#featuring some very distinguished gentlemen

[slaviclore]

Fauna stamps from Montenegro

[o-craven-canto]

Just found out about Sabir aka Lingua Franca Mediterranea, and it's so beautiful. The original Lingua Franca, namesake of all that would come, which developed in the Medieval Mediterranean as a combination of bare-bones Italian and Spanish mixed with all the languages of the sea for use of traders, pilgrims, travellers, slaves, pirates, and outlaws.

Key features of the lingua franca:

lack of distinction between singular and plural. Amigo means “the friend” as much as “friends.”

verbs use for the present, imperfect, and sometimes future a single infinitive and unconjugated form valid for all persons. Questi Signor star amigo di mi: these gentlemen are my friends

the imperative corresponds to the same infinitive form, but usually preceded by the pronoun

for the past tense, periphrastic forms such as mi estar andato (or andado, per influence of Spanish or Venetian dialect), in which estar is the most common auxiliary

adjectives distinguish masculine from feminine gender unless they end in -e (bono/bona, but prudente/prudente)

the future corresponds to a periphrastic form: bisogno mi andar (I need to go) “I will go.”

In interrogative sentences, the word order remains the same, and only the tone changes of voice, subject to the presence of interrogative pronouns to introduce the sentence, as in: cosa ti ablar? “what do you say?”

the vocabulary is a mixture of Italian, Spanish, and French, in many cases with multiple attested forms (bono/bueno, testa/cabeza)

-- https://weirditaly.com/2022/11/15/sabir-the-mediterranean-lingua-franca/

While it had different varieties... the most widespread and lasting one had a lexicon that was 65-70% Italian (with strong Venetian and Ligurian influences) and 10% Spanish, with words from other Mediterranean languages, such as Arabic, Catalan, Sardinian, Greek, Occitan, Sicilian, and Turkish. This auxiliary language connected European traders with Arabs and Turks; it was also spoken by slaves on Malta (in the so-called "bagnio"), Maghrebi corsairs, and European outlaws that sought shelter in Algiers. Morphology was very simple and word order very free. There was a strong use of prepositions to compensate for the lack of some word classes, such as possessive adjectives. It also had few verbal tenses: future was created with the modal bisognio ["need"], the past with past participles.

The name sabir is perhaps from Catalan saber, that is "to know"; lingua franca derives instead from Arabic lisān-al-faranğī. The latter term later came to mean any idiom connecting speakers from different cultures.

... In Molière's The Sicilian... a Turkish slave meets Don Pedre and proposes to sells himself to him saying: «Chiribirida ouch alla Star bon Turca, Non aver danara: Ti voler comprara? Mi servir a ti, Se pagar per mi; Far bona cucina, Mi levar matina, Far boller caldara; Parlara, Parlara, Ti voler comprara?» ["I am a good Turk, but I have no money; do you wish to buy? I will serve you, if you pay for me; I'll make good food, I'll get up in the morning and boil water; say, say, do you wish to buy?"] Don Pedre replies: «Chiribirida ouch alla, Mi ti non comprara, Ma ti bastonara, Si ti non andara; Andara, andara, O ti bastonara.» ["I will not buy you, but I'll beat you if you don't leave; leave, leave, or I'll beat you."]

-- https://it.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lingua_franca_mediterranea

The infinitive was used for all verb forms and the lexicon was primarily Italo-Romance, with a Spanish interface. As in Arabic, vowel space was reduced, and Venetian influences can be seen in the dropping of certain vowels and intervocalic stops.

-- https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mediterranean_Lingua_Franca#Origins

In 1830, a Lingua Franca-French dictionary... was published in Marseille for the sake of new colonists entering Algeria. The arrival of French in Algeria is considered the end of Lingua Franca, which had known its "golden age" in the 17th century... As shown below, an example of Lingua Franca is quoted in Molière's comedy The Bourgeois Gentleman. At the beginning of the Turkish ceremony, the Mufti chants what follows: Se ti sabir Ti respondir Se non sabir Tazir, tazir. Mi star Mufti: Ti qui star ti? Non intendir: Tazir, tazir. ["if you know, respond; if you don't know, be quiet, be quiet. I am the Mufti; who are you? You do not understand: be quiet, be quiet."]

-- https://fr.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lingua_franca#Exemple

Lingua Franca... is the oldest pidgin for which we have a decent amount of data. The first text in what is clearly Lingua Franca dates from 1353, but there is also material from the 13th century which may represent an earlier version of the language. It is quite likely that it had existed for some time by then, and it has even been suggested that the origins of the language lies in a simplified trade Latin used by Jewish traders. As the use of Lingua Franca spread in the Mediterranean, dialectal fragmentation emerged, the main difference being more use of Italian and Provençal vocabulary in the Middle East, while Ibero-Romance lexical material dominated in the Maghreb. After France became the dominant power in the latter area in the 19th century, Algerian Lingua Franca was heavily gallicised (to the extent that locals are reported having believed that they spoke French when conversing in Lingua Franca with the Frenchmen, who in turn thought they were speaking Arabic)... Eritrean Pidgin Italian... displayed some remarkable similarities with it, in particular the use of Italian participles as past or perfective markers.

-- https://web.archive.org/web/20160304115405/https://pantherfile.uwm.edu/corre/www/franca/edition3/foreword.html

Bonus: there apparently was a Romance language in post-Roman North Africa, now completely extinct. It developed from a specifically African variety of Latin that Saint Augustin spoke, with influence from Punic (Carthaginian) and Berber; it survived the Arab conquests and died out only in the Early Modern period.

[lucilethomas-blog]

Street art for all

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, welcome to We Are Here* !

We, Le Petit Palais, also known as the Museum of Decorative Arts, are delighted to present to you our new exhibition, created in collaboration with 13 national and international Street artists. Among them, we can name Inti, Shepard Fairey, Vhils, Seth, … for a total of 200 creations displayed.

