Please be seated.” 

(Y/N) traced the rim of his empty goblet as his uncle stood silently, only picking his eyes up from the table when he started to speak. 

"With House Targaryen and House Royce united, once again, I hope to herald in a second Age of Dawn and Dragons in Westeros.” Viserys spoke, and the hall erupted into applause.

“And after tonight’s small affair,” Laughter sounded through the halls, and (Y/N) had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Seven days of tournament and feasting! And at the end of it all, a royal wedding. Between my daughter, my heir, your future queen. And Prince (Y/N) Targaryen, heir to Runestone.” 

As Viserys sat, and everyone else followed suit, Rhaenyra and (Y/N) rose from theirs. They approached the middle of the aisle, and began their dance. (Y/N) had never been much of a dancer, and suffered through the lessons given to both he and Rhaenyra. 

“I feel like a fool.” (Y/N) whispered as Rhaenyra and he side stepped each other. 

“You are doing wonderfully.” Rhaenyra whispered back, taking her place back to back with him. “Ignore everyone, pretend it is just you and me.” 

When they finished, bowing to one another the halls once again erupted in applause. (Y/N) took Rhaenyra’s hands in his, kissing them softly as she gave him a knowing smile. As the rest of the courtiers took their places on the dance floor, (Y/N) tried to escape back to the high table, longing for a cup of wine. He was stopped before he could reach the table much to his dismay. 

“My Prince.” The lady, who (Y/N) did not recognize, blushed, bowing to him. “May I have this dance?” 

(Y/N) gaped at her, before remembering who and where he was. “Yes, yes of course Lady-” 

“Reyne.” 

“Lady Reyne. (Y/N) smiled, mourning his cup of wine. He gestured toward the lords and lady’s dancing, “Lead the way.” 

He had to dance with five young ladies before he finally found his escape. He flopped, very unprince-like into his seat, immediately grabbing the cup of wine laid out in front of him. His father laughed, waving over a servant to refill the cup once (Y/N) had finished. 

“Not a fan of dancing?” Daemon smirked, “Or is it the ladies asking you to dance you are not fond of?” 

“Both.” (Y/N) spoke over the rim of his cup, “They only wish to dance with me because I am to marry Rhaenyra, if I were just the heir to Runestone they’d pay me little mind.” 

“I don’t know about that,” Daemon said, “You are a comely young man.” 

(Y/N) smirked, “Ladies don’t wish to dance with comely young men.” 

“Neither do lords.” His father raised his eyebrows, humor sparkling in his eyes. 

(Y/N) shrugged, smiling at his father’s tone, “You have been talking to Rhaenyra.” 

Daemon leaned close, patting his son on the leg, “I am just glad you two have made this match work for the both of you.” 

“We are not married yet, father.” (Y/N) reminded, “Things may yet just fall apart.” 

Before his father could speak, another lady made her way to the table. She bowed to both (Y/N) and Daemon. “Prince (Y/N), may I have this dance?” 

Daemon snickered, taking (Y/N)’s cup out of his hand. “Well go on, dance.” 

His father had disappeared from the table when (Y/N) had finished, and his cousins were wrapped up in conversation with a lord (Y/N) did not recognize. He made his way to the sidelines, stealing a full cup of wine, and pressing his back against the wall to avoid being spotted. 

He spied his father in the middle of the dancing, twirling Laena Velayron around, and (Y/N) frowned. His father’s wife, (Y/N)’s own mother, had died only three moons ago, and as far as (Y/N) knew Laena Velayron was engaged to some Brasvosi. 

“You would never know this feast was in your honor the way you frown.” 

(Y/N) turned to face the owner of the voice, smiling as Ser Harwin took a place next to him. “Ser Harwin.” 

“Are you not enjoying the feast, my prince?” Harwin smiled, leaning closer to the prince. 

“I am enjoying the wine, some of the company less so.” (Y/N) said, and Harwin laughed. 

“I understand the sentiment.” 

(Y/N) brought the cup up to his lips, smiling around its rim. Harwin grabbed an empty cup, flagging down a servant who filled both of their cups. (Y/N) watched as his father continued to dance with Laena, and Rhaenyra moved through the crowd, followed closely by Ser Laenor. 

Harwin raised his cup up, and (Y/N) followed suit, “To your marriage.” 

“My marriage.” (Y/N) and Harwin laughed as their cups met. 

(Y/N) spent the rest of the feast by Harwin’s side. Harwin had stopped drinking by his fourth cup, watching in amusement as the prince got drunker and drunker with each cup of wine. As the feast died down, and the lords and ladies took their leave, Harwin had found (Y/N) a seat, and was watching him ramble fondly. 

“I do not care for this court, Harwin.” (Y/N) sighed, leaning his head back. “It was simpler on Runestone, but here, here there are too many lords I do not know. I do not trust them.” 

Harwin laughed, patting the prince’s leg, “Perhaps a hall filled with those lords is not the place to have this conversation, my prince.” 

“(Y/N).” (Y/N) said, straightening. He looked Harwin in the eye, placing his hand on top of the knights. “Please call me (Y/N).” 

Harwin’s eyes softened, “Of course, (Y/N).” 

(Y/N) smiled at the knight, keeping his hand where it was before two twin coughs behind him startled him. (Y/N) jumped, spilling his cup of wine onto himself. Harwin laughed as (Y/N) turned to look at the people behind him. Daemon and Rhaenyra stood above him, both with twin amused smiles on their faces. They had never looked more related, (Y/N) mused. 

“Having fun?” Rhaenyra asked. 

“I was informed that this feast was for me, and that I should try to have some fun.” 

Daemon laughed at his son's words, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him up out of the seat. “I think it’s time you take your leave.” 

Harwin stood, grabbing (Y/N) to help Daemon keep the prince upright. Rhaenyra sighed, a smile still gracing her face. 

“I am glad you enjoyed yourself, (Y/N).” Rhaenyra said. “But perhaps next time you can entertain yourself with less wine.” 

(Y/N) stepped forward, stumbling slightly and both Harwin and Daemon’s eyes widened as he moved. Freeing himself from the men’s grasps, (Y/N) approached Rhaenyra pressing a kiss to her cheek. 

“I am sorry that I left you on your lonesome.” (Y/N) said, letting his hand rest on her arm. Rhaenyra smiled, at his words or his drunkenness (Y/N) could not tell. 

She pressed her palm to his cheek, “You are fine. I enjoyed myself plenty.” 

(Y/N) nodded. “Good, because this is for both of us. So we should both enjoy ourselves.” 

“(Y/N),” Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head. “Let us get you to your chambers.” 

Daemon and Harwin grabbed one of his arms, ignoring (Y/N)’s protests that he could walk by himself. Rhaenyra followed the three men, laughing at (Y/N)’s attempts to break free from the two men, and his drunken rambles to all three of the people accompanying him. When they finally reached the room, with some incident much to Harwin and Daemon’s dismay and Rhaenyra’s delight, Daemon turned to Harwin. 

“I have him from here, Ser Harwin will you please make sure the princess makes it back to her room.” 

Harwin nodded, and Rhaenyra pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s cheek. “I will see you tomorrow at the tourney.” 

“Goodnight, (Y/N), Prince Daemon.” 

(Y/N) and Daemon bid the both of them goodnight, before the guards at (Y/N)’s door open the doors to his chamber and Daemon practically dragged his son into the room. Daemon instructe (Y/N) to lift his arms, and when he did he undid the jerkin and brought the tunic over his head, tossing it to the side. 

“Undo your boots.” 

(Y/N) complied, and when he was done Daemon led him toward the bed. When (Y/N) was seated on the bed, Daemon turned to leave, but (Y/N) grabbed his arm and stopped him in his tracks. “We have not had our conversation.” 

Daemon smiled, “Rest, we will have it tomorrow I promise.” 

(Y/N) nodded, “Alright.” 

Daemon pressed him down into the bed slowly, pushing the blankets back so that (Y/N) could get underneath them. He brushed (Y/N)’s sweaty hair out of his face, smoothing it down not unlike his mother used to do when he was ill. (Y/N) leaned into the touch, and Daemon smiled. 

“Sleep.” 

(Y/N) closed his eyes, slipping quickly into rest. But not before he felt the ghost of lips pressed against his forehead.

(Y/N) hated himself the next morning. 

He closed his eyes as he bathed, letting the warm water alleviate some of his migraine. He dressed slowly, groaning as a loud knock sounded throughout the room. 

“Come in.” 

Daemon strolled into the room, taking a look at his son’s appearance before chuckling. “How are you feeling?” (Y/N) just glared at him, causing Daemon to laugh again. He held his hands up in mock surrender. “Sorry.” 

Daemon placed a small vile in front of him, and (Y/N) raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s watered down dreamwine,” Daemon said, “For your head.” 

“Oh,” (Y/N) took the vial, opened it and sniffed it a bit before downing it. “Thank you.” 

Daemon nodded, turning to leave. 

“Are you not here to continue our conversation?” (Y/N) called out, and Daemon turned back to face him. 

“I just wanted to see if you were well.” 

“I am.” (Y/N) smiled, “I just have a headache, I will live.” 

Daemon nodded, taking a seat across from (Y/N). He looked nervous at the thought of continuing their conversation from before the feast, it endeared (Y/N) to see his father’s usual tough exterior come crumbling down at the idea of a conversation. 

Giving his father some respite, (Y/N) changed the topic of conversation, “I saw you dancing with Laena Velayron last night. Is she not already betrothed?” 

“A man cannot dance with a lady?” Daemon asked, although his expression gave him away. 

“Not when that man is you, father.” (Y/N) said. “Do you wish to get remarried? You have no real need for any more heirs.” 

Daemon shrugged, “Perhaps I wish for company.” 

“You are lonely?” (Y/N) almost laughed at the thought. He could not imagine the so-called Lord of Flea Bottom wanting for the comforts of a lady. 

“Well my only son prefers to spend his time at Runestone pretending I don’t exist.” 

(Y/N)’s mood soured, and he frowned. He turned away from his father, crossing his arms like he wasn’t a man of seven and ten and instead a boy of nine. “You did not give me a choice. I was just saving myself from the pain I would feel when you inevitably wouldn’t arrive.” 

“I know.” Daemon ran his hand down his face. “I did not mean that I apologize.” 

“You know you have missed my last ten name days.” (Y/N) whispered. 

“I know.” Daemon said. “I sent you presents but I know that does not make up for my absence.” 

“I never received any gifts.” 

Daemon looked up in confusion, his expression contorted before he let out a bitter laugh. “No, of course you didn’t. Your mother probably never gave them to you. She never held any love for me.” 

“I remember you did not hold much for her either.” (Y/N) spat. “She told me that you fled Runestone the night after I was born, and did not return until my first name day only to flee that night as well.” 

“I was a boy, no older than you are now.” 

“That is no excuse!” 

“No it’s not and I have regretted my decisions every day! I was scared, (Y/N)!” Daemon stood. “When I found out your mother was pregnant I was terrified. We held no love toward each other, and I feared that our hatred toward each other would impact you. I was an idiot boy so I fled. Then you were born, and I was still just this boy, and you were so pure and I could not corrupt that with my hatred so I feld again. I fled again and again, because I was scared I could not be a good father to you, as I could not be a good husband to your mother and she could not be a good wife to me. When I finally realized what an imbecile I had been it was too late, you had no idea who I was.” 

(Y/N) remembered the day of his fourth name day vaguely. 

“(Y/N),” His mother gestured to a skinny man with pale hair and eyes like (Y/N). “Your father is here to see you.” 

The man approached him, and (Y/N) stepped back, placing his mother between him and this stranger. The man’s face fell, and he stumbled back. 

“Perhaps it would be best if I left.” 

“Daemon-” 

“It’s fine.” The man handed a wrapped package to his mother. “Give this to him.”

"You're running? Again?"

"Look at him Rhea-"

"No, run. Like you always do."

The man opened his mouth to speak, but he seemed to think better of it. He turned on his heel and left, and (Y/N)'s mother scoffed.

He had seen his father only a few times after that day, and their meetings had always been brief and curt. His mother had certainly not helped (Y/N)’s view of his father, only ever nodding and staying silent when (Y/N) would complain. He had once asked her why Daemon did not stay for more than a night, and his mother had replied that his father hated the Vale and many of those who resided there. It had crushed (Y/N) to hear, but after learning of the gifts his father had sent that he had not received he could only wonder how much of his own hatred for his father was just what he learned to feel from his mother. 

“I am sorry for my absence.” Daemon said. “I can never make up those lost years, and I know my youth and stubbornness is no excuse but-” 

His father took a deep breath, “(Y/N), I wish- if you would allow, for us to start again. I know I cannot ask you to forget the years I was not there for you, but allow me to start again.” 

“I understand.” (Y/N) said, “I cannot forgive-” 

“-I wouldn’t ask you to-” 

“-but I understand. I understand more than I did at the very least.” (Y/N) said, and the tension in his father’s shoulders eased. (Y/N) smiled, it was probably a bit pained, (Y/N)’s head throbbing even more with the revelations of the morning. “We can try to start again. I make no promises, but we can try.” 

His father smiled, a genuine smile that (Y/N) had never seen across his father’s face before. “Thank you.”

“You are not participating, (Y/N)?” 

(Y/N) looked at the queen from where he was seated next to Rhaenyra, shaking his head politely. “I am not a knight, Queen Alicent.” 

Alicent looked him up and down, the motion making him squirm a bit. She did not respond but she nodded, turning her gaze back to the tourney fields. 

His father was not participating in the tourney either, instead taking a seat in the stands. Ser Harwin was participating though, much to Rhaenyra’s delight. (Y/N) did not find much delight in tourney’s, bloodshed was not a game to be played. 

In all honesty, (Y/N) was bored watching the tourney. Ser Criston had won, wearing Alicent’s favor which (Y/N) could tell irritated Rhaenyra. By the time the melee rolled around the next day (Y/N) was dreading spending the hot day in the stands of the tourney grounds. 

“May I have your favor, princess.” 

Rhaenyra laughed, giving Harwin a small piece of cloth. He tucked it into his armor, turning to (Y/N) who smiled. 

“I don’t have a favor,” (Y/N) said, and Harwin smiled, cheeks reddening slightly. “But I wish you luck.” 

“Thank you, (Y/N).” 

Their luck and favors did Harwin no favors in the melee. Rhaenyra had shrieked when Cristion’s morningstar made contact with Harwin’s collarbone, shattering it and his elbow. But the worst injury of the day had been to Ser Joffrey, and (Y/N) could not get Laenor’s cries out of his mind even as he fell asleep that night. 

There were no more tourney’s after that as a solemn mood had fallen over the royal court. Ser Harwin would live (Y/N) and Rhaenyra discovered, but Ser Joffrey was not likely to. And as it happened six days later, Joffrey passed, and Ser Laenor was inconsolable. Rhaenyra and (Y/N) both tried, even if (Y/N) was not as close with his cousin as Rhaenyra was, but in the end the knight took his leave back to Driftmark before the wedding even happened. 

(Y/N) spent the night before the wedding with his father. His father told him the story of his wedding with (Y/N)’s mother, describing how (Y/N)’s grandfather, Baelon, had to drag Daemon to Runestone. 

“If it is any comfort,” (Y/N) mused. “You had to drag me to Kingslanding.” 

Daemon laughed, “I did. But you will have a much happier marriage than your mother and I.” 

(Y/N) lifted his cup, “One can hope.” 

The wedding itself snuck up on (Y/N), the events of the week leading up to it not allowing him to worry about the ceremony. It was only now that he was dressed in red and gold Valyrian robes, standing atop Rhaenys’ hill, surrounded by the lords and ladies of Westeros, that the nerves started to reach him. 

He could hear the distant roars of the dragon’s in the dragon pit as the priest spoke. (Y/N) lifted the dragonglass blade, handed to him by the priest. He made quick eye contact with his father, who only nodded, before slicing Rhaenyra’s bottom lip. He gathered the blood from the cut, dragging his thumb down her forehead. Rhaenyra took her own blade, repeating the action on (Y/N) before slicing her palm.(Y/N) dragged the blade against his palm, taking Rhaenyra’s hand in his. They joined their blood as the priest spoke. 

(Y/N) took the cup handed to him, drinking from it, before handing it to Rhaenyra who did the same. The priest finished his rites, and (Y/N) cupped Rhaenyra’s cheek, he could taste the blood as he brought her lips to meet his. (Y/N) rested his forehead against Rhaenyra’s as cheers were sounded around them. When they pulled away and faced the crowd, he could see his father and uncle smiling. 

Their hands were wrapped by the priest, covering the open wounds, and they descended down the hill. Rhaenyra did not let go of his hand as they went, smiling at him as he helped her into the carriage waiting for them. “Thank you, valzȳrys.”

Both he and Rhaenyra were dressed in their small clothes separately. He’d been offered food and wine before he was brought over to Rhaenyra’s chambers, but he turned them down. He did not wish to spend his wedding night addled by wine. 

Viserys had insisted on a bedding ceremony, and Daemon had no qualms with the idea. But both (Y/N) and Rhaenyra protested. The meeting had ended unsuccessfully, but (Y/N) suspected Rhaenyra had private words with her father, as by the next meeting the topic had been dropped completely and it was agreed there would be no such ceremony. 

The doors to Rhaenyra’s chambers were opened by the guards, and (Y/N) stepped into the room. Rhaenyra was sitting by the vanity, brushing her hair in a velvet dress that hung loosely from her body. (Y/N) felt like a hedge knight in his plain cloth clothing. 

She smiled at him, placing the brush down on the vanity. She glided across the room, coming to stand in front of him. “Valzȳrys.” 

“Ābrazȳrys” 

Rhaenyra gently grasped the laces of his tunic, undoing them slowly. She kept eye contact with (Y/N) as she did so, letting his tongue wet her lower lip as the laces were fully loosened. (Y/N) grabbed the bottom of his tunic, bringing it up over his head, and placing it on a chair next to him. 

Rhaenyra took a deep breath as she watched (Y/N), she brought her hand up and gingerly traced the contours of his abdomen. (Y/N) took her hand in his, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. 

“Turn around.” (Y/N) said, and Rhaenyra complied. 

He stepped forward, brushing her hair to her front so that he could see the back of her dress. She shivered as his breath touched the back of her neck. He undid the laces of her dress with careful precision, causing her to laugh and joke. 

“Done this before?” 

Instead of responding, (Y/N) let the dress fall down her shoulders, leaving her bare. She stiffened as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, before relaxing as he moved his mouth up her neck. She turned around and (Y/N)’s mouth went dry at the sight of her bare in front of him. She grabbed his neck, leaning up and connecting their lips. She grasped the laces of his trousers, undoing them in haste and shoving them down his legs. (Y/N) stepped out of them, groaning into Rhaenyra’s lip as she grasped him. He could feel her smile against his lips, and he pulled away bringing his mouth to her chest, eliciting a gasp from the princess. 

“(Y/N),” She gasped, and he kissed up her chest to her collarbone and back up to her lips, swallowing her next words. 

He pulled her close to him, lifting her so that she could wrap her legs around his waist and carried her to the bed. He gently set her down, and she smiled up at him. He returned the smile, before reconnecting their lips. Rhaenyra gasped as (Y/N) pulled away to mouth at her neck, she tangled her fingers in his hair pulling him up from where there would inevitably be a mark on her skin the next morning. 

“Stop teasing.” 

“Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys.”

---

Translations -

Lykirī - be calm

Sōvēs - fly

Valzȳrys - husband

Ābrazȳrys - wife

Hen rhinka, ñuha ābrazȳrys - of course, my wife

[my-mt-heart]

TWD 11x14 “The Rotten Core” Review

Listen. We all know that pacing is not The Walking Dead’s strong suit and the outdated week-to-week format only makes it more frustrating. It shouldn’t take fourteen episodes for Daryl and Carol to share a story together, right? And for what’s supposed to be the deepest, most significant relationship on the show, that story shouldn’t feel so small and offbeat, right? The same can be said about Maggie’s and Negan’s story. We had to suffer eight whole episodes of their contentious relationship without change or growth, and now all of a sudden Negan gets to walk into the redemption sunset while Maggie and Hershel are just expected to deal with it? The audacity, right? Well, hang in there, my friends. If this episode reminds us anything, it’s that all the seemingly miscellaneous or even outright missing pieces will eventually fall into place. Because Angela Kang understands these characters have their respective spinoffs to get to. 

Some of us have been so quick to accuse Angela of ignoring or even damaging Daryl’s and Carol’s relationship because she “doesn’t care anymore” or she’s “lost her vision” for them when I think in reality, she’s choosing to sew their disconnection into the plot. The exchange they have in “New Haunts” where Carol asks Daryl if they can “catch up later” and Daryl doubles down with “yeah, later” telegraphs to us, the audience, that they are sitting on conversations that need to be had. In this episode, there is still a lingering tension, but also an eagerness, particularly from Daryl who says he was looking for Carol. They want to finally catch up, but can barely do so without Daryl being whisked away by his supervisor. The lunch date (Daryl’s word, not mine) leaves much to be desired, but nonetheless, it still signifies an attempt to try to find their groove again. The fact that it falls through is an intentional effort on Angela’s part to show that Daryl and Carol are stuck in place, unable to move forward with each other because they keep being led astray by other things that hold little significance in the grand scheme of things. 

Obviously, Daryl and Carol have not reached a place where they can both consciously and openly agree to go on a romantic date, but it’s a little curious that the word is being thrown around coming off of their last interaction where Carol essentially tells Daryl to ask Connie out. At the very least, his choice of words feels like a nod and a wink from the writers, similar to some of the innuendos dropped throughout season 10: “Faster. Hold on.” “Still sore. I bet.” “Wanna frisk me?” 

We also have to wonder what’s going through Mercer’s mind when Carol shows up to Daryl’s place of work and laments to his boss that he never showed up for lunch, fearing something could’ve happened to him. It’s bound to come across as a wife checking in on her husband. Though Mercer’s and Carol’s meetup happens offscreen as I suspected it might, I’ll venture to say it adds Mercer to the list of characters who get to observe Daryl’s and Carol’s bond for what it truly is on a spiritual level. Juxtapose that with a certain other pairing that’s constantly shown through a limited and rather skewed perspective. 

As if Sebastian wasn’t already intolerable, now he robs Daryl and Carol (and us!) of some much needed quality time together? Well, he may just be another punk kid on the surface, but he embodies the elitism that’s controlling the Commonwealth, and even though Daryl is not a conformist at his core, he finds himself trapped in this way of life, emphasized by literally being trapped inside a mansion, because of his devotion to his niece and nephew. Sebastian knows exactly how to exploit Daryl and Rosita to do what he wants, waving money and power around to both secure and threaten the kids’ wellbeing. He says he can make their lives easier, but that also implies he can make them harder too. Side note: How fucking old should Coco be at this point? I would think she’d already be walking, but I also don’t care enough to do the math. 

I called Carol’s rescue mission a watered down version of what we should’ve gotten during the Reaper arc and unfortunately after actually watching, even that feels like I’m overselling it. While I’m disappointed that we only get Carol’s badass zombie shooting behind closed doors, Daryl’s surprised reaction is pretty amusing. The symbolism isn’t lost on me either. Whenever Daryl’s in way over his head, Carol comes to pull him back to what really matters. 

Her feelings about the Commonwealth haven’t been the easiest to gauge. In her conversation with Lance at the end of this episode, it seems like she had at least hoped she could make it work if not for herself, then for the people she cares about. But as the conversation continues, Lance finally begins to unveil his true intentions. Remember that list of names Connie and Kelly were given? It’s heavily implied that Lance, not just Sebastian, is responsible for manipulating numerous people “who couldn’t play by the rules” into trying to steal the money from the mansion. He’s not someone to look up to or someone who’s making the hard decisions for the greater good, he’s unapologetically sacrificing good people’s lives for power and greed. Carol “plays her part” to make Lance think she’s still a believer, and he tells her it’s good to talk to someone who gets it, but it’s possible Lance may just be playing her too. We know he’s up to something when he pulls out his walkie after Carol leaves. 

