#but the council have been coming by and chopping a lot of trees down and trimming and so I guess I was thinking about that lol | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bedlamsbard · 4 years

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Part 13 of the other side AU concept! I am going to eventually pull these apart into parts one (Devil’s in the Details) and two (Carry the Fire) and do edits/rewrites to the extent they meet my standards for going up on AO3 as chaptered, titled fics, but I don’t currently have the mental and emotional energy for that. (Have you...met January 2021?) In the meantime here are my in-progress playlists, if there’s interest: Devil’s in the Details and Carry the Fire.

About 5.8K below the break.

Zeb got up to keep watch, since he had the best ears of the group; Kanan took his place on the tree root and Ezra leaned back to keep his head tipped against Kanan’s knee, barely able to comprehend that single point of connection. Kanan’s presence radiated through the Force with startling solidity, as if after years of shadows someone had suddenly turned on a light in a dark room. Ezra had to fight back his urge to roll around in that strength like an overjoyed Loth-cat in a patch of sunlight.

“I don’t know exactly what happened when the Chimaera went down,” he said eventually. He hesitated, not wanting to get into the fact that at the time he had still been locked in his cell. He didn’t think he could get away without telling them that at all, but he didn’t want to lead off with it if he could help it. “I wasn’t up in the bridge – Thrawn and Pellaeon didn’t really want me near anything important. What I heard later was that the Vong tricked the Scylla and the Charybdis – they’re the only other ships left in the Seventh – into leaving the Chimaera, and once the cruisers were out of reach they hit the Chimaera with everything they had. Their ships aren’t like ours,” he added slowly. “They’re living things, for one – I have no idea how that works. They’re not shielded, but they’ve got some kind of – of miniature black holes that move around on their ships, swallowing up most shots before they can get through at all. Dovin basals, that’s what they call them. TIE pilots don’t know how to deal with them – ship gunners either, for that matter. I don’t know how they work; the Chimaera’s scientists were trying to figure it out.”

He glanced over at Sabine in time to see her eyebrows snap together, obviously trying to work it out for herself without even having seen one. She still had the piece of broken beskar in her hand, like she couldn’t comprehend what had happened to it.

“The Chimaera had already taken a lot of damage by the time the Vong started boarding,” Ezra went on slowly. “Zafira – that’s the death trooper captain – let me out around then, but I was never on the bridge or anything. I guess Thrawn had the idea that the Vong ships might not be able to survive in atmosphere since they’re alive and they live in space, so he started bringing the Chimaera down into the planet’s atmosphere.”

Sabine whistled softly. “Did it work?”

Ezra shrugged. “You saw the Chimaera.” He was quiet for a moment, remembering the desperate battle in the narrow corridors of the star destroyers – lights flickering as power was cut off, then restored, emergency notifications about hull breaches still blaring out absurdly over the sound of blasterfire and Vong war cries. He would have given his right hand for his lightsaber.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and went on, “Thrawn sent Pellaeon and some of the other bridge crew to the auxiliary bridge so that they weren’t in the same place. I know they were arguing about it – I think Pellaeon wanted to evacuate and Thrawn still thought he could win.”

“Zeb and Chop and I searched the bridge,” Sabine said. “There wasn’t much of it left. We had to get into the communications room computers.”

Ezra nodded. “Yeah. I was with the death troopers – we ran into Pellaeon on his way down to the auxiliary bridge and stayed with him. The Vong took Thrawn, the rest of the bridge crew, others – there’s no accurate count on how many died and how many the Vong took captive.” He resisted the urge to say that as far as he was concerned, the Vong were welcome to keep Thrawn; with his luck they’d team up and that was the last thing he wanted or needed. “No one was in the auxiliary bridge when the bridge went; by the time we got there it was too late to pull the Chimaera up. Pellaeon ordered the evacuation then; the Vong were already pulling out. I guess they got what they wanted. By then the Scylla had come back; Charybdis was still trading punches with the Vong out in space.”

He pulled his legs up and rested his chin on his knees. He didn’t think he would ever forget the sight of the Chimaera crashing, which he had seen from one of the evacuating gunships. The shock wave when the star destroyer had struck the ground had tossed the gunships around with toys; two of them had crashed into each other and exploded. Even the Scylla, making a reckless atmospheric approach in an attempt to save as many of the Chimaera’s crewmembers as it could, had been thrown aside. Ezra never wanted to give Imperial any more credit than necessary, but the fact that Commander Kisujo had kept the Scylla from crashing was probably a minor miracle, especially given how much damage the cruiser had already sustained.

“Pellaeon went back afterwards to look for survivors,” Ezra said eventually. “There weren’t any. There were Vong hunting parties all over the place, though, seeding their blasted worldshaping plants.”

Hera stirred. “Those are the plants all over the Chimaera? We thought the ship must have been there for years until we got into the computers.”

Ezra nodded. “This planet is already pretty close to what they like in a world –” He gestured at the jungle that sat heavy and waiting all around them, “– but I guess they do it as a matter of course whenever they’re grounded for a while. Change the chemical composition of the atmosphere, the groundwater, destroy anything that looks like technology, enslave the natives – I don’t think this place has any, though.”

“So what are you doing out here?” Zeb asked over his shoulder.

“Looking for the Vong,” Ezra said. He rubbed his aching shoulder, where a Vong warrior had slammed him into a bulkhead on the Chimaera, and which had gotten further banged up when the shock wave from the Chimaera’s crash had tossed them his gunship around like confetti. Getting thrown into that tree hadn’t helped it either, nor did it help that it was the same shoulder he had been shot in six years ago. “Pellaeon thought he’d send someone who actually had a chance at making it back. And who he didn’t mind losing,” he added sourly. “TIE patrols spotted the Vong camp out this way – or the one who made it back said so, anyway. Pellaeon wants Thrawn back for some reason. And the rest of the crew, I guess. Even if they’re Imps they don’t deserve what the Vong will do to them.”

He fell silent, thinking about some of the holos he had seen of Vong-controlled planets the Chimaera had found. He had only been allowed groundside on one of those occasions, when Thrawn had decided he wanted to see what a Force-user would make of it, and he’d wanted to claw his own skin off within minutes of touching down.

“This isn’t the invasion fleet,” he said eventually. “I don’t know where they are. Thrawn thought it was some kind of advance scout fleet to figure out how hard the Vong would have to hit the Empire.”

Hera exchanged a look with Kanan over Ezra’s head. Sabine and Zeb both swore, Sabine in Mando’a, Zeb in Lasat.

“What?” Ezra said. “What did I miss? Uh, besides everything that happened in the last six years. You can just give me the highlights.”

Sabine rested the piece of beskar on her knee and ticked them off on her fingers. “Tarkin’s dead, Vader’s dead, the Emperor’s dead, Alderaan got blown up, the Empire’s in pieces but Palpatine still tried to destroy it from beyond the grave, the New Republic’s being run by idiots. Did I forget anything? Oh, the Jedi are back but all they do is argue about doctrine.”

Kanan sighed. “That’s an oversimplification.”

“Wait – what?” Ezra said.

“Not everyone on the Provisional Council is an idiot,” Hera said.

“Wait, what?” Ezra felt like he had just been hit with a very large brick. “Palpatine’s dead?” he said, focusing on that.

“Probably,” Zeb said. “Skywalker’s the only one who saw it happen.”

“Who’s – wait, like Anakin Skywalker? But he’s –” He stopped abruptly, remembering what had happened on Malachor.

There was an awkward silence shared between Kanan and Hera; Zeb and Sabine just looked at each other and shrugged. Sabine said, “If Palpatine was still around there wouldn’t be a dozen warlords – mostly former Imperials – running around trying to carve up the Empire between them.”

“Yeah, and maybe the Provisional Council would stop arguing with each other,” Zeb grumbled.

“The Jedi?” Ezra said a little wildly.

“Yeah, all three of them,” Zeb said.

“I’ll explain later,” Kanan said quickly. “It’s not quite as dramatic as it sounds.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you about the Death Star,” Sabine said. “Mark one and mark two.”

“The what?”

“Let’s focus on our current situation, shall we?” Hera said quickly.

“Don’t even get me started on Mandalore.”

“I’ve always tried not to!”

“Hera went to another universe.” Sabine considered. “And she has a baby.”

“What?” Ezra almost fell off the tree root twisting around to look at Kanan and Hera.

Hera bit her lip. “Jacen’s not a baby, he’s six,” she said. She looked at Kanan and smiled, soft and fond. “He’s back on Ryloth with my father.”

“I need a drink,” Ezra muttered, then, louder, “Congratulations. Wait, you, went to another universe?”

“Kanan too,” Sabine said. “Oh, Ahsoka’s back too, but that was a while ago.”

Ezra rubbed at his forehead. “Okay, can we catch me up later?”

“The relevant part is that neither the Imperial Remnant nor the New Republic is in any position to repel a full-scale invasion,” Hera said. She sighed. “The only reason the New Republic let us come out here – officially, I should say – is because there have been rumors about Thrawn for years. If he’s in contact with anyone in the Remnant –”

Ezra shrugged. “Believe me when I say that I’m the last person Thrawn ever talked to. About anything.”

“How much of the Seventh is left?” Kanan asked.

“The Scylla and the Charybdis are the only ships left, and they both got pretty beat up in that last fight with the Vong,” Ezra said, thinking back. Pellaeon didn’t tell him much more than Thrawn did, but he had seen the makeshift command post in the Scylla before he’d left. “Everyone’s taken pretty heavy losses since Lothal –” He looked up suddenly, his heart in his throat. “Lothal –”

“Fine,” Sabine reassured him quickly. “Ryder’s governor again, everyone’s fine, Loth-cats as far as the eye can see.”

Ezra’s shoulders slumped in relief. Eventually, he said, “At least ten thousand back at Chimaera Camp and on Scylla and Charybdis, but I don’t think they’ve got more than fifteen thousand left altogether. I guess it depends how many the Vong took off the Chimaera.”

Kanan drew in his breath sharply. Ezra couldn’t blame him; the Chimaera’s full muster was for forty thousand, but it hadn’t held that many people since well before the purrgil had reduced it substantially. Most star destroyers, Pellaeon had remarked once, seldom held a full muster unless they were expecting to go into battle; in the normal course of things a star destroyer simply didn’t actually need nearly ten thousand stormtroopers who would do nothing but take up resources and start fights.

“That many troops plus the cruisers is enough to give any of the warlords a leg up on the others,” Sabine said practically. “Even without a star destroyer – or Thrawn, for that matter, I can’t see him letting Isard or Zsinj hold his leash.” When Ezra frowned at her, she clarified, “Those are two of the warlords running around making trouble. Isard used to run the ISB, Zsinj is just annoying.”

“He’s gotten a lot of people killed,” Zeb said harshly. “That’s more than ‘just annoying.’”

Sabine made a gesture of apology. When Ezra looked uncertainly between them, Zeb explained, “Before I volunteered for this, I was with New Republic Special Forces – the Pathfinders, not the droppers. The droppers are all crazy.”

Ezra filed that away to ask about later.

Kanan and Hera shared one of those silent moments of communication that Ezra had been so familiar with half a decade earlier, then Hera said, “We’ve stayed here too long already. Ezra, were you on your way to or back from the Yuuzhan Vong encampment?”

“To. I know about where it is. And I can’t sense the Vong –” He glanced at Kanan and saw the older man’s nod, acknowledging that it wasn’t any fault in Ezra’s command of the Force, “– but I can sense the captives they’ve got. And what they’re doing to this planet.”

Kanan nodded again, his expression grim.

“Will you take us there?” Hera asked. “We’d better see this, and then we can decide what we’re going to do. Regardless, the New Republic has to know.”

Ezra nodded, a little puzzled at the odd tone in her voice, then realized abruptly what might be going through her head right now. “I’m not one of them,” he said. “I didn’t switch sides. It wasn’t all awful, but I spent most of the past six years in a cell except when Thrawn decided to haul me out in case having a Force-user around helped. No one on the Chimaera ever forgot whose fault it was they were out there,” he added, gritting his teeth against the sudden quaver in his voice. He touched a finger to the white streak in his hair; it was probably invisible in this poor light, but it was part of the reason he kept most of his hair cropped short these days. “I got this the last time some of them decided I should pay for that and shot me in the head. That was the fourth time someone tried. Thrawn executed a hundred and thirty-seven people for it, including all the death trooper officers.”

He heard Zeb’s growl, low and furious, and the leather of Sabine’s gloves creak as she closed a fist.

“I’m not an Imperial,” Ezra said, fisting his own hands against his knees. He had nightmares about that day sometimes, about getting dragged out of his cell and down to the starboard hangar bay; the death trooper commander, who had been in charge of the attempted lynching, had wanted as many crewmen as possible to see it. Ezra had heard later that there had been a significant number of the conspirators who had wanted to execute Thrawn as well, blaming him for bringing Ezra onboard, getting them lost in the Unknown Regions, and attracting the attention of the Yuuzhan Vong. As it was, Thrawn, Pellaeon, and most of the other senior officers who weren’t also in on the conspiracy had been locked in one of the conference rooms before they had managed to get out. He had found out later that Thrawn had actually wanted to execute more of the conspirators, but had decided not to under the circumstances. As a result Ezra had spent most of his time in the medbay worried that one of those who had escaped the executions would come after him to finish the job.

He looked at Kanan, knowing that he would be able to sense it even if he couldn’t see it, and added, “I’m still a Jedi.”

“I know,” Kanan said, reaching down to squeeze Ezra’s shoulder.

Ezra felt something tight inside him unknot. He reached up to grasp Kanan’s fingers, feeling sick with relief.

“I believe you,” Hera said. She looked over his head to Kanan, who nodded in response. “I believe you,” she repeated. “We’ll have a job of it convincing New Republic Intelligence, but let’s not borrow trouble before we have to.”

Before they left, Ezra found his sniper rifle and the sheared-off barrel. He handed the barrel to Sabine so that she could inspect the severed edge, comparing it to the dead amphistaff, and broke down the rifle until it was in its heavy blaster pistol configuration. He packed the rifle components away rather than leave them there; the machinists back at Chimaera Camp would either be able to repair them or use them for another purpose. The pistol went on his belt in the holster he had brought in case he needed to use it in that configuration.

Sabine returned the barrel to him and regarded the amphistaff’s corpse thoughtfully. Ezra had already tried and failed to get his vibroknife out of its neck, to his disgust.

“Can I take this with us or can they track it?”

“No idea,” Ezra said. “It’s never come up before.”

“Don’t take the risk,” Hera said.

Sabine sighed regretfully but admitted, “I’m guessing this isn’t the last time we’re going to run into these things.”

“The Vong are worse than grass ticks,” Ezra said, looking around until he found where he had dropped his night vision goggles. When Zeb reached for them, Ezra shook his head and explained about the amphistaff poison, which had already eaten through the lenses and left a brown patch on the ground where the goggles had lain. Ezra wouldn’t touch them again; he had seen too many people die from a drop of it on bare skin. It ate through stormtrooper armor only a little more slowly than it did cloth. At least five people from the Chimaera had had limbs amputated where they must have touched somewhere it had been, even if the venom itself was no longer visible.

“I’m really starting to dislike these things,” Zeb growled.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Ezra said. He looked around until he saw the thud bug that the Vong warrior had thrown at him early in the fight, and found it lodged into the thick bark of one of the nearby trees, which must have prevented it from returning to the warrior the way most thud bugs did. The fact that it hadn’t taken a chunk out of the tree impressed him, since he had seen them rip holes in durasteel plating a few times. That must have been very hard wood.

He pointed the thud bug out to Zeb and Sabine; Kanan and Hera were talking quietly to each other a little ways away. “We’ve been calling them thud bugs – they’re some kind of beetle; they can change their gravity somehow to hit incredibly hard. The Vong throw them – razor bugs too. That name’s probably self-explanatory.”

Sabine fingered a scratch on what remained of her armor. She looked oddly unbalanced without the missing portion of her breast plate, which she had stowed in one of her hip-pouches. “Ran into a couple of those. Lightsaber goes through them,” she noted, glancing at Kanan.

“Does it go through the armor?” Ezra asked curiously, hoping the answer was yes. He would feel better to know that something did.

She and Zeb both shook their heads. “Kanan’s real good at finding soft and tender places, though.”

Kanan turned his head at the sound of his name. Ezra felt the flicker of his attention at the edge of his mind; he hadn’t been listening in on their conversation. He was exquisitely aware of Kanan’s presence now that he knew the other man was there; if he had been paying more attention he might have realized when the Ghost arrived in-system. As it was, he had had his mind focused on the area immediately around him, trying to make certain that the animals and plants of the planet would tell him the Yuuzhan Vong crept up on him. He hadn’t flung his mind wide into the Force. No one on the Chimaera was Force-sensitive; the Empire screened even the weakest Force-sensitives out of the service.

He might have been more concerned about the way his awareness of Kanan’s presence was blotting out his awareness of the rest of the Force, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Kanan was here. All he wanted to do was creep over to Kanan’s side and bask in the sheer strength of his presence in the Force, like a Loth-cat in a patch of sunlight.

They left soon afterwards. Ezra took the lead with Zeb, wishing for the night vision goggles but knowing he didn’t need them. Even before Malachor he had trained blindfolded with Kanan – which he still remembered vigorously protesting at the time – and afterwards he had worked twice as hard at it, even though he had never told Kanan as much. He didn’t need his eyes when he had the Force, and with all his attention on the Force, the planet itself would tell him if the Vong were approaching, let alone Zeb’s sensitive ears and nose. Zeb had confided to Ezra that this planet reminded him of Lasan before its fall – Lira San, he had said, was nice enough, but somewhere between too similar and not similar enough to be comfortable for long. If Lira San was anything like, Ezra didn’t want to visit; he had already had enough of jungle planets and this was the only one he had been to.

He pushed his awareness of Kanan’s nearness to the back of his mind with a force of effort. Six months ago he had woken up from a sound sleep, shocked and shaking and knowing that some essential truth of the universe had just changed. Since it had happened he had touched that knowledge a hundred times a day, trying to work it out without having any way to do so. He had spent long hours in meditation, reaching out into the Force and falling just short every time. He had thought he might go mad with frustration. Thrawn, who never missed anything, had certainly noticed, even if Ezra had refused to say what had caused his sudden discontent. If Ezra had thought that there was any way he could get back to known space on his own, he might have made a break for it. He had considered it – Thrawn had certainly made the point enough that as a Force-user Ezra should have been able to – but by the time he had nerved himself up for it the Vong had begun hunting them in deadly earnest.

Being back here with them felt odd.

Ezra had certainly dreamed about it enough times, and if he hadn’t been so aware of his bad shoulder he might have thought that he was back on the Chimaera, sound asleep. He knew it was a danger, too; that his awareness of them ran the risk of distracting him at a crucial moment. As much as he pushed his knowledge of their presence away, trying to keep his mind only on the simple facts rather than the emotions involved, he knew he was putting them all at risk. He had to trust that between the five of them, they would be able to tell if Vong warriors searching for their missing patrol approached.

It took the better part of three hours before they reached the edge of the jungle. Halfway through, Ezra and Kanan both sensed the passage of another Vong patrol – sensed the wildlife and plant life reacting to it, rather – but the warriors were far away and showed no sign of approaching them. Dawn was filtering through the forest canopy in a gray-green haze as they ghosted up to the edge of the tree line. Like the path Ezra had taken earlier, the jungle ended barely a meter short of the cliff-face, forming a kind of bowl around the valley below. Ezra eased forward on his belly, pulling the riflescope out of his pack. He could sense the passage of another Vong patrol on the rim of the cliff, but it wasn’t near enough to be concerned with unless they were here for a while. He didn’t intend to stick around longer than he could help it.

The valley below boasted a kidney-shaped lake with large patches of some kind of plant life growing on the surface – Ezra reached out curiously with his mind and winced when he realized that they were Vong rather than native. The jungle around it had been cut back to make space for what he thought were either structures or grounded ships, all of them looking out of place here – not quite the right color or texture, with shapes that were subtly off enough to make him wince. He counted several dozen that looked like enormously oversized snail shells, a kind of orange-y green with a faint oily sheen to them. Something else, as large as a cruiser, he thought might be a grounded ship; its material was something like coral, or at least that was what it looked like through his riflescope.

Figures moved through the structures and ships – a few he recognized as Vong warriors, each of them unique in their vonduun crab armor; others were Vong from the different castes. He could sense humans down there, the prisoners taken off the Chimaera, but couldn’t spot them.

Sabine and Hera eased up on either side of him, Hera with a pair of macrobinoculars and Sabine with her rangefinder lowered. Ezra didn’t have to turn his head to know that Zeb and Kanan were hanging back, keeping watch against a Vong patrol.

Keeping his voice barely more than a whisper, Ezra pointed out the grounded cruiser-analogue, then the coralskipper starfighters that passed by overhead before landing alongside the starship. He hadn’t seen them in person before, just in holograms.

“Fast?” Hera asked him very quietly.

“About the same as a TIE, I think,” he murmured back. “They’ve got dovin basals – miniature black holes – like the cruisers, too, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Hmm.”

He had to grin at the hint of considering challenge in that syllable. If anyone could not only outfly a coralskipper solo but also shoot it down – the TIEs and handful of remaining TIE Defenders had to go after them in swarms – then it was Hera.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Ezra reached out with the Force, sorting through the thousands of human minds as he searched for the alien one. He couldn’t sense the Vong and their living tools at all.

“Thrawn’s there,” he said after a moment, not bothering to conceal his disappointment the way he had done when Pellaeon had asked him to find out if the grand admiral was still alive. He was pretty sure Pellaeon had been able to tell his feelings anyway, but it was the principle of the thing; Pellaeon was fully capable of having him shot as more trouble than he was worth.

