#except for Dream in this part of the story-

[rafessecret]

What if we have step!bro!rafe is with his friends and one of his friends is dating step!sister!reader

⋆˚࿔ step¡sister reader && rafe cameron

ARE YOU LETTING HIM TOUCH WHAT'S MINE?

Rafe didn’t notice it at first. Your boyfriend was just one of his friends—always around, always loud, always drinking his beer and laughing at his jokes. But then he started noticing. The way you giggled a little more when he was around. How your shoulder brushed against his a little too long. How you looked up at him like he hung the fucking moon. And it made Rafe's skin crawl.

You’d been his first. Or maybe not technically. But you were the first thing that ever made him feel insane. His sweet little stepsister. Off-limits. Untouchable. Except for that one night. That one night that changed everything.

So when your new boyfriend took your hand and brought you onto Rafe’s boat like he belonged there, it made Rafe want to take a bottle to the side of his head. You looked angelic—your bikini practically nonexistent, your glossy lips smiling as you perched in his lap like it was nothing. Like it wasn’t Rafe’s lap you used to giggle in, just last summer. You leaned in and kissed the boy’s shoulder. And Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard he saw stars.

He didn’t drink that night. Not a sip. Just stood with his glass, watching, silent. Blue eyes tracking every movement, every little squeal you made when your boyfriend whispered something in your ear. Later, after the party had settled into something lazy and quiet, the waves rocking the boat, you wandered the hallway of the cabin alone, towel slung low on your hips. Rafe stepped out of the dark.

❝You're really going to let him touch you like that? In front of me?❞ His voice was low, calm, terrifying. You froze. The hallway was narrow. You had nowhere to go. Your lips parted like you wanted to explain something, but all you did was shove past him, too scared to say anything.

The next time was worse.

Movie night. Just the group. Just a stupid movie and popcorn at Rafe’s place. You curled up with your boyfriend under a blanket Rafe recognised immediately. His blanket. His fucking favourite. You giggled when your boyfriend chewed at your neck when his hand disappeared under the throw. And Rafe sat in the far corner, all quiet rage and static fury. He couldn’t look away. He didn’t blink.

When everyone’s asleep, you tiptoe to the bathroom—but Rafe grabs your wrist in the hallway and drags you back against the wall. ❝Are you letting him fuck you?❞ he growls. His voice shakes—not with grief, but with fury. ❝Are you letting him touch what’s mine?❞

❝I’m not yours,❞ you whisper, heart racing. ❝The fuck you’re not.❞ His hand trembles on your arm. His breath is all over your neck, hot, angry. You shove him away. But that’s not the end. But what could you say? That you missed Rafe’s hands? That you dreamed of his mouth? That even now, while you slept tangled in someone else's arms, you weren’t really his?

Then came dinner.

You, Rafe, your boyfriend, and Ward. A perfect picture of family and friendship. Ward is oblivious and loud, telling stories about island deals and old fishing tales. Your boyfriend had his hand on your thigh under the white linen tablecloth, and you smiled, soft and pretty.

Rafe smiled too—but it didn’t reach his eyes. He kicked his friend under the table, so hard he winced. Ward didn’t notice. In the parking lot, Rafe got close. Too close. His mouth near your boyfriend’s ear. ❝You might be dating her, but you don’t know her. Not like I do.❞

The boy laughed, brushing it off. That was his first mistake. Two days later, Rafe walked into your room. Didn’t knock. He never did. Just opened the door like it was his, because part of him still believed it was.

You were on your bed. In your boyfriend’s hoodie. Smiling at your phone, cheeks warm and glowing. You looked happy. And that did something bad to Rafe. He walked in and took the phone from your hands before you could react. ❝You really let him call you baby?❞ You flinch. ❝Go away.❞

❝You think he’d still want you if he knew what we did that night in the laundry room?❞ he asks, voice dark, curling into your spine like a knife. Your stomach flips. You hate him. You hate how right he is. How your body remembers every second of that night—how you cried out into the towels with your mouth stuffed and his hands everywhere.

You hate how much you want him again now. Rafe looks down at you, breathing hard. He tosses the phone onto the bed and walks out, leaving the door wide open. Your heartbeat never slows. Because no one knows you like Rafe does. And no one ever will.

── ⋆ 𝐲𝐚𝐩 : ahh i loved this anon idea sm, it’s sooo yummy. i’d never thought about it before and it’s genuinely so good, def taking more suggestions for this dynamic bc i’m a little obsessed now angels . . kept this one a lil cleaner + not super detailed just ‘cause i wanted to set the scene a bit first, not go straight into like rafe fucking you dumb or making him too mean too quick. was gonna make it topper or kelce but figured they probs already know about rafe + you from my other fics so i couldn’t :( left him nameless instead which i lowkey regret now . .

── ⋆ 𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒔 : @scne-vampire @browniepop62 @urcoolgf

©RAFESSECRET ⋆˚࿔ est. 2025

[tinycurlyfry]

What's the role of suo character? He is considered as main character with nirei or as deuteragonist but I see he has no importance outside protecting nirei!. I don't understand the hype around his mysterious aura

I think probably what you're looking for is a more flashy fight/action centric series then! You'd probably enjoy all this time you're putting into sending anonymous asks about a show you don't see the appeal of more if you spent it instead on media you can enjoy! However, I will absolutely take this opportunity to gush about Suo you are giving me on a silver plate happily! So let's talk about why Suo is so fascinating narratively!

Labeling him as a deuteragonist is actually pretty spot on, to be honest. He is a character that sticks by the protagonist's side pretty consistently throughout the story. Suo as a character gives advice to Sakura about what will help him grow and achieve what he wants as class captain as well as provides an interesting combination of parallels as well as differences in perspectives compared to Sakura. Additionally, Sakura's presence draws forth the aspects of Suo's character that are likely to be developed within the story. Let's start with how Suo provides a difference in perspective for Sakura!

There is more strength in drive and ideals than in physical strength

Suo says it pretty clearly to Sakura before his match in the Shishitoren arc-

When he first met Sakura, it is very likely his first impression was 'ah, here's yet another brute who thinks he can beat others up and claim himself to be the strongest'. The same kind of person Sakura calls weak or lame himself. However, even Sakura's goal that he says to everyone in the beginning... kind of reflects this idea that physical strength gives you value. He judges Nirei because he can immediately tell Nirei isn't a fighter yet is a student at Furin, he thinks the only thing that is important is winning fights and making sure everyone knows they can't bend him under their will. Sakura thinks the only thing valuable about himself is his fighting ability/strength. But what is shown through his actions? That he protects those who can't defend themselves. That he is pissed off when someone enjoys causing others pain or suffering. Outside of the manga, when asked about what Suo's dream is, he says 'emancipation of slaves'. Right from the get-go he is challenging Sakura to start to think about what his purpose is when he fights. Because it's not really about just proving he's the strongest guy around. Why does this bleed so much into what Suo says to Sakura? Well, for Suo-

2. Empathy is the most important thing to possess

Suo is extremely good at understanding where other people are at emotionally/mentally. A LOT of his dialogue is trying to explain how a person might be feeling or encouraging others (rather forcefully at times haha) to try to demonstrate empathy themselves.

Suo is the calm to Sakura's storm. Except. Suo isn't actually the calm. Not in truth. This is part of why he is so intriguing as a character. It is also where Suo starts to actually parallel Sakura. Because Suo is-

Very Emotional

Incredibly so. The difference is, Sakura wears his heart on his sleeve. He doesn't hide how he feels or his inner thoughts at all because Sakura wants to be true to himself no matter what. It's hard for him, it is agonizing for him at times because of his bad prior experiences, but it is still something he tries to do at all times. Suo, however? Keeps those emotions hidden behind a "friendly" smile most of the time (to talk towards him being appealing- a lot of people like characters who put up fronts. I am included in this 'lot of people' lmaoo. I am such a sucker for a character who puts up a front to guard themselves or keep others at an arm's length).

But Suo gets angry. Incredibly so. He also judges others all the time. He's VERY opinionated, but he doesn't often state any of these opinions so directly. It's important to Suo that he upholds appearances and comes across as disciplined, calm, and collected. Sometimes though, he is anything but. Which is what we're shown in the Keel arc. Keel takes advantage of kind people who are just strong enough to be useful, but weak enough that they can be beaten into submission and manipulated. And that? Already pisses off Suo I'm sure. But then, on top of everything else, Suo is kept from running to the aid of someone he cares about. Someone who has such good drive, who also has a strong core but has some ways to go in being able to act on that drive. Suo is kept back from saving his friend and Nirei is beaten into unconsciousness. So what happens? Attempted murder. Suo's anger and frustration boils over. He hates these people. He hates seeing those he cares about and seeing those who can't defend themselves, broken. So he's going to put an end to it. To them. "Nice Guy" façade be damned. "The level headed one" be damned. And we get this look at Suo in a chapter literally titled "Extreme Emotions"

Which like, if you wanna talk about why his character garners a lot of hype, I think a large part of it is because of his aura when he's genuinely mad. It's the duality of it all.

I don't have as smooth of a transition for this one but what else does Suo do that Sakura absolutely does as well?

2. He keeps people at an arm's length; he doesn't like letting people in

This is also where Suo has a lot of duality, but here it makes him something of a hypocrite. He tells Sakura it's important to delegate and rely on others alongside Nirei. He pokes and prods Sakura to try to get him to open up to them. To not assume how others feel. But Suo doesn't show that himself. The ONLY thing Suo has honestly given about himself is that he has a mentor who taught him the 'hodge-podge' martial arts he uses as his fighting style. Everything else? Jokes, lies, dismissive words. Suo is hardly ever injured or dirtied in a fight because it isn't a conversation to him. He's the one doing the talking. He's the one teaching a lesson to the other person. The other person doesn't need to say anything to Suo. He's already pretty damn sure what kind of person they are. He doesn't eat with the others because he claims he is on a diet. It keeps him from participating in what is probably the BIGGEST symbolism/metaphor for personal connections in the story. Because Suo doesn't try to connect with others. He actively avoids it.