I’m hoping Carol will warn Daryl about Lance, but we’ll see. There’s still a crack in the foundation they’re trying to re-establish with each other again, and I think it’s only a matter of time before they reach their breaking point. One of them is going to verbalize their frustration that they aren’t in each other’s lives the way they should be, which of course is going to launch them into much deeper conversations about what they really want and how they really feel. Whether they happen all at once or gradually over the last block, eventually they will reach the verdict that they are the key to each other’s happiness and all of the excess around them, i.e. what the Commonwealth represents, can be left behind while the people they care about can be left in good hands.  

But before we can really start to drive Daryl and Carol to their happy place, apparently there’s another relationship that needs time in the spotlight. To be honest, I’m actually not as floored or put off by Negan’s and Annie’s romance as most people are. I noticed there was a little bit of a spark in “Warlords” that I didn’t want to comment on in case I was just perpetuating the gross overestimation of male and female interactions being romantically coded. But hey, what is TV if not one giant perpetuation of tropes. The marriage and pregnancy feel way too fast, absolutely, especially for a character who was shown to possibly have fertility issues back when he had his harem. I swear, the show should just stop including time cards and let us draw our own assumptions about where we are on the timeline. It would make things far less confusing in my opinion, but I digress. 

Contrived as it might be, Negan’s happiness ultimately gives him something to lose, and I have a strong feeling he will in fact lose it. Because taking away his growing family has the dual effect of making him more sympathetic to Maggie while also making Maggie more sympathetic to him. That’s not to say she’ll ever be ready to forgive Negan necessarily or call him her friend, but at the very least, she’ll be able to move forward – apparently all the way to New York – without feeling like he got off easy. I suppose on a certain level, it could also give her some satisfaction to watch him suffer the same way she did, but despite her recent vengefulness, I don’t believe Maggie could ever take comfort in knowing that a mother and child had to die in order for a murderer to get what he deserves. I also don’t believe she’d want her son to lead the same life she has, consumed by resentment, which may explain why she doesn’t tell him who Negan is. 

Of course Hershel is a smart cookie and figures that out himself. His interaction with Negan is something I’ve been anticipating for a while now, and for me, it accomplishes a lot. It’s the first time Negan acknowledges his culpability for killing Glenn, maybe because he feels a sense of duty to be open with kids. Angela Kang calls it a “fondness and sense of care,” which in recent seasons is certainly true, though as much as she wants me to, I can’t forget how easily he was going to kill Carl in the season 7 finale. But anyways, Negan��s transparency may or may not cost him the bond he formed with Lydia, who up until the confession, seems hurt that he decided to leave. After taking the gun away from Hershel, Lydia gives Negan a long look that’s a little difficult to decipher. It might be that she didn’t know the extent of Negan’s actions in the past and as someone who also had to grow up without a dad, now empathizes more with Maggie and Hershel. I prefer her bonds with Daryl and Carol, so my heart wouldn’t break over it. 

What’s more interesting is that Negan may also be digging his own grave by telling Hershel they can “settle it” in a few years after he’s grown up a little bit. This has to be foreshadowing another confrontation between them, whether by the end of the series or in the spinoff. I’m leaning towards the spinoff right now since I don’t think the series finale’s presumed time jump will exceed a year. It’s not confirmed he’ll be joining, but he did accompany Maggie on all her other endeavors, so it’s not a leap to think he will this time.  

I’m not sure how many Negan fans follow me, but I’d like to state for the record that I don’t hate him. In fact, I think he’s one of the most layered characters on the show. I just tend to analyze him through the lens of our protagonists like Maggie and everyone else who had been in the line up. However, I can still acknowledge his perspective on things which is why I find Annie’s conversation with Maggie so compelling. She reminds Maggie, and us, that no one is purely good or bad. They’ve all gotten their hands dirty, but they are still human and deserve a chance to try to “be better.” 

I’m not going to go into depth about the Toby situation except to say kudos to Aaron for shooting him off a building (and to Elijah for the assist). Cue Michael Scott singing “Goodbye Toby.” Again, his character isn’t important. What matters is that he helps reveal the Commonwealth’s corruption. After the whole ordeal, I think it’s safe to say neither Aaron nor Gabriel are going to be welcomed back with open arms. It seems like they may be used as leverage to try to invade Hilltop, but at least with Negan’s group, Maggie has an army to fight the Commonwealth off. And maybe another enemy because…

Leah is back. We knew she would be and I think a lot of people guessed she had been the one to steal the guns. What raised my suspicion was Maggie pointing out last episode that one of the soldier’s neck guards had been slashed through, reminding me of when Gabriel examined that walker in the subway and its “throat was slashed so deep, it nearly severed its head.” The show left it open-ended, but I always wondered if the Reapers had anything to do with that massacre, so maybe this confirms it. It’s still unclear what Leah intends to do with all those guns single-handedly. My guess is she’ll try to ambush the communities somehow. Yes, I am still holding out hope that she’ll meet Carol. I’m not giving up and you can’t make me. 

Lydia says at one point that the only difference between the whisperers and the Commonwealth is that they “wear different masks.” The running theme throughout this episode is those masks finally being lifted to reveal – wait for it – a rotten core. Everyone is disillusioned. Carol is undoubtedly starting to contemplate what to do about Lance, Mercer makes the bold move of executing Sebastian’s guards, Rosita is unnerved by April’s pointless death and according to the trailer, will aid Connie and Kelly in doing something about that list of names. Daryl doesn’t approve of what the Commonwealth is doing either, but it seems like he’s going to continue to toe the line until he can’t anymore. Like I said before, once he finally makes that decision, which could take place in the next episode when he goes to Hilltop, that’s when he’ll start turning his attention to what he really wants in life. 

The episode isn’t as strong as I would have hoped, and once again, reduces Carol to a minor role (ugh!!!). But I’m choosing to give the show the benefit of the doubt and acknowledge that it does move the needle in the sense that everyone is probably on the same page now that the Commonwealth is shady as fuck. Let’s see how it all comes to a head in the next episode and hope for more Caryl and Carol. Two more to go!!

11x09 “No Other Way” Review

11x10 “New Haunts” Review

11x11 “Rogue Element” Review

11x12 “The Lucky Ones” Review

11x13 “Warlords” Review

[saranghanuuu]

PERKS OF DATING A YOUNGER GUY I LEARNED AFTER WATCHING CHINESE DRAMA FIND YOURSELF + REVIEW!

1. He has less baggage

This means that he has more time to attend to your needs and wants unlike an older guy with a demanding schedule and lots of responsibilities at hand.

2. He's more open-minded and adventurous

They are open to having new experiences and won't judge you for veering off the path you should stay on.

3. He's infectiously energetic *ehem*

Need I say more? A younger guy's youthful sense will surely find unimaginable ways to impress you!

4. He puts you on a pedestal

A younger man will appreciate your maturity and experiences and will admire you for it. They're also most likely take advice from you without letting it bruise their ego.

5. He'll make you feel young

Be prepared to relive the fun parts of your younger years with him.

It's not so wrong to say that the May-December relationship is taboo, especially among Asians. Most people I know had this inkling that when a younger guy hooks up with a woman way older than him, it could prolly mean one of two things — the guy's a paramour or she's a sugar momma. I'm honestly not a fan of it either on the premise that women mature faster than men. Let's be real, an immature relationship is a disaster. But now that I'm in my late 20s, and a hopeless romantic single at that, I kinda pondered over this. It suddenly occurred to me, what if one day I’m caught up in the position of being pursued by a younger man? Will I let the stigma affect me emotionally? Or will I take the risk ‘coz all is fair in love? I still don’t have a definite answer to this question. However, watching Find Yourself served as an eye-opener for me to look at things from a different perspective.

Find Yourself is a 2020 Chinese drama starring Song Wei Long and Victoria Song. It tells the story of a 32-year old Executive Director who never *even once* experienced dating. Given her age and career stability, she receives constant pressure from the people around her to find someone to marry and has since frequented blind dates arranged by her family, friends, or colleagues. But this girl is just someone who swears by the "spark" - no spark, then no point to the relationship. She may be old for fantasizing over first love and such, but she still yearns that it'll naturally come to find her someday. Until her thirst for real romance is quenched by a 22-year-old guy who started working as an intern in her company at his brother’s request.

Although hesitant at first due to their huge age difference and the societal views, she went out with him on the condition that they'll keep it a secret for the first 3 months. If everything went well, she agrees to publicize her relationship with him.

Let’s start off with the good things...

I just can't with this drama...! This so beautiful, cute, relatable - especially for a woman in late 20s like me. 

Plot-wise, it was well-imparted and makes perfect sense, touching a looooooot of relationship aspects in 41 episodes. Not only did I enjoy the happenings between our main couple, but our side couples' stories are very interesting too.

This drama pretty much straightened out my prejudice about age-gap relationships.

Light-hearted, just the way I like it! Every episode will make you smile and/or laugh hard.

Sexual tensions overload and superb kissing scenes! Let those hormones rush in. Not awkward to watch 'coz They. Did. Not. Hold. Back. Ack! If you're single, be prepared to feel MORE SINGLE watching this drama.

Well-written lines that will make you feel real emotions. The words will shoot you straight to the heart.

Acting-wise, the casts, from the mains down to the sides, did a super fine job in conveying the sentiments of their characters. My highest admiration goes to male lead Yuan Song, not (only) because he’s young, hot, and handsome, but because his youthful vibe made me reminisce the paradox of my early 20s awww. Anyways, in the beginning, I am sort of confused why (of all girls) he fell head over heels with our female lead He Fanxing who's obviously out of his league. I even suspected him of taking advantage of her naivety in matters of the heart. But as the drama went along, our dude proved himself genuine... That he's sincerely just a guy who's deeply in love with a woman... That indeed, true love can exist in this kind of relationship. Both Yuan Song and Fanxing emotionally benefited from each other and it's so lovely seeing that.

⚠️ AND SORRY BUT THIS IS A SPOILER ALERT⚠️

Halfway through the drama, our main couple called it quits. I'm somewhat grateful that it happened. Their break-up scene is just so powerful I had to rewind it many times. Not because I liked seeing them suffer from the consequences of their incompatibility. Rather, I loved it 'coz it became the turning point of their relationship.

Their love is premature, to begin with — trust isn't mutual, commitment is one-way, only showing each other's good sides in fear of the relationship turning sour, one is willing to compromise while the other wants to avoid responsibility, filled with doubts and insecurities. During this break-up phase, we were shown the difference between how kids and adults behave and decide in a dilemma. I suddenly remembered this one line delivered in the drama which I agree with — "Only kids would choose one or the other. Adults find solutions". The break-up also served as our main couple's period of contemplation about who and what they want in life. It taught them how to fully embrace their offbeat romance against the norms. Fortunately, things wrapped up into a sweet end.

And of course the bad...

Hmmm... Maybe I'm just not used to it but am I the only one who thinks that this drama is quite lengthy? Yes, I enjoyed it but it's not a good one to binge-watch. It took me almost a month to finish this I nearly drowned haha. Honestly, there were parts they could've just compressed instead of dragging it for too long. One example is Ye Luming and He Fanxing's relationship trial. Ooohhh I hate this part it brought shivers down my spine ugh. Well truth be told, Luming and Fanxing are compatible and better off as friends. They jive so well, and I give it to them that they're both adults who can only understand adult things.

But when Luming all of a sudden became a sneaky character to an intolerable point... Ah, I don't know anymore! Seeing how compelled Fanxing is to being Luming's girlfriend got under my skin. Although these ugly parts eventually became a good contributory factor to Fanxing's realization of her true feelings towards Yuan Song, but still...! I also hated Fanxing at one point for being so gullible in love. But yeah, I had to swallow it because that's her character setup in the first place. It should be expected of her to be hasty and dubious about it.

On the other hand, I wished they've been generous in showing us more about how Yuan Song and Fanxing's relationship is going after the public reveal. I've been waiting for this the entire time (they could've done so much more in 41 episodes' length!) so I'm quite disappointed.

After watching the second season of Well-Intended Love, I admit I lost interest in Chinese dramas. So watching this restored my faith in them. I even have a list of C-dramas lined up now! But I have to move on from this one first before I start another. It's not as easy as I thought ㅠㅠ

What do you think about this drama? Are we on the same frequency? ❤️

If you haven't watched this yet, watch it now. As in 지금부터 RIGHT NOW. Highly-recommended!

[bbrandy2002]

Happy Birthday Jessica!

Title: Twinsane

A/N: Jessie, You already know Burns and I are big fans of your characters and stories, in particular your Leo and Drake. The three of us made our big writing debuts at the same time in the Summer of 2019 and became fast friends that have continued through every high and low we’ve each experienced in our lives. You’ve always been a great and supportive friend with a big heart and a bit of a funny bone. We both hope you have an amazing birthday and we wish you all the best in the coming year.

This story takes place in a universe created by @jessiembruno​.

Palace -- Throne Room

Liam paced the ancient throne room, site of their infant daughter’s upcoming anointing and baptism. Everything seemed to be in place; Regina had made sure of it despite the cast on her arm from her latest sex injury. 

Still, he worried. 

Not because of terrorist threats, not because of Lilyana possibly blowing out her diaper and ruining a $2,000 christening gown. No, he had two concerns: 

His brother and his brother-in-law. 

His wife tried to console him about it, but every time she did, the new father threw his hands up in the air and said, “I don’t want to talk about that stupid pendejo. I just can’t with him --” and the fights they had afterward weren’t worth it.

Leo had passed two kidney stones on the day Lilyana was born. Liam felt bad for him; he really did. Everything he’d heard about passing kidney stones was that it was a truly painful ordeal. 

But Leo, as always, had taken things too far. 

First of all, he’d named them: Rocky and Peter. He referred to them as “the twins,” and everywhere he went, that goddamn jar went with him. It was embarrassing to be somewhere with him in public and then to hear the telltale rattling as he adjusted change in his pocket. 

That was nothing, though, compared to when he’d bought “the twins” a Silver Cross Balmoral pram at the eye-popping price tag of seven grand. It was both nicer and more expensive than Jessica and Liam’s $2,700 Bugaboo by Diesel stroller; Liam had thrown a fit. And not just because Leo had charged them both to Liam’s credit card. 

“We are carting around a royal baby! You spent seven thousand dollars on a grocery cart for your goddamn kidney stones?” 

Leo, puffing out his chest, had merely clutched the jar of medical waste to his heart. “My children are royal adjacent, thank you very much.”  

At least Drake understood that the elder Rys brother was off his rocker, but since Drake flew all the way off the handle every time the subject was mentioned, Liam tried to avoid the inevitable blowups. Just last week, there had been an … incident at a formal dinner.

“Drake, will you watch the boys while I take a piss?” Leo had extended the jar toward the surly dark-haired man. 

“Get those fucken things away from me, Leo! Those were in your fucken dick! What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

Liam had tried to calm Drake down -- Princess Lesedi looked absolutely horrified at the outburst -- but as usual, Leo just made things worse. 

Huffing loudly, he proclaimed, “Lilyana was in Jessica’s bacon hole, and I don’t hear you complaining about that, Drake. You hold her all the time, but you never take the twins when I ask! I am through with this open favoritism!”

Only Alyssa, quietly intervening and taking the jar, had prevented a full-on brawl from breaking out. But since she started to cry when Drake refused to hold her hand afterward even following a thorough handwashing, the crisis hadn’t really been averted in the end. 

Thinking of Drake only led Liam to ruminate on Mateo, his brother-in-law. Nearly a year before, when the four friends had attended a Yankees game with Jessica’s brothers, Mateo had made a sloppy pass at Alyssa without knowing she was in a relationship. 

Well, to be more precise, he’d actually talked about Alyssa in front of her face, not realizing she spoke Spanish, and told his brother “Alyssa can sit on my face.” 

The only thing that had saved the weekend from devolving into complete anarchy was that Drake didn’t know enough Spanish to translate. But someone -- probably shit-starting Leo -- had explained Mateo’s words to Drake, and now Alyssa’s new husband was out for blood. 

If any of them ruin my little princess’ day, Liam swore to himself, I will murder them. I’m king. I can pardon myself. 

------------

Palace -- Ballroom

Lilyana was properly anointed and baptized. At the head table, overlooking the large gathering as he cradled his daughter in his arms, Liam looked over the party with a sigh of relief and scooped up another forkful of chicken tagine. Everything had gone off without a hitch, and now they just needed to feed all these people, hand the princess off to Regina or one of her doting aunts or uncles, and he could spirit his wife away to take his “royal scepter” anywhere she wanted it. 

His eyes tracked to Leo, who was in rapt conversation with Penelope across the room. When Leo pulled the jar out of his pocket, Liam threw back his entire scotch in disgust. 

Jessica, resplendent in a new Ana de Luca original, came back to the table. “God, these fucken people are intolerable, Liam. How much longer --” Her words were cut off when Liam wrapped his hand around her wrist. 

“My love, give our daughter to her grandmother. Te necesito. Ahora,” he added, eyes locked on hers. (I need you. Now.)

She took the baby from his arms and brought Lilyana to Alyssa. “The princess needs some time with her Auntie Lyss.” 

Alyssa smirked as she kissed the infant’s sweet-smelling head. “And the queen needs to get her back blown out?” 

Jessica tossed her hair. “Fuck yeah.” 

Alyssa high-fived her before she walked away. 

------------

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

“You’re so gorgeous, love,” Liam grunted, gripping a fistful of Jessica’s hair and tugging her head back, exposing her throat to his lips and teeth. 

She shuddered at the feeling, reaching for his thick length. “We don’t have a lot of time …” 

“We have as much time as it takes.” He unzipped the dress and slid it down her body, admiring the curves that had only become lusher with motherhood. Lowering her to the bed, Liam’s lips moved over Jessica’s breasts and stomach. He toyed with the waistband of her underwear. 

“Liam, please --”

The panties dropped to the ground, and her plea melted into a throaty groan at the first swipe of his tongue. “Fuuuuuuuuck.” 

“Yes, love,” he said against her, working her with his hands and mouth. “Dámelo.” (Give it to me.)

She was still shaking with her release when Liam crawled over her, his rigid cock probing between her thighs. “Now, muñeca.” 

Something crashed against the door. 

------------

Palace -- Ballroom 

To his delight, Leo had reunited with Miss Willoughby, his fourth-grade teacher. Though she was no longer as perky as he remembered and had grown an unfortunate goiter, she listened attentively to Leo’s stories about his children. 

She had had a lot of champagne. 

“Do you have a picture?” she asked at last, after Leo had regaled her with the tale of taking Peter and Rocky grocery shopping for the first time. 

“Even better than that.” Leo proudly reached into his jacket pocket. “Boys, I’d like you to meet Miss Willoughby.” 

The teacher shrank back with concern. “Leo … what -- what is that?” 

“They are Rocky and Peter.” He pointed to each stone as he introduced them. “Their birth was excruciating, but it was worth every moment of pain.” 

Miss Willoughby rubbed her misshapen throat lump. “Are those --” 

He heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Technically they are kidney stones. But the word ‘kid’ is right in there! Love makes a family, Miss Willoughby. Not your status as ‘human.’” He punctuated the last word with finger quotes of disgust.

------------

On the other side of the room, Drake’s gaze narrowed on a familiar face. “Devereaux!” he hissed. 

Alyssa looked up from where she had been singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” to Lilyana. “What?” 

“Is that Jess’ fucken brother?” 

She bit her lip. It was Mateo, but no way was she letting Drake get involved in a brawl at the princess’ anointing, for Christ’s sake. “I don’t remember.” 

“What do you mean, you ‘don’t remember’?” 

Waving a breezy hand, Alyssa hastily tried to defuse the situation. “Oh, I was drinking a lot that day.” 

“A lot for you. Not for your average 15-year-old,” he snickered, agreeing. 

To Alyssa’s relief, the man had slipped out of sight. “Well, be that as it may, you should let that Mateo thing go. Everything’s cool.” 

He scowled. “It is not. I know he’s here today! I’m going to find him and kick the shit out of him.” 

-----------

“You should call me Roberta.” 

Leo raised his eyebrows. “Miss Willoughby -- Roberta. I would be delighted to.” 

She set down her flute. “You certainly grew up handsome …” 

Smoothing his blond locks back into place, Leo gave her a rakish grin. “Why, Roberta. How forward of you.” 

“Is there somewhere we can get away?” She reached out and gripped his ass with surprising strength. 

“I guess that depends on how much you’ve had to drink.” 

“The perfect amount.” Her hand slid around to the front, grappling with the front of his pants. 

“Whoooooooa. Well, in that case, yes. We can get away.” 

------------

Alyssa handed Lilyana to Drake in another attempt at distraction, nervous about the way he was pacing the room. “Uh, I have to use the bathroom. Can you take the baby?”

He was already cooing at Lilyana, assuaging Alyssa’s nerves until she made out the words. “And Uncle Drake’s gonna beat the fuck out of your Uncle Mateo ... yes, he is! Yes, he is!”

“Drake!” she gritted. 

“Because nofuckingone talks about your Auntie Lyssa like that; no, they do not!” he continued in a singsong voice, ignoring Alyssa completely. 

She rolled her eyes and headed out of the ballroom, content that he at least wouldn’t start any physical fights with a baby in his arms. 

------------

Palace -- Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Jessica sat up with a start, unfortunately bending Liam’s manhood at an awkward angle. He screamed. 

“Who the fuck is at the door?” Her shrewd eyes, trained to find danger, scanned the room. She threw Liam’s jacket on -- their size difference meant it fit her like a gigantic robe -- and grabbed her taser. 

“Love, wait!” Liam struggled up from the bed, wincing at the pain in his dick. 

“Goddammit, Leo!” Jessica screeched upon throwing the door open. 

Her brother-in-law’s bare ass, driving rhythmically toward a faceless someone who was pressed against the opposite wall, greeted her. 

“Jess! Fuck!” Leo slowed. “Sorry, Roberta, hang on.” Continuing to hold her against him as a shield, he craned his head around to look at her. “I’m a little busy right now. What?” 

She slammed the door closed. “Liam, get dressed.” 

“What the fuck is going on?” The king complied, his good mood completely dissipated. 

“Your fucken brother is banging someone outside our door. I’m pretty sure his ass is the crashing sound we heard. His naked ass touched the door. I’m having maintenance replace it tomorrow!” 

------------

Palace -- Hallway Outside Liam and Jessica’s Quarters

Leo struggled back into his pants, grateful that his partner had kept her dress on. “Miss W -- Roberta, I’m really sorry, but we’re going to have to cut this short. Er, not that anything about me is short, obviously. But I’m pretty sure my brother’s about to come out here --” 

The door flew open. “LEO, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Liam raged. 

“Run!” Leo grabbed Roberta’s hand and took off running down the corridor, jacket in his other hand. 

------------

Palace -- Ballroom 

Alyssa hadn’t come back, but the more Drake stared at the man he had noticed earlier, the more he was convinced it was Mateo Garcia. 

That fucker. 

Lilyana had fallen asleep against his chest. He wasn’t going to disturb her or put her in danger, but … 

Drake looked at the abandoned plates of cake on their table. Steadying the baby with his left arm, he picked up a handful of cake and squeezed it experimentally in his fist. Maybe he hadn’t played ball with Liam and Maxwell in a few years, but he still had a decent arm. 

He rose, stalking closer to his target but staying close to the exit for a quick getaway. 

Drake raised his arm and fired. 

The handful of cake exploded against the man’s face. Spluttering, Mateo whipped his head around and roared, “What the fuck was that?” 