Sabine snorted softly. “Might have saved us some trouble if he was dead,” she grumbled.

“Tell me about it,” Ezra muttered back. He peered through the riflescope again, letting the Force direct him. The shell-structures seemed to be where the prisoners were being kept, Thrawn among them. He couldn’t tell exactly which one Thrawn was in, but he supposed that when the Imperials went after him they would probably want to break all their missing troops out as well, since it would be about as much trouble. Unless Pellaeon tried to make him do it on his own, of course, Ezra thought, and started to grimace at the thought before he realized abruptly that that was no longer an option Pellaeon had.

He was reaching back reflexively for Kanan before he even realized he was doing so, his mind brushing against Kanan’s in the Force for a brief instant of reassurance. He felt Kanan’s response as if his master had gripped him briefly on the shoulder, calm and collected, though he knew Kanan hadn’t moved from his sentry position. Ezra turned his face down, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Sabine elbowed him gently. “Hey,” she whispered. “It’s all right. We’ve got you.”

Six years ago Ezra might have said something like you took your time about it, but he just nodded. If they could have come sooner they would have, and if they had come sooner, then Kanan – Kanan might not be back. Six years in the Unknown Regions with Thrawn and his merry band of sociopaths was a sacrifice he was happy to make for Kanan’s return.

They watched the Vong camp for another two hours, watching the mist burn off the lake as the sun rose. Some of the lower caste Vong went into the shell-structures, probably to feed the Imperial prisoners; none of the Imperials came out. Ezra did a rapid estimate with the Force and came up with somewhere between three and four thousand prisoners, which he supposed would make Pellaeon happy; the worst case scenario had been that all the crewmembers unaccounted for from the Chimaera were dead. Hera didn’t look thrilled when he conveyed this information to her.

“Well, we’re not putting them all on the Ghost, that’s for sure,” Zeb grumbled; he was close enough to overhear.

All Hera said was, “I suppose we’ll have to talk to Captain Pellaeon.”

Not long after this exchange, Kanan said softly, “There’s a patrol about two klicks west of us. We’d better clear off, if you’ve got all you need.”

“Not all we need, but all we’re going to get, I think,” Hera murmured. The three of them retreated from the cliff face into the cover of the jungle.

Ezra got to his feet, wincing at muscles that had gone sore after two hours lying on the ground. Kanan was still sitting cross-legged on the forest floor, facing away from them with his eyes closed and his expression calm. Ezra was barely aware of stepping towards him until he found himself reaching down to touch Kanan’s shoulder, wanting to reassure himself of Kanan’s presence. Kanan turned his face up towards him, opening his eyes, and smiled. Ezra drew his hand back, embarrassed, then grabbed Kanan’s forearm to help pull him to his feet, the hard edges on Kanan’s bracer digging into his fingers.

Despite their precarious position, Ezra still rather wanted to drape himself on Kanan’s neck and weep.

Hera came up behind him and put a hand briefly on his shoulder. “Let’s get out of here before Chopper decides to take the Ghost and come find us,” she said.

Ezra nodded, then nearly had a heart attack as Zeb ghosted out of the jungle to join them; his purple fur and green bodysuit and armor blended in perfectly with the foliage. If this was true of all the Lasat Ezra was definitely never going to Lira San.

They left silently, moving through the undergrowth with surprising delicacy for the size of their group. Ezra, reaching out with the Force, found the passage of the same Vong patrol that Kanan had sensed. If the disappearance of the patrol they had killed had been noted, it wasn’t evident from the way the Vong had acted. Ezra would have thought that they would have had better security, but apparently not. Either that, or the Force had led them to avoid it on their approach.

The sun continued to rise steadily as they made their way single-file through the jungle. Zeb took point this time, with Sabine just behind him. While Zeb blended into the forest around them, the sunlight through the tree canopy dappled Sabine’s armor as she moved through it; Ezra couldn’t decide what colors it was and suspected he wouldn’t know for sure until they were back at the Ghost. Kanan and Hera brought up the rear, nearly soundless though Ezra was excruciatingly aware of Kanan’s presence.

After a sleepless night and a fight with the Vong, not to mention the intense emotion of the past few hours, he was so tired that he was nearly delirious with it. Everything had taken on a slightly bright edge; he could have fought if he had to, but he was just as glad for the moment that neither the Vong nor the native wildlife crossed paths with them. After almost a full day out here, he was also extremely aware of the fact that he had spent most of the past six years locked in a cell, with only occasional breaks to go nearly get killed, either by the Imperials or by whoever they happened to be fighting at the moment. He was almost tired enough that the cell was starting to sound appealing.

The day wore on, the heat and humidity growing steadily. Ezra kept his weary eyes on Sabine’s gaudily painted jetpack in front of him; it wasn’t the same color that it had been six years earlier – he would have been shocked if it had been – but the basic winged design was more or less the same, though he could spot differences. He was so focused on that to stay on his feet that he didn’t realize they had reached their destination until the flicker of movement behind transparisteel caught his eye.

Ezra stiffened, his hand going to his blaster. It took him a few moments for his gaze to focus; he was expecting nothing more than the endless expanse of forest, not the Ghost parked in a clearing just barely large enough for the ship. He stared blankly at the ship, unable to believe that it was actually here after so many years.

Kanan closed a hand on his shoulder as the ramp unfolded. Chopper, apparently unchanged from the last time Ezra had seen him, appeared at the top of the ramp, waving one of his manipulators and shouting in annoyance about how they had gone for hours, they could have died, how dare they leave him all alone. He stopped midway through his tirade, apparently having spotted Ezra.

Kanan pushed Ezra forward gently. Hera was walking past him, her own shoulders slumping with weariness; Sabine paused to turn on one foot, her gaze traveling over the clearing. Zeb was already on his way up the ramp with a comment to Chopper.

Ezra took one step forward, then another one. Chopper came down the ramp towards him as he reached it, chirping a cautious question.

“Yeah,” Ezra said. “Yeah, it’s me.”

He started to kneel down so that they were on the same level, then overbalanced and sat down hard instead. Chopper rolled up to him, close enough to touch but not doing so. Ezra reached out, hesitating for an instant before he laid his hands on Chopper’s chassis. The metal was warm to touch, the pain smooth beneath his fingers except where it was starting to chip away. He could feel the hum of the droid’s inner workings against his palms.

“Yeah, Chop,” he said again, and started to cry, his head bent forward against Chopper’s dome so that none of the others could see. “It’s me. It’s me.”

#other side au tag #cut scenes and concept writing #as always comments are appreciated #there's less in the details playlist because I'm working on the fire part of the story at present

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since0202 · 4 years

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Chapter 7: Recast

December

With the last week of finals completed, Grace hurtled toward winter break. She was exhausted after the constant studying but thought she faired pretty well. After the night with Jacob, she had been more proactive about inviting him around, studying down in the living room and letting Charlie kick him out when it got close to bed.

Grace was somehow able to drag Bella out to Port Angeles for some last minute Christmas shopping. She was surprised Bella had agreed, but then realized that she had just gone and saw a movie with Jessica (questionable choice of first friend after a breakup) and it seemed pretty successful. She was waking up a little.

As they strode arm and arm down the streets of Port Angeles and popped in and out of shops looking for the perfect gift for Charlie (they’d settled eventually on a new fishing pole and tackle box, equipped with the finest lures Port Angeles had to offer), Bella broke into more serious conversation.

“So, what’s going on with you and Jake?”

“What do you mean?” Grace asked, genuinely curious and taking a sip of her chai tea.

“You know what I mean,” Bella pressed, “He’s always around, he slept over, he calls you all the time. He seems smitten.”

“We’re just friends,” Grace said simply, and when she looked over at Bella, her eyebrows raised in doubt, Grace more forcefully stated, “Honestly! He’s becoming my best friend, but that’s it. He’s getting me back onto the rez slowly and just looking after me because Billy asked.”

“Okay, so do you only see him as a friend or is it mutual? Because Jake definitely likes you.” Bella offered. Grace hesitated, trying to be careful with her words.

“It’s not like that. I can’t explain it but it’s something different. Of course I like him,” Bella mocked a look of shock and awe and Grace laughed bumping into her lightly, “No I mean, you have to like someone to want to be around them all the time. But it’s different with Jake. You just feel completely natural, completely safe. It’s like a magnet. It’s easy to be with him. But truly, it’s just a friendship.”

“So the sleeping over thing was a fluke?”

“I don’t know,” Grace admitted looking up at the sky. “That felt different than any other interaction. Every moment with Jake feels brand new, so it’s hard to piece together what it all means at the moment. But the great thing about that is that I don’t need to know right now. We’re good just like this. Simple.”

“Simple.” Bella echoed, a sadness pulling at her voice.

“Come on” Grace bucked her and threw her a smile to keep her up, “Let’s head to the bookstore real quick, I have one last gift and then we can go.”

January

Winter break had come and went and with the solace and cold, came a lot of thinking. Grace thought constantly about her conversation with Bella regarding Jake. What was it exactly? She couldn’t really define the relationship, it felt tenuous but strong. Affectionate but friendly. Slow going but hot to the touch.

Hanging out with Jake didn’t really clear anything up for her. They were the same old friendly, comfortable, boisterous pair. She’d hang out with him in the garage while he tuned up the Rabbit and when it got too cold he’d take her inside and plop her on their tiny loveseat with hot cocoa and cheesy action movies. Sometimes Quil and Embry would appear and they’d venture into the woods or to the tiny mainstreet to get a snack, but most often it was just Jake and Grace.

Once school picked back up, Grace felt that ache and pull grow more when she was away from Jake for extended periods of time. This was even more confusing.

Then, one day when she picked up the receiver after school, and stated clearly “Jake.” she was bemused to hear a low rumbling laugh on the other end that said “Not quite.”

“Billy, hi,” Grace recognized him immediately.

“Listen, I know you’ve been coming out to the rez a lot more, so I was wondering if you would do me a favor and run an errand for me.”

Grace raised an eyebrow. “Me? Why?” Why not ask Jake? She wondered.

As if in answer to her unspoken question, Billy replied, “Jacob’s a little adverse to running errands for me, especially when they involve Sam Uley.”

Grace’s breath hitched in her throat. She’d seen Sam milling about a bit on the odd occasion they frequented the little downtown street on the rez. Each time it had filled her with a feeling that she could only describe as hunger, but not physical hunger, like an itching desire to turn over a rock just to see what was hiding underneath. She felt a visceral connection to Sam Uley without ever knowing him--it felt like a taut thread that ran from her middle and connected to him. Whenever they made eye contact, the thread twanged painfully and tugged at her insides, begging her to move forward, but she resisted. To this, the thread vibrated uncomfortably and Grace would quickly try to duck behind Jacob or change direction to gain some distance.

“Uh, I mean, I’m not sure how much help I can be on that front, but what do you need?” The hunger spoke for her.

“Just a box of old council written histories. He’s been meaning to come by and grab it but has been,” he paused, “A little busy. Would you mind next time you’re out this way coming to grab it and swing it by his and Emily’s place for me?”

“Sure, I’m doing a pickup for the Wilo’s tomorrow afternoon, I’ll come by then, yeah?” Who was this person that was so willingly agreeing to an errand that would possibly bring her within spitting distance of Sam?

“Sounds good, thanks Grace, hach tochoktiya.” he hung up and Grace held the receiver to her ear for a little while after the phone had been disconnected.

Sam Uley, huh?

------

After dropping Bella off at work, Grace had coasted down to the rez and completed her grocery run for the Wilo’s. After waving and hopping back into her truck and heading toward Billy’s house, she suddenly felt her palms go sweaty.

At least she’d get to see Jake.

When she got to his house and popped out of the truck, she thought she’d look up to see Jake jogging around the side of the house, beaming, but he was nowhere to be seen. Confused, she shoved her hands in her pockets and walked up to the house knocking on the door. Billy pulled the door open and maneuvered aside to let her in.

“Where’s Jake?” Grace asked casually.

“Out with Quil and Embry, I think.” Billy brushed off the question and wheeled to the table to put his hand on the top of the box. “This is what I need you to take to Sam’s. And here’s the address,” he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it Grace.

“Right, yeah,” Grace said inspecting the paper. “Down, close to La Push beach?”

“You got it--better get moving before it gets too dark.” Billy prompted. Grace raised an eyebrow at him and headed out the door, picking up the lightweight box and out the door.

As she pulled onto the lawn of the little bungalow tucked into the trees and facing the beach, a worrying pain shot through her.

Time to get this over with.

She grabbed the cardboard box from the passenger seat and shut the door with a loud bang. It must have alerted them inside because Emily, Sam’s fiance, peered out the gauzy curtains with a reassuring smile and tentative wave.

Grace raised her hand and gave a short wave as she climbed the steps of the porch. Emily opened the door and greeted her warmly.

“Grace! So good to see you,” Emily gave her a one armed hug.

“Aah, so Billy wanted me to bring this by,” Grace held out the cardboard box. As Emily took it from her hand, Sam appeared behind her in shorts and a sleeveless sweatshirt. A little light for January weather, no?

“Grace.” Sam nodded matter of factly from the doorway. Grace felt her stomach lurch and she swallowed hard. She was going to face this head on at least.

“Sam, good to see you,” she said.

“Come in for a minute,” Sam replied, gesturing inside. Grace automatically took a step back down the porch.

“Yes, please! I’ve just made some tea.” Emily reached her hand out to her as Same took the box from her.

“I-I just had some errands to run and-”

“Come in.” Sam said a little more forceful and Grace felt an automatic need to obey. It was a feeling she was unfamiliar with and didn’t really like.

As she crossed the threshold, she couldn’t help but feel comforted by the warmly decorated home. Familiar relics from the rez hung on the walls and it smelled like toasted bread. She sat down at the kitchen table that was in the center of the wide open room. Emily set some tea down in front of her and retreated behind the island in the kitchen to finish cutting some vegetables.

“How are you doing?” Sam asked.

“Uh, yeah good thanks.” Grace said dismissively looking around. Sam raised his eyebrows.

“Have you gone to see elder Ti’Hal since the gathering?”

“Was I supposed to?” Grace said, a little irritated.

“No, just thought you would is all, considering what she gave you,” he gestured to her necklace. Grace automatically touched it. The low rumbling started in ears again, her feet vibrating. “You know what that is right?” She could feel her fingertips tingle and a searing hot wave worked its way down her throat and into her belly where Sam’s pull sat and squirmed.

“Stop.” Thunder rattled outside and a cool wind started to blow through the trees.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Sam’s gaze was intense. Grace’s eyes, swimming in and out of focus, landed on Emily who had stopped chopping and was watching her carefully.

“What do you mean?” Grace choked out. Her hand clutched around the dark stone of her necklace and she felt her body sway. She tried to stay focused, but the heat shot through her extremities and pooled in her feet and hands. She could feel it rising to the back of her head.

“You’ve been called here. And instead of meeting your fate, you’ve been running from it. Ignoring it. And now we’re here.”

“Sam,” Emily’s small voice echoed in Grace’s head. “Is she alright?” Grace was turning bright red, sweat pouring from her face, and she started to gasp for air.

“She’s fine.” Sam almost said it as a command. Grace didn’t want any of this. Whatever Sam was doing, she was not okay with it. She felt her body screaming from the inside out, it felt like her skin was being pulled apart like loose stringy dough.

“No.” Grace managed to shout in between ragged breaths. Sam’s eyes narrowed. Emily stepped forward concerned.

“You can’t run from this Grace.” Sam compelled her. Suddenly, Grace was on her feet. The pull was becoming too much--whatever this was, she wanted no part in it.

The chair clattered to the floor behind her and she clutched her side as she stumbled backwards toward the door. Sam was on his feet immediately.

“Grace stop!” he commanded. Grace felt that familiar, but unwanted pull in her stomach, and angrily pulled back against it. She wouldn’t be tamed by whatever this was. Her feet hesitated for a moment but then she turned and stumbled quickly toward the door. Sam was after her but by the time her foot reached porch steps, she felt her entire body tear apart. The world wavered in front of her and then she was gone and everything went black.

Sam crossed the threshold and looked around frantically. She was gone. The thunder rolled over the sea and Emily’s windchimes tinkled behind him. Bewildered, Sam jumped off the porch and looked around the clearing. There was no sign of her.

One moment she was there, and the next she wasn’t. And then, her eyes fluttered open. She was on the forest floor staring up the light shimmering down through the trees. For a moment her focus went in and out and then she noticed chirping above her. A small wisp of smoke unfurled around her and she heard a faint humming and shuffling. Only then did she realize she was covered with a blanket.

Grace stirred from her place on the forest floor and lifted herself up onto her elbows to look around. Her head felt cracked in two. When she looked around her, she saw the hunched form of elder Ti’Hal. She was burning a bushel of fir and herbs that she had tied tightly together over the small fire that she had built. She was humming to herself and didn’t pay Grace any mind.

“What happened?” Grace croaked. Ti’Hal took her time turning to look at her from her spot by the fire.

“You recast.” Ti’Hal said calmly.

“What?” she was groggy and thought that maybe her words were altering in her head. Ti’Hal was by her side in a moment and Grace couldn’t quite fathom how the old woman could move so quickly.

“Recast, you altered your place on this plane and reoriented in a new space. It’s a state of being that until now was buried deep in your blood, and it triggered when you confronted those you are meant to protect.” Ti’Hal stated this with such clarity that it rang clear as a bell in Grace’s mind. A crushing sense of understanding bloomed in her and the uncomfortable pull she had felt before in Sam’s presence unwound itself in relief and bloomed into recognition.

All at once she felt at ease, but her mind still stumbled with confusion.

“Who I’m meant to protect?! What do you mean, Ti’Hal? Why am I here?” Grace was still slurring a little bit and Ti’Hal placed a cool hand to her forehead to push her gently back to the earth. Grace felt the embrace of the forest floor around her.

Ti’Hal clucked and shooshed her as she began humming again. Grace stayed prone trying to regain her thoughts. Her whole body felt scrambled. She couldn’t remember how she got here and the last thing she remembered was feeling like she was being pulled apart as her blood boiled.

Sam had done this somehow, and Billy had orchestrated it. Grace felt so stupid that she had fallen for such an easy trap. But what still didn’t make sense was why she was lured into a trap in the first place. Billy never meant her any harm. But Sam had spoken about fate and avoiding her place here. What had he meant exactly? She felt her body vibrate again and panicked.

Ti’Hal raised an eyebrow and scanned Grace’s body with her eyes. “You need to calm yourself. Bring your awareness to your fingers and toes, grab hold of your shaking veins between your fists and hold it there. Breath into your belly and pull down into the ground. Stay focused on the light around you.” Ti’Hal coached calmly as she held onto Grace’s clenched fist.

The vibrations dissipated and Grace felt clearer this time.

“What did Sam do to me?!”

“It’s not young Uley’s fault, dear. But it is your destiny. You are blessed with the ability to recast between this world and the next. You are tied to the wolf warriors as their protector, their shield. You are the spirit bird, Alo.”

-------

Hi! You’ve reached Charlie, Bella, and Grace. We’re not home right now, please leave a message and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can. If this is a police matter, please call the station.

Thanks! Talk to you soon.

“Grace?” Pause. “It’s Jake. Where have you been? I haven’t been able to get a hold of you for like two weeks now. You’re not at school, you’re not with Bella, you’re not at home. I’m getting really worried. Can you call me back? I just-” Pause. “I’ve heard that you’ve been hanging out with Sam and his cult lately. I don’t believe it and Billy said I should just leave it alone but-” Pause. Sigh. “Listen, just call me when you get a chance. Whether you’re mad at me or you don’t want to hang out anymore, I just-”

The voicemail tape cut off as Bella picked up the receiver.

“Jake?”

#twilight #twilightfanfiction #fanfic #jacobblackxoc #jacobxoc #jacob black #bella swan #edward cullen #the cullens #new moon #a monster lives here #chapter 7

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apathetic-revenant · 4 years

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tidbits from the Fellowship of the Ring director + writers’ commentary track (feat. Peter Jackson, Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens)

the prologue, and issue of how to work all the exposition about the Ring into the film, was a source of great difficulty for the writers and went through a lot of iterations. in some versions of the script Gandalf would have told Frodo the story of the Ring in Bag End as he does in the books. at one point they decided to scrap the prologue altogether, only to get a note back from New Line that they had to have it, so Peter, Fran and Philippa had to assemble it from the existing footage they had while they were in England putting the soundtrack together.

the framing of the prologue and exactly what information would be in it also went through a lot of changes before it was ultimately decided that it needed to be from the 'perspective' of the Ring itself since the Ring is in a way a central character in the story. at one point the narration would have been done by Frodo, from the perspective of him writing the book after the quest was over, but it was felt that he didn't have the necessary perspective to make it work and that an immortal character like Galadriel worked better.

although prologue!Bilbo is only seen for a few seconds, costume designer Ngila Dickson meticulously made sure his outfit matched the descriptions given in The Hobbit, including the brass buttons on his waistcoat that he later loses while escaping the caves.

the population of Hobbitton in the opening was mostly recruited from farmers and people living around Matamata, where the Hobbitton exterior set was built. two of the hobbit extras later got married after first meeting on set.

the shot of Sam with the flowers in the extended cut is the only time in the films Sam was actually shown gardening.

the shots of Frodo greeting Gandalf were done with four actors--Elijah Wood, Ian McKellen, a small scale double for Frodo and a large scale double for Gandalf. when the closeup is on Gandalf, Ian McKellen is interacting with four-foot-tall Kiran Shah. when the closeup is on Frodo, Elijah Wood is interacting with almost-eight-foot-tall Paul Randall.

while many of the scale shots of the hobbits are actually done using very simple techniques, Peter Jackson chose to invest time in a few impressive ones early on so as to help really sell the idea for the audience from the beginning. one of these is the shot of Bilbo taking Gandalf's hat and staff as Gandalf enters Bag End--it was actually a very complicated shot that involved making big and small versions of the props and then carefully merging them together with CGI.

most of the Bag End scenes were shot by filming the actors on two different sets, a large-scale one for Ian Holm's scenes and a small-scale one for Ian McKellen's scenes, and then merging them together. however the scene of Bilbo serving Gandalf tea was done with both actors on the same set and used forced perspective--there are actually two tables of different sizes lined up to look like one table, with Gandalf interacting with the larger table and Bilbo with the smaller one.

