#and the backstory is like: a couple lives in a big house in the countryside. they're happy. one day the husband hears about a boy

[tehuti88-art]

3/17/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "India." Ganges, with an unintentionally creepy person.

...

This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Edelgard (no last name ever given). She's a newer character who never appears in the main story but plays a big role in the history of one of the major characters. There'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

TUMBLR EDIT: Aside from one brief mention in Godfrey Klemper's updated entry, you'd have to go to my Toyhou.se to see whose name Edelgard's resembles, another character given only a first name and whose last name is never given. He's developed quite a backstory--and a future story--since I last described him, and Edelgard here plays a massive role in it, despite being long gone and presumably dead by the time the main plot takes place. Her character, despite existing only a brief time so far, has already undergone massive changes--including a sex change. (No, not within the story--originally her character was male, then I wondered how different the plot would go if she were female, and it abruptly happened.) It's yet another disturbing tale in a plot full of them, I realize, but yet again, here we go.

Let's set the scene, which is still heavily in development so may still change. In the current story, various units of the Wehrmacht which patrol the countryside often stop to rummage through abandoned houses for goods since the supply chain is frequently fractured. One of these units is PFC Klemper's, under the command of 2nd Lt. Frieder Dasch. Klemper is a child soldier who grew up dirt poor, working early on on a farm, and was orphaned young as well; he knows how to scrounge and provide for himself. So he knows, from a quick peek inside, which houses have the good stuff. Dasch often sends him in first to see if the effort is worth it. One day, the unit crests a rise and is surprised to see below them at the edge of a vast clearing near the woods not a house, but a castle--a veritable castle. Sure it's short and boxy and nothing like the castles in picture books, but still, aside from Castle Schavitz it's the first castle they've come across, right in the middle of nowhere, too. They know of no castles supposed to be in this area yet here one is! After a few moments of puzzled speculation, during which they observe it through binoculars and conclude it must be abandoned, they decide to go down and check it out. Maybe there's something good inside.

Accompanying the unit is 1st Lt. Ratdog, a sniper whom Klemper has been assigned to watch; when not busy sniping ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ he sometimes travels with them, since he and Klemper, who've grown close, are often separated for weeks on end. He's as surprised to see the castle as they are, but seems strangely dismayed as well; Klemper notices his reluctance to approach it although he goes along. No smoke rises from the chimneys, plus, oddly, the windows and doors have all been left open. Result, the elements have gotten to the place, with the interior being quite worn, damp, and unsuitable for longterm habitation. Ratdog sits on a mouldering couch in the main hall while Klemper ventures up the great staircase and the others mill around curiously. Dasch notices a large portrait of a couple in Prussian noble dress over the fireplace, but the faces have been damaged. There's an engraving in the wood above the mantel and he brushes off the dust; he reads aloud, "'Herr Herzog und Frau Herzogin von...'" but the surname is gouged out and unreadable. All he can tell is the castle once belonged to a Herzog and Herzogin--a duke and a duchess. Whoever they were, their name is now lost to history.

Upstairs, Klemper rummages through the living quarters; he finds nothing much worth salvaging aside from a child's toy--a carved wooden horse, which he tucks into his coat--but is quite curious about a pile of portraits he finds at the end of a hallway. Just dumped there after being pulled from the walls. He looks through them in the hopes of learning about who once lived here. Some of them are what appear to be family portraits--a mother, a father, two children--but, creepily, the faces of the parents are all destroyed. The children are a younger boy and an older girl with long straight hair, both of them unsmiling. Klemper tries to push down his unease though it's difficult the more he looks. As he browses, the children in the portraits get older, until finally he digs out one where the girl looks almost grown, the boy perhaps in his mid teens. And Klemper drops the portrait, eyes wide, and pushes himself to his feet. He runs back up the hall and down the great staircase to the ground level where everyone else is milling around.

Klemper stumbles into the main hall so abruptly that everyone looks at him. Dasch asks if he found anything useful; he says no, he didn't. Dasch decides that they'll sleep the night there, since at least it provides adequate shelter on a dry mild night, and they'll head out again in the morning. Everyone gets out their bedrolls and they start a fire in the fireplace, settling down to eat and talk a bit before turning in. The next day, as planned, they head out again, leaving the castle behind.

Ratdog notices Klemper giving him a furtive look now and then, but neither says anything.

It isn't until later on, when they're alone, that Klemper pulls out the little toy horse and shows it to Ratdog. Ratdog blinks and actually flinches back a bit. Klemper hesitates before venturing, "It used to be yours...?"

An aside, now. When they were still getting to know each other, and on rather poor terms yet improving, Klemper had asked Ratdog his real name. Ratdog had replied, "It doesn't matter. I'm the last, it dies with me." Implying it must be some kind of old, rare name. Klemper said, "What's your first name, then?" to which Ratdog paused but then said, "Adel." Klemper henceforth refers to him by his real name, Adel, and is the only one to do so until after the war (when most of the characters drop his wartime pseudonym and refer to him as Herr Adel).

Now...when I chose a real name for Ratdog, I don't believe I put much thought into it aside from it being German, and sounding good. I likely looked up the meaning and thought that was cool too, but it wasn't why I chose this particular name. This is my way of saying I had NO idea about this future plot point when I named him...but it worked out in an odd way.

"Adel" isn't just a name. In combination, Deutscher Adel, it refers to the old German noble class: The barons, the counts, the dukes. (Adelina Dobermann's name is from the same root word.) "Herzog," duke, is almost as high a noble rank as somebody can get without being a literal prince. The name and faces of the duke and duchess of the old castle were wiped out, but the portraits of their children, the young Herzog and Herzogin, survived. Klemper has no idea who the girl is, but despite being only a teenager in the image, Ratdog was easily recognized. Ratdog isn't just a Junker, he's the last of a long, ancient line of dukes, and that was his castle.

In one part of the story, a Nazi official offers to put together Klemper's family tree; he manages to do so from the names of Klemper's late parents and gleefully proclaims that Klemper is of pure Aryan blood and comes from "a long, proud line of peasant farmers." Klemper isn't impressed either way. Ratdog turns down the same offer. Klemper now wonders if this is why; he doesn't want anyone to know he's a duke? Ratdog asks if this changes anything between them--he's the exact opposite of Klemper, and maybe a hundred or so years ago, somebody just like Klemper would've worked his fingers to the bone on Ratdog's estate. Klemper says it doesn't matter. He's curious why Ratdog would want to hide such information, though, and why he apparently abandoned that life. Because as long as Klemper's known him, he's lived alone in the woods in a tiny stone cottage he built himself. Why would he give up a castle? What happened to all the portraits and the family name? And most of all, what became of Ratdog's older sister? For that's obviously who the unknown girl in the portraits must have been.

Ratdog is just as obviously quite reluctant to share his story with Klemper, but the two of them are learning to be honest with each other, and this is a pretty big thing to not be honest about. In bits and pieces he tells Klemper his story.

His family of dukes and duchesses had lived in the castle for generations, hundreds of years. The farmland around the estate, and the number of people working for them, dwindled more and more over the years so that by the time of his grandparents, it was pretty much just them and their son and daughter. One winter day the older duke and duchess went off hunting in the woods near the castle and didn't return by evening. A snowstorm passed through, so it wasn't until the next day that the younger duke could finally go out searching for them. He returned home emptyhanded. The only thing he and the younger duchess could assume was that they'd been caught in and succumbed to the storm. Later in the following year, he would indeed find two scattered sets of bones inside a cave in the woods where they must have tried to seek shelter, but most likely froze to death in the cold.

Now it was just the younger duke and duchess living in the castle. Although there was a distant neighbor here and there which they could trade with when necessary, aside from that they were on their own; the duke knew how to hunt, so he could provide for them, though it was quite a lonely, isolated existence. They eventually had a daughter--a new young duchess--but from an early age it was obvious something was wrong with her. She was prone to extreme violent fits which her mother couldn't handle, ending up locking her in her room for extended periods. Her father tried to get through to her when he could, but didn't do much better. He disagreed with the duchess's decision to lock their daughter away, but without anyone else to help calm her down, there was little they could do.

After several years they had another child, a son. He didn't share his older sister's violent temperament, seeming every bit a normal, healthy child, and his mother doted on him. One day when wandering the castle unattended, he discovered a locked door and managed to get inside. By the time the older duchess realized he was missing, and tracked him down to the room where his sister had been confined, the girl already had a scissor blade pointed at the boy's neck.

The duchess's screams brought her husband running and they both stood and stared at their daughter, holding their young son with the weapon at his throat. No amount of begging and cajoling would convince her to let him go, until the boy looked up at her. Unlike his parents, he was too young to understand the seriousness of the situation, and so wasn't afraid. Seeing him looking up at her, the girl let him go. The duchess grabbed her son and pulled him away and the tense standoff ended.

The duke asked for the scissor blade and held out his hand, the girl lashing out and gouging it open; when he held out his other hand, however, instead of getting angry with her, she finally relinquished the weapon. He refused to lock their daughter away again--the way she'd reacted to her brother proved, in his mind, that she wasn't entirely broken. Surely they could help her. The duchess didn't want anything to do with her for threatening their son, so he took it on himself, finding her some decent clothes, washing her up, brushing and fixing her tangled hair; before long, she looked like any noble child any family would be proud of. He tried to spoil her and pay her all the attention he could, but it didn't seem to get through to her much; a few times she would hold her arms out to her mother and make noises indicating she wanted to be picked up, but the duchess refused. A chill fell between them and they never grew close, though she did grow close to her younger brother, who would often keep her company and play with and read to her. He didn't seem terrified of her like their parents were.

Klemper stops the story and asks the question that has to be obvious by now: The only people who had been living in the castle were the old duke and duchess, and their son and daughter. The older couple had disappeared into the storm. Now, there's a new duke and duchess, and their son and daughter. "This girl and this boy, this is your sister?--and you?" When Ratdog confirms it--these two children are himself, Adel, and his sister, Edelgard--Klemper then furrows his brow and says, "Then, your mother and your father...they were...?" Ratdog confirms this, as well: His mother and his father were brother and sister, the children of his grandparents. It's never stated outright, but the implication is that his grandparents were also siblings, and who knows how far back this particular arrangement goes.

Klemper then has to gingerly ask: "You and your sister...?" Ratdog shakes his head--no, the two of them were never a couple; although they were likely expected to be, they weren't interested in each other that way. It's obvious now why he didn't want his family tree made out; he again asks Klemper if this changes anything between them. Klemper replies, "It's...odd...but odd things happen out in the country." He would know. Ratdog theorizes that this long family tradition may have contributed to his sister's fractured mental state, though he isn't sure why the same didn't happen to him. Does Klemper want to know the rest of the story? He nods, so Ratdog continues.

Despite their father's, and his, best efforts, his sister was never quite right, and the resentment between her and her mother only seemed to grow over time. Whenever Adel and his father left the castle to go hunting, his father teaching him everything he'd need to know when it was time for him to take over, this left Edelgard at home alone with their mother. The two simply tried to avoid each other as much as possible. Privately, Edelgard would confide in Adel her feelings about their mother, and they were dark ones; he tried to reassure her, but wasn't sure how. The older the two of them grew, the more strained the situation became.

One day Adel went out hunting alone--he was old enough now--while his father remained behind to tend to their mother, who wasn't feeling well. Edelgard of course remained home as well. It was late by the time he returned, puzzled by how silent the place was; sure it had never been noisy what with only the four of them there, but there should have been voices at least, or dinner on the table. He grew uneasier the longer he looked around, but there was nobody on the ground floor; so he went upstairs where the living quarters were. When he reached his parents' room, he finally found his mother, still in bed, but now drenched in blood; his father was slumped on the floor beside the bed with blood pooled around him as well. He panicked at first, trying to wake them, then realizing they were both gone--then breaking down sobbing--then gasping and cringing back when something moved in the corner of the room. Edelgard was there, her own clothes soaked red, though she wasn't hurt. She still held a long, dripping hairpin in her hand.

When he asked her what she'd done, she hadn't much answer, aside from the ever-present enmity between her mother and herself. What about their father, though?--he'd never rejected her, he'd only ever been kind. Why would she kill him, too? Edelgard's eyes grew dark when she described how he'd reacted upon coming into the room in response to his wife's screams. "He called me 'monster,'" Edelgard said quietly, and that was bad enough.

For a few moments it looked as if she would turn the hairpin on him as well, but when he didn't turn on her the way their father had, she faltered. Instead, she advised him to take what he needed, and leave the castle--"Before I hurt you, too. It's only a matter of time, anyway." Despite the horror of the situation he was reluctant to leave her, but had to do so when she started screaming at him in a rage; he hurriedly rifled through the family's belongings, fetched a few things, and fled. Over the next day or so he visited a distant neighbor who was willing to help him settle some monetary issues and trade him a few things he needed; he intended to return to the castle, but a heavy snow fell, delaying him from doing so. When he did return, he found the castle almost exactly the way Dasch's unit found it, with the doors and windows cast open, snow drifting inside and piled into corners and dusted upon furniture. His parents' bodies were gone, as well as Edelgard. After searching the castle from top to bottom he ventured into the woods, calling for her, but there were no prints to follow, nobody to be found. He lingered nearby for a bit, but nobody ever returned to the castle, and so he finally left it, and his name, behind for good.

"You never found her?" Klemper asks. "Alive or dead?" No, Ratdog isn't even sure if Edelgard is dead, though he assumes that, like the grandparents they never met, she simply wandered off into the snow. He himself wandered around a bit before picking a secluded spot to build his own home, where he's lived ever since, when he's not staying in the city. Klemper, who had previously mocked the tiny stone house more than once, refrains from doing so again--now that he knows why Ratdog built it and what he left behind--and instead asks, "Why do you think she ran away? You never hurt her, she never hurt you." Ratdog shrugs and says, "I think maybe she felt she was just too broken and didn't deserve to stay with me. Or that maybe it was just inevitable I'd end up hurting her, too."

Klemper says nothing this time. He's had a very rough life, has been chewed up and spat out more times than he can count, and although he's only around eighteen when he and Ratdog first meet, he's lived through way more awful experiences than anyone should, and it's left him bitter and dysfunctional. Although he wants more than anything to matter to someone else, all he ever seems to end up as is a victim, and by now he just assumes he's too broken to be fixed, he doesn't deserve love, and everyone, Ratdog included, will just hurt him anyway. Ratdog's proven he means it when he promises Klemper he'll be there for him, repeatedly, but Klemper's just been through SO much he can never entirely believe him. Ratdog's description of his sister suddenly hits home hard and he realizes why her story resonated with him. Although their circumstances were quite different, some of the fundamentals are the same. Ratdog's patience dealing with him and his mental instability is because he's already dealt with such a thing, in his own family. Ratdog can tell from the way Klemper falls silent and looks away that this has just struck him, yet he too says nothing.

I believe at some point later in the story Ratdog's true status somehow comes out--it's almost guaranteed for example that the SS, which keeps detailed records on everyone, has a lengthy file on him, especially since he's investigated and even briefly detained when authorities learn he didn't earn his rank in the Wehrmacht and is more of an "honorary" member than anything--and of course Dasch and his unit are surprised by this revelation. Far from it becoming a source of ridicule as he'd expected, Dasch's men seem to respect him somewhat more--he isn't quite the dilettante playing soldier whom they'd assumed he is, although not from a fighting family he's still from old German blood--much like Klemper, despite their vast difference in status--and after learning the ropes he knows how to look after himself. Dasch does take a poke at him here and there referring to him as "Herr Herzog" but it isn't intended maliciously, he grows to grudgingly respect Ratdog since Klemper does. This revelation about Ratdog's personal background might end up benefiting him or the unit at some point though I have yet to determine how.

The rest of Ratdog's plot has developed somewhat since I last wrote about him. It's complex and extended, I've likely gone over parts of it already, so I'll avoid going into minute detail and will summarize best I can. He and Klemper make plans to retire to his little stone house and live there together, away from everyone else but happy; not long after the war has ended, however, while there are still random skirmishes here and there, another German sniper takes a shot at Ratdog but Klemper, hearing it first, shoves him to the ground and is wounded instead. Ratdog brings him home and removes the bullet; they fall asleep in each other's arms after going over their future plans again, with Klemper reiterating that all he'd ever wanted was to know that he mattered to someone else: "I have everything I want." He dies in his sleep, bleeding out from the second bullet that both of them missed; overwhelmed by grief, Ratdog buries him next to the grave of his son Hans, who was killed when only a toddler. He himself is then shot while traveling in the open; his assailant this time is Didrika, a former resistance leader he and Klemper had alternated between fighting against and assisting throughout the war. The three of them had technically been enemies, but more often acted like rivals, with Didrika and Klemper tossing mocking nicknames at each other while Didrika and Ratdog admired each other's shooting skills. Earlier, Ratdog had come across Didrika's lover, Boris, mortally wounded in a ditch; he gave Boris his gun, with one bullet, so he didn't have to bleed out slowly and painfully. Didrika found his body and Ratdog's pistol, and has tracked him down to finish the job. After some back and forth, Ratdog finally snaps at her to kill him: "Go ahead, then! I have nothing left." Instead, Didrika breaks down weeping; she's mourning just the same as he is. Ratdog passes out from blood loss, comes to back in his own cottage, his wound bandaged up; Didrika saved him, unable to bear losing yet another person she knows. Technically they were enemies, but now they're all each other has left. In the absence of the ones they intended to spend their lives with, they become each other's lifeline in the years following the war.

Ratdog and Didrika aren't in love with each other--those feelings they keep for Klemper, and Boris--and they never marry. They do live together as partners, though, filling the void for each other, and have a son and a daughter, Godfrey and Tatiana (named after Klemper, and Boris's deceased sister). Ratdog's family line doesn't die out with him after all. Shortly after both children reach adulthood, Didrika falls ill, and after a time succumbs. Ratdog is finally left alone, and after so many losses--his parents, his sister, his son, his lover, and now his partner--he's barely holding on; the hurt is overwhelming. However, Tatiana tentatively informs him, on a visit, that she's pregnant; she was worried he would be disappointed in her, as she's not married herself, but Godfrey had insisted she tell their father, believing he'd understand, and that the news might help him. Indeed, Ratdog isn't disappointed in her (he'd been a single father himself), and Godfrey promises to help his sister with the baby when it arrives, so everything is well. After the birth Ratdog goes to visit at her bedside and meets his new grandson; he asks what she'll name him. Tatiana peers up at him and murmurs, "I wondered...would it be all right, would you mind, if I named him Hans...?"

Ratdog gives his blessing for his grandson to be named after his deceased son, Tatiana's and Godfrey's half-brother whom they never met. He thinks he hid his feelings well enough, breaking down only after reaching home; Tatiana's decision hits him hard, and he can't handle it. A knock at the door, however, makes him straighten himself out long enough to answer; he's surprised to see Godfrey. Godfrey is sensitive to others' emotions, in some ways much like his namesake, and he knows his father isn't doing well. They talk briefly, Ratdog assuring him he's all right, and Godfrey prepares to leave; at the door, though, he suddenly hugs his father, hard. "I want you to know," he whispers in Ratdog's ear, "I'll always love you. No matter what happens."