So uh, yeah! That's why I think people find Suo interesting and get hyped about when he's on screen/in chapter panels! I am sure there are other things that could be said, but I hope I could offer some insight!

[22ayla21]

Congrats on 1k!!! I’d like chocolate cake & hot chocolate w/ Sebek!<33

"Chocolate Cake and Hot Chocolate"

Event: "Sweet Stories, Intoxicating Feelings"

Rain drizzled over the Night Raven College, like a transparent veil, as if the sky itself had decided to wash away excess emotions. Gray light seeped through the stained-glass windows, but in one of the training halls, where discipline and strength were honed, its own sun was blazing at this hour—not in rays, but in passion and tension.

Sebek was refining his skills. The swings of his sword were swift, precise, and accurate to the millimeter. He couldn't afford even the slightest weakness. Too much was at stake: honor, dignity, the cherished dream of becoming a knight worthy of the Young Master. But in recent months, a new, unfamiliar feeling had settled in his heart—exciting and ominous, like a dawn thunderstorm.

Her. A girl from another world. Fragile in appearance, but with an unyielding inner core. Her steps were light, like the breath of a spring breeze, and her gaze was direct and clear. She seemed to him a living enigma that stirred his thoughts and awakened his will. With each new meeting, he understood more and more clearly: now his heart beat not only for lofty ideals, but also for her.

His love for her was multifaceted, like a rich chocolate cake, with deep layers and a rich palette of shades. Outwardly, he remained composed, strict, and firm. Inside, however, softness, warmth, and a kind of viscous, captivating feeling matured. He often lacked the words to express how dear she had become to him, but he felt it with every cell of his body.

She burst into his life unexpectedly, like a sip of hot chocolate on a damp day. Beside her, he felt a comfort and security that he had never sought in anyone except his mentor. It was strange to feel such a thing for a girl whose past was shrouded in mystery, whose present did not quite fit into the foundations of their world. But does love obey rules?

"Training alone again?" Her voice entered the hall easily but confidently.

Sebek froze. His eyelids flickered, and for a moment he lost all his sternness. Straightening up, he lowered his sword.

"Yes. I must hone my skills to the limit!" he replied a little louder than he intended, and then added a little quieter, "Did you... come to watch?"

She smiled, settling comfortably on a bench, and there was no trace of the grayness of the rainy day in her eyes. "No. Just to remind you that sometimes rest is just as important a part of training."

He snorted. "Rest is for the weak!"—but immediately caught himself and softened his tone: "Although... if you want, I can take a break."

She came closer, and his heart squeezed painfully. Her palms, warm as a cup of freshly made hot chocolate, touched his hand.

"You take on too much, Sebek. Even knights need to feel loved."

His cheeks flushed. A thought flashed through his mind: Love is not a battle. Not armor. It's...

"I..." he swallowed hard, as if the air had become thick as icing. "I don't know how to express it... like you do. But know this: you... are like a spell. I don't always understand how you do it, but every time... I'm amazed."

She laughed softly, and that sound was more precious to him than any praise from Lilia or his grandfather. Beside her, he felt a little clumsy, but her eyes looked at him as if he were already the hero he dreamed of being.

"You're better than you think, Sebek. Your love... is real. You can't mistake it for anything else. It's like dark chocolate—unexpected, but unforgettable."

He bowed his head, exhaled loudly—and then, for the first time, dared—cautiously, as if touching a sacred object—to take her hand.

"You have filled my life with new meaning. Now I want to be not only a knight for the Young Master... but also your support. Your shield. Your noisy foolishness, if necessary."

She squeezed his fingers tighter. The warmth of her palm spread through his veins like vital energy. At that moment, he didn't need to speak loudly. His heart spoke for him.

And the rain outside the windows still whispered its melody, telling that love, even the strongest, can be gentle. Like chocolate, warming from within. Like a person who might shout to the whole world, but is ready to fall silent for one—the one who has become his quiet harbor.

[jayrrow]

Call me any time (implied Kate/Yelena)

on ao3

word count: 1,7k

warnings: none (except not proof read. in my case that's a legit warning.)

relationships: Kate/Yelena (implied or pre-relationship, however you wish to interpret it!), Thunderbolts team & Yelena

summary: After the recent events, there is only one person Yelena is waiting to hear from. The Thunderbolts wonder who this mysterious person is.

A/N: guess who just saw thunderbolts 🫠🫠 this came to me in a dream and i HAD to write it. i don't normally post ff on this account but i decided to go fuck it and do it this once. there's also potential for part two (and three) in case anyone's interested.

THERE IS NO ACTUAL BISHOVA IN THIS! you can imagine this as a post-credit scene only written for the sake of getting a Kate mention in.

no thunderbolts spoilers (i think) but beware anyway! i tried making it vague.

It has been hours. Yelena staring at the phone laying on the table in front of her as if it would turn into a flying snake at any second, each of the members of their little posse trying to coax her out of it.

First was Alexei, who attempted to psyche Yelena out of it by boring her with an elaborate story. No reaction.

Then went Walker, and to no one's surprise his idea of poking Yelena was not a good one. He ended up with a dislocated shoulder and a bruised cheek that would not heal so fast even with his enhancements.

Bob was the third in the line. His tactic was to offer a trip to ice cream. Work it did not, but it did get Yelena to mutter "ice cream is for children" under her breath. That was progress from the silence, at least.

Bucky only happened to walk in at the wrong moment. He was only supposed to drop by for a file he'd left laying around somewhere, but that didn't end as planned. Two seconds and twenty-two milliseconds after he stepped out of the Watchtower elevator, his non-metal arm was being held hostage in the loving hands of the Red Guardian.

So Bucky's attempt went just about like this: he sat on the small two-seater couch next to Yelena and mirrored her pose by leaning his arms on his knees and head on his fists. Yelena moved for the first time after her surprise attack on Walker, only to scoot over to the far end of the couch. Bucky then gave up and went to get his file. He didn't leave though—he had to see how this would end.

Their last resort was calling in the missing member. It took quite a while since Ava was not so keen on answering a phone call from any of them on her one (1) day off in the entirety of their post-void chaos. Eventually she did pick up after Alexei sent her about a dozen "URGENT" messages.

It took Ava approximately fifteen minutes, nine seconds, and sixty-four milliseconds to arrive at the scene. Her first reaction was to laugh.

"Has she even blinked?" she asks between the cackles, standing in front of the couch and the table and the phone Yelena is still staring at.

Alexei shakes his head, Bob looks awfully guilty, Bucky shrugs and takes a sip of the drink he'd somehow acquired from the fully destroyed bar. Walker, ever the wise one to actually respond, sighs exasperatedly and lifts his arms: "It has been going on like this for hours! None of us could do anything."

Ava has finally gotten herself together and hums. "Well, you've seen better days," she gestures to the guy's cheek and his right arm he's still holding at an odd angle, "but seriously, a whole team of 'professionals' and none of you could even get an explanation out of her?"

There's awful silence that meets her words so Ava simply plops down on the couch opposite to Yelena's. It's uncomfortable, and they should really invest in new ones, she decides quickly.

"Yelena? What's up?" Ava asks. Not in a pitying way, not in a worried tone like the others. Just as if she was asking on a regular day and having a regular conversation, she takes on a slightly bored tone with an undertone of respect. She knows it's going to work.

Yelena opens her mouth presumably to respond but before she can get any words out, the phone rings, finally.

There's no caller ID, only two emojis: a purple heart and a bow. That's all they get to see before Yelena snatches the phone lightning-fast. She waits a few seconds not to seem too eager and then swipes the button to pick up the call.

The voice from the other end isn't particularly loud, only frantic, but the three supersoldiers standing around like confused puppies hear it as well as any.

"Yelena! Oh my god, hi. I saw you on the news and I thought, wow, I gotta check up on you because that was-"

"Kate Bishop," Yelena tries to interrupt. She starts walking towards the separate room at the back of the open floor space.

"-insane. I mean, you're an Avenger now? I thought you'd never follow after, you know, all that stuff with your sister and-"

"Kate," the use of only her first name makes the recipient shut up, "Were or are you in New York?"

With that, Yelena slams the door shut behind her.

It's quiet—eerily so.

Bucky squints his eyes at nothing in particular, trying to figure out why the name seemed so familiar. Alexei scratches his head with so much hurt and confusion it almost looks sad. Bob has seemingly given up and returned to his own little reading nook in front of the giant glass windows. Walker looks bothered, but doesn't he always. Ava is still seated on the couch, processing what the hell just happened.

And just as quickly as it went silent, everyone is suddenly yelling all over each other.

"Who's Kate Bishop?"

"Do we know her? Does Yelena know her?"

"Yelena has not told anything about this!"

"I think I've heard that name before somewhere..."

Without realizing, they've all gathered into a circle in the middle of the room—Bob included—talking with no actual conversation. It's Bucky who breaks them up and lifts his hand to silence the chatter. It works a little too well and he looks slightly embarrassed about it.

"Okay, so let's start with what we know about Yelena's friends," he begins, taking on a leading role like it's for a life saving mission.

Alexei's laugh booms in the room. "She does not have any, except for us," he says.

"That you know of," Ava mutters. "It's not like you've exactly kept in touch or anything."

Alexei blisters at that, ready to start a full-blown argument before he's rudely interrupted.

"I think this Kate could be from a secret organization that Yelena works for and is going to turn it against us. That's why she couldn't tell us," Walker says and puffs his chest confidently as if he'd just figured out the answer to the meaning of life.

"Oh my god," Bucky scoffs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "No, Yelena's not working against us, idiot. Besides, I swear I've heard Sam talk about some Kate before. I just don't remember when or what context it was in."

"Could she be... her girlfriend?" Bob pipes up quietly. He looks contemplating, mouth slightly pursed and eyes focused. "I mean, I wouldn't go telling people I've just met that I'm dating someone."

"Lena would have told me," Alexei defends immediately. "What if I just search up this Kate Bishop person and-"

"No!" comes an unified cry from everyone around him.