Gandalf hitting his head on the ceiling was an unscripted accident left in because it worked so well.

before including Thorin's map from The Hobbit in Bag End, the writers made sure to double-check where the map canonically wound up in the books. they gave the task of researching this to Henry Mortensen, Viggo Mortensen's son and a diehard Lord of the Rings fan.

Peter Jackson expected to get pushback from the studio about the amount of smoking in the film, and in particular was ready to have to fight to keep in the scene of Gandalf and Bilbo smoking before the party. however no one ever brought it up at all.

most of the hobbit actors in the party were friends and relatives of the cast and crew. although the books state that Bilbo invited 144 hobbits to his special table, "due to budget constraints" the actual amount of hobbits at the party is probably closer to about 100. viewers are advised not to count them too closely.

some of the hobbit children listening to Bilbo's story were played by Peter Jackson and Fran Walsh's own children. one of them, Billy Jackson, was the only actor in the movie not wearing a wig, because he already had "naturally perfect hobbit hair."

the "Proudfeet!" shot was framed as a homage to Ralph Bahksi's animated Lord of the Rings, which was what originally got Peter Jackson into LOTR.

during Bilbo's speech, the polystyrene birthday cake had so many candles on it it actually caught on fire and started to burn. the take was going so well, though, no one wanted to interrupt Ian Holm, so the cake is just sort of quietly burning away in the background while Bilbo talks.

the seventeen-year time skip in the books had to be compressed in the movie because they needed to get the story going quicker and keep up momentum. Gandalf's appearance when he comes back to Bag End is meant to imply that he's even more disheveled than usual because he's ridden pretty much nonstop all the way to Minas Tirith and back.

the scenes of Gandalf in Minas Tirith were the first time Ian McKellen had been in his Gandalf the Grey costume and makeup for months, as when those were shot he had been filming as Gandalf the White for some time.

there was discussion about using subtitles onscreen to identify locations, since there was worry that audiences would have a hard time following all the different places seen throughout the movie, but ultimately it was decided that this might feel too cheesy so it was dropped.

the voice of the Ringwraith that shows up in the Shire looking for Bagginssss was done by Andy Serkis.

the Green Dragon scene was cut for time in the theatrical release, which Peter Jackson was disappointed by both because it was a chance to see the main hobbit cast in their 'natural environment' before the adventure really starts, but also because it demonstrated the hobbit tendency to be gossipy, insular and distrustful of the outside, a trait they had some difficulty getting across in the films.

the full Ring poem is never heard in the movies; the filmmakers wanted to get it in there and at one point it was recited in full during the Council of Elrond, but it wound up being cut.

the Ring 'speaks' with Sauron's voice at certain moments to try to emulate the sense of psychological horror and dread associated with descriptions of the Ring in the books, which was very hard to replicate on film.

in one very early draft of the script, Merry and Pippin would have been introduced when they were caught eavesdropping on Frodo and Gandalf along with Sam.

Jackson chose to shoot the duel between Saruman and Gandalf as physically as possible because he didn't like "wizard fights" in movies "where old guys shoot lightning out of their fingers at each other" (gotta disagree with you there Pete).

Billy Boyd offered to use a Gloucester accent for Pippin instead of his natural Scottish one, but tended to lose some of his comic timing while doing so. it was decided that the Tooks had enough of a Scottish vibe that the natural accent worked better for the character anyway.

the shot of the hobbits falling off the cliff was one of the first things ever shot for the series. it was also the cause of one of the few serious accidents during filming--one of the stuntmen dislocated his shoulder during the fall, apparently just as a freak accident as the stunt itself was not especially dangerous.

the scene where the hobbits first meet the Black Rider looks like it's in remote wilderness somewhere but was actually shot in a park in the middle of Wellington.

the insects coming out of the ground while the hobbits are hiding is meant to convey the idea that everything living tries to instinctively flee from the Ringwraiths, but Jackson admits he isn't sure if that came across well on film.

the Buckleberry Ferry almost sank between takes and had to be saved with bilge pumps.

like Bag End, the Prancing Pony set was built twice, once at normal scale and once at large scale to film the hobbit actors on. some of the people seen walking past the hobbits in the backgrounds are actually on stilts.

the basis of the Ringwraith scream sound was provided by Fran Walsh screaming while suffering from a throat infection.

no real trees were harmed during the scene of the Isengard orcs chopping down Fangorn Forest: it was two fake trees shot from different angles as they were pulled down.

the question of whether it was appropriate to reference tomatoes in the Weathertop scene (since they are new world vegetables) was apparently a source of some contention among the writers. Peter Jackson was of the opinion that in a movie with a Balrog, a tomato should not strain suspension of disbelief that much.

the fight scene with the Ringwraiths on Weathertop was the first thing Viggo Mortensen ever shot for the films, and also the first time he'd ever used a sword.

the scenes of weapons being forged in Isengard were shot in a foundry and the molten metal seen being poured is real molten steel, because they couldn't come up with a convincing way to fake the appearance of molten metal. the workers at the foundry were recruited to play the orc extras in the scene.

Lurtz was created to provide a kind of 'face' for the Uruk-Hai as well as to be a villain that could physically confront the Fellowship at the climax, since both Saruman and Sauron stay within their respective domains and, aside from Saruman's scenes with Gandalf, don't actually directly interact with the protagonists.

replacing Glorfindel with Arwen is acknowledged as taking a big chance, but the writers were already struggling with the sheer amount of introductions to new characters in the film and didn't want to introduce yet another new character only for him to almost immediately disappear from the story again.

filming the chase scene between Arwen and the Ringwraiths was interrupted by massive flooding at the location. the cast and crew took a break from filming to help shore up Queenstown with sandbags.

when Gandalf escapes from Isengard, Saruman is holding his staff with one hand because Christopher Lee had injured his other hand smashing it in a hotel room door and couldn't hold anything with it.

the scene of Sam and Frodo in Rivendell talking about going home was a pickup shot after the main filming was completed, which is why Sean Astin is noticeably thinner there than for the rest of the movie--as soon as principal photography was completed he dropped all the weight he had gained for the role.

Elrond sounds especially deep and harsh while talking to Gandalf about the weakness of men because Hugo Weaving had a bad case of flu at the time.

the Council of Elrond took 6-7 days to shoot and was "a nightmare" because of the difficulty of keeping track of the eyelines of so many people sitting in a big circle.

Sean Bean occasionally glances down during the "one does not simply walk into Mordor..." speech because he has his lines written on a piece of paper in his lap; the speech was given to him so soon before filming that he didn't have time to fully memorize it.

when Gandalf reacts to Frodo volunteering to take the Ring to Mordor, Peter Jackson told Ian McKellen to imagine that he had just heard his son volunteer to join the Army in World War One.

#lotr #lotr films #lotr behind the scenes

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gavinrutherforda · 3 years

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Together, the three consultants helped build the Cooksey Council between 1985 and 1988, considered by some to be one of the strongest environmental councils in city history (others remember it as the council which approved more suburban development than any other council in history). Perhaps the biggest concern for the Greyhound D is losing shortstick d middies Pat Laconi and Kyle Duffy. The hair beneath her arms went next, then her legs, and last of all the fine golden down that covered her mound. !st of all, what about out the unfounded "separation of Church and State" the liberals have hung their hats on for so long to insist Government not Churches can do the job better than Churches, when it comes to education, social services and aid to the poor or disabled. Poor old man! From the first line one could tell what and to whom he was writing.

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sneezehq · 4 years

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Reunite

Two familiar faces make an appearance in Mistral. Part of my ‘Eye for an Eye’ series.

If what Qrow told them yesterday about the maidens, relics, and magic was hard to believe, everything that Oscar—sorry, Professor Ozpin—explains to them is almost impossible to take seriously. But once again, Qrow shows no sign that he's joking. And there are too many things that Oscar knows that can't be explained away by this being some sort of elaborate prank.

Jaune, Nora, and Ren express similar opinions of surprise and disbelief. It's a lot of information to take in in just two days.

Oscar—Professor Ozpin—starts talking about the steps that they'll need to take in order to be ready to fight Salem. Step one is to recruit more Huntsmen and Huntresses to their cause. Qrow claims to have it covered through his connections.

"And step two," Professor Ozpin announces. "Will be getting the four of you into fighting shape."

There's a moment of awkward silence following his declaration. Finally, Nora pipes up. "But we already know how to fight," she points out. "We just crossed an entire continent, fighting monsters all the way."

Faster than any of them can blink, Oscar's body lunges forward, his cane coming to rest just short of the redhead's throat. "I'm afraid you all have a long way to go before you're ready to pose any real threat to Salem and her forces."

Nora scowls. "He's right," Ruby says. "I've never been very good at fighting without a weapon, and I've got a lot of adjusting to do." She brushes her hair away from her face to reveal her scar to illustrate her point.

Professor Ozpin nods, frowning. "I see. Well, I suggest that you children get some rest. Your training will start bright and early tomorrow morning. And Miss Rose, I have some past experience that you might find useful."

Ruby nods. "Wait," Jaune says. "If Ruby's uncle is going to be out recruiting Huntsmen, who's going to train us?"

Professor Ozpin smirks. "Well." He pauses to do a rather impressive flip onto one of the chairs. "I believe I was the headmaster of Beacon Academy. Oscar will need to practice as well. He'll inherit my muscle memory in time, but he'll still need to strengthen both his body and his aura." His smile widens at their shocked faces. "I'll see you in the morning, students."

Oscar, unprepared to be shoved back in control, wobbles in his unsteady perch on the chair, before crashing to the ground. Ruby rushes over to his side. "Are you okay?"

"You've got to be kidding me," he groans. Ruby helps him to his feet.

Yeah, that just about sums it up.

And so, their training begins.

The six of them quickly fall into a routine. Every morning, Qrow heads out to meet with his Huntsmen contacts, while the four of them plus Oscar train in the yard and the dojo.

Training is . . . difficult, to say the least. Ruby spends most of her time getting thrown in the dirt, and ends each day bruised and exhausted. At least when they practice with their weapons she can rely on muscle memory, but hand-to-hand is a different story. Fighting without a weapon had always been something that she struggled with, and her new lack of sight on her left side makes everything much more difficult.

But even as she struggles, Ruby is immensely grateful to be fighting again at all. Maybe it's silly, but ever since she'd woken up with a scar where her eye should be, a small part of her had been terrified that her life as a huntress was over. It feels good to be back in action, even as Jaune knocks her to the ground for the fifth time in a row.

"You okay, Ruby?" Jaune asks, offering a hand to help her back to her feet.

She nods and tries to catch her breath. "I'm good. Let's try that again."

Jaune frowns at her. "Are you sure? Maybe you should take a break, let someone else give it a try."

"I'm fine, really," Ruby insists. Even if sitting down for a few minutes sound fantastic, she needs to keep practicing. She needs to get stronger.

Oscar turns around to face them, his green eyes glowing faintly. "Miss Rose, you're not going to improve by continuing to strain yourself when you're already tired. Rest for a few minutes and try it again when you're fresh."

Ruby grumbles, but decides not to keep arguing. Jaune pats her on the shoulder as she makes her way over to the bench. She blinks, suddenly feeling less exhausted and sore.

It takes far longer than she would like, but as they continue to train, Ruby can tell that she's making some progress. Ozpin advises her on how to use her other senses to make up for her blind spots and issues with depth perception. He also teaches her how to extend her aura and use it to get a sense for her surroundings. When she's not fighting, she spends a lot of time meditating with Jaune and Oscar, trying to strengthen her aura and expand its reach.

Even as her hand-to-hand skills improve, Ruby knows that she needs to work on her ranged fighting. Her sniping abilities were affected when she lost her eye, and Ruby isn't sure if she'll ever be able to fully regain what she's lost. She even debates making some adjustments to Crescent Rose—she'd definitely be able to find the parts here in Mistral—but she can't quite bring herself to do it. It would feel too much like giving up. Plus, she tells herself, it's much easier to relearn how to fight without making changes to her weapon.

So instead, she practices her targeting and accuracy until the neighbors complain and her fingers bleed. Maybe she should start wearing gloves.

Oscar seems just as determined as she is to improve his fighting skills, and often they're the last two left practicing after everyone else calls it quits for the day. Their conversation from the other night still echoes in her head. "You've lost so much already," he'd pointed out. "How are you okay with all of this?"

She hadn't said it then, but if she's being honest, she's not okay with any of this. But whether or not she's okay with it isn't going to change the fact that it's happening, so she might as well just buckle down and deal with it.

Ruby still has nightmares about Tyrian most nights, but the benefit of Ozpin's aggressive training program is that most days she's too exhausted to let her dreams keep her from sleeping. She's thought about talking to Qrow about it, but he's been so busy lately, she doesn't want to bother him.

The days pass in a blur, and soon three weeks have passed since they visited Haven Academy. Qrow has been growing frustrated with the local Huntsmen. He'd started his search on the outskirts of the city, where the council held less influence, but after a couple weeks of nothing but dead ends he'd been forced to start searching within the city.

Which is why Ruby finds herself in the kitchen helping Ren, Jaune, and Nora make dinner. Qrow had left to meet with a bunch of his contacts in the city this morning, so the four of them had decided to prepare a big dinner for when he returned with their new allies in tow. Jaune is setting the table while Nora chops (and eats) the vegetables. Ruby and Ren are manning the stove.

She's scowling at Ren, who's claiming that she's going to overcook the food (for such a quiet guy, he's so bossy when it comes to cooking), when she hears her uncle's voice. "I'm back."

"Be right there!" she calls back, before getting distracted by a large plume of smoke from the noodles she's supposed to be watching. That's not good.

"Ruby," her uncle calls again, sounding impatient. She decides to leave dinner in Ren's hands.

"I'm coming!" she says, grabbing a tray loaded with a teapot and cups and making her way out of the kitchen and into the living room. She wonders how many people Qrow has convinced to help them. Hopefully enough for them to go after the Spring maiden. What are they like? What kind of weapons will they have?

She focuses on the tray as she walks, not wanting to drop it and make a mess when they have guests. "So, we didn't know how many people were coming, so we just cooked all of it." Ruby glances up to look at Qrow and the new arrivals. Her mouth drops open.

The tray slides from her hands. The teapot and cups shatter on the floor. Ruby doesn't even notice.

Whoever she was expecting Qrow to bring with him, it wasn't Yang or Weiss.

For a long moment, the three of them just stare at each other. Finally, Yang takes a few steps forward.

Ruby flinches back, racked with the guilt that she's been suppressing for months. She braces herself to be yelled at. Yang is probably furious, and she has every right to be. Ruby had left her sister when she'd needed her most. No amount of apologies can fix that.

"Yang, I'm so sorry! I should have stayed, and I should have talked to you more, I just wasn't sure if you wanted me around and—" Her vision blurs with tears as she tries to find the right words.

She freezes when she feels strong arms around her. Yang is—hugging her? "I love you," her sister murmurs, pulling Ruby closer to her.

Ruby hugs Yang back tightly and lets out a small sob. She's dizzy with relief. Her sister isn't yelling at her. She doesn't hate her for leaving. "I love you too," she manages to squeak out. The tight knot of guilt and worry in her chest finally starts to ease a little.

Across from them, Weiss sniffles loudly, and Yang and Ruby gesture for her to join them. They stand there for a couple minutes, arms wrapped around each other, relieved to be together again. It's almost perfect.

Ruby wishes Blake was here.

"You look different," Weiss comments when they finally let go, ignoring everyone watching them.

Ruby stiffens. Is she talking about—

"Yeah, I'm digging the new outfit, sis," Yang says, elbowing her playfully in the side.

Ruby laughs to hide her relieved sigh. "You too!"

Dinner that night is rowdy. The six of them talk over each other as they attempt to share stories from their travels. There's a lot to catch up about.

"Its arm is a tree! Its arm is a tree!" Nora cries, mimicking Jaune's shouts of horror. "And then Ruby used her super speed and zoomed in so we could attack it together! She was totally awesome!"

"Who, me? Did you see Jaune in that fight? He didn't even have a weapon and he still helped us take that giant Grimm down like it was nothing!"

"Oh, please, I couldn't have done anything if Ren hadn't figured out it's weak point."

The six friends grin at each other as Weiss talks about the charity event she disrupted and Yang shows off her new arm. Before they know it, Nora is challenging her to an arm-wrestling contest and they're all cheering their respective teammates on.

Ruby doesn't mean to keep what happened to her a secret, especially not from Yang and Weiss, but right now feels like the wrong time to bring it up. They're having a good time, just happy to be reunited again. The last thing she wants to do is bring everyone down. She'll tell them later, when it's a better time.

"How is it possible for six kids to make so much noise eating dinner?" Qrow complains. Oscar is standing next to him in the doorway.

They all look up sheepishly. Ozpin clears his throat. "I think we need to have a talk."

The sun isn't even up yet when Ruby decides to get up the next morning. Despite the tense conversation last night, she's just excited to have her sister and her partner back. When it becomes obvious that she's not going to be able to fall back asleep, she decides to go to the training grounds to meditate.

It's still early when she's joined by Weiss and Yang. Apparently everyone is having a hard time sleeping. They sip their coffee and chat as the sun rises. Ruby sighs. It's so nice to have team RWBY back together again.

Well, almost.

The moment she mentions Blake, she wishes that she'd just kept her mouth shut. It's obvious that Yang is still hurt by her leaving—but she isn't the only one hurting. And if Ruby is being honest with herself, she's getting tired of being yelled at when she's just trying to help.

But that's a selfish thought, so she shakes her head and forces it to the back of her mind. She sits up and lets out a long sigh that blows her hair out of her face, bracing herself to go and try to talk to her sister again.

Weiss gets there first. "Is everything okay?" Ruby asks, carefully poking her head in to see the two of them sitting on Yang's bed.

"We're good," Yang replies, sounding much calmer. Ruby lets out a sigh of relief.

It's quiet for a moment, and Ruby studies the floorboards, trying to plan for training now that they have two extra people. When she looks up again, Yang and Weiss are staring at her in shock. "What's wrong?"

"Ruby," Yang says, her voice trailing off.

"What happened to you?" Weiss asks.

Too late, Ruby realizes that they're staring at the left side of her face. Oh. Well, this wasn't exactly how she wanted them to find out. She forces herself to smile and arranges her bangs so that they're covering her eye again. "That's a bit of a long story. Why don't we talk about it over breakfast?"

#rwby #volume 5 #ruby rose #eye for an eye #fanfic #my writing

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af-answers · 5 years

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Four Times Artemis Tries to Convince Holly to go with him to Mars and the One Time he Didn’t

The First Time | The Second Time | The Fourth Time

The Third Time

The third time was over a video call. They hadn’t talked since their spat in the spaceship a few weeks before, and Holly’s pride hadn’t allowed her to call and make peace without a different reason for contacting him.

That reason finally came when a bizarre string of kidnappings plagued Haven. The kidnapper left a carving of a human baby in the place of the taken child, in a subversion of the old changeling myth.

“Wood carvings?” Artemis clarified, leaning back in his custom-made desk chair and cradling his mug of tea against his chest.

Holly nodded. She sat at her desk as well, eating her lunch. Even though she was a commodore— or because she was— she didn’t have many friends around the office. They liked her and respected her command, but they all had their own cliques and she didn’t think it wise to join one and upset the peace of the bullpen.

“I assume Foaly has already run diagnostics and determined where the wood was harvested?”

She stabbed a clump of salad with a two-pronged fork. “Yeah. Each of the four carvings were from different trees. The first was fir, then pine, then oak, then an apple tree.”

He took a long sip of tea, staring off camera as he thought. “What were the ages of the trees? Was the apple tree the diseased?”

The elf scooted her tupperware off the files she’d truthfully only skimmed through. “It was.” She frowned at him, but he continued to stare into the middle distance stoically, waiting for her to ask. “How did you know?”

“Because people don’t typically chop down apple trees unless they are decrepit or structurally unsound.” He looked at her then, and there was a mischievous glint in his eye. She paused in her chewing.

“What?”

“I was wondering… once I’m in space, how will I keep those ever-so-important check-ups to monitor my unstable clone body?”

She snorted, loudly, so as to annoy him with how ridiculous she thought he was. “Unstable?” she said, covering her full mouth as she talked. “For years you’ve been insufferably smug about how un-unstable your unique body is.”

Truth be told, she’d also wondered how Artemis 2.0 would handle the strain of space travel. If his synthetic biology were to malfunction— she didn’t want to think about the myriad of ways Artemis could go mad or worse, with Butler helpless to heal him. She’d had half a mind to reveal Artemis’s insane venture to the Council and imply heavily they should ground him, even incarcerate him in Haven, until they determined he was space-ready. Which, with how decisive the Council was, would be never.

But Artemis had been right all those years when he said his new body functioned perfectly. In fact, free of the chemical imbalance and mutations of his first one, Clone Artemis was closer to how he would have been if he’d lived a normal, magic-free life.