Drake and Lilyana slipped out the nearest door, almost colliding with a sweaty Leo, panic in his eyes. 

Leo grabbed Drake’s shoulders, careful to avoid Lilyana’s head. “Drake! We have a crisis on our hands!” 

He listened to Leo with only half his attention; his other ear focused uneasily on the new commotion of screaming and -- was that breaking glass? -- inside the ballroom. 

“So I need you to come on the search mission with me,” Leo finished. 

Drake shook his head to clear it, registering an older woman with a prominent goiter slinking back into the ballroom. “The fuck are you talking about? Did you just finish having sex with that woman?” He jerked a thumb toward Roberta.

The blond man scowled. “I didn’t get to finish, and neither did she, thanks to Jess and Liam’s drama.” 

“But the --” Drake gestured to his neck. 

Leo waved it off. “I hit it from behind. No distracting visuals that way.” 

“You, dickhead!” Drake grimaced. “Thanks for the mental image.” 

“My pleasure. Now, we need to go. Find someone to take the baby. I need you completely focused.” 

“On what? Where the fuck are we going?” 

“Have you not been listening to me? Jesus, Drake! I need you to help me find the twins!” Leo raked his hand through his hair, making it stand on end as his blue eyes burned with obsessive fire. “I took my jacket off when I was nailing Miss Willoughby -- er, Roberta -- and the jar must have fallen out. My children are missing, Drake!” 

Drake nestled Lilyana against his chest and covered one of her ears. “You -- you have lost the fucken plot, Leo. I am not searching for your -- your -- dick rocks!” 

“You were there at their birth, Drake. It hurts me that you take no interest in your godstones.” 

“Stop calling them my ‘godstones’! That is not even a goddamn word --” Drake broke off his rant as Alyssa appeared in the hallway, covered in red. “Jesus Christ! Baby!” He thrust Lilyana into Leo’s waiting arms; the baby woke up and began to cry. “What happened?” 

“Huh? You made the baby cry!” Alyssa went to take Lilyana, but Drake grabbed her.

“Look at you, Devereaux! Where are you bleeding from?” Frantic, he tugged the neckline of her dress aside, exposing her bra. She slapped his hand away. 

“Stop! I’m not bleeding!” 

“But --” He gestured to the bright stain marring her light blue dress. 

She looked down. “Oh, that. Someone dumped gazpacho on me when I was walking through the ballroom.” 

“What?” 

Alyssa pointed. “It’s anarchy in there; didn’t you notice?” 

The men peered into the room. Roughly 40 people, most screaming, flung food at each other, ducking to avoid flying lunch items and using plates and -- in several concerning cases -- overturned tables as shields. 

“What happened?” Leo looked concerned. 

Alyssa noted the guilty look on Drake’s face as she rocked and tried to shush Lilyana. “I think this baby needs to eat. Have you seen Liam or Jess?” 

The question seemed to snap Leo back to reality. “You should look for them, Lyss. Head them off --”

“What do you mean ‘head them off’?” 

But Leo continued, “And in the meantime, Drake and I need to find the twins!” He grabbed a loudly-protesting Drake by the arm and dragged him down the hall. 

A moment after they turned the corner, Alyssa, still rocking the baby, was startled by her voice from behind her. She turned her head to see Liam and Jessica stalking rapidly toward her. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back!” 

Jessica took Lilyana, cuddling her. “Let’s go eat.” Stepping into the ballroom, she shrieked, “What the fuck?” 

------------

“I need you to help me file a missing persons report,” Leo said 15 minutes later, after they had repeatedly combed the hallways looking for the jar of kidney stones. “My children are in danger!” 

“Stop calling them your fucken children!” 

Leo pressed his lips together with frustration. “I went through two hours of labor and five minutes of pushing, all for your GODSTONES! The least you can do is help report the twins’ disappearance and bring them back to their Papi Chulo.” 

He was saved from Drake’s wrathful retort by a notification on Drake’s phone. “Oh, no you don’t,” Drake muttered, typing furiously on his keyboard. 

“What are you doing?” Leo huffed impatiently. 

“Someone outbid me for this lure I really want.” Drake finished typing and sucked in a breath. “Ohhhhh shit.” 

“What now?” 

Raking a hand through his hair, Drake extended his phone toward Leo. “Uhhhhh, I think you better look at this.” 

“HOberta69? Drake, don’t buy anything from a seller with that name -- holy shit!” he exclaimed as he looked closer. 

He clicked the link; the phone screen filled with his own image. “Yeah,” video Leo said, “it hurt like a son of a bitch when I pushed these li’l fellers out, but that’s parenthood!” He held up the jar and shook it. “The rascals.” 

Drake covered his face with his palm. “You are so fucken embarrassing.” 

“This fucken kidnapper! I give her the best two-pump-chumpin’ she’s ever had and this is how the old bag repays me? Oh, the fucken humanity! I will hunt her down! I will throw her in the dungeons! I will --”

“She’s basically holding them for ransom,” Drake said reasonably. “Maybe if you message her …” 

But Leo had already clicked the “buy it now” option. “Thank God I still have Liam’s credit card saved to my account.” 

Drake’s eyes widened. “You paid for the dick rocks? With Liam’s credit card? You know he’s gonna fucken kill you?” 

“Calm your tits, Drake.” Leo heaved a heavy sigh. “You and Alyssa haven’t created a family yet. The first lesson you’re gonna learn when the time comes, though, is that parenthood is full of bullshit sacrifice … and Liam is the lucky guy who gets to make that sacrifice.” 

[k7l4d4]

Owl House AU Ideas, fresh out of Spacebattles!

This here is a collection of ideas that I originally posted over on spacebattles, and sadly ended up not doing anything with. Let me know what you all think of them!

Idea THE FIRST!: Lost In a New World. The premise is that Belos does something that ends up destroying the Isles, with only a small portion of the residents making it off of the Isles to the Human World for safety, via Eda's Portal. The survivors are divided into those who lost faith in Belos or never had it to begin with, and those still loyal to him, with each side headed by Eda and Lilith respectively. To clarify, this all is supposed to take place BEFORE Canon. The destruction of the Isles results in shock-waves through the Human World in the form of tremors, with the resulting Chaos being enough for Camila to convince Principal Hal (I think I got the name right) to allow Luz to attend Summer Classes and a Therapist as opposed to Camp Reality Check, or expulsion. As a side-effect of the Isles' destruction, Magic has been released into the Human Realm, and is now gradually reproducing itself, though the effects aren't too noticeable by anyone right away. To gain info on how to best blend in with the humans, the two factions elect to send one of their own to a Human School in order to gather intel. The choice? Amity. (Gus through his hat into the running but was rejected when it became clear that he couldn't curb his enthusiasm)

Hmmm... I like some of this, and will clarify some points I deliberately withheld in my original posting to see what kind of response I would get. As for shelter and food, let's just say the destruction of the Isles wouldn't exactly be what could be considered CLEAN. Lots of random structures, plants, and animals fell into the Human Realm along with Magic, though not exactly in one piece. They were essentially consumed in a wave of magic, damaged as a result of it, transported to the Human Realm IN MIDAIR, and fell to the ground, with the left over magic from the transfer cushioning them enough for any damage to be negligible, if still highly unpleasant for those mentioned animals and plants. The residual magic basically sent the transported plants into a shock of growth, causing them to instantly put down roots, regardless of their orientation to the ground at the time. The structures... their state upon landing varied based upon the materials used to construct them, what state they were in when transported, and where they actually ended up landing. At least one Witch house ended up in a tree in the Amazon Rain Forest. Most shelter for them consists of whatever structures made it through near their arrival point, along with cooperation between what Construction and Plant Coven trained witches made it across, with Illusionists working together to keep suspicious folks away (for the sake of convenience, let's just say that some of each and every coven and a few outright Wild Witches made it off the Isles), and food is usually gathered through a combination of Plant and Beast Keeping witches, though they are currently trying to ration what they already have and have managed to gather. Initial long-term plans mostly consist of ensuring they can gather the resources they need to survive, and finding out as much about the Human Realm as they can to avoid possible conflict, with most contingencies being under-developed as a result of infighting, with the only concrete plan being to figure out how to construct a new portal and retreating somewhere else, or standing and fighting in the hopes of driving off whatever enemies come their way and carving out a settlement just for them. Suffice to say, they don't have a lot of options on the table that they all agree on. They didn't bring a whole lot of material, with most of the Witches who made it off prioritizing food and essential supplies, but some of the Construction and Beast Keeper Witches managed to wrangle the tools of their respective trades, and some Potion Witches managed to bring over their supplies and potions, as well as the tools to make more. Beyond the initial destruction of Belos' Castle, which was the first to go for plot convenience, the destruction of the Isles lasted approximately a week, starting with just the typical disasters of the Isles occurring slightly more than usual, and escalating to entire chunks of the Isles dropping into the sea, with some of the chunks being landlocked. No one really realized anything was wrong until about halfway through, and it wasn't until the last two days of the destruction that anyone who hadn't already managed to see the that "No, the Emperor isn't coming back and saving us from this mess" was willing to admit that they were basically doomed and decided to convince Eda who, as the only person on the Isles with a consistent source of Human Realm goods, was quickly deduced as having a way to there for help getting off the Isles, with Eda herself figuring out the oncoming destruction almost immediately, and basically spent the entire time selling as many non-essential goods as she could while transporting everything else to Earth and waiting for people to come groveling to her for help. For intelligence gathering... I am sorry if this comes across as rude, but you do realize that very FEW witches actually have a strong enough resemblance to Humans to serve as suitable for Intelligence Work, with a lot of witches having unusual traits even discounting the pointed ears, with one Witchling in particular having an Eyeball for a HEAD. That also applies to those that could mix with the Underworld, they still have very attention grabbing appearances. Also, Witches of the Boiling Isles, Eda included, are so out of touch and ignorant of Humanity as a whole that Amity is basically the only acceptable choice at the moment, as she has a sufficiently human-like appearance to pass muster, being an excellent student who can record a lot of potentially useful information, and having an unflappable demeanor to keep any and all surprise in regards to Human behavior and culture from leaking through and potentially giving away that she isn't what she seems. Seriously, the only things that managed to make her lose her cool in Canon were when she thought (correctly) that Willow was cheating, which she cannot stand, the end of the Covention Duel, where she was publicly humiliated, and Luz, after she developed her MASSIVELY OBVIOUS CRUSH! Even when she is very clearly furious, Amity can keep a civil, level demeanor up until the very end. The only Witch that would be a reasonable option is Willow, and she is supposed to be busy helping out with the Plant Witches in gathering food and assembling shelter, massively boosting her prestige with the other Survivors. I suppose Willow could be sent in as backup for Amity, as well as to serve as an additional source of info, but any other Witches would have to hang back until they gain enough info to pass as Humans. The reason I decided on having a Witchling to act as the informant was because, even if they have any kind of odd behavior that would attract attention, eccentricity is much more tolerated among children than adults, even in an intolerant town or community, or at least that is how I understand it, as adults who don't fit whatever accepted mold is going on usually having nothing to fall back on, whereas kids usually have it treated as a phase, even when it is very clearly not or when it is treated harshly by others. As for easy money, the Witches still need to have a basis of understanding for Human Culture before they can start with that, though I agree that it is going to happen eventually. Any and all Lumity isn't going to happen until way later, and will NOT be the focus beyond being a convenient justification for gags based on Amity's behavior around Luz.

Idea THE SECOND!: Gargoyles. The premise is that their exists a subset of witches with abilities beyond the usual; they are, you guessed it, Gargoyles! Gargoyles are identical to other witches, aside from small, nearly unnoticeable horns at their hairline, and vestigial glider-style wings affixed to their upper arms and back. Gargoyles are naturally stronger, faster, and surprisingly lighter than other witches, and have a natural connection with Wild Magic that can flare up at any time. Gargoyles need to be constantly hydrating, or they will freeze up like a statue, with a solid indicator as to whether or not a Gargoyle is about to freeze is when their skin takes a noticeably gray-ish tone and gains a rock-like texture; the freeze will reverse when they are exposed to a significant enough source of water, at least enough to drench them entirely. Gargoyles occasionally enter a state known as "The Rage," in which they expand in size and enter a berserker style frenzy, usually occurring in moments of extreme stress and panic/anger. Gargoyles are treated as second-class citizens at best, ostracized and hunted at worst, with Gargoylism being undetectable until puberty starts. Amity is a Gargoyle in this AU, and the heavily implied emotional abuse she suffers in canon shifts to physical when it becomes apparent she is a Gargoyle, with regular threats made of what will happen to her if word of her status gets out. Lilith is also a Gargoyle, with only Belos and Eda being aware of her condition.

Priestess!: Premise, Camila, pregnant with Luz, ends up on the Boiling Isles, and, after scrounging to survive, during which she gained a friendly acquaintance relationship with Eda, ends up in the not so tender mercies of the Emperor's Coven. It also just so happens that Luz is a natural born Priestess of the Titan, who is NOT happy with the way Belos is running things. In order to keep things under wraps, Belos takes in the two, raising Luz in extreme isolation, while Camila is basically kept under house arrest. Luz has no idea that she is human she has been so deeply isolated from others, and is genuinely confused by her inability to perform magic. Lilith and Camila strike up a friendship, during which Camila slowly breaks down Lilith's delusions over the nature of what she has done and the relationship she has with her sister, who she does not know is Eda, and bonding over their mutual fondness and exhaustion over the ever excitable Luz. Belos is operating under the belief that if he can keep Luz pacified, the Titan will grant him back its favor, not knowing that his insistence one retaining his policies and methods as they are are what gained its ire, and is basically running down the clock on a time bomb. Camila has grown to accept her stay on the Isles, and even enjoys it from time to time, you know, aside from the whole "held against her will in an ominous castle" thing she has to deal with, but desperately wants to return to Earth with Luz. The storyline kicks off in full when Luz accidentally wonders out of the castle and makes her way through Bonesburough, and meets the Eda in the market. Luz has a direct bond with Magic at the spiritual level, not just the magic of witches and the Wild Magic her Canon self wielded, but all magic, making her incredibly powerful when she finally comes into her own, and her connection with the Titan allows her prophetic impulses, insight into any potential danger that may befall her and the nature of those around her and the magic they wield. Don't worry about her being a Mary Sue, her magical abilities, aside from her mental based ones like her danger sense, are horrifyingly unreliable; they either don't work when she needs them to, or she just flat out can't control them in any sense when they are cast. Also, due to being so sheltered, Luz has even less of a survival instinct them in Canon, resulting in her walking into what could be easily considered a literal death sentence without any form of hesitation. Her isolated early childhood has resulted in an unreliable world view, as she has an unsettling mix of teenage hormones, emotions, and impulses, with all the care, control, and understanding of a five year old on a sugar high. Still sweet as a button, but her naivety often frightens those around her, as she is perfectly willing to inflict fatal injuries on another person, simply because she was never taught why she shouldn't; to clarify, if she has fatally injured someone, she WILL be upset if they die, even if they were a massive jerk who tried to kill her first, she merely doesn't understand how her actions could have resulted in their death. When Eda pegs on to just how messed up this version of Luz can be, mentally speaking, she genuinely worries about Luz trying to rape someone the first time she experiences sexual attraction to someone, as Luz confirmed to her that she knows what sex is, but has no understanding of consent in any sense of the word. This is not meant to be a lighthearted prompt, in any way. Though I guess anyone interested could change it into something less... scream/cringe inducing.

Where Were You?!: This is a twist on the classic role swap. It basically hinges on my Head-Canon that Luz once visited the Boiling Isles as a child (Seriously, she, on her first try, created what was apparently a perfect taxidermy replica of a Boiling Isles style Griffon, and only received confirmation she was right when she actually visited the Isles. That is far too much of a coincidence for me). In this premise, Luz and Amity both end up stumbling into portals leading to the Demon and Human Realms respectively, and both are INCREDIBLY YOUNG when this happens, like around 4 or 5 each. Luz, lost and alone in the incredibly dangerous woodlands of the Isles is taken in by LILITH! Note: This Lilith is a member of the Emperor's Coven, and has not switched places as a Wild Witch with her sister, but, due to certain circumstances, loses her trust and faith in the Emperor and in the Coven system, only staying out of a self-admitted misplaced sense of guilt and obligation. After heading into the Woods to vent her frustrations about life, the Emperor, and her choices, she stumbles across Luz after she had been attacked by the wildlife. It... it wasn't pretty. Overcome with horror over what had happened to a literal child, and probably projecting her grief over her ruined relationship with Eda onto the event, Lilith rushes to save her, but, due to the sheer extent of Luz's injuries and how much is... missing, she is forced to improvise, using a series of forbidden spells and some stolen body parts, along with her own blood, to literally put Luz back together. The trauma is so intense, Luz loses all her memories, including her name, and is subsequently adopted and renamed Lucelyn by Lilith. Amity, upon arriving in the Human Realm, is scared, confused, and hopelessly lost. She essentially wanders around the woods Luz Canonically chased Owlbert through in the first episode, avoiding predators only due to her underdeveloped magic and sheer luck. After days of no food, poor shelter, and limited water, which she only got due to a scare about the rain, Amity FINALLY stumbles her way out to civilization, ecstatic to be free of the woods, hopeful to find her family... and gets hit by a car. She lives, obviously, but her being taken into the hospital following the hit leads to some... awkward discoveries. Like with Luz, the trauma she experienced messed with her memories, but she does retain some. She has fond, if unclear, memories of Willow, and a deeply disturbing to witness panic to the words "Mother, Father, Mom, Dad, Family, etc." The revelations on her anatomy, and how it differs from humans, is something that results in her being called into the hospital for observation and study for years to come, or at least up until Canon time. Due to the potential fallout of the discovery of both her anatomy and DNA getting out, all of Amity's hospital records are highly classified, and officially listed as benign but irreversible/irremovable birth defects, and she is required to take a supplemental drinks to help replenish her bile. After the initial panic over the fact that no, humans are not the only sapient species on earth, is over, Amity is given to a mildly despondent Camila to care for. She doesn't properly remember her original name, and answers to Amy. Lilith raised Luz to the best of her ability... which isn't saying much. While Lilith genuinely loves and cares for Luz, she has no idea how to raise a child, and the accident and subsequent "healing" she received as a youngster really screwed her up. She can perform magic, due to the witch parts fused into her along with Lilith's blood and genetic information, but her control is so deeply connected to her emotion that, if she were to lose her temper, any spell she cast would instantly shift targets to the source of her current ire. The only way she can actually control her spells is to use glyphs, the use of which Lilith encourages in her newfound contempt for the Emperor, and training wands. Due to Lilith's poor child rearing skills, Luz isn't exactly well adjusted, often switching between cool yet kind, to polite but hostile, with her wishy-washy personality often being the source of teasing among her friends, though she is still the same sweet, excitable girl she is in canon, as demonstrated by her taking over Amity's Canon duty of reading to the kids. Amity inherited Luz's canonical trouble with making friends, with most people finding her appearance, particularly those aspects which give away her heritage, frightening. Amity is a sweetheart, but timid and severely lacking in confidence. After rediscovering her magic shortly after moving in with Camila, who loves Amity like she truly was her daughter in spite of her emotional hurt over Luz's disappearance, Amity made it a point to study and discover as much about magic as she possibly could, relentlessly researching any and magical knowledge the Human Realm has, with many of the ancient traditions of humans themselves translating into workable spells and magic practices. Amity is a huge nerd, but also one of the best jocks in her school, which helps counterbalance her otherwise less than stellar reputation as a klutz and a slacker. She isn't actually a slacker, but her obsessive magic research has given her a mild case of chronic insomnia, resulting in her randomly falling asleep at the strangest of times and places, including in class. Amity liberally takes inspiration for her magic from a variety of sources, including blatant ripoffs from anime, though she usually saves those for special occasions, with a lot of her spells falling under the umbrella of "Awesome but Impractical."

Willow is very different as opposed to Canon. After Amity's disappearance, and subsequent funeral after her parents gave her up as dead, Willow felt the need to toughen up. She never once believed that Amity had died, and wished to grow stronger to ensure she would be able to keep her safe when (and Willow knew it was a matter of when, not if) Amity managed to return. This training culminated in the second-year anniversary of Amity's funeral, where she met Boscha. Boscha, being, well, Boscha, didn't make the best impression on Willow, not that it mattered later. A tremor ripped through the area, opening up a deep crevasse beneath Boscha, nearly sending her plummeting to her doom, only to be saved by Willow in an impressive, not to mention frightening, display of Plant Magic. The incident led to Willow being hailed as a hero, and a local celebrity, but Willow quickly pegged on to how people, particularly those with known agendas, were cozying up to her in the hopes of gaining favor with the new local darling. To protect herself, Willow grew cold and distant, maintaining a professional distance from everyone at all times. She was eventually approached by Luz, and grew fond of her when it became clear Luz didn't give a hoot about her status or power. Boscha never fully recovered from the shock of her brush with death. The fall left her sullen and riddled with self-doubt, destroying her faith in her skills, along with resulting in her developing a fascination with Willow, going out of her way to confront her, only to be brushed aside like dirt on the road every time, which really didn't help her low self-esteem. Her self doubt translated itself to all aspects of her life, leaving her near totally isolated and struggling academically, with the only person willing to really interact with her being Skara. Her only outlet is her Grudgby skills, which allow her to vent her frustration and gain something resembling respect. Gus is much more mischievous than in Canon, as well as even more insecure. After his status as a mild prodigy became apparent, resulting in him skipping a few grades, Luz quickly took an interest in Gus, and subsequently took him under her wing, acting as a shield to those who would bully or dismiss him due to his age. While this has made him more comfortable in his skills, it has also resulted in a mild form of hero-worship in regards to Luz, constantly fearing that if he can't measure up to her expectations (she has none) that she will abandon him to fend for himself. Due to this self-doubt, Gus is envious of Willow's power, as it means, in his mind, that her position with Luz is secure, though Willow herself is indifferent to his feelings on the subject; they are both more Luz's friends than they are each other's friends. Due to Luz protecting him from bullies, Gus is far more willing to use his magic to goof off, even more so than how he uses his clones to skip class. Skara is a peppy cheerleader type girl, so kind that she genuinely struggles with saying a mean word to, well, anyone! As a result of never having to go along with Boscha's bullying, as it often seemed to me like her Canon self was just doing it because it was expected of her, she is highly empathetic, acting as willing listener to other's problems, and a comforting shoulder to cry on. She is fascinated by music and art in any form, and eagerly shakes Amity down for everything she has to offer. Because she associates with someone so far down the social ladder compared to Canon, Skara isn't nearly as popular, but her kindness means she is highly regarded by pretty much everyone, even Willow smiles when talking to her. Lilith is a persistent worrywart in regards to Luz, calling her at all hours of the day to make sure she is okay. She is cognizant of the fact that she didn't do a good job raising Luz, and has constructed a thousand and one practice apology letters in case she ever meets Luz's biological family. Due to her newfound contempt for the Emperor, she makes no real effort to apprehend Eda, and makes it a point to be as amicable as possible when talking with her. The only real point of contention between them on her own end is that Lilith frequently criticizes Eda for not using her status as the greatest Wild Witch to gather followers and build a power base for herself, often punctuated by her ominously rubbing her hands together, which Eda finds unsettling in the extreme, though Lilith will often backtrack and (poorly) change the subject whenever anyone calls her out on her blatantly treasonous thoughts, including Eda. Lilith has developed a habit of muttering schemes to dethrone the Emperor when she thinks other people aren't listening, and cackling maniacally, which often causes people to stare and ask if she's okay. While aware that she did a poor job rearing her, Lilith is insanely proud of Luz, willing to pull out a ridiculously large number of photos (or whatever the BI equivalent is) to shove in people's faces, including Eda. One of Eda's newest escape strategies is to ask Lilith how Luz is doing, as it instantly makes her drop whatever she is currently doing to ramble on about how proud she is and what Luz has most recently accomplished; everyone, including Lilith herself, agrees that it is annoying. As a result of no longer having Amity to push all their negative attention to, the Blight parents switched to the Twins, who they are much more critical of their faults now that they don't have Amity as a deliberate scapegoat. Emira was subjected to an immense amount of scrutiny due to her position as the (slightly) more responsible twin, and was aggressively pushed to be the perfect Blight. While she can put up the act, Emira deeply resents both of her parents, and eagerly awaits the opportunity to slip their control. She despises how they brushed aside Amity's disappearance, and while putting up the goody-two-shoes act, she longs for the good old days of pulling pranks and teasing her little sis. Edric was shoved aside, regarded as an embarrassment now that Amity was no longer around for him to look good in comparison to. Because he wasn't subjected to the same expectation of being the face of the Blight Family Emira was, he lashed out in the extreme, garnering a reputation as an out of control troublemaker and was switched to the Detention Track for all that he has done. On the few occasions that he and Em have been able to slip away from their parents' notice, they act similarly to Canon, but with a noticeable tension between them. Both latch onto Luz as a surrogate sister, though they both are adamant that she is not and can never be a replacement for Amity, and affectionately nickname her Kittens as a reference to her love of cats and her catlike capriciousness. They are the first to peg onto the fact that "Amy" might be the missing member of the Blight family, as she reflexively hissed upon hearing the name Mittens, something Amity did when younger when the twins first started using the nickname as a way to tease her, though they are both apprehensive over the idea out of fear of being wrong. How's about that? Oh, and before I forget, as a result of Amity repeatedly casting magic and testing spells in the Human Realm, magic has slowly started to accumulate and proliferate over the years, resulting in several groups with magic and magic-adjacent practices and beliefs to discover that they suddenly have true powers, much to their shock and delight. Also, I head-canon that residents of the Boiling Isles treat a lot of stuff that is exceptionally weird on Earth as being a result of their influence, and, because of the whole "banished the giraffes" thing, that they often brought over creatures and things from the Human Realm out of a belief that it was actually theirs. When they couldn't stand the giraffes anymore, they sent them back to where they originally found them, and that was that. They didn't realize that the small portion they had originally taken was such a small part of them, and probably never will. Edit: I know that the Twins almost definitely received plenty of negative attention from their parents in Canon, I just feel that Amity originally got the Lion's Share due to physically standing out more and not being as inherently talented. Without those traits around to target, they switched to attacking the twins over their trouble-making ways.