"What? It would solve all this," Alexei scoffs and gestures vaguely with his hands.

"That would violate Yelena's privacy. I'm sure she'll tell us when or if she wants to," Ava says slowly like she's talking to a toddler.

Alexei hums in response, obviously still unhappy. He lets himself fall backwards and drops on the small, black, leather couch. "I guess we will have to just wait."

Ava follows suit, sinking into the spot Yelena had previously vacated on the couch opposite of Alexei. It's still slightly warm.

Bob shrugs and picks up his book again, only not returning to his original spot but sitting next to Ava instead.

Bucky opens the file still in his hand and tries to pretend to read it while conspicuously glancing at the door that had been closed only moments ago.

Walker opts to just pace around the floor in circles that form a meaningless pattern.

The quiet and attempting to look like they're not all trying to listen drags on for a long moment before the handle of the door finally clicks.

All heads are immediately turned to Yelena who stands there like a deer in headlights, phone still in hand.

"What? Was I not allowed to answer a call?" she asks defensively, holding her arms up.

"Who's Kate Bishop?" Ava, Alexei and Walker ask at the same time.

Yelena shakes her head. "No one."

"Well it had to be someone for you to wait in front of your phone for hours and then run off like someone's life was on the line," Ava points out with her arms crossed over her chest.

Yelena groans dramatically. "Ugh, this is why I do not do teams," she spits out with no real malice.

"Is it one of the kid Avengers?" Bucky guesses, and Yelena turns to look at him with well concealed surprise—if Bucky wasn't a spy, that is.

"Kate Bishop is not a child, nor is she yet an Avenger as far as I know," Yelena replies. She sounds like she definitely does not want to be a part of this conversation.

"Then who or what is she?" Bob asks, having finally put his book down.

Yelena takes a few deep breaths, analyzing all the accusing stares. "She is the protege of Clint Barton. I tried to kill Clint Barton and had to face her in the process. That is all you need to know," she says with a clipped tone.

"Wait, Clint?" Bucky stands up and looks at Yelena questioningly. "Why would you try to kill Clint?"

"Bucky, I was and still technically am an assassin. I was hired to go after him," Yelena looks at him pointedly. He nods and mumbles that it kind of makes sense.

"So you are friends with this Kate Bishop, yes?" Alexei asks, a slight hurt evident in his voice. He had been living under the impression that he knew all about his daughter, after all.

Yelena stays quiet for a few seconds that feel like an eternity. They're all expecting a sarcastic remark or a change of topic to brush it off completely.

"Yes, I am," Yelena finally says, voice calm and lacking any significant emotion. Damn spy training. "She is my friend," she repeats in a weird tone like it's the first time she's said it out loud. (Or like she doesn’t exactly mean it, but no one really pays attention to that.)

There are no judging eyes or comments like Yelena expected, only slightly surprised silence. She then clears her throat and announces:

"I am going on a trip to Iowa. Do not expect me in at least a few days, maybe a week or two."

And before anyone can even think about responding with how stunned to silence they are, Yelena is in the elevator and on her way down.

"...What's in Iowa?" Ava asks, looking around at the rest of them like they'd know any better.

find part two here

[jeonjayykkayy]

𝐎𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 I 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

 —If I Can't Have You—

Pairing:

Jeon Jungkook × Female Reader (Y/N) Mentions of Y/N × Jaehyun (past relationship)

Genre:

Dark Romance

Psychological Thriller

Horror

Obsession

Word Count: ~2.5k

Summary:

After a long-haul flight, Y/N returns to the arms of her boyfriend Jaehyun, a charming and successful surgeon. Their love feels safe — ordinary, even — until a silent presence begins stalking from the shadows. A stranger who’s been watching for far too long. When one night turns into a bloodbath, Y/N wakes up somewhere unfamiliar, trapped by a man who believes she belongs to him. And he’ll make sure no one else ever touches her again.

Because if he can’t have her... No one can.

🚨 Warnings:

Extreme Violence / Murder

Blood & Gore (including dismemberment, body horror)

Non-consensual captivity

Obsessive behavior / Stalking

Psychological manipulation and terror

Sexual assault implication / threat (non-explicit but heavily implied)

Strong language / Disturbing imagery

Death of a major character (Jaehyun)

🔞 This story contains dark and triggering themes. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

The terminal doors slid open with a hiss, releasing a wave of late-night exhaustion into the soft glow of Seoul's city lights. Y/N stepped out first — suitcase in one hand, phone in the other, hair slightly tousled from the long-haul flight she'd just completed. The navy-blue flight attendant uniform hugged her figure neatly, the signature scarf loose around her neck. She blinked up at the sky — black velvet with a few stars daring to show themselves between the buildings.

Another day, another city, another safe landing.

But the moment her heels hit the concrete, her lips curled into something softer—something only one man in the world could pull from her.

Jaehyun.

He was leaning against his sleek black car, dressed down in a long camel coat and slacks, hands in his pockets, his surgeon badge still hanging half-hidden from the inside of his coat. His features were calm, refined, like he had just stepped out of a luxury magazine — all except for his eyes, which lit up like a boy seeing the girl of his dreams for the first time again.

She didn't run. She didn't have to. He was already walking toward her.

"You look tired," he said gently, voice low and warm like a fireplace. "Still pretty, though."

She dropped her suitcase and smiled, the kind of smile that came from knowing someone loved you completely.

"I hate night flights," she whispered, reaching for him.

He wrapped his arms around her, not caring about the people coming and going. His lips found hers without hesitation — soft at first, then deeper, more familiar. She leaned into it, her hands tangled into the front of his coat like she was trying to pull the stress of the day out through him.

And far away, hidden behind the tinted windows of a parked van — someone watched.

The camera clicked once. No flash. No sound. Just a mechanical blink as the lens zoomed in to catch the moment her lips parted.

Jaehyun's apartment smelled like cedar and fresh linen — clean, precise, minimal. Much like the man who owned it.

Y/N padded through the living room barefoot, his sweatshirt hanging loose around her thighs. Her hair was still damp from the shower, dripping a little on the hardwood floors, but she didn't care.

Jaehyun stood in the kitchen, chopping something. Pasta night.

"You always cook when I get home," she called out softly.

He glanced back with a half-smile. "Only when I miss you."

"You must be eating pasta every night, then."

He chuckled, eyes narrowing. "Don't flatter yourself."

She walked over and looped her arms around his waist from behind, resting her cheek against his back. His heartbeat was calm. Reassuring. The world felt small in moments like this — like nothing outside of this kitchen mattered.

But outside — someone else watched.

Through the apartment across the street. Third floor. Lights off. The curtain cracked.

He had memorised their routine. Every touch. Every laugh. Every time Jaehyun kissed her temple. Every time she smiled, like he deserved it.

It made his fingers curl tightly around the camera. The lens trembled, not from cold — from the slow, creeping burn of hatred and want.

The city lights streamed through the blinds in soft stripes, casting silver shadows across the bedroom walls. Y/N lay curled on Jaehyun's chest, his fingers running mindlessly through her hair. The comforter was kicked down to their waists, the air thick with warmth and the kind of silence that comes only after being loved and held for hours.

"You know," Jaehyun murmured, his voice slightly hoarse from sleep, "I've been thinking about us."

She shifted a little, lifting her chin to look up at him. "Yeah?"

He smiled gently. "I want us to move in together. For real this time. No more late-night goodbyes."

Y/N's eyes softened. "You serious?"

"As a heart attack," he said, then laughed lightly. "Okay—bad metaphor, considering my job."

She laughed too, then pressed a small kiss to his chest. "I'd like that… Jaehyun, I really would."

Outside the window, across the street, the cracked curtain was closed now. The man wasn't watching from there anymore.

He was closer.

He was already at the door.

The sudden ring of the doorbell made them both flinch.

Y/N frowned, propping herself up. "It's almost midnight. Who…?"

Jaehyun sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Probably delivery or a neighbour. I'll check."

"Want me to come—?"

"Nah," he said, pulling on his t-shirt. "Stay in bed. I'll be a second."

Y/N nodded and settled back into the pillows, staring at the ceiling. But something about the silence that followed made her chest feel tight. No greeting. No words. Not even footsteps returning.

Just silence.

Cold, swallowing silence.

She waited. Five seconds. Ten.

"Jaehyun?" she called out, sitting up. No answer.

She pulled the comforter around her, got up, and padded barefoot through the hallway, the wood cool against her skin.

"Babe?"

As she neared the living room, she saw it.

The blood.

A long, thick smear across the hardwood floor. Dark. Wet.

And a man.

A man dressed in black, dragging Jaehyun's body by one leg — limp, arms trailing uselessly behind, face bloodied and swollen. His shirt was torn, his chest unmoving.

Y/N's scream tore through the apartment like thunder — raw, unfiltered terror. She stumbled backwards, grabbing at the wall, her voice hoarse from the shriek.

The man turned.

She saw his eyes — not Jaehyun's. Not familiar.

A stranger's.

He lunged.

Her scream was choked off as a rough, gloved hand clamped over her mouth. She kicked, scratched, bit — anything to get free — but he was stronger, faster, and didn't hesitate.

From his coat, he pulled a syringe. The sharp glint of the needle was the last thing she saw before it jabbed into her neck.

Her vision blurred. Her legs folded beneath her.

The last sound she heard before falling into darkness… was laughter.

Low. Cruel.

Amused.

Her head felt like it had been split in two — heavy, throbbing, and barely attached to her shoulders. Y/N blinked once. Twice. The light above her was dim, swaying slightly. A single yellow bulb. Faint. Cold. Her hands refused to move — something bit into her wrists, and she realised they were tied to a headboard with thick leather straps.

She was in bed. Not her own. Not Jaehyun's.

This room was… wrong.

The air smelled metallic—sharp, like rust and wet pennies. The walls were dark concrete. There were no windows. The sheets beneath her were too soft, like they belonged to someone who enjoyed pretending this was home.

Her eyes scanned slowly.

A shadow moved in the corner of the room.