“On Earth, yes,” he allowed. “But in the volatile gravities of space and other planets? I could go under some violent mutation!”

She poked at her food as if there were something very interesting in the dregs of leaves and vinaigrette dressing. “Then I’ll advise the Council to up the amount of reports per week you have to send while you’re gone,” she said.

“A report won’t help me in a crisis,” he protested. “I’ll need fairy magic.”

She frowned. “I’m not your nurse, Artemis. Neither is any other fairy. If this is really your best argument for why I should run away to Mars, I overestimated your powers of persuasion.” She tapped a finger on the desktop and Artemis, who’d been sufficiently cowed, straightened. “You didn’t answer my question. Why does it matter that the apple tree was diseased?”

Artemis tipped his head back with an exasperated sigh. “We can both agree your fairy isn’t cutting down the trees themself, yes?”

She shrugged, though she had to admit it was unlikely. Haven had some highly regulated trees, but the wood matched the surface species, which were much too large for any fairy to fell alone. She supposed it could have been a multi-diary scheme, but it seemed laughable for a fairy to manage to get topside only to mutilate trees.

“And it makes less sense to cut down four different kinds of trees and waste all that wood,” she said. “That’s why our working theory at the moment is the tree’s species have a special significance to the kidnapper.”

“A noble effort, but I believe there’s a simpler solution,” he said, keeping eye contact like a patient teacher. She wished she could punch him through the communicator. “Where else, besides a forest, can one find an assortment of travel sized wood?” he asked.

Holly screwed her eyebrows together in thought for a hard minute, then smacked herself in the forehead. “Of course, a woodpile.”

“Yes!” Artemis praised her, genuinely happy she’d caught on. “Humans cut down healthy trees like birch and oak for fuel, but they spare fruit-bearing trees unless there is something wrong with them.”

“So the perp stole their material from a human’s wood pile,” the commodore summarized. “We’re probably looking for a fairy who’s been topside in the past few months and brought back some bulky luggage.”

“Sounds like a lot of long, boring hours in front of a security screen array,” he bemoaned, typing on his personal computer. “Though you might save some time if you start here.”

Holly’s desktop computer dinged with an email alert. It was from Artemis, a list of witnesses and potential suspects. She’d had thirty-seven, he’d whittled it down to five.

“Where did you get these names?” she asked. She knew Artemis and Foaly had a hacking war ongoing— it was common knowledge at this point— but he’d never hacked her personal devices.

He pointed to her own desk, and the files strewn across it. “I can read upside down.”

Holly smirked, but swept the files into a drawer.

“I’ll have Foaly look into these fairies’ recent travel plans,” she said. “In the mean time, I’ll put some uniforms on their tails ASAP.”

Artemis watched her with a hard-lined brow as she forwarded the list to Foaly with a short debrief of their conversation.

“I thought you were smarter than this, Commodore,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “Well I could look into their travel histories myself, but to be honest, Foaly is better with computers than I am.”

He chuckled, his brow easing. “I mean, if you’d worked on this case for another hour, you would have come to this conclusion yourself. This isn’t challenging enough to consult me.” He squinted at her and, to her eternal mortification, she looked away. “Why did you really call me, Commodore Short?”

She met his gaze again, defiantly. “Because you’re so eager to show off your vast intellect that you’ll do my job for me.”

He nodded, his mug hovering under his nose. “You do realize that, after I leave, these little chats will be much harder to come by.”

Holly swallowed hard. She hadn't realized, but to be fair, her life didn’t revolve around Artemis Fowl. Nor did she want it to, which was part of the reason she turned him down. But the idea she couldn’t just pick up a communicator and see him any time made her throat constrict.

When she didn’t reply he leaned forward, closer to the camera on his tablet. “I’ve picked up the phone to call you half a dozen times,” he confided. “My apologies, Commodore. This voyage is of utmost importance to me, but I never meant for it to hinder our friendship. Especially not now.”

She opened her mouth to ask him to elaborate, to say she forgave him, but her computer dinged again. She opened the e-mail, this one from Foaly.

“Did he find something of import?” Artemis asked leaning back again.

“Oh yeah,” she said, scanning the attached images. “Much import.”

#artemis fowl #holly short #the fowl twins #mild spoilers

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thecleverdame · 5 years

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Sleepy Hollow - Chapter Two

Series Master List

Pairings: Sam x Reader, mentions of Dean x Jo

Summary: In 1799, specialized police constables Sam and Dean Winchester are sent from New York City to a small town called Sleepy Hollow to investigate a series of murders. Approached by the town’s council, the Winchesters discover the local residents believe that the murders are the work of a deadly Hessian horseman whose head has been mysteriously chopped off. With help from the beautiful Y/N Van Tassel, Sam Winchester’s investigation takes him further through the dark wood where more murders have been occurring. What Sam does not realize is that the mysterious Horseman is being controlled by someone in a sinister plot to kill the most suitable men in the village.

Warnings: Canon-level violence, murder, smut, horror, gore and a little fluff for good measure.

Words: 40k

Beta: ilikaicalie

This series is completed. You can read it on my Patreon for a monthly pledge of 2.50. This pledge includes early access to all my stories and Patreon exclusive content. >> CLICK HERE <<

Flat of Sam Winchester Sam packs his bags, methodically wrapping jars of chemicals and gently folding anatomy charts. He’s going to bring as much of his laboratory as the carriage will allow.

“Do you truly need all this?” Dean is holding a heavy jar up to the light, it’s contents questionable as the specimen floats to the side of the glass. “Dad didn’t need fancy magnifying glasses, he did the job with a gun and a bible.”

“Dad was convinced there were monsters in every dark corner of the world. He was just another believer who fell in with the mass hysteria.” Sam doesn't like to talk about John, there’s too much unfinished business. “How many genuine poltergeists have we come across in our life, three?”

“Four.” Dean holds up four fingers triumphantly. “You always forget the woman in white.”

Sam looks up as if remembering for the first time. “That seems like a lifetime ago.”

“I suppose it does.” Getting up from his perch, Dean wanders around the room as Sam goes about his work. The walls are filled with charts and maps, Sam’s always had a secret pension for cartography.

Above the fireplace there two photos. One is of their parents, John sitting in a chair, Mary standing behind him with her hand placed on his shoulder. There is no joy, only long faces as they look into the camera. The second is of a beautiful blonde woman, her hair falling over her shoulder, her name written in elaborate calligraphy across the bottom of the frame: Jessica. Dean takes the pictures, making a close inspection of the woman who was once part of his brother's life.

“If you’re going to touch my things, you can wait downstairs.” Sam plucks the frame from Dean’s hand and tucks it into his case, along with his clothing.

“You can’t have that much more to pack. There’s nothing left.” Dean holds his hands out, showcasing the bare room.

“I’m almost done.” Sam walks to the window, opening a birdcage with a bright red cardinal inside.

“What will you do with him?” Dean watches the bird flutter out of the cage and then out the open window.

“Fly free. It is a good day for sad farewells.” Sam watches it go, looking down at the coach on the street below. “Our carriage awaits.”

It takes an hour to get out of New York City, the coach lumbering past the city limits, forgoing civilization. The wide road narrows, a single dirt path that leads onward through thickly forested wilderness.

“Jo had no interest in accompanying us?” Sam inquires, looking out the window at the never ending sea of trees. Dusk is falling but they plan to continue on throughout the night.

“She’s unhappy with me.” Dean shrugs, his lip curling.

“With good reason.” Sam lifts an eyebrow.

“I don’t need your judgment as well as hers. We’ll have a child the normal way, just as everyone else does.”

“Not if you’re with me on this investigation. I believe one has to be present to conceive a child.” Sam can’t help but tease.

“Don’t get smart.” Dean kicks his brother's boot. “We’ve plenty of time. She’s not that old, although to hear her tell it, she’s nearing her final years. Everything is dramatic beyond reason.”

“Maybe,” Sam shrugs. “She wants a child, it seems like a normal desire.”

“She wants someone else’s child, from an orphanage.” Dean shakes his head. “I’m not talking about this anymore. It’s part of the reason I’m here, I need a break from this constant pressure.”

“You’ll hear no more of it from me.” Sam smiles, taking their father’s journal from his bag.

“If you think he was a lunatic, why do you carry his journal with you?”

“There’s a lot to be learned.” Sam taps the cover. “He might have not realized what he saw, but from just the description I’m able to deduce what sort of natural phenomenon he was witnessing. Just last week I determined his obsession with the will-o'-the-wisp was likely nothing more than swamp gas. This is what gives us insight. When the villagers start talking of magical fairy lights in the forest, we’ll know where to start looking.”

“He’d hate it.” Dean chuckles, rolling up his jacket as a pillow, lying down on the bench.

“Yes, he would.”

He has few memories of his father. And what remains are faint recollections. What he can recall with a burning intensity are his father’s obsessions. His quest to find and kill monsters that never really existed. John Winchester saw demons lurking in every shadow. He found the devil in whispered secrets and meaningless symbols. And his father killed without discretion, he saw only black and white, good and evil.

John’s relentless belief in the spiritual world is what still fuels Sam’s desire to disprove anything otherworldly. He and Dean rely on facts and a sense of order and reason. Rarely do the creatures hiding in the night turn out to be anything other than flesh and blood men.

The sun quickly fades as the coach rocks along, tree branches scraping the side of the carriage. Somewhere in the distance a wolf howls and Sam looks out the small window into the black of night, before shutting the curtain and finding some sleep of his own.

The next morning, Sam wakes up before Dean, peeking out to reveal their journey has progressed through the sun-dappled forest. His brother is still in the depths of deep sleep, a hand resting limp in his lap. Across Dean’s open palm is a prominent scar, a long nasty cut he acquired in a scuffle many years ago. Sam checks the contents of his leather satchel, pausing for a moment to study the palm of his own hand. There are strange scars on both palms, evenly dispersed tiny dots of white tissue. He’s had them his entire life, unsure of how they came to be.

Sleepy Hollow

Sam and Dean stand between two massive stone pillars, watching the coach as it leaves them behind.

“You’ll have to leave most of your luggage here. We can send for it later.” Dean grumbles, picking up his bags. “Tell me again why he couldn’t take us into town?”

“Superstition,” Sam confirms, glancing up at the tree limbs above them. “Dean, look.”

There are dead ravens hanging from the branches, strung up by twine.

“A few dead crows to keep the rest out of the fields.” Dean’s grimaces. “It’s a grisly sight. Welcome to Sleepy Hollow.”

They follow the winding road to town, passing a church and a graveyard. The road ahead is bordered by rows of businesses and two-story homes. As they enter the town square an elderly woman stands in her doorway, watching. Sam tips his hat and the woman scowls, looking away and shutting the door with a thud.

“I just love townspeople,” Dean chortles.

Looking up Sam spies another townie staring down from his window. The moment their eyes meet he closes the shutters.

“I’m seeing a pattern,” Sam comments, looking behind him. As they continue they see there are two or three riflemen placed at vantage points on the roofs of the town. Looking back Sam spies another in the church tower. The whole village is like the wild west, waiting for outlaws to attack.

Off in the distance, sitting in the middle of a field, there’s a strange wooden bunker, more like a small fortress with a huge bell mounted on the top. Several farmers are gathered around it all bearing rifles. The Winchesters pause, looking at each other and the sight before them. A young boy about ten, walks up to one of the rifleman, with food and drink tied up in a cloth. The older man looks down, offering the boy an affectionate pat on the head.

“Don’t worry, son.”

Another man leads the boy away as the father climbs back up onto the bunker, several rifles slung over his back. In front of the bunker, across the field, other farmers are lighting torches, enough to line the entirety of the forest's edge.

“What have we gotten ourselves into?” Sam murmurs, moving forward.

“I don’t think we should be outside during night hours, Sam.” Dean hikes his bag up on his shoulder. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“We’re headed there.” Sam points to a grand manor home sitting atop a hill, the windows are aglow, casting a warm picture against the gray backdrop of impending night.

Van Tassel House

Sam sets down his bags on the porch of the stately home. The length of the porch is lined with jack-o-lanterns, glowing orange.

Dean shoves an elbow into his brother’s ribs, drawing his attention to a couple, lustfully wrapped around each other in a dark corner of the porch. Sam clears his throat, mumbling an apology and opening the door. A shaft of light illuminates the kissing duo, both brothers memorizing their faces for future reference.

The front door opens to reveal the foyer and main hall. There’s a harvest party in progress, the town is gathered, music playing in the background. Men and women are enjoying food and drink, talking quietly in groups as Sam and Dean make their way through the celebration.

Dean stops a young woman, smiling with brazen charm. “Pardon our intrusion, we’re seeking Baltus Van Tassel.”

“In the parlor sir, farther on,” she nods, glancing back to him. Ahead they find a large group of men, women, and children in a circle, taunting a blindfolded woman, you, being spun around by a barrel-chested man.

You can feel your head roll as Brom spins you, again and again, his large hands lingering on your shoulders for longer than necessary. Suddenly he releases you, and everyone goes quiet, avoiding your searching outstretched hands.

You circle slowly, the blindfold tightly covering your eyes, chanting the refrain that makes the children and even some of the women shiver with pleasurable fright. They stifle their giggles as you reach out, grasping at the air. “The Pickety Witch, the Pickety Witch, who’s got a kiss for the Pickety Witch?”

Lunging forward, you grab empty air, narrowly missing Brom as the crowd snickers. Dean glances back, noting the couple from the porch making their way back into the party. Sam is leading the way, trying to pass through the crowd to reach the far door.

You reach out, only to meet the solid frame of a warm body beneath your hands as the room goes silent. You’ve no idea that the room is quiet because you’ve grabbed onto a stranger. After all, silence is the point of the game, to avoid your capture.

Your hand pats the chest in front of you, he’s a man and he’s large. Reaching up you touch Sam’s face.

Sam’s looks to Dean who just grins back. “A kiss, a kiss!” a child calls out.

“She has to guess first,” yells another woman. Dean watches the man who was just outside with another woman, slip his arm around the wifely matron standing beside him. He’s only been here ten minutes and he’s already confirmed an extramarital affair. Your fingers trail across the strong jaw of the unknown man before you. You’ve no idea who it is, so you take a guess. “Is it...Theodore?” The crowd laughs and Sam clears his throat. “Pardon ma’am. I am a stranger here.” A stranger? You smile, excited at the prospect. “Have a kiss on account then.”

Standing on the tips of your toes, you stretch up, placing a kiss at his jaw, then take off your blindfold to reveal a breathtakingly handsome man standing before you. There’s a gentle smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, his bright eyes shining. But his entire expression changes when he gets a clear look at your face.

For a fleeting moment, Sam flounders, stricken by the sight of you, his composure failing him as he stares at you, somewhat stunned.

You glance down at his hand, finding no ring on his finger.

“I...um, I am looking for Baltus Van Tassel,” he manages, never looking away.

“You’re in luck.” You smile, eyes locked on each other. “I am his daughter. Y/N Van Tassel.” “And who are you, friend? We have not heard your name yet.” Brom steps forward.

Sam gives you one last look before turning his attention to the man, roughly matching his height and size, who’s clearly unhappy with his presence.

“I have not said it. Excuse me…” Sam tries to move forward.

Brom grabs at Sam’s collar as Sam stares at him, confused at this overreaction.

“Brom!” You shout, tugging on his arm. He’s always had a delusion that he has some claim to you, but in reality, there is no love connection between you, there never will be.

“You need some manners.” Brom hisses.

“You need to release my brother.” Dean steps forward and the crowd steps back, leaving the three men in the center of the room.

“Come, come.” There’s a chuckle from the back of the room. It’s your father, Baltus. “We want no raised voices on this happy occasion.”

“Father,” you gesture toward Brom.

“It is only to raise the spirits during this dark time that I and my good wife are giving this little party.” Your stepmother stands behind your father, looking on with silent judgment. Brom releases Sam, stepping back and you relax.

Sam shakes off the confrontation, just happy to have a focal point, somewhere to concentrate other than your wonderful face and full bosom.

“Young sirs, you are welcome, even if you are selling something!” He chuckles, patting his belly.

“Thank you.” Sam smoothes a hand through his hair. “I am Constable Sam Winchester, this is my brother, Constable Dean Winchester. We are sent to you from New York with authority to investigate the murders in Sleepy Hollow.”

This news seems to have quite the effect as the entire room goes still. You give both men the appraisal they deserve, they are rather wonderful examples of the male gender. Smart and handsome is an elusive pairing in a village as small as this one.

“What good are Constables?” Reverend Steenwyck pipes up, unable to contain his outburst. “Reverend.” Lady Van Tassel, your stepmother, gives the Clergyman a reproachful look, moving forward towards the brothers. “Sleepy Hollow is grateful to you, Constables. I hope you will honor this house by remaining with us until-”

“Until you’ve made an arrest!” Brom snorts.

To both Sam and Dean’s surprise, this gets a nervous laugh. Your father frowns and Brom snorts but all you can do is look at Constable Sam Winchester with renewed interest. He’s to stay in your home, a fact that brings interesting possibility.

Sam can feel you watching him as if he has a sixth sense that’s activated only for you. His brother, Dean, is the one who catches you appraising Sam like a prize pig, trying to hide his amusement as you look away with a sly smile. Baltus turns to his wife, “Well spoken!” Then turns to Sam and Dean. “Come, gentlemen. We’ll get you settled. Play on! Let the party resume.” The fiddlers strike up the music as you watch the two men leave the room.

#sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester smut #sam winchester x reader #sleepy hollow

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vrenaewrites · 4 years

Text

HUSH HUSH by Becca Fitzpatrick thoughts: Ch 12 - end

Full video here.

CHAPTER 12

Nora’s mom is on her way home

Nora goes to visit V

“I love drugs” LMAO

She goes into a diatribe about her doctor only eating easter candy i’m crying

It was a guy!!! He had dark eyes and he was wearing a ski mask!!!!!

After thought: was jules just manipping them SO HARD they couldn’t keep a grip on what the ski masked person looked like? If so...why keep wearing a ski mask as your calling card??

V had told elliott they were going shopping

Nora tells V about hitting the guy in the ski mask

Ooh nora told patch about shopping too!!!!

Too short and too skinny to be elliott though

V is like “the more i think about it, i really think it was patch”

Nora doesn’t get a chance to tell V about elliott before the drugs kick in hard

“I brought your homework, where do you want it?” she pointed to the trash can LMAO V IS THE BEST

She goes home and hugs her mom

CHAPTER 13

She and V go to borderline where patch works to get info from his coworkers

Nora is sweaty lmao

Nora literally wrote interrogations on one side of a piece of paper and flirting prompts on the other side this girl is ridiculous

V brought slutty heels to make Nora more seductive I’m dead

V invited Jules and Elliott...she’s been seeing Jules

Nora goes to tell V about Elliott but he shows up before she can

Jules doesn’t show up

Nora is like so Elliot if the prep school is so great why did you transfer basically challenging this potential murderer

Elliott is like “heard the girls were hotter at your school”

I am beyond confused as to why V invited these guys who know who Nora is, but also expects Nora to put on a whole ass disguise in the bathroom and go talk to the bartender… Why would you invite these guys along? This just makes it way more difficult…

Nora goes to the bartender and tries to make conversation; is terrible at it, basically asks him is it possible to get hired here with a felony, can I see patch’s job application, does patch have a girlfriend?

Patch is covering a shift so he is NOT off as originally expected

Patch confronts her in the girl’s bathroom and he’s like “are you following me?” POT KETTLE BITCH

She goes to take the high heels off and drops the list of interrogation questions and patch picks it up and I am nervous

Patch had a girlfriend but she’s dead

Gonna call it: she’s the girl who was hanged at kinghorn that Elliott was questioned about

Chapter 14

Her mom “Blinked owlishly” excuse me??

Nora’s mom wants to sell their house because it’s too much $

So Nora decides not to tell mom about the ski mask guy

She asks her mom about knowing if she loved dad and if she was ever afraid of dad

When the pats lost her dad would chop down trees with a chainsaw lmaoooooo what

Nora‘s mom says “ooh a boy is he on chess team? Student council? Tennis team?”

And Nora says… He likes pool… and her mom says “ooh a swimmer” LMAO

Someone ripped her room APART

It’s the ski mask guy!!!!! He jumped out the window

One of the cops looks like patch…

Nothing is messed up when the cops look at the room…

Is Nora going insane or is it angel shit

Unfortunately I think this book would be so much more interesting if I didn’t already know that patch was a fallen angel and I don’t know if that’s my bad for trying to fine just like a quick summary of what the book was about on the Internet, or if like the back of the book let you know that this is about an angel… I mean the cover let you know it’s about an angel but I would’ve thought these dudes are like…serial killers or something and that Nora had some kind of mental issue or they had messed with her iron supplements to make her go nuts…Which might’ve been more interesting than whatever is going on here

Chapter 15

Nora finally tells V about the article and v doesn’t believe her

Nora thinks that she has a great point because Elliot transferred schools after he was questioned… I’m sure it was really hard to keep going to school with people who knew you were a murder suspect...so…

Nora wants to go to kinghorn and question the students about elliott

The fact that this all somehow ties back to fallen angels is really pissing me off because we are halfway through it, and we have not even really from Nora’s point of you introduced the idea of Angels

Nora is suddenly like why the fuck is Jules always sick

Also how is he always around if kinghorn is such a difficult school

Nora realizes the article that she printed about Elliot was missing from her room after the ski mask guy broke in so now she is convinced Skimask guy is Elliot

I will say that I have absolutely no idea where this is going so it is keeping my attention because again I don’t understand how this is going to tie back to angels and why the girl died and etc.