To break it down; firstly, I am basing some of these decisions on Canon elements, with Amity being considered frightening/weird looking being a result of her biological traits, yes, but also because she would be growing up in Luz's hometown which, apparently, doesn't have a good track record with ANYTHING even remotely unusual, as a lot of what got Luz in trouble back in the Human Realm was weird, but ultimately very much harmless stuff that apparently was enough to send all the other kids screaming. Seriously, the most dangerous things Luz did were the spiders and the snakes, everything was just, well, weird! So, I think it would be fair to say that Luz's school wouldn't react well to Amity's appearance, or it would at least create some kind of obstacle social wise. For the bile thing, a sample to analyze would be taken shortly after bringing her in after the accident, at least once they peg onto the fact that she isn't exactly human. The drink wouldn't be made early on, I was honestly thinking it wouldn't be available until she was entering her preteens. The drink would be to stimulate her body's natural production and reproduction of bile, like those medicines used to help with blood loss. I head-canon that using magic in the Human Realm is very taxing for Witches as they don't have the ambient magic of the Titan to draw on to bolster their reserves and accelerate their recovery, though particularly powerful Witches would need to seriously work if they wanted to even make a dent in their own reserves. Amity's experiments with magical techniques early on are supposed to be what kick off the development of the drink, as she only has the reserves of a child and is using a lot of magic in an environment where she can't recover easily. I also head-canon that bile is merely metabolized when Witches cast magic, it NEEDS to be metabolized when Witches cast magic at that, and as such all Witches have the exact same amount of bile, discounting variances in weight, height, etc. A Witch's magical power is based on how much magic they use in relation to how much bile they "burn" at any given time. The idea that Camila is one of Amity's original nurses... I LIKE IT!! But as to the government thing, they don't immediately know, as the vast majority of Hospitals are privately owned businesses and don't actually answer to the government. I'd say that, depending on how many shenanigans she gets up to, Amity has a solid year before the government finds out about her, at which point they essentially take over the research into Amity, who I will remind you is suffering significant memory loss in regards to her past and was an incredibly young child when she came to the Human Realm so anything she knew would be massively incomplete to start with, and more or less leave everything alone once they cotton on to just how bad it would be take an apparently super-powered alien child from her foster mother to experiment on her. As for Reality Check, I haven't figured that part out yet, or if I'll keep it at all. For native magic users and the jumpstarting of magic on Earth... I have two ideas about how magic functions in The Owl House. The first type is internally originating magic, otherwise known as Witchcraft, which is where bile comes in, and externally originating magic, otherwise known as Shamanism and Wild Magic, which draws on magic from one's environment. Magic returning to the Human Realm is something I envision as being well under way for quite some time, with Amity jumpstarting the process being due to her living there for years, casting magic constantly, or near enough, in her research, merely acting as the straw that broke the camel's back in this scenario; she didn't actually start it so much as she accidentally finished it, and even that took a few years. Witchcraft would be like what you said, human descendants of Witches using proto-bile sacks to fuel their abilities, whereas Shamans would be useless until the Magic Jumpstart actually happens. Witchcraft doesn't actually need circle drawing, it was just the preferred method of BI Witches, so much so that it is now partially built into them. Shamanism always needs some kind of symbol-based focus, or something that has been infused with magic, preferably something that once was or was at least part of something alive at some point. I also head-canon that, due to the supplement speeding up recuperation times, Amity practices magic a LOT, so she has gradually gotten better at metabolizing her bile to perform spells and such, making her much more powerful than she would be at that age, the only problems being that, due to her obsessive studies, her understanding of the various types of magic she can perform are patchy, relegating her skills to either the absolute basics, or Awesome but Impractical; to give an extreme example if this, in one particular school of magic, she knows exactly two spells, one that will move any object within her line of sight exactly one foot in any unobstructed direction so long as she can physically move it on her own if need be, and one that involves summoning a beam of light strong enough to destroy a house made out of concrete that can only be performed during a thunderstorm on a full moon while standing on one leg and blindfolded (that particular spell was created whilst the original caster was drunk out of their mind on a dare, and no one, not even the creator themselves, are sure who thought it was a good idea to write it down).

This is a free to use collection for anyone looking for something to try their hand at or to sink their teeth into. Note: Some of the story elements I used to build this were ones found within the fandom rather than my own opinions on the characters in question.

[lycorogue]

A Family Tradition: Giving Thanks Tree

Tina Belcher - Image care of “Bob’s Burgers” on Fox

When I was a kid - I can’t even remember how old I first was - my mother would tape a cardboard cutout of a bare tree onto the attic door. Along its trunk were the words “Giving Thanks Tree”. She would then hang up a manila envelope filled with leaves cut out of red, orange, and yellow construction paper. Our goal for the month of November, leading into Thanksgiving? Write just one thing we’re thankful for each day and then hang it up on the cardboard tree so it is full by the end of the month.

As a child I HATED this tradition. It was so hard for me to think of 30 unique things I was grateful for, and usually ended up with generic things like “food” or “a home” or “boys” (I was a bit like Tina there). It wasn’t until college did I truly get the value of taking a few minutes each day to think about a blessing in your life you may have otherwise taken for granted. It was hard for me my freshman year of college to know I couldn’t participate in the family Giving Thanks Tree, so, with a new appreciation for the tradition, I made my own cardboard tree, hung it on my dorm room door, posted a sign explaining the tradition, and put out my own envelope of paper leaves for my floormates to join in. I was a naïve 18yo, but thankfully no one posted joke leaves. I was surprised at how many joined in on my tradition as I filled my tree with gratitudes. (I later brought my leaves home to post on the family tree).

In 2011 I got married and officially moved out of my mother’s home. I have yet to find a good wall or door to hang a big ol’ cardboard tree, so instead I switched to a digital list. This year I had decided to share to more than my personal Facebook page. I tried posting daily on Twitter as a month-long thread, but... well, it didn’t go so well, so I stopped after day 13, I think. I did finish the thread over on Facebook, and I decided to bring the complete list over to Tumblr.

So, for any who are interested, below the break is my list of 30 things I was grateful for this past November; things I hope to remain grateful for well beyond the next year. Always remember to stop to count your blessings. If you really try to find them, you will discover you have more than you might have realized.

1. I am grateful that my friends and family have been (mostly) safe and healthy this year, and that those who did contract COVID-19 were able to recover. ❤ (*proceeds to knock on wood*)

2. I am grateful for the amazing support system I have. I know I am one of the lucky ones, but between my husband, my family, my friends, and even my readers, I have so much positivity lifting me up, and I want to make sure I never take that for granted.

3. I am grateful to have a stable roof over my head. It's a decent size for two people (we just have a LOT of things). It has sturdy walls & a secure roof. We can keep it warm in the winter and cool in the summer (not cool enough for Hubby, but nothing outside a meat locker would be). We have an attentive but not intrusive landlady. She repairs anything that needs fixing ASAP, and is a lovely woman we can just pal around with on occasion. Those are things I know a lot of people can't say about their landlords/ladies. We also have welcoming neighbors that are a joy to run into in the parking lot. If we have to be "stuck" somewhere until we can buy our own place, where we are works wonderfully.

4. I am grateful that we are no longer hurting for money. We can splurge on smaller purchases (under $50) without much second thought. We can now pay off ALL of our monthly bills after just the first paychecks of the month. And then the rest of the month is building up funds for the next month's bills and savings. Speaking of, we have a little nest-egg of a couple grand, which is still relatively new for us. I'm also over-paying my student loans and car payment. Not by much, but enough that my bills are a couple months ahead, so... cool. I know that during this year in particular, having any sort of financial security is hard to hold onto, so I want to count our blessings that we're doing alright. *proceeds to knock on wood again*

5. As silly as it seems to say, I am grateful for all of the election memes. It was a super stressful time for most of us, and to have some sort of humor that most of the country could relate to (such as Flash from Zootopia being in charge of counting Nevada's votes) was a great stress reliever and bringer of much-needed smiles. So, thank you, Meme Lords/meme creators for bringing us such fantastic content to help ease that wait and stress.

6. I am grateful to see that my Muse is slowly returning to me, like a groundhog after a long hibernation, poking its head out just enough to acknowledge it's there before scurrying back into its burrow to hide again. It hasn't been much, and only one story was actually written in November, but I have been playing with a handful of plotbunnies. It's nice to be able to de-stress via plot-building and playing with character growth again. 😊 ❤

7. I'm sure you all saw this coming, but I am grateful that T**** lost the election. Not so much that Biden/Harris won, because there's issues there too, but that T**** will be out of the White House. Mostly, I'm grateful because that means so many that I love - and those online personalities that I respect - are going to be in a safer America (and world) as of January 20th. For those who suffered through physical, mental, emotional, financial, and maybe even spiritual hardships over the past 4 years - both Americans and international citizens alike - I am grateful that you get to take a breath and relax (at least, for a little bit) now. I don't know if Biden/Harris will (or can) do anything to actually help heal what caused my loved ones' suffering, but at least they won't be actively adding to it.

8. Getting away from the political, I am grateful that Hubby and I can eat whenever we want (outside of work). We may grumble about what we have available, but that's mostly due to not having the energy to turn ingredients into meals, or we've had the same meal 3x in a row already. Regardless, we CAN eat whenever we are hungry, and I am grateful for that.

9. Keeping with the "things people can take for granted easily" theme, I am grateful for my wardrobe. It may be simple and repetitive, but it is enough to wear something clean each day for anywhere between 7 and 12 days before needing to run to the laundromat. Nothing has holes or ratty edges (unless it's a beloved shirt I refuse to give up). My shoes have good soles to them, and I rarely have sore feet. When my feet DO get repeatedly sore, I have the funds to either fix my shoes via new insoles, or I can simply buy new ones. My coats are warm and, aside from one missing the grip of the zipper (but the zipper itself still works), they are still in good condition. I may not be the most fashionable, and I'm sure I'm not picking the best clothing to fit my body shape, but over-all, I'm protected from the elements, my body is protected, and I am well-kempt.

10. Kept me too long to mention this, but I am grateful that I was able to marry my best friend. There are those out there still looking for companionship. There are those who found it, but, in some cruel twist of fate, lost it. There are those who love their spouse, but may not exactly be friends with them. And yet, here Hubby and I are: two people who would gladly spend every waking moment with each other. I found someone I could chat and cuddle and laugh and cry with every moment of every day. Someone I share interests with, and someone who expands my list of interests. Someone who also expands my view of the world; who makes me wish to be more understanding and accepting, and just... better. I am lucky, and I never want to see a day when I forget that fact.

11. I feel a bit silly with this one, but I am grateful I don't have any major allergies I have to worry about. Specifically, no food allergies. I've seen how difficult it is for people to navigate around food allergies or intense airborne allergies. To have to not think about those sorts of things is such a privilege, and I'm truly grateful for it. I have enough issues with lactose intolerance.

12. Another kinda silly one, but, I'm grateful for @dragnime​ living next door to us. Same was true for when another friend was our neighbor. There's just something about seeing dragnime’s car when I come home (again, same with the other friend and his car) that makes me smile. I don't have to actually socialize with dragnime that day if we're both busy, but to see his car and know he's there should I want to reach out is just a weird sort of comforting. (Man, I really need Hubby and I to win the lottery so we can build our commune already....)

13. I am grateful for publicly announced self-appointed deadlines. Last year I started up my own tradition within the Miraculous Ladybug fandom: Friday 13ths should be Plagg Appreciation Day. Plagg is a character who, I feel, doesn't get nearly enough love or screen time. He's also the kwami of bad luck and destruction, so... Friday 13th seemed fitting. The final bit of writing I had actually finished and posted prior to November was for this fandom holiday back in March, and at the end of that story I told everyone "see you in November!" so I felt silly if I'd let this poor-writing year defeat me. I was determined to have at least THIS story written, and that determination paid off. It ended up taking almost literally my entire day off, but I was able to become inspired enough to write SOMETHING, and it seems to be received well, so... added yay. 😊

14. I am grateful for my relatively easy life. I have been loved and supported my whole life. I never really experienced abuse or prejudice (or even really bullying) personally. I was able to fully experience college without much personal trouble (my student loan debt notwithstanding). Aside from a single 6-month stint right after moving to NY, I have been able to find work easily enough. I haven't had to struggle for food or clothing or housing (stretch budget, yes; struggle, no). I haven't had to live without electricity or clean running water. I've never lost loved ones or valuable items (even sentimentally) through natural disasters. *knock on wood some more* There have been struggles in my life, to be sure, but, on the whole, I've had a happy, safe, supported, and relatively easy life.

15. I'm calling out @chibisunnie​ specifically. I am so SO very grateful for her. I mean, I always am, but this year in particular she's been such a pillar of strength for me. I can't even imagine the stress and panic this year must cause her, and yet she's still always there to comfort ME. (I mean, I hope I comfort her too, but this year in particular I feel it's more her comforting me.) She's been the main one (right behind Hubby) to remind me to be kind to myself this year and that it IS an unusual year; my "failings" in 2020 don't define who I am seeing it's an outlier year.

16. I am grateful that my sister is seeing her true self-worth. She’s worked so hard to improve herself and to find out who she truly is, and it's been fantastic to see her continue to evolve. It's also great to see her find someone who builds her up, so a side bit of gratitude to her boyfriend. And, yes, her perseverance, strength, and determination (as well as her mad crocheting skills) are still things that I greatly admire in her. I'm just so happy and proud and grateful that she seems to be in such a good place. ❤

17. I am grateful that my mom has discovered how capable she truly is. This year has been undeniably hard on small businesses such as hers. It must be such a struggle to keep everything afloat and to stay positive, and yet she is. She's pushing herself to improve her business and marketing. She's dealing with modern technology – basically the bane of her existence – nearly all day long between Zoom meetings to network and learn and grow, to working remotely, to making videos to help promote herself, to reworking her business's website, etc. She's grown so much over the year and I'm so proud of her.

18. Since I mentioned it, I am grateful for video conference programs such as Zoom. Unfortunately, due to scheduling conflicts, exhaustion, and my right knee getting worse, I had to stop doing Zumba (I'm hoping to work my way back into the routine again sooner than later). However, before June screwed me over, Zoom was how I was able to keep up with this exercise routine post-shutdown. It's how I've been able to see my family. It's how so many have been able to continue working. It's how YouTubers I enjoy manage to still interact for their videos. It's fantastic that this technology is not only available, but it's also accessible to so many.

19. Speaking of which, I am grateful for the Oxboxtra crew, Dicebreaker, the Theory Family (yes, I’m aware people find MatPat problematic...), SuperCarlinBrothers, OSP, Hello Future Me, and The Warp Zone. In total, that’s nearly a dozen different YouTube channels I routinely watch – focused mostly on OutsideXbox, Outside Xtra, Film Theory, Game Theory, Food Theory, and SuperCarlinBrothers – and these channels have really helped me keep my sanity. The fandoms specifically for OutsideXbox, Outside Xtra, and SuperCarlinBrothers are just so sweet and supportive of even fellow fans. The YouTubers have such big hearts and are so delightfully goofy, it's almost like welcoming friends into my home whenever I watch them. I even started checking out stuff on Luke Westaway's and Ellen Rose's private channels on YouTube because I enjoyed these entertainers so much. So, thank you, YouTubers, for helping me find something that lets me forget what's going on in the world for 2hrs and just have fun. ❤

20. Along those lines, I am grateful for games such as Animal Crossing: New Horizons and Among Us. Both of those games, and similar ones that were available this year, were great distractions from the chaos of 2020. They have provided fantastic and unique gameplay content for the YouTube channels I follow, which, in turn, provided great video content for me to watch. These types of games were also, and most importantly, great ways for people to stay connected. I've been able to bond and joke around and preoccupy myself with games and gaming streams, and they have certainly been such great lifelines.

21. I am grateful for quiet cuddle moments. Be it in the evening while Hubby and I are watching TV, or while we're actually snuggled in bed watching Disney+ or Netflix, or after hitting snooze in the morning and just wanting to stay cuddled together for another 5 minutes, or even when one of us (*cough*usuallyme*cough*) is feeling super stressed and we just take a couple-minute time-out to just hug, I am grateful for all of them. I know not every couple gets to have these physical contact moments for various reasons, add in my own experience of having an 8-year long-distance relationship, and I try so hard to not take those quiet moments of just simple hugs or hand holds or back scratches for granted.

22. I am grateful for music and the ability to experience it. It motivates me. It inspires me (I have so many stories/chapters written because a song made me think of the plot). It helps with cathartic release. It gets me moving and exercising. It keeps me focused. It allows me to just zone out. Music is just so important in my life and the life of so many more. Bless all the music creators and performers.

23. I am grateful for Anime Night. It's a bit of normalcy in this year of anything but. It's a way to stay connected with a couple of my friends, and the little bits of socializing we do outside of watching has really allowed me to get to know both men more, as well as learn more about the other people really important in their lives.

24. I am grateful for the experience of turning fans into friends (and also being allowed to evolve from fan to friend). One of the best things about fanfiction is the ability to see people interact and react with your work, and to then respond in kind. It's sort of a silver lining to the relatively small number of views and comments on most fanfiction (compared to most professionally published work, that is), since it means you aren't too overwhelmed to truly experience each comment, follow, fave, like, reblog, etc. Through people gushing about my work, and me gushing back at how happy they've made me, I've been able to build up some really sweet friendships. I've also made two new close-acquaintances (we don't interact QUITE enough to be “friends” just yet) from my own gushy reviews and their responses to how great my reviews made them feel. So, to @chibisunnie​, @thetauruspixie​, @livrever​, @tlos21​, @chanceuseladynoire​ and @zenmisery​ (I hope that's all of you), I am so grateful for the bond we've had over fanfiction. Love all of you so much! ❤

25. I am grateful for members of minorities and other marginalized peoples for taking the time and effort to try to educate others; making it easier on us when they are in no way obligated to help us understand at all (it's really on us to put in the effort to try to understand them). This year alone, via personal posts on social media, infographics, comics, people posting reference sheets of hotlinks to research/source materials, etc, I was able to learn so much. I was able to grow and try to overcome my own prejudices, misunderstandings, and misinformation. All because people decided to share their raw experiences or do the research for me. It was something each and every one of them volunteered to do in an effort to help educate, and I am so grateful for the lessons they've taught me.

26. I am grateful that people find me a safe person to talk to. It is one of the few things I want in life; to be a safe haven for friends, family, and even strangers who are hurting. I realize the amount of trust people put in me and the vulnerability they are allowing themselves. It is humbling, to say the least, but also such an amazing feeling. I will try to keep learning and keep growing to keep earning the trust warranted me being this safe haven, but in the meantime, I'll continue to be grateful that people do find me as someone they can be safe with.

27. On the flipside, I am grateful to have friends who allow me to just be who I am. I can be obsessed with a cartoon aimed at 10 year olds (Miraculous Ladybug), and my friends not only don't judge, but they also happily let me know when their young children start to enjoy the show! I can be goofy or forgetful or screw something up, and, again, there's no judgment. They just accept me as I am, and I am blessed.

28. I am grateful for the support my friends and family have (outside of me) in their lives. It does my heart well to know that even if I disappear due to my own mental health issues, that my friends and family still have great support around them. They are all kind people surrounded by more kind people, and I nearly cry whenever I read or hear about my friends getting support they need and the outpouring of support. YOU ARE ALL BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE AND I LOVE YOU ALL AND EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU DESERVE THE OUTPOURING OF SUPPORT YOU'VE FOUND. ❤

29. I am grateful for the continued bonding we've had with my sister-in-law this past year. I miss having the post-Zumba walk where we can just talk, but, largely through effort on her part, we've been having some time every Tuesday when she comes over to work after dropping the kids at school. We also had a whole evening with her on Black Friday. She's also texted and called a few times to chat, and we are getting closer and closer each year. Not everyone thinks of their in-laws as family despite what the law says, so I'm grateful that we have always thought of each other as family, and that we continue to bond and grow as siblings.

30. I am grateful for this family tradition. It allows me to really focus on what is important in life, and all the joys and blessings I've experienced. It's especially important during this trash heap of a year. I love that I can find silver linings in my life and appreciate what I have. This tradition is also a reminder to not take things for granted. I am so SO grateful that my mom introduced us to this tradition and forced us to participate as we grew up. It's a lesson that will stay with me, and it's such an important one. Thank you, Mom!

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Impossible things

(Hayffie 💙. For months I’ve been wanting to write about a Hayffie breakup, but I didn’t have language that felt authentic to me. Sensuality, angst, and playfulness are just pieces of the complex dynamic that makes them interesting to me. I see them stuck for years in dysfunctional relating, full of emotional highs and lows, struggling together and suffering even more when apart.)

***

Effie knew it wouldn’t take long for her return to the Capitol to become a curiosity of the press. Even with the passage of time and without her old facades, she was still quite recognizable. Her moving to 12 had been regarded as everything from sensational and romantic to scandalous and foolish.

She was prepared for the question when it came. Her cards were committed to memory.

“Can you tell us about your split from Haymitch Abernathy?”

She responded as she’d rehearsed, “I gave the relationship my best. But when it was hurting more to be in than out, I had to do something. I was losing myself. I had to stop and find myself again."