On the contrary of what you could have expected, this exhibition is mixed with the permanent collection of the museum. Our goal ? To create a confrontation between recent creations and old sculptures and manufactures, while adding value to all the production. Surprised, or even disappointed by this choice ? Let us remind you that if Paris was an art center a few centuries ago, with a lot of painters and sculptors, it is also the first city to recognize the intensity of the Street art movement. Through their process of creation, the artists question the society on their way. The questions about republic, democracy or civil rights are very appreciated by artists as a large source of inspiration for art. For example, Shepard Fairey made Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, a huge poster in response to the 2015 attack, in order to represent the French democratic morals and to develop solidarity between parisians.

(left) confrontation between classical art and Street art

(right) Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité, Shepard Fairey, 2015

Now let’s focus on one of the artists participating in the exhibition : Seth.

Seth interrogates society through childhood, depicting our younger ones as warriors but also as dreaming humans. Using acrylic paint, the artist creates pictures displaying children playing, drawing or just thinking. The first thing you can notice, and the most intriguing one, when you watch Seth’s art is that the children’s faces are always hidden, in all of his production. The missing faces allow everyone to see themselves in his art, as we can’t perceive any special features. The children also wear common clothes, like shorts and t-shirts, to suppress any possibility to distinguish them between each other. His pictures also have high contrast in colors. The background is often dull, painted in dark blue. This might represent the real life of some children, confronted to a stressful life and even traumatic events in the worst cases. However, there is always an area around the child that is colorful, mostly painted with rainbow colors. With his creations, Seth wants to encourage children to keep dreaming and acting like the child they are, no matter how hard their life is.

Seth's paintings

With this idea in mind, Seth also realized a huge sculpture between 2018 and 2024, called Babel. Located in a small room with two paintings around him, this sculpture has its own place to exist. On the top of it, you can see a little boy. As usual, the child’s face is hidden. His head, looking above the rainbow, may indicate that he is dreaming or watching another world, perhaps more colorful than ours. Moreover, the boy is sitting on a pile of dozens of old books, glued together. Seth wanted here to prove the power of books : with the stories told inside, books are able to make us dream and travel into new worlds to live experiences. To say it shortly, books are a great outlet for stressful life. They also have a great importance in our society where screens are omnipresent, preventing us from just sitting somewhere with a book to read.

Babel, Seth, 2018-2024

As said before, we invited 13 artists. You just discovered the work of one of them, but 12 are left. Are you curious to discover them too ? In order to make this exhibition as accessible as Street Art, we decided to make the entrance free for everyone, no reservation needed. So now, you have no excuses not to come and see We Are here* !

[count-lero]

May I ask you, dear gentlemen and gentlewomen, what time is it? I humbly believe that it’s a meme time!

Once again trying my best in the field of some incredibly local history-related jokes and puns realised with the help of memes which sometimes seem old as time itself… Fortunately, we constantly speak about time, space and particular historical epoch over here, thus I proclaim the notion “outdated meme” a social construct. 👍

Aaaand proudly present to you this notorious composition called “The Austrian Chancellor who came to save the imperial day from the God-knows-where-in-the-Rhein-region and the 33 Bohemian noblemen (with the intrusion of one Moravian “fonctionnaire”) who accompanied him on his thorny life-path”!

Of course, 33 person in one picture would be a little bit too much. That’s why I took the creative liberty to pick only the most famous and influential ones whom I’m going to name all at once (with the exception of dear Fürst Karl, for sure, cause his emersion will probably start causing headaches for everyone who still checks this God forsaken blog soon…)!

Let’s start with two wonderful people standing proudly behind Schwarzenberg’s back as they were his favourite adjutants during the Napoleonic campaigns of 1812-1814 and owe him a lot with regards to their careers in the Austrian military ranks. The first one is Karl Johann Nepomuk Gabriel Graf Clam-Martinez (count Karl Clam-Martinez, in short), a wonderful soldier and even more brilliant administrator who will actively help Metternich in his rivalry with another exceptional gentlemen featuring in this meme which took place in the late 1830s (like he suddenly died in 1840).

Cool story alert! In April 1814 Clam was a member of the group of allied generals who accompanied Napoleon himself on his journey to Elba and saved the emperor from certain humiliating experience few times. Napoleon was truly grateful to him and treated him well during those memorable times. 🤲

The second one is non other than Alfred Candidus Ferdinand Fürst zu Windisch-Grätz (prince Alfred zu Windish-Grätz, in short), a flamboyant, hot-headed, very straight-forwards military man (future field-marshal) who - according to the contemporaries - managed to steal the hearts of half of the renown European beauties, most notably of Wilhelmina, duchess of Sagan. So, yeah, he actually was Metternich’s adversary №1 for a while, when it came to the sphere of scandalous love affairs, and let me tell you all, it was a sh*t show I still can’t comprehend fully because it was too much. Even for such an eccentric person as Metternich… ☠️

(Actually! Actually, both Clam and Windisch-Grätz were les amants of the two most renown sisters of Sagan - Wilhelmina, being the eldest, and Dorothea, being the youngest, - during the Congress of Vienna. Basically at the same time as those stunning women drove crazy Metternich and Talleyrand respectively. I can see that hilarious picture clearly: two diplomats practically dying of their love towards sisters of Sagan; two sisters of Sagan cheerfully celebrating the New 1815 year together with two young distinguished Austrian officers of Czech origin; meanwhile Schwarzenberg, the president of Hofkriegsrath already, just sits in his Kriegsgebäude, listens to the rumours about his ✨good boiz✨ and sighs resignedly…)

Well, that was fun! Passing on to count Radetzky…

…Comes a sudden revelation that I won’t speak out a lot about Joseph Wenzel Anton Franz Karl Graf Radetzky von Radetz (count Joseph Radetzky, in short) simply because it’s him! He probably is the most well-known herr out of the whole company - Metternich’s close friend, whom Klemens saved from the total oblivion after the war of 1809, the head-of-stuff at Schwarzenberg’s times, future president of Hofkriegsrath as well and the “father of the nation”, of course (does a question “what is the second-to-first «titular» nation in the Habsburg’s monarchy after the Austrians themselves” truly appear after that claim, I wonder)!