"You're awake," a voice said — smooth, young, low.

Y/N's throat burned as she whispered, "Who are you…?"

Footsteps.

The man emerged into the light slowly, like he'd been savouring this moment. His face was familiar — agonizingly so. She had seen him somewhere. Airport? Hotel? A passing face. Too ordinary to notice. Too deliberate to forget.

Jeon Jungkook.

A name she didn't know. A man who had been watching her far longer than she realised.

"You probably don't remember me," he said softly, pulling a chair close to the bed. "But I remember everything about you. The first time I saw you. The way your hair looked in that navy-blue uniform. The way you smiled at him like he was everything."

He reached up and ran a gloved finger down her cheek.

"You don't look at me like that," he said with a pout. "But you will."

Y/N jerked her head away, face twisting in horror. "Where is Jaehyun?"

His lips curved. "Oh, sweetheart. You should be asking what is left of him."

She struggled violently against the restraints, breath hitching in her throat. "Let me go! Let me go, please!"

"I brought you something," he said calmly, ignoring her screams.

He reached behind him — and then turned, carrying a silver tray.

She didn't understand what she was looking at. Not at first.

But then he set it on the nightstand beside her.

Two eyes.

Human.

Wet. Open. Lifeless.

"Do you know what these are?" Jungkook asked, tilting his head like he was offering her dessert.

She sobbed, shaking her head, bile rising in her throat.

"These," he whispered, "are the eyes that looked at you. Touched you with just a stare. Right now… they're nothing. Lifeless. Just meat."

Y/N screamed.

She thrashed, twisted, and tried to pull her hands free until her wrists bled.

He grabbed her face in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Don't turn away. You need to see it. That man touched what belongs to me."

She choked, voice trembling. "W-Where's the rest…?"

He smiled. A slow, devilish thing.

"Oh, baby," he whispered. "I cut it off."

Her breath caught.

"I peeled his skin off and fed it to my pets. His fingers, too. Do you want to see?"

She shook her head violently. "N-No—please!"

He laughed, stood, and walked to the other side of the room. Behind a sliding door of steel, there was a small freezer. He opened it. She couldn't see what was inside, but the sound — wet sloshing, plastic bags, the quiet hum of refrigeration — made her stomach turn.

"Maybe later," he said casually. "You're not ready."

He turned back to her, eyes dark and wild now.

Then, without a word, he reached for the zipper of her dress shirt — the one she wore under the uniform jacket, now stained with tears and sweat.

She struggled, screamed again. Her arms were tied, legs trapped under his weight as he straddled her.

"Don't fight me," he whispered into her ear. "I've waited so long."

His hand unbuttoned her shirt, exposing her skin to the cold air of the room.

He smiled at her fear.

And began to undress her slowly.

She screamed again, struggling to escape his grasp, but he maintained his hold. Tears streamed down her face as he kissed her jaw, each touch bruising her skin and filling her with revulsion.

She attempted to turn her head away, but he prevented her, his kisses moving from her jaw to her neck and then to her collarbone, leaving a trail of bruises and marks that disgusted her.

He then sucked, kissed, and nibbled on her collarbone. His attentions then shifted from her collarbone to her chest, where he sucked on one breast while caressing the other, leaving marks on both her breasts and the valley between them.

He withdrew briefly before removing his own clothing. All the while, she pleaded with him to stop, begging and struggling. He then removed her pants and panties, caressing her inner thigh and vagina as she cried out, continuing to beg him to desist.

He forced his fingers into her vagina, causing her to scream, tears streaming down her face as she gasped for air and struggled against him as he moved his fingers harder and faster.

He then withdrew his fingers and instead positioned himself to penetrate her, forcing his length inside her, tearing her insides as she screamed and again begged him to stop.

He ignored her pleas, seemingly deaf to her cries. He was consumed by his own pleasure, oblivious to her tears, her desperate pleas, her attempts to escape the restraints, and her struggles beneath him.

He eventually ejaculated, breathing heavily. Meanwhile, she became blank and numb, beyond begging or struggling, too exhausted to resist any further, resigned to the completion of the act.

The air was too still. Not a single breeze, not even the distant hum of life beyond the four walls. Just silence.

Her body was cold against the mattress, but her skin burned where his touch had lingered. Her breath hitched and trembled, quiet sobs escaping her lips like broken promises.

Her eyes were wide open, staring at nothing. The ceiling offered no comfort. The room, no escape.

The shirt was gone. Her body was bare, her soul stripped even more. She didn’t know when she’d stopped crying out loud. Now it was just silent pain, leaking from her eyes, soaking into the pillow beneath her cheek.

A shadow shifted beside her. The bed dipped gently. She didn't flinch—she was too far gone. His fingers touched her cheek, feather-light. Gentle. Wrong.

"You smiled at that old man who helped you lift your suitcase in the terminal," Jungkook’s voice came, low, steady, like he was reminiscing about a dream. "At the woman who spilt coffee near your gate. At every goddamn stranger."

His thumb brushed a tear from her cheek as if it hurt him to see it.

"But not at me. Never me."

She blinked slowly, breath catching. Her lips trembled, but she said nothing.

Jungkook leaned closer, the scent of his skin surrounding her — warm, suffocating. His lips pressed to her temple, soft, lingering.

"I watched you," he whispered. "At hotels. Airports. That day at the lounge… You were with Jaehyun. Laughing. Looking so happy."

Her chest ached not just from the pain, but from the weight of his words. She wanted to scream, but even her voice had abandoned her.

"I kept wondering," he murmured, his hand resting on her hair. "Why him? What did he do that I didn’t? What did he have that I could never give you?"

He kissed her again, near the edge of her brow.

"I love you, Y/N," he said, like a confession. Like a vow.

Her fingers curled into the sheets. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t push him away.

"You're the first," he breathed. "And you'll be the last. I don’t care if I burn for you. I don’t care if this world ends tomorrow."

His hand slid to cup her face. She didn’t meet his eyes.

"If you told me to leave," his voice cracked, just a little. "If you begged me to go away… I’d cry. I swear I would. And if you ever left me, Y/N…"

A pause. A breath.

"I’d die."

Then he pressed his lips to her forehead — not a kiss of love, but of possession.

"I don’t need your love. I just need you. And if you fight me, I’ll break you so completely, you’ll never know who you are without me."

He whispered darkly yet passionately of wanting, loving and breaking her all at once.

She closed her eyes, not because she wanted to — but because it was the only escape left.

And the room remained silent. As if even time itself refused to witness what had just been done.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

[spotaus]

New Age AU (Bad Dreams)

Woah!! Bet you guys weren't expecting this one!!! (<- no but fr Idk if this one was even a drabble I mentioned wanting to do to anyone besides Ancha lmao-)

Regardless, here's a drabble that takes place a few months after Dream's exile!

(Hello @ancha-aus @papiliovolens and @mutzelputz !!!)

It was quiet.

So dreadfully quiet.

The stone walls felt suffocating, and the darkness was too overwhelming. Even the light of his own magic wasn't enough to ward off the sickly feeling crawling up his spine and over his shoulders.

Roaving like clammy hands, clinging to his bones and threatening to drag him away.

He couldn't take this anymore.

It took effort, one hand over the other, eyes on the rest of the room he'd been placed in for now. One bed instead of two. His legs felt like jelly as he tugged them over the edge.

His feet landed in his sandals not a moment later, and he shoved away from the soft mattress which felt nothing like his own.

Hid eyelights lingered on the bottom of the frame. The shadow there, not reached by the little orb of emotion which hovered beside him, providing light to the barren room.

Perhaps, he feared something would crawl out of those shadows. Tendrils. Pointed and waving. Grasping. Creeping along the floor.

He took a shaking breath.

Another.

He had to at least be able to breathe.

Dream's legs carried him unceremoniously to one of the chairs located in the room where he'd abandoned his cloak.

It was too big on him, the gold and yellow meant for the form the prophecy would have provided him with. He'd taken it with him anyways.

He tugged it over his shoulders, abd the heavy weight smothered him. In a way, it warded off that chill. Just enough to give him the courage to hurry to the door and slip outside.

The hall felt colder than the room.

And almost quieter.

It was nothing like home. With servants and guards bustling about at all hours. With the gentle hum of his mother's magic pulsing through the walls. With his brother's-

No.

He couldn't think about that now.

He padded along through the empty halls. He still shook, but the longer he was in motion the more momentum he gained.

Dream moved swiftly through these unfamiliar and unfriendly halls, until he arrived at a familiar door.

A servant entrance, which he had only noticed because he'd heard horses somewhere beyond as it briefly opened during his first tour. He hated to use it, but he knew guards would be at the main exits.

So, carefully, he entered the space which held it.

A kitchen, of sorts. Piled high with the dishes yet to be cleaned, and with food stores which would last an army a century, tucked away into every shelf.

A part of him wondered what they even did with so much hidden away, but to be honest, he didn't care enough.

He pushed through the door with little effort, and felt a sense of relief rush over him as his sandals landed in damp, earthy grass.

A glance down revealed it had been stamped over hundreds of times by weary servants, so it was flat and lame, but he didn't let that bother him much. He was outside again.

Dream had been feeling suffocated in that stupid building. Out here it felt like that horrid shadow, haunting him, knew not to tread too closely in his wake.

The wind tugged at his overly-large cloak as he stood there a moment. The door swung shut behind him.

The sky, the stars, he felt like he was saying hello to an old friend met in a distant place.

Only a moment later he shook his skull free of his momentary relief. He had to keep moving. Had to do this now.

His eyelights skimmed the dark, and he extinguished his orb. The moon was more than bright enough to illuminate the place he was searching for.

The stables.

As he traversed the open lawn, he noticed. It too was different from the one he knew so well. It was smaller, and had closed outer walls. The doors were huge, and seemed to swing out like any other door. It would not slide like his own used to.

As he reached the entrance, he gently tugged it open. It gave way easily, and he slipped in, expecting to be plunged into the darkness of yet another enclosed building.