Coach makes V and Patch switch places

“I didn’t do homework” “who did you do?” Bro come on

“The subjects pulse increased on contact”

She goes to her appointment with Miss Green and somehow Miss Green knows that patch took her home from the pier and that patch went into her house what the fuck is going on

I really really really hope that all of this weird shit comes together in the last like five chapters and I end up like screaming OH DUH putting all this together… But because this was recommended as part of my cringe series, I have a very strong feeling that is not going to happen and all of this means nothing

“something about Miss Green bothered me, it was almost like she had an agenda“ yeah bitch she knew a guy took you to your house and came inside, she is stalking you

Chapter 16

Nora runs into Marcy at the library and basically Marcy says V got attacked because someone mistake her for a bear or a moose because she’s fat, and then they have a name calling back-and-forth of skank, slut, anorexic pig like real vile shit

Nora goes to the underground tunnel to get to the parking lot even though...she didn’t drive…

Patch is in the tunnel

“His smile looked like he didn’t play by the rules”

She immediately is like “if he’s gonna rape me he cornered me in the perfect place” JESUS

I mean all women think like that in a dark space but she likes this guy and they go to school together and...damn that was a jump!

Nora gets a car between them and they have like a run around while she’s asking him questions

“Was it a coincidence that the last normal day in my life had been right before that fateful day?” Editor fight me

She lets him take her home again

I am starting to feel like we are back to after, where the same things keep happening over and over for no reason… She was so determined to get answers and then she let it go because he turned the conversation on her...she should’ve just held her ground and then like I am not leaving until you tell me what the fuck is going on, but she didn’t, so does she care or not

He asks her out…

Chapter 17

She is so infuriating, she’s getting ready for this date but thinking about kissing him rather than thinking about getting answers on if this dude is stalking her / reading her mind...it’s so frustrating

The detectives show up

Asking about Marcy…?

Marcy got beat up!!!! By patch??

She lies that patch isn’t on his way

They go to the arcade

He’s behind her showing her how to play pool fuck yeah

He’s like “if I hit this, take off your jacket”

A guy named Rickson shows up, him and patch start roughhousing and we see patch’s giant back scars

They call him patch because he used to get his ass beat in bar fights and had to get patched up a lot lmao

Chapter 18

He leaves her in the Jeep while he gets dinner and she goes sleuthing

So in chapter 18 she is saying she would settle for finding his cell phone number but...she called him at Boze arcade in like the third chapter so what number was that, did you not write it down once you washed it off your hand, or was that the arcades phone... why do you not have his phone number anymore

He has a metal flashlight with blood on it in his glove compartment, making Nora think he had beat up Marcy after all

I swear to God, if he gets back in the car and she starts getting horny for him after finding this flashlight I am not gonna finish this book I am going to quit

He pulled out a gun?!?!?!?!!?!?!???!?!?

Paintball gun. He says it’s paint on the flashlight?? Sure Jan

He gives her a snow globe of the pier, cute!

Mom catches them lmaooo

Chapter 19

So Nora is on the phone with V and she’s like how did the date go with patch and Nora said something about him giving her pool pointers and he says I bet he could give you pointers in other areas… And then the next sentence is V trying to convince Nora once again that patch is the one who broke her arm… So… Why the fuck do you want your best friend to fuck the guy who broke your arm????????

Nora realizes that the angels that were painted on the roller coaster have the same scar that patch has

“My voice was strewn with cobwebs” huh?????

She goes on their home computer to google “angel wings scars” LMAO why did every girl in a YA novel in the early 2000s google what their monster boyfriend was

Info dump re angels: they talk to humans in their minds, can possess them during the unholy Hebrew month

“I filed everything away that I had just read in my mind, and stamped ‘scary’ on the outside“ lmao

“V, do you believe in superheroes? Do you think the Bible is real?”

Chapter 20

Elliott is at her house...drunk

He punches the side of her house

He invites her to go camping with him Jules and V...after he acknowledges she doesn’t like him

He rips her out of the house and throws her against it when she says she doesn’t wanna go

Thank god her mom wakes up

V tries to talk Nora into going, and Nora tells her what happened at the house, and V is like “well he was drunk”

Insert pic of unamused Kristen Stewart face

PLEASE tell me she’s being controlled by the angel powers because wtf

“Maybe you’re trying so hard to pin the ski mask on Elliott because you know it’s patch deep down” she’s not wrong tho patch is also a terrible dude who is stalking(?) her

Nora goes to Portland to investigate Elliott, and kierstens death

She throws away her questions this time, smart

She interrogates the waitress at kierstens old job, who is NOT amused but agrees to tell her some tea if she gets food and tips her big

Kiersten and Elliott were hooking up

Elliott bought kierstens apartment so he def coulda planted the note

Elliott and Jules were in the restaurant talking about a test that Jules has failed...I get the feeling it wasn’t academic

Chapter 21

Someone’s watching herrrr

V is in Portland with Elliott…? But she’s alone...she wants Nora to come get her

Red flag

She gets hustled by a homeless woman for her coat

She left her phone in the coat

She witnesses a shooting...of the bag lady...who was wearing her coat and hat!!!!!!!!!!

She calls patch and he comes to get her

V went home with the boys

“The water was smooth black poison” wut

The Jeep dies on the highway and a storm rolls in

Chapter 22

They get a room to wait out the storm because the lights and phones are down

She still is like wary of him but she doesn’t really have a choice at this point, fair.

Also, favorite trope: there’s only one bed

Her clothes are wet so she makes him blow out the candles so he can’t see her in her underwear….

She touches his scar and gets sucked into blackness?!?!

Chapter 23

There are 8 chapters left and I have a BAD feeling that we’re in sequel bait territory

She’s in like a flashback from 8 months ago

Miss green meets patch at bo’s, he calls her Daubria

“Your kind and my kind don’t mix” she’s an angel and he’s a fallen one, I just know it “it’s not easy getting down here”

“If you save a human life, you can get your wings back”

“Now tell me why you’re really here”

Something about the book of Enoch and him wanting to recreate it

He wants a name from her list since she’s a death angel

Daubria says Nora’s name and patch asks who wants to kill her and Daubria says, “you”

So…..if he stops himself….he can get his wings?

She comes back and patch pins her to the bed, pissed

So she has just found out that he wants to kill her, he has her pinned to the bed, and she asks “is Daubria your girlfriend???” Why do you literally care and why do you not have any self-preservation skills

He kisses her?!?!

She bites the shit out of his lip

He did try to kill her on the archangel but couldn’t do it, he was gonna stab her in her house, couldn’t do it

She’s passing out because she needs her iron pills

He calms her down

He lets her touch his scars again so she’ll trust him

Chapter 24

She wakes up next to a skeleton in a graveyard

The Irish guy is talking to patch there

Patch wants to become human, as he heard in the book of Enoch

She comes back

Patch feels through a “sheet of glass” unless he possess a body

Patch is the angel from the prologue I think

“If you can’t feel, why did you kiss me?” “Because I can feel it in my heart”

He fell because he lusted after a human girl

He didn’t know Daubria was still on earth…

She now thinks Daubria is the ski mask person

Chapter 25

Patch goes to get the car and leaves Nora there

They get her home and patch checks the house for her

V doesn’t answer her phone

Daubria is there!!

She says she isn’t the one who has been spying

She planted the idea in V’s mind that patch attacked her

Her birthmark means she’s Chauncey’s descendant, and the book says if patch killed his vassal’s descendant he can be human (according to Daubria)

She goes to kill Nora so she’ll be out of the way

Daubria is v hurt by him falling and “falling” for the human girl

Daubria goes full angel, using tk, glowing, trying to stop Nora

Daubria sets the house on fire

Patch comes back and tells her to drive his Jeep to Delphic

She starts to search for V in the meantime

Chapter 26

She goes to the movies and gets a ticket for the sacrifice, remarking on the irony of the title

V isn’t at the movies

But patch is?!?!

“Shut up or I’ll get security” “yeah, get security, this guy wants to kill me” “I want to kill you”

“I’ll tell you what I’ve done: I’m not good, but I was worse”

He’s now saying she’s worth falling for basically

“I don’t kill people who are important to me, and you top the list”

Patch ripped daubria’s wings off

“Let’s be honest, you got it bad for me, and I’ve got it bad for you.”

“You don’t need me to help you fight her.” “What do I need you for?” “We have unfinished business”

They making OUT in this theater bathroom

Her phone rings, V and the guys broke into school, and Elliott says “Nora come play or there’s a tree in the courtyard with V’s name on it”

Listen. To. Me. If these two plots have nothing to do with each other, I am going to rip my hair out. These could have been 2 different books.

Chapter 27

She tells patch about the article

Patch says he doesn’t remember Jules being at the arcade…

Jules is an angel I bet

The jeeps tires are slashed so they pay an employee to take his car

He tells Nora to stay in the car

Chapter 28

Elliott calls Nora and says he’s watching her

Nora GETS OUT OF THE CAAAAAAR

AND GOES INTO THE SCHOOL NORA HE TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING GET OUT

Nora tripped over Jules’ dead body…

Elliott is in the library, basically dead…

The lights keep going on and off…

The ski mask person is here!!!!!!!

IT IS JULES?!?!

He’s an angel!!!! Called it, He’s been fucking with her mind

He throws her in the bio room, and she sees a scalpel on the ground and grabs it

Jules was Elliott’s benefactor and made him choose between love and money…

Jules really wanted patch, but patch can’t be hurt...so he’s using Nora to get to him

Jules is patch’s vassal!!!!! So he’s fucking PISSED

HE IS CHAUNCEY!!!!!!

The guardian presence she felt wasn’t her dad, it was Jules

She stabs him, but bumps a table as she tries to escape…

He passes out

Chapter 29

She finds V in the e-zine lab

All the doors are chained…

She ends up trapped in the gym

Jules has a gun!!!!

He beat up Marcy because he didn’t want anyone messing with “his girl”

Patch finds them, Jules holds her at gun point, patch possesses Nora to beat the SHIT out of Jules

He couldn’t stay long enough to kill Jules, and the effort made him pass out

She climbs up the air shaft despite being afraid of heights and Jules is fucking with her, making her think she’s falling

Patch helps her anchor to reality

They’re both on the rafters

She realizes if she sacrifices herself, patch can be human

She throws herself off the rafter

Chapter 30

She hears a clock and wings, but then she slides backwards instead

She wakes up in her bedroom, with patch

Patch turned down her sacrifice so she could live

“What good is a body if I can’t have you?”

He’s a guardian angel because he saved her

V and Elliott are fine

The police think Jules killed himself

V says “shoe-shopping therapy” instead of retail therapy why

The book ends with patch coming back to give her a kiss...boring

There’s an exchange that’s the last sentence of the book where he pulls away and she’s like “more” “more?” “more”

#reading #book review #cringe books #booktube #hush hush #becca fitzpatrick #patch cipriano #nora grey #negative review

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fuzzydemolitionsquad · 5 years

Text

The tractor part two

Zeb cruised down the main street of Snag Toe, a not-so-bustling metropolis that was only a skip and a hop away from the Trodd family farm. Puggles lay back in his reclined seat, picking his nose and flicking his findings into the wind.

“I told you to STOP DOING THAT!” Zeb popped his cousin across the chops with the back of his hand. “If one of those gets on me I’m gonna choke you out!”

Puggles cackled. He sat up in his seat and watched a jumble-shrub blow across the road. There were no vehicles hovering by the curbs or krauntaun mounts tugging at their hitching posts. Everything was quiet. A lone drifter clad in beaten leather fueled his speeder bike at a dark fuel station. He turned onto the street without looking in the opposite direction and headed for Transitway Nineteen East. A solitary bantha in a paddock across the road lowed plaintively as she watched him go, her long tongue stretched out in his direction of travel. All the shops–including Gurvis’s Tractor and Farm Supply– were closed. The windows of the shops were concealed by plate-metal shades, like the eyelids of sleeping lasats.

“Welp, looks like evrry’thang is closed.”

“It’s only an hour and a half to mid-sun!” Zeb said.

Puggles scratched his hairy chin. “Wunner if this has sumthin to do wit the elly-mentry school carnival? Old Gurvis volunteers fer the milk bottle toss erry year, an Mizz Clapp, y’ know, the sundry shop owner, sells tickets. Yup, pract’ly the whole damn town gets involved.”

Zeb palmed his face. “ WHY didn’t you mention this BEFORE?”

“I unno. Jus’ slipped m’ mind. Oh well. Guess we has to go back home.”

“No. No, I promised pa I’d help him fix the tractor today.”

Puggles sighed. He lit a cigarette and took a drag. “Well if you insist. We kin turn left at thee stop and head on over to Needlesap. They got a tractor parts store there too.”

Zeb thought for a moment.

“Nuh-uh. Needlesap has all those crazies who were released from the mental hospital. Oh. Heh. Sorry Puggles, no offense. Besides, it’s where all the Lunxx boys hang out. I don’t feel like saving your scrawny tail today.”

“Save mah tail? Shheeeoot. . . I kin hold my own with them blinked-milk-suckin’ moon-calfs.”

Zeb laughed. “Whatever you say, Puggles.” The big purple lasat stretched his arms over the steering yoke and rest his head on them. His ear twitched.

“What iz yew doin’? Gettin’ sum shut-eye’?”

“No. I’m thinking, and. . . I think I have an idea. How long has it been since you’ve visited the capital?”

“Amethyst City?”

“No. The other capital.” Duh.” “Of course Amethyst City!”

Puggles’ brown face twisted. “I’d rather suck on the business end of a lightsaber! Or scrawl m’ name acrost a Mandy-lorry-an’s helm! Hells, I’d rather go skinny-dippin’ wid a love-sick dianoga than go to thee blasted capital!”

“So you really don’t wanna go?”

“No!” Why would I? Place is fulla ijits. Dandy lads an’ snooty gals and polly-tish-ans and such.”

“There’s lots of nice lasats too.”

I heard there wuz staurmtroopers there. An’ guards all a’suited in red.”

“Well, yes, but that was over two dust seasons ago.” Zeb said, a small crease forming over his brow. “The Empire wants fealty.That’s why the Emperor has sent envoys over the last couple years. Same thing happened when the Separatists and the Republic were vying for our support. Lasan isn’t interested in any political affiliation other than its own.”

“White and red. Bone and blood.” Puggles intoned.”That’s what Mossy said. Bone and blood.”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “ I think Mossy’s been eating too many toadstools.”

“Mebbe so. But he’s a witch’s son. Sometimes he has the mindsight. You member that.”

Zeb’s eyes shifted to the floorboard of the speeder. He looked at his feet. His prehensile toes kneaded the warm, plastoid-sheathed metal. Puggles’ worries were his as well, though he would never admit it.

“Capital’s two hours away. We better get going. I want to get pa’s tractor up and running today so he can get an early start tomorrow morning.”

“Land a’ muddlin’. Fine. Let’s git a move on.”

The big city filled Puggles with a combination of loathing and excitement.

There was nary a field nor hollow nor tree to be seen, save the topiary monstrosities growing from large bronzium planter boxes lining the streets.

Massive domes and tall conical buildings competed with one another for space, corrupting the natural skyline of purple mountains beyond. Sheer crystal sidewalks tinged lavender and green fronted a myriad of shops for blocks and blocks on end. Lasats in colorful attire bustled about like bees in a hive, their servant droids walking behind them, shopping wagons in tow..

Zeb entered a round-about on one busy street. In the middle was a statue of a heroic-looking female. Her quadranium arm was raised, a large bo-rifle in her grip. The sun glinted off her tattered uniform and one bared breast.

Puggles' eyes widened three sizes. “Did yew see that? Her tiddy is showin’! Whoo-wee. . . and it’s a nice un’!

“Be respectful, Puggles. That’s Shaddis Rrochious. She was a highly-skilled warrior and martyr who perished in the barbarian wars.”

“A warrior huh? Sheeeoot, she could shock me wid that ‘lectric rifle any time.”

“I’ll be sure to tell her spirit that when I’m in temple. Oh, and by the way, there’s a great statue of Firuz in front of the Warrior Council building. We should bring Jenni next time. I’m sure she would admire the bulge in his-

“All right all right. Point taken.” Puggles turned and looked back. “I’m sorry Miss Shaddis! Please ‘cept a Southern boy’s humble ‘pology!”

They continued on down the street. Colorful, high-definition holograms flashed in the fancier shop windows, advertising the wares inside. The colors danced across the hood of Zeb’s speeder. Puggles’ whistled through his teeth.

“I ain’t been here since I wuz a lil’ sapling. Don't ‘member any of this crap.”

“Are you sure you could see over the dashboard?” Zeb threw back his head and laughed.

“Go fuck yerself.”

“Sorry. I couldn’t resist.” The big lasat covered his mouth with his hand and snickered.

Puggles hmmmf’ed. “I’ve been off planet and I never seen a sinners paradise like dis.”

“You keep on bounty hunting and I’m sure you will. Maybe you’ll get lucky and be offered a job in Coruscant.”

“ Lucky. Oh yeah, sure. Thee lower levels of Coruscant iz a killers’ paradise.”

Puggles changed the subject.“Where is we going t’ git the doodad for pa’s tractor?”

Zeb smiled proudly. “Just so happens I have access to the parts depot near the guards barracks.”

Puggles went silent, as if he was in a trance. He blinked his eyes. A wicked smile unfurled across his face.

“That means yew has access t’ the munitions depot too. Don’t yew?”

Zeb’s hands shifted nervously on the steering yoke.

“N-no. Of course not. I’m not authorized to go in there.”

“Yew iz lying cuzz. I kin always tell. Yer nose gits all pink and twitchy. Course It don’t happen much, since yew is such an honest soul.”

“As opposed to you.”

“Yep, as ‘posed t’ me.” Puggles raised and lowered his brows in quick succession. Goading his younger cousin.

Zeb stopped at a signal. Three attractive older females with fantastically coiffed hair crossed the street in front of him. All three were walking tiny, white-furred oorvarks with gemstone encrusted collars.They waved and lowered their eyelids in a flirtatious manner. When they were out of ear-shot Zeb turned to face Puggles and grabbed up the front of his shirt.

“Let’s get one thing straight. . . CUZZ. This isn’t a fireworks buying expedition. There’ll be no bombs, no thermal detonators, no percussion grenades, no flares, no flash-bangers , no detonite, and no rocket launchers! NOTHING!”

Puggles pulled back and brushed off the front of his old flannel shirt.

“ Of all thee in-dig-nitties! I swear Zebediah, military life has made yew as ornery as a croaker eel!! I just wanted a little sooveneer.”

“I’ll buy you a tee-shirt.”

Puggles mumbled under his breath. How dare his little cousin treat him like some kind of infant cub! He had half a mind to throw a fit, one that would embarrass Zeb to his core.

The speeder approached a busy establishment named the Tooth and Claw. It looked warm and inviting with its polished wood balistrades and stairs. A brawny male wearing the same type of skin-suit that Zeb wore had another male in a tight headlock out front. The trapped male didn’t seem distressed in any way. He laughed as he went to his knees and flipped his assailant over his shoulder. Both lasats stood up and patted each other on the back then lifted their huge ale mugs from a small table to the side of the stairs. Puggles clapped his hands and licked his parched lips.

“It’s a bar Zeb! Pull over! I could really use a beer!”

“Oh, I don’t know Puggles. You’ve been drinking a lot lately.”

“What iz yew, mah ma?”

“No. I just worry about you that’s all. Besides, we don’t have time.”

“We have time fer one beer!”

Zeb knew if he didn’t give in, his cousin would continue to harp about the weapons depot. He listened to the crowd inside the establishment. Clinking glass and raucous laughter spilled out the doorway. The laughing turned to cheering. It was the toeball finals, and Zeb knew that some of his mates were inside. He looked at Puggles who was practically salivating.

“Okay. First of all, here in the Capital, it’s called a pub. Second, ONE beer. Then we leave. I think I should warn you. There are some first-year honor guards in there. Like me. They get pretty rowdy. Especially when they’re watching sports.”

“I hate sports.”

“Yeeeah, maybe don’t mention that.”

Zeb parked the speeder around back. He and Puggles stretched their legs and headed for the front door. As soon as they entered the pub, a whole table of green skin-suited males jumped up, whooping and hollering.

“Hey it’s good old Orrelios! ”

“The Zebster!”

“What’s up Zebby?”

“Come over here mate! The Shocktown Royals are knocking the stripes off the Burrndock Howlers!!”

Zeb waved. Puggles was off like a rocket before his cousin could make introductions. He jumped up onto the bar’s foot-rail–squeezing between two big graybeards smoking their pipes–and banged on the wood planked bar.

“ Anyone here? Someone pour me a cold one! No foam now, ye hear?”

The tender stepped out of the shadow. She was almost eight feet tall and as wide as the two graybeards combined. Her hair was an enormous blue bush and her chin was as square as a box. A dark mole stood out on her right lower cheek like a bullet wound. The cobalt stripes on her impressive biceps were as wide as one of Puggles’ legs. A fat cigar dangled from her lower lip.

“Didja say something, love?” She said in a surprisingly pleasant voice.

Puggles stared up at her boulder-sized breasts and lava-hued eyes and let out a gasp of genuine admiration. He fluffed out his jaw fringes.

“Great Bearded One! If yew ain’t the most stunning creature of thee female sex I’ve seen in this blasted city! Howz about yew pour me a cold one an we kin step out back for a spell.”

Panicking, Zeb and two of his mates rushed the bar. ‘Tiny Teeks’ the bartender picked up a heavy glass mug. She looked like she was planning to smash Puggles’ in the mouth.

“I don’t like blokes funnin’ with me, Short-shanks!” She said.

“I ain’t funnin’ you Big Blue! I likes what I sees!”