His words make it clear: He knows what's been on Ratdog's mind since Didrika's death, during their whole relationship in fact. It was why he urged Tatiana to tell him about her pregnancy while she had the chance. He knows Ratdog's held on as long as he was able, and this is likely the last time they'll talk. And he tells his father, in his own way, that he understands. It's all right to let go now.

Ratdog tells him he loves him and Tatiana and Hans in return. Godfrey promises to let them know, and leaves. Ratdog waits until he's sure he's gone before breaking down sobbing. His heart feels like it's been sucked out of his chest. It's felt that way since Klemper's death. He gets up and digs around in his cupboards, pulls out a large bottle. He gave up drinking years ago, as it reminded Klemper too much of his drunken father. He starts drinking anyway even though it just makes him cry harder at first--"I'm sorry, Godfrey," he sobs repeatedly, hating to break his promise to Klemper. His crying slowly lessens a little the longer he drinks, though, and he pulls himself together enough to write a short note--"I'm sorry, I tried"--which he leaves on the table, setting a glass atop it. He gets up, opens the window and leans out into the snowy air, taking a breath--it makes him shiver, but a few more drinks warm him up again, and he finally starts to feel drowsy and numb.

He opens the other windows, the door, lets the gusting icy air fill the tiny house, snow flitting in, piling into corners, dusting upon furniture. He takes the toy horse Klemper stole from the castle so long ago and holds it close. Then he lies down in his bed, shuts his eyes, and drifts away.

[Edelgard von NN 2023 [‎Friday, ‎March ‎17, ‎2023, ‏‎4:00:23 AM]]

[opheliasbrokenmind]

Hello - You could write about tommy shelby meeting his girlfriend's grandparents. Tag me. Thanks

hii, that was such a nice idea to write, thank you for sending it. i wanted to add some backstory and got a bit carried up with that, hope you enjoy that. let me know what you think <3

before reading, no grace and charlie in this and tommy is in his late 30s while the reader is at least 25,,

your parents were a young couple full of wildness and they were curious to see what life had to offer them

they were both working, some days working too hard that they collapsed to the bed. they were successful and also ready to have their seats in the london society

they weren’t planning to have a child soon but well, the pull-out trick failed and your mother realised she was pregnant

it wasn’t a complete shock to be honest, they knew they were being reckless. your dad was the happiest man on earth when he heard the news

then there you were, being the tiniest thing they had ever seen in their lives. you were such a happy and quiet baby, smiling every time they spoke to you

but after a few years, their jobs demanded much more attention and you were louder than ever, so when your dad’s parents mentioned they could look after you while they were busy, they accepted immediately

it was a few days at first, then it turned to weeks and suddenly you were basically living with them

your parents loved you dearly but they just didn’t have enough time and they didn’t want to hire a nanny they didn’t trust.

on the other hand, your grandparents were already retired and they had the entire day to spend with you.

they were wealthy enough to hire teachers to come to teach you at their mansion outside of the loud city, from history to piano, even horse riding

all those efforts they’ve spent and money they poured made you the young woman you were now, a well-qualified lady with knowledge and manners

you’d describe your childhood as a good one, maybe your parents weren’t present most of the time but they made you feel the love they had for you. not the mention all the letters and gifts

so when your grandma mentioned bringing the man who captured your heart to their country house, you didn’t hesitate. they saw how your face shined with happiness every time you brought up tommy in conversation and they knew he was the one

your parents on the other side heard his reputation but they didn’t give it a thought as long as you were happy and safe. you weren’t a teenage girl after all

meanwhile, your relationship with your relatives surprised tommy. he’d think your parents would try to make his life hell, given their place in the society but you just shrugged and giggled when he told you that

and about your grandparents... tommy didn’t know his father’s side and pretty same with his mother’s relatives, even if they were present he could barely remember them

‘what if they think i’m too old?’ he asked the day before, while you were at lunch. you responded with a soft smile, ‘they are almost seventy, tommy. and remember, they read about you in papers but still invited you, didn’t they?’

‘yeah i thought that was for having a chance to murder me tomorrow and bury me in your backyard’ you laughed with that, ‘and who’s gonna do that, grandpa? he wouldn’t even hurt a fly’

the next morning he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he tried to remember the last time he dressed that way; a comfortable white shirt, brown tweed pants and a comfortable jacket. no cufflinks, no peaky cap, no gun. he looked like a normal man, a husband who loved his wife dearly

he picked two bouquets before he started to drive to the countryside. one for you and one for your grandma, tommy was determined to leave a nice first impression

he felt free as he walked to the door, it’s been ages he walked without the burden of a pistol. one of the maids welcomed him, saying you were in the backyard with your grandparents

you were the first one to notice him, a big smile covered your face as you took in his appearance, he looked younger and happier

tommy naturally smiled while your grandparents followed your gaze and saw him as well, the great gangster standing in their garden with one of the biggest smiles they’ve ever seen and two flower bouquets in his arms

‘mr shelby’ your grandfather stood up and he was quick to offer the old man his free hand, ‘please, call me tommy’

‘oh, it’s really nice finally meeting you after listening to y/n talk about you for hours’ your grandma said softly and accepted the flowers with a warm smile, ‘such a gentleman, just like she said’

you took the bouquet as a well, tommy thought how beautiful you looked in that floral dress, his beautiful lover

the rest of the day was filled with heartful laughters and sincere conversations, your grandparents warming up to him easily

tommy thought they would be stern and sceptical but no, they treated him like a son, with love they were ready to give and made him feel like he was a part of their family

they might be a borguouise family but they were nothing like the vultures at the parliament. in the end, they were the ones who raised you, his love

[jimlingss]

Moirai [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 5k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

“Thank you for inviting me, Lady Anastasia.”   Lucienne sits across the rounded table from you, oblivious to the blossom petals that have drifted down and tangled itself into her hair. The tea party invitation rests beside her teacup, neat and crisp like she held and opened it with the utmost care.    “Yes, thank you.” The other lady beside her pipes up. “It’s an absolute honour.”   “The Royal gardens are lovely this season,” another adds. “I’m glad I can enjoy it like this.”   “It’s not a problem, everyone.” A friendly smile stretches across your face. “It can get quite lonely being the only lady in the castle, so your company is welcome.”   More like Lady Devon and your other tutors was pretty damn insistent that you build a good reputation and inner circle, but whatever. What they don’t know, won’t hurt them.   But you do remember that in the original game, Anastasia used this opportunity to shame the heroine. She invited her to a tea party and made snide remarks about how she danced with the Prince. Of course it seems petty now but it’s understandable that Anastasia resented the heroine so much. Even if she didn’t intend it, she humiliated Anastasia by stealing her fiancé.   And the fact of the matter is that you’ll also become the laughingstock for what she’ll do.   “If I may ask, have you started the wedding arrangements yet, Lady Anastasia?”   You nearly choke on your tea, sputtering for a moment until you’re able to set the cup down on the saucer and cough into your napkin. The ladies around the table appear concerned, but you plaster on another smile. “Well, there’s been no discussion yet. The Royal family and the Devereux house are in no rush. There’s still quite a bit of time, so who knows what could happen.”   “What could happen?” One of them catches on quick and you cordially nod.   “The engagement was made when both Prince Jungkook and I were very young, but now that we are older, we can voice our own opinions on the matter.” You choose your words carefully and your smile widens. “I am not opposed if changes are made. If the leaders of the empire cannot exercise their own freedoms, then how can the people?”    They nod in agreeance, a few in awe at your deep thought process. “That is very mature of you, Lady Anastasia.”   You laugh stiffly and lift your tea cup for another sip.   “Oh, but the Crown Prince is so wonderful.”   You choke. Again. You wonder if you’re going to die at this tea party from the warm liquid constantly going down the wrong pipe.    “I am sure he wouldn’t change his mind with how lovely you are, Lady Anastasia.” The girl beside you smiles, laying it on thick to win your favour. “You two are a very fitting couple.”   “I agree.” Lucy smiles softly. “Prince Jungkook is very courteous.”   “And very majestic.”   You remember when you dueled with Jungkook, he lost within a minute. He threw a tantrum in the following days and gave you the silent treatment. Or that time you went horseback riding, you decided to race each other and he fell off his own horse into mud and started crying.   Uh-huh. Majestic indeed.   You chalk up your wheeze to nothing and dab the corner of your mouth with the tablecloth napkin. “Yes, well, Jungkook will make a fine King someday.”   “And you’ll make a fine Queen,” a soft-spoken voice pipes up and your eyes connect to Lucy’s. Unlike the others surrounding you, you know her words are genuinely spoken and you shift uncomfortably in your seat.   “I’m not so sure about that,” you honestly admit as you fidget with the edge of the porcelain saucer. “A queen must be kind and generous and know the suffering of the people. I’m afraid I have a lot left to learn.”   Your gaze meets Lucy’s again.   Her smile is all too gentle for high society and its naturally cunning, heartless nature. She’s awfully naive, but that aside, you know her benevolence will make her beloved in the empire.   //   Once the tea party is over, you’re able to breathe a sigh of relief. Christ, thank god that’s over.   You escort most of the ladies towards their carriages, bidding them goodbye with polite waves as the palace servants clear the dishes, chairs and table away from the garden. And you turn around to head back to your room to sneak in a break, but your name is frantically called—   “Lady Anastasia!”   You turn and a girl in her purple, simple gown comes barrelling down the open hall. Her chest rises and falls, completely out of breath even when she only ran two meters. It makes you laugh unabashedly. “Is everything okay? You don’t need to run.”   She hunches over, lungs probably burning, but she fixes her posture a moment later. “S-Sorry, my lady.”   “Anastasia is fine.”   Lucy nods. “I...just wanted to thank you again. I was very excited when I received your invitation. It’s an honour….Anastasia.”   “There’s no reason to thank me so much.” You walk alongside her. Your hat with pinned pink peonies, matching your gown, shields the sun away from your face.   “It’s just that I don’t get invited to these sort of events often considering….considering I’m just a baron’s daughter and adopted one at that.”   She doesn’t need to tell you — you know her backstory well. You’ve played through it from her perspective. Her father abandoned her mother who died of illness when she was five and she was picked up on the streets by the sympathetic baron. It seems like every character in this game has some tragic backstory. They are defining moments that make that person.   But you suppose life itself is like that.   “Can I give you some advice, Lucy?” you ask after a quiet moment and she nods. You stop walking and the girl halts beside you. “Your humility makes you likeable, but be careful not to self-deprecate yourself. Your worth is more than what you consider yourself to have.”   Her eyes widen and you add, “Plus, it’s not good to thank a host more than once like they’ve done you a big favour because they’ll start to think you owe them for it.”   Lucy nods and you smile, resuming your stroll. “I’ll be inviting you to more tea parties in the future.”   “Thank—” She catches herself. “Yes, I will be looking forward to that.”   A grin spreads into your cheeks. “On a different note, I never got to ask you how your dance was with Jungkook at the debutante ball.”   “Oh, yes, the Prince was very kind. But I’m sorry if it was inappropriate, I know he’s your fiancé—”   This time, your laugh is unrestrained. She looks up at you in surprise. “Do you think I’m getting jealous?” Lucy opens her mouth and then closes it, not sure what to say and you bat the air with your hand. “Jungkook is like a little brother to me.”   If she was surprised before, now she looks entirely off guard. “It thought the Prince and you were the same age.”   You laugh stiffly. “Yes, we are, but I guess that’s what childhood friends are like.”   “Oh, I’ve never had a childhood friend.”   “Have you ever had a friend?” Your eyes meet her’s and you smile. “Because I’d be happy to be your first.”   The conversation soon ends and as Lucy walks away, you breathe another sigh of relief and pat yourself on the back at the positive interaction. Even if she’s just a countryside girl, it’s nerve-racking when you’re supposed to be the villainess. You like her and you even offered your friendship, but with each interaction, your demise is always lingering at the back of your head.   “I didn’t take you for being such a mentor.”   You whirl around, nearly startled to death by the voice and you discover a tall, dark-haired man leaning against the marble pillar with a sly smile.   “How long have you been there?”   Taehyung grins. “Not long. I was just passing by. It was a coincidence.” He turns in the direction where Lucy went. “I heard you had a tea party, how did it go?”   “It was exhausting.” You stretch your arms over your head and walk over to lean against the stone ledge next to him. “I don’t think I’m quite fit for the palace life.”   Taehyung smiles and you look up at him. “Are you going to the garden again?”   He nods and there’s a strong urge to ask him if you can come along. Just for a small break before they find you and you’re swept up in another lesson. But you’re not sure if you should—   “Would you like to come?”    Taehyung asks the question for you and your eyes meet one another’s.   There’s no one around. Not a soul in sight who could stop you from going or leaving.   You know you should keep your distance from him. You know. But…   “Okay.”   You take him up on the offer, following after him, just for a moment of indulgence.