Yet... inside it seemed only a bit more shadowed.

The stalls were largely swathed in darkness, but a thin strip of light illuminated the alley between each part of the stalls. There was a skylight above, open air, that was letting the moonlight filter down.

The way it fell, it might's been just past midnight.

Dream moved forward, carefully and quietly. He didn't want to startle the horses. Most of them seemed to be resting just like the rest of the castle. Last thing he needed was to startle one of them.

While he needed to find one awake to keep going, maybe it was better that he not find one. Maybe...

Nope.

Fate must adore him.

There, a few stalls ahead, a movement. Through the space, a horse's head suspended from its thick neck extended majestically into the moonlight nearing its stall.

It seemed to shift, to get a look at him, before settling.

Dream was gentle in his approach, but fast. His hands were shaking now as he approached the horse.

A beautiful, clean white. Little freckles of blond dotting its muzzle and forehead. It was gorgeous.

It stayed still as Dream came close and reached out his hands. They trembled, and he wished he'd worn his gloved. He hated to see his bare bones in the moonlight.

The horse softly nuzzle its nose into his hand.

And sneezed.

Dream squeaked in surprise, recoiling away a bit. He tried to stay calm, if only to keep the horse from panicking, but it just snorted as it stared at him.

Of course he'd get horse-snot on his bare hands, and-

"Excuse you, miss." Came a playful, full voice.

Dream, this time, was less calm.

Why was there a voice? Who was down here?

His emotions must've broadcasted. As he stepped backwards into the moonbeam, the mare whinnied and realed back nervously, and there was a hum of surprise from within the stall.

Frozen in place, he watched as a faint movement, aside from the large shadow of the horse, rose from inside the stall.

Glowing.

Eyes turned to him. Eyelights, like his, a wide and curious sky blue.

And then they drew closer, and where the mare once extended her neck to him, now stood a monster he starkly recognized.

"Oh, Prince Dream?" It was Blue, the squire of the knight who'd been assigned to watch over Dream, "What a surprise! I wasn't expecting to find anyone else up so late, is there anything I can do to assist you?"

Blue was smiling. Dream could taste it. His confusion, which was quickly overtaken by a general joy.

The skeleton wasn't dressed down at all, despite presumably having been knelt in a horse's pen for some reason. His squires armor, largely padded and cloth, hung well on his frame, and part of Dream wished he could see more that just the Knight's arms and shoulders peeking over the stall door along with his skull.

"I- I wasn't expecting anyone to be up tonight either." He replied, dumbly, "I was- was just taking a stroll. Couldn't sleep."

It was a weak excuse. An excuse literally anyone could see through-

"Ah, I see!" Blue's voice cut off his thoughts before they could run away, "You know, you should really try the tea that my master drinks before bed. It always knocks him out, cold turkey!"

Dream was... bewildered.

Blue turned away from him for a moment, disappearing into the shadows of the stall, but his voice did not hesitate.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind sparing a bit for you, Prince Dream! After all, it's our job as knights and knights-to-be to care for our benefactors!"

Dream could hear a bit of movement behind his words, and a few moments later Blue returned to the front of the stall. He used one arm to support himself as he hopped over the small gate, the mare trailing in his wake to watch once again.

He seemed entirely unphased, carrying tools in his other hand, moving to a hanging leather bag hung on a nail in one of the support beams and dumping the items inside.

"If you like, I could escort you back inside and make you a cup?"

Blue was still speaking, with little hesitation.

Dream felt like the squires voice was rattling around in his skull. An overwhelming amount of sound for the quiet he'd just arrived from, and quite different from the sounds he'd been searching for.

Like the chirping of bugs, the sounds of rustling leaves, the pounding of a horse's hooves heavy on the ground as he made his daring escape from this place he did not know.

"Ah, Prince! It seems Marigold managed to get you a bit dirty, I apologize on her behalf!" Blue was a lot closer. "Please, allow me!"

A lot closer.

Dream flinched as he felt soft, worn gloves cup his palms from underneath.

His focus had been far off, elsewhere, but now he watched as the skeleton a bit shorter than him gently used a clean rag he must've grabbed to towel away the remnants of the horse's gunk left on his hands.

Blue was entirely focused on his task, and Dream felt entranced by the action. It felt like his non-existant gut was attempting to mimic a writhing snake.

When Blue finally seemed content, he hummed and grinned to himself.

Even through is thick gloves, Dream had been close enough. To taste it. There was not a single hint of malice lingering in this squires soul. He was so sweet. Unbearably so. He'd barely met any souls with such a pure slate of emotions laid bare.

"P-prince Dream?! Are you alright? I'm- I'm so sorry, did I grab your hands too hard?" Blue's voice once again dragged him back to reality.

A tinge of fear in the air, and the cold rapidly claiming his hands once again.

He looked away from his hands, now abandoned by the squire who'd been keeping them warm. He had backed up by a few paces, and had his head bowed, but Dream could still see his skull was tilted. An eyelight observing him.

Guilt.

Why...

Dream all at once pulled his hands up to his cheekbones. His freezing fingertips gently rimmed the bottom edge of his sockets, and all at once he understood.

He'd started crying. Like a weakling.

He knew this feeling all too well. The tears which used to come to him when Nightmare would be sent back to his own bed by their mother. When she found Night comforting him after a night terror. His aura was always so calming.

He hadn't had Night at all, lately. Maybe that was why he hadn't shed tears yet. Until tonight, of course.

"No- no. It's nothing you did." Dream hurried to say, though he hated his voice for warbling.

He tucked his hands tightly into his cloak, and took a single shaking breath.

And then stepped to the side, and sunk down against the stall gate of the mare named Marigold.

She didn't startle as the wood shifted under Dream's weight, and settled again against the tick hay coating the bottom of the stall.

In this moment, Dream didn't care how bad it smelled, or how dirty he was getting his perfect coronation cloak, or anything. He didn't care that his perfect white bones were digging into old, splintered wood, or that his cheekbones pressed to damp planks.

He didn't care about the squire who saw.

Dream knew he couldn't risk going back to the castle, sockets full of tears. Not like this. So he'd have to fry it out here and risk the squires rumor mill in the morning.

He sniffled as he let the cold sink into the thin silk cloth which covered his legs, closing his sockets miserably in the darkness.

He heard boot-steps, and sunk a bit lower into himself as they drew softly nearer.

Though, they stopped a short distance away, and the weight of the gate shifted again, as sonething denser leaned against it.

Marigold snorted in what Dream imagined was annoyance, and he heard her hooves disappear somewhere deeper into shadow.

.

It was silent as Dream let his tears flow. Shoulder dug into his cheek, folded in on himself like a sort of ragdoll. Sniffles were the only thing which broke that awkward quiet.

But this silence too, was deeply uncomfortable. It was as though his moments of peace were little more than ploys to administer more distress into his mind.

The moment he could no longer stand his self-imposed quiet, he shifted.

And squinted in the darkness.

And found that, just before him, was the side of that squire.

There, back pressed to the stall door, sat Blue. He wasn't looking at Dream. The prince noticed that in one hand he held hid signature weapon, that comically large Warhammer. His eyes seemed focused, skimming the stalls. Watching over Dream's form to the doors far from where he'd turned his back.

Was... was the squire watching over him?

Normally when he threw a tantrum like this, his sorrow would seep into the air around him. He was able to drive off all the servants and soldiers. Very few would linger. Struck by an intense misery.

"Squire Blue?" Dream's voice felt hoarse and wet, remnants of the emotion that had built up inside him.

The young man's eyelights darted to the side, to look at Dream as he was called.

This time he remained silent, his expression still focused.

Dream knew this was stupid, he- "Why did you stick around?" He asked. "It's your master's duty to babysit me, not yours."

It was true. Only the Knight had orders to watch over him. And Dream knew he didn't much like the job.

For that man, there was no honor in trailing a young monster like Dream. Even if he was the son of Nim, Dream was no longer a crown prince. He was exiled. An outcast.

The question seemed to linger in the air a moment, before Blue's browser furrowed.

"Well, I believe you are sad, and it must be a type of sadness which is very hard to fight away, as you are very strong." He spoke, though the chipper tone was something softer now. Encouraging? "So as you fought your battle, I wished to stay by your side and dissuade any enemies from the outside. I could not abandon you."

He said it as though Dream was really fighting something. Inside himself.

That wasn't it at all. He'd been running away from that thing biting at him. Clawing at his heels and clogging his throat. That made him want to run away and never come back.

"I-" Was he really going to do this? "I had a bad dream, Squire Blue."

He felt like a child, confessing to his nanny that he had broken a vase in the hall.

"My brother used to comfort me, from these terrors. But- but I cannot see him anymore. He-" He choked up again, "People are saying he was jealous of me, when he took the crown, but he wasn't. He was afraid. And he cast me out and exiled me to this place!"

If he weren't so focused on trying to contain his voice, he would've been impressed at how unmoving Blue's face remained, amongst the swarm of emotions breaking through Dream's thinly-kept barrier.

"He was afraid, and I am alone, and this I'd not how it should be! Someone, something, scared him into acting out and sending me away and- and here I am. Crying in a stable like a child due to a bad dream, hundreds of miles away from my twin!"

He threatened to curl in on himself again, but he stopped himself when he saw the way that Blue looked at him. Knowingly.

"You know, it is not nearly the same, but I too am separated from my brother." Blue spoke up. Though, he was smiling?

Dream hummed in confusion, tired from his confession.

"He's younger than me, stayed in our home village as part of the city guard. He's the coolest..." He sounded almost wistful, "When I chose to start my apprenticeship I was told I would have to move away, and live here." He lamented.

Dream hated to taste the bittersweet tang of melancholy wafting softly away from Blue.

"Don't... don't you miss him?" Dream muttered, "Don't you want to run away and be with him again?" That was what Dream would do.

Blue laughed gently, a charming little 'Mweh!' That warmed Dream's soul.

"Of course!" He admitted, "But, my brother was my biggest supporter, and if I don't become a knight, then my time away will have been for nothing."