***

Haymitch sat in the dark with the screen flickering, tuned to the channel she’d watched sometimes. Her showing up on screen, right there in front of his face, wasn’t a surprise. If he was being honest with himself, he’d acknowledge that’s why he had the damn thing on most evenings since she’d left — wondering if he’d catch a glimpse of her.

Between his fingers, he twirled her hairpin — the one he’d kept for years. The twirling was a trick he’d learned with coins. While most people around him had been starving, he’d had enough coins to fuck around with and let them fall between the floorboards. That was a long time ago.

He clenched the clip in his hand, hard enough for the decorative metal to cut into his palm. He crossed the room in three angry steps and hurled the thing out the window.

“No comment!” He yelled at the screen. “You were supposed to tell those bastards ‘No comment!’”

When reporters had come knocking earlier, Haymitch hadn’t given them the satisfaction of hearing even those words. He just slammed the door in their faces.

Effie’s eyes were concealed under dark glasses, and he was as pissed about not being able to see them as much as he was pissed about her words to the reporter. Her hair was blowing in the wind. She caught a lock of it and tucked it behind her ear. Her lips were shiny pink like the flesh of white peaches.

Losing herself? He didn’t understand why that was a bad thing. She’d said it weeks before she’d left, and he brushed it off then. She was always complaining about something.

Losing himself was his OBJECTIVE not his complaint. He’d been doing that most of his life in alcohol. And for years, he’d been losing himself in her — her lips, her hair, her eyes, her body. Life had been less intolerable that way — being lost. Ah, hell. With her, life was better than tolerable. It was even good sometimes. She’d made it good.

But she’d been hurting?? For how long? She’d never said it in those words, and now she was telling the whole country.

***

The call that came through after the interview aired could have been anyone. “No doubt Mother has prepared a diatribe of the ways I’ve disgraced the family.”

When Effie answered, the extended silence told her the person there wasn’t her mother. The deep breath he took filled more than her ears. Her hands started shaking, and she tried to keep her voice steady. “...What do you want, Haymitch?”

Frustration throbbed in his head. The silence between them was more deafening than anything they might otherwise be screaming at each other.

“...We agreed to leave one another alone.” Her voice was everything but steady.

“We agreed to tell the press, ‘No comment,” he seethed.

“We agreed to spend our lives together. Obviously we don’t have a great track record with keeping our agreements.”

“You’re the one who left.”

“You’re the one who made me feel invisible — and insane.”

“Invisible? You make yourself impossible not to see! And insane?? Your feelings aren’t my responsibility.”

“Impossible?? You have at least a dozen ways of not looking, not listening, and not caring about what matters to me.”

“Just because I’m not paying attention to *The High Priestess* every second doesn’t mean I’m not caring.”

“That’s not what I mean. That’s not my expectation.”

“Then what DO you mean? Because it’s been a month, and I still don’t get it!”

“I gave up EVERYTHING for you!”

“Don’t put that on me! Your choices aren’t my responsibility either. If me and the kids weren’t part of ‘everything,’ then why’d you even come here and stay?”

Her voice softened. “That’s not what I meant. And you know why I stayed.”

“Tell me.”

“Damn it, Haymitch, you KNOW why.”

“Say it anyway. ...You say every other fucking thing a hundred times.”

“Fine! It was the curtains.”

That wasn’t the answer he was expecting.

“...The little flowers on the curtains I hung in our— in your bedroom. I imagined those flowers opening when the sun came up, and I wanted to be there every day to see them. I wanted all the words you said to me when you talked in your sleep.”

“What words? What’d I say?”

“You weren’t awake, so why does it matter?”

“Since we’re through, what’s the point in not telling me?”

“We’re going round in circles, like always. You exhaust me!”

“If you’re exhausted and you were hurting here, then it’s better that you’re gone.”

She hesitated. “IS it better?”

It’s hell, he didn’t say. “It’s pointless to be living a life that hurts. If you’re not hurting now, then you ought to be where you are.”

“Who says I’m not hurting?”

“ARE you?”

“Are YOU?”

“This is ridiculous. Forget I called—“

“You told me not to leave! When you were sleeping. You gripped my arm and murmured the reasons I should stay. So many mornings you did that while I imagined those flowers opening. THAT’S why I stayed so long.”

“Effie...”

“But I can’t keep living off of unconscious words. I’ve been lost in something that isn’t even real.”

“Not real?! Just because I don’t say it all when I’m conscious doesn’t mean it ain’t real.”

“Well you seem conscious now, so tell me what’s real.”

He got quiet. She always wanted him to talk about the feelings he drank to avoid. He waited for her to push him, but she just let the silence get bigger until it was pushing out from inside his chest.

“My hand is bleeding.”

“What?... Why?”

“I was holding your hairpin so tight the damn thing cut me. ...I hurt so bad that there aren’t words for it.”

“Haymitch...”

“I don’t know how to give you what you want.”

“I’ll be damned if it’s your hand that’s hurting beyond words. Why do you do that!? Why don’t you just tell me what you’re really feeling?”

“I just did! You knew who you were making a life with. Why expect me to be different now?”

She didn’t answer. The silence between them grew so pregnant that something needed to either be born right then or die.

“I love you.” She said the words he’d expected earlier.

“Me loving you in the way I do isn’t enough for you. ...And that’s bullshit.”

She was crying now. “This separation is killing me.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because my needs aren’t bullshit. ...More hours than not, I was in that bed alone while you were passed out somewhere else. Those flowers opening was a fantasy.”

“I wanna be in that bed with you now. It’s OURS. ...Damn it. I hate this.”

“I hate this too. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to pass that train every day and not get on it? But if I come home, our clothes will be off before we’ve even said a word. Our bodies will be saying a thousand things and fixing nothing at all. I’ll go from flying... to feeling certain we can make a life together... to feeling uncertain... to feeling that it’s impossible... to being completely deflated. Until the tension gets to be too much, and we’ll try to fix it again with sex. And it’ll be so good, so impossibly good that I’ll be flying and the cycle will start all over. That’s a roller coaster, Haymitch, not a life. I need to find my life again.”

Tears were welling up in his head, and if he didn’t end the call right then, she was gonna hear them in his voice. And if she did, she’d get on the train, and she’d be in his arms. He knew all that was true. — And she’d just gone into painful detail about why that wasn’t the right choice for her.

“Listen, I’ve gotta go. There’s something I need to do. I’m sorry for not leaving you alone like you wanted.”

“Haymitch—“ A click and a long tone told her he’d ended the call. She knew too well the sound of him shoving down his feelings. He was trying not to cry, and he was failing. The picture of him in her mind was so clear, and she could hardly stand not being with him. She wanted him like that. It was exactly how she wanted him, sliced open with his feelings showing. She felt desperate to call him back, but she knew he wouldn’t answer.

***

If forgetting her was something he could have done, then he would have headed to the liquor cabinet and drunk himself into the unconscious state that he apparently used to pour out the contents of his heart.

But since forgetting about her was not something he could do, he headed outside with a flashlight. And he combed the yard in full consciousness until he found the goddamn hairpin.

He went to bed that night holding it in his hand. The curtains blocked out the light from the night sky, and he couldn’t see the flowers. They were so small he’d rarely noticed them, but he wanted them now. He turned the lamp on low and rolled toward the window. They were tiny buds, golden like her hair.

He turned off the light. Tomorrow he’d take the curtains down. It hurt too much to look at them.

***

There was no angel on Effie’s shoulder advocating the wisdom in holding the line and finding herself again. There was no devil on her other shoulder advocating the indulgence in desire. All at once, both shoulders were filled with wild horses pulling her in a single direction — home. She didn’t need to inquire about the train schedule. She’d committed it to memory.

The roller coaster was pulling out of the station again, and she was already on it.

[hello-there]

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[alexisluthor]

A view of Prodigal Son through my lens of mental health

Prodigal Son is a fantastic show. One of the reasons I got so drawn into it is because I can relate to Malcolm. I have PTSD, night terrors, panic attacks...in short - trauma. 

Malcolm’s trauma, and how he deals with it, plays a significant role in the show and the writer’s have done a great job exploring this, but there’s always room to explore further. 

For as much as I have in common with the character of Malcolm, I have just as many differences. I’m not pretty, I’m not rich, I don’t have medication that works for me, and my father’s not a serial killer. I’m average on a good day, totally broke, allergic to the majority of SSRI’s and my dad’s a geologist. Writing all of that down I realize that only the last point works in my favor. 

My own personal drabbles aside, there’s a lot I’ve experienced that I’m sure the show could explore as well. 

For one, finding the right medication can be a slow, terrifying and tedious process. There can be side effects...withdrawals like ‘brain zaps,’ when you’re going off one and getting on another. It can be quite rough. There’s maintenance medication, and emergency medication like Xanax. Malcolm said that he’s wildly dependent on Benzos, but we’ve never seen him take an emergency medication I don’t think.

Still, he has his medication and his routine, which is good. Maybe he’s got all that figured out already. I don’t really know what that’s like - to have that all figured out. I’ve tried. I’ve been prescribed (what feels like) nearly everything and have had a whole host of terrible side effects - one of which (rather ironically) is anxiety. My body simply can’t break down anxiety medication, the drugs building up in my system until side effects become inevitable. That’s just my own weirdness though.

Another thing that works out pretty well for Malcolm is how others, namely his team, treats him. They know that he’s ‘different,’ but they accept him. In real life...well...in my experience...it’s not like that really. 

What it *is* like is people judging you or trying to help you or blowing you off entirely. I personally devote a massive amount of time and energy attempting to ‘come off’ as normal. I do things that scare me to death - things I wouldn’t normally do - just to prove my normalcy. But I’m not normal.

I bend over backwards to make concessions for other people, but (aside from a few family members) no one does the same for me. They don’t do it because they don’t understand. And if I try to explain my aversion to certain things...if I try to explain my anxiety to someone who has never dealt with it themselves (or know someone who has) it’s nearly impossible to explain. It’s like trying to describe colors to someone who’s colorblind.

There’s this inherent loneliness, this clawing desire to be known and understood that goes unmet, and this massive fear that no one out there cares or understands. 

You try to explain things in such a way that people will understand.

To demonstrate the disheartening result of me trying to open up to people, these are the kinds of things I hear from people in response to my trying to explain. “Why don’t you just get over it?” “You should put yourself out there more.” “Well I never had a problem with XYZ, why do you?” “Being anxious means you’re not being strong enough in your faith.” “Have you tried essential oils?” Have you tried yoga?” “You should go Keto.” “It sounds like you need to work on XYZ…” “Why do you have PTSD? You were never in a war.”

Eventually, you just stop putting yourself out there. You stop trying to make friends. You stop trying to date. Because the experiences you have - the truly bad ones - are so crushing, discouraging and heart wrenching. 

I’ve had bosses pick on me for being anxious. I’ve had some ask me to do things that really made my anxiety quite bad - and I did them anyway, rather than trying to explain. I’ve had terrible coworkers, and awful people who I thought were my friends, who turned out not to be. 

And Malcolm’s team is just...there for him...supporting him. And it’s wonderful. But it would also be wonderful to see him interact with someone who really doesn’t get it. Because that happens quite a lot.

Switching gears, I’ve also had some different experiences when it came to therapists - if I could afford them. I had a good one, but she went to work at a hospital. She left, and she was the only therapist I had ever connected with. I tried to see one before her, but we didn’t connect at all and it left me wondering if therapy was even an option for me. Then I found her and it was a good option. It worked out nicely. Then she left. And I’ve struggled with my anxiety now more than ever...but I don’t have her...so I’m trying someone new. 

And each time you start with a therapist, it’s like starting at zero. Recalling all of your trauma with them...wondering if they can help or not. One lady I saw, who was very much the wrong fit, told me that I couldn’t have a kid on my own. That it wasn’t right if I didn’t have a husband. Needless to say - that didn’t work out.

And you do try everything. You try the tapping method thing and the brain spotting thing. You try traditional therapy and so many other things because, more than anything, you want to be normal. People say normal is overrated, but it isn’t. It’s a golden, beautiful thing that feels so out of reach - so unattainable sometimes. 

And you’re not sure when it happened, but you’ve somehow got this label. This necklace that says, “broken,” that’s chained around your neck. And you carry it, believing that you are inherently defective - the belief seeping into other areas of your life like a poison. 

You try to cope, but that’s not always possible. Malcolm copes through his job, but that can be extremely dangerous, as I found out when I no longer had a job. You have to be able to stand on your own...without putting your chips into anything that you have the potential to lose. A job. A relationship. A certain home. A particular friend. 

What would happen if Malcolm no longer had his job? Or like...during this quarantine, for example...he wasn’t able to do it? 

I think Malcolm said it best when he said that he’s a mess, but he’s a functioning mess. Right now, I can’t make that same claim. There are peaks and valleys of dealing with anxiety on this level. There are moments - years - where I did wonderfully. And then there are moments like this - years - where I’m at the very lowest point possible. 

It’s a rollercoaster ride that you can’t get off. There are moments of progress and major setbacks. 

I realize that the show’s main focus isn’t Malcolm’s mental state - although it probably could be - but I think that there is more room for the show to delve into this ongoing battle more. 

I’m terrible at transitions at 12:37 am so I’ll just go on in saying that there’s another thing I, personally struggle with. My Dad has cancer. Terminal. And I often feel guilt. Guilt for not spending enough time with him or guilt because I don’t get along with him. We’re quite different people and he - in no way, shape, or form understands what my anxiety/PTSD is. Some of the most hurtful things ever said to me, were said by him. And it creates this dichotomy. On one hand, I love him - and on the other, he’s hurt me beyond measure. 

I think Malcolm feels this same dichotomy, only in a different way. His father’s a monster. He wants to hate him - part of him does. But part of him also loves him. There's guilt there. It’s the same type of guilt that I have, although it’s a different flavor - it exists for a different reason. 

I’m not really allowed to be mad at my dying father. Malcolm’s not really allowed to love his monster of a father. Etcetera, etcetera. Which I think is a fascinating bit of cognitive dissonance for the show to dissect.

So...that is my very lengthy and probably barely relevant analysis of the show through my mental health lens. 

There is such a stigma attached to mental health that I didn’t even want to admit I had a problem until I was eighteen, even though my struggles started a decade prior to that. The stigma is so difficult to get past. The questions you get asked are so intolerable and invasive at times. The progress forward can be so slow and painful. Still I try my best. And I realize this is just a show, but it’s a show that means a lot to me for obvious reasons.

There are those massive differences between real-life-me and TV character, Malcolm Bright.

Malcolm is beautiful. He’s wonderfully dressed and comes from money. He had enough money to attend one of the best Ivy League colleges and attain an amazing degree. He doesn’t have to worry about paying for meds or his therapist. He has meds that work for him. He has a fulfilling job that piques his interest and pays him enough to live off of. He has coworkers and a mother and a mentor who are there for him in a non-judgmental way. He is not the norm - but the exception. And it works for the show. 

I just hope that people know that having these issues is not thrilling or sexy. It doesn’t make me a more interesting person. And oftentimes, people who do suffer from these issues don’t have half the support or care that this character does. 

I hope that this show succeeds in getting the conversation about mental health started. I hope that the stigma around mental health begins to wane. And someday, I hope that mental healthcare will be available to everyone - no matter their social class or income.  

There’s a lot that this show can explore with Malcolm and his mental health journey and I hope that we get a season two so that it can. 

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower: Unexpected - 4

The Tower: Unexpected An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist Previous //

Pairing:  Avengers x ofc, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2671

Warnings:   Angsty talk, Steve’s past, Bucky’s depressed. Smut (oral f receiving, vaginal m/f)

Synopsis: A little over 2 years after moving into the Avengers Tower, Elly finds herself pregnant against the odds.  While some are excited, others are terrified, and pregnancy that none expected to happen causes rifts through the group and threatens to end the relationship.  

Author’s Note:  Written with the lovely @avengerscompound Y’all it’s Steve’s birthday, and this is the Steve chapter.

Chapter 4: Steve

A week passed and I still hadn’t seen any of the other men.  It was like a ghost town in the common room and while it might have been possible to go track a lot of them down, Natasha had said that Clint had gone into his shut-off defensive mode where he hid in the vents a lot and Tony had given FRIDAY orders to keep me out of the engineering lab and penthouse again.

That hurt.  A lot.  I didn’t know how many more times he could do that to me and I’d be able to forgive him for it.

I kept telling myself, processing time.  They just needed to process and figure out exactly what they wanted.  It didn’t hurt less, but it certainly helped me from not circling the drain.  Besides, while Tony did lock himself away from me, he did also go about finding a doctor for me.  An expert in obstetrics was put onto staff just to look after me.  She was in the process of relocating and I just needed to wait for that before I had my first appointment.  So even though Tony had locked me out, he was still participating.  I would take that as a good sign.

I can’t say that the thought of terminating didn’t keep coming back to me.  Not that I wanted to but I just thought it would be better if we were going to do this they had the time to decide they wanted it beforehand.  Then I pictured what that would do to Natasha and Wanda and I just couldn’t.  Especially Nat.  I think Natasha would shut down if I chose that.  It’d be that last little thing to say she didn’t get to just be a regular person.  I know, I know, it’s not my job to give that to her, but I did want this baby.  If it was just me, Nat and Wanda so be it.  I had gone into this relationship being monogamous with Nat.  It would hurt to go back to that, but I’m sure we could be happy.

I mean there was Hulk too.  He was still around.  Bruce seemed to be just… gone.  Hulk was very excited though and spent a lot of time between my room and Bruce’s.  My bed was big, but not Hulk big and being in Bruce’s place just made me miss him.

I had taken to mostly just staying in my apartment.  Wanda was sleeping with me every night and it didn’t feel as much like a slap to the face.  At the end of the week, there was a knock at my door and when I answered it, I was faced with an extremely exhausted-looking Steve.

“Um, hey. You got a minute?”  His voice matched the dark circles under his eyes.

“Yeah, come in.  Is something wrong?”  I said standing back to let him in.  I felt a twinge of guilt like this was my fault that he looked like this, but I was mostly just glad to see him.  He had been quick to call the baby his when I announced I was pregnant.  I didn’t think this was an ‘I’m out’ talk.

“No, I mean.  Yes. I mean, no.  Maybe.”  He said coming in.  He looked at me helplessly and my heart broke for him a little.  I had never seen him so frazzled.  “I'm sorry. This isn't helping.  I don't know where to start.”

I guided him to the couch and got him to sit.  “You want some tea, honey?”

He nodded and slouched forward rubbing at the pad of his left thumb.  “Yeah.  That sounds good.”

I went and made him a pot of tea and brought it back on a tray pouring him a cup when I sat down beside him.  “So, what is it?  What’s the matter?”  I asked.

He picked up the cup and just held it in his large hands, looking into the reddish brew.  “I don't know there's a lot.  What day is it?  I can't think straight, and I'm sure I'm going to say something wrong.”

“It’s about the pregnancy, right?”  I asked, a pit forming in my stomach.  “Do you not want to be a part of it?”

He put the cup down and pulled me into his arms.  “No, honey. No.”  He said, nuzzling against my neck.  “Where to start?  Where to start?”

I relaxed a little letting him hold me and looked up into the blue of his eyes.  “Maybe at the beginning.”

“Beginning. Right,”  He said and took a breath.  “So, we've talked about when I was little right?”

I obviously knew a bit.  He had been small and sick.  The list of conditions he suffered was long and most were debilitating.  His father had resented him.  Back then the idea of Eugenics was not just held by the Nazis.  It was popular in America too.  Steve was beaten by his father due to the man’s disgust that the could have such a sickly child.  “Yeah.  You were really sick.  And your dad …”

He shook his head.  “Okay, we haven't talked about this then.”

“So, tell me.”

“We…”  Steve said, obviously searching for the right words.  “Um, we meaning Bucky and I.  We talked about them.  Not with each other obviously.  What we had back then, we didn’t exactly see it as permanent.  We pictured wives and maybe… they’d understand…”  He shook his head again.  “But I was always so sick, and I didn't want to pass anything on. And then... Well…”

“So you do want kids?”

He sighed.  “Well, yes and no.”

“What's the no?”  I asked now a little confused as to where he was going with this.  “You aren't sick now.  I mean, it might not even be biologically your kid.”

He made a vague hand gesture like he was brushing that away.  “That doesn't matter to me. Can you imagine a little super soldier? What kind of stress would that do to your body?  Raising the kid?  The no... The no is about the world.”

“What about the world?”  I asked.

“It's this absolute shit show.  I went down and there were bullies and intolerance.  And I come back up and there are bullies and intolerance. I thought it'd be better.”

I rubbed his arm.  I knew he still struggled with that.  The constant need to fight the same fight over and over was exhausting for him.  “Okay... so you only wanted kids when we lived in a Utopia?”

“Well, maybe just one where I don't have to worry that they're going to be attacked by aliens. Or that their city is going to float into the sky.”  He explained.

I took his hand and gave it a squeeze.  “So no new people until then?”

“That's how I would have preferred it at least.”

“Okay…”  I took a breath and let it out slowly.  “I don't... I don't know what this means for us.  This baby is on its way.”

“No, this one is different.”  He said.  “I'd have liked to have it planned, and all the details worked out.  But that's not the reality.”

I shook my head and slumped a little, the guilt inside me bubbling up again.  I shouldn’t be forcing these people to be parents.  “I’m sorry.”

“No.  No.  It’s not your fault, sweetheart.”  He said wrapping his arms around me and kissing me on top of the head.  “It’s just… what I’ve been processing.  I keep thinking about what can I do now to get it there.  I need to make the world as safe as it can be before they get here.  I just… I need them to be safe.”  I nuzzled in against him and nodded my head.  “There’s more… Bucky…”

I looked up at him, my eyes glistening with the start of tears.  “What about him?”

“Well, he's sorta my Bucky.  But he's this new Bucky.  And the arm.”

I dropped my gazed and sighed.  I hadn’t even considered that.  Bucky must be a complete mess right now.  It had taken him so long to be comfortable having me in the bed with him, he still never quite was if we were alone.  Now he had to deal with a tiny fragile baby.  “Oh.  I get it.”

“Do you?”

“He thinks he's gonna hurt them.”

Steve nodded sadly.  “Yeah.”

“You know he's not though, right?  That's not him.”  I said looking back up at Steve.

“I know that. But he doesn't, and he's not dealing.”  He explained.

I leaned in against him again, letting him support my weight.  “I'm really sorry, Steve.  I didn't mean for this to happen.”

“I know. I'm not blaming you.”  He said.  “It's not anyone's fault.  I just need to support him as he figures it out.”

“It's not fair that he has to deal with this.  I wish he could see himself how he really is.”

“Me too. But he can't and right now he's isolating.”  He said, rubbing my arm.

“What do you want to do?”  I asked.   “I mean... You look exhausted.  How do you need to handle this that you're okay?  Do you need to step away while you help Bucky come to terms with it?  Do you want to try and timeshare?  Do you want to just do parts, like doctors appointments?  Do you want me to come and talk to Bucky too?”

“No, he'll shut down more,”  Steve said.  “I want to be here.  I am still wrapping my head about this, but this baby is happening and I want it.  I want to be here.  No matter who is actually the father.”

“I want you to be here too.  You need to take care of you too.”  I leaned up and kissed his jaw.  “I'm still waiting to hear about my first doctor’s appointment. You want to come see them with me when I have one?”

“Yes, I wouldn't miss it.”  He assured me, giving me a little squeeze around the waist.

I sighed in relief and settled back against him, playing with his hand.  “You think it will work out?  It's just been me, Wanda, Nat, and Hulk since I told everyone.”

“Yeah.”  He said.  “Give it time. We can be squirrelly.”

I nodded.  “It's hard because I don't get to hide from this.  I thought you'd all freak but I didn't think you'd all run.”

“Sorry, honey.”

“Me too. Never gonna have sex again.”  I said firmly.

“You say that now…”  Steve teased, giving my side a squeeze.