With the arrival of Spring also comes the Hunt. It’s a rather eventful time in the castle considering it's generally symbolic of the harvests of this year, thought to prevent famine if those attending can bring back large game. An irony that isn’t lost on you. But it’s an undoubtedly lively time and one that you don’t mind.   “You better bring back a whole moose,” you mumble as you tie the blue ribbon on the belt of Jungkook’s armour, making sure it’s tight and secure. The ribbon is a gift of good luck and one of affection. You’re obligated to tie one for Jungkook considering you’re his fiancée.    “I’ll bring back a dragon,” he declares brazingly and you lightly scoff.   This is his second time participating after winning last year, but you remember he was practically shaking back then out of fear and pressure.   “Okay then. Just make sure you don’t fall off your horse this time.”    “That was only once!”   You take a step back when you’re done tying the ribbon. “I should be the one going on the hunt instead of staying back for idle chit chat. I’m pretty sure I would be able to catch something bigger than you.”   “Probably.” Jungkook grins. “You’re good enough with your sword to be a knight.”   “They’d never let me.” You sigh. God knows your mother would be mortified and probably faint and die.    But while staying back and waiting for the men to return with their kill is boring as hell, at least you’re removed from the pressure of having to hunt large prey in the first place. It’s a competition after all and one that can get quite competitive from your knowledge.   You follow Jungkook to his prized white horse and watch him caress its muzzle.    “If you win, you should give the prize to Lucy.”   His brows furrow and he turns his head to you. “Lucienne? The girl I danced with at the ball? Why?”   You shrug half-heartedly. “Because she has no one and I feel bad for her. I already have a few knights who are going to dedicate their game to me.”   Jungkook hums, not thinking much about it. “Fine by me.”   He puts his foot on the stirrup and swings himself over, sitting on top of the majestic horse.   Preparations almost complete, you turn to the King who’s seated at the top of the stands in a throne-like chair. He looks across the field with an approving expression.   Your parents are beside the King and you spare them a mere glance before turning away. You haven’t spoken to them since the end of the debutante ball and you don’t plan to. It might be childish to give them the silent treatment, but you wonder to what end they’ll try to force you.   The attendant steps up. “Is everyone ready?”   At that exact same moment, as if he was called upon, a familiar dark-haired man with eyes the hue of deep honey enters your peripheral vision. Taehyung emerges onto the field filled with knights on horses and soldiers in armour. His navy cape draped over his left shoulder sways with each movement, twinkling in the sunlight as if there were stars sewn into the fabric. He’s grasping onto a steel pole, a magical staff and his presence garners whispers from all.   “Isn’t he the bastard son?” — “The first son of the King.” — “The one born from the maid.”   They’re all startled to see him — the nobles sitting in the stands, women murmuring underneath their breaths, men watching with their eyes wide, knights and guards. And most of all, you’re stuck at a standstill.   Heart thunderous in your ears — blood drained from your face — you can’t look away when all Taehyung is looking at is you.    He comes close and his expression melts into a tender smile, a softened gaze when he reads your eyes’ fixation on him.    Jungkook, on the other hand, grins and mounts off his horse. “Taehyung?!” The Prince welcomes his brother warmly — an action not unnoticed by the crowds watching. He hugs him and lets go a moment later. “What are you doing here?”   “What can I say? I’m here to steal your victory.”   The younger laughs and you can tell he’s genuinely excited. Jungkook’s cheeks are practically pink and bulging, and his eyes have brightened. “Do you want to put a bet on that?”   “How much are you willing to wager?” Taehyung quips back.   “My pride and dignity.”   He scoffs playfully. “How about your private library collection?”   “Deal. And if I win, I want you to come to the feast tonight.”   Taehyung grins. “Looks like this year’s going to be difficult for you, Your Highness.”   “I’ll keep up.” Jungkook laughs again and gets back on his horse.   A stable-boy comes rushing over with a horse for Taehyung and before the King can utter a single word or you have a chance to speak to him, the games have begun. Taehyung glances over his shoulder at you for a single beat and then he’s off into the woods with the rest.    In the original game, Taehyung never participated in the Hunt.   He looked on from the window of his tower and even sabotaged Jungkook.    In the original game, Jungkook became injured but still conscious enough that before he fated, he declared he would give his prize to the heroine since Anastasia was so overbearing. It sparked the girl’s jealousy and was the reason why she decided to conspire with Taehyung. It was the first domino in the chain — the beginning of the villains working hand in hand.   But none of that is happening.   You wonder how far your choices will continue to deviate from the story. How many more mistakes—   “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   You jolt, torn out of your deep trance by a worried gaze. Lucy has leaned in towards you, her brows knitted together and you smile. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about something.” You quickly change the subject. “Have you given your ribbon to anyone yet?”   The pair of you are walking down the castle hall, heading towards the dining hall where you know the noble women will be having tea and making small talk while waiting for their sons and husbands.   Lucy shakes her head and unties the blue ribbon she had around her wrist.    “Why not?”   She stares at the soft satin for a second and then looks up at you, mustering a small smile. “I wouldn’t know who to give it to.”   “Well, you still have time to decide. You can give it to someone when they get back.” You hum to yourself. “How about giving it the Crown Prince?”   Lucy’s eyes are as large as saucers and she blinks thrice.   You’re a bit endeared with how surprised she seems at your suggestion. “Don’t you admire Prince Jungkook?”   “I...I do,” she admits quietly and peeks at you again. “But I wouldn’t want to overstep—”    “Not at all!” You reassure her. “Prince Jungkook likes the admiration. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind whatsoever. He might actually appreciate it.”   The girl smiles to herself and nods.   Evening sets in after meaningless conversations, cordial expressions and polite responses. The only interruptions are the horns that ring as each participant in the Hunt slowly arrives back.   Jungkook returns sweaty and out of breath, but with a whole moose like he promised. There are cheers and applauses, but more importantly, silent gasps when he beelines straight to Lucy to give her the prize. She blushes, a stuttering mess full of ‘thank yous’ and ‘it’s an honour’, and you discover Jungkook’s bashful behaviour at her sincere gratitude.    He scratches the back of his neck, diverts his vision, mutters ‘it’s fine’. It’s fascinating to watch considering he’s always been arrogant and bratty to you since the day you met him.   But you don’t get to observe their moment for long.   Not when the horns ring again and a figure appears over the horizon.    This time, no one moves. Truly stunned. Breaths hitched. Holy shit. Taehyung arrives back with a bear and he doesn’t even look like he’s broken a sweat.   “Wow!” Jungkook is the first to react, moving out of the crowd to his brother. He’s genuinely amazed and impressed, jaw dropped and brows shot to his hairline. “You did this?!”   “Didn’t I say I would win?” Taehyung grins languidly.   “This...is incredible!” Jungkook’s admiration for his brother causes the unsettled crowd to finally calm. It starts off slow, a clap here or there and then it’s applause, cheering and murmurs of acknowledgment.   “Has anyone ever brought a bear back before?” — “Did he use magic?” — “Why didn’t the eldest son participate in the Hunt before?”   And you know that it’s the first time people have clapped for Taehyung.   The attendant rushes forward, sputtering on his words. “T-The winner for this year’s Hunt is His Highness, Prince Taehyung!”   Taehyung wins a chest of gold, worth more than fifty commoner’s lifetimes and you watch as he bows his head as he receives it. You watch as he holds it and strides towards you. You watch until his arms have extended and a smile draws upon his features.   “What are you doing?” you ask, a whisper that’s befallen off your lips, spilled past the astonishment.    His gaze and smile never wavers. “I’m giving my prize to you.”   The crowd’s stirred to silence, watching the two of you, and you receive the wooden chest.   The attendant quickly announces the feast in the hall and servants begin ushering the people inside. But you continue watching Taehyung, your eyes connected to his, both grounded in the private bubble.   No one notices the King sitting on top of the stands, his brows tightly knitted.    //   The dining hall has shifted.   No longer are there laced tablecloths, towers of pastries and teapots from the afternoon. It’s large plates that have stretched along the surface, meats and cheese, breads and butters that have begun the feast. There are grandiose chairs all around three different tables, arranged based on importance and connections, conversations that have filled the enormous room.   The darkness of the night is casted away by the chandeliers overhead, illuminating the room in a golden hue. Yet, while each is high on the atmosphere, drunk by the wine, you can’t swallow the food down.    The tapping of utensils on glass has you looking over. The room simmers down.    By the coaxing of Jungkook beside him, Taehyung rises from his chair and clears his throat. It’s customary for the victor of the Hunt to give a speech and you’re guessing this is it.   “Thank you all for coming.” Taehyung appears unfamiliar and awkward addressing the crowd, quickly rushing over his words as if to get it done and over with. “I have never participated in the Hunt before this year and it was only because of beginners luck that I won. That—”    Suddenly, Taehyung looks right at you. “—and the support of those most important to me.”    Then, as quick as he stole his glance, he turns away. “I hope the harvests of Ashea will prosper this year.”   There’s thunderous applause and the feast resumes.   You’re overwhelmed, dizzy, the celebrations of the room getting to your head — laughter, questions, comments louder by ten decibels until it feels earsplitting.   You look over at Jungkook, finding that he has two blue ribbons pinned on his left side. He’s smiling widely, oblivious. Then, your head whirls over to your parents sitting down the table. They might have friendly smiles plastered on their features, but you can tell through their eyes that there’s seething anger. They’re unhappy, most likely with you, most likely with what happened earlier.   “Anastasia.” Lady Devon, who sits beside you, calls you out of your thoughts, disapproving at how your listening skills could be so poor.   You blink, pretending you were in deep thought about her discussion of silver forks and the corner of your mouth tugs. “If you’ll excuse me…”   After a delayed moment, she nods and you push your chair back, blurring into the massive paintings on the wall as you slip out to the terrace.   The night is cold.    Each exhale of yours is visible and you tug the soft pink shawl around your shoulders closer to your body for some warmth as you lean against the railings. You look up at the star-filled sky, finally able to calm yourself from the noise inside. You’ve always been glad that no matter where you are, what universe it is, there’s always the same sun, stars and moon. A constant.   One thing you don’t have to worry about.   “Is there something wrong?”   You know who it is before you’ve even turned around.    It’s a relief. You’ve waited all day to be able to speak to him, to be away from prying eyes and in a private moment. It’s easing. Your nerves take comfort in the familiarity, somehow finding his very presence soothing. Yet it’s unsettling at the same time. You have too many questions, too many suspicions and you don’t know if you want to uncover the truth.   But you gather your strength and face Taehyung. “I’m just thinking.”   “About what?”   Taehyung approaches your side. The warm light from inside the palace spills out and your shadows cast onto the grass beneath the terrace. There is not a soul in the hall when they’re all inside the dining hall, celebrations and conversations muffled through the many walls.   You inhale a breath. “Why?”   Taehyung frowns.   You ask again, “Why did you give me your prize?”   “Should I not have?”   Half of his face is illuminated, the slope of his nose and dip of his cupid’s bow sharp against the glow of the chandeliers, reminiscent of the chiaroscuro of a painting.   “That’s not it. Just…..” Why does he treat you so kindly, why does he want to go out of his way to talk to you, why does he look at you like that— “Why?”   In the original game, Anastasia was Taehyung’s chess piece and nothing more.   “Does there need to be a reason?” The corner of his mouth tugs gingerly. “I wanted to, so I did.”   “But there’s so many eligible bachelorettes you could’ve them them to, like Lady Myoi or Lady Paxton—”   “None of them matter,” he injects without needing to blink or think twice. “Not like you do.”   Your head snaps up and your eyes meet. Taehyung gazes at you tenderly, searching your irises with a small smile and he swallows hard. His voice lowers when he asks, “Are you cold?”    Oddly enough, even with the chilly wind whisking through the branches and swaying the leaves, you aren’t cold if he’s here.    Yet suddenly, Taehyung snaps his fingers and you’re engulfed with the warmth of an embrace. It’s the heat of a winter fire crackling underneath the mantle, the Summer sun casting down on your cheeks, and it travels from your toes to your head, and you can’t help the giggle that spills from you.    “What did you just do?”   He grins and leans closer to you. “It’s a simple warmth spell.”   Your brow cocks. “How much magic do you exactly know?”    He even managed to get that bear without looking like he had to fight. Your efforts to get him not to tap into magic all those years ago were in vain, but you have to admit it’s pretty cool.   Taehyung looks away, smile easing. “It doesn’t matter how much magic I have. It’s not enough for what I really want.”    Your breath hitches in your throat. The implications of his words welcomes the tension back into the air that had snuck itself away for a simple moment. But it isn’t uncomfortable. It isn’t the kind of tension that comes when you’re speaking to the Duke and Duchess, not the stiffness that arrived when you were being scolded by Edith. No. It’s different. It’s….intimate.    Especially when he sneaks a glance at you and you hold it, eyes fixated into his.   None of you speak, breathe, bat a lash. Not when Taehyung starts to lean in close. Not when you begin to feel the heat of his cheeks on your skin, when you can hear the thunderous noise of his heartbeat bruising his rib cage. His lash tickles yours. But before your lips can brush—   You push him away.   Taehyung stumbles back, nearly falling over, but he grasps the railings.   Your breath heaves and you stare at him in shock, in horror with what was about to happen. And before anything can be said or done, you turn away.   “Wait! Anastasia!” Taehyung calls after you. “I’m sorry!”   “I….I need to leave.”   You can’t deviate from the story more than you already have. This is a mistake.   In the midst of your panic, you return to the dining hall and cut through the room. It’s the quickest way back to your chambers, so you don’t hesitate to move your steps, never once looking behind your shoulder. Luckily, Taehyung doesn’t follow after you. He can’t.    But while each is celebrating and distracted with their company, a certain girl notices your distraught and frantic form beelining to the massive doors.   Something doesn’t sit right in her, so she immediately stands and bows her head to the woman she was speaking to. “If you can excuse me, thank you, I’ll be right back.”   Lucy follows after you, eyes pinned on your backside.   The only people who pay any mind is your mother, the Duchess of Devereux. Her senses are sharp and she taps your father on the shoulder until he follows her line of sight to the girl.   The castle grounds are dark, the moon waxing but not yet full enough to provide a bright light. But enough is shed for you to see. It’s enough for shadows to cast along the stone walls. You would never walk outside at this time of night, but you need air. More of it. Something you can breathe in and hope will clear the cloudiness inside your mind, the noise that’s earsplitting.   A gentle tap on your shoulder has you screaming.   “It’s me!” Lucy puts her hands out, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you.”   You catch your breath, steadying it and you swallow hard. “W-What are you doing outside? I thought you were still celebrating the feast.”   “I saw you walking by and I thought something was wrong and I got worried, I’m sorry.” She looks at you when the silence is ongoing. The concern is evident through her knitted brows. “Are you alright, Anastasia?”   It seems like everyone is asking you that question today.   A question you don’t know how to respond to yourself.   But you manage a nod and a smile. “I’m fine. I was just tired. I was thinking of retiring to my room early.”   “Oh, okay.”   You step towards her and grasp her hands within your own. “Can you do me a favour, Lucy, and keep Jungkook company tonight? He might be looking for me too and I don’t want him to be worried.”   “I will.” She nods. “But do you want me to escort you to your room? I could call someone—”   “No, it’s quite alright. I’ll be fine.” You smile and let go of her. “You should go back now before someone goes looking for you.”   Lucy nods for a second time and she bids you a goodnight as she walks back.   You’re left by yourself and you turn to tread your own way. The weight of so many decisions lie upon your shoulders and slow down your steps. You wonder why you have to bear the heavy burden of knowing your future, of knowing all of theirs while trying to escape your own fate.    It feels like you’re a pawn trying to control the whole chess board.   You exhale a breath, watching the cloud dissipate and unbeknownst to you, there’s a rustle in the garden’s bushes.   “That’s her, isn't it?”   Two shadows emerge from the darkness and before your ears can pick up on the noise, before you can turn around and meet the figures, a cloth is clamped over your mouth. Your shout is muffled and arms begin to drag you in the opposite direction of the castle.   What the fuc—    Immediately, your elbow juts out and the man behind you sputters, cowering over with a curse. You manage to slip out of his loosened grip, about to sprint and yell. Until another overtakes you and grabs hold of your wrists, yanking you back.   “Wench!” A cold blade sits at the juncture of your throat and you freeze, breaths tearing out of your throat frantically. You can fight him. Years of swordsmanship didn’t render you useless after all. But his threat delays you— “Shut your mouth if you don’t want Baron of Liza dead too.”   What?   Your mouth is stuffed with cloth and you’re roughly ripped into the darkness.   At the same time, Taehyung, still at the terrace and about to leave, turns around.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Reflecting Light

Chapter One

Chapter Eight

Remus wasn’t really thrilled with stopping at an orphanage.  It tied a little too close to his fake backstory for him to be comfortable.  He had no clue what he would say if someone expected him to know how they worked for some reason.  But there were apparently a ton of orphanages around that didn’t get enough food or supplies, so they had a couple as part of their rounds.

That was complete bullshit, for the record.  Remus had picked up a lot of things about his former home from his new life as an accidental rebellion member, but it was easy to say this one made him the most angry.  The food hadn’t been spectacular in The Light, but they’d always had enough of it.  Definitely enough leftover to supply a place that took care of orphaned children.

Remus spent the morning with Janus as they both organized the supplies they were dropping off.  Janus looked irritated and a little exhausted as he finished counting the last one.

“We’re gonna have to stop at home before we finish our rounds,” he said, glancing at Remus.  “We’re almost out of food, and we need to pick up supplies for our next stop.  Have you ever been to the rebellion base before?”

“I can safely say I never expected to go to the rebellion base,” Remus said with a wide smile and a nod.

Janus chuckled.  “That’s fair,” he said.  “A lot of people end up in the rebellion by desperation or by chance.”

Or by both, Remus thought, although he didn’t say that out loud.  “I would like to meet you and Virgil’s father,” he said instead.  “I’ve always wondered what kind of person runs the rebellion.”

It wasn’t technically a lie, because he had always wondered that.  Granted, there was also some context missing there.  Namely that Remus had wondered such as someone from the opposite side.

“Just don’t ask him about any embarrassing kid stories and we’re all good,” Janus said.

Remus grinned.  “I make no promises.”

Janus sighed, writing one last thing down and setting his checklist aside.  “Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud with you in the room.”

“You’re learning!” Remus called happily, following Janus out of the storage room.  They both headed back up towards the deck of the ship, where everyone was preparing to land soon.

Remus had somehow ended up with an official position that didn’t have anything to do with the actual movement of the ship, meaning if he wasn’t desperately needed no one would ask for his help.  He therefore decided that while Janus and Virgil were busy at the wheel he was going to sit next to Jackson and comment on everything he was doing wrong, which made Jackson shoot him several delicious glares throughout the process.  But Jackson was his favorite person on board to mess with (barring Janus and Virgil of course, but they were busy), so it’s not like Remus was going anywhere.

When they finally landed, Remus gave Jackson a firm pat on the shoulder.  “Alright, I have some notes, but overall, that was passable.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Oh, if you insist!” Remus said, moving like he was going to pull his pants down.

“Ugh, gross, stop!” Jackson exclaimed, but he was starting to smile.  “God, I should really know not to say that kind of stuff around you by now.”

“Yeah, everyone else does, keep up.  So you’re coming with today, right?”

“Yep,” Jackson said, giving Remus a smile.  “Only cause the rest of you are too weak to carry the boxes yourselves.”

“Oh, is that so?” Remus walked forward and scooped Jackson up bridal style.  “Well allow me to help you down to the cargo hold so you can carry all of the boxes then.”

Jackson sputtered indignantly, and Remus cackled before he dropped him straight onto the deck.  “Come on, I can grab a couple,” he said, and started down to the cargo hold as Jackson pushed himself up off the deck.

Remus beat him down there by a couple steps, and grabbed both of the boxes that had the food they were dropping off, as Jackson picked up the ones with the blankets and the clothes.  They both carried the boxes down off the ship, where Virgil and Janus were waiting with a cart to put the boxes on, since they’d have to travel a little further to reach the orphanage.

Remus set the boxes down on the seat and hopped on top of them to sit, where he was joined by Virgil a second later.

“You make me carry the boxes and then make me walk the miles to the orphanage too?” Jackson asked, looking up at them where there was no space left on the box.

“That is correct,” Remus said with a grin.  “Go talk to Janus, I’m sure you two will have a grand old time.”

Jackson grumbled in irritation, and Virgil laughed from where he was sitting beside Remus as the horse that was pulling their cart started off.

“So, this has got to be weird for you,” Virgil said as they started moving.

Remus looked at him for a moment.  “No, why?”

“Oh, I just assumed it would be a little different for you to come back to an orphanage after so many years.”

Remus swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Eh, not really.  I mean, this isn’t the orphanage I grew up in.  I’m more looking forward to meeting your father at the next stop.”

“Fair enough,” Virgil said with a nod.  “I’m sure that will be mortifying.”

“You say that so casually.”

“I’ve accepted it.”

Remus laughed.  They both continued to chat for the ride through the town and out the other side, then the little bit of distance into the countryside that ended with them pulling to a stop outside the orphanage.

Remus hopped down from the boxes and picked the same couple up again, as Jackson did the same with the other two, looking thoroughly more exhausted than Remus, which he was definitely going to be teasing him about.

Janus knocked on the door, and a second later a woman pulled the door open and gave Janus a bright smile.  “It’s good to see you sir.  I was beginning to worry.”

“We’ve been running a little behind lately,” Janus said with an apologetic smile as they both stepped inside.  Remus followed and set the boxes down in the doorway.  Jackson did the same and then turned immediately with a call that he was going to sit in the cart until it was time to leave.

Virgil walked in behind Remus and moved to lean against the wall as Janus continued to talk to the woman.

“Oh, you dears can help yourselves to a glass of water,” the woman called over to them.  “Kitchen is right through there.”  She pointed towards the back of the house.

“Thanks,” Virgil called, pushing himself off the wall and heading towards the back of the house.  Remus followed.

“Hey, Virge, do you think we should bring Jackson a glass of water?”

“I think we should, but we should hide his until he starts complaining.”

“This is why I like you,” Remus said with a grin, reaching out for the door and opening it.

There was a cry of surprise from the room and the sound of something falling and shattering.  Remus pushed the door open the rest of the way to see a kid who looked about ten years old, staring at both of them in terror.

“Woah, hey,” Virgil said, starting forward past Remus and towards the kid.  The kid scrambled backwards, away from Virgil, and kept looking between him and the glass, like he was expecting—

Oh.  Oh, Remus got it.

“Hey, Virgey isn’t gonna hit you, kid,” he called.  Virgil turned around and stared at him in surprise.  “He’s too nice.”

“What?” Virgil asked.  “What are you talking about, why would I—” he paused, and turned back around to see the way the kid was staring at him in wide-eyed fear.

Virgil’s whole demeanor shifted immediately.  “Hey,” he said softly, kneeling down.  “Hey, do you think I’m gonna hit you?”

The kid didn’t say anything, just moved further back and pressed himself into the counter.

Virgil moved back too.  “Can you tell me your name, buddy?”

The kid was quiet for another moment before he squeaked out, “I’m Thomas.”

“Thomas.  Okay,” Virgil said.  “I’m not going to hurt you, Thomas.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Well, that depends,” Remus said.  “What do you normally get hit for?  There is a standard to uphold.”

Virgil turned around again, staring at Remus like he had two heads and one of them had just exploded— shock and a little disgust.

“Remus,” Virgil said.  “Go wait with Janus.”

“What?  Why?”

“Now.”

Remus flinched at the anger in Virgil’s tone and backed out of the kitchen, seeing Virgil turn back to Thomas as he did so.

Janus was still talking to the woman, and they were looking over a couple of papers, using the boxes as something to write on.

Janus glanced up at him as Remus approached.  “No water?”

“Nah, Virgil got mad that the kid in the kitchen has been hit before.”

Janus stood up straighter.  “I’m sorry, what?”

Remus shrugged.  “This Thomas kid dropped a cup and got scared Virgil was gonna hit him.”

Janus turned back to the woman he’d been talking to, who had suddenly gone very pale.  Something in her face must have bothered Janus, though, because he immediately dropped the paper he was holding and moved towards the kitchen, the woman following right after.

Remus stared after them, not sure what the big deal was.  Yeah, the woman was probably gonna be embarrassed if she got caught in the fact that she hit Thomas, but if the kid had done something to deserve it, what was the problem?  But after a moment, he heard a lot of tight, angry words.  Oh, that definitely wasn’t going to help the kid calm down.

Sure enough, a couple seconds later, Thomas sprinted out of the kitchen and into the living room.  The second he spotted Remus, though, he backed up again and moved towards the wall as far from both the kitchen and Remus as possible.

Remus sighed.  Well, shit.

“I’m not gonna hurt you kid,” he said, holding his hands up and shifting backwards so he could move from the boxes, because if Thomas was anything like him he didn’t want anyone near him right now.  “Promise.”