*also, like, Windish-Grätz and Radetzky were the 1848s main repressive force in the empire and the only people who truly mourned Metternich’s resignation and exile - what a turn of events, for Alfred especially!*

Now we come to the uncharted territory almost.

This wonderful person is… Karl Friedrich von Kübeck, Freiherr von Kübau. He sounds quite simple, ordinary even, you might say, however his origin story is a miracle. This man was a son of a tailor from Moravia (it’s like Bohemia is the western part of modern-days Czech Republic and Moravia is the eastern part of the country) who rose to the position of hofrat and obtained a barony as a reward for his excellent service. He joined Metternich’s opposition to the last character who will appear in our miraculous story in the late 1830-1840s as he understood everyone’s weaknesses very well and still saw in Metternich, an incredibly experienced official at the time, a lot of potential.

The man of his social background, he understood the needs of the country better than anyone else, yet he was unsuccessful in his efforts of reforming the monarchy slowly but surely without any need for an internal bloodshed. And that was a real tragedy, since even Metternich himself tried to adapt the bullky machinery of the Austrian empire to the certain notions of time still in the 1820s… Even Metternich, one the most famous conservators of the post-Napoleonic Europe.

I guess, that circumstance speaks all for itself. 😔

Thus, we arrive to the glorious conclusion of this extensive memology and it has the magnetic face of Franz Anton Graf von Kolowrat-Liebsteinsky (count Franz Kolowrat-Liebsteinsky). He deserves to crown our noble list of Bohemian aristocrats, since he became the actual governor of the region in the year 1809! He also was elevated to lead the Austrian State Council responsible for the Interior and Finances in 1826. 🇨🇿

The most important period in his life came with the death of the emperor Franz II and the accession to the throne of his poor son Ferdinand who had such bad health issues that he needed a Regency council to aid him in his reign. Who tried to claim all the responsibilities to himself only? Of course, it was our dear Klemens! Metternich actually waged very intense battles against Kolowrat since his appointment as the minister of the interior. And after the creation of the Regency council their rivalry could be described as “two delicate, aristocratic from the top of their silver-haired heads to the tip of their sleek fingers, old queens fighting constantly throughout the whole damned Vormärz”. 🙄