“Maybe with Nat and Wanda.  Can’t get pregnant like that.”

He ran his fingers up my side and under my breasts.  “You sure about that?”

“Steve!”  I squealed.  My breasts had been really tender and even that slight touch and sent little currents running through me.

“What?  I’m not doing anything.”  He teased leaning down and ghosting his lips over my neck.

My skin prickled and I turned so I was kneeling, facing him.  “Why?  Why are you doing this to me?”

“Can’t get pregnant if you’re already pregnant.”  He joked.

I shrugged and nodded my head.  “I guess you have a point.”

“I know what I’m talking about.”  He said and pulled me into a deep kiss.

I climbed into his lap and returned the kiss, matching his passion.  It was slow and deep and full of need.  Not just for sex, but connection and release.  We needed to be there for each other.  To know that even if he couldn’t always be there, I was still his and he was still mine.

His hands ran up my back and bunched in my hair as I ran mine through his, the soft smacking of our lips were joined by our hums of pleasure.  He pulled my shirt up over my head and unfastened my bra as I quickly unbuttoned his and pushed it down his arms.

When he latched onto my breast I mewled loudly and threw my head back, a sudden jolt running straight to my core.  He smirked and sucked, pressing his teeth down on my nipple.  A dull ache built in my breast, which had the converse effect of making the rest of me tingle.  I moaned and ground my hips down against his hardening cock, my pussy already soaking in anticipation of more.

He lifted me and lay me down on the couch, first pulling down my pants and then moving between them.  “You.  Definitely.  Sure.  You.  Don’t.  Want.  Any.  More.  Sex?”  He asked.  Each word dotted with a kiss down my stomach.

“Okay.  I take it back.”  I whined, lifting my hips up.

He chuckled and swiped his tongue up my pussy.  “Mmm…”  He hummed.  “You taste different, you know that?”

I shook my head and pulled in a ragged breath as a shiver ran up my spine.

He sucked on my clit and pushed two fingers into my cunt, slowly fucking me with them before he curled them and dragged his fingertips over my internal walls.  I gasped and bucked my hips up and he pulled his fingers free and offered them to me.  I pulled them into my mouth, sucking them clean as he watched through lust darkened eyes.

He was right it was different.  A little muskier and slightly stronger-tasting.  I hummed and I licked myself from his fingers and he dipped his head back down between my legs.

Steve is very good at learning exactly how people tick.  He seemed to get off on knowing all the exact right buttons to push to drag things out or send them over.  Right now he put all his focus on sending me over as quickly as he could.  His tongue made little patterns over my clit.  Pressing hard to barely tickling it, so I couldn’t get used to any one thing.  His fingers touched on my g-spot immediately and he was merciless with them.  Pressing them and dragging them over my g-spot and making my loose complete control of myself.  I bucked under him and my legs trembled.  The sounds I made were loud and animalistic and completely involuntary.

With a sudden surge, I came, gushing on him.  He sat up rubbing my clit through it and looking pretty pleased with himself.

“Fuck.”  I sighed as little shivers from my orgasm ran through me.  “God, I needed that.”

“Mmm… I know.”  He hummed and moved back over me.  “And I think we might both need this.”  He added sinking his cock slowly into me.  I dug my fingers into his broad shoulders looking right into his eyes as he stretched and filled me.

“Oh, god, Steve.” I moaned.

“Mmm… I know.”  He said and began to thrust.

Each of his movements was slow and deep and pushed me down into the couch.  We started to kiss again and I dragged my nails down his back and dig them into his ass rolling my hips up to meet him.

This was more than just sex.  It was reassurance and love and a need for each other.  We were connecting as a couple.  We were part of a bigger group and that might mean we weren't always available to each other but we were always here for each other.  I came for a second time and then a third.  Each one deep and intense but without the urgency of the first.  On the forth I arched up under him and dug my fingers into his back, moaning his name.  He jerked suddenly forward and came, spilling inside me.

He rolled off and we lay side by side on the couch, our limbs tangled together.  “I love you, you know?”  He whispered.  “I will make this work.  I promise.”

“I know,”  I said humming and nuzzling under his neck.  He was a good man and this was a weird situation but I knew I had him.  That even if it did take a whole for everyone to come to, we were family and we'd work this out.

// NEXT

[snowqueen-68]

Showing up in the World

Have you ever been so scared to do something that you just kept putting it off - like forever? That’s been me. I’ve been a writer since I was a kid but have never been brave enough to put out in the world anything I’ve written. I’ve stopped myself over and over and over again, becoming my own worst enemy. Today I’m deciding that I’m tired of pretending that I don’t care about putting my voice out in the world. Because I do. We are writers simply because we engage in the act of writing but we become more substantive, more solid in that identity of Writer when we share what we create. Thank you to my daughter, KJ @billyhargrovens for showing me the way, for being so inspiring and supportive. I would not be here without her!

Second Chances

Prologue Summer, some time in the early 1500s A forest in south-east Germany (Prince-Bishopric of Bamberg)

The Stag moved around a tree to step into the clearing, pausing for the length of a breath before setting a hoof to the forest floor. He nudged the air with his nose, his whole body on high alert, attuned to anything that he might consider an approaching danger. But nothing stirred, no sound reached his twitching, straining ears; no evening birdsong filled the air, no small woodland creatures scurried and chittered about in search of an evening meal. Even hours after the murder the large space remained silent and empty, except for the body of the dead girl, Lily, and the now quiet, grievously injured form of the still-living Sebastian. All that long afternoon the Stag had stood witness to the man’s pain, able to both smell and feel it even from the distance of his hiding place amongst the trees. It lingered still. And though this was not the first time Alastair had stood witness to suffering and death, this day had been difficult.  He’d been forced to stand and watch as the hours dragged out, unable to offer any aid or comfort.  Those had been his Master’s orders. He, Alastair, was there to keep watch only while his Master attended the council that the illegal attack on Lily and Sebastian had warranted. His orders had been to stay hidden, to keep his presence in the forest a secret until he had received word from the Master that the Council had concluded its business. Just moments before that word had come at last, and so it was with great relief that, finally, as the last rays of the sun’s light began to disappear, the stag was able to make his way across the clearing to bend a curious nose to the bodies of his two charges. For Lily there was nothing that Alastair could do. He snuffed softly at her loose dark hair as he passed, his head rearing back slightly as the smell of death assaulted him. The girl was gone and only the Master could help her now. Turning, Alastair touched his nose to Sebastian’s cheek, then gently nuzzled at his neck and chest. The odor of blood and sweat filled his nostrils, musky, tangy, and he moved with care. There was so much blood that it was almost impossible to tell exactly where Sebastian was wounded and the stag did not wish to hurt him further.  Breath still flowed through his body but only just; the beat of his heart a faint rhythm against the stag’s sensitive nose. Alastair blew out a hard breath and lifting his head sniffed again at the air in the clearing, this time seeking any sign of his Master; impatient for him to arrive, impatient for news of the Council’s verdict. Surely so blatant a violation of the Game’s rules could not, would not go unpunished. But one never knew with the Council, which really was more of a family meeting than an actual, official council. Though there were a few others involved, the participants that mattered were Alastair’s Master, the Master’s brother and their mother; an immoveable creature, who, in Alastair’s opinion, was too often inclined to turn a blind eye to the chaotic nature of her second son. The thought that she might do exactly that now, even in the face of this intolerable crime made Alastair extremely anxious and he pawed at the grass and loam with one hoof and shook his head, hard, as if the movement could dispel the low-grade fear that pulsed in his belly. The great rack of bone that flared from the top of his head rattled and clacked, filling the quickly darkening clearing with an eerie sound. To soothe his jumbled feelings Alastair turned away from Sebastian’s body to explore the rest of the clearing his movements graceful despite his enormous size. A few steps on he bent his nose once again, this time to investigate the body of one of the mercenaries that Sebastian had been able to fell before being overcome.  Sebastian’s physical prowess had been impressive, but he and the girl had been outnumbered.  Outnumbered and overwhelmed. The six who had killed the girl and so effectively injured Sebastian had known what they were doing, cutting Lily down efficiently and definitively while leaving Sebastian injured, suffering, and alive. The stag’s body shuddered as he remembered, quickly shutting out any thoughts of revenge. The Master would never allow it. The Game wouldn’t either. He snuffed once more at the dead mercenary, before picking his head up to glance again at Sebastian whose chest, Alastair noted gratefully, still rose slightly with each shallow breath. But they were running out of time, he was not sure the young man could last much longer. Then just as the first stars of the evening began to glimmer softly in the night sky a glow filled the clearing and Alastair watched as his Master materialized encased in a brilliant white aura that faded slowly to reveal the figure of a tall, slender, man; one appearing older in years with a wise, calm face and silver-white hair. The Master swiveled in place taking in the entire clearing, eyes touching briefly on each detail of the horrible scene. He nodded once at the Stag, acknowledging his presence and then moved to bend down close to the body of the dead girl. He placed a hand on her cold back, his handsome face filled with both sorrow and anger. The Stag watched as his master’s lips move with words Alastair could not hear and moments later the dreadfully mangled body shimmered and was gone.  Then with a slight shift of his weight, the Master’s hand moved to Sebastian’s brow resting lightly there for only a second.  His shoulders, his entire body sagged in relief. “He is still alive Alastair,” he said, not looking at the approaching stag as his hands continued to skim gently, lightly over the young man. “I feared I would be too late.” “I feared that as well,” Alastair said, stopping close to his Master and willing himself into the same human form the older man had taken, watching quietly as some of the more serious wounds that covered Sebastian’s chest and legs began to close.   “But what do you mean you thought you would not be in time?” He finally asked, “I thought it was you keeping him alive. From the looks of him, he should have died hours go.”   The Master shook his head. “No, it was not me.  It was Sebastian’s own strength that kept him going.  And thank the Great Universal Beings for that! I did not mean to be so long, I am sorry Alastair. The council was not so easily convinced of our claim that my brother had broken the rules yet again.” “What?!” Alastair asked in disbelief, a surge of anger coloring his face. “How is that possible? After this… this…. egregious, overt act of cheating? After your brother’s countless overt acts of cheating? How could the council even consider not awarding us the decision that we asked for?”   His master sighed with weariness, rubbing a hand across his eyes. “My mother succumbs too easily to my brother’s charm and smooth words, his flattery, and lies. She cannot, or will not, see him for who and what he truly is.” He climbed slowly to his feet, glanced around the nearly dark clearing and then holding out one hand, palm facing upwards whispered softly. A moment later a small but perfectly shaped wisp of flame flared to life. It gave off both heat and light and Alastair had to resist holding out his hands to warm them. The Master smiled, “There that’s better isn’t it?” Alastair nodded. “The council, Master?”

[solarcelest]

escape route

Day #8

It was one of those horrid, much dreaded nights. The type that comes only once a month and somehow that still seems to be way too often. None of the family took too well to attending Fathers galas, all doing their best to produce excuses and reasons to warrant their absence. Most get away with it, especially Dick and Jason since the public are aware that the oldest Wayne has his own, separate life in Bludhaven and the second eldest is hardly ever in the public eye. He wished that Richard were there, he at least would wave off some of the offending hands and, unlike the unfortunate Cass, the irritating miscreants surrounding him would listen to the five foot eleven man. For now however he was there to suffer, with some of the other members of his family who seemed to have more of a difficulty cultivating excuses to escape these horrid gatherings.

Cassandra, the only official female member of the Wayne family, was absolutely adored by the press. There were more gossip magazines and new articles about his sister than Damian was able to make himself aware of (no matter how hard he tried to keep up on all the tabloids about his siblings). The public was always going on about how what a beautiful young lady she is (something Cass doesn’t particularly appreciate) and how everyone knows she will grow up to do great things for the world and about how great she is for the family.

Tim, being the CEO of Wayne Enterprises is therefore obligated to attend nearly every company event (except for the many he doesn't) and always does his ‘best’ to show.

Such a surprise he was not there tonight.

He was, Damian does have to credit him, at the gala for a brief time earlier in the evening. But, the city calls and with the Bats already short staffed and Tim neck deep in a nearly solved case, he had checked out early to go on patrol.

Oh, how envious Damian was of him. He was getting antsy, crowded into this (really not so) small room with so many intolerable people.

Damian was similar to Cass. Through the oh so innocent eyes of the public, ten year old Damian Wayne was nothing more than a poor abused child who was always clinging to his family members like shadows. Just a little kid who had been beaten and abandoned by his mother for the first decade of his life before being left to the father who wasn’t even aware of his existence.

And, well, Damian did have to give them a few points for accuracy.

The thing they didn’t have the right, however, the fact they had absolutely incredibly wrong was the assumption that Damian Wayne was cute. Which, to anyone idiotic enough to have to question that fact, was not.

Still, the rich snobs who occupied the event hall seemed to believe otherwise with how often they approached simply to coo and attempt to ruffle his still baby soft raven hair or pinch his, only slightly, chubby cheeks. Damian, who was not the biggest fan of physical contact already, disliked the constant attention from the ogling strangers and thus was his reason for tagging so close to Cassandra that night.

The two stood as they were, would probably make the front page, or at least popular photo the following day. Cassandra, who, even at her short stature stood nearly a foot above Damian, had each of her hands placed on either of shoulders. The boy was nearly rigid beneath her slender fingers, anxious from the crowd around him and the constant touching and pestering. She herself wasn’t much better but still, be older and the current big sister kept her discomfort to herself and helped to ground her brother.

They made their way off to the side, standing a ways away from the denser areas of the crowd in order to breath again. Pulling cover a chair, Cass motioned for her little brother to take a seat.

“Going to help Bruce.” She said, gesturing to where he was being bombarded with Vicky Bales never ending questions. She then turned back to Damian before pointing to the food tables not far to his right. “Eat.” She said, before sauntering off, her black dress flowing behind her.

Damian watched, more than a little jealous that at least she had something to go and do before he sighed and headed over to the food tables. He want necessarily hungry, he was trained to run in very little nutrients (much to Pennyworth disliking) but decided to at least see what was available.

Most of the items in the spread were finger foods, small sized appetizers and tapas that were meant to be grabbed and easily snacked on, not like the three course meal that was planned to come later in the night. There were a few different things though, a chocolate fountain that dripped lazily and cheese fondue. Damian sighed at both of the rather fattening choices, opting instead for one of the oranges resting in the fruit bowl.

He grabbed a dull steak knife then, the only blade near him that was not secured to his hip by a holster or tucked into his sock, resting the fruit on a plate set on the table before going about cutting it. He realized how hungry he actually was then, his stomach growling in response to the fresh smell of the fruit.

He had only altered his focused to his plate momentarily but, as it seemed, a second was all it had taken. Suddenly, all too quickly, there was a breath on his neck and a voice in his ear. It was sweet, sickly and male. The exact kind of things his father and siblings had always warned to watch for at events like these.

Bold of them to assume that Damian wasn’t always watching.

“Hungry?” Was all the voice asked. Yet the simple question carried so much weight and implied all the wrong intentions. Damian jumped, shocked by the voice and even more so by what was said. As he startled, the knife slipped, fingers moistened by the fruit juice, the handle slipping easily through them.

The blade, no longer in his control, cut down into the orange once again. But this time it was too far forward, too near his other hand and cut through the skin between his thumb and forefinger.

The cut was jagged, the blade too dull to slice evenly and blood began to seep from the wound almost immediately. Acidic oils from the citrus began to sting at the cut, causing a burning sensation to add to the pain.

Damian saw his opening.

After staring at this hands in offense, easily mistaken for shock by a bystander, he promptly burst into tears. It was humiliating, most definitely and he could nearly feel his pride dwindling on the spot, but Damian thought that was an okay payment if it meant he able to leave this wretched event even a little bit early.

Turning around and sliding past the creep, only after wiping just enough blood on the man's coat to mark the offender, Damian made a beeline towards his father and Cassandra. The buffet table, though out of the way, was still close enough to where the crowd was more congested, that numerous heads had already turned to see the source of the sound. Father was included, the man tall amongst the other elites, was brushing by them as he hurried past.

Damian met Father in the middle. By this time, the crowd had begun to form around them, interested in the cause of the scene. Damian had salty tears running down his soft cheeks and snot collecting in his upper lip. The perfect picture of a distraught child, he nearly smiled at his own perfected acting skills.

“What’s the matter, son? What happened?” Father asked as he kneeled down. Even then, he was slightly taller than Damian. Father was a large man.

Damian sniveled, offering his bloodied hand for observation. Father took it gingerly and began to gently prod at Damian’s minuscule fingers.

Damian had suffered much worse during his training and on patrol and was well aware that Father knew he was playing this up. Like, a lot. Presumably, the ‘world's greatest detective’ also knew his sons motives.

“I-I was c-cutting an orange a-and someone snuck up b-behind m-me!” He gasped, sucking in large gulps of air between his sobs, just as he had seen the misbehaved children and the park do.

Perfect.

“What man?” Father inquiered, looking around at the crowd. Damian reeled, pointing a shaking finger at the man accusingly. He still wore his suit jacket, a red swipe of Damian’s blood across the pocket, he was also turning to walk away. Only guilty men attempted to escape. Father nodded to Jim Gordon, who had been running security at that nights event, before turning back to Damian.

“I think this needs stitches.” He said, grabbing a cloth napkin to press against Damian’s hand. “Come on, we’ll go to Leslie’s.” And then, much to Damian’s surprise, Father lifted Damian by his underarms and rested the ten year old on his hip, motioning to Cassandra to follow. Damian stiffened, unused to the feeling of being held like this, of his feet dangling above the ground even though he was not in shackles. Father didn’t seem to mind though, and was able to easily support Damian’s small weight on only a single arm.

From over Father’s shoulder, Damian could see the other guests of the gala stare at the trio as they left the hall. Most of their faces held concern, some confusion at Bruce’s relatively calm hold on the rather bloody situation. Damian ceased his tears as the crowd became smaller, but hid his face in the collar of Bruce’s coat nonetheless. He never liked the feeling of eyes boring into him, of having all the attention on him when he was out as a civilian. It was unnerving, even if he would never admit it.

Bruce hadn’t said anything about the incident as they left, but Cassandra sent her brother a knowing look. Damian knew he would not be getting out of giving his sister the full run through of tonight's events later in the evening. He had a feeling he would not be in trouble though. After all, as a civilian child, a cut such as so would have them heading for the hospital whether he played it up or not. He was only staying in character acting as he was.

Father had acted well too, playing the part of the concerned parent and comforting Damian. No doubt it would be the top headline by the following morning, pictures everywhere.

Pennyworth was waiting by the main entrance for them, a gauze wrap in his hands for a temporary bandage.

Cass was looking at Damian again, a soft smile on her lips as Pennyworth began to wrap the tender cut. Father had yet to put him down and Damian was beginning to wonder why. After all, he hadn’t really been in danger and, even if he had been, Damian was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, thank you.  

But, even as Pennyworth secured the wrap and the buildings staff opened the door for them Father did not loosen his hold. And still, when they stepped into the cool autumn air, Father went further as to place a hand on Damian's back and honestly, the boy couldn’t tell whether the act had been continued for the sake of the few valets tending the entrance or, if it was simply just a dad, looking for an excuse to hold his son.

read on Ao3 instead

[hello-there]

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[koalas-koalas-everywhere]

Regarding Vulcans and autism

Since why the hell not make it a series with recognizable titles that will make it easy to look up and create links for if I ever make enough of them for it to be worth it. Disclaimer: it might be hard to understand what I’m getting at without reading the other posts since this isn’t supposed to be, like, a comprehensive analysis on how one is like the other.

Thing is, as an Aspie woman, I can see perfectly well how Vulcans expressing nothing but neutrality gets twisted in reception and interpreted as smugness/disdain, and autism (or at least Asperger’s, I am sorta more knowledgeable about one than the other) does tend to include self-awareness issues that leads to feelings of superiority and/or inferiority, and with the most recognizably “autistic” (either explicitly or through coding) being the Sheldon Coopers and the BBC Sherlock types, the assumption that anyone like them in some ways will follow in others (heck, might be why pop culture has accepted Holmes as an asshole at all, since he wasn’t that bad in the stories but he WAS smart and eccentric and every once in a while disdaindful of the people whose jobs he did better than them) is not unexpected.

The problem’s not really there because I actually have faith that we could have talked about it and raised awareness of not only this case, but also made people question why seeing a smart(er), seemingly cold but all-around just neutral characters or races made everyone raise their hackles to such a degree, assume that they’re actually mostaken about their skills (literally have seen people go “but what if Vulcans only think they’re some of the best scientists around bc they’re supercilious assholes and it’s just not true”)and wrong about life in general. Don’t get me wrong, I do get the impulse ever since Star Trek (2009), but, well, that’s just the thing, that’s where the problem is. Because we could have talked about it in fandom and be friends about it, but now there are TWO official canon sources that depict the Vulcans as intolerant, xenophobic, racist, ableist hypocrites, and not only is it harder to argue with actual canon telling you that you were right about your worst assumptions, but now you’ve seen them be actually WORSE than you first thougt, and to your faves, and in such a way that none of their positive/redeeming qualities (say, being all of that stuff sorta kinda messes up the whole IDIC thing, but it wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t doing it out out of malice, but out of ignorance and genuine misunderstanding, and if the only members who were shown to be sorta kinda decent weren’t at least partly from a different species (u.s., uh, I mean, us) and/or implied to have been influenced by a different culture) were shown. In fact, those good qualities, such as their pacifism, reverence for life, belief and respect for diversity, their curiosity and constant push for knowledge that probably wouldn’t let them just let a kid fall by the wayside becuase he was dyslexic (“there is no other wisdom, and no hope for us, but that we grow wise”), their deep attachment to their morality that’s even more important to them than to be liked by the other members of the Federation COUGH COUGH AUTISM MUCH COUGH COUGH were the first to be dropped in favour of what’s anathema to all of this, the last one in particular was turned on its head so it wasn’t that they used their logic to arrive to the most compassionate and fair choice, and it had to be logic since emotion would resist a sacrifice in a way logic won’t, making logic the compassionate choice (as they saw it, I don’t think it’s universally true, but also not universaly false), but that they were mich more willing to let people suffer and to look the other way and not be affected at all because, I don’t know, they mistook logic, which is a tool, with efficiency, which is a goal, I’d guess.

They lost the best things about them because freaking J J Abrams decided to make movies about a franchise he didn’t even like and then, even though all of it could have stayed in a parallel universe were, as many have proposed, Vulcans were worse because the Kelvin accident led people to know what Romulans looked like earlier so THEY were worse and everyone was just an asshole to each other, but then Discovery took a leaf out of his book and used his version of Vulcans and even changed old characters to fit this new version better (Sarek doesn’t disagree with Starfleet because of its bellicosity [you can’t even argue that he still disaproves of violence because he spent the worst part of the war following General Cornwell around and idk commiting mind crimes] or because he sees it as a rejection from Spock [since he says he’ll keep his distance because it’s what Spock would want and what the fuck even was that?] and he’s a cold bastard who’d take a child to a completely different culture than the one she’s used to purely for superficial beliefs and even then he’ll still prioritize his more Vulcan son, Amanda doesn’t think Vulcan’s is a hard but better way [and honestly she wouldn’t be justified to] so since she can’t be staying because of her children since they’re being mistreated, she must be doing it because of Sarek which is just so feminist, you guys, and ok, I better change topics before this becomes an “everything that’s wrong about Disco with a sidenote of everything that’s not objectively wrong but I still didn’t like”, but also, Vulcan brains can literally lobotomize themselves while dealing with trauma, don’t you think they’d take mental health seriously?) so now it’s canon in the original universe, too. Even with Enterprise (which, to be honest, I haven’t watched, I’ve only learned what was going on with Vulcans from Memory Alpha and the recounting might hace left events and/or the essence and implications of the plotline out), the tomfoolery was supposed to be Romulans infiltrating the government and twisting Surak’s teachings, all of this is supposed to be how things vecame after they got his katra back and went through the Reform.