Thomas didn’t quite look like he believed him, but that was okay.  Remus would just move as far away as possible and keep his hands behind his back.  He wasn’t sure what else he could do, he didn’t want to leave the kid alone right now.

Eventually, Thomas seemed to understand that Remus really wasn’t going to hit him, and he jumped up and sprinted across the room to hide behind Remus’ leg.  “Are you going to let her hurt me?” he whispered.  “I didn’t mean to drop the cup, I promise.”

Remus sighed.  He didn’t really know enough about this kid’s life to make a proper judgement call, but he did know that he didn’t like seeing Thomas scared.

“Nah, I got you, kid,” he said, patting Thomas on the head.  “Don’t worry.”

Thomas whimpered and buried his head against Remus’ back.  Remus reached his hand behind and offered it to Thomas, who held onto it and squeezed it tightly.

The door to the kitchen had been left open enough when Thomas ran out that Remus could now hear the shouting coming from inside.

“You don’t understand, he doesn’t listen!” the woman was exclaiming.  “I had enough children already before he showed up out of nowhere—”

“I don’t even know where to begin with how that’s not an excuse,” Virgil snapped.

“Virgil.”  Janus sounded much calmer, though he still sounded more pissed than Remus thought he’d ever heard from him before, which was baffling given the situation.

Thomas hid further, behind Remus’ back, and Remus squeezed the hand he was still holding.  “Hey, Thomathy,” he said.  “Do you have a favorite color?”

“I like red,” Thomas said quietly.  “Why?”

“What do you like about it?”

“Uh… it’s pretty.”

Remus nodded like that was logical, which it decently was, to be fair to Thomas.  “Good reasoning.  I like green, it looks like puke.”

“What?  Ew!” Thomas exclaimed, in a voice much less scared, which was what Remus was going for.  “Why is that your reason, gross!”

“Oh come on, who doesn’t like puke?” Remus asked, shooting a grin over his shoulder.  “It looks so delicious.”

“Ew ew ew no it doesn’t!” Thomas exclaimed, waving his hands out in front of him, even as he started to grin.  “You’re disgusting!”

“Why, thank you,” Remus said with a grin of his own.  Thomas laughed, which was exactly what Remus was going for.  He turned around and scooped the kid onto his lap, and started asking him other basic questions, like favorite food, favorite shirt, if he had a best friend.  Thomas answered with what sounded like essentially any kind of treat, the one he was wearing at the time which was coincidentally red, and no.

They talked for another couple minutes and managed to avoid any of the arguing going on in the kitchen until Janus and Virgil emerged from it.  The woman from before didn’t come with them, but Janus and Virgil both looked thoroughly ticked enough that Remus was pretty sure he got her reasoning.

“Okay,” Virgil said.  “So Thomas is going to be coming with us now.”

Remus raised an eyebrow.  “He’s going to what?”

“Come on, let’s head back to the ship.  You and I have to talk about something anyway,” Virgil said, starting for the door.

“Woah, hold up a second,” Remus said.  “I understand you’re upset.”  Still didn’t understand why, but he could work that part out later.  “But maybe we should consider asking Thomas his opinion on the matter?”

He got a confused look from Virgil, but looked down at Thomas anyway.  “Hey, kid, do you want to stay here or do you want to come with us?  I promise we’re gonna take your feelings into account, okay?”

Thomas looked like he was very overwhelmed with everything that had just happened in the last 30 seconds, and Remus couldn’t say he blamed him.  But Thomas seemed to still give the question a moment of thought before he wrapped his arms around Remus’ neck.  “I wanna go with you.  Even if you like green for a gross reason.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that,” Remus teased, standing up and taking Thomas with him, who he shifted around behind him so he could ride piggyback style back to the cart.

Virgil and Janus both gave him bewildered looks as he passed, but Virgil followed him to the cart, and Janus gave a small remark that he was going to get whatever belongings Thomas had.  Jackson was sitting on the cart when they got there, looking much less exhausted than earlier.

He sat up a little when he saw Thomas.  “Remus, why is there a child clinging to your back?”

“He’s coming with us,” Remus said, letting Thomas hop down onto the cart, and then onto Remus’ lap again once he sat down.

“Remus is gross,” Thomas announced to Jackson, as if the rest of the crew didn’t know this already.  “But he’s nice too.  I like him better than Ms. Weston.”

Virgil gave Remus another baffled look as he sat down.  “I was in the other room for three minutes,” he said.  “What the hell did you say to that kid?”

“He looked scared, so I asked him his favorite color,” Remus said.  Thomas started to fidget on his lap so Remus offered Thomas his hand, which he proceeded to play with.  “You were all yelling kinda loud, you know.  If someone’s scared of getting hurt, loud noises are not going to help.”

“What— but you—”

Virgil was cut off by Janus pushing the door open and walking out, holding a bag.  He carried it over to the cart and set it down at Thomas’ feet before climbing in next to Virgil.

“Thomas, sweetheart,” Janus said.  “Do you know if Ms. Weston was hurting any of the other kids?”

“Wait, what was happening?” Jackson asked in shock, and Virgil shushed him.

Thomas considered that for a moment, then shook his head.  “I don’t think so.  I just stress her out because she has to deal with all the other kids, so she said she needed something to be a stress reliever.”

He went back to playing with Remus’ hand after that perfectly normal sentence, but everyone else in the cart all seemed to exchange looks with varying levels of sadness and horror.  Remus wasn’t going to question it at this point.

“You don’t think she’s going to pick another kid, do you?” Virgil asked.

Janus seemed to consider that for a moment.  “I think we put the fear of God in her,” he said finally.  “Threatening to stop bringing supplies is a serious thing.”

“You threatened to stop bringing supplies because she was hurting one kid?” Remus asked in shock.

Virgil shot him another glare, but Thomas reacted to that before he could reply.  “Please don’t stop bringing supplies!” he exclaimed.  “None of the other kids did anything wrong!  I mean sure they could be kind of mean to me sometimes, but it’s okay!  I’m fine, I don’t want them to starve!”

“Hey, no one said we were going to let them starve,” Virgil said.  “We’re not going to stop bringing supplies, okay?”

“Promise?” Thomas asked, sounding so scared at the prospect that Remus was a little awed.  Damn, this kid had compassion.  Sure, he wasn’t going to accuse Shane of something horrible when Remus had done everything to deserve his treatment, but if he was given the option of letting Shane and everyone else who had ever been horrible to him starve to death… he honestly had no idea if he’d protest.

“I promise,” Virgil said, sounding a little in awe himself.  Thomas sighed in relief and took up Remus’ hand to start playing with it again.

There was a moment of stunned silence, before finally Janus took up the reins and flicked them, prompting the horse to start moving, and then turned them around towards the ship.  They made the journey back mostly in silence, after which Janus took Thomas to the ship to let him pick out a room, Jackson headed back to start preparing to launch with everyone, and Virgil grabbed Remus firmly by the arm and dragged him up to the top of the ship.

“Remus,” he said, sounding so furious Remus actually took a step back.  “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Remus blinked at Virgil a couple times.  “Do you want an actual list?  I could give you one but I’m not sure what you’re actually referring to right—”

“I’m not fucking joking, Remus.  Did you actually ask an abused kid to his face what he normally gets hit for because there’s a standard to uphold?  What the actual fuck made you think that hitting a child under any circumstances would ever be an okay thing to do?”

Remus blinked at Virgil a couple more times.  Was he joking?  He had to be joking.  But he had started that statement with “I’m not fucking joking,” so what the hell?

“Well…” Remus started, then stopped.  “Well, if a child screws up, they have to be punished, right?”

“Punishment and abuse are two very different things, Remus,” Virgil said, still sounding like he was ready to murder him.  Okay, maybe Remus was wrong.  Maybe Virgil wasn’t too nice to hit someone.  He took another step back.

“But if—”

“No buts.  No maybes, no ‘just this once’s, no nothing.  That’s a line that you don’t cross, period.  For any child.  Ever.  There is never a circumstance where hitting a child, or you know what, fucking anyone for that matter, as a way to punish them, is ever, ever, okay.  Do I make myself fucking clear?”

Remus felt like his world had tilted off axis.  Virgil’s words weren’t quite processing, but he sounded so absolutely furious and certain that Remus couldn’t find it anywhere in him to doubt what he was saying.

“I… I was never going to hurt Thomas,” Remus said weakly.  “I swear.”

Virgil must have sensed the genuineness in his tone, because he finally seemed to calm down a bit.  But he still looked firm even as he took a deep breath.  “I believe you,” he said finally, and something in Remus’ chest loosened.  “But you might want to make that clear to Thomas.”

Remus nodded, still dazed.  “Okay,” he whispered.  “I um, I need a minute.”

Virgil took another breath.  “Okay,” he said.  He took yet another breath and crossed his arms.  “I’m sorry I got so angry, Remus, I know that’s not easy for you.”

“It’s… it’s okay,” Remus said, still feeling kind of like he was about to collapse.  “I kinda deserved it.”

“I’ll tell anyone not to come up here, okay?” Virgil said, his tone significantly softer than it had been at the start of this conversation, and Remus was pretty sure this was what emotional whiplash felt like.  “No one’s gonna bug you.”

Remus nodded, and walked back to the back of the ship as Virgil adjusted the wheel to put it on autopilot, then headed back down to the main deck.

Remus sat down straight on the deck and leaned back against the side of the ship, trying to process any single one of the thoughts racing through his head.

Virgil had just indirectly said to him that what he’d gone through wasn’t okay.  That what Shane had done wasn’t okay.  But if what happened with Shane wasn’t okay, then… then… then what?  Then that made him some kind of victim?  He didn’t want to be a victim.  Didn’t want to consider what that might mean.  If he didn’t deserve to be hurt, then why was he?

Shane had seemed to have perfectly valid reasons all throughout his life.  Remus had messed up the mission, so he got a black eye as a result.  He accidentally got someone else hurt, so he got a broken leg so he could understand what the other person was going through.  He had failed his guard duty, so he had to explain what he’d done wrong and accept a worse punishment if the same thing happened again.  It was just cause and effect.  Logan would call it logical.  But now Virgil implying that none of that was okay?

Well… Remus paused.  Now that he thought about it, the idea of what he’d gone through not being okay wasn’t totally alien.  That had seemed to be Patton’s viewpoint when he first found out.  Had that been why he wanted to tell someone else?  But Patton had learned that telling someone was a bad idea, Remus had just also kind of assumed he’d learned the whole situation wasn’t as messed up as he’d originally thought it was.  But what if that wasn’t the case?

Remus sat there and breathed for a while, trying and failing to decide how to feel about everything.  Maybe for now he should just do what Virgil said and apologize to Thomas for implying that he deserved to be hurt.

He stood up and walked back towards the main deck, trying to decide how to ask Thomas to talk to him, but it turned out he didn’t have to worry about it, because Thomas was already on the main deck, and the second he saw Remus he lit up and ran over.

“Remus!  Remus!  Guess what, I get my own room!  I’ve never had my own room before, how cool is that?”  Thomas ran up to the top of the deck and started bouncing in front of Remus, beaming up at him.

“That’s pretty cool, kid,” Remus said, smiling weakly.  “Hey, Thomas, I need to apologize, buddy.”

Thomas tipped his head.  “Why?”

Remus tried to think of a way to put this.  Eventually he took a couple steps backwards and sat down on the deck again.  Thomas walked over and sat down in front of him.

Remus considered what to say for a minute, and sighed.  “I used to live with this person named Shane,” he said finally.  “And Shane would hurt me, just like Ms. Weston hurt you.  I thought that was a very normal thing, and I just realized that it might not be like, half an hour ago.  So I assumed your situation was the same.  But Virgil is right.  There’s nothing you could have done to deserve getting hurt.  Not a kid with a big heart like you.”

Thomas looked at Remus for a minute.  He nodded slightly.  “Yeah,” he said quietly.  “It’s really hard not to see yourself as the screwup, huh?”

Remus blinked.  Okay.  Yeah.  No one was ever going to hurt this child ever again.

“Yeah, it’s pretty hard,” Remus said.  He smiled a little at Thomas.  “Maybe we can try to get there together.  How about it?”

Thomas beamed, and threw his arms around Remus.  “Yeah, that sounds good,” he said happily.  He pulled back and sat himself down in Remus’ lap.  “Sorry you lived with a jerky jerk who hurt you.”

“I’m sorry you did too,” Remus said, ruffling Thomas’ hair.  Thomas smiled up at Remus, which quickly turned into a grin when Remus smiled back.

“Hey,” Remus said.  “You want me to teach you how to navigate the ship?”

“You can do that?” Thomas asked, eyes widening.

“I had this friend named Logan growing up who knew all the constellations, so I know how to use the stars for navigation.  I can show you tonight if you want to.”

“That would be amazing!” Thomas said, beaming.  “Do you know all the constellations too?”

“Oh, yeah, I learned them years ago,” Remus said, leaning back on his hands.  “I can show them to you tonight, it would probably be easier if I can actually point them out.”

Thomas seemed very enthused by that idea, and started happily talking about the one constellation he knew, which was the big dipper.  Remus wasn’t sure how he’d react when he explained that it was actually part of Ursa Major, but that could be a problem for that night.  For now he could sit and watch this child who was too adorable for his own good get excited about the stars.

Chapter Nine

[daylightdreamt]

hello everyone, i’m karina and i’m so hyped to be here and bring my baby rumor to life !! i can’t wait to get to know all of you and your lovely muses and see how everything goes down here !! like this if you want to plot and i’ll hit u up !! mwah

if you want his annoyingly long full ass bio you can read it here !!

also his pinterest board is here !!

backstory: 

rumor chastain was an accident in his family - but that doesn’t mean he was unwanted. his parents, delilah and benjamin, were more than happy to have another child after their daughter verity (who was around ten when rumor was born).

the chastain family lived on a farm in the countryside, far from the nearest town and no neighbors in sight. just the four of them and their lovely house, along with all the animals rumor affectionately named and cared for. being the baby of the family his parents ensured he took that role, never giving him any big responsibilities on the farm and rather letting him roam about as he pleased. he was a happy child, and he loved his life. he did his chores early in the morning so he could run out and see the sunrise, spend the rest of his day running up and down the hills picking flowers and finding figures in the clouds. he’d stay out there until the sunset, counting every new star in the sky until there were too many, and only coming home once his mother called him down for dinner. 

when he was old enough for school he was homeschooled along his sister verity, who taught him his abcs and how to read while teaching herself geometry. they were isolated in their country home, but rumor didn’t mind, he had everything he needed. his family was his best friends, and their property seemed like the whole wide world to him. he loved that farm more than anything, he couldn’t imagine a life better than the one he lived now. 

nothing good can last forever, and the worst part is that rumor doesn’t even know why. he just remembers waking up in the middle of the night to his sister shaking him awaking, rushing her words as she picked him up and took him to the cop car waiting for them in their front yard. she held him close as they drove into town and to the police station, and continued to hold him as he cried in her arms asking why they were there and what was wrong. they were there until sunrise when his aunt finally made it, taking verity and rumor with the news they’d be living with her now and that they’d never see that farm again

going from his quaint life in the country to a town, even a small one, was shocking to rumor. his usual routine now interrupted by an actual school, no more running around rather he was expected to sit in a desk all day with very few reprieves. at home he was always confident, outgoing, always had something to say. here he was terrified to speak, never being around other kids or knowing how to act around them. he sat in the back with his head down, dutifully taking notes on his own. it wasn’t until lunch when one student gave him a chance that the boy he always was came out. all the students crowded around him to meet the new kid, and he was so excited to talk to all of them. tell them about himself, the farm, the stories he made up and games he’d play. his happiness was quickly crushed as he was responded to with laughter. to his peers he was a freak, a weirdo with an equally weird name. that was the first time rumor chastain learned to change himself, hide certain parts to fit in. it was only a matter of time before hiding simply became erasing those parts of himself, unable to get back that full shine he once had.

his sister had dropped out of high school and gotten multiple jobs instead, saving her money in the short time they lived with their aunt. the minute she got enough money she bought them a little trailer barely able to fit the two of them and they left. it wasn’t because of anything their aunt did, they love her dearly and thank her for everything she did to help them, but they just weren’t meant for a life like that. rumor wasn’t at least, because as much as he loved to learn he hated the constraint of the classroom. he knew how smart he was, too smart for the pace most classes took. verity and rumor were always on the road, always moving, his sister finding odd jobs wherever she could. most of the time he was self taught, only going to actual schools when they stayed in one place longer than most. even then he barely went, preferring to be on his own and go at his own pace.

once he was old enough to get a job he did, wanting to do anything to help his sister out after everything she had done and given up for him. it was the least he could do, and he only hoped that one day he could do more. he graduated high school early and took some time off to keep working and be with his sister. he wanted more than anything to go to college but he was scared of leaving, crippled by the drastic change he went through as a child (and learned not to ask about) that left him terrified of any other form of change. he eventually had to get over that and leave for college, going to covington a dream for him, even if he did cry every night the first week he was there. everything was perfect there. his peers made him feel welcomed, his classes challenged him, and he even had the perfect girlfriend. it finally felt like his life was getting back on track.

personality & headcanons:

the thing two most important things i didn’t mention about rumor above are 1. his love for poetry and desire to be a poet and 2. how much of a hopeless romantic he is

rumor always loved literature but poetry owned his heart. ever since he was a kid and his mother would read him poets to go to sleep he tried to write some of his own, developing his own style over the years and finding a passion for it. he’d often visit bookstores and read whole collections of poetry while there, knowing he couldn’t afford to buy them so he memorized them instead. because of this he’s that guy who quotes poetry randomly.

rumor loves love. his entire life has been looking for love, creating this idealized version of his soulmate in his mind. love is truly the driving factor in his life, and he’d do anything for those he loves (romantically and platonically) almost to a fault or dangerous point. when it comes to romantic love he is the type to go all in, full romeo and juliet kind of guy. he wants a love to overwhelm and take over his entire life, but he puts too much pressure on this idealized love that is virtually impossible to obtain.

despite all he has gone through and how he isn’t nearly as happy and bright as he was as a child, he still tries to hold onto that happiness and optimism he once had. he sometimes struggles to do so, but he tries his hardest to keep his dreams alive and keep a smile on his face.

one of his biggest vices is that he smokes cigarettes. he’s minorly addicted and picked it up when he was around 15, and it’s become a kind of nervous tick for him to immediately start smoking once anything makes him anxious. despite this he doesn’t really drink, that’s reserved for when he’s especially sad and wants to get drunk on his own. he isn’t a big party guy but when he does go out and doesn’t want to stay sober then he’ll smoke some weed.

he’s just really sweet okay, he’s not the biggest social butterfly but he is social enough to have friends and he’s legit nice to everyone. it’s hard to find a mean bone in his body. at parties he’s a bit of a wallflower though since he legit never went to a single party until he got to covington and baby doesn’t know how to act.

rumor dresses like a writer guy like he’s the type always in autumn clothes and colors, sweaters and turtlenecks, etc.

melanie:

melanie, melanie, melanie...let’s make this quick. melanie and rumor were the picture perfect couple. they knew just how to be pda enough for everyone to know how cute they were without going over the top and grossing everyone out. they matched each other intellectually, and the best part was that melanie was the girl rumor had always dreamed about. she was the girl of his dreams, the ideal partner all his poems were about and yet...he never fell in love with her. he never did and he doesn’t think he ever could and he doesn’t know why. she was perfect, they were perfect, but there just wasn’t that thing that made it different. they didn’t have that passion, that moxie that every great couple had. he wanted a love that he couldn’t stand to live without, and he just didn’t have that with melanie. he never had the guts to break up with her, and now he didn’t need to.

wc’s: 

listen i’m shit with pre wc so here’s some basics

roommates !! ones who get along or don’t either way is fun

friends !! likely ones, unlikely ones, bad influences, ex friends, etc

lil stoner group cuz like he ain’t a full stoner but sometimes he needs that good good shit and needs his lil stoner friends he can call up and smoke up with

[getaandlucius]

EVERGREEN LOVE, part 8

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Summary; You have some free time from uni so you visit your parents who live in gloucestshire for a week and study for your upcoming finals. When you get back to London it has started to snow. After your last final,  adventure with Rog awaits you!