In the end, we can say with confidence, that count Kolowrat emerged victorious from the struggle: the Revolution of 1848 made an exile out of the damned Mephistopheles Metternich, meanwhile Kolowrat became the first Minister-President of the renewing Habsburg’s monarchy.

~~~~~~~

Well. That was an incredible journey half a century long, for sure. 👁👁

Very proud of marrying successively all the puns with the factual information I wanted to share about this incredible company of Austrian men who were connected to each other so gracefully and so closely. 🇦🇹

Hope you’ll like it as well, dear readers! It’s always my pleasure. 💗

Bis zum nächsten Mal~

[fibula-rasa]

from Motion Picture Magazine, January 1922

Photo Caption: “The winner of the contest is Miss Clara Bow, of 875 Seventy-third Street, Brooklyn, New York. She is very young, only sixteen. But she is full of confidence, determination and ambition. She screens perfectly, Above, a new portrait of Miss Bow.”

The New Star

“The great Contest is closed. The winner is chosen. These two short sentences might tell it all, representing as they do, nearly a year of hopes and disappointments for the thousands of contestants.

The winner is Miss Clara Bow, 857 73rd Street, Brooklyn, New York. She is very young, only sixteen. But she is full of confidence, determination and ambition. She is endowed with a mentality far beyond her years. She has a genuine spark of the divine fire. The five different screen tests she had, showed this very plainly, her emotional range of expression provoking a fine enthusiasm from every contest judge who saw the tests. She screens perfectly.

Her personal appearance is almost enough to carry her to success without the aid of the brains she indubitably possesses. She has short blonde curly hair, very thick. Her eyes are big and brown and set far apart in compliance with a law of beauty. Her features are delicate, the mouth particularly lovely. Her teeth are even and white, and her suite is as gay and unforced as youth itself. She is slenderly built, with an easy and graceful carriage, that proclaims perfect health and a freedom and zest, denied those of more mature years.

The distinguished contest judges are well satisfied with their decision.”

FULL TRANSCRIPTION BELOW:

“MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE is glad also, to publish the Final Honor Roll. It consists of those who were considered for the final winner. Several of them were very strong contenders, but individually they lacked the various good points that made Miss Bow the final choice. We are sorry to note that only one male entry is included. The Final Honor Roll is as follows:

Miss Clara Bow, 857 73rd Street, Brooklyn, New York.

Miss Eilleen Eliott, 1707 Ritner Street, Philadelphia, Pa.

Miss Laura Lyle, 56 W. 47th Street, New York City.

Miss Ella Lee Jeannette Ruby, 838 N. Church Street, Rockford, Ill.

Miss Margaret Porter, 1078 Madison Avenue, New York City.

Miss Helene Bristow, 105 Thomas Street, Newark, N.J.

Miss Bojan Claussen, 129 W. 87th Street, New York City.

Mr. Maurice Kaines, 11 Abingdon Sq. New York City.

(Continued on page 99)

The New Star 

(Continued from page 55)

“Miss Virginia Eastman, 104 West Seventieth Street, New York City.

Miss Lula M. Hubbard, 223 Fourth Street, San Antonio, Texas.

Other Awards in the contest were three very beautiful pieces of lace, which Ensign Tyburc, of the United States Navy, brought from abroad for the express purpose of giving them to the Fame and Fortune Contest. The lace was made by the nuns on the islands of Malta, famous the world over for their exquisite laces.

Miss Bow was given a little bolero jacket. Miss Eastman was presented with a filmy scarf. Miss Ursula Mengoni, a little girl just five years old, had a pair of unusual lace socks for her baby feet, given to her, as her share of the contest glory.

MOTION PICTURE MAGAZINE is glad to present Miss Bow’s sincere and grateful letter in full:

‘Gentlemen: I want to thank all those in the Brewster Publications, Inc., who have been responsible for the kind treatment and many efforts on my behalf, from the day of my entrance into the Fame and Fortune Contest of 1921 up until the present time, and also for the beautiful outfit, which they so kindly presented me with. Everyone thinks the outfit beautiful, and is so very becoming, thanks to the taste of Mrs. Gleason and Miss Palmer.

‘Now, about my future. I hope that everything you credit me with will prove true, and that all your hopes and expectations will also do the same. I hope that with the proper training I will grow into a good actress, worthy of the Brewster Publications’ help, and hope that some day Mr. Brewster and the rest will be proud of me and my work. I intend to work very hard and try and perform the smallest role that is given to me to the best of my ability.

‘I thought that writing to you would be better than trying to get an interview. In any business matters, I hope to rely upon your judgment, as I am inexperienced in that direction.

‘Feeling that I have said all I wish to say, I will close, with much appreciation and thanks to the Brewster Publications, Inc. I am, Yours sincerely,

‘Clara G. Bow.’”

[nordleuchten]

La Fayette and Emma Willard

I promised a long time ago in a post about La Fayette and his attitude towards woman, that I would transcribe a few letters between La Fayette and notable woman of his time. Now, with the generous help of @acrossthewavesoftime, I can present you the first of these letters - a letter by Emma Willard (née Hart).

Troy, May 1 1833

My dear General,

Sometimes when I think of you I feel such a desire to see you, that I am tempted to go again to France. Are you not coming to America? You intended when I was in Paris, and why not come now? Why not leave France to herself and come to us? Do not my dear friend, too much regret what has happened there. Much had been gained by your revolution, tho not all you could have wished. I rejoice that all that has happened, is of a nature to exalt your own fame, as it will go down to future times, as the great benefactor of your own. You might it is true have taken to yourself, the government of France, when you gave it to other hands; But if you had, the selfish and the ambitious would have suid [sic] — there is no such thing as disinterested benevolence, — even Lafayette has yielded to the dictates of ambition. — Now, I regard you as standing among individuals as America among nations, a revolution in yourself of the slanders against humanity

I send you a copy of an appeal which I have lately made in favour of promoting female education in Greece. It appears to be favourably received and our Ladies in different parts of the country are forming societies to aid in the project. The women in those darkened regions of the earth are oppressed beyond all other oppression. The negro slave is free compared with them — Sold by parents to men whom perhaps they loathe, and by them, if suspected put to asuret [sic] death. Complian [sic] tho I have not so much for spoken of this, in my appeal, does yet contemplate the planting of a Tree whose leaves may be for the future healing of the degraded women of mahometan countries. If we succeed in educating the Greek women, and educating them to moral dignity; it must inevitably work a change in the customs of the surrounding nations. I think you will be gratified to know that a spirit to attempt such an enterprise is abroad among the deaughters [sic] your own America; and that it was moved as fast by her, you have called your friend, and who prizes the appellation above all earthly titles.