The square-jawed female looked at Zeb, who had a pleading look in his eyes. She put down the mug. “Orrelios, ye came in with this little squirt. Is he for real?”

“Unfortunately he is. He fancies himself a ladies-male. He’s my uhh. . well you see, he ah..that is, me and him are. . .

“Cousins, Teeks!” One of Zeb’s squadmates–a few-years older male named Gron– shouted. “That’s Zebby’s hill-trekker cousin! The one he’s always talking about.”

“Well I’ll be a korsa’s dewlap.” Teeks said with a snicker. “Don't see the family resemblance.”

“Hit cain’t be seen on thee outside gorgeous. Our fam’ly’ semblance iz our love-makin' talents. Iddent that right, Zebadiah? Us Trodds iz natural born kit-magnets!”

“Oh Gods and Ancestors . . .” Zeb blushed while his friends fell on the floor laughing. He wanted nothing more than to shrink down to the size of a flea and disappear into a crack in the wall.

“Puggles, would you shut your-

Zeb didn’t finish his sentence. Horns blared from the holovid player speaker. They were proceeded by the roars of a couple thousand spectators. Lasats in the pub went wild. Teeks jumped up and down and clapped her hands. “GOOOOAAAAAAALLL!!! Oi, did ya see it boyos? Xaniboor’s ball flew into the net faster than a mynock flying out of th’ inferno! GO ROYALS!!”

Teeks picked up Puggles like a rag doll and kissed him on the lips. Then she dropped him and poured him a beer. “There’s more where that came from, love! No no, put away your credits! I’m buying. I don’t know about your special talents, but you sure as dust are a good luck charm!”

“What about me, Teeks?” A dark-faced, yellow-furred guard asked in a whining tone. “I’m your best customer!”

The big female frowned. “Squints, I wouldn’t piss in ye pocket if ye was dying’ of thirst. I heard what y’ said about me! That me arse is bigger than any of the arses in the Capital Zoo.”

“That wasn’t me! It was Bear.”

“Sure, sure. And I’m th’ bleedin’ Queen!”

Puggles puffed out his chest and walked jauntily toward the table where Zeb had re-seated himself. Noticing that there was no chair available for him, he dragged one from the next table over and shoved it between Zeb and another young male. The soldiers were talking–more like gossiping–about what seemed like a very serious incident.

“. . .so she snuck out, again, and met Lorrbskr in the priest’s gardens.”

“I don’t believe that.” Zeb said, shaking his head. “Lorrbskr’s got a good career ahead of him. His whole family is military. He could be General some day.”

Squints made a funny sound with his nose.“You know how the Princess is. Always flirting. Always sneaking out. Getting blokes into trouble is a sport for her.”

“But, her guards. How does she keep giving them the slip?”

“She’s as slick as snot, that one.”

“ Lorrbskr's going before a review committee. Karabast, I wouldn’t want to be in his shin guards.”

Zeb sat back and took a drink of his ale. He burped against his fist.

“You guys are jumping to conclusions. He was probably at the temple to pray for his sick mother. The Princess saw him from her window, climbed out and comforted him. You gotta admit her life has to be pretty boring. She’s not allowed to have a suitor, can’t go anywhere without a chaperone. Hells, the Queen probably picks out her wardrobe and food and everything.”

Puggles rolled his eyes.

“Yew fellers iz thee most borin’ stiffs I’ve ever met. Gossiping like a flock a’ hens. I’m gonna go play spinner darts.”

“You do that.” Zeb growled.

The little lasat ditched his chair and padded up to the bar. Teeks had a cold one waiting for him.

“Ye really should have some of the stout. It’ll hit ye in a most pleasant way.” She said, winking one orange eye.

“Darlin’, if beer was meant t’ be warm ittid be served in a soup bowl.”

Zeb watched Squints shuffle a nudie sabbacc deck.

“You in?” The yellow and brown lasat grinned.

“Sorry, no. We can only stay for a little while. Gotta get a part for my adoptive father’s tractor then drive back to Needlesap County before it gets dark.”

“No pressure mate. Hey uh, Zebby, me and the boys were meaning to ask you something.”

The other young guards turned away from the toeball game and stared at Zeb.

“What?”

“You know Captain Zanku is going to retire soon. Do you think you might try to claim his position?”

The purple lasat widened his eyes. He visibly swallowed. “ Me? Captain? I dunno. I mean I’ve thought about it. Maybe years down the road.”

“Come on. You'd make a great one! Right boys? That would be wiz! You as our Captain!”

Everyone nodded in excited agreement.

“Mnnn. The trials though. I’d have to get in top shape. Physically and mentally.”

“What are you talking about? You’re already there! Strong as a gnapstrup and sharp as a dirk. You passed your first trials with flying colors. Hells, you know more about military history than Zanku himself.”

Zeb put his hand behind his head and rubbed his neck. “Yeah. He made me regret correcting him on the dates of The Battle of Kisgothi.”

“Latrine duty sucks nodge-gobs doesn’t it?”

“Sure as shit does!”

The two lasats laughed until tears came to their eyes.

Gron slapped Zeb on the shoulder. “You got my vote, Orrelios. Karabast, you’ve got all our votes.” He raised his mug and the others at the table did the same.

Everyone in the pub clapped their hands over their ears when an ear-splitting shriek sounded high above the din. A surge of ugly, gray-green smoke boiled out of the back room. Puggles Trodd bolted through the smoke, his ears flat and his eyes enormous.

“Zeb! Let’s go!!” He screeched as he bounded across table-tops.

“Puggles? Is- is that one of your smoke screamers?”

“Stop wid thee questions and run!” Puggles shouted drunkenly.

“Why?”

“Y’ know a big dude wid a gray cape and a green bo-rifle?

“Yeah. That’s our Captain.”

“Well, I hit him in thee forehead wit a dart. Right smack tween th’ eyes. Don’ worry, he’s still kickin’.’”

Zeb’s eye twitched. As his friends ran for the door, he grabbed Puggles, threw him over his shoulder and sprinted outside. He tossed the little lasat into his speeder’s passenger seat and leapt into his own. The engines roared to life. Zeb floored the accelerator, fishtailing, then careening out into the street. He banged on the steering yoke.

“I knew it. I knew something like this would happen!” He turned in his seat and watched pub patrons spill out onto the sidewalk, coughing and clutching their pained ears. He hoped beyond hope that his friends would keep Puggles’ identity a secret.

“That’s it. We’re getting the part and we’re out of here! I am never taking you to the Capital again as long as I live!”

Puggles crossed his arms and grumped.

“Suits me jus’ fine. I nebber wanted t’ come here in the first place. Stupid dart. Spinner must’a been warped.”

“The only thing that’s warped is you!” Zeb snarled, so venomously it made Puggles start.

“How much did you have to drink back there? Hmm? Five, six?”

“ Seven. I din’ pay for them if that’s what’s eatin’ ya. I still has all my money.”

“Karabast! I don’t care about the blasted money!”

Puggles slammed his small fist on the dash. “Honestly Zeb, I cain’t fer the life a’ me figger you out. Why is yew is so bowed up?”

Zeb chewed his lip. His anger swelled anew.

“ Because you’re a disgusting alcoholic and you refuse to see it!”

There came an uncomfortable silence. The gentle thrum of the speeder’s engine sounded like a roar in Zeb’s ears.

Shocked and hurt, Puggles turned over in his seat. His body was slumped against the door and his ears were drooping. A minute went by before he spoke. His voice was devoid of emotion.

“Yew jus’ keep on beein’ perfect Zeb. Show us pathetic losers what it’s like t’ be a livin’ god.”

Yeeeah, hopefully it will take me less than sixteen weeks to put up part three.

#Zeb Orrelios fan story #Puggles trodd #slice of life #star wars rebels related-ish #lasat #honor guards

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hilarieburtonmorgan · 4 years

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Inside Hilarie Burton Morgan’s Life on an Upstate New York Farm

The One Tree Hill star tells AD all about her new book and how she and her husband, Jeffrey Dean Morgan, have been dealing with social distancing

These days, Hilarie Burton Morgan is as likely to be sewing masks for first responders or washing the floors at her farmhouse as she is to be on your television. She stars on NBC’s Council of Dads, but she and her husband, The Walking Dead’s Jeffrey Dean Morgan, have largely left the typical Hollywood lifestyle behind. The couple and their ten-year-old son, Gus; two-year-old daughter, George; and a menagerie of animals—including three Highland cattle, five miniature donkeys, two dogs, chickens, ducks, and eight alpaca—have called the 100-acre Mischief Farm in upstate New York home since 2018.

“I’m always mopping these floors,” Burton Morgan tells Architectural Digest. “They’re these wide plank wood floors we found at a mom-and-pop reclaimed-wood company, and our muddy footprints are always there.”

On May 5, Burton Morgan released her first book, The Rural Diaries: Love, Livestock, and Big Life Lessons Down on Mischief Farm, about her life as a television star and her big move to the country. Here, the One Tree Hill alumna tells AD a bit more—specifically about how she’s coping during the current COVID-19 pandemic, which has led her to start projects around the house and has also spawned an AMC show called Friday Night In With the Morgans.

Architectural Digest: Your book seems perfectly timed for what we’re going through right now.

Hilarie Burton Morgan: I certainly didn’t plan on the book being as applicable as it is now. When I first started writing it, it was a response to joining social media. I saw a lot of people posting about their perfect beautiful lives sitting by their perfect pools, and ‘Doesn’t my butt look great?’ That wasn’t relatable to me. If it’s true that my book is timed right for the times we’re in, I know this: When I was dealing with rough patches, there were certain books that really inspired me. If my book can help someone, that’s the whole point of making art.

Hilarie Burton Morgan and her family reside on a working farm in upstate New York.

AD: In the book, you write about chopping wood and building chicken coops. Did all of this DIY stuff come naturally to you?

HBM: My mother didn’t have a housekeeper. We didn’t have anyone cut our lawn. Everything we did as kids was self-motivated and all hands on deck. I’m one of a lot of kids, and we always did home improvement projects as a unit. The book peels back a lot of glossy layers.

AD: Interestingly, during quarantine, lots of city people are examining whether the country life would be right for them.

HBM: I’m seeing a lot of city people posting on social media about not having space to roam around. They’re being forced to reckon with themselves since they can’t fill themselves up with events, cocktails with friends, or meandering around for the fun of it. That was something I had to grapple with when I moved to this community. I live on a piece of land where you don’t see your neighbors unless you set out to see them. I had to reevaluate who I was and who I wanted to be. A lot of people in quarantine are spending quiet hours dealing with that same thing.

AD: Since you’re home more than ever, have you taken on any renovating projects?

HBM: Right now, I’m in the process of purging. I also fell prey to a Facebook ad recently and ordered Backdrop Paint, which just arrived. I have two productive hours during the day when my daughter naps. I pack in everything I can during that time, so I will be painting all of the walls that have taken a beating from my children. I get picked on for being witchy, but I’m painting them black—I’m still a Goth girl at heart.

Mischief Farm is home to a variety of animals including miniature donkeys.

AD: Obviously you’re also taking care of your farm animals. Do you have a favorite?

HBM: I like the ducks. They’re such weird animals. They have big personalities, which isn’t something I was anticipating. They’re also very aggressive toward the other animals—they push our cows out of the way and steal their food! I like bossy women and I like bossy children, so there’s that.

AD: Are there any outdoor projects you’re kick-starting right now?

HBM: I’m the gardener in the family, and my goal is to overplant this year. Right now, everyone is conscious of where their food is coming from, and I’d like to be able to provide friends of ours with fresh produce, like zucchini, beans, and tomatoes.

AD: How has filming Friday Night In With the Morgans from home helped you stay connected?

HBM: It has been really nice. My husband pitched the show without even telling me. I think he saw me trying to maintain a healthy household for two little kids while also watching the news at night and becoming completely overwhelmed. We want this half hour to be a lighthearted but sensitive space where people can go after a long week. It’s also nice for us because it’s the one hour out of the week that we get to be together. We’ve been picked up for four more episodes. It feels nice to keep our AMC crew working, and it’s also good because we’ve been profiling the efforts that people across the country are making, including small business owners, farmers, and doctors. This idea of supporting as many people as possible was an important element to me.

AD: I know you’ve also been doing that by making masks.

HBM: I live in a small community. The people getting these are my neighbors; they’re other parents from school. Taking care of them is very important to me. There was a lot of momentum in the mask-making movement early on, and we’re seeing it taper off a bit. The weather is getting warmer and people are starting to ease up a little bit, but for the foreseeable future, until there’s a vaccine, we need to protect our essential workers and exercise supreme caution. Everyone will need a mask, and not everyone sews, so I’m planning to keep making them.

#hilarie burton #architectural digest #interview #2020

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 5 years

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Chapter Thirty-Two:

The One Where ‘Count Olaf’ Has Been Captured

Violet Snicket and Klaus Baudelaire stared at the scrap of paper, and then at Hector, and then at the scrap of paper again. Then they stared at Hector again, and then at the scrap of paper once more and then at Hector once more and then at the scrap of paper once again, and then at Hector once again and then at the scrap of paper one more time. Their mouths were open as if they were about to speak, but the two children could not find the words they wanted to say.

The expression ‘a bolt from the blue’ describes something so surprising that it makes your head spin, your legs wobble, and your body buzz with astonishment, as if a bolt of lightning suddenly came down from a clear blue sky and struck you at full force. Unless you are a lightbulb, an electrical appliance, or a tree that is tired of standing upright, encountering a bolt from the blue is not a pleasant experience, and for a few minutes, both Violet and Klaus stood on the steps of Hector’s house and felt the unpleasant sensations of spinning heads, wobbly legs, and buzzing bodies.

“My goodness, children,” Hector said. “I’ve never seen anyone look so surprised. Here, come in the house and sit down. You look like a bolt of lightning just hit you at full force.”

Violet and Klaus glanced at one another and then to Hector and then back at the couplet in Violet’s hand. “That’s because it has,” Klaus muttered.

The two children followed Hector into the house and down a small hallway to the parlor, their legs super wobbly, they held on to each other to keep from falling. They sat down on Hector’s couch without saying a word. “I’m going to fix you some hot tea before I start dinner,” Hector said smiling at both children. “Maybe by the time it’s ready, you’ll be able to talk.” He patted Klaus on the back as he walked towards the kitchen.

Without speaking, Violet unrolled the paper so the siblings could read the couplet again.

For our inheritance we are held in here,

Only you can end our fear.

“It’s her,” Violet said, speaking quietly so Hector wouldn’t hear her. “I’m sure of it. Isadora Quagmire wrote this poem.”

“I think so, too,” Klaus replied. “I’m positive it’s her handwriting. It’s surely her distinct literary style.”

“The poem talks about inheritance,” Violet explained. “Sunny will inherit the Baudelaire fortune and the triplets’ will inherit the Quagmire sapphires.”

“Olaf kidnapped them to get ahold of those sapphires and fortune,” he replied. “That has to be what the first line means,”

Violet put her finger to her lips indicating to Klaus to be quiet. She slowly glanced towards the kitchen to make sure Hector wasn’t paying attention. She pulled Klaus closer to her so it was easier to communicate with just her brother. “I don’t know how Hector got ahold of this,” she stated. “Let’s ask him.”

“Not so fast,” Klaus whispered back. “Maybe Hector’s involved with the kidnapping in some way...like Esme,”

Violet frowned. “I thought of that but do you really think so?” she asked. “It’s not healthy to live life unable to trust anyone. ”

“Your father lived on the run shouldn’t you be used to not trusting anyone?” Klaus asked incredulously.

Violet frowned. “That’s why I can’t keep living like this!” she whispered harshly. “He could be like Jerome…”

“Violet...what happened the last time we trusted someone?” He explained. “Esme pushed us down an elevator and Jerome left us like we were nothing,”

Violet sighed but nodded her head. “You don’t trust anyone, do you?” she asked.

He shrugged. “The list of people that I trust is vastly smaller than the ones that I don’t. I trust Sunny...and the Quagmires,” he said. “I also trust you. If that means anything,”

Violet gave a small smile. “Thank you,” she said. She glanced towards the kitchen again. “He seems like someone we can trust, though. He was excited to show us the migration of the crows, and he wanted to hear all about everything that has happened to us. That doesn’t sound like a heartless kidnapper, but I suppose there’s no way of knowing for sure,”

“Exactly. There’s no way of knowing for sure.” Klaus explained as Hector walked back into the room.

“The tea’s all ready,” Hector said placing a cup of tea in front of both orphans. “If you're up to it, why don’t you join me in the kitchen while I make the enchiladas.”

The two orphans looked at one another and slowly nodded. They picked up their teacups and carefully walked to a round wooden table, both opting to sit quietly as Hector prepared them a nice hot dinner. Both siblings were heavily weighing the pros and cons of entirely trusting Hector as they sat. Klaus was using his experiences with previous, ineffectual and sometimes very malice guardians to fog his judgment while Violet was trying to come up with some reason to use to convince Klaus that maybe Hector could be trusted. If not entirely, partially. She knew that her brother blamed her for trusting Esme and being pushed down the elevator shaft. He admitted that when they were stuck in the net but what Klaus didn’t understand about Violet is that she can’t keep living like this. She lived her entire life on the run with her father and most days she wouldn’t change that for the world. But some days, she would. She sees how sheltered and protected Klaus was growing up and it shows. His misfortunes with previous guardians before Violet came into the picture has been weighing a heavy tow on him. He was beginning to close up like a clam, only letting a select few in. Violet knew that might be the safest way and perhaps the smartest way to live. But it wasn’t the best way to live. If you can’t trust anyone...who is there to help you if you won’t let anyone. She wanted to trust Hector, hell she wanted to trust Esme although that ship has entirely sailed and Violet has now added Esme’s name to a list of people she needs to fuck up for their actions against her siblings and friends.

It is true, of course, that there is no way of knowing for sure whether or not you can trust someone, for the simple reason that circumstances change all of the time. I know the story of a man who fell in love with a wonderful woman who was so charming and intelligent that he trusted that she would be his bride, but there was no way of knowing for sure, and all too soon circumstances changed and she ended up marrying someone else, all because of something she had read in The Daily Punctilio. And no one had to tell the orphans that there was no way of knowing for sure because before they became orphans, Klaus and Violet lived for many years in the care of his parents or her father and trusted that their respective parents were going to keep on caring for them, but circumstances changed, and now the Baudelaire parents and Lemony Snicket are dead and the two children are living with a handyman in a town full of rows. While the younger Baudelaire orphan, Sunny, was currently in Olaf’s clutches alongside Duncan and Isadora Quagmire. But even though there is no way of knowing for sure, there are often ways to know for pretty sure, and as the two siblings watched Hector work in the kitchen they spotted some of those ways.

Violet noticed the tune he hummed as he chopped the ingredients, it was similar to the one that her own father had hummed when he cooked dinner. It was a comforting one. Violet didn’t know if he had learned it from the real VFD because he seemed so sure that his village was the only VFD, but either way, she couldn’t imagine that a person who hummed the same tune her father had could be a kidnapper.

Klaus noticed when he saw that the orphans’ tea was still too hot to sip, he walked over to the kitchen and blew on each of their mugs to cool it, something his own father used to do for him when the two would share a nice cup of tea as they read to each other. Klaus sighed when he realized that a person who was cooling two children’s tea could be hiding two triplets and his baby sister at the same time.

But most comforting of all, Hector didn’t pester them with a lot of questions about why they were so quiet and surprised. He simply kept quiet and let the two children wait until they were ready to speak about the scrap of paper he had given them, and the children could not imagine that such a considerate person was involved with Count Olaf in any way. By the time that he had finished the enchiladas, the two siblings were comparing him more to Jerome Squalor than Esme. Jerome may have been ineffectual and eventually, he had abandoned them but Jerome wasn’t working alongside Olaf. So the two siblings shared a small glance and a slight nod when Hector’s back was turning. Indicating to each other that maybe he was trustworthy enough to be an ineffectual guardian. There was no way of knowing for sure, of course, but as the children were served their dinner, both agreed on that much.

Violet sighed. “This poem was written by Isadora Quagmire,” she said without preamble as Hector sat down next to the children.

“Wow,” he said. “No wonder you were so surprised. But how can you be sure? Lots of poets write couplets. Ogden Nash, for instance,”

“Ogden Nash doesn’t write about inheritance,” Klaus said who had received a biography of Ogden Nash for his seventh birthday. “Isadora does. When the Quagmire parents died, they left behind a fortune in sapphires and when my parents died...they left a fortune for Sunny and me to inherit.”

“Besides,” Violet said twirling the scroll of paper between her fingers. “It’s Isadora’s handwriting and distinct literary style.”

“Well,” Hector said. “If you say this poem is by Isadora Quagmire, I believe you,”

“Maybe we should call Mr. Poe, and tell him,” Klaus suggested.

“WE can’t call him,” Hector explained. “Remember, no mechanical devices and telephones are mechanical devices. The Council of Elders could send a message to him. I’m too skittish to ask them, but you can do so if you wish.”

“Well, before we talk to the Council, we should know a bit more about the couplet,” Violet said. “Where did you get ahold of this paper?” she asked.

“I found it today,” Hector said. “Beneath the branches of Nevermore Tree. I woke p this morning, and I was just leaving to walk down to do the morning chores when I noticed something white among all the black feathers the crows had left behind. It was this scrap of paper, all rolled up in a little scroll. I didn’t understand what was written on it, and I needed to get the chores done, so I put it in the pocket of my overalls, and I didn’t think of it again until you were talking about couplets. It’s certainly very mysterious. How in the world did one of Isadora’s poems end up in my backyard?”