I strongly suggest listening to the pride and prejudice soundtrack  ‘The living sculptures of Pemberly “ as it matches the tone of this part perfectly.  

wordcount; 1,9k

Warnings; fluff

Disclamer; I wanted to give reader a bit of a backstory, but if you want to keep reader neutral, I suggest skipping to the last part (under the -----line)! Thanks for reading y’all! Tell me what you think! Request are Always open! :) 

‘Can you tell mom I’ll come home this Tuesday?’

You were on the phone with your younger sister Mia who still lived at home. It was Friday evening and you were sitting in the windowsill of the library with your knees pulled up, talking quietly to prevent people from getting angry.

‘Sure thing. Having dinner with us too?’

‘Yeah I think so, yes. Will Jane be home too?’ Jane was your older sister and studied English Literature at Cambridge.

‘Not sure, I’ll ask mom.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No prob. Glad you’re coming home Y/N, we missed you.’

‘Missed you too sis.’ You looked through the window over the courtyard of the library. It was minus 5 degrees outside and it would get even colder over the weekend. You looked forward to going home. You truthfully had missed them a whole lot, having seen your family far too little in the past couple of months.

Your parents lived in the Glaucestshire countryside, twenty minutes out of town and it was honestly the calmest place on earth, especially compared to crazy London. You could study undisturbed in your room overlooking the fields and help your mom making the garden ready for spring. You were yearning for some time away from the chaos and also some time away from Roger.  

You had seen him at class earlier today. He was late for the lecture and stumbled in while muttering apologies to the teacher. He then sat next to you and gave you a tired smile.

‘So how was the date?’ You asked

‘Splendid. Great fun.’ He answered, then leaned over you to read your notes, face close to the paper. ‘What is it about?’ He tried switching to a different subject.

‘Photosynthetic electron transport.’ You answered, tagging along and dropping the Christina thing.

 You wondered if they would start dating properly now or if it was just a one time thing. Either way you were glad you could spent some time away from it all. You had finals in a week and couldn’t use any distraction. Especially not from the worst distraction of all.

 That Tuesday morning you packed your suitcase with some essentials and said goodbye to Ally and Sam.

‘If Rog calls, can you tell him I’m at my parents and I’ll be back for finals?’ You asked, just in case.

‘Sure thing babes.’ Ally answered and hugged you goodbye. You then took your suitcase and headed to the train station.

It was freezing cold and you were glad you were wearing a thick parka and knitted hat, but cursed at forgetting to take gloves as your hands were icy-cold. You blew little white clouds in the air while you waited for the train to arrive.

When it did you walked to second class and sat down in a small four-seat compartment next to the window. You put your bag next to you on the seat and made yourself comfortable for the three-hour trip. You loved train rides, always had. When you were little your dad would take you and your sisters out for little trips to villages across the country. Those were the days of building campfires from driftwood at the shore and camping out in the wild. But also the days of being stuck in swamps and wanting to go home. Days of excitement and days of tears.

    When you arrived at Bibury your mom picked you up.

‘Hi sweatheart.’ She gave you a hug and helped you carry your suitcase to the car. Mia was in the backseat and wrapped her arms around you when you sat down in front.

‘Ahh you smell so good! What are you wearing? Is it new?’

‘Yes, it’s Yves-Saint-Laurent.’

‘Can I borrow it?’ She asked cheerful.

‘Steal it, you mean? Sure but I don’t have it with me so you’ll have to come to London.’ You said smiling.

Mia groaned and let you go form her grip. ‘Ugh, alright…’

‘Sorry Mia.’

‘No boys to impress here huh?’ She jokingly added, not knowing there was truth in her words. You rolled your eyes at her, just like when you were younger. Some things just never changed. 

    It was a short drive to the house and Mia chatted away from the backseat about a winter ball at school and her dress and how Jane was coming home tomorrow and how glad she was you’d all be together again. 

    When you arrived at the house and the car-engine was turned off the silence was almost overwhelming. There was no sound apart from  that of nature and you had forgotten what it felt like.

You carried your suitcase to the porch and took a moment to look out over the fields. Everything was sober, from the white walls of the house to the fields and the empty garden. The white formed a big contrast with the forest behind it and you realized how much you had missed the place.

‘Your dad is  in the back chopping wood, go say hi.’ Your mom said and pointed her chin to the side of the porch. ‘Oh and tell him dinner is ready in an hour.’

You nodded and walked around the house, indeed hearing the sound of an ax hitting wood in a controlled manner.

‘Hi dad.’ You said and waited for him to stop chopping before you came closer.

‘Hi sweetheart!’ His face lit up. You really had been away for far too long, you felt as if he looked older than you remembered.

‘Dinner is ready in an hour, need help?’

‘Help me carry in a bit?’ He said and gave you a smile.

 That evening you spent catching up with your parents and sister. Your mom made soup and fresh baked bread and you talked about life in London and university. You also talked about your friends but chose your words carefully not in the mood to talk about Roger.

 The rest of the week you spent working in the garden and studying in your room. Your sister had come home but you hadn’t talked to her properly yet when she knocked on your door one evening.

‘Hey, how’s studying going?’

You shrugged. ‘Can’t concentrate.’

‘Feel like having a sleepover in Mia’s room?’

‘Ah I could’ve predicted she wanted one of those.’ You said.

‘Not to get out of.’ Jane said and laughed. ‘Come I’ll help you carry your sleeping stuff to her room.’

    That night you spent in Mia’s room braiding each-others hair and talking about boys.

‘How is Charlie?’ Mia asked Jane.

‘Ah, we broke up like three weeks ago.’

‘Why?’

‘He… cheated.’ She said quietly and shrugged.

‘Oh shit. That really sucks.’ You said, surprised they weren’t together anymore.

‘Yeah it does, but I’m okay really, I wasn’t that in love with him anymore anyway. He turned out to be pretty…’ She stopped to look for the right word. ‘…Boring.’

‘Yeah I never liked him, Jane.’ Mia said.

‘I know you didn’t sis.’ Jane said and threw her a meaningful look. ‘So we’re all single girls now then huh?’ She added with a melancholy smile. ‘Unless…. Our mysterious sister Y/N has a secret lover.’ She looked at you expectantly, eyes twinkling.

‘I don’t. Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘So where’s your mind then? You seem so distracted.’

You sighed. Jane had always been able to read through you.

You decided to just be honest. ‘You remember Roger right?’

‘Of course, the bambi boy?’

‘Bambi boy?’

‘Yes, because of his big eyes. Bamboy.’

‘Yeah right… that one.’ You said, then continued. ‘You know, I try really hard to not think of him and focus on my finals and understanding the processes in prokaryotic and eukaryotic cells, but all I end up thinking about is how beautiful Rogers hands are.’

‘Well I can see why.’ Mia said. ‘That sounds bloody boring.’ You laughed but Jane’s face turned serious.

‘Roger is in that band right, smile?’

‘Yeah.’

‘You are not in love with him, are you?’

‘No I am not.’ You said. ‘But I could be. Oh Jane, I really could be.’ You noticed there was a longing in your voice.

‘So why don’t you let yourself fall in love with him?’

‘Because… he doesn’t love me back and he can be a really arrogant self-righteous prick sometimes.’

‘How do you know he doesn’t love you back.’

‘He doesn’t act like it, not in a romantic love kind-a-way anyway.’ You said. ‘And he’s dating a girl now. A really pretty one.’

‘Well you are very pretty too you know.’ Mia said. You smiled but shook your head a little. ‘I’m afraid that if I fall in love with him, and even if we end up dating, he will crush my heart by falling for a different girl in a heartbeat.’

‘You know,’ Jane started and shifted her weight so she was lying next to you. ‘I’ve only met him once at that garden party of yours last May, but he seems very, very fond of you.’

‘He does huh.’

‘Yes!’

‘Hm.’

‘I think you should consider telling him. It’s worth the risk don’t you think?’

‘The stakes are pretty high, I might lose my best friend.’

‘Yes, or you’ll gain a love of a lifetime.’

‘I don’t know.’ You said, your heart racing at the thought of having to tell him. You were too afraid to lose him.

 After the weekend you had to get back to London to take your exams and hugged your sisters and parents goodbye. 

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

Sitting in the train you looked out of the window, lost in thought. It was still incredibly early, the golden morning sun barely giving off any warmth. Your warm breath made a white haze on the window and without thinking you bended forward and pressed your lips to the cold glass. You wondered what Rogers lips would feel like and felt rosy by the thought of kissing him.

When you arrived in London you rushed to university to take your first exam.

The following days were filled with late night studying and more finals and you were glad when it was Friday and the last one had arrived. It had started snowing that morning. Thick snowflakes came falling from the sky and wrapped London in a thin white blanket, getting thicker by the second.

It muted every sound and it was completely silent in the exam hall apart from the sound of turning paper and sniffling and coughing.

You hadn’t talked to Roger over two weeks now, having only seen him once that week at an exam on a subject that you shared. He followed a different major which gave you partly different courses so it wasn’t strange you hadn’t seen that much of him. You had missed talking to him though.

You looked at the clock. Two hours left. You turned back to your paper, focusing on the questions.

When you were finally done you handed it in, a feeling of relieve came washing over you.

 You walked out and went looking for your jacket when you suddenly saw him. 

Roger. 

He was leaning to the opposite wall, wearing a huge jacket and a red knitted hat, completely covered in snow. He smiled brightly.

‘Hi love. Up for an adventure?’

‘Hi Rog. Always.’

‘Good. We’re waiting outside with the van. It’s time you met Freddie.’

He slung his arm around you and pulled you in for a side-hug.

 ‘We’re going on a roadtrip babe.’ 

TO BE CONTINUED

previous part, next part

taglist; @fics-for-my-heart, @midnightloversville, @killerqueenbucky, @fallinginlovewithwhereyouare, @about-aphrodite, @juliet-taylor, @rogerrrinaaa, @mercuriangel, @daarkdreamy, @fanficsupporter, @rogahtaylahthedrumah, @fortuneboldlyfavors, @int0-you, @sleeping-bobcat, @bensroger, @katexxr, @whitequeenwalks, @bulsaratheopera

[odderancyart]

Retribution

Chapter 8

First

Last

On AO3

Summary: A late night, after yet another unfruitful day with no work, Detective Edge Serif receives a phonecall from the countryside. There seems to have been a murder.

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Swearing, Past Abuse, Past Rape (of a character not in the story)

His head aches as he slowly regains consciousness, blinking against the blinding light. As he tries to lean forward, he finds he can’t. He jerks at his hands, finding he can’t move them either. There’s something keeping them stuck to the arms of the chair he’s in. What happened...?

Images. They flash before his eyes. A bedroom, letters with the British royal crest, Papyrus with a fire poker. He’d been knocked unconscious. Edge twitches as it all comes back to him and he throws his eyes open, even as his head throbs at the sudden assault of light. He’s still in the bedroom. By the writing desk, Papyrus stands, stirring a cup of tea as he watches him. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have allowed himself to get so distracted that he didn’t notice Papyrus coming into the room? His eyes catch on the gun lying next to Papyrus on the desk. His gun.

“You’re awake,” Papyrus notes. “Good.” The spoon chinks as it hits the walls of the porcelain cup, painted with roses. The cook smiles, almost apologetically. “I am terribly sorry I had to tie you up, but you really shouldn’t have come and ferreted around my room. It’s terribly rude.”

Edge tries to speak, but as he does, only muffled noises comes out. His eyes widen. In his stupor, he hadn’t realized he had a cloth stuffed into his mouth. When he glares at the other, Papyrus only tsks. “Don’t look so mad. I can’t have you yelling, you surely must understand that? I’ve reached my goal – getting revenge on the bastard who destroyed my brother’s – my entire family’s – life for many years because of something as stupid as racism. You Americans should know something about that, shouldn’t you? But it works somewhat differently home in Europe.” Disgust covers his face as he sips his tea. “I’ve lived my entire life in Wales. I was born there, and so was my brother. And our parents. But because our grandfather came from Bulgaria, from Eastern Europe, apparently we cannot be trusted. Lazy, they call us. Thieves. Not that you’re different here. Had I attempted to enter with my own name, I am certain I would’ve met a lot more resistance.”

There’s so much bitterness in his voice. Edge stares at him, and Papyrus stares back. “What do you say? Do you think they would’ve been as happy to let in Nikolay Todorov as they were to let in Papyrus Safont, Doctor Gaster’s personal cook? Would your Immigration Act have let me? Even though I’m two generations British?” When Edge remains quiet, he grinned humourlessly. “I didn’t think so.”

And he was right. Maybe his British citizenship would’ve been enough, but Edge has seen the distrust for Southern and Eastern Europeans first-hand. They are seen as threats – competition for jobs and housing, and people fear they’ll undermine American values and cause Bolshevik revolution similar to the one in Russia during the War. Stupidity, Edge would’ve said if anyone had ever bothered to ask for his opinion. If they came to America, he can only imagine it is because they wanted to live in America, not in Russia.

After putting his cup down on the desk, Papyrus saunters over to him, smiling sweetly. “Never mind all that. You look like you want to ask something.” He holds up a vial with powder. “If you make any unnecessary noises, I will shove this down your throat, and you’ll die an incredibly painful death. So better not do anything stupid, alright?” Edge nods slowly. Papyrus – Nikolay – beams. “Wonderful! See how simple things are when you cooperate?”

He pulls the gag out of Edge’s mouth, and Edge coughs, opening and closing it a couple times. Oh God, his mouth feels like a desert. Concern glimmers in Nikolay’s eyes, and he takes a few steps over to the bedtable, where a water pitcher stands, together with a glass. After pouring some into the glass, he offers it to Edge. Edge eyes it suspiciously, and he rolls his eyes, taking a sip himself. “See? It’s not poisoned. Drink, friend.”

As he puts it to Edge’s mouth, Edge does as told. Both because he does not wish to make him mad and because he genuinely needs it. When it’s empty, and his throat feels less rough, he sighs in relief before looking up at Pa- Nikolay. He looks genuinely sorry for what the situation has come to. But why would he? If he didn’t mind framing Stretch, why would he be care about Edge? That’s his first question.

Nikolay shrugs. “In all honesty, I wanted Blue to be the one. His loyalty to the Gasters is sickening. Can’t seem to see any of their faults, even when his own brother is being abused. But since anyone who knew him would know how he poured his soul into serving them until the point that’s what his life is about, and they would’ve realized he never would have, Stretch was the second best. Doing it to Sir Razz would’ve simply been stupid: his family is incredibly powerful. At least this way, I get to Blue somehow. He adored that family nearly as much as I hate them. In all honesty, I almost feel bad for him. Almost. Plus, I haven’t missed how he speaks about my heritage. He’s just like everyone else. Up on his high horses thinking he’s better than me because he’s a pure-blooded Englishman. And now his own brother is getting sentenced for the last Gaster’s murder.” He hums, the bitterness gone as fast as it came. “You get two more questions, and then I’m afraid I’ll have to get rid of you before it’s too late. I am not an unkind monster, I’d feel awful to kill you when you’re so close to solving the mystery.”

“How did you do all of this? Why wait so long?” Edge’s head spins with all the new information, but he forces himself to focus. The longer he can keep Papy- Nikolay rambling, the more time he has to get out of here. Dying is not in this week’s schedule, especially not by a cook.

The other’s smile widens. “It wasn’t hard. When your brother is a former MI6-spy, falsifying papers and learning about poisons is a child’s play. We simply made up a reasonable backstory, fixed some papers, and then I went to search employment at the Gasters. As for why so long? I’m a patient man. I very much did not wish to be new as I did it – my foreign ancestry already made me suspicious enough, since everyone’s bigoted. And your third question?”

His last.

There were multiple things he wants to know. Why, exactly, he is doing this. How he’s managed to keep this act up for such a long time. If he hasn’t grown fond of the brothers during the time he’s worked with them, even a little? How he can do such a thing to Stretch of all people. But in all honesty, there is one thing that’s more pressing to him than anything else.

Edge’s soul pounds in his chest as he stares into Nikolay’s eyes. His eyelights are soft as he meets his gaze, almost remorseful. Nonetheless, they’re determined, and Edge has no delusions about him changing his mind and letting him go. “What are you going to do with me?”

Nikolay’s smile softens. “Oh that’s easy. I’m going to give you some Cerbera odollam-seeds. The former owner of the manor had a poison greenhouse and I’ve been caring for it. I’m very sorry to tell you it won’t be painless. Then, once you fall into a coma, I’ll shove you off the west wing. It’ll look like you fell.” He crouches down so he can reach into the secret compartment. Picking up a vial holding several brown seeds, he shakes it gently. “I doubt you’ll get the sort of investigation he got – you’re a nobody, aren’t you? No family to speak of, no money?”

Edge remains quiet, face paling. He’s right. There’s a much too big risk that he’ll simply get written off as an accident or a suicide. Especially in these times. After the Crash, so many committed suicides, and he was born into a short life-expectancy group.

“Thought so.”

The house creaks around them as Nikolay steps forward. Edge feels his palms start to sweat as he leans backwards in the chair, as far away as he can. He squeezes his teeth shut as his breathing shallows. Something moves behind Nikolay, silently, slowly. A hand grips his jaw tight, starting to pry it open. Edge fights him, eyes trained at the other’s face. Nikolay’s expression is determined as he digs the tip of a phalange in between Edge’s teeth.

Edge struggles, throwing his head to the side and rocking the chair, which makes the other’s expression harden. The chair legs scrape against the floor. The finger slides in deeper, and Edge lets out a squawk as his mouth is bended open. Triumph shines in Nikolay’s eyes as he plops the cork of the vial with his thumb. It falls to the floor with a quiet thump. The seeds rustles inside the vial. A dark shape appears behind Nikolay, making his soul skip a beat as he attempts to throw away with his head again, to no avail. The cook has an iron grip on his jaw, his fingers hooked into it, keeping his mouth open.