Remember me if your daughters are with you as you speak to them. In looking over my papers to prepare my Journal for the press (which I am about to give to the Greek cause) I am again and again touched with the feeling of their kindness to me while I was in France. I have written letters which I think have not been received — one to Mathilde [La Fayette’s second grand-daughter by his son Georges Washington La Fayette] and several to yourself. Perhaps my name devoted to yourself and family may be even too prominent in the memories of my stay in Paris — but the heart loves to speak its inward feelings, and mine is

Yours in the Truest friendship and the warmest gratitude

Emma Willard

Gen. La Fayette

Emma Hart Willard was an American women’s right activist with a special interest in the education of women. Her engagement and sphere of interest was not limited to her native country, as you can see in this letter. She was active all around the western world and had many influential and revered friends - one of them was La Fayette. It seems as if they first met during La Fayette’s visit to America in 1824/25. Willard had established a school for girls in Troy, New York, in 1821 (actually already in 1818 but the school was not properly running prior to 1821), known as the Troy Female Seminary. The school, with a new name, is still operating and doing extremely well these days. La Fayette visited the Seminary in 1825. Here is what La Fayette’s private secretary, Auguste Levasseur, wrote in his book about the visit (Lafayette in America, in 1824 and 1825; or, Journal of Travels, in the United States. by A. Levasseur, 1829, Vol. 1, pages 119-120)

While we were taking breakfast in the house, from the balcony of which we had seen all the militia of the place and the neighbouring towns march by, the General received a message from the ladies of Troy, inviting him to visit the Female Boarding School, where they had all assembled to receive him; and he set out with pleasure. The avenues to that establishment, which is conducted by Mrs. Willard, were decorated with green branches and flowers, and terminated near the house at a triumphal arch, under which he was received by a committee of ladies, at the head of whom was Mrs. Paulding, who, in few words, expressed to him the patriotic sentiments of the ladies of Troy, and their gratitude to the illustrious benefactor of their beloved country. He was then conducted by that committee into the establishment, where none of the other gentlemen accompanied him; and we soon after heard the pure and angelic voices of a choir of young ladies singing.

The General soon after reappeared on the threshold, his features expressing a deep feeling, his eyes filled with tears. He slowly descended the steps, supported and surrounded by the principal ladies of the academy. Two hundred young ladies, dressed in white, followed him, harmoniously raising the voice of gratitude to Heaven. They conducted him to the outer gate, where they took an affecting leave, in the presence of several thousand spectators, whom the scene had reduced to a solemn silence.

General Lafayette wished not to leave Troy, without making a few private visits to different persons of his intimate acquaintance, and particularly Mrs. Taylor, with whose family he became attached during the revolutionary war. Mrs. Taylor is a young lady much distinguished by her wit, and by the acquisitions she has made in the boarding school we had just visited. We found in her house a handsome cabinet of minerals, remarkable for its order and value. She presented the General, as a memorial of Troy, a hortus - siccus, including more than two hundred of the most remarkable plants of that vicinity, collected, arranged, and described by herself.

La Fayette’s and Willard’s relationship became very close and affectionate in the following years as you can see in the letter above. Willard plays at her visit to France in 1830 and she later published a book about her time in France - Journal and Letters from France and Great-Britain (1833). Included in this book are several letters from Emma to her sister, describing the time she spent with La Fayette and his family in Paris. Her descriptions are rather lengthy but offer great insight into her activities in Paris (she attended two soirees at La Fayette’s house, visited the opera with him, he arranged for her to meet the Queen, he took her to visit the Chambre of Deputies, …), as well as offer some personal insight into La Fayette’s character and his relationship with his family. I thought to include some short excerpts here to emphasise their relationship but her re-telling’s deserve their own time in the spot light.

[triviareads]

Green-Eyed at Almack’s

For Kate and Anthony 2021 Week, Day 1 Prompt: Jealousy and all its cousins

Even a year after her wedding, the new Lady Bridgerton found that her gaze fell almost instinctively on her husband, no matter the time or place.

It was not her fault, Kate reasoned to herself after the umpteenth time she had been caught staring by her husband, his mother, her mother, her sister, or assorted Bridgerton relatives, and then teased mercilessly about it. Surely it was natural for a (not so) newlywed to look, especially when one was married to a man as handsome, kind, loving and warm as Anthony Bridgerton?

Kate sighed dreamily, her gaze drifting once more to her husband even as she danced a set with her brother-in-law, the Duke of Hastings. Despite the crowded rooms at Almack’s, Kate quickly found him, his tall, dark-haired figure easily distinguishable among the rest of his friends and-

Kate frowned.

A woman was speaking with Anthony now- a young, beautiful woman, Kate quickly registered, taking note of her fine features, auburn hair, and full figure that so exactly fit the fashions of the day. She looked closer to Edwina’s age than her own. Kate had no idea who she was, but saw how their heads were bent close to one another in a rather intimate manner- far more intimate than Kate was comfortable with.

She felt the stirrings of something green and familiar within her. 

"Who is she?" Kate muttered to the duke, gesturing towards the woman, now conversing gaily with Anthony who, in turn, was speaking with equal pleasure. 

Instead of offering any clarity, His Grace merely raised a brow towards his sister-in-law. "Have you been watching your husband again, Lady Bridgerton?"

"Merely a glance!" Kate protested, and then added pointedly. "Long enough to wonder who that woman is."

Simon was able to get a look while they executed their turns.

"I do not know her either," he told Kate.

They both watched as the woman said something that made Anthony tip his head back and roar with laughter. 

Her husband suffered few fools, and even fewer debutantes. Indeed he was practically a master in outrunning them and their match-making mamas. What was special about this girl?"

"She is rather pretty," Simon commented as if he had read her mind. He smirked at her for good measure.

"Come now, Your Grace," Kate said, trying to sound worldly and bored even as her insides were practically churning. "If you mean to rile me, it will not work."

"Won't it?" the duke asked mildly. "It usually works wonders with Anthony."

"Really?" Kate asked despite herself. 

"Oh yes. I point out that you are standing three paces from any gentleman, and he flies into a jealous frenzy and immediately comes to sweep you away."

"That's why he looked like a boiling kettle when I was conversing with Lord Melville the other night."