A brother giving unwavering support. Like Nighty.

"It sounds like you treasure your brother, Prince Dream," Blue said, then, "Might I ask about what you think of him?"

Oh.

That's right.

Since he left, he'd only been piling negative atop negative about his brother, making an impossibly long list in his head.

"My brother..." Dream breathed, almost a whisper. "He was-" He stopped, "is the most devoted, kindest, gentlest soul I've ever known."

He couldn't help but think of when they were children. When they had first gotten their masks, and Nightmare had recieved the smooth, rounded owl face. He'd looked so adorable and kind, lavender eyelights wide with joy.

Dream remembered seeing the grin on his twin's face when he'd let Dream press the cold wood to his own face. No doubt it had been cuter on Nightmare.

"He's so smart... he loves reading, and his studies, and always knew how to help me when I'd make trouble in the castle."

The days when Dream was seven or eight, tripping around the halls at night, wet paint on his new shirt because he'd tripped and nudged a new mural his mother had commissioned. It had been wet.

Nightmare had found him and dragged him back to their room, where he'd pulled the shirt off of Dream and immediately set about cleaning it.

He said he'd watched their babysitter do it a hundred times and he'd learned. Dream had claimed the work was beneath them, but Nighty had shot back, asking if he'd rather be caught with stained clothes by the adults. That was the last thing he'd wanted, so he'd sat and watched Night scrub away at the stain in the tub with a few bottles of who knows what and water until it was practically brand-new. By morning it was dry, as though nothing had ever happened.

"And- and he always knew when I was sad. He'd come sit with me, and we'd hug and- and nothing came between us."

Until that day, of course.

That day when Dream was practicing his speech and Nightmare had rushed into the lounge to stand before him. Nightmare's skull had been sweaty, his eyelights pinpricks. He had a scroll clutched to his chest, and a hunch to his shoulders. He'd been afraid. Dream had tasted it like a sour lemon on his tongue, and had gone on high alert.

Only for Nightmare to start babbling to him. Stammering about the prophecy and a curse and some sort of discovery. A warning.

All that Dream had caught after asking him to slow down, was that Nightmare was begging him not to go through with his coronation ceremony. That he'd found a dire omen in the library about some sort of bloodshed. Some horrible price to pay.

Dream had tried to reassure him. That it was just a mean prank, that he and everyone else would be fine. Perfectly safe.

Nightmare had left the room dejected, practically in tears, and had rushed off. If Dream had known better, he would've gone and hammered it into his twin's skull that the prophecy was safe. That he didn't have to taint his own body to protect Dream from some make-believe threat.

Dream sighed a bit, and raised one hand to his face. He rubbed his palm along his sockets, swiping away magical residue from his tears.

He wasn't any less sad, but it felt less explosive.

"Your twin sounds very nice, Prince Dream. I do understand why you would like to see him again." Blue spoke softly.

His smile was boisterous again, and Dream couldn't help himself from allowing a gentle smile to worm onto his own expression.

"I cannot let you leave, that would not allow me to protect you, but if you wish to talk again, I am often an open ear!" He suggested, "You seem less sad after talking."

Hmm.

This might have been the first time in the history of his life, he realized, that he had someone his age really speak with him.

Blue was different from the noble children and the new guards and servants back home. It was something kind. Perhaps it was that he didn't truly understand just who Dream was. Who he was meant to be.

Maybe- maybe he'd like to keep it that way a bit longer.

"Trying to flee on horseback was a silly idea anyhow." He mused, "Would you be bothered if I still took your offer? For tea, that is?"

The joy that flooded through Blue was almost contagious, and he quickly popped up from where he'd been seated, letting his hammer shimmer away into the air beside him.

Then he turned to dream, and extended a gloved hand to him.

Dream took it after a moment, and he was swiftly tugged to his feet too, shaky as a newborn foal. Cold and damp and smelly.

But Blue didn't seem to notice, nor was he bothered. Not by the dirt that coated Dream's cloak or the smear of mud which had gotten onto his skull.

Blue escorted him back out to the grounds, and Dream saw my the moon that he'd hardly spent an hour in that stable. It was still plenty dark.

As the squire began to move towards the main path, Dream tugged his armor and guided him instead to the little servant door, and Drean was rewarded for his sneaky tactics with another 'Mweh!' of excitement.

Blue held the door, and Dream hurried into the kitchen. Then from there, Blue led them through servant corridors that Dream had never known existed. Blue was careful to check over his shoulder every few steps. Maybe he was worried about losing Dream in the twists and turns?

And then, as though hitting a brick wall, they found themselves in the private barracks of the knights of this realm. For a moment, Dream worried Blue might have to enter his master's room to snatched the tea, but...

There was a little alcove outside of one of the doors, carved into the wall.

'Personal effects' Blue had explained quietly, kept in the hall so servants might have easy access to each Knight's favorite drink or treat.

Dream watched curiously as the knight moved towards the space, and carefully extracted a few leaves from a little jar left outside.

"Will that be enough for two?" Dream muttered, perplexed. It seemed hardly enough for a mouse!

Blue glanced back to Dream in confusion, and the Prince realized he'd jumped the gun. Blue hadn't planned to have any tea, only brew it for Dream.

That... felt odd.

"Mm. Have you ever tried his tea, squire Blue?" He asked quietly instead.

Blue shook his head a bit, "No, I've never had the chance." He didn't seem bothered.

Dream only nodded, and the two hurried away. Out of the knight's wing, back through the servant halls, and into the kitchen where Dream had snuck out through the little door.

There, Blue closed the door to the hall, and after a moment, seemed content to begin moving all sorts of pots and pans to find a kettle.

Dream hadn't ever lingered in a kitchen very long. His babysitter only brought them inside once or twice, always upon Nightmare's request. The kitchen here was much smaller than his own, and was infinitely more cluttered. The organization, or lack there-of, made his hands itch.

It only took a few moments before he lifted himself up to sit atop one if the counters, away from where Blue seemed to be preparing the tea.

He moved with practice around this spot, it'd taken hardly any time at all for him to dig out the worn kettle, and it'd been tucked behind little bottles and containers of who knows what.

He seemed to work the stove just fine as well, the little flames dancing along with the little light their magic provoded to them.

Only when the kettle was set did Blue seem to glance around and spot Dream once again.

He moved a bit closer, leaning against the counter a bit.

"Prince Dream, may I ask a question?" He voiced.

Dream nodded curiously.

"Do you ever do sparring?" Blue asked, then.

That was... not what Dream had expected to be asked of him. He'd had people ask him many things, but never of that.

"I... used to." He said softly.

It was ever so slight, a raise in Blue's shoulders, some sort of little happiness sparking through him.

"I've seen you, stopping by when the knights train! What weapons do you use?" Blue asked then.

Dream suddenly had to find himself smothering the flush which threatened to flood his cheekbones. Yes, he did miss sparring, but often when he was frustrated he would pass by. To get a glimpse at the Knights in their armor, so swift and powerful.

"A bow." He said, maybe a bit too hastily. "I mean... I was formally trained in swordplay, staffs, and spears, but Archery has always come easiest to me."

He was so absorbed in his thought that he almost missed the way Blue's eyelights grew bigger. Almost.

Dream allowed a smirk to cross his face, and he held his hands out before him.

His little, pearly white, hands trembled. The joints glowed a soft golden color, and it all drew out, to his fingertips. After a moment, the glow condensed, and swirled, and tightly wove into a longbow.

The bow itself was a pale white, but much like his castle, it appeared to be made of old, twisting vines and branches.

"Where is the string?" Blue's curious tone asked, and Dream was only a bit startled to find the squire so close to him now, examining the weapon.

"It's only tangible in use with my magic." Dream explained softly.

Running a hand along the space, his finger caught, and a ripple of yellow glow moved down a thick, invisible string.

Impulsively, Dream imagined, Blue stuck his gloved hand right into the space beneath where Dream had just touched. There was nothing for him to grasp.

"Wowie... that's an impressive weapon, Prince Dream! You are very skilled, that must've taken ages to craft!" Blue said, pulling his hand back as though nothing had happened.

Dream stared at it a moment, but caught himself before claiming it was an easy feat.

He'd made the bow itself no problem, but the string... they could never withhold the power of his magic. They would snap and send him reeling.

Once, a broken string had swung back and cracked against his chin. He'd bled, and all of the guard had panicked about his wellbeing. He'd been young still, and had been so startled he thought they were yelling at him. Not about him.

After that, mother had insisted he learn to channel his magic precisely. Learn to use it with an easy perfection.

"Yes, it took me some time to perfect." Dream agreed solemnly.

It seemed Blue was going to say something else, but there was a loud whistle from the stove, and the squire jolted and hurried back to tend to it.

Dream watched from afar, letting his bow disappear once more, as Blue seemed to ready a singular teacup.

Once it was finished, he carried both it, and the saucer, very carefully over to Dream's countertop perch. He offered it up to the prince, with a gentle warning of, 'hot'.

Dream took it carefully, and held it under his face. The warmth rising from it was comforting, and the smell was nice. Unfamiliar. And for once he enjoyed it.

Dream blew on the surface of the tea, making it ripple like some dark ocean, before he impatiently brought it to hid mouth.

It was hot, as Blue had warned, but not scalding. He held it in his jaw for a moment, lingering on the taste, before swallowing it down.

He took another sip. Then hummed.

"Squire Blue, will you take a sip of this? Tell me what you think?" He then offered the cup to Blue.

The squire seemed startled, but only for a moment before nodding in determination. He gently took the teacup from Dream, and tipped it so he too could take a sip.

Dream watched his face, and aa the heat subsided, Blue's expression scrunched. He seemed like he was trying to decide whether to spit it out or drink it.

The prince couldn't contain his laughter as it seemed Blue resigned himself to swallowing it. He held the cup back out to Dream in some sort of defeat.

"It's gross, isn't it?" Dream asked through his little fit of giggles. He cupped the tea back into his own hand, and watched as Blue seemed to try and outlast the awful taste surely lingering in his mouth.