“Well, poems don’t get up and walk by themselves,” Violet said. “Isadora must have put it here. She must be someplace nearby.”

Hector shook his head. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You saw for yourself how flat it is around here. YOu can see everything for miles around, and the only things here on the outskirts of town are the house, the barn, and the Nevermore Tree. You’re welcome to search my house, but you’re not going to find Isadora or anyone else, I always keep the barn locked because I don’t want the Council to find out I’m breaking the rules.”

“Maybe she’s in the tree?” Klaus suggested desperately. “It’s certainly big enough that Olaf could hide her in the branches,”

“That’s true,” Violet pointed out. “Last time Olaf was keeping them far below us. Maybe this time they’re far above us.” She shuddered, thinking of how unpleasant it would be to find yourself trapped in Nevermore Tree’s enormous branches, and she pushed her chair back from the table and stood up. “There’s only one thing to do,” she said. “We’ll have to go up and look for them.”

Klaus responded with a miserable face, he sighed. “You’re right,” he said standing up. Even though he hated climbing, he would do anything for Sunny and the Quagmires.

“Hold on a minute,” Hector said. “We can’t just go climbing up Nevermore Tree,”

“Why not?” Violet asked. “I’ve climbed up a fire escape into a burning building. And Klaus and I climbed down an elevator shaft. Climbing a tree will be no problem,”

“I’m sure you two are fine climbers,” Hector said. “But that’s not what I mean.” He stood up and walked over to the kitchen window. “Look outside,” he said. “The sun has completely set. It’s not light enough to see a friend of yours in Nevermore Tree. Besides, the tree is covered in roosting birds. YOu’ll never be able to climb through all those crows,”

Violet and Klaus looked out the window and saw that Hector was entirely right. The tree was merely an enormous shadow, blurry around the edges where the birds were roosting. Klaus looked to his sister, hoping that she could invent a solution, and was relieved to hear she had thought of something before she could even tie her hair back in her ribbon. “We could climb with flashlights,” Violet said. “If you have some tinfoil, an old broom handle, and three rubber bands, I can make a flashlight myself in ten minutes,”

“Flashlights would only disturb the crows,” he said. “If someone woke you up in the middle of the night and shone a light in your face, you would be very annoyed and you do not want to be surrounded by thousands of annoyed crows. It’s better to wait until morning when the crows have migrated uptown.”

“But we can’t wait until morning!” Klaus cried. “We can’t wait for another second, the last time we found them, we left them alone and then they were gone again!”

“Klaus is right,” Violet cried. “Olaf could move them at any time!”

“Well, he can’t move them now,” Hector explained. “If they’re in the tree, it would be just as difficult for him to climb the tree,”

“We have to do something,” Violet argued. “This poem isn’t just a couplet,” she explained. “It’s a cry for help. She even wrote ‘only you can end our fear’. Our friends and baby sister are frightened, and it is up to us to rescue them.”

Hector frowned. “I’ll tell you what. You guys can use the room that looks out at the Nevermore Tree. The area is so flat that even at night you can see for quite a distance, and if Olaf or anyone else approaches, you’ll see them coming.” he sighed. “Normally, I don’t approve of children staying up all night unless they’re reading a very good book, seeing a wonderful movie, or attending a dinner party with fascinating guests. But this time I suppose we can make an exception. I’ll probably fall asleep, but you two can keep watch all night if you wish. Just please don’t try to climb the tree in the dark. I understand how frustrated you both must be...and I know that the only thing we can do is wait until morning.”

Violet and Klaus looked at one another and sighed. They were so anxious about the Quagmires and Sunny that they wanted to run right out and climb Nevermore Tree, but they knew in their hearts that Hector was right.

“I guess you’re right,” Violet said finally.

The two siblings spent their night taking turns sleeping for two hours. The other kept their eyes peeled out the window at Nevermore Tree. During Violet’s turns of being awake, she had to keep reminding herself to refocus on Nevermore Tree because she kept getting distracted by her brother’s flailing limbs and his desperate pleas in his sleep. She contemplated waking him up but she knew he needed sleep even if it wasn’t peaceful. He continuously muttered that he was sorry and that everything was his fault. Violet even took some time to sing the song she had sung to him at Mr. Poe’s. It seemed to be working, but only temporarily. Once the song ended, it didn’t take long for Klaus to start talking in his sleep again. She sighed. This wasn’t fair. He’s just a kid. He’s a fucking child. She told herself. She was a child, too. She knew it deep down but at this point in her life, that didn’t matter. She had to be the adult of the group. Even if she didn’t know how. And there were a lot of aspects of being an adult that she didn’t understand. She shuffled through her backpack quietly. Pulling out some of her ribbons and her father’s wallet. She tied a couple of the ribbons to her wrists considering which ones she’d give to Isadora once they found her and ones she’d give to Sunny once her hair was too long and had outgrown the yellow ribbon that was still attached tho their brother’s wrist. She glanced at her father’s wallet, opening it up and looking through it finally. She had only known that there was money within but as she emptied the pockets of his wallet, she found several pictures of herself. Aging from when she was a baby to her fourteenth birthday. She smiled. He had his own personal photo album in his pocket. A few pictures had his face showing, she felt tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She glanced towards Nevermore Tree. Still nothing just a bunch of crows. She shuffled the photos until she found one she had never seen before. It was a picture of her birth mother with a round belly. Most likely pregnant with her. She stood in between two men. One of which was her father, who was smiling. He was smiling. He had a hand on her mother’s stomach. Violet smiled back at the photo unsure of whether or not he was smiling because he was with the woman he loved or because of who was in that woman’s womb. She glanced at the man to the other side of her mother, who also had his hand on her stomach. The man wore glasses, similar to the ones her brother wore. He had brown hair and a goofy smile. She didn’t know any better but she could see some of Sunny’s features in this man’s face. Could this be….Klaus and Sunny’s father? She asked herself. Curiously, she flipped the photo over to see if her father had written anything on the back as he did for all of the photos of her. Right there in her father’s handwriting, it read: Bertrand Markson & Beatrice Baudelaire. The two loves of my life. She smiled at this. It was their father. Violet glanced towards Klaus, who was kicking his feet in his sleep. She held the small photo tightly. She knew that the three siblings didn’t have much to remember their parents by and that poor little Sunny might lose all her memories of them. She vowed to keep this photo safe for the three of them to share. This photo validated her being in their lives. She glanced at her sibling’s father. The smile he wore. How had placed his hand on her mother’s pregnant belly as if to say this child is my child, too. She felt tears in her eyes. She would’ve been loved. She would’ve been treated as if she were his own if fate didn’t turn the way it did. She wiped her teary eyes. She didn’t regret being raised by her father but it was nice to know...it was nice to have the proof that her siblings’ father would have treated her as his own and not some burden on his life. She shuffled through a few more pictures. There were several. There was one of just her siblings’ parents and there was one of her father with her mother and her father with their father. But one picture stopped her in her tracks. It was a group photo. She could see her father, birth mother, and siblings’ father standing together real close. She could also see a jolly, happy-looking man with a snake around his neck. The snake was leaning towards a fierce and formidable-looking woman and her husband, who was causally feeding the snake an apple. Behind them was a couple who had helped her find the bank back in the city. She realized immediately that this was the Quagmires’ parents. But the people standing next to them is what made her stop in her tracks. Not only did she see a younger, kinder looking Esme who had her arm wrapped around the shoulders of the strange man she had seen at the Auction Hall. The one who stared at her and looked visibly pissed when Olaf was anywhere near her. In this photo, she could tell he did resemble her father. They had to be related. Why was her relative allowing Esme Squalor to wrap her arm around his shoulder as if they were the best of friends? Her eyes widened when she glanced to the far left of the photo. Standing next to Esme. There was a woman, who kept her hair in a tight bun, with two pencils within it. Violet noticed that she resembled the man from Auction Hall as if they were twins. But that wasn’t what had Violet’s eyes widening. It was the man who had his arms wrapped entirely around that woman. The man had one eyebrow and even in the photograph, Violet could tell his eyes were very shiny. His smile was different, there was no malice behind it. No unbridled hatred. Olaf seemed happy in this photo. She flipped the photo over hoping to be proven wrong. There was no way Esme Squalor and Count Olaf were actually friendly to her parents. But as she glanced at her father’s handwriting, she could see that she was correct. From left to right (top row): Olaf (Drama Queen), Kit Snicket (Bad Driver), Esme Squalor (Diva), Jacques Snicket (Cow), Quentin Quagmire (Batman), Penny Quagmire (Robin). (Bottom row): Ike & Josephine Anwhistle (Fierce & Formidable), Montgomery Montgomery (Snake man), Bertrand Markson (Goof-ball), Beatrice Baudelaire (My Darling), Lemony Snicket (Snicket Lad). Violet glanced down at the bottom of the backside of the photograph where her father had written The good ol' days before everything went to shit. She frowned at that but She couldn't help but laugh at some of the names and descriptions that her father wrote. She didn’t fully understand all of the inside jokes but she did understand the ones for the Snickets. She flipped the photo over again and looked at the picture of her Uncle Jacques and Aunt Kit. She didn’t understand why her Aunt allowed Olaf to hold her so lovingly. She shuddered at the mere thought of any of her family being in a relationship with that fucker. She glanced at the photo of her uncle. It was definitely the same man who was trying to help her at the Auction. Was he trying to rescue her sister and her friends? Would he adopt her? Would he adopt her siblings and maybe her friends if she asked? Then her heart shattered when she noticed everyone in the photo had spyglasses similar to the one she held in her pocket. Would he indict her into VFD against her parents’ wishes? Was the only question that remained on her mind. She glanced at the rising sun and decided to let Klaus sleep for a bit longer. She stuffed all the photos back into the wallet. If she gets the chance to meet her uncle, she’d question him about that specific photo. She didn’t want to give Klaus any sense of false hope so she decided to keep this to herself. She watched the tree in silence as the sun slowly rose.

____________________________________________________

Klaus met up with Violet who was outside waiting for Hector to bring her breakfast.

“You didn’t wake me,” Klaus said rubbing his eyes.

“You looked like you needed sleep,”

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Violet asked confused. “I’m fine. I slept enough.”

He sighed. “Where’s Hector?”

“Finishing up breakfast,” she explained.

“It’s been a long time since anyone made us breakfast,” Klaus said smiling.

“Hector was right, though,” Violet said. “Huevos rancheros taste delicious even in desperate circumstances.”

“They don't make anything less desperate,” Klaus argued. “We have no idea where to find the Quagmires or Sunny.”

“It was hard enough to search that bitch’s fucking penthouse,” Violet said. “No, we have an entire village to search,”

As a few of the crows began to fly, the two siblings felt the morning breeze around them.

“We have to keep trying,” Klaus replied. “It’s not as though another clue is going to fall into our laps,”

Just as Klaus said this, a few black feathers and one white scroll breezed to them, effectively landing in Violet’s lap.

“What’s that?” Klaus asked.

“Poetry,” Violet answered, her eyes widening. “It’s another couplet.”

“Isadora?” Klaus asked.

“ Until dawn comes we cannot speak, No words can come from this sad beak.” Violet recited out loud.

Hector walked out with two plates of huevos rancheros. “You look shocked. What did I miss?”

“Another message from Isadora,” Klaus explained.

Violet stood up. “There might be more than crows in Nevermore Tree!” she yelled. “Come on, Klaus,”

With that, Violet and Klaus raced down Hector’s porch running towards the tree just as the rest of the crows began to take flight.

“Isadora!” Violet cried as she ran.

“Duncan!” Klaus cried as he ran.

“Sunny!” they both cried simultaneously as they reached the tree.

There are many expressions to describe someone who is going about something in the wrong way. “Making a mistake,’ is one way. ‘Screwing up’ is another, although it is a bit rude. ‘Attempting to rescue the Quagmires and Sunny Baudelaire by scaling the outside of a fashionable building or keeping a villain trapped at a restaurant”’ is a third way, although it is a bit too specific. But there is one expression that describes the children’s situation perfectly, and as soon as the murder of crows had all embarked on their morning migration. The two siblings could see that they were barking up the wrong tree.

“There’s nothing up there,” Violet cried.

“Nothing...and nobody,” Klaus added.

“I told you, children…” Hector said mournfully. “The Nevermore Tree is just a place where the crows migrate during the evening. What were you expecting?”

Klaus sighed. “I wasn’t expecting anything ...just hoping,”

Violet glanced towards the sky. “My head is spinning again and my legs are all wobbly and my body is buzzing just like yesterday. How in the world did Isadora get another poem here? We made sure that one of us was watching the tree at every moment.”

“Maybe it was here yesterday? but Hector didn’t see it?” Klaus suggested.

Violet shook her head. “A white scrap of paper is very easy to see next to all these black feathers. It must have arrived here sometime in the night. But how?”

“How it got here is the least of our questions,” Klaus said. “ Where are the Quagmires and Sunny? That’s the question I want answered.”

“But why doesn’t Isa just tell us?” Violet asked, rereading the couplet and frowning. “Instead of leaving us mysterious poems on the ground where anyone could find them?”

“That might be why,” Klaus pointed out. “Anyone could find them here on the ground. If Isadora simply wrote out where they were, Olaf could find the scrap of paper and he could move them...or worse,” both siblings shuddered as they imagined to vastly different scenarios in their heads. “I’m not that experienced with reading poetry, that was more of my father’s forte. But I bet Isadora is trying to tell us where she, Duncan, and Sunny are. It must be hidden somewhere in her poems,”

“It’ll be difficult to find,” Violet explained, rereading the poems. “There are so many confusing things about this poem. Why does she say ‘beak’? Isadora has a nose and mouth, not a beak.”

Klaus looked up at the sky. “Carrier pigeons,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Carrier pigeons are birds that carry messages, based on their regular migration patterns. They weren’t up in Nevermore Tree, but their messages were. Maybe they were sent by carrier crow. “ He explained. “That’s what she meant by ‘no words can come from this sad beak,”

“You might be right,’ Violet argued. “But why does she say that no words can come from it? Of course, no words can come from a beak. Birds can’t talk.”

“Actually,” Klaus began smiling. He loved it when he was able to infodump about one of the thousands of books he has read in his short time of being alive. “I read an ornithological encyclopedia when I was ten that discussed that parrots and myna birds can imitate human speech.”

“But there aren’t any parrots or myna birds around here. Just crows and crows certainly can’t speak.”

“They might not be able to talk...but maybe they can tell us where they’re hidden,” Klaus explained. “But speaking of speaking...what do you think she means when she said ‘until dawn comes we cannot speak’?”

“Well...this poem did arrive in the morning,” Violet explained. “Maybe Isadora means that she can only send us poems in the morning?”

“You might be right,” Klaus agreed. “Hector said that every morning, the murder of crows flies into VFD to roost. We can find them,”

“We just need an excuse to search the town,” Violet said.

Hector walked out of the house with buckets and other cleaning supplies. “Are you ready to do chores for the entire town?” he asked. Violet and Klaus smiled and followed Hector. During their walk to the town, Violet read Hector the newest poem.

He sighed. “This is really turning into a puzzle,”

“A puzzle is just something you do for amusement,” Klaus countered. “Duncan, Isadora, and Sunny are in grave danger. If we don’t figure out what these poems are trying to tell us, Count Olaf will…”

“Don’t even say it,” Violet said with a shiver. “We absolutely must solve this puzzle and that is that.”

The rest of the walk to the village was in silence. Both siblings trying their best to figure out the cryptic clue that was hidden in their friend’s poems. Once they reached the village, Hector became skittish as he noticed the Council waiting. “Ummm, I assume the Council of Elders is waiting for you,” he muttered to the two orphans. “I...uh...I’m going to trim the hedges and think about my mother,” he said walking away quickly. “I’ll see you later,”

“Okay,” Violet replied confused as the Elders walked up to the two children.

“There you are children,” one Elder said. “Someone has been making messes all over town. They TP’d our gas station, egged our church, and scared our poor donkey. Now he’s in need of a bath.”

“We have no idea who made these messes, although an eyewitness saw two white-faced women, a bald man, a man with hooks for hands, and a person of indeterminate gender near the scene.” a second Elder said.

“But we know who’s going to clean them,” the first Elder said.

“You are!” the third Elder yelled.

Violet and Klaus looked at one another as the Elders walked away from them. “If we search for them while we clean,” Klaus began.

“Then doing chores is useful,” Violet finished.

The two children followed Hector to Mrs. Morrow’s who was impatiently waiting in her pink robe on her front porch for them. Without a word, she handed Violet a pair of hedge clippers and handed Klaus a large plastic bag to gather up the leaves and branches that Violet and Hector would snip off. The two siblings did not comment on how rude Mrs. Morrow had been, they worked together to trim the woman’s hedges as they floated several theories, about the two couplets by Isadora Quagmire, until the hedge looked nice and neat and it was time to walk down the block to where Mr. Lesko lived. The two siblings recognized this man as the man who absolutely didn’t want them to live with him. He was ever ruder than Mrs. Morrow had been. He merely pointed at a pile of window-cleaning supplies and stomped back into his house. But once again, the siblings were concentrating on solving the mystery of the two messages they had been left. Violet and Klaus each began scrubbing dirt off a window with a damp rag while Hector climbed up to clean the windows on the second floor, but all the children could think of was each confusing line of Isadora’s poems. Until they were finished with the windows. The children thought about the couplets while they polished the Verhoogen doorknobs, and they thought about them when they swept the feathers from the street into a dustpan but they could not imagine how Isadora was able to get her poems directly to them. They thought about the couplets as they cleaned the gas station and the church. They carried the garbage and recyclables from all of VFD’s downtown residents and they thought about the poems as they ate a lunch of cabbage sandwiches that one of the VFD’s restaurants owners had agreed to provide as his part in the village’s attempt to raise these two children. They thought about the couplets as Hector read out the list of afternoon chores which included such tedious chores as making citizens’ beds, washing townspeople’s dishes, preparing hot fudge sundaes for the Council of Elders to enjoy as an afternoon snack, and polishing Fowl Fountain, but no matter how hard they thought the two children got no closer to solving the mysteries surrounding the couplets.

“I’m very impressed with how hard you two children are working,” Hector said as he and the children were busy scrubbing the fountain’s metal body. Hector was on a ladder scrubbing at the crow's metal head, which was facing straight up and spitting a steady stream of water out of a hole fashioned to look like its mouth as if the enormous bird were gargling and spitting up water. Both children found it odd that just the other day, the fountain had no water at all. But they were too concerned with the couplets to question it out loud to each other. “When the Council of Elders told me that the village was serving as your guardian,” Hector continued. I was afraid two small children wouldn’t be able to do all these chores without complaining.”

Klaus frowned. “I’m used to strenuous exercise,” he admitted. “When Sunny and I lived in Paltryville, we debarked trees and sawed them into boards,”

“And at Prufrock, we had to runs hundreds of laps each night,” Violet added.

“Besides we’re so busy thinking about the couplets that we’ve scarcely noticed our work,” Klaus explained.

Hector got super quiet as the Elders approached them. Violet and Klaus worried that he’d pass out and fall right off his ladder but he seemed to be doing fine. “Fowl Fountain still doesn’t look completely clean,” an Elder barked.

“Well, we’re not completely finished cleaning it,” Violet explained as politely as she could. “I do hope you enjoyed the hot fudge sundaes that we prepared for you earlier,”

“They were okay,” one Elder replied.

“Mine had too many nuts,” one Elder explained.

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Klaus replied sarcastically, not adding that anyone who is that picky about a hot fudge sundae should make it their damn selves.

“I guess Hector can finish cleaning the fountain. You two need to go to the Firehouse Saloon. It’s been closed for years because of rule number 18, which prohibits the pouring and serving of sarsaparillas.”

“No one ever goes inside,” another Elder explained. “So it could use a good dusting,”

The two siblings looked at one another both thinking the same thing. Could Olaf have hidden them in there?

“We’ll get right to it,” Violet said smiling. As she and Klaus ran to the Firehouse Saloon.

“Duncan!” Klaus called out.

“Isadora!” Violet called out

“Sunny!” they called out as they pushed through the front door. They glanced around, both felt their hearts beating in their chests as their eyes locked on the red herring statue that Olaf had used to transport their friends and baby sister from the Auction.

“The red herring,” Klaus muttered as both siblings dropped their cleaning supplies. “ Duncan!”

“Isadora!” Violet cried as the siblings reached the red herring.

“ Sunny!” they cried as Violet glanced around to make sure Olaf wasn’t in the saloon as Klaus tried to find the opening to the statue.

“They’re not answering,” Klaus cried.

Violet gripped the fin of the fish. “Grab the fin and pull,” she ordered. Both siblings grunted as they pulled the fish statue apart. They glanced in the fish, frowns forming on their faces. “No,” Violet cried.

“It’s empty,” Klaus said looking the statue over. It was so small, he couldn’t imagine two teenagers and a toddler fitting within it but he knew Olaf didn’t care about them at all and would force all three of them in there to suffer. His blood was boiling over as he thought about it.

“Klaus,” Violet said after a minute. “There’s something scratched here,”

Klaus looked to where Violet pointed. “‘DQ plus KB’” he read aloud. He smiled and then blushed when he realized that Violet was smirking at him. “I...I guess Duncan must have been in here,”

Violet still wearing the smirk on her face. “What was your first clue?”

“Oh, shut up,” Klaus said staring at the cute note that was scratched into the red herring. “You and Isadora kissed,”

“So?” Violet asked. “‘DQ plus KB’” she read mockingly ruffling Klaus’ hair. “Y’all two are so awkward and cute,”

“Shut up,” Klaus growled removing Violet’s hand from his hair. “Where are they?” he asked looking around the saloon. Desperately trying to change the subject. “Why haven’t we seen any sign of Olaf?”