His eyes flicker to the shape behind, widening. Apparently, Nikolay notices.

“Wha-” he says, turning to look over his shoulder. Thuck.

Edge gapes as his eyelights roll back in his eyes and he sinks to the floor with a groan. Behind him, holding a broomstick raised in the air, stands Blue. His face is still red from tears and his suit is crumpled, but fury is written on his face as he lowers the broomstick, glaring down at Nikolay in disgust. Edge can’t help but stare at the right-hand man in shock. Without a word, Blue drives the end of the broomstick into Nikolay’s head once more before shoving him to the side, facing Edge.

“Are you alright, sir?” he asks. Edge nods mutely. “I was looking for you. Inspector Fuente wanted to speak with you.” He picks up a handkerchief from his pocket, rubbing his red cheeks. “Let me untie you.”

“Yeah,” Edge says loftily. Holy shit. His mind spins as he tries to process the last few moments, now when the adrenaline is sinking away. “Please.”

Nimble fingers soon loosen the ropes keeping him stuck to the chair around his waist, arms, and legs. “I can’t believe-” Blue stops to stare at the body of the murderer he’s just knocked out. “Yes, he’s-” He shakes his head. “I know I said I suspected him, but I can’t believe he’d frame my brother.” New tears welled up, which he was quick to wipe away with his handkerchief. He smiles wetly. “But that means my brother is innocent. I knew it. I knew Stretch wasn’t a murderer.”

“So did I,” Edge murmurs, and Blue’s smile widens.

Once Edge is free, standing up and stretching his stiff limbs, they stare at the body.

“So what are we doing with him, sir?”

Edge smiles faintly. He’s shivering – almost getting murdered will do that to you. “We bring him to Inspector Fuente and get your brother back.”

Soon, he carries the unconscious Nikolay like a potato sack over his shoulder upstairs while Blue brings the evidence. The vials and the letters, and some of the ropes Edge had been tied up with. They use the others to tie up Nikolay.

Inspector Fuente and Sir Razz are standing in the main hall, conversing, as they show up. Both of them stare as Edge drops the unconscious cook on the ground.

“Here’s your murderer,” he says.

For a few beats, the room is completely silent.

“He nearly killed me too,” he adds, “but Blue knocked him out.”

Another couple seconds of silence follow. Blue holds up the poisons and hands over the letters to Inspector Fuente.

“The murder weapon, the attempted murder weapon, and his motivation.” Edge rolls his shoulders. God, Pa- Nikolay is heavy. But he is, of course, a grown man so nothing else was to be expected, really. He looks at Sir Razz. “It seems as though your husband, sir, destroyed his brother’s career within MI6 because of their Bulgarian descent. Because of racism, clear and simple.” He gives them a brief summary of the last hour.

“May I have my brother back now?” Blue demands, stepping forward and actually glaring at the inspector. Sir Razz blinks in surprise. “He’s innocent. As I said.”

Inspector Fuente huffs, shock, amazement, and amusement all playing on his face as he looks between Edge and Blue. He nods. “Yes, we’ll go into Deadford and get him out of the arrest. This case took an unexpected turn.”

If he’s worried someone will say anything to the Police about him being wrong, or if he even cares, he doesn’t show it. Nonetheless, Edge puts a hand on Blue’s shoulder, receiving a questioning gaze, before he nods back. “I do believe we have solved this case,” he says.

The inspector raises an eyebrow, but nods, the corner of his mouth tugging upwards. “Yes… It seems we have.” He dips his hat to Sir Razz. “Well, sir, we better get going.”

Sir Razz nods as well before turning to his right-hand man. “Blue, you go with the inspector and get your brother. I’m sure he’ll appreciate that the most.” Blue nodded quickly. “And Detective Serif, come with me and I’ll pay you what I owe. And a bonus for almost getting murdered.”

Edge can’t help but grin. “I appreciate it, sir.”

…

And then he is back where it all began.

He regards his reflection in his office window before looking outside at the dark street. A beggar sits bundled up in some stairs, a wild dog wanders by. The rain is, as always, pouring down over Deadford, smattering against asphalt and windows. It’s in the middle of the day, so the occasional car comes by and some pedestrians walk by, too used to the rain to bother with trying to escape it. It’s still dark: the clouds are black as coal as they spit heaven’s fury down over the town, as lightning and thunder flashes and booms.

For the first time in his life, he’d opened a bank account. Sir Razz had paid him seven hundred dollars for his services, and he’s never had that much money in his entire life. And since he does not feel safe keeping that money in his office or his shared apartment, the bank seems like the most logical choice. For once, he does not worry about ending up on the street eventually. He’s not about to buy any frivolities, though, like some others may have. In times like these, that money is best kept as backup in case he’ll lack food or be unable to pay the rent one day.

A purring comes from the side and he smiles as a white cat steps on the hand he has planted on the windowsill, demanding attention. He scratches her ear before stroking his hand down her back. Luckily, being away hadn’t destroyed his relationship with that beautiful cat on the street: in fact, once he came back, she’d been willing to move in with him. Her name is Doomfanger now. A beautiful, hairy cat with a scar running down along her right eye and torn ears that has seen better days. He loves her already.

His fingertips slide over the cold glass as he pets her, making him shiver, and she licks them, looking pleased with herself. Taking her into his arms, he walks over to the desk. Details from a new case already covers his desk: with Sir Razz’s commendations on his resumé, he suddenly turned into a highly sought for private detective. For now, he does not need to worry about money at all, for the first time in his life.

It feels good.

It knocks on the door, thrice, and he raises an eyebrow as he opens his arms so Doomfanger will jump. She lands on the floor with a quiet thump, staring at him in offence. The corner of his mouth tugs upwards. Apparently he isn’t allowed to put her down already. She lounges in the back of the room as he steps over to the door. Who would visit him at this time of day, in this weather?

The door creaks as he opens it, and a dark shape is revealed in the dark hallway. Once his eyes get used to the dim light, he hums in surprise. Dressed in a huge coat with its collar pulled up halfway over his face, stands Stretch. Edge steps to the side, gesturing for him to come in, and he does, waterdrops sliding off his coat and down on the floorboards.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you?” Stretch asks, folding down his collar to reveal his face. His teeth chatters, and his smile is nervous.

Edge shakes his head, smiling. “Not at all. I am very sorry I didn’t say goodbye, but I was worried about overstaying my welcome.” He gestures toward the coat-hanger before stepping back a few steps so he can pull out a bottle whisky from his desk drawer. Alcohol may be illegal but literally who the fuck cares? He places two glasses on the table. “Whisky? You look cold.”

“Thank you,” he says as he pulls of his coat, hanging it up next to Edge’s. Doomfanger stares at him from behind the desk, distrustful.

Once Edge has poured up two glasses with honey-brown liquid, he hands one of the glasses to Stretch before sitting down in one of the two old leather armchairs by the wall, gesturing for the other to do the same, which he does. The armchair squeaks and sways as Stretch sits down, and for a moment worry flashes over his face, as though he’s wondering if the armchair is going to break beneath him.

“And I understand.” Stretch smuts at his whisky, sighing in relief as he drinks. “Sir Razz can be intimidating. I came to say thank you. You know. For not stopping investigating.”

Taking a gulp of his own whisky, feeling it burn pleasantly in his throat, Edge shakes his head. “Of course. I- There was something about it that didn’t feel right. I didn’t think you were capable of doing such a thing… And you weren’t.”

“No.” He stares into his glass as he swirls the liquid around it. “I hated Dr Gaster. Hated him, with all my soul. I would’ve resigned the day I turned eighteen and taken employment in the factories, if Blue hadn’t- Yeah. I couldn’t leave my brother. He would’ve been heartbroken, and mother and father would’ve broken all contact with me, and made him do so too, just like they later did with Clara – our older sister-”

Edge nods. The sister who ran away to run a Scottish tavern in Minnesota with her partner. He can only assume that meant she isn’t married. In all honesty, he can’t help but admire her guts.

“-but no, I couldn’t hurt the doctor. Not that I didn’t occasionally want to throw wine in his face, damn the consequences, but no. Never.”

“You’re a better person than me,” Edge murmurs. “If my foreman is still alive, and I met him, he’d be lucky if I only punched him.”

Flashing him a quick smile, Stretch downs the rest of his whisky. “Well. You’d be justified. At least I was never physically hurt.” He sighs. “But now when I know how disgustingly he acted during the War – I didn’t even know he was in the War, we all got to hear he spent a year at Université Paris-Sorbonne – I feel even more that he truly did deserve what he got.”

“He did.”

Even if what Nikolay did was truly abhorrent as well. But the trial was coming up, and with the evidence against him, Edge didn’t doubt he’d spend a lot of time paying for his crimes.

By now, also Stretch has finished his whisky. He glances at the clock, and then at Edge. There’s something wishful on his face as he moves to stand. “Maybe I should go back before it gets too late. I just wanted to thank you.”

“You can-” Edge says before he can stop himself before cutting himself off. Stretch’s eyes flicker to him, something almost hopeful shining in there, and Edge relaxes. “One of my roommates is out of town. If you’d like, you can borrow his bed. It’s not as fancy as a manor, but it’s warm and dry. That was you don’t have to travel back in this weather.”

The smile that lits up Stretch’s face makes it impossible for him not to return it, smiling just as warmly.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

The End

[morethanonepage]

thoughts on Keanu Reeves Constantine?

y’know this is an interesting question bc i actually have a lot of….if not affection for the movie, at least respect for some of the adaptation choices made. Like the most common line in re: film!Constantine is that it’s a good movie but it’s not a good Hellblazer movie and in a sense that’s right, it’s not – but it’s interesting. A noble failure, definitely.

What I think it hinges on is that it’s an American setting so they went full blown American with it – which is a mistake in my mind bc the point of Hellblazer is that it’s a quintessentially English story, and that’s why every run with an American writer in the comics is meh for me – but in the sense of “American AU Constantine” I think there were some really interesting/clever choices made.

Like starting with their John – Keanu is all wrong for original brand Constantine. His John is broody, he’s brunet, he’s Good At Magic. And comics!John is the opposite of all those things. And while comics!John can be broody, the important thing is the comics themselves tend to undercut that – there’s a lot of kind of snarky takes about John being in a sulk for whatever reason, some of it even from John himself. You get very little of that in the movie, and the movie itself is very TAKE THIS MAN’S PAIN SERIOUSLY about it, so. BUT in a sense that loner self flagellating thing is an American Male Archetype the way comic John has a very English & self deprecating sense of humor, so: ok, I can kinda see it, more as a translation (to American audiences) than an adaptation. 

[READ MORE BC OMG WHY DID I CARE SO MUCH???]

They make John Catholic in the movie, which is another kind of interesting choice – in the comics he’s not anything specifically though I would imagine he would’ve been raised Church of England as likely as anything else. But they kind of commit to John’s Catholicism in the movie, most likely because it has more ~mysticism~ (and the association with exorcism in general) behind it. But it also kind of sets John up as An Other, because it’s the religion of a lot of the second class immigrants (like, the Irish initially, then Latinx Americans, etc). White Catholics have a bit of a different rep, but given that the film is set in LA in the late 20th century, for me it set up more of those associations than anything else. It’s also so much more about the SUFFERING and the MARTYRDOM and the REDEMPTION NARRATIVE, which is not so much a thing in the comics (where John often does/tries to do good things but usually NOT for the explicit purpose of ~cleansing his soul~, so it’s kind of notable/interesting that both American-based adaptations [TV and Movie] focus on that a lot more. It’s may also make more sense as an arc for the medium but y’know) but IS notably a big thing in the movie. 

And the thing about John, even in the comics, is that he’s an Other but Normal Passing – with comics he presents in a very Proper English Man (which is why it’s SO IMPORTANT for me that he starts off on his adventures with his shirt properly done up and his tie right, and then as the day/his bullshit unfurls he gets sloppier) way, he’s white, he’s blond, he’s handsome etc, but he’s also a bisexual mess/working class disaster mage with a progressive bent, and in the movie he’s kind of a traditional American anti hero but also has his own stuff going on. It’s not as well executed as it could be – there’s not a lot of subversion in the film version, which is kind of the point of John – but at least you get hints of his potential sexuality and they go into his mental health issues (suicide attempt, etc) and his smoking, etc. 

So John is an interesting translation – not perfect, but interesting. I would even argue that he’s the weakest point in the movie as a translation-not-adaptation (tho lol baby bear Chas Kramer is up there), bc he’s very basic supernatural protagonist with no flourish. Which is not the case for the rest of the film, which COMMITS to the genre it is and does it honestly very well.

For instance I love their conception of Ravenscar, the mental hospital John has A Bad History with – in the comics it’s got an old, spooky, mad house aesthetic from the 19th century, which fits the comics and John’s history and vibe really well. The movie version goes what I feel is a very modern American direction with it: one of the 20th century industrial monsters, a huge grey building, with the fear of mental health coming from that very specific post-war fear of anything ABNORMAL (including sexuality but y’know). 

The setting of LA is great – a couple of (American) comic writers have given John’s arcs there, probably for the irony of CITY OF ANGELS etc, but I think it’s a really interesting choice/contrast to everything London (where John’s mostly based in comics, tho he does sometimes roam the countryside fucking things up) represents: superficial, modern, bright days, beauty, opulence vs the grey gritty grunginess of John’s London life, etc. So for that to be movie!John’s homebase is kinda neat, frankly, esp because of the cases John gets to work on there. The set design is also great – very colorful, very willing to pull in the florescent glare of a modern city, with the Latinx Catholic touches on the streets (look the votive candles and shrines are SUCH an easy go to for ~creepy urban flavor~ and it’s probably at least a little problematic for this film featuring some other really questionable racial choices I will get to later, but) in general it LOOKS great. Their conception of hell is also fascinating and very well executed imo. 

I also think there’s ONE (1) thing I think the movie does better than the tv show: the setting is WAY more dug into the working class/legit poverty of LA behind the shiny surface Hollywood stuff. The show really only hit that point in the New Orleans ep and even then….didn’t fully commit to it, but it’s SUCH a key part of the comic universe. Like Chas himself (in the show) is pitch perfect but in the ep about his family they’re LIVING IN A BROOKLYN BROWNSTONE which, real talk, is worth millions of dollars. Literally millions. On a cab driver’s salary???? Ridic. Still mad about it w/e w/e. Baby Bear Chas Kramer with his shitty cab and probably shitty apartment, following John around like a stunned duckling, is way more comics canon accurate, probably. 

Rachel Weiz’s character has a lot of potential – they make her Catholic too, to have some sort of connection with John, which is eh, and they also make her a twin, whose sister kills herself at Ravenscar. Given how much John’s early backstory issue are focused around HIM being a twin (whose birth killed both his mother and his (theoretically stronger) brother) that could’ve been a cool thing to allude to, but they don’t touch on it. And Angela (ANOTHER ANGEL THING) is p cool as a character – she’s unconvinced about the ~spooky shit~ stuff until she sees evidence of it, and then believes it, as a normal average human likely would. She’s brave, she asks questions, etc. She’s not just Love Interest tho there’s a bit of that. And anyway I love Rachel Weiz generally, she’s great, could’ve had more to do though.

Tilda Swinton shows up a lot in the gifs and it was a cool choice to cast her as Gabriel – they play up the androgyny and make her less obvious of a dick than comics Gabriel is (though she ends up being…probably more of one, or at least more effective). I think their Lucifer is good too – oily and weird and creepily gentle at times. He also doesn’t get a lot to do, but he doesn’t need to – he doesn’t in the comics, usually, either. 

BUT the racial stuff – the supernatural macguffin that’s supposed to bring about the end of the world is found IN A MEXICAN DESERT and then SMUGGLED OVER THE BORDER to LA to bring about the end of the world, like, who wrote this, Donald J. Trump?? – is generally #bad. But this is something it shares with the show (GOD THOSE MEXICO EPS, I LEGIT ALMOST QUIT THE SHOW BC OF IT), tho at least they had an actual Mexican actress to temper that nonsense. NO SUCH LUCK from the movie – just lots of creepy zombish brown people trying to bring around an apocalypse, super cool.

And not only is meh as a metaphor, to impute such a conservative metaphor into a the Hellblazer Verse, with its infamous/classic DEMON YUPPIES FROM HELL and in general tips toward the progressive/pro immigrant ethos, is BAFFLING to me. I mean maybe more in tune with American sentiments about everything, which I have argued above is an interesting choice, but still, boooo.

Also the fact that John quits smoking at the end of the movie is such Hollywood garbage it almost outweighs the positives. I mostly imagine he and Angela date for like a month, he’s such a bitch when going through withdrawal that she dumps his ass, and then he goes back to smoking/sulking around LA doing bad exorcisms. That’s the real John Constantine, babey!!!

[sleepymarmot]

Another day, another epic misadventure in Morrowind!

I’ve been given a job by the Thieves Guild: bring three dwemer artifacts from a guy. He lives in a small village, it takes me a while to get there. The villagers tell me they don’t trust me enough to say anything about this, but when I convince them, they just say “he’s looking for a buyer”. That gives me nothing. The guy himself plays dumb even with high disposition. So my usual tactic of talking people into things doesn’t work here: I must steal the artifacts.

I notice a trap door behind the guy. The artifacts must be hidden there, I think. But it’s a whole hideout full of people. One of them offers me to escort a slave to her buyer, I help her escape by escorting her to Ebonheart where I’ve never been before and don’t know the road. Takes a ton of time. I wander the countryside a bit, do a couple of other quests.

Eventually I get back. Check the hideout again, no dice, so the artifacts must be hidden somewhere else. Then I notice that right behind the guy is a chest. A 75% chest. That’s waaay higher than I can deal with. 

Well, this job is difficult, but it must be done. I go back to town and start trying to prepare. I need to be able to open this very difficult lock, and to stay hidden all the while.

I finish a couple of quests for the Mages Guld in the meantime, and notice that Invisibility isn’t as OP as I first assumed. In my first two Thieves Guild jobs, I used my birthsign invisibility power to steal in plain sight, and it worked perfectly. So I assumed that crime detection for some reason triggers at the beginning of the action, before you break invisibility, so it’s an overpowered mechanic that lets you do anything in the open. But apparently, I just was extraordinarily lucky and people didn’t notice because they happened to look away. Now I get reported even when the only guy in the room is facing the other direction. So my hope of using a free power for this was broken.

Which means I need a spell, or a potion, or an enchanted item. I do have custom Invisibility and Chameleon spells, but they’re very short duration - not enough to switch from spell to weapon stance, let alone pick a lock. I make a couple of longer variations, but of course they cost a ton and are very difficult to cast. I don’t know any ingredients with Chameleon (I haven’t actually checked of they even exist), there are no potions or scrolls on sale. Same with Open. My Alteration is too low, and the scrolls on sale are up to 60. Which means I must raise my Security and Intelligence, use the best lockpick, and hope for the best.