"Y-yes, it is! I have never tasted something like that before, I apologize, Prince Dream." He said almost despairing.

Dream just shook his head, "No fault of yours! This appears to be some sort of black tea. Magical, probably." Dream explained, almost fond of the horrible cup of tea.

This was probably the first time he'd found such a thing funny.

If anything, his obvious joy at the situation seemed to let Blue relax a bit again.

Both of them had now experienced the horribly bitter taste of a Knight's favorite coffee, and now they were both complicit in deciding that it was nasty.

Dream let himself giggle again, and brought the cup back up to his mouth.

Almost like a shot, Dream downed the remainder of the liquid. Though it made him shudder a bit under its bitter flavor, the warmth did well to bring a heat to his ribs he hadn't had all night.

When he set the cup and saucer beside himself, he found Blue staring at him, as though he had something on his face.

(He did, it was mud, but Blue was not looking at it.)

"Prince, if it tastes bad, why would you finish it?" Blue asked in confusion.

Dream just shrugged a bit, "I think of the tea as a gift. Even if I do not enjoy it, it means something special to someone else, so it would be rude to waste it." He said simply.

Blue seemed to linger on that for a moment, before seeming to double-down on his concentrated expression. Then, all at once, he grinned.

"I know that you are a Prince, but I think that you would also make a very noble knight!" Blue asserted, before he scooped up the cup and set it aside on the counter.

He seemed to debate the sink, before noticing the piles of other dishes and simply sighed softly.

Dream popped away from the counter, landing on his feet with a tired yawn. His hand raised to cover the action, but Blue caught sight of it and burst into action, moving to Dream's side at an alarming efficiency.

"Prince Dream, if you are tired, then allow me to escort you back to your room!" He insisted.

Dream couldn't help but agree.

As they walked, a part of him wished that he could beg Blue to talk with him until the sunrise, and then stay up all over again the next night. He hadn't felt so comfortable in ages.

But, they had their places.

When the sun rose, Dream would have to be a proper prince again. Take a bath, send his robes to be cleaned, speak with the nobles here, try drafting another letter back home, and rot in the foreign place.

And Blue would have to go back to toting around that knight's swords and armor polish and make him that sickeningly bitter tea on command.

Dream wondered if Blue was even getting any real training, or if he was a glorified servant. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen the young man use his war hammer during training.

Though, all of these thoughts would have to wait.

The bland door to his room arrived, and Blue bowed and bid him farewell.

Dream entered the dark space for the second time that night, slipped off his sandals, and collapsed cloak and all onto his bed. Too exhausted to be afraid of dancing shadows.

[koipudding]

more on muse!kaiser bc I listened to "writing on the wall" again.

you're burnt out; every critique ends in scathing remarks from rich classmates and an aggravating professor. Enter Michael Kaiser; some no name kid who got into the school on an athletic scholarship, and is the model for your live drawing class. When you ask for him to pose for your next project, he immediately chews you out.

"talentless", "waste of time", etc. but you promise to help him with his coursework (because of course the two of you chose the same lab class and he hasn't shown up all semester, and has so many labs to make up).

and like. yeah. he sends you gym pics and post-shower ones for "inspiration" but he's teasing you.

also like. you know his schedule. he doesn't dare ask how you found out, but he finds it funny when his friends ask why there's a random guy following them, and glaring (Kaiser stood one foot away from where he usually does, and you almost missed him).

[blametheeditor]

“Here.”

Fritz looks up at David’s voice, jumping at the sight of the giant reaching for him. Despite the fact the business man has only ever held him once, it is an all too familiar sight, making the teenager simply tense instead of try to duck away.

He jolts in surprise when something is dropped at his feet. Stares at a human sized backpack sitting in front of him.

“To replace the one I cut the straps off of,” David rumbles, missing the way Fritz’s eyes grow wide as the giant turns to his phone. “Your parents haven’t already bought you a new one, have they?”

Actually, his parents didn’t even know his backpack is damaged. Fritz couldn’t think of a good way to explain why the straps were snipped by a giant pair of scissors, and he’s not exactly willing to admit he nearly got buried in a snowstorm a week ago.

But he doesn’t necessarily need a bag with straps, it still works! Even if it is a little awkward carrying it in his arms.

“Uh, no, they haven’t. B-But you didn’t need to-“

“There’s also a jacket inside to replace the one I cut as well.” David fixes him with a stare that sends a shiver down his spine. “A proper snow coat that I expect being worn whenever you so much as step a single foot outside.”

…really?

Fritz can’t help a bit of excitement as he carefully unzips the backpack before realizing it’s waterproof. He then lets a gasp of awe escape as he pulls out a puffy jacket that looks impossible to be soaked through and warm. And underneath it are gloves actually meant for the snow. And snow shoes.

No, this is too much, he can’t accept these. “Thank you, Mr. Harrison. But-“

“See you tonight,” the giant waves as he walks away, eyes locked on his phone. “And you have another thing coming if you think I’ll be carrying you home.”

Fritz looks down at the collection of items before him in disbelief. Finds a giant smile spreading across his face as he puts on the jacket, a sigh of relief as the last of the chill from being outside vanishes.

David wouldn’t mind helping him make one snowman, right?

[anominous-user]

it is so fascinating to me how ratio's character stories are all told from an outsider‘s POV and never his own

[carolinanadeau]

In Praise of Sally Ann Howes

As I've made it one of the purposes of my blog to share photos and songs and general positivity about the wonderful English actress Sally Ann Howes, I thought I'd make a post to talk in much more detail about all the great things about her and why I adore her so much!

This classy English beauty possessed a highly expressive face and eyes, an astonishingly powerful soprano, a great sense of humor, and the world's most charming laugh. One thing I cannot stop saying about Sally Ann is that she did not and does not get nearly enough credit and recognition for her immense talent and prolific career, and it's precisely for that reason that I'm here to do my part in giving it to her!

This overlong rambling post is a combination of biographical information and my personal fawning over her performances... whatever I felt I most wanted to put out there in the world and what I'd like people less familiar with her to know.

Click on Keep Reading and I'll take you on a journey!

As she preferred to work on the stage and didn't really pursue a film career, the catalog of Sally Ann's work that can still be viewed today is unfortunately small - though you can find almost all of her early films on the internet if you look hard! In her early film days, mostly made before she was able to pursue her true passion of musical theatre, her extraordinary singing talents weren't utilized by the producers at all.

However, we were fortunately blessed with exactly one musical film role from her, and it's an iconic one: the aptly-named role of Truly Scrumptious in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang (1968), the golden-haired, golden-hearted candy heiress who falls in love with and eventually marries Dick van Dyke's character Caractacus Potts after joining him and his children on a madcap adventure. She's a sweet, intelligent ingenue with hidden depths and one of my favorite sorts of character arcs - the uptight, lonely woman who becomes more and more warm and open as she discovers newfound freedom and joy in life and falls in love.

There is something about Sally Ann that just glows in every scene of Chitty, and it's not only that bright blonde hair! The way she widens her eyes sometimes, the way she raises her eyebrows, her gentle and soft presence in the happiest scenes, and the particular airy lilt she has to her speaking voice are all so distinctive and appealing, and I can't take my eyes off her. And her smile! When I say she glows it's barely even a metaphor, the woman just emits light. 

(Funnily enough, I started to realize that many of the laudatory quotes I've found about her also refer to her in this way, like this quote from a 1965 TV Guide article, from playwright Sidney Kingsley: "She's luminous as an actress. I mean that literally. In Brigadoon she really lit up the stage.")

For me, I'm weak for any actress who can do the defrosted-ice-queen trope so incredibly well. Truly starts out as closed-off and prim, and nearly reverts to that state when she and Caractacus have a Big Misunderstanding near the end, but in the scenes where she's happy and carefree, the warmth just radiates off of her.

She also has the most adorable chemistry with Dick van Dyke in an annoyances-to-friends-to-lovers relationship that absolutely shaped my young brain. Whenever Sally Ann and Dick glance at each other, whether with irritation and frustration early in the film or with warmth and affection later on, their chemistry is obvious and natural, and there's so much expressed in each one of those glances. One has no difficulty believing that these characters are going to be very happily married.

(Here's a cute on-set interview where she talks about, among other things, how easily she and van Dyke clicked.)

While I acknowledge that the character of Caractacus Potts was absolutely originally planned to be an actual Englishman, Dick van Dyke played him with an American accent, and to me they will always be an adorable English-American couple. It's a whole part of the charm of this pairing to me!

Sally Ann also had a great relationship with child actors Adrian Hall and Heather Ripley who played Jeremy and Jemima Potts, and did her best to help make them more comfortable and happy during the many very long days on set. Having been a child film star herself, she knew a great deal about how difficult and alienating it could be. The genuine affection the three of them shared is obvious in their scenes together, especially in the extremely adorable "Truly Scrumptious" number, and it really makes the developing mother-child relationship between the characters so believable.

The beach scene, where so much of the relationship between Truly and Caractacus and the Potts children is developed, is incredibly cute and heartwarming, and a lot of that rides on Sally Ann's performance and how her previously prim-and-proper character shows herself to be warm and loving, once she (literally) lets her hair down. We've already seen how happy the Potts family is together; now we see how Truly fits in perfectly and makes them all even happier.

Look at her! Literally glowing!

(One thing I should mention: I think both the plot and the love story of CCBB are greatly improved if one just treats the "dream sequence" as real events, which was possibly the original intention anyway, so just note that is always the perspective I'm coming from here. It's the only way to make some things make sense and for the characters and their relationships to fully develop.)

"Lovely, Lonely Man" is Truly's big solo moment, and was probably the least comprehensible part of the movie to me as a kid (lol), but is now indisputably one of the very best parts to me as an adult. It's an exquisitely beautiful love song, especially the bridge, and I somehow love it more and more every time I rewatch it. Sally Ann's dreamy, graceful movements and the way the whole scene is shot make her look like a princess, and the slow build of the song is masterfully done. She has this distinctive crisp way of articulating her words while singing, especially the closing consonants like N and M, that I just love to listen to. The string section and the building countermelodies are so beautiful it makes me want to weep. Everyone involved in creating this scene and song deserved an award, I'm being so serious. While it's not the highest of soprano songs and doesn't fully show off Sally Ann's astonishing range, she shows an incredible amount of vocal control here through the many diminuendos and crescendos, and she's mesmerizing to watch and listen to. One of her "glowiest" scenes, for sure!