"A far more favorable comparison than mine, which was an overripe tomato- Kate?"

But Kate was no longer listening. She was gawking rather unfashionably as Anthony put his hand on the lady's lower back- her husband! Touching that woman-!

It took everything within her to not escape mid-set and shove past several other dancers to inquire exactly what this woman was doing with her husband.

Thankfully, the set quickly drew to a close, and Kate didn't even bother to thank the duke for the dance before marching towards her errant husband. 

"Anthony!” she said loudly once she was close enough. Perhaps it was not very good ton to exclaim her husband’s Christian name in as public a setting as Almack’s, but she had to get his attention somehow.

Anthony turned towards her, bemused. The lady, who he was still touching, did the same.

Kate merely looked pointedly at her, and then disgruntledly at him.

Anthony’s gaze flicked between her and the woman before understanding dawned on him. Kate allowed herself to smugly await an apology, and then hopefully some groveling for good measure.

To her immense irritation, none of those things happened. Instead, Anthony grinned at her, unrepentant.

“Kate,” he said to her, wholly unaffected by her seething, “may I introduce you to Miss Eliza Rokesby, my cousin?”

Oh.

His cousin.

Kate exhaled sharply. 

"From Scotland," she dimly heard herself state. “The doctor’s daughter.” Kate had been told that Anthony’s aunt’s family lived in Edinburgh, and that they could not come down for the wedding such short notice. An Elizabeth Rokesby had penned her a pretty note that had been sent along with beautiful silver candlesticks.  

Miss Rokesby dimpled and curtsied. “Yes,” she said. “It is so very nice to meet you at last, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Eliza here has come to London for her first season,” Anthony explained, so obviously enjoying the dumbfound expression Kate was struggling to wipe from her features.

“It’s been great fun, for the most part,” Eliza added, blithely oblivious. Her pretty features then fell into a frown. “Although the season is proving a bit trickier than I thought it would be.”

 Kate finally found the ability to speak. “Why so?”

“Some gentlemen have been rather… persistent,” Eliza attempted delicately.

Anthony offered a more blunt explanation: “Mr. Westcott is practically hounding her- the man won’t leave her alone.” Kate winced.

Eliza nodded fervently. “I was desperate, but luckily, I came across cousin Anthony, and he offered to- erm- play along.”

“And so you pretended to be interested in her,” Kate finished with a small groan.

“You see, my dear,” Anthony said, smirking, "I was merely doing my level best to protect a family member from a rogue."

To this, Kate could not help but reply waspishly, "Then you should have enlisted me in your cause far earlier." She threw her husband a dirty look. "I'm sure you can attest to my great success in that particular area."

[megashadowdragon]

This post is a reworked and somewhat expanded tidbit from a massive writing about House Martell I posted last Friday. I think the topic—Doran's gout—is of interest even to those who have no interest in "tinfoil" of any kind. Because I think it deserves a wider airing than the one it likely got buried deep in the comment-continuations of a monster post, I decided to pull out the relevant, not-tinfoil-y stuff, goose it out a little, and post it on its own, separated from the tinfoil context.

TL;DR: Doran has "saturnine gout", caused by chronic lead poisoning from the lead sugar used to sweeten his beloved "sweet heavy strongwine". His gout and elements of his story are a riff on the story of the infamously gout-afflicted real world King Charles I of Spain AKA Holy Roman Emperor Charles V.

All About Doran's Gout

Doran has gout. Why might that be, and what is the purpose of giving him gout?

Gout was historically/colloquially believed to be caused by excessive alcohol (onlinelibrary . wiley . com/doi/pdf/10 . 1002/art . 1780080442 ) consumption. We absolutely see Doran drink and indeed show a "love" for "sweet, heavy strongwine":

[Doran] ate a bit of it, and drank a cup of the sweet, heavy strongwine that he loved. When it was empty, he filled it once again. (CotG)

Each of the Martells in general seems to like to drink in their own way, too. Thus we see Selmy tell Dany Quentyn is…

"Drinking with his knights" (DWD Dae VIII)

…and when Quent subsequently appears, his face is "flushed and ruddy". Dany assumes he's drunk on wine (just like Elder Brother):

Too much wine, the queen concluded… (ibid.)

We also see Quentyn really savor a glass of wine in the dark and pour himself another, much as Doran did, above:

Quentyn… poured himself a cup of wine and drank it in the dark. The taste was sweet solace on his tongue, so he lit a candle and poured himself another. (DWD tDT)

Oberyn swills wine like water:

"Is it Dornish wine you're drinking?" [said Oberyn.]

"From the Arbor."

Oberyn made a face. "Red water."

…

"I think I may drink some of Lord Redwyne's grape juice after all."

"As you like." Tyrion served him a cup.

The man took a sip, sloshed it about in his mouth, and swallowed. "It will serve, for the moment. I will send you up some strong Dornish wine on the morrow." He took another sip. (SOS Ty IX)

Tyrion found Prince Oberyn drinking a cup of red wine as he donned his armor. He was attended by four of his younger Dornish lordlings. "Good morrow to you, my lord," the prince said. "Will you take a cup of wine?"

"Should you be drinking before battle?"

"I always drink before battle." (SOS Ty X)

Arianne likewise really enjoys her wine:

When [Arianne] required more wine, Timoth would fetch it. (FFC PitT)

When [Arianne and Tyene] were ten Arianne had stolen a flagon of wine, and the two of them had gotten drunk together. (PitT)

Cedra glanced up shyly at his name and almost spilled the wine that she was pouring [for Arianne]. (PitT)

[Arianne] drank a little wine to settle her stomach. (PitT)

She seems to prefer her wine strong and she makes fun of Arys's low tolerance for alcohol:

[Arys:] "I was drunk when I said that.

[Arianne:] "You'd had three cups of watered wine." (FFC tSK)

She also tacitly informs us that the Dornish as a whole are a drunken bunch when she says the "Drunken Dornishman" Inn was "aptly named". (TWOW Ari II)

Thus we might simply conclude that Doran has gout because he, like a typical Martell and typical Dornishman, drinks too much.

In truth, though, while booze isn't good for gout, clinically fructose is a greater villain.    Thus Doran's orange-eating—

He had decided to break his fast before he went, with a blood orange and a plate of gull's eggs diced with bits of ham and fiery peppers. (CotG)

"We were eating oranges." - Doran Martell (CotG)

—is probably worse for his gout than his alcohol consumption, per se (notwithstanding the fact that vitamin C on its own may slightly lower one's risk of contracting gout in the first place). Besides all the oranges he eats, the purine-rich ham he puts in his eggs is especially bad for him, while the dates Dorne is known for (along with its fruit in general)—

A fortnight past, a trader had been butchered in the shadow city, a harmless man who'd come to Dorne for fruit and found death instead of dates. (FFC tSK)

—are a veritable fructose bomb.

Not Simply Gout, But Saturnine Gout