So I train. I level up a bunch of times. I spend time and effort on ensuring x5 modifiers. I grind out a lot of money along with Alchemy and Mercantile points, in the process finally finding out how to sell only one item in the stack (before that, I was moving the silder manually every time... absolute nightmare). I am now able to sell above cost. I make tours of various places, buying training and ingredients and selling potions. I go through all my ingredients and inventorize their effects. I steal some more expensive equipment from the poor alchemist who already lost her Grandmaster mortar and pestle to me. I install some UI mods (and starting to care about mods is a worrying sign that the excitement about a new game is beginning to wear off). I’m tired and frustrated. Finally, I get back to the place, because I have Mark there, which means I must do this now instead of more fun adventures unless I want to take a tedious journey again.

So. I buff myself with potions. I go transparent. The guy is looking away. So far so good.

I can’t open the lock in time. The glamour wears off, and the guy reports my crime and attacks me with fists.

But now I have nothing to lose. And I want to at least see what’s in there. So I keep picking the lock.

The chest opens. It’s a bunch of weapons and armor. No dwemer artifacts. This is the wrong place. My preparation was for nothing. 

I cast Calm on the guy. Now my bounty is 55. Maybe Calm counts as assault, maybe if’s for opening the chest, or maybe I took something from it, don’t remember.

Then something occurs to me. I type “tfh” in the console. I check the chest I opened, and a small chest hidden behind barrels.

The big chest my mark was standing next to belongs to the trader. His chest is a small one to the side. Its difficulty is just 35. I thought the job was twice as difficult than it was supposed to be.

But while all of this was happening, I thought: this is interesting. I’m actually doing crime. I’m getting a bounty for real theft for the first time in a singleplayer TES game (instead of “accidentally picking up owned object”). This is what this character is supposed to be doing. Because I’ve been feeling uneasy that she went legit almost as soon as she landed. She advanced so quickly in the Mages Guild, way faster than in Thieves Guild; she basically lives there; after the last job, the guild member near the door showers her with compliments so much it sounds she’s in love. Suddenly being an upstanding citizen for the first time in her life feels wrong. (Having no canon backstory is so nice. I can just make up any shit I want.) And so, even though I’m normally not at all above save scumming, I decide to leave this in. It’s good for the story.

So I teleport back to Balmora Temple, put on the aforementioned invisibility power and run like hell. I need to get to the Thieves Guild within a minute, and that’s on the opposide side of town. Thankfully, I get there safely in time, clear the bounty. I’m fine. Just to check, I teleport to the scene of the crime; the guy is not hostile. 

So while I’m at it, I try to open the correct chest. Nobody notices, miraculously. I get the goods and teleport the fuck out. The nightmare is finally over.

And you know what was the next job they gave me after this living hell? To retreive a bottle of booze from Ralen Hlaalo’s manor. You know, the house I moved in a while ago, where I store a lot of ingredients on the dead guy’s body and practice Alteration and lockpicking on a door? Yep. That’s the next job.

Whew. I’m glad this is over. Finally, I can get back to the main quest with free conscience...

[ograndebatata]

Headcanons on Doña Paloma

I’d call this a new one for me.

I may be wrong, but I’d say that as far as characters from Elena of Avalor go, these headcanons are my first attempt at a backstory for a more ‘questionable’ character. 

But I’ll admit, I liked coming up with these headcanons. Doña Paloma turned out to be a rather interesting character to develop, even as the backstory I imagined for her turned out not to be the most pleasant one.

While Shuriki is a relatively minor player this time around, these headcanons also delve quite a bit into darkness, having elements like the loss of a loved one, witnessing death, and references to grief and depression. Reader discretion is advised when reading these. 

To those who still want to go on, please check below the cut for my headcanons on the owner of Avalor’s largest trade emporium.

Doña Hortensia Paloma

Hortensia Paloma was born in a farm separated from Avalor’s capital by a relatively vast expanse of wilderness. She grew up in the midst of a large family, with ten siblings (she was the fourth born out of her parents’ eleven children), and a trove of aunts, uncles, and cousins of both genders. She also got to meet all her grandparents and one of her great-grandmothers.

For a long time, she had a fairly simple and very happy life. She knew her family loved her, and as much as she could bicker with some of them, she loved each of them in return. As a child she went to the nearby village’s school and was a fairly good student there, doing particularly well at maths. She was not the most popular kid per se, but she wasn’t an outcast either.

She never had any dreams to leave the village or the family farm. She started helping her family run it at a young age, and when she got married at the age of nineteen, she and her husband Santiago, the son of a carpenter, built their own cottage in her family’s property. Her first son, Pablo, was born when she was twenty, and her second, Vasco, was born when she was twenty two. A touch young perhaps, but still a relatively normal age to be parents at in the Avaloran countryside, and their young age did not diminish the love Hortensia and Santiago had for both their sons.

Sadly, their happiness was cut short when Hortensia and Santiago were twenty-three.

They and their children had been in Hortensia’s parents’ home for a family gathering, when a sudden and very intense off-season storm came down on the farm.  At first, the family wasn’t too worried, but they did start getting ready for a possible bad scenario, leaving the house with food supplies and trying to get as many of their animals to safety

Unfortunately, their preparations were not quick enough (after all, it is difficult to get a big family moving quickly, and adding animals into the mix does not make things easier) and a sudden rush of water brought with it the worst nightmare Hortensia had ever gone through, as her oldest son was torn from her arms and she found herself both trying not to drown and trying to find her children amidst a mess of floating debris as her family’s cries and their animals’ bellows thundered in her ears.

As she kept swimming about even hours after everything had faded to silence, she at last heard cries she recognized. She swam toward them, and found her youngest son, Vasco, on a floating cart, as a crocodile swam toward it. In an effort to draw it away, she flailed about in the water, and after drawing the crocodile’s attention, she tied its mouth shut. Leaving the struggling crocodile behind, she swam into the cart, and as her son clung to her she used a wooden board to paddle the cart into the nearest stretch of the dry land she found.  

When the storm ended, she tried to find the rest of her family. She found many of them - both of her parents, seven of her brothers, one of her abuelas, Santiago, and Pablo. And unlike her and Vasco, none of them had made it through.

All Hortensia could do was cling to her surviving son and let the tears flow. They had lost everything. Their home, their livelihood, and their family. And considering the kind of disaster they had just endured, they were lucky beyond measure not to have also lost their lives.

As it happened, none of the nearby villages was any better off. The death toll was massive, the injuries were equally massive, and resources were too few for the survivors.

Most of the survivors believed the only thing they could do was to ration their supplies as best as they could and hope for the flood to fade, but Hortensia believed doing so was suicide, so she picked up Vasco, collected the few belongings she had managed to salvage from the mess, and left to the city.

As her father and two of her brothers had been hunters, she knew how to survive in the jungle, but even so the trek to the city was an ordeal, especially with a two year old baby to care for.

Against all odds, she made it, and requested an audience with King Raul Castillo, explaining to him the situation. The king immediately sent out resources and manpower to tackle the situation… but sadly, it was all too late. Between the numerous wild animals, illnesses, infected wounds, and disagreements over resource distribution, no one else was alive.

For the following days, as she recovered from her ordeal in the palace, Hortensia raged at everything. At heavens above for sending such a thing down on them. At her family, for not getting on the move fast enough. At the survivors, for not listening to her. And even at King Raul himself, for not having done anything else.

But she still had a son to take care of, and after the initial days, she realized she could not sink into rage for his sake.

So, upon her recovery, she started looking for a job. As luck would have it, the harbormaster was opening up a position for an accountant, and as Hortensia had always been good with numbers, she decided to apply. There was a hub-ub about her lack of formal education, but the harbormaster was a fair sort, and decided to test all the candidates to see which one was the best.

Hortensia studied like mad and applied herself harder than she ever had at anything. And with each new test, she kept staying on, until there were only five candidates remaining. Out of those five, Hortensia was the one who fared better at the final test, and the job was given to her.

All things considered, everything seemed to have gone much better than it should have after such a tragedy. The pay of her new job was quite good, and while caring for her son while working a job was difficult, her boss’s wife was willing to help her out by caring for Vasco if she needed a break.

Hortensia kept missing her lost relatives, but she was thankful for what she had, and believed the worst had come to pass.

Her belief turned out to be wrong.

About a year after she moved to the city, she saw a devilish-woman flying through the sky toward the palace, a cloud of sickly green smoke in her wake. Then, the next day, the same woman flew right into her workplace and proclaimed herself to be Shuriki, the new queen of Avalor. Her boss asked about the former ruling couple, to which Shuriki replied that the task of ruling had been a killer job, and they were both resting in a better place than Avalor.

Hortensia understood the analogy, but her boss demanded a better explanation, to which the only answer he got was that he either swore loyalty to her or he would regret it. He did not swear loyalty. And Hortensia saw the most horrifying thing she had ever seen as Shuriki fired a crystal wand at her boss and fired a pale green bolt that volatilized him, leaving nothing behind.

Shuriki then turned to Hortensia and asked her if she shared her boss’ opinion. Hortensia thought about how kind King Raul and Queen Lucia had been to her. She thought about the kind of person - if she could even be called a person, given how she seemed to come from the depths of hell - Shuriki had just proved to be. Then she thought about Vasco, and what would happen to him if she was gone. It sickened her to do so, but she did the only thing she felt she could. She proclaimed her loyalty to Shuriki.

The witch’s only reply was that she had been promoted.

Thus Hortensia became the new harbormaster.

She did a good job, but she had to bear some hateful glares and scowls about her being a social climber and a power-hungry usurper. Thankfully they weren’t that many, as the average citizen felt, like Hortensia herself, that all she would have achieved with open defiance would be getting herself killed, which wouldn’t have helped anyone.

For the next years, things again went well for Hortensia - at least as well as they could with a despot in charge of the kingdom. Her son grew up as healthy kind boy who did well in school and was loved by his mother and friends. And his mother had moved on from being harbormaster and started building her personal emporium, made possible by the economic prosperity she had helped to bring into the town, with Chancellor Esteban’s help. But Hortensia kept dreading the day he would become sixteen, for that would be the day he would enter Shuriki’s army, like every boy was required to do.

From the day he went, Hortensia prayed every night for him to get through everything and make it to the end of his stint as a guard.

At first, things seemed to be going well. Vasco got through basic training alive and well. Then when he started work as an actual guard, he kept making it through each day, in spite of some close calls. But when he was nineteen, and only four days away from ending the obligatory stint as a soldier, he was on patrol by a bar where a brawl ensued. As he and the other guards tried to break it up, one of the brawlers slammed a chair on his head.

And Hortensia lost the only family she had left.

Like everyone who assaulted a royal guard, the brawler was executed, but that served as no consolation to Hortensia. Her son was still dead, and nothing could bring him back.

Again, she was consumed by anger, but this time, instead of raging, she threw it into expanding her emporium.

At first, her goal was to make the kingdom so successful and such a draw to foreign merchants that it would become harder and harder for Shuriki to keep up the pretense that she was the legitimate ruler. Perhaps if enough foreign rulers caught wind of her true colors, one or several of their royal wizards would come forth and do away with her.

But over time, as her hope kept coming up empty, she lost sight of her original goal and instead started taking comfort in the wealth she was acquiring, which was everything she had left. She dressed in ever finer clothes, spent time with ever more exclusive company, and demanded everyone they called her ‘Doña Paloma’.

Outside, she was the picture of success. Wealthy, well-dressed, and with the added bonus of looking at least fifteen years younger than her actual age (no one pegged her at above 50 even when she was actually past 60). But however she tried, the wealth could never patch up the void inside her.

Still, it was all she had left.

And in her eyes, it was put at risk when Princess Elena, who Hortensia had only seen a few times from far away before the girl ended up in the Amulet of Avalor, made her unexpected return and drove Shuriki away. While Doña Paloma would never say she would rather have Shuriki back, Princess Elena was a bit too involved in town politics for her liking, and the once farmgirl kept seeing the only thing she had left at risk.

Slowly, as she and Princess Elena got to know one another better, that fear started to fade.

But only time would tell if it would ever vanish.

[loyaltyentertainment]

A Return to the Gathering Place

A few months back, we had the pleasure of entering the Pennsylvania countryside to be part of a wedding in Pittsburgh at the one and only Gathering Place at Darlington Lake. And we’ve been called back to this venue with no complaints from a single member of our staff.

Gathering Place provides the rustic feel, with a cabin-like venue that boasts insanely large windows and views of Darlington Lake that will leave every bride, groom, DJ (us) in awe.

The scenery is breathtaking, and the winding path up to the venue with the tall, lantern lights dotting the path provide picture-taking opportunities that are rarely seen this close to Pittsburgh. 

It's safe to say that the newlyweds were living up the night at The Gathering Place.

Natural Beauty and a Whimsical Feel 

The Gathering Place provides a whimsical, country setting yet is just 10 minutes from numerous hotels. A little backstory on the venue is that it was built by the Amish with hand peeled logs that bring the outdoors, indoors with a wooded backdrop that can hold 50 to 225 guests.

Romantic and beautiful, you’ll be surrounded by:

    • Indoor and outdoor spaces

    • Covered outdoor spaces

    • Ceremony area

    • Reception area

Wedding parties are often seen in the covered, outdoor area with the lake as the backdrop. Perfect for pictures of the entire crew, the area is where groomsmen are often seen sitting with the boys, drinking and helping the groom-to-be relax before he says “I do” or spends the night on the dance floor with his beautiful bride.

But we noticed that the bride and her bridesmaids are more inclined to take pictures inside with the stunning woodwork and greenery surrounding the doors. Brides also love going out into the field to take pictures.

One of the most jaw-dropping picture opportunities is walking up the steps of the cabin with flowers on each side of the walkway and lovely, wooden rails going up the steps.

Whether we’re DJing the party indoors or the bride and groom choose to get married in front of the massive outdoor gazebo on the lake, there’s always great spaces for music, dancing and one-of-a-kind pictures.

Bringing Down the House for a Truly Special Couple

Every couple leaves a lasting mark on us – seriously. We’re able to get to know couples intimately, and the lovely couple had true love in their eyes. The laughs and love were brought out when they sat down with us to choose their custom wedding music selection that was brimming with personality.

We bring the music, but the couple brings the dancing.

Our team offered the couple dance lessons, which brought flare to the dance floor and had the crowd pumped up. 

The team of videographers were waiting in the back, capturing all of these key moments without interrupting the wedding flow in the process – something that’s very difficult to do. Whether your party is dancing on the floor, glancing out into the lake or lining up for pictures in front of the exquisite steps, Gathering Place will not disappoint.

Final Wedding Thoughts

We just wanted to say that we love what we do. Being a part of the best day of a couple’s life is something you can’t get in any other line of work. From wedding photography and videography to wedding DJing and MCing, we’ve been involved in many capacities in many, many Pittsburgh weddings. With the coming year, we’re looking forward to being involved in many, many more!

If you found some inspiration from this wedding blog, we’d love to hear about it! Contact Loyalty Entertainment for Pittsburgh wedding DJs, wedding photography, photo booths, wedding planning, videography, dance lessons, or just to chat about how your big day can be the best day ever. 

[rickyriddle]

Akuma no Riddle headcanon: Parenthood

Hi there! Here’s another AnR headcanon, this time about the ships’ kids. I know that when it comes to same-sex ships, people usually went for science baby. Even if technically speaking, with science it may be possible for female couples to have kids together in the future, I’m more into adoption when it comes to same-sex couples. So for this headcanon, I’d come up with backstories for how the ships could have ended up adopting kid(s) (either girl or boy).

TokaHaru: They would adopt an orphan baby boy, who happened to be a distant relative of Haru. Since he’s a boy, no one else in the clan would have wanted him since he can’t have the queen bee power. Then Tokaku and Haru would have take him, and he would become Tokaku’s heir, she would train him, even tho they wouldn’t use their skills to kill but to protect. He would get Tokaku’s strength and Haru’s kindness. So just imagined a genderbend Haru who know how to fight. I’d come up with a name for him: Azuma Aki. There’s a drawing of him and HaruI’s child on my tumblr.

HaruI: An homeless young boy who never knew is parents nor is birth name. A total tsundere and somewhat flamboyant boy who’s acting like a big brother with younger kids. I would give him 8-9 years old when he first met Haruki and Isuke. Haruki would have meet him first and got attached to him. Isuke would eventually learned about it and since she tired that her girlfriend arrive late because of him, would have carelessly said “why don’t you adopt him if you prefer to spend time with him rather then me!?” and that’s how they actually adopt him. Isuke would have meet him too and realized he has some potential and that her mama would want her to have a heir for their family. I named him Inukai Isuko, just because it would be funny to give him a female name since Isuke has a male one. Oh and somehow I ended up shipping him with Aki. He’s on the same drawing as him.

ChitaHitsu: In their case it would be two siblings, a boy (10 years old) and a girl (7 years old), and I picture them both with lilac hair. Their parents died four years ago and they had been adopt by Datura Organization and trained to be assassin. One of their mission would have been to go after an old member of the group, who’s none other then Hitsugi, as well as the person who made her quit, Chitaru. The siblings managed to get close to them, but the boy ended up liking them so he admits the truth and ask them help to escape from Datura and save his sister, because she had been train younger then him to be an assassin and is too condition to kill to give up by herself. So they help them to escape, and decided to adopt them to take care of them and help them to live normal live.

SumiBanba: It took me a while to come up with an idea for them, and then the perfect idea pop up in my mind: twins girls. I view them as white haired with green eyes, but one of them would have an heterochromia, one of her eyes would be blue (it’s actually possible but rare of identical twins). The one with the heterochromia is the youngest and is more feminine and delicate, while the older one is more tomboy and rough. So the twins would have been stuck in an abusive foster family since there parents died when they were babies. At age 8, they were almost sold to a slave market because they look rare. They escape and ended up hiding in a certain tea house that belonged to none other then Sumireko and Banba (in my mind they would totally open a tea house together in the future). Banba learned their story and decided to hide them, but they eventually got captured. Banba asked help from Sumireko. The latter go “buy” them from the underground slave market, and as soon as she left with the twins, Shinya killed the slave owners. And then they adopt the twins. 

SuzuKou: They would have tones of children! How? They would own an orphanage in a countryside village. Well, Suzu would, while Kouko would own a clinic. But she would still live in the orphanage with Suzu. But one of the kids would be their permanently. A young girl they rescued from Kouko’s old group. I would see her as a big nerd with good grades, mature and responsible. But they still view most of the kids as their own.

OtoShie: That one doesn’t really have kids, but they have (well, mostly Shiena) a teen girl under their care. A young murderer who Shiena wanted to help and control her murderous instinct. Let’s say that being in couple with a psychopathic serial killer made Shiena used to deal with murderers. The girl is someone who appeared to be polite, kind and somewhat shy, but in reality she’s a sadistic killer who enjoyed making people bully her and then killed them painfully, just to make people that once feel powerful feel powerless, and she loves to kill with pencils. 