While I've seen people call this song irrelevant to the plot, I strongly disagree - the romance is part of the plot, of course, and while I didn't fully understand the meaning as a kid, this song establishes how much Truly's outlook on life and hopes for the future have already changed since meeting Caractacus, and how much happier she is with the poor Potts family than she's ever been in her life of luxury. Plus, now we know for certain that she's head over heels for Caractacus, but he doesn't know... increasing the dramatic irony of the pining and yearning to follow!

In the reprise of "Hushabye Mountain", which was sung in a much earlier scene by Dick van Dyke alone, Caractacus loses the will to continue the song because he's overwhelmed with emotion thinking of his children being held captive. Truly comes in to aid him with the final verse - another pivotal moment in the developing romance - and Sally Ann's singing here is nothing short of breathtaking.

And of course, I can't neglect to mention the "Doll on a Music Box" number, where Sally Ann, who was not a trained dancer and in fact considered herself to be "appalling" at it, performs an incredibly precise, incredibly impressive clockwork song-and-dance number while on a spinning turntable! She practiced it so well that she managed to successfully complete the shot in a single take, prompting the stage full of extras to burst into applause.

This is another important character moment for Truly, though it's disguised in a diegetic performance: though it's another thing that went over my head as a child who only got to see the movie once, the lyrics about being trapped up on a music box and longing to be freed by love pretty clearly symbolize how trapped the real Truly's high-society life makes her feel, and how she yearns to break free from class restrictions and live happily-ever-after with Caractacus, as it's only with him and his family that she really feels free.

Then there's that incredibly warm romantic look that Truly and Caractacus share at the end of the song when she silently acknowledges the love confession he's just made while singing in counterpoint with her, though they're still in a dangerous situation and can't give themselves away by appearing too human and breaking their disguises... sadly this vital moment is cut off on all the Youtube videos of the scene I can find, because none of the people who clipped it understand that that's the whole point of it all, apparently. But here's a gif!

The character of Truly doesn't exist at all in the original (quite different) book by James Bond author Ian Fleming - surprising, I know, given her name! - and, honestly, the fact that Truly and the romantic subplot of this movie exist are why it had such a strong impact on me as a child, and very much why I fell in love with it again as an adult. Even though the score is wonderful anyway and the story is charming and magical, I can confidently say that I would not have become as completely enchanted or had such a strong desire to revisit it again and again if there'd been no Truly and no love story. The fact that Sally Ann's performance makes Truly so loveable is, obviously, a pretty crucial factor there.

Sally Ann's delivery of "Well, Mr. Potts... now you'll have to marry me!" after Caractacus kisses Truly... that slide from prim mock-outrage to the playful, warm, you-can-hear-the-smile-in her-voice conclusion is flawless. Not even exaggerating when I say that this was the moment that made me into a hopeless romantic as a 9-year-old child. Sure, this wasn't the first movie I'd seen where two people fall in love and live happily ever after, but I distinctly remember that this was the first romance story that had me in a giggling, kicking-my-feet, "I ship it so hard" state of mind. And after revisiting it as an adult for the first time last year, I have confirmed that yes, child me already had great taste in fictional romances!

Oh, I could say so much about the difference in her body language between the two scenes where Caractacus carries Truly out of her car that's become stuck in a pond. The first time, Truly is affronted and extremely embarrassed by the situation, holding herself so stiffly and awkwardly to avoid an accidental embrace that she causes him to nearly lose his balance and drop her. The second time, when they're in love and they know it, she snuggles right up into his arms without hesitation and it's the cutest thing ever. Sally Ann was 5'6" but looks so tiny in that scene!

(And that kiss! Maybe I'm getting off-topic here in terms of strictly focusing on Sally Ann's contributions, because Dick van Dyke deserves tons of credit for making this kiss so good... but wow, the kiss. Several times I have called it "the Most Kiss they could have gotten away with in a children's movie." Again, giggling, kicking my feet etc.)

While Truly's costumes and hairstyling are rarely historically accurate (the film is set around 1910), the stylized nature of her fashion is iconic and memorable in itself. Sally Ann also completely pulls off playing a fresh-faced ingenue who is 12+ years younger than her actual age - and I do wonder if the aging-down of Sally Ann is at least part of the reason why Truly wears her hair loose throughout most of the movie! Either way, it works perfectly and I was shocked when I first learned how much older she was than her character. (If you watch her in The Admirable Crichton, where she is also in Edwardian costume and was closer to Truly's actual age, she really doesn't look all that much different. If anything, I think she looks even more glowingly beautiful in Chitty!)

Also, as for Truly wearing her hair down... it may just have been an intentionally anachronistic stylistic choice, but in-story, I think it actually contributes to her character by showing a willingness to flout convention and pursue whatever will make her happy instead of what's expected of her, which happens to be a key theme of her character arc.

Another thing that led me to adore Sally Ann as a person as I learned more about her over the last year: in the 1960s, she appeared as a panelist in quite a few episodes of the game show To Tell the Truth (as well as a few episodes of Password), and these can be found on Youtube. I really adore how her personality shines through - she's unfailingly bubbly, witty, self-deprecating, and a bit quirky. Just listening to her speak is a delight and she has one of the best laughs I've ever heard. Here is one of my favorite little moments that I clipped. 

By all accounts, she was a delightful person to know and work with, witty and clever, very professional, and very serious about her craft. She also always maintained a great affection for and pride in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang and her role as Truly, which is always a wonderful thing to know about an actor in a beloved role.

Another bonus: here is a super charming interview with her after a backstage disaster at What Makes Sammy Run? on Broadway.

She was also, along with Twiggy and Diahann Carroll (as Julia Baker), one of the first three celebrities to have her likeness made into a Barbie doll.

Two of her earlier films I recommend are the comedies Fools Rush In (1949) and The Admirable Crichton (1957), if you can find them (hint-hint, you can.) You may also be able to find the 1966 TV movie of her reprising her Tony-nominated role of Fiona in Brigadoon with Robert Goulet, and although I feel like the oddly close-up way the film was shot kinda does a disservice to the actors at times, it's still amazing to be able to see and hear her in a role she performed on Broadway.

Richard Rodgers once called Sally Ann "the greatest singer who ever sang on the American musical stage." Now, I don't quote this to claim this superlative as some kind of objective fact. If you know anything about me, I am very, very strongly opposed to pitting women against each other and all the Golden Age sopranos are absolute queens who deserve crowns, no matter how much mainstream success or present-day name-recognition they have/had. I just think it's phenomenal that she received such high praise from a man who worked with many of the best musical theatre singers who ever lived... and to think, many people today have never even heard her voice. Without her performance as Truly Scrumptious, it's possible almost nobody would in the future! I am so glad that Sally Ann's lasting legacy was ensured by such a beloved film role.

Sadly for us, many of the theatrical roles which she originated (and thus, for which cast albums featuring her exist) were in shows that either flopped quickly or at least did not enter the theatrical canon, so she never achieved the level of mainstream recognition she clearly deserves. But Sally Ann also played such legendary and challenging roles as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, Fiona MacLaren in Brigadoon (for which she received a Tony nomination), Maria Rainer von Trapp in The Sound of Music, Anna Leonowens in The King and I, and, much later, Desiree Armfeldt in A Little Night Music. She received great acclaim for all of these performances and, judging by what we know of her process on My Fair Lady, was excellent at making roles distinctly her own and never merely imitating another performer.

Even in her iconic original role of Truly Scrumptious, you don't get to hear the true full power of Sally Ann's extraordinary soprano. For that, I highly recommend listening to "Another Time, Another Place" from Kwamina (1961), and "Something to Live For" from What Makes Sammy Run? (1964). I'm always sad that we don't have any recordings of her in her "fiery" star turn as Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady, but you can at least hear her do a Cockney accent, be silly, and sing "With a Little Bit of Luck" with Bing Crosby here!

If it weren't for the enduring success of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, few people might have even heard of Sally Ann Howes today, and that would be a terrible loss. I cannot overstate that I am so grateful that we all know who she is because she played this role and we get to see her give this radiant performance of a character that's all her own. Maybe this sounds strange, but I think the fact that this was Sally Ann's only musical film role (and the ONLY role most people will ever see her in) makes it even more precious, and makes everything she brings to the character that much more distinctive and unique and special.

Both for all of the talent and charm she brings to the role itself, and everything else that I and many other fans have been able to learn of so much of her otherwise-obscure work because of it, the world is incredibly lucky to have the lovely Sally Ann Howes immortalized as our Truly Scrumptious, and I wouldn't have it any other way 💖

[wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks]

Warning to anyone following me, i just started reading the first sleeping beauty book so there may be much uncritical anne rice posting to come

[fingertipsmp3]

Had THE funniest dream last night

[timey-fandom-stuff]

you ever have a dream so unbelievably cool that when you wake up you just about screech in rage that it ended too early...

[xemylixa]

#maybe something like going on a secret mission and halfway through realising that they need to get marries for their cover story to be #believable #so they do

Literally the premise of Journey to Kettari by Max Frei

This links to a wheel with nearly a hundred fic tropes for plots, settings, and more. Spin it twice.

This could also work with art inspiration, but the buttons only allow for so many characters on them. And please do ramble in the tags! I'm going to have no idea what most of you are talking about, and it's going to be great.

[bestfluteninja]

my roommate told me to stop thinking of myself as embarrassing for this and to be kinder to myself about it and she’s right but damn that thought pathway is well-worn

[midnightwind]

having to do a major overhaul of my blog's links because I Hate that I cannot figure out where in the code to center them so if I only have 6 they're more or less aligned nicely