All that having been said, I strongly suspect that Doran's gout is not about his alcohol consumption, per se, nor even all that fruit. Rather, I suspect his gout is "saturnine gout", which is caused by lead poisoning. Lead sugar AKA "salt of Saturn" AKA lead acetate was often added to wine in and after the Middle Ages to sweeten and/or preserve it. And what kind of wine does Doran love?

sweet, heavy [like lead!] strongwine

Sounds like wine sweetened with lead sugar to me, especially given (a) lead's colloquial reputation as quintessentially "heavy" and (b) GRRM's love of wordplay.

Sure enough, the distinguishing features of saturnine gout perfectly coincide with Doran's symptoms. Unlike normal gout, which tends to afflict one or perhaps two joints only and most frequently the joint at the base of the big toe, bouts of saturnine gout "tend to occur in the knee" and "are frequently polyarticular", meaning they affect many joints at once. (www  .  ncbi . nlm . nih . gov/pubmed/2661030) Indeed, Doran's knees are a huge problem, and his gout is very polyarticular:

The gout had swollen and reddened his joints grotesquely; his left knee was an apple, his right a melon, and his toes had turned to dark red grapes, so ripe it seemed as though a touch would burst them. (FFC CotG)

Doran has other subtle symptoms that are consistent with lead poisoning/saturnine gout as well. Consider these descriptions of Doran:

…they found Doran Martell seated behind a cyvasse table, his gouty legs supported by a cushioned footstool. He was toying with an onyx elephant, turning it in his reddened, swollen hands. The prince looked worse than she had ever seen him. His face was pale and puffy, his joints so inflamed that it hurt her just to look at them. (FFC PitT)

Beneath the coverlet, his legs were pale, soft, ghastly. Both of his knees were red and swollen, and his toes were almost purple, twice the size they should have been. (DWD tW)

[Doran] sounded so sad, so exhausted, so weak. (FFC PitT)

When he raised his head to look at her, his dark eyes were clouded with pain. Is that the gout? Arianne wondered. (PitT)

In the shade of the orange trees, the prince sat in his chair with his gouty legs propped up before him, and heavy bags beneath his eyes . . . though whether it was grief or gout that kept him sleepless, Hotah could not say. (CotG)

The prince leaned back against his pillows and closed his eyes, but Hotah knew he did not sleep. He is in pain. (CotG)

Sometimes in the deep black hours of the morning sleep found him in his chair. (CotG)

The prince sat in his high seat beneath the Martell spear, his face pale with pain. (CotG)

Look, his hand is shaking. The Prince of Dorne is terrified. (tSK)

[Doran's] legs had been useless for three years, but there was still some strength in his hands and shoulders. (DWD tW)

Doran's generalized pain, exhaustion and weakness, his insomnia (complete with more wordplay surrounding lead's weight: he has "heavy bags under his eyes"), his hand tremors (if not feigned for Arys's benefit) and his mostly pallid complexion combined with the lividity (blood pooling/dark color/swelling) in his hands and lower body is likewise consistent with chronic lead poisoning.

Another symptom of lead poisoning is loss of appetite (whereas common gout is associated with overconsumption), and Doran certainly doesn't seem the hungry sort:

A serving man brought him a bowl of purple olives, with flatbread, cheese, and chickpea paste. He ate a bit of it, and drank a cup of the sweet, heavy strongwine that he loved.

Chronic common gout leads to the formation of "tophi"—white, chalky deposits of uric acid crystals which can break through the skin—whereas "tophi rarely develop" in cases of saturnine gout. And lo! There's no hint of tophi in the descriptions of Doran's gout symptoms.

Given the medical evidence, it's safe to say that Doran's beloved strongwine is the primary cause of his troubles. (In a certain unusual sense, then, it can be said that Doran does have a drinking problem of sorts after all. It's just not the alcohol that's causing the problem.)

The "Saturnine" Giveaway

While the medical evidence adds up, for me there's an even better, textually-coded reason to believe that Doran has saturnine gout. Remembering that saturnine gout is caused by lead poisoning, isn't it interesting that Doran's brother Oberyn is (a) a master poisoner and (b) literally called "saturnine" in juxtaposition to a reference to Doran's gout"

"My brother's health requires he remain at Sunspear." The princeling removed his helm. Beneath, his face was lined and saturnine, with thin arched brows above large eyes as black and shiny as pools of coal oil. (SOS Ty V)

Ladies and gentlemen: GRRM.

The Charles I/V Parallel

Doran's gout is clearly riffing on the story of one of real-world history's most infamous gout sufferers: Spain's King Charles I AKA Holy Roman Emperor Charles V.

Charles didn't marry until he was 25—very late in life for his era and station. Doran likewise married very late for a firstborn highborn man of Westeros: Given that Doran is 52 at the beginning of AFFC, in very early 300 AC—

Though he was but two-and-fifty, Doran Martell seemed much older. (FFC CotG)

—he was likely 25 c. 273, when he did not sail to Casterly Rock with his mother and siblings because…

…Doran was [as yet merely] betrothed to Lady Mellario of Norvos… (SOS Ty X)

Much as King Charles famously fell in love with his wife at first sight, so did Doran and Mellario fall for one another at first sight—

"I saw Volantis once, on my way to Norvos, where I first met Mellario. The bells were ringing, and the bears danced down the steps. Areo will recall the day."

"I remember," echoed Areo Hotah in his deep voice. "The bears danced and the bells rang, and the prince wore red and gold and orange. My lady asked me who it was who shone so bright."

Prince Doran smiled wanly. (FFC PitT)

—such that It Is Known that he "married for love". (DWD tDT)

Perhaps most obviously, Charles was infamously carried from place to place in a sedan chair due to the pain of his gout, just as Doran transported by litter, unable to walk or even ride.

King Charles was famous for something else, too: a famously enlarged lower jaw. And what do you know, Doran's son Quentyn "heavy jaw" that is "too square", which Doran seems to share, as Arianne says Quentyn both "looks like" and "looks too much like" Doran. (DWD Dae VII; tMM; FFC PitT; WOW Ari I)

Two Doran-Charles connections are more playful. First, Charles's love was Isabella of Portugal. Portugal is, of course, famous for the production of Port, which "coincidentally" could be described rather perfectly as a "sweet heavy strongwine" like the one Doran "loved".

Second, while Charles's wife Isabella gave birth to five children in total, two of her sons died as infants, leaving her with three children who grew to adulthood. This just so happen to prefigure what we're told about Doran's mother:

"I was the oldest," the prince said, "and yet I am the last. After Mors and Olyvar died in their cradles, I gave up hope of brothers. I was nine when Elia came, a squire in service at Salt Shore. … And a year later Oberyn arrived, squalling and kicking." (FFC CotG)

All these allusions to King/Emperor Charles are fascinating. To the extent that some people have speculated that Charles suffered from saturnine gout, much like many believe the Romans did, the parallel could even help reinforce the idea that Doran's gout is saturnine, caused by the lead sugar used to sweeten his wine.

The Point

Neat, huh? For many, parallels and references like this are simply "easter eggs", interesting little nuggets that are "cool" and little else.