So that would be all for my AnR’s kids, maybe I will write some fics about them, if you’re interested,

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

[Exclusive Interview] Introducing Mike P. Nelson, Director of THE DOMESTICS

There are a few things about Mike P. Nelson’s life that may seem counter-intuitive to becoming a promising young filmmaker. He doesn’t live in L.A. or any of the other centers of North American film. His CV is filled with sound design work and extensive work as a foley artist. In fact, the only films he has on his resume are shorts that he created and put out with his friends. For most people, this would keep Mike P. Nelson’s name out of the conversation for directors that are the future of cinema. That is about to change.

The Minnesota native has come out throwing haymakers with his feature writing and directorial debut The Domestics, which premiered last week at Cinepocalypse in Chicago and is the first release of the newly-revamped Orion Classics distribution house. He was kind enough to sit down with us to discuss his work on this film and advice he has for all of you aspiring filmmakers out there.

    Tyler Liston for Nightmare on Film Street: First of all, Mike, congratulations on the movie! I got a chance to see it this weekend and I had a great time with it. It was awesome.

Mike P. Nelson: Oh, man… I’m so glad you liked it. Thank you!

  NOFS: What inspired you to write The Domestics?

MPN: You know, it’s a funny story. I wanted to write a movie about marriage. Marriage is a challenge, and I didn’t want to write just another drama. Also, I’m a huge post-apocalyptic fan. I love the original Mad Max movies and the Warriors of course, and I wanted to tell this relationship story but set it in that world. So I thought “Yeah, let’s make a really bloody, violent, and scary action packed movie about how hard marriage can be”. That’s how I started the idea and it just took off from there.

  “You know, it’s a funny story. I wanted to write a movie about marriage.”

  NOFS: That’s what I wanted to talk about a little bit. The Domestics is a bloody, ultra-violent, scary movie with  serious The Strangers and Fury Road vibes, but none of those things overshadow the relationship between Mark (Tyler Hoechlin) and Nina (Kate Bosworth). How were you able to find that balance?

MPN: You know, the stuff that happens to them had to reflect what was going on with them. It was always about making sure that… Let me back up:

One thing that I wanted to do was make sure that we could jump right into it. We didn’t give you much of their backstory, just like we didn’t with the world they live in. So, for me, it was about making a story about a couple that you meet at the dinner table that you’ve known for a little bit, they’re friends of friends or something like that, and you can just see that there’s something that’s kind of off. You can feel it and you can’t take your eyes off of them because you’re like “What is going on with them?”. That’s the vibe I was trying to get. You don’t know these people, but, here you go.

As the story progresses, then you can start to put the puzzle pieces together. Then, what I wanted to do was use the violence and the scares to hit on key moments in the movie that could ultimately bring them closer together. You see Mark protecting Nina at the beginning of the movie. You see him stand up. So you see the good things about him and also the bad things like his reluctance to go on this journey in the first place. Ultimately, the characters around them and these gangs that surround them bring them closer together. It was a case of the brutality enhancing their relationship. That may sound twisted, but that’s what it came down to. 

    NOFS: Once you finished the script, what was the most challenging thing about bringing it to life?

MPN: We moved pretty quickly. Both MGM and Orion wanted to push the pedal down on it and move it forward. We went through some casting stuff, you know. Casting was definitely challenging, as it is with all movies to an extent. 

The thing that I always come back to is that The Domestics was originally meant to be a web series. I went out with some of my film friends here in Minnesota and we shot two episodes of this web series. Everything went really good and I was happy with it, so I thought “OK, I’m going to go get a little more money and shoot another one until we get to 8 or 10 episodes”. Which would make it feature-length. To get that money I put what we had made out into the world.

I wrote the feature script, which was more of a “Let’s see if I can do it” kind of thing, and that got in the hands of people that make things happen. Then  it happened really fast. The scene where the “Nailers” group breaks into the house where Mark and Nina are, that was the scene that I had already shot for the web series. So, what was really difficult was trying to remake something you’ve already done. In my mind, I was like, “OK, I have to make this look like the other one did”. I didn’t realize how hard that was, and that it was also a big mistake. I was with a whole new crew, a whole new set of actors, set up in a brand new place. I shot for two days on that scene, and on the third day I realized that “This” isn’t “That” anymore. I had to figure that out and make this movie for what it is now. That’s where I think the tone for The Domestics really started to build and I finally found the movie that it came to be. 

  NOFS: One of my favorite characters in the film is Willie Cunningham…

MPN: YES! David Dastmalchian!

  NOFS: Oh yeah! First of all, he’s a fantastic actor, but I really loved the character himself. He reminds me of the pretentious film nerds on Twitter that are amazed that a low being would catch on to their cinematic references. How did you come up with Cunningham and what other characters were fun to write?

MPN: So, I feel like Willy is a weird, demented alter-ego of mine. I think he was a lot of fun to write because he was a part of a moment in the film that completely comes out of nowhere. I wanted to do this scene where, ok, we’ve seen all of these gangs and as an audience you are wondering what the next gang is going to be. Well, its not going to be a gang, its a singular psychopath, a lone wolf who roams the countryside with his strange giant friend chained by his side. 

Listen, I love movies. I consider myself a cinephile, so I wanted him to be into movies. It was funny to me because they never really talk about movies in post-apocalyptic films. I wanted to bring in that conversation. Say what you want about A Clockwork Orange, which Willy references in The Domestics, but I’m not really that huge of a fan. When I was in school everyone raved about how it was the best movie ever and I was like “Really? IS IT the best movie ever?” I mean, it’s good, but…

  NOFS: They thought it was cool to think that it’s amazing and have the poster up on their wall…

MPN: Exactly. I was able to finally have this moment where I could take a jab back at Willy who thinks he’s so cool. Which brought me back to school where I would say “ I swear to god there are better movies than this out there”. 

So, for me, Willy was one of the funnest characters to write but another one that was really great was Betsy (Sonoya Mizuno). She had no dialogue the whole movie, just action and what she did and what she stood for. It was really fun for me to find that balance. I was only writing action for her, which was the exact opposite of a character like Willy. It was challenging, but also really fun to do.

    NOFS: Where did you shoot The Domestics?

MPN: We actually shot it out in New Orleans.

  NOFS: Some of the shots and set pieces you have in the film are just absolutely gorgeous. The abandoned grocery store and the empty neighborhoods really stood out to me. Were these places that your were able to scout and find or did you have to build them out?

MPN: It was a huge team effort. Obviously our location team was incredible, but when you go down to a place like NOLA, there’s a lot of places that still have not recovered from hurricane Katrina. So there were some really eerie places down there that have not been fixed up or have been abandoned. This allowed us to create these really creepy post apocalyptic scenes. The people down there were all really accommodating and they were great to work with.

The grocery store, for instance, was a real, running grocery store that was just kind of tucked away. We went in there and told the guy what we wanted to do and he just let us take over the whole store. I think it was just a day shoot, but we took it over and cleared out all the stuff and he just sat there behind the counter, watching us.

  NOFS: He was just living the dream. Having the time of his life.

MPN: Absolutely. He was having so much fun. My production designer Rochelle Berliner and my DP Maxime Alexandre made the places what they ended up being. We sat down and talked about what I was looking for, but to walk into these places and see a shot that Maxime put up I was just like, “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe I’m standing here”.

When you come from the independent world you work a lot with what you have. You don’t have the same opportunities that you do when you’re making a studio film, even though our production was lower-budget. 

  NOFS: Speaking of being lower-budget, that final act in which Mark and Nina go into her old neighborhood is insane. You were able to capture so much carnage on screen. I don’t want to say it shocked me, but I was definitely surprised that you were able to shoot that much action. Walk us through that final act. What was your vision and how were you able to get it done?

MPN: It’s always been a dream of mine to film a shootout in a neighborhood. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s juxtaposing the quiet “Everything’s OK” attitude of the suburbs with something absolutely crazy. I wanted to push those things together.

As far as organizing this shoot for The Domestics, we all knew that we were up against a huge challenge. We went in and just went big, you know? We didn’t have a ton of money and I only had like 5 days, which isn’t a lot of time to shoot something like this. I remember my AD Bill Clark was like, “Just to let you know for the next one, we normally take about 2 weeks to shoot something like this. Maybe more. But, I’m going to make this happen for you.”

It was insane. We had 1-2 takes for each shot, and that’s it. We had to plan out everything. Nick Gillard, who was our stunt coordinator, and I sat down and played this thing out with action figures and Matchbox cars and got it stitched together. We knew who was dying when, and how, and where the camera needed to be. It was insanity. We would get a shot and yell “Ok lets move!”. The camera crew was picking up their gear and literally running to the next set up, but without this insanity we would have never got this thing done. 

  “It was all about creating this sense of chaos [..] It was just about being in it, moving around and chasing people. Catching moments.”

  NOFS: I mean, when you’re flipping a giant plow you usually only get one take.

MPN: Oh yeah. You get one take for flipping the plow, one take for smashing through cars, and, actually, even for the bigger squib hits, we had one take. For some of the gun stuff, like if they were just shooting their guns, we could get a couple out of them just so we could get another angle. At one point we had three cameras rolling, which really helped. That was a life saver. 

It was all about creating this sense of chaos. There weren’t a lot of stylized action shots, except for maybe one where Kate is ejecting a shell from her rifle as she enters the fight. It was just about being in it, moving around and chasing people. Catching moments. That was the vibe I wanted to go for and I feel like we captured that.

  NOFS: You’re originally from Minnesota, correct?

MPN: Yep. Born and raised and still here. 

  NOFS: Do you feel like being from, and working in, the Midwest was a roadblock for your career as a filmmaker?

MPN: Not at all. I think I actually have more opportunities because I am in the Midwest, to be honest. Mainly because we have a great film community here and I have some of the most incredible friends and they’ve worked on all my short films and I’ve worked on their short films. We just set out to make good stuff, you know? Being somewhere bigger like L.A. or New York, I feel like you just get lost.

For me, living in the Midwest, working in the Midwest, making films in the Midwest was one of the things that gave me a different flavor. Especially when I pitched The Domestics to the studios, it was a big deal. A story set in the Midwest written by a guy from the Midwest, it was just something different and unique. So, for me, being located in the Midwest was a plus. 

    NOFS: You mentioned working on a lot of your friends’ short films. You have a lot of experience in the sound department, both as an editor and as a foley artist. What type of advice would you give aspiring directors out there about this experience?

MPN: In college, everyone wants to be a director or a cinematographer. I say “Find a trade”. Find something within the film world that you’re good at that’s not on of those two things. One thing that I liked to focus on when I was making my films in college was sound. I wanted to make the best sounding films I could. So, I learned how to do sound design. That’s how I got my jobs after college. I did foley art and sound design for several years, so for me, going into The Domestics and even when I write something, I write with sound in mind. I direct with sound in mind. 

Obviously, then, being able to work with Nathan Barr on the score was a “Dream Come True” type of situation for me. All the sonic stuff, working with Trevor (Gates) at Wildfire, getting that sound, getting that world building sound was so much fun. 

  NOFS: Ok, last one, Mike. What, if anything, is the message that you want audiences to take away from seeing The Domestics?

MPN: I feel like, with The Domestics, we made a pretty nasty world. When I was writing it, I wanted the message to be that, yes, This is a terrible world, and here is this broken relationship, but ultimately love can still push through all that in the end. No matter what your political stance is these days, this is a message that should resonate with everybody. Love is number one. Love will get us through anything. 

  NOFS: Mike, thank you so much for your time. Congratulations again on The Domestics,  and I cant wait to see what’s next for you. 

The Domestics is being released in select theaters on Thursday, June 28th and will see a VOD release June 29th. Do yourself a favor and find a way to see this film. When you do, head over to our Facebook group, Horror Fiends of Nightmare on Film Street, and let us know what you think!

  The post [Exclusive Interview] Introducing Mike P. Nelson, Director of THE DOMESTICS appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

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[hogwartselementumrp]

Congratulations and welcome to Forgotten Elementum, Zalgrith! You have clearly put a lot or thought and effort into your OC Michael, and I think you have created a character that will fit in well here, and hopefully develop a lot of interesting connections in Hogsmeade and play into the brewing unrest in ways that we will all anticipate and enjoy watching unfold whether he fights as his parents once did or resists repeating history. Your enthusiasm to join the rp, and perseverance while writing and modifying your application and trying to find a faceclaim  while you’re also trying to learn the ropes of tumblr and rping make me think you will be someone who will invest in Elementum and we will all be here to invest in you and answer any questions you need. Please choose a faceclaim, make a character blog, and send both into the main within 48 hours.  I will send you the information for the ooc chat and you can start rping whenever you have Michael’s blog ready. 

OOC Information

NAME/ALIAS:

Name: Franco Strydom

Alias: Zalgrith

PREFERRED PRONOUN:

The ‘he’ pronoun.

AGE:

28

TIMEZONE:

GMT +3

ACTIVITY LEVEL:

Very Active; 3-4 Days a week if not daily.

HOW DID YOU FIND THE RP (NEW MEMBERS):

Via http://harrypotter.wikia.com & ‘House of Black’ website.

Character Information

Michael Gregorovitch (Михаел Грегорович) is TWENTY-FOUR years old, attending HOGWARTS UNIVERSITY, having graduated from KOLDOVSTORETZ SCHOOL.

    “When it comes to fighting for your dreams, be a dragon. Breathe fire.”

↳ MAGIC

Michael was raised in a traditional pure blood family, as such his magical education started at a young age and spanned a great many disciplines (depending on the aunt or uncle present at the time) – his first spell however was a charm - the Dancing Feet Spell, cast with his mother’s wand and instruction - not to the amusement of his father (who was the target of this first spell). Michael has an uncanny affinity to Defensive charms and battle magic which his (knowledgeable) Russian Uncle - who had taken over the trade of the Gregorovitch family (wand making), pointed out when Michael was chosen by his wand. While this affinity had always served Michael well he paid it little attention as his interests were always elsewhere – much to his father’s frustration, who believed that Michael should focus on his strengths and become an Auror. He did however spend a lot of time at school studying defensive charms; both to appease his dad and with the mind on working with and studying the world’s more dangerous magical creatures as a Magizoologist in his future career.

↳ BACKSTORY

Born and raised a pure blood in Saint Petersburg, Russia to Russian father – Gregory Gregorovitch, curse and hex breaker related to famous Russian wand maker Mykew Gregorovitch, and British mother – Vivian (Lovegood) Gregorovitch, a ministry diplomat in the newly formed Russian Federation (at the time) with a specialty in charms.

With both of his ancestral families being proud wizarding families, Michael got very little exposure to the mugal world while also staring to learn magic at a very young age. When Michael was six years old and was travelling home to Saint Petersburg from visiting his English family for the summer he and his family witnessed a rare encounter of a Graphorn fending off a Horned Serpent in the countryside. This event had a profound effect on Michael and was the spark event what lit the fire of Michael’s interest to study all he could about magical creatures.

At age eleven Michael was invited to attend the Durmstrang Institute but his multi-national and -cultural parents refused to have him attend such a prejudice school, as such he attended Koldovstoretz School of Witchcraft and Wizardry instead. While his focus was always on the Study of Magical Beasts he excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms, while Potions and Divinations was his academic weaknesses.

Both of Michael’s parents participated in the wizarding war (his mother having ties to the Order of the Phoenix) and his father following his mother. His parents returned to Russia and returned to their lives, moving to Moscow where the British consulate is located. His father travelled a lot, working for Gringotts Wizarding Bank, studying as well as breaking hexes and curses. They told Michael honestly about what had happened during the war but in broad strokes – very little detail; they didn’t like talking about it, and rarely did – even before the English Ministry tried to remove the war from history.

In Michael’s 5th year at school his father fell ill when an assistant tripped a curse in a closed and lost vault in Slovenia. His mother moved back to England, insisting that Michael stay in School in Russia until graduation. After graduation, Michael spent six years traveling and apprenticing with Magizoologists around Russia and Eastern Europe using his families’ connections and acquaintances to gain apprenticeships – he even met Charles Weasley once, though it was briefly.

With the opening of the University at Hogwarts, as well as his growing interest in the Scottish Hebridean Black Dragon and his mother’s permanent relocation to England, Michael decided to enroll at the University at Hogwarts. As such, Michael recently arrived in England.

↳ PERSONALITY TRAITS »

{+ positives}  intelligent, loyal, tolerant »

{- negatives}  impolite, deceptive, proud.

↳ BASICS

» BLOOD STATUS:

Pure Blood

» ELEMENTAL POWER:

Air

» AFFINITY LEVEL:

Strong Affinity & Studious (more so when it’s practical)

» DATE OF BIRTH:

1st September

» WAND:

12½ inches, Blackthorn, springy, & Dragon Heartstring.

» FACECLAIM:

* (not sure yet)

NAME CHARACTER IS PLAYED BY Zalgrith

Sample Para:

    Michael steps out of the carriage in Hogsmeade, looking around the town for the first time. The carriage driver grunts at Michael, who takes out a couple of coins to pay for the trip.

    “It’s fine to cast here, right?” Already drawing his wand. The carriage driver nods and Michael flicks his wand “Wingardium Leviosa.” He sets his trunk and respective other bags down on the sidewalk, stepping out of the road as well. “I understand that there’s a hostel for prospective students?”

    “Probably the Hog’s Head Inn, over there.” He points to a building with a big sigh hanging over the door, Hog’s Head Inn.

    “That makes sense. Thanks.” With another flick of his wrist, his baggage gently lifts off the ground. Michael looking around, reading signs and taking in the town walks towards to Inn.

    Stepping through the door, with all his baggage still in tow, Michael walks towards the bar. “Hello. I need a room, please. For the night, at least, but likely for longer.”

    “Why are you bringing all these bags in through the front?” The grouchy elf cleaning the bar asks, not looking up from the countertop.

    “What?” Looking backwards to his floating baggage and back towards the elf. “I’m sorry. What was I supposed to do with my baggage? Leave it in the street?”

    “Yes.”

    “What? Come on, that’s not safe.”

    “Don’t you have any defenses against basic thievery?” The elf grunts.

    “Of course, but wizards can steal to. The good ones are pretty quick.”

    “Wizard thieves?!” The elf looks up at Michael for the first time, taking in his long dark grey cloak hanging over blue jeans and a button up red and black checkered shirt, his long dark brown hair roughly tied into a bun, smiling. “You’re not from around these parts, are you?”

    “If by ‘these parts’ you are referring to England, then yes. Not from around here.” Still standing with his baggage levitating just inside the doorway. “So, about that room?”

    “Leave your bags there, they’ll be taken to a room.”

    “Umm. Which one?”

    The elf grunted in gest, and that was the only answer Michael got.

    Later that day, Michael was walking into the Hogwarts Castle, asking for directions and figuring out how to make it to the University’s administration.

    Michael walks through the large heavy wooden door into an office.

    “Good Day.” Michael gives a polite wave, adjusting his cloak – not sure about the social etiquette. “Excuse me. I was hoping to find someone to help me track down the University Administration; I need to find out the details about my entrance exams .”