And this got long, but the thing is: it’s not just about the Vulcans. It’s about the fact that some of the worst assumptions made about them were recognizable at least by this one Aspie as, among other things, a neurotypical’s response to an autistic trait and a long history of negative autistic coding, and now they’ve been confirmed by canon, so instead of having a nice discussion and maybe a bit of disk horse about this, we’ve gotta deal with the fact that now some people feel legitimally repelled by and resentful of Vulcans (insofar as any emotion applies to fiction) because they are now the bigots and oppressors - now it’s not a one episode race of black&white and white&black people ridiculously pointing at the obvious differences between each other, but Vulcans who have said and done bigoted things many people have been exposed to during their lives, and if they were ever willing to give them, and by extension us, a chance, now it’s ruined. I am not, of course, saying that if you hate Vulcans, especially now, you’re ableist, or that making them the Asshole^tm will turn people ableist. Just that it would have been nice to see people like me who didn’t end up justifiably despised.*

*Especially through character assassination, couldn’t you have at least made them unlikeable from the start?

[cutesuki--bakugou]

Return To Me

Ch. 5: Blood Wine Vampire, Quirkless, Victorian / Medieval Era AU

Based off of THIS AU by @vines-of-an-ivy / @aizawasbedtimestories

Genre: Angst / Romance

Rating: Explicit | Violence / Blood / Mentions of suicide and self harm / Depression / Mental Illness / Sex and intimacy

Main Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Koge Naegi (OC)

Side Pairings: Seijirou Eguchi (OC) x Dokuji Kobayashi (OC), Eijirou Kirishima x Nene Date (OC)

Seijirou took in a deep breath as he stood before the large double doors that lead to his leaders office. Intricately carved dark wood stared back at him, and the longer he stared at it, the more he noticed something new. With each new discovery, he could have sworn that the design changed completely, but he knew that it hadn’t in over five hundred years, give or take a few. The beauty of it quite perfectly described the woman that resided inside, who most likely already knew that he was there. Still, he was nervous to knock, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. Beside him, Dokuji sighed impatiently, nudging Seijirou in the side. 

“C’mon Seiji, just go. The most she could do is rip your head off.” Dokuji teased, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Or, y’know. Banish you. Lock you up to starve you for a while. The lighter punishments.” 

“Will you shut up.” Seijirou hissed between clenched teeth. “She won’t do anything to me. I just don’t want her to punish Katsuki.” Dokuji scoffed, rocking on his feet a bit. “He deserves something for being so reckless.” 

“No he doesn’t. He didn’t go to her on purpose. Whatever, I don’t have to explain this to you, you already know! Just wait here.” Seijirou left his partner behind as he approached the door, giving a few strong knocks. 

“Come in, Seiji dear.” 

After one last quick glance over his shoulder at Dokuji, Seijirou pushed one of the doors open, just enough for him to enter. “Good evening, My Lady Midnight.” He gave a low bow as the door shut behind him. “I hope I haven’t disturbed you.” The woman he addressed stood, smiling at him softly as she made her way around a large desk. “Not at all, Seijirou, you are never a bother. Please, come sit with me.” Midnight made her way over to a set of chairs that rested besides a roaring fireplace, where Seijirou joined her. Trying to hide how anxious he was, he waited for her to take her place before sitting in his own chair out of respect. 

“I apologize for coming on your feeding night, I was surprised to see that you were home.” Seijirou leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together tightly. Midnight smiled, her bright blue eyes observing him closely. “It’s quite alright, I sent Hizashi out to hunt for me today since I was feeling a bit lethargic. He should be returning soon, so I will be back to my chipper self tomorrow! But I’m sure we aren’t here to talk about me?” 

Seijirou laughed softly, turning his gaze to look into the fire. “On point, as always. My Lady��� How have you been feeling about Katsuki?” 

“Hm? Well, I think he is starting to come around, there haven’t been any incidents that I am aware of and he does very well on patrols. He fought back that whole pack of trespassers on his own the other night! I was very impressed. Why, is there something going on with him? He’s out on patrol right now, is he not?” She reached across to a small table that sat between them, pulling loose a cork on a dark green wine bottle. Carefully, she poured a thick deep red liquid into a wine glass. “Would you like some Blood Wine, Seiji dear?” 

“Ah, no thank you, My Lady. That pork blood goes straight to my head, you know!” Seijirou laughed off his intolerance to the liquid, quickly trying to get back on subject. “Katsuki does seem to be doing very well, there is just… one problem I wanted to discuss with you.” 

“His fiance that was left behind, correct?” 

“Hm… Yes.” Seijirou looked up at her, pulling his gaze away from the fire. Midnight was staring at him with the same intense look, as if she already knew what was about to be said. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Seijirou continued. “As you know, I’ve known these two a long time. Koge is… very close to me. What’s happened to the two of them is--” 

“No fault of anyone but their own.” Midnight interrupted after taking a drink from her glass. “It is Katsuki’s bad choices that led them to this point. If he hadn’t followed Izuku into the forest, none of this would have happened. They would be married, perhaps with a child on the way.” 

Brow furrowing, Seijirou gave a small shake of his head in disagreement. “I’m sorry, My Lady, but… I feel like the punishment they are both suffering isn’t comparable to his childish actions. Yes, he saw a feeding, but I feel like Toshinori acted out of line in changing them.” Midnight sighed, setting her glass down on the table. “My dear, there is nothing that can be done about that now. What is this really about?” 

After hesitating for a moment, Seijirou leaned back in his seat, crossing his long legs. “Koge saw him. A week ago.” 

“What?” Midnight’s calm expression shifted into one of intense shock, a hand coming to rest on her chest. “What do you mean? He didn’t report such a thing.” 

“Of course he didn’t, why would he? He’s scared you’ll kill her, I’m sure.” Seijirou reached up to rub his temple. “Koge was out for a walk while he was on patrol and she saw him. Apparently, she tried to get information out of him, but he kissed her to stop her questions and then he ran off, warning her not to look for him. Katsuki didn’t tell me, either. Koge came to me about it.” 

“Has she told anyone?” 

“Only Katsuki’s parents, her best friend and myself. And Dokuji. But no one believes her, and I pretended that it wasn’t possible as well. I… I think we need to do something.” 

“No, there is nothing that we need to do.” Midnight frowned, giving a shake of her head. “Let the town believe she has gone insane. She’ll be locked away and then we will be troubled no further.” 

“I’m not sure that Katsuki can keep himself away. You know what it’s like for us… When we’re drawn to a human that we can’t resist. Not only is he drawn to her scent, he actually loves her. I’m… I’m asking you to let us turn her. So she can be with him if she so desires.” 

“Absolutely not.” Midnight gave an amused laugh, a sharp snap that shut Seijirou down immediately. “I do not run a charity house. No one gets changed without probable cause, that is my rule and I will not go against it. You’ve followed that for all the centuries you’ve been with me, Seijirou. Even when you found a human lover, you left them when the time came.” Standing, Midnight picked up her glass of wine, taking a drink from it before headed back towards her desk. 

“But, My Lady, please consider the consequences of all this.” Seijirou stood, following her. “What if he goes to her? She won’t be able to control her attraction to him, and neither will he. He could end up killing her or someone could catch them--” 

“I said no.” Midnight turned to face him with a stomp of her foot, sending a threatening shockwave roaring through the ground and shaking the entire home. Seijirou was able to keep his footing, though he did hold his tongue, knowing that warning well. Although he was upset, he gave another deep bow, fists clenched tightly at his sides. “Understood. I bid you farewell and goodnight.” 

Without another word shared between them, he left the office, being sure the door shut fully behind him. Dokuji looked up at him curiously as he approached. “Seiji, did she attack you or something, what was that--” Seijirou silenced him as he cupped his cheeks, kissing him passionately out of frustration. Confused, Dokuji was still for a moment before he gave into him, clutching onto Seijirou’s clothing at his sides. When Seijirou finally pulled away, he rested his head forehead against his lovers, sighing deeply as he calmed. 

“She said no.” 

“Ah… why’d you kiss me like that?” 

“Because. We’re the lucky ones… I can’t help them.” 

“It’ll be alright, Seiji… We’ll figure something out.” 

…

“Ah, found you! I knew you’d be up here.” 

Bakugou didn’t bother looking away from the window that he had his crimson glare set on, though he did huff in annoyance at the loud greeting. “Will you shut up. Someone will hear you.” Kirishima sighed as he plopped down to sit beside his friend, resting his arms on his knees as he pulled them up to his chest. “Sorry, sorry. Is she up?” 

“No. She’s been asleep for a while, now. Though occasionally she gets up and goes to the window.” Bakugou made sure his hood was pulled as far forward on his head as he could. He had been here for hours, watching Koge’s window for any sign of her. There was an unending urge to see her, drawn to her like he was a moth to flame. Every time she opened the window to peek out, her scent filled his senses, blinding him to everything else. Though, it wasn’t just her scent that pulled him in. He still loved her, more than anything, and becoming something that was inhuman didn’t stop those feelings. In fact, he was pretty sure it was more intense. 

“Why don’t you go to her?” Kirishima asked casually, though the question was instantly shot down by a glare from his friend. Bakugou clicked his tongue. “Are you kidding? I can’t just fucking go to her, I don’t know what I’ll do or what she’ll do. No, you moron, I can’t.” 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Kirishima sighed. “Bakugou… I know I’m not supposed to be supporting interactions with humans that aren’t feedings but… You love her. And unlike you, she’s not going to live forever.” 

“You think I don’t fucking know that? Every second I’m trying to figure out a way to make this work… I thought of changing her and then we could just run away… Leave Midnight’s territory, but…” 

“But?” 

Bakugou’s brow furrowed into one of embarrassment and annoyance, like he was ashamed of himself. “I don’t even fucking know how to change her. I don’t remember how it was done to me and none of the elders will tell me. Biting obviously doesn’t work, so it has to be something else.” 

Kirishima leaned his head back to gaze up at the sky, a bit surprised with the intensity of the stars against a moonless night. “Hm… Y’know, come to think of it, I don’t know either. And I doubt that Seijirou or Dokuji would tell me. Do you think she would even want to be changed?” 

“Why wouldn’t she?” Bakugou huffed, focusing a bit closer as he thought he saw movement of the white lace curtains inside the bedroom. “If she would marry me, what’s the difference?” 

“Uh, a lifetime of being an immortal monster that can only survive by drinking the blood of humans?” Kirishima glowered at his friend, who was obviously thinking too selfishly into this entire situation. “At least you actually have a way of changing her to be like you, though. I don’t. Nene will never be like me.” He sighed, falling back to lay on the roof they were perched on. “I mean, I won’t live forever like you. But hundreds of years is still a long time.” 

“You should just tell her.” 

“I have told her! And she doesn’t believe me, she thinks I’m joking. Y’know, Dokuji told Koge about what happened to you and she didn’t believe him, either.” 

Bakugou growled softly, rubbing his face. “Fuckhead… Of course he did. Seijirou didn’t stop him?” Kirishima shrugged. “I think he wanted Koge to know the truth without actually having to tell her himself. He wants to help, but I don’t think he knows how can without upsetting Lady Midnight.” 

“She won’t agree to anything. I’m not surprised that Koge didn’t believe any of it… And that Nene doesn’t believe you. Who would? A vampire and a dragon. Sounds fucking ridiculous.” Bakugou stood, adjusting his cloak a bit as he did. Kirishima looked up at him, though didn’t sit up himself. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m… Just going to go in to make sure she’s sleeping.” Bakugou looked down at his friend, feeling his stomach bubble anxiously at the skeptical look he was giving him. “What?!” Kirishima sat up, leaning back on his arms. “Don’t mess with her. She’s been hysterical all week. If you’re going to wake her up, then you’re going to have to keep seeing her in secret.” 

“I’m not planning on waking her up! I just… Oh fuck off, I don’t have to explain myself to you.” With that, he took a step off the roof, using his new found agility and power to stealthily jump and climb his way silently to her window. As quietly as he could, he began to pry open the window, a quiet sigh of relief exiting his lungs at the fact that it wasn’t locked. The instant it lifted, her scent hit him like a brick, flooding his entire body with desire, arousal and hunger. It took every inch of his self control to not barge into the room, digging his nails into the wood of the windowsill until the initial hit calmed. 

Finding that holding his breath helped, he finished climbing into the room, shutting the window behind him. At first, he stared at Kirishima in the distance, trying to get the courage to turn around. With a wave of Kirishima’s hand in a ‘go on’ motion, Bakugou tore himself away from the window, quietly walking further into the room. Though, the instant his eyes landed on the bed, he froze, finding that what he saw was not at all what he expected. 

“K… Koge…?” 

[the-depressed-shiny-buneary]

Pokemon Next Gen (Mentally Challenged Kids): Hiroki Kengo

Hiroki is the son of Kenny and Leona. He was diagnosed with Tourette’s syndrome when he was very young, his tic is that he’ll tilt his head and say ‘Hoothoot’ at random times of the day, somedays it’ll happen a few times a day or it’ll happen multiple times a day. He personally hates his tic and wishes that he could stop it or that he had a less embarrassing tic. When he met Stella, Autumn, Frances, Pearl, Ginger, Yuki, and Alika he didn’t feel so left out since they also suffer from different mental illnesses and he was the first one to warm up to being put in a therapy group. Before meeting the others, he felt alone and thought that no one would or understand what he’s going through. After getting along with the others in his therapy group, he started feeling a lot better knowing that there were others like him, sure they didn’t have Tourette’s syndrome, but he was still glad to know there were kids with mental disorders.

His main colors are red and blue. From red, he’s fearful and intolerant of anyone who doesn’t know what he goes through with his tic, he can get angry if he someone laughs at his tic since he literally can’t control himself. Red gives him the courage and confidence he needs to get through each day and to protect his friends should they need any help, he considers red to be his lucky color and always wants to wear it. Blue represents how he’s the helper, the rescuer and the friend in need, as well as how he’s loyal to his friends and how he deeply trusts them. He can also be unforgiving and rigid, it’s for that reason he refuses to be friends with anyone other than Stella, Autumn, Frances, Pearl, Ginger, Yuki, and Alika, they’re trying to get him out of that so he can open up to others.

His Pokemon:

Hoothoot- Hoothoot was given to Hiroki when he was four years old and is Hiroki’s best friend. Hoothoot is very serious and protective over his trainer, he knows how Hiroki feels about his tic and will tilt his head and say ‘Hoothoot’ alongside Hiroki to cheer him up, Hiroki will always pet Hoothoot for doing that as it does cheer him up each time he does it. Hoothoot relies on his psychic abilities a lot and it because of that and his natural ability to tell time that he can perfectly predict when Hiroki’s tic will start and end. If he hears anyone snickering or making fun of his trainer, he will use Hypnosis to make them think they’re seeing their worst fears or peck their heads as hard as he can. 

Caught in a Pokeball.

Ability is Keen Eye.

Moves are Extrasensory, Moonblast, Hypnosis, Dream Eater, Uproar, Air Slash, Hyper Voice, Aerial Ace, Steel Wing, and Air Cutter.

Lillipup- Hiroki was given Lillipup as a support Pokemon as Kenny looked up that dog-like Pokemon are good for people with Tourette’s syndrome. Lillipup helps reduce Hiroki’s stress and anxiety by being by his side. Lillipup will often monitor Hiroki’s tic and will press against him if his tic starts getting out of control. Lillipup also helps with emotional support, he’ll get on Hiroki’s lap and nuzzle him to cheer him up, especially if Hiroki heard someone laughing at his tic. While not as extreme as Hoothoot or Ninetales, he’ll still send a dirty look at someone who makes fun of his trainer’s tic before going back to cheering up his trainer. Lillipup takes his job as a support Pokemon seriously but he’s still ready to play with his trainer and his trainer’s friends when it’s time to play.

Given in a Friend Ball.

Ability is Pickup.

Held Item is an Everstone.

Moves are Crunch, Retaliate, Psychic Fangs, Giga Impact, Howl, Return, Last Resort, Helping Hand, Odor Sleuth, and Shadow Ball.

Kantonian Ninetales- Hiroki was given his Ninetales as Leona thought that a large Fire-type Pokemon would be good for Hiroki to sleep with at night. Ninetales is a gentle and kind Pokemon, she sees Hiroki as her son and will always give him comfort and support no matter what. She does have a temper if she hears someone bad-mouthing him, she’ll raise her tails and make her eyes glow as if she will place a curse on them and she’ll watch in amusement as they runoff screaming in fear, she hasn’t actually placed a curse on anyone she just makes them think she’s about to. Much like Lillipup, she’ll press herself on Hiroki’s body if his tic gets too extreme and since she’s bigger and heavier it works a lot better, but she’ll only do it if Lillipup needs help. 

Caught in an Ultra Ball.

Ability is Drought.

Moves are Nasty Plot, Solar Beam, Flare Blitz, Will-O-Wisp, Psychic, Mystical Fire, Dark Pulse, Shadow Ball, Attract, and Hex.

[lvmiieres]

´   ･   .   ✶   ⧼    maddison   jaizani,   demiwoman,   she   &   they   /   s.l.u.t.   by   bea   miller,   clothes   strewn   around   an   otherwise   tidy   room,   worn   pointe   shoes   placed   with   care   upon   the   nearest   soft   surface.   dark   hair   pulled   back   into   messy   ponytail   with   a   pink   scrunchie,   lacy   bralettes   worn   beneath   warm   wool   jumpers   in   pastel   colors.   the   soft,   crackling   sound   of   etta   james   coming   through   on   a   floral   patterned   record   player.    ⧽   ━━   don't   look   now,   but   that's   the   coquette,   also   known   as   MARIE-RENOIR   NOÉMIE   LUMIÉRE.   i   heard   their   father   is   LUMIÉRE,   the   casanova   of   all   candelabras.   the   TWENTY   ONE   year   old   is   a   junior   at   auradon   university   and   is   majoring   in   EDUCATION.   they've   always   been   CONGENIAL   &   SAGACIOUS   &   AUDACIOUS   ;   but   i've   heard   they   can   be   pretty   PERTINACIOUS   &   INSCRUTABLE   &   ACERBIC,   too.   you   can   check   out   their   stat   page   HERE   and   their   pinterest   board   HERE.

there   was   something   SOFT   &   MOIST   about   her,                                a   dare,   a   rage,   an   intolerable   tenderness.

SECTION ONE OF THREE : BIOGRAPHY

she is the bridge between two cultures. the connecting sinew of two different worlds. marie-renoir noémie lumiére is born in the midst of her parents honeymoon period on a dewy winter morning. her father is committed to monogamy, until he isn’t. her mother is content, until she is not. they are HAPPY, until they aren’t. looking back, the fault lies on no one’s shoulders in particular. the problem lay not with them as individuals, but them as a partnership - a lesson, in it’s own way, that good friends should try to avoid that leap into romance that they thought would take them all the way. by the time that she is celebrating a year of LIFE, her mother and father have amicably split ; no hard feelings, just endless respect. custody is verbally agreed, not bitterly battled. her father can ensure the finest education, the finest things in life - summers will be spent with her mother, while the rest of the year she will call her father’s abode her home. they grow up with two languages flowing fluently from their tongue, with an appreciation for each half of THEMSELVES that few people possess in full.

the time spent with her mother is spent soaking up the sun and being the child that they are. summers are freedom, in their books, from all the expectations of the rest of the year. burdens that certainly feel like so, though they try to act as if they don’t. at home with their father, they are privately educated and expected to excel. this is fine. they can take that pressure on their shoulders with grace, they think, so long as they are always able to dance. it’s an unexpected talent. in day to day, they are clumsy - even as a child, they bumped their head and scratched their knees in an all manner of avoidable accidents. they will never be one to wear heels in fear of toppling, and so, the insistence to be enrolled with a local company after watching a performance of swan lake makes her father chuckle. he expects her to quit when she realizes that she isn’t capable of such delicate movements and graceful twirls, but six months later when he sits in the audience and witnesses her perform in don quixote, he is not able to hide the TEARS that spring to his eyes. so begins a lifetime of ballet lessons four times weekly, recitals every other month. they swiftly become one of the company’s most prized students, a prima ballerina in all ways but title. they are known to be clumsy, and they laugh along with others who poke harmless fun - but when they tie their pointe shoes on and step onto a stage, they are something different. something beautiful. something world ending.

their mother remarries. their father does not. they love their stepfather and later on, their little half siblings with all of their might - they tolerate half of their fathers conquests, though some leave truly lasting impressions. still, there is no ill will, and every christmas they gather as one to celebrate. it is strange, she thinks. this set up that they have. as they grow older, as they share details with their friends, they are told and they realize that people don’t think that it’s exactly normal. she asks her mother, one day, why she smiles so widely at the new partner on her fathers arm each year. why she isn’t hurt by his actions. why she didn’t stay. she’s genuinely CURIOUS, and her mother doesn’t treat the subject as taboo - she fixes a soft expression in place that is reserved just for her, and the words she says form a key part of noémie’s character : your father’s heart is simply too big for just one person, and mine is not. i’ll always love him. he’ll always love me. it’s no ones fault that the way we love wasn’t compatible.

they think, later, that they relate a little bit to that sentiment. that aside from natural confidence, they might just have inherited that too big heart from their FATHER, too. they’re electric. growing close to people isn’t hard when you’re a magnetic force, and noémie is never without company. she values deep connection, the most. she doesn’t think that she could ever fall for someone who didn’t know her blind. but she learns, as she grows, that she enjoys fleeting romance. even if she knows that she won’t allow it last, it is still nice to be entwined with another’s life, for a time.

SECTION TWO OF THREE : OVERVIEW

born marie-renoir noémie lumiére on february 20th, 1998, to eustache lumiére & fontaine la croix. her mother and father - good friends for years - married in the summer of ‘97 due to a medical condition known as ‘pregnancy’. they amicably split six months after noémie’s birth.

their custody arrangement involved emmy living with lumiére from september to late may, as his job and social standing assured the greatest upbringing for her. her mother took her from june through august.

no real drama, parents wise. her mother remarried and had twin daughters a few years later, and lumiére remained a player. the two continued to get along like a house on fire for noémie’s entire life, and joined one another for multiple holiday’s during the year. 

suffered from bacterial meningitis as a child, resulting in a loss of hearing in her right ear. 

expectations were rampant, but lumiére meant well. he wanted a good life for her, so he pushed her to excel. this was all well and good, given that she certainly had the capacity for it, but it has left her with a perfectionist complex in adult life.

found her first love in ballet, and has yet to really find a second. she’s one of her company’s most prized jewels, and holds the honor of being the student with the most starring roles under her tutu. her dance talent shocks EVERYBODY who knows her due to her undeniable clumsiness in day to day life, but that doesn’t really matter.

they were an early bloomer, so to speak, and this has been a blessing and curse. they’ve always been comfortable with who they are. other people have not. 