“I don’t know, we’ve seen Esme and his troupe,” Violet pointed out.

Before Klaus could reply, the two children heard noise coming from outside the saloon. “What the?” Violet asked. The two children rushed quickly to the front door of the saloon nearly bumping into the Elders.

“What’s going on?” Violet asked as she watched townspeople flocking to the town hall.

The elder glanced at Violet. “Very good news for you, children,” they answered.

Klaus gripped onto his sister’s arm, eagerly awaiting to hear what the Council was going to say.

Once again I find it necessary to use the expression, ‘bolt from the blue.” You would think, after the mysterious appearance of not one but two poems by Isadora Quagmire at the base of the Nevermore Tree, that no more bolts from the blue would appear in the village of VFD. A bolt of lightning, after all, rarely comes down from a clear blue sky and strikes the exact same place more than once. But for Violet Snicket and Klaus Baudelaire, life seemed to be little else than bolt after unfortunate bolt from the blue, ever since the fires that had claimed the lives of their parents. And no matter how many bolts from the blue they experienced, their heads never spun any less, and their legs never got less wobbly, and their bodies never buzzed any less with astonishment when another bolt arrived from the blue. So when Violet and Klaus heard what the Elder’s said next, they almost had to sit down in the dirty old saloon because what they were told was an utter surprise. It was a message that they thought they might never hear, and it is a message that only reaches me in my most pleasant dreams, which are few and far in between.

“The news is…” The Elder began causing both siblings to hold in their breath. “Count Olaf has been captured.”

Violet and Klaus felt breathless as if a bolt of lightning had struck them once more. The siblings looked at one another giving each other hopeful smiles as they both began to cry tears of absolute joy.

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swanqueeneverafter · 5 years

Text

What Dreams May Come, Pt.30

Storybrooke. Swan-Mills House. (Emma pulls on her leather jacket and readies herself for what lies ahead.) Snow White: (Entering:) "Well, I've just come back from Camelot, and Guinevere agreed. Lancelot will lead their army into the Dream World. (Noticing the pensive look on her daughter's face:) Are you all right?" Emma: "Yeah. I mean, I've got to be, right?" Snow White: (Shaking her head:) "I hate that Morpheus is separating you two like this, and making you relive your cursed life. Do you know how he plans on doing that without the Dark Curse ingredients by the way?" Emma: (Shrugs:) "He's a god. I'm pretty sure he can do whatever he wants." Snow White: "If that were true, Morpheus would've enslaved us all by now. Zeus doesn't want him to succeed any more than we do." Emma: "Then why doesn't Zeus stop Morpheus himself? Why must we be the playthings of the gods?" Snow White: "I don't know. Hercules never understood it either, but I know you won't be alone for whatever comes." Emma: "Yeah, about that, are you sure coming with me is the best play here? I mean you and Dad have lead armies before, you'd be of more use on the battlefield." Snow White: "Emma, the realms are united because of you and Regina. Frankly, they owe you their support and their armies that go with it. All of our friends and family who are capable of fighting are going to do so. Plus, with Tiana rallying the people of Wonderland, Ruby and Mulan convincing Merida to lead her army, and Jasmine preparing her men, there will be more than enough leaders when the battle comes. (Pulling Emma in for a hug:) Many years ago, David and I made a choice to sacrifice your future to save ourselves. Today we're choosing you." Wonderland. (Tiana looks out at the gathered crowd nervously. Will, Alice, Robin & Regina stand with her.) Tiana: "I'm sorry. I don't think there’s enough beignet magic in the world to get the people to agree to this." Regina: "You won't need magic. I've heard about what you've managed to achieve here. From one Queen to another, you've got this." Tiana: "Right. Queen. (Taking a deep breath, she walks forward and addresses the people:) Folks. Please listen. Our people, o-our friends are in trouble and..." (The people talk among themselves, not listening until...) Will: "Oi, you lot, listen up." (The people fall silent.) Tiana: "Since I became your queen, Wonderland has done things differently. Unlike rulers our land has known in the past, I like to think that I've listened to my people. Together, we created a council of advisers to make sure everyone's voice would be heard. This will all end the moment Lord Morpheus gets his way and that is why we must fight. These are strange times, and we need to stand together more than ever. Your realm needs you. Your Queen needs you."

Dun Broch. (Ruby and Mulan stand by as Merida speaks to the clans.) Merida: "Only a coward would start a war he has no intention of fighting in himself. That is who Lord Morpheus is, a so-called god who refuses to even show his true face. We didn't ask for this, but we will fight with everything we have. We're not ashamed of who we are. So let's show them what happens when you face the combined might of clans DunBroch, Macintosh, Dingwall, and Macguffin!" (All those gathered raise their arms and roar in approval.) Agrabah. (Jasmine stands in front of her father, The Sultan, as they discuss Agrabah's role in the upcoming battle.) Jasmine: "Trade agreements?! You won't allow the army of Agrabah to join the battle because of trade agreements?" Sultan: "Jasmine, my angel, how can I possibly dedicate our troops to fight in this conflict when Arendelle does not? It will make our partners look bad." Jasmine: "Elsa isn't sending her army because they will be protecting those from the combined realms who cannot fight! Arendelle isn't abstaining, they're defending." Sultan: "The fact remains, they are not sending troops, so neither can we." Jasmine: (Emits a scream of frustration:) "Oh, this is insane. I cannot believe you sometimes. But you know what? Maybe this is for the best.” Sultan: "Good, then we're in agreement." Jasmine: "Absolutely. Aladdin and I shall go, while you and Agrabah's army stays here like the bunch of inadequate imbeciles you are." (Jasmine storms from the room without another word.)

Underworld. Present. (Morpheus/Hades stands over Hook, admiring his handiwork.) Morpheus/Hades: "I'm afraid the time has come for me to leave you, Captain. You have been a most wonderful distraction, it's been exciting hasn't it?" Hook: (Bloodied and beaten, groans in pain and rolls over slightly:) “It will be... when I kill you.” Morpheus/Hades: (Laughs:) You can't kill me. I'm a god. (Chuckling:) This... where we are now, is death.” Hook: “Well, then, I'll find whatever's worse and do it to you.” Morpheus/Hades: (Kneels beside him:) “The only thing that could kill me is the sword forged by Zeus from the remnants of the Olympian crystal. Even then, it can only work if it is wielded by the one true king to unite them all. Zeus placed it in my realm in an attempt to stop me, but luckily, no one knows where that is.” Henry’s Dreamscape. (Richard is seen wielding the sword... using the hilt to crack walnuts with.) Underworld. Continued. Morpheus/Hades: “So, Captain, (Pulling him to his feet:) since you are neither the one true king or currently in my realm, I’m not too worried.” Hook: “You’re just going to leave me down here?” Morpheus/Hades: “Oh I certainly could, but no. I’m going to give you a shot at redemption. A chance to escape the Underworld and return home a new man.” Hook: “And why would you do that?” Morpheus/Hades: “Because when I become the supreme ruler of all the realms of story, I’ll need someone to tell the people that I’m not such a bad guy. Orpheus and Eurydice, do those names ring a bell?” Hook: “I can’t say they do, no, but I’m sure you’ll tell me all about them.” Morpheus/Hades: “They are the only two souls known to have ever escaped the Underworld.” Hook: “How?” Morpheus/Hades: “Orpheus helped Eurydice escape by feeding her ambrosia, the food of the gods.” Hook: “And where exactly do you get some of that?” Morpheus/Hades: (Smiles:) “Glad to see you’re paying attention but, seeing as you’re not really dead, you won’t be needing any ambrosia. Which is good news because the real Hades chopped down the tree where the ambrosia grows from a long time ago. However, you will still need to follow in the lovers’ footsteps and find the room. Inside, there will be a portal that will take you wherever you wish to go. Now, listen closely, I shall say this only once.” Giant's Lair. Past. (Arlo and Jack are fighting. Meanwhile, Prince James is filling a sack full with treasure.) Jack: (Thrusting her sword into Arlo's heel:) “Uhh!” Arlo: “Aah! Ha!” (Arlo pulls the sword out from his heel. He lunges forward and grabs Jack.) Jack: “AAH! James! Aah! (James turns and sees she needs help, but he just stands there. Jack grunts as she tries to free herself before Arlo stabs her with her own sword:) UHH!” (Arlo drops Jack. Prince James goes back to filling his sack at a faster rate than before. The poison of the sword takes effect. Arlo loses his balance and collapses. Anton enters.) Anton: “Arlo? (He sees Arlo on the ground:) No. (Anton falls to his knees next to Arlo:) No, no, no, no!” (Prince James finishes filling his sack and starts to run toward the beanstalk.)

Jack: “James! (Prince James stops:) Please.” Prince James: “I'm sorry, Jack. But I have a kingdom to run. I'm sure you understand.” (Prince James runs off. Jack lets out a weak groan and dies.) Arlo: “Anton... the poison. It's in my blood. Did you...” Anton: “All destroyed. The fields and every last bean.” Arlo: “Oh, good. Good. That's what's important.” Anton: “No. Everyone else is dead. You can't die, too, please.” Arlo: “I know your path is hard. But someday you will know which road to choose. And when you do, (He pulls out a vial:) you will need this. A preserved cutting from the stalk. (Anton takes the vial:) Plant it. New beans will grow.” Anton: “But you had me salt the land. Nothing can grow here.” Arlo: “Then someday you will find... new land.” (Arlo dies.) Anton: “How? Arlo? Arlo?! (Whispers:) No.” Storybrooke. Present. (David stands looking down at the magic bean in his hand while Anton continues handing out beans to the others.) Anton: "It's been a good harvest this year and the beans are plentiful, but I've never heard of them being used in the Dream World before." David: "There's no guarantee once we're in Morpheus' realm that we'll all arrive at the same location. The beans are our best shot at gathering everyone in one place, it just may take a few tries."

Anton: (Reaches Emma and Regina:) "I heard what Morpheus has planned for you guys and er... I think you should take three each." Regina: "Thank you." Emma: "Thanks, Anton." (They hug.) Alice: (To Zelena:) "What did the people of Oz have to say?" Zelena: "Well, I've warned them. Whether any of them will turn up to do their part is another thing. But then again, what good would Munchkins be in a fight anyway?" Tiana: "Actually, you'd be surprised." Zelena: "What about you, any luck?" Tiana: "We took a vote and it's mostly going to be those who fought with me during the Black Fairy's curse and a few Lost Boys joining us." Zelena: "Better than nothing, I suppose. (To Robin:) Are you ready for this?" Robin: "Oh yeah, and while we're helping Aunt Regina, Alice and Will have a plan of their own." Zelena: "Really?" Alice: "Yep, Will and I have a history in the Dream World and we might just be able to use that to find Henry."

(Anton makes his way over to Rumplestiltskin and Belle.) Anton: "Regina and Emma told me Morpheus has plans for you too. So here, take a few extra beans." Belle: (As Rumple takes the beans:) "Thank you, Anton." Anton: (Nods. To Will:) "Will?" Will: "I'll take as many as you can spare, mate. I don't feel good about this at all." Rumplestiltskin: (Chuckles:) "Great. Now I'm in agreement with Will Scarlett." Belle: "Listen to me, Rumple. You have survived way worse than this. I know you'll find a way to save Henry and come back to us." Rumplestiltskin: "Belle, I don't know what I'd do without you." Belle: (They kiss:) "After this, you'll never have to find out, I promise." Henry’s Dreamscape. (Gareth is polishing his armour in his room when Madelena enters.) Queen Madelena: “I'm sorry your birthday's been such a bust. I really tried to get someone to hit you.” Gareth: “It's all right. It's just nice to know you care.”

Queen Madelena: “But I do have one last birthday surprise that unexpectedly arrived. I think you're going to love it. (Lord Morpheus enters the room:) How would you like an unprovoked war to seize control of all the realms?” Gareth: (Stands, throwing his sword over his shoulder:) “Best birthday present ever.” (Both Madelena and Morpheus laugh.) Morpheus: “Dingdong.” Storybrooke. (With their friends, family and several armies behind them, Regina and Emma stand in front of the sapling.) Emma: "So how does this work, exactly?" Blue Fairy: "As both of you share True Love with your son, when you touch the sapling together while thinking of Henry, a portal should open, taking you to him." Regina: "Morpheus said he'd send Emma and I to different realms as soon as we stepped into the Dream World. So once we open the portal, we need to be the last to enter. (To Emma:) Ready?" Emma: (Nods:) "Let's do this." (Taking each others hand, they both reach out and touch the sapling, causing the cave to fill with a brilliant green light.)

#sq #swanqueen #swan queen

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ladymdc · 6 years

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Feathers & Fur

I wanted to just ramble into the void for a second because I never thought I’d finish this fic.

I posted about half of this work back in 2015 under the same title. However, I deleted it because I was insecure & easily discouraged. I'm not sure what spurred me to revive it, but I am glad I did.

Since then, I have met a lot of wonderful people in the fandom and have made some great, real friendships. Without these individuals ((you know who you are)), I wouldn't have finished this. I know it isn't perfect, but I love that I tried, and I love that I finished it.

I tossed the epilogue below the cut for anyone interested in some floof and I also commissioned a lovely piece of art from Kawereen to celebrate this smol victory. You can see it here.

Pairing: Cullen x Trevelyan (A Soulmates AU) Rating: Explicit Summary: A tear in the soul lets the Fade in.

Not wishing to harm His children, the Maker breathed life into the rend with the promise they could be whole once again, but the Fall from Grace removed that promise. A gift turned curse as the rend was freed from those who created Sin, allowed to also turn their back upon them. To harshen their punishment the broken soul, longing to be whole, continues to feel the call of its missing piece in dreams.

That Cullen was hers, within reach, was the Maker's cruel joke.

Something woke him, what exactly Cullen could not be sure. The dream had been formless, but it left him with a vague sense of dread and restlessness. Thankfully, dawn was not far off. The stars were fading as black turned to grey, and even though she had curled away from him at some point in the night, Evelyn was there.

Sleep was not so difficult for either one of them as it used to be. Cullen remembered a time when they both used to work until they couldn’t anymore. Back then, Evelyn used to fall asleep with her chestnut hair still elaborately braided, wake up, decide it didn’t look too bad and pick right back up where she had left off with Inquisition business. Now it was always loose, falling in soft waves that cascaded down her back.

Normalcy looked good on her.

Quietly, Cullen got out of bed and put on warm clothes. Even though spring had officially arrived, there had been a few light frosts the past week and one brief flurry of snow. He was spending time each day splitting wood by the shed next to the house for good measure. Probably would continue to do so throughout the summer so when winter came, they would have more than enough firewood.

Winters would be hard, but that was nothing new. They had been so at Skyhold too. It would be more than worth the quiet and solitude. Plus, he and Evelyn had each other; they would do what they had always done. Protect one another, keep each other warm, share their strengths.

Survive.

Before heading downstairs, there was a moment where he almost leaned down to place a kiss on her temple. Old habits died hard, especially when they were rooted in fear and uncertainty. The move had been taxing, on them both, but more so on Evelyn. She was still recovering from it, and she needed her rest, so instead of risking waking her, he added two logs to the fire. He would hate for her to get cold in his absence.

In the den, Cullen did the same, and Dante let out an appreciative grunt from his place on the rug. The hound seemed just as pleased with their new home as they were. The Battered Shield had been a home as Skyhold had been. Someplace to store their things and be together while Cullen did what he could to set things right.

After Corypheus had been defeated, his betrayal of Meredith and subsequent public departure from the Order finally became a point of contention. Cullen acknowledged he had taken oaths and that he had broken them, but he would not admit he had done wrong. The continual backlash had been disheartening, but the Inquisition and his family had stood by him, had helped him through the worst of it. And even though he was still ostracized by the Order, he held no regret. Cullen knew he was not the only one; he was merely a figurehead, an easy target for them to make an example of, just like Evelyn had been for the Exalted Council.

She had given the world everything, but it was never enough. They betrayed her in the end, just as Solas had, so when Evelyn disbanded the Inquisition in her bitterness, Cullen had only felt relief. If she had ever needed to put herself first, it was then. Without the Anchor, the incredible mana reserve she had grown accustomed to, Evelyn was left frail and weak.

The clinic had been a simple ‘what if’ Cullen had errantly considered when he learned just how many other Templars had chosen the same path. And when he and Evelyn were left standing there, alone and adrift, on the marble steps to the Winter Palace, he knew what he needed to do for himself as much as for Evelyn.

The Battered Shield had been good for her; allowed her to adjust and put the pieces of herself back together in some capacity. It had taken time, but eventually, she was ready to go home.

The two-story cottage was unpretentious, simple, and most importantly, theirs. They had built it from afar, and only Cullen had seen it before moving in because of Evelyn’s condition. He smiled to himself as he thought back to when she first laid eyes on the homestead, recalling peace and contentment that had filled her. There was still some unpacking to do. Nine or so crates lined the half-wall that separated the large open room that served as a den and dining area from the kitchen. They would get around to it; there was plenty of time.

Cullen washed his hands before making breakfast. They had some aged cheddar and leftover biscuits from the day before, so he decided to fry up some bacon. A little of everything went in Dante’s bowl along with a slice of salted beef, then Cullen made a sandwich for himself and one for his wife. He set hers on the table.

Standing in front of the large window that faced the lake in the kitchen, Cullen ate and watched color bleed back into the world as dawn broke. Light sparkled through the low fog creeping across the black waters. The trees standing sentinel became grey-green; the sky a motley of hues. Part of him wished Ev was awake to greet the day with him, but the other part was more than pleased she was still sleeping. He could get the morning chores taken care of, then spend time with her putting their belongings away.

Outdoors, wind sighed through the tree branches and ruffled his hair as Cullen walked to the stables. It smelled of winter. Perhaps another flurry was on its way. The horses were already awake, but Cullen refilled the water tank and set out the hay before letting them out of their stalls. His lean, umber stallion lipped his palm before making its way outside with the workhorses. A little farther down, Evelyn’s destrier, the large grey creature with eerie red eyes, snorted impatiently.

Once the door opened, its ears turned forward, but it didn’t exit. Cullen stroked the horse’s neck, thinking on how Evelyn never got to see her father before he passed. Josephine had felt personally responsible for it because she had requested the visit be postponed so Evelyn could travel and personally thank the Inquisition’s allies.

Immediately after it happened, the tour was canceled so she could at least go pay her respects at the gravesite in Ostwick. The only silver lining to the situation was her two surviving brothers had insisted upon making amends. They wrote often, and had supplied the workhorses and the wagons for their move; even refused their coin though the charge would not have stunted he and Evelyn financially in any way.

Eventually, Shadow exited his stall and headed down to the water’s edge. A moment later it raised its head and looked back toward the house. The only clouds in the sky rose from the chimney. Like him, the creature seemed to have a sixth sense about Evelyn. Cullen could always tell when she woke. His mind felt sharper; his perceptions more defined then they had ever been on lyrium. He felt awake.

If it were warmer, she would break her fast on the back porch. Let the landscape swallow her up. Breathe in the fresh air mixed in with the scents of earth and grass and flowers and wood like she had the first time he brought her there. Cullen had a sudden urge to go to her, to check on her, but he set it aside. It wouldn’t be much longer until he was finished.

After he was done cleaning out the stalls, Cullen set out the horses’ food and went to chop wood. The builders had left a monstrous pile of neatly stacked logs by the house ready for splitting. There was more than enough space in the shed for storage, so he planned to keep it full at all times in case he got injured or fell ill for any amount of time during the winter. But for now, Cullen decided to split just enough to replenish what they had used since yesterday.

The ax had just come down, splitting the wood with a crack, when he heard a faint crash from inside. His heart picked up speed, and his thoughts raced even as he knew she was fine.

Inside, Cullen set the ax down by the back door and found her standing where he had eaten earlier. Dante was at her side and if a mabari could look concerned, concerned he was indeed.

Evelyn stopped absently scratching Dante’s ear and waved her hand dismissively. “It was just a plate,” she said.

But it was more than that, and they both knew it.

“How was breakfast?” Cullen asked, washing his hands. He made note of the pitcher of water with some lemon and elfroot submersed in it out on the counter top.

“It was good, thank you.”

He smiled, taking a step back to pluck the hand towel off the countertop behind him and a chunk of plate crunched under his boot.

“I swear it went everywhere when I dropped it. There’s probably pieces upstairs somehow,” Evelyn said with a laugh. It was still a little watery despite her efforts. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t pick it up; I tried.”

“Like you said, it was just a plate, but you shouldn’t be walking around barefoot until it’s cleaned up,” he said, tossing the rag aside so he could cup her cheek and feel the ample swell of her stomach. The life growing inside her shifted and stretched at the contact. There was no stopping the grin that spread across the face nor the joy in his heart.

“It won’t be much longer now,” Evelyn said, finally smiling, bright and honest, as she placed her hand atop his. “Maybe tonight if we’re lucky.”

Cullen ran his fingertips along the thin chain around her neck, following it down to his coin. He held it between finger and thumb, feeling the familiar grooves. Mia and her family were staying out in the original cabin that now served as a small guest house while the rest of their friends and family that insisted on being around to help were staying at The Gallivanting Golem nearby in Honnleath.

“When it’s time, it’s time,” he said, leaning down to brush their mouths together.

What Cullen had went far beyond luck; it was everything he never expected from life or ever dared hope for. It was that something more he longed to be part of and it was perfect.

#cullen rutherford #cullen x trevelyan #evelyn isla trevelyan #my writing #mdcwrites #feathers & fur #I finished a thing #finally #never thought I would tbh #dragon age #dragon age fanfic #thanks to those of you who gave it a chance

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