SECTION THREE OF THREE : HEADCANONS

noémie loves love, but perhaps is not as built for it as she would like. she gets a certain thrill from flirtation and she enjoys being with people. it isn’t a crime, she thinks, to date often and never truly commit. there have, of course, been those who have treated it as such. she’s not a stranger to slurs, and she knows that there are certain rumors ( some of which there’s truth to ) spread of her, routinely. but no one raised primarily by the casanova that lumiére is has much SHAME attached to who they are.

she has gone by noémie for so long, sometimes even she forgets that it isn’t her GIVEN name. she can thank her paternal grandmother for the clunky first name that she has never quite enjoyed ; she died the same week that she was BORN, missing her grandchild’s arrival into the world by little more than a day. it was meant to be an honor, she’s told, but if it was… then why did it weigh her down so much? perhaps it offended her father, in a way, but at least noémie was hers.

she had just turned four when she was struck down with bacterial meningitis. her mother thought that it was nothing but a summer flu, but when her fever began to reach unheard of heights, the PANIC set in. the doctor who saw to her insisted she be brought to the nearest emergency room immediately, and she didn’t see the outside of that hospital again until two weeks had passed. she survived UNSCATHED, at least - in a sense. single sided deafness in her right ear, specifically. her parents were told that she was incredibly lucky that she was even alive, and that they should be grateful for such a small price. they didn’t feel the way they were told they should, but they certainly passed on the sentiment to their little girl when she grew and wondered why she was not quite the same to the other kids she knew. her mother learned bsl and her father learned lsf, and she learned enough in both to make her life that little bit easier. it was by no means easy - the learning or the life that followed - but she was young and adaptable, and it served as a harsh reminder that sometimes, the world will take. in her mid teens, she underwent the surgery to implant a transcranial cros - a bone anchored hearing aid, to you and i, that provided a MARKED improvement.

she’s never actually had a relationship, completely by design. she’s never DATED. noémie enjoys flings, she enjoys flirtation, she loves sex - but she won’t put herself in a position to disappoint someone when she can’t be what they want her to be. she’s open with anyone she finds herself involved with. no strings attached, non exclusive, it’s never going to go anywhere. anyone who doesn’t listen, anyone who ends up hurt because they believe she’ll change her mind.... that’s on them.

she can be quite... vain, to put it mildly. you have to keep in mind that noémie is someone who has been set up from a young age as... a real beauty. her looks have been valued, even if she has not been. she’s aware that she’s conventionally attractive, and she’s aware that it makes her life easier in a lot of ways. it does not, however, help her to be taken more seriously in life. 

her grade point average is in the top tenth percentile, a standing she’s maintained for years. not only is she BEAUTY, but she’s also quite literally brains. 

she’s all shorts and bralettes beneath soft knit sweaters. she smells of lavender and cedar, exclusively. she’s ONLY comfortable when she’s wearing her pointe shoes. 

[hello-there]

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[imagitory]

D-Views: The Hunchback of Notre Dame

Bonjour, mes amies! Welcome, bienvenue, to another installment of D-Views, my written review series for films produced or inspired by the Walt Disney company! For more reviews for films like Enchanted, Star Wars Episode III, and Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, feel free to consult my “Disney reviews” tag, and please, if you enjoy this review or any of the others, please consider liking and reblogging! I look forward to writing more of these in the future for films like Wreck-It Ralph and Halloweentown, as well as Non-Disney films like Charlotte’s Web.

I recently put out a poll suggesting three Disney Renaissance films for possible review subjects, and although The Little Mermaid won that poll, this film ended up not far behind. (Thank you, @schifty-al and @mygeekcorner for your votes!) It’s one of my personal favorite Disney films of all time...The Hunchback of Notre Dame!

Victor Hugo’s classic novel Notre Dame du Paris, called The Hunchback of Notre Dame in English, seems like a very odd inspiration for a Disney animated family film, and that’s because...yeah, it is! When the Disney animators first brought Hunchback to the table, they were less inspired by the original Hugo novel glamorizing the architecture of Notre Dame cathedral, and more inspired by a graphic novel adaptation of the story, which was likewise much more influenced by the 1939 Hollywood film adaptation. Because of the historical context that 1939 adaptation was made in (premiering at Cannes during the rise of the Third Reich), themes of social justice were added to a story that originally was about how the “edifice” can outlast the flaws and sins of mankind. The “social justice” element is something that Hugo interestingly put more in his follow-up to Notre Dame du Paris, the epic brick book Les Miserables, but has since been similarly tied in the public consciousness to The Hunchback of Notre Dame, despite not existing in the original book.

The project was already an odd choice for Disney to take on thanks to the darkness of the book, but the political themes also were unique for a Disney picture as well. It clearly was a more “adult” endeavor, even though thanks to the success of previous projects like Aladdin and The Lion King, there were studio mandates demanding more comic relief, and even the marketing team was reluctant to advertise Hunchback as anything other than a family film. Rather than showing the artistry and darker scenes, the marketing almost entirely focused on the Feast of Fools and the gargoyles, highlighting the “Ugly Duckling” aspect added to the story and downplaying the more adult themes. In the end, it’s likely thanks to those poor marketing choices and the inconsistent tone of the picture that this movie failed to find its audience on first run. It only earned $21 million worldwide, compared to Pocahontas’s $29 million and The Little Mermaid’s $84 million, with mixed critical and audience reaction. Although it was nominated for an Academy Award for its music and won several others, it was noticeably less successful than other installments in the Disney Renaissance, and even now, Disney often doesn’t give Hunchback that much attention. Like Quasimodo, the film has been sort of locked up in its own tower...but now, today, I aim to bring The Hunchback of Notre Dame out of the shadows and give it the appreciation it deserves.

Our film begins in complete darkness, accompanied by resounding church bells and the amazing vocalizations of the English Opera Company, and from the very beginning, I’m just enveloped by the embrace of Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz’s unbelievable score. Choral music in general has always been something special in my family. My mum and dad were in choirs a lot of their lives: they even first met when they joined the San Diego Master Chorale in the 80′s. Choral music remains one of my mother’s greatest loves and passions, and when I saw Hunchback, it made the choral music my parents loved so much, which focused around a faith I hadn’t been raised with and didn’t believe in, that bit more accessible to me as a child. Mum, who studied Latin in college, went on to teach me about all of the chants and phrases Menken and Schwartz added to each song so that I could more appropriately sing along. It remains one of those Disney soundtracks that cemented our close bond, and I’ll always treasure being able to see the La Jolla Playhouse production of The Hunchback of Notre Dame with my mum and getting to hear the amazing choir and instruments live.

The Bells of Notre Dame, as an opening number, cannot be matched in how it introduces us all to the story, characters, themes, and tone of the piece. In just a few minutes, the music and lyrics perfectly showcases our setting, the theme of what makes a man, the atmosphere of fear and injustice, our villain, and our hero. Menken and Schwartz previously worked together on Pocahontas, but Hunchback in my opinion easily outstrips their previous collaboration. The use of church bells of all sizes to convey the solemnity, mystery, and grandeur of the cathedral at the center of the proceedings, and the clever use of Latin phrases -- it’s just unbelievable! As one example, in the sequence where Frollo (a judge in this version, as opposed to the Archdeacon) chases Quasimodo’s mother up to the stairs of Notre Dame and she pounds on the door, crying for help, the choir sings “Quantus tremor est futurus quando Judex est venturus,” which means, “What trembling is to be when the Judge comes.” And sure enough, the line comes to a horrible, horrified halt when Judge Frollo snatches the woman’s child away and throws her to the ground.

After one of the most epic musical introductions in a Disney film, we meet our sweet, gentle hero, Quasimodo, voiced by Tom Hulce, who is just such a ray of sunshine. Although I loved hearing Michael Arden as Quasimodo on stage, Tom Hulce will always be my Quasimodo. When I was a teenager, I went through a horrible “hating the world” phase where I only ever saw pain and suffering and felt not only powerless to make anything better, but worthless as well. During that time, I turned my back on a lot of the things that had brought me joy, feeling almost unable to enjoy them anymore. One of the very few exceptions, however, was this movie and especially the character of Quasimodo. When I was at my darkest points, Quasimodo never failed to bring me some light, not because he was particularly funny, but because for all of the misery in his circumstances, he never faltered in being gentle, creative, and kind. Looking back on how I’d been, I wish I’d had just a shred of Quasimodo’s grace back then. I wish I hadn’t allowed myself to fall into despair and resentment. Since I can’t go back, however, I keep Quasimodo in my mind sometimes whenever I’m going through something difficult. He’s kind of become a guardian angel of sorts to me, reminding me that my life is a precious gift and I shouldn’t take anything for granted. And really, I couldn’t do that if not for Tom Hulce and Quasimodo’s supervising animator, James Baxter. I truly am grateful to both of them for giving me a character that even now can be a symbol of everything I wish I could be.

Unfortunately along with Quasimodo, we also meet the gargoyles, Hugo, Victor, and Laverne. As a kid, I actually liked the gargoyles all right, but as an adult...yeah, they really break the mood. Badly. The worst offender is easily Hugo, which is a shame because I like Jason Alexander as a performer, but he just goes way too over-the-top-obnoxious. It would admittedly not be as bad if it were clear that the gargoyles were all in Quasimodo’s head, but Djali sees Hugo come to life at one point and they later help Quasimodo fight off the guards. I greatly prefer the way the gargoyles are handled in the stage production, where all of the saintly statues have their own voices that nonetheless reflect what Quasimodo is thinking and when Quasimodo hits his lowest point before Esmeralda’s execution, he forcefully banishes them out of his head.

Even though the comic relief is handled poorly, I certainly cannot say the same for the villain. Judge Claude Frollo is easily one of the most evil villains in Disney history. Tony Jay’s vocal performance is just chillingly resonant, commanding your attention and making you subconsciously shrink in on yourself whenever he speaks. It makes for a despicable, cold, cruel man -- the antithesis of a father, the true embodiment of a monster. Frollo is often compared to Mother Gothel from Tangled in how they both lie to, control, and emotionally abuse their charges (Quasimodo and Rapunzel, respectively), but I personally find Frollo so much worse than Gothel, because he not only cuts Quasimodo off from everyone, but he indoctrinates a gentle, kind soul like Quasimodo in his racism and intolerance against those different from him -- including Quasimodo’s own people, the Romani. Mother Gothel hoards Rapunzel away like a dragon hoarding treasure -- Frollo treats Quasimodo like a burden, beating into him that no one else would want him and that Frollo was such a “good man” to take him in. It’s just vile.

And now we come to my single favorite Disney song of all time -- Quasimodo’s aria, Out There. From the time I was little, this song spoke to me like few others did. Growing up, I was an only child with a huge imagination surrounded almost entirely by adults and who had a lot of difficulty relating to kids my age. I often liked being on my own, but it didn’t change how I often felt different and detached from the people around me, and as I got older, that feeling only increased. I moved a lot in my childhood, making it difficult for me to plant roots, and I rarely followed trends or popular norms, so I constantly stayed in the fringes of the crowd, enviously looking on at those who could fit in more easily than I could. I always tried to hide my insecurities, but they were still there, and when those insecurities took hold, I would often imagine the world being a place where I could be myself, just like Quasi does. Quasimodo’s longing to be “part of them” and lamentation of people being “heedless of the gift it is to be them” has always resonated with me, and even though it’s hard for me to sing Out There without shifting octaves, my heart swells every time I hear it.

The Captain of the Guard, Phoebus, is easily the biggest liberty that Hunchback adaptations have made with the original novel. The book version of Phoebus was more like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast than how he’s portrayed here, but I frankly have no complaints. Kevin Kline is wonderfully dry and witty in the role -- he’s more than a match for Esmeralda, being brave, noble, and sarcastic with seemingly no prejudice for those different from him. And then yeah, as for Esmeralda herself...as Phoebus says later, “what a woman!” Esmeralda was one of my very favorite Disney heroines as a kid, and she still is. The character of Esmeralda is often rather saint-like in her incarnations, but here we see both the “angelic” and “demonic” sides of her -- she’s fiery, but kind; rebellious, yet noble; anti-authority, but patient; distrustful, yet loyal. In the musical adaptation, when Esmeralda is first revealed, we hear Frollo, Phoebus, and Quasimodo sing this about her --

Frollo: She dances like the Devil!

Phoebus: She dances like an angel --

Quasimodo: An angel!

Phoebus: -- but with such fire!

Frollo: Such fire!

All Three: Who is she?

This is Esmeralda’s characterization and her relationship to the three male main characters in a nutshell. Quasimodo only sees the best of Esmeralda; Frollo only sees the worst of her; and Phoebus sees her for everything she is...as a person. And this is why she ultimately chooses Phoebus, unlike in the book where she solely chooses Phoebus because of his looks.

When we reach the Palace of Justice, I’m reminded that I have yet to accent how absolutely stunning every single background is in this movie. Yes, the animation overall is wonderful, whether in the character animation or otherwise, but there are few Disney films that have more atmospheric and beautiful backgrounds than this. It serves to give the movie such a wonderful depth and makes the setting feel that much richer and deeper. Admittedly one weaker aspect of the animation is the now-slightly-outdated CG background characters. They were made by taking a handful of templates and then mixing up their clothes and colors, so as to multiply them ad infinitum and make the crowds of Paris look bigger and more colorful. Even with that, though, you do sort of have to look carefully at the background crowds to notice, as there are lots of hand-drawn characters sprinkled in in front of those CG models that help obscure their repetition and awkwardness. Those CG crowds also make the city of Paris look appropriately overcrowded and huge, so I’m glad that they used the technology even if it was still so in-progress at the time.

Even though Topsy Turvy starts off so fun and festive, however, it soon devolves into a terrible riot where Quasimodo is bound and tormented by the crowd. I admit, the transition is a little abrupt, but it still works for me, as people can be so easily swept away by mob mentality and those in power -- namely, Frollo’s guards -- sometimes flaunt their authority by putting down others. Fortunately Esmeralda is there to save Quasimodo and give Frollo a much-deserved verbal smackdown. The following scene, though, is another example of the mismatched tone, stretching out Esmeralda’s escape with a lot of comic “hijinks” that don’t really add anything to the film and kind of serve as a big time waster, especially after it abruptly cuts off and turns much more solemn and sad as Frollo silently confronts Quasimodo and Quasi returns to Notre Dame in shame.

Hunchback’s focus on religion is, in my opinion, one of the things that made producing an adaptation of Hugo’s novel such a bold decision. I’m not a religious person at all (Agnostic and proud), but it was still really meaningful to me to see both the good and bad associated with religion, represented by the Archdeacon and Frollo respectively. Frollo, along with Pharaoh Seti from The Prince of Egypt, taught me as a kid that evil is not always self-aware and, more importantly, how much more dangerous evil is when it garbs itself in godliness and righteousness. That’s a valuable lesson, regardless of your religious faith. God Help the Outcasts may invoke God’s name, but it could just as easily be a prayer to the world, or even just to you as an individual. The Christian faith preaches that we are made in God’s image...so when Esmeralda asks God to help her people, maybe she’s in truth asking you to try to be the loving God they need.

Something unique about Hunchback is the wonderful friendship that develops between Esmeralda and Quasimodo. From the time I was very little, I made friends with both boys and girls, so it was so wonderfully refreshing to see a story where a girl and a boy became such close friends and supported each other so much. Yes, admittedly, Quasimodo is romantically interested in Esmeralda, but when he sees how much she loves Phoebus, he both accepts their relationship and treasures Esmeralda’s friendship all the same. He doesn’t wallow in bitterness upon Esmeralda not choosing him; he loves her all the same as the first real friend he’s ever had. Esmeralda truly loves Quasimodo and treasures their friendship too -- her choosing Phoebus romantically is never framed as her teasing Quasimodo or leading him on; she simply loves Phoebus and Quasimodo in different ways. And that I find so unbelievably cool. I also like that in Esmeralda’s and Quasimodo’s conversation on the roof, there are some strains of the deleted song Someday in the instrumental accompanying the scene -- you can hear a R&B variation of Someday in the film’s credits, but originally it was meant to replace the more religious God Help the Outcasts, only for God Help the Outcasts to be chosen over it. I agree with the filmmakers’ decision, but I still like Someday too. Quasimodo’s helping Esmeralda and Djali escape Notre Dame by climbing down the towers also beautifully foreshadows Quasimodo’s dexterity in climbing down to save Esmeralda at the end of the film.

Quasimodo and Frollo are both enthralled with Esmeralda, but as mentioned previously, they each only see the angelic and demonic sides of her, which is best encapsulated by the dual numbers Heaven’s Light and Hellfire. Heaven’s Light is appropriately sweet and pure, but I can’t beat around the bush here: Hellfire steals the show, not just from Heaven’s Light but from all other villain songs in Disney history. The song starts with a choral chant praying for forgiveness, which then segways into Frollo’s demented, mad raving about his lust, fear, and hatred for Esmeralda. The words are almost terrifying in their level of conviction and paranoia, which then devolves into vindictive, destructive mania, framed by the mournful echoes for “mercy” from the choir.

Right after Hellfire, we get one of my favorite instrumentals on the soundtrack called Paris Burning. The choir’s bustling, dramatic cries trimmed by the tense strings and horns of the orchestra just evokes fear and horror as Frollo terrorizes Paris. Then Phoebus finally takes a stand, refusing to set fire to the miller’s house and then, after Frollo does it himself, leaping in to save the family from the flames. In the musical, this whole sequence is accompanied by the amazing musical number Esmeralda (which honestly, every fan of this movie should listen to, it’s really worth it), but the film handles it unbelievably well with only a short scene and an instrumental that sears the final “Kyrie Eleison” into the audience’s ears like a fire brand.

Sadly, after this amazing, epic sequence, we once again are subjected to tonal whiplash when we return to the bell tower and the gargoyles decide to sing Quasimodo a song to cheer him up. Although I maintain Hunchback has one of the best soundtracks ever recorded, what stops it from being flawless is this song. A Guy Like You is not an inherently bad song on its own, but when combined with the rest of the soundtrack, its melody, tone, and out-of-place pop cultural references are just ridiculously jarring. It’s like we’ve been transported into a completely different movie, one less inspired by a classic French novel and a critically acclaimed film about social justice and one more inspired by Disney hits of the day like Aladdin and later projects like Hercules. As sad as it is, it’s kind of a relief when it’s over and we’re brought back down to earth by Esmeralda carrying a close-to-death Phoebus into Quasimodo’s tower.

Frollo’s arrival after Quasimodo agrees to hide Phoebus is excellent in its suspense. We can sense Frollo’s suspicion, and all the while, we’re so worried for Phoebus hiding under the very table he and Quasimodo are sitting at. Then Frollo, who we’ve only ever seen as cold, conniving, and controlled, bursts into a rage the kind of which we’ve never seen before, and for a second, he’s a demon himself. After his rage is spent, he sets his cruelest, most terrible trap yet: using Quasimodo’s feelings for Esmeralda so that he can capture her and the rest of the Romani. And at first, Quasimodo almost doesn’t take the bait, thanks to a short-lived pang of self-pity. At first he’s bitter about his heart being broken and considers not helping Esmeralda, as there’d seemingly be no “reward” in him doing so...but the feeling is quelled in seconds by the memory of Esmeralda and how much her friendship means to him. Quasimodo’s selflessness and goodness wins out in its struggle with his more selfish instincts...and this, in the end, is what makes Quasimodo a hero in my eyes.

All right, I guess with our entrance into the Court of Miracles, I should address the elephant in the room. I’ve called Esmeralda’s people “the Romani” in this review, but throughout the entire film, the term is substituted for the admittedly-period-appropriate slur “Gypsy.” I knew nothing about the Romani culture when I first saw this film and I profess no intimate knowledge of it now, but even with that, I have to acknowledge that this movie doesn’t always showcase the Romani in the best light. Although Quasimodo’s parents, Esmeralda, and (to a degree) Clopin are given relative sympathy, the sequence in the Court of Miracles doesn’t do much to endear them to the audience. These victims of persecution are not really given the focus they deserve: we never learn much about their culture or about why they’re persecuted, and we don’t really get to see how they live their lives as ordinary people. To someone who doesn’t know anything about the Romani, I don’t think this film would be the best introduction to their culture and heritage.

Our climax is accompanied by the best instrumental track in the film, Sanctuary! Whenever I hear this piece, I have to stay completely silent, drinking in every single line and note, so as to properly absorb its brilliance. The track has accompanied a lot of my writing in the past: it’s always helped me when I was writing a powerful, emotional climax, whether through the emotion it wrought from me or just from wanting to write a new scene to the music. This entire sequence, from a musical, writing, animation, and character point of view, is I think what made Disney decide to make this film in the first place. The pacing -- the character animation of Quasimodo tearing down the pillars -- the drawn backgrounds of Notre Dame -- the camera whirling over the never-ending crowd’s heads and up onto the cathedral as Quasimodo hoists Esmeralda over his head -- this is the heart of why the movie was made and what the entire film was building up to. This resistance against injustice and the protection of our sacred, historical institutions from hatred and cruelty is what Hunchback is and should be all about. Occasionally this battle scene is inter-spliced with comic bits that once again aren’t really necessary and kind of stick out (Laverne’s Wizard of Oz reference and Hugo’s impression of a fighter plane in particular are out of place), but it doesn’t ruin anything for me. Fortunately as the climax grows darker with the arrival of Frollo and the transition from Sanctuary! into And He Shall Smite the Wicked, the gargoyles take a backseat, and we get focus where we should’ve always had it: on Quasimodo, Esmeralda, and Frollo. Thanks to his love for his friend Esmeralda and the realization of his own self-worth, Quasimodo finally stands up to Frollo and breaks free of his poisonous influence once and for all. This line of Quasi’s has always stuck with me --

“All my life you’ve taught me the world is a dark, cruel place...but now I see the only thing dark and cruel about it is people like you!”

Even now this line is just so powerful. There was a point where all I saw of the world was its cruelties and injustices...but like Quasimodo, I’ve come to see that those cruelties are not inherent to the world or even to mankind as a whole. Humans are capable of both great evil and great good, but as long as the evil people of the world are allowed to seize control and exert their toxic influence over everyone else, the world and mankind overall will never become better. Like Quasimodo, we must stand against those who’ve embraced cruelty and hatred over acceptance and love. We must protect the brighter parts of the world that evil so wishes to snuff out. It’s a moral I think has only become more relevant and important over time.

Unlike in the book and musical, Esmeralda survives, and as much as I’ve heard people try to argue Esmeralda living is not true to the spirit of the original novel, I think it really suits the story being told and really feels just for both characters. Quasimodo deserved happiness; Esmeralda deserved happiness; and most importantly, this all the more highlights how different Quasimodo is from Frollo. Frollo says to Esmeralda, “Choose me or the fire” -- basically, if he can’t have her, he doesn’t want anyone else to...but Quasimodo doesn’t think that way. He cherishes Esmeralda and her friendship without any caveats or conditions: therefore him losing Esmeralda, whether to Phoebus or to death, doesn’t prompt him to commit suicide like he did in the novel. It’s not only a more uplifting ending, but I think a lesson in the selflessness of love, even if it’s just platonic love. And because Esmeralda loves Quasimodo just as much as a friend, she leads him out into the sun, where he finds even more of the love he deserves from the city he wished so much to belong in. Quasimodo doesn’t get the girl, but that was never what he wanted in the first place: it was merely to be accepted as he was.

The Hunchback of Notre Dame was one of the most formative films of my childhood, right up there with Beauty and the Beast, The Prince of Egypt, and Anastasia, and it remains my second favorite Disney animated film of all time. With time, I’ve seen more and more of its flaws, but those flaws don’t ruin what in the end is one of the most daring, revolutionary projects Disney Animation has ever tackled. Its artistry, from the backgrounds to the character animation, is exceptional; all of its major human characters are multi-faceted, complex, and real; its themes are eternally relevant and powerful; and its score and nearly all of its songs are just through the stratosphere in their quality. Hunchback, along with Beauty and the Beast, made me fall in love with France from afar as a child, a love affair that has only become more and more intense through the years, and Quasimodo and Esmeralda even now are so close to my heart. I wish so much to be as kind and gentle as Quasimodo and as brave and noble as Esmeralda, and I can only hope that at some point, if I ever visit Disneyland Paris, I might finally meet them. The Hunchback of Notre Dame may not have gotten the appreciation it deserved when it first came to theaters, but I’ll always be happy to hear Disney fans remembering it as fondly as I do. Who knows? Maybe someday, the world will be wiser and will give this film its time in the sun at long last.