Personally, I think they're an inherent part of GRRM's greater project, part of a web of references pointing to in-world truths that ASOIAF has yet to even let us know we don't know. (We are all all Jon Snows to GRRM's Ygritte, here.) The much larger writing from pieces of this writing were extracted, reworked and expanded upon here (a reworking which I have subsequently gone back and overlaid into the original) argues that House Nymeros-Martell has two major players in interesting places that readers do not yet realize are Martells. Specifically, that writing argues that Archmaester Marwyn the Mage is a Martell, and that Elder Brother of Quiet Isle, who has no name and who tells Brienne he "died" at the Trident, is in fact none other than the "late" Prince Lewyn of Dorne, who I argue is Marwyn's younger brother.

And wouldn't you know it? Marwyn has a King Charles-esque "slab of jaw", while Elder Brother has a "heavy jaw", also called a "thick square jaw". (FFC Sam V, B VI) What's more, if I'm correct that Elder Brother is a former prince of Dorne who's now retired to the monastic retreat on Quiet Isle, this sets up a huge parallel to history's most famous gout sufferer, Charles V. How so?

Charles famously abdicated all his titles and retired to a monastery, which is exactly what I argue Doran's uncle Lewyn did after the Battle of the Trident. What's more, Charles famously staged his own death and resurrection at the monastery—

…about six months before his death Charles staged his own funeral, complete with shroud and coffin, after which he "rose out of the coffin, and withdrew to his apartment, full of those awful sentiments, which such a singular solemnity was calculated to inspire." (wikipedia: Charles V, quoting a famous 19th century biography of Charles)

—which is in essence what I believe Lewyn Martell did when he was "reborn" as a monk on Quiet Isle:

"When I died in the Battle of the Trident…" - Elder Brother (FFC B VI)

"I woke here, upon the Quiet Isle. The [old] Elder Brother told me I had washed up on the tide, naked as my name day. I can only think that someone found me in the shallows, stripped me of my armor, boots, and breeches, and pushed me back out into the deeper water. The river did the rest. We are all born naked, so I suppose it was only fitting that I come into my second life the same way. I spent the next ten years in silence." - Elder Brother (FFC B VI)

[jae-writes-fanfiction]

Oooooo girl I love these prompts!!! For a wild one hows about Robb Stark with genre3 trope2 and locashion7????

A Promise to the Moon

Robb Stark x Reader - 3873 Words - More Freaky Fics

Notes: This is a a dark fic, a Gothic Romance!AU in the style of Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, it features references and occasional quotes from both. I also emulated the writing style (prose and exposition heavy).

The requested prompts were: haunted house/ghost story, memento mori, and a secluded castle/manor. The ghost elements got lost as I wrote it- sorry!

Warnings: a toxic/icky relationship with controlling/possessive behavior (just like the ones in the afformentipmed novels), the word “fuck” is used once, light smut, dated health methods like leeches and bloodletting, major character death. There is no happy ending, Enjoy Responsibly ❤️

- - -

“Let the wind come shake me down! /Deliver me closer to the ground/ I made a promise to the moon.” -Jason Webley

The newspaper advertisement had asked for educated persons of age to apply for the position in person. The grand Winterfell Estate sat desolate among the moors, fog-covered bogs and copses of sickly forests mottled the land and turned the beautiful countryside into a crypt.

The owner and solicitor, a Mister Stark, had requested a tutor for his troubled little sister the estate’s only current inhabitant.

The locket around your neck held your mother’s portrait and served as your only reminder of the life you once lived. Lost in a strange and new place you relied on its familiar weight for comfort.

As you approached the Estate you noticed their family name was carved into the arch above the wooden door. It announced you as an intruder, and your locket confirmed you as an outsider. It made you miss the place you once called home.

The Housekeeper was more than amiable and the child, Arya as you learned she was called, was a verifiable genius. You knew instantly she would benefit from one-on-one specialized instruction. As for Mister Stark, he had yet to appear around the estate- the Housekeeper herself interviewed and appointed you to the position.

The work itself was exhausting and after a week of it, you were desperate for a brief moment of solitude. Arya was never satiated, her thirst for life and adventure outpaced any sort of book work and left you aching from chasing her around.

It was past midnight, the moon already hidden in the vast inky sky when you slunk into the sitting room. You lit the lamps and settled in with one of the many tomes that adorned the room. The pages felt brittle under your fingertips and you turned them ceaselessly.

An accented voice pulled you from the book’s pages, the shock made you snap the book closed harder than you would’ve liked.

“Now what’s a decent sort like you doing out of bed at this hour?”

A man leaned against the entryway, a smile on his face that made you feel exposed and downright sinful. The dark brown of his eyes was mirrored in the curls of his hair which were highlighted with light licks of a scandalous silver that seemed to sparkle under the sparse candlelight.

He smirked and it felt like you were falling through the floor. You could see luggage behind him in the hallway and you wondered why the Housekeeper hadn’t been alerted- and why you hadn’t been warned of such a distinguished intrusion.

“Certainly Sir, you know I cannot answer that,” you said shortly.

You rose quickly, shelved the book, and turned to leave. It was late and the entire situation was highly improper- yet he blocked your path a cheeky grin on his face.

“Have I frightened you?” He taunted you with a wolfish grin, and you felt your face grow hot.

“I am not frightened,” you lied smoothly, “I just wish to retire for the evening.”

He laughed openly seeing right through you. He stepped aside anyway but caught your wrist as you passed. You froze instantly and trembled as he brought your knuckles to his lips. “Goodnight then,” he spoke with a smirk the strange concoction of trepidation and intrigue evident as you pulled away and ran from the room.

It wasn’t until you were secure in your room, your hands clasped over your thundering heart, that you realized he must’ve been your employer whose portrait hung in the very hallway you just ran through.

You struggled to fall asleep, staring up at the ceiling until you thought shapes were starting to appear in the darkness. Yet you must’ve as the next thing you remembered was a burst of light and a loud noise waking you up.

“Oh me!” The Housekeeper wailed, as she announced herself in your chambers the next morning. You winced as she threw open the damask drapes, the sunlight almost blinding.

“I need you to keep Arya on her best behavior today,” she started ranting pulling your clothes out for the day in a flurry, “Mister Stark has returned and the entire west wing must be prepared immediately so I cannot manage the little miss!”

Typically the staff was prepared to assemble his rooms at a moment's notice. The estate’s Master was known to appear and disappear for any length of time at will.

You let the Housekeeper prepare you, and lead you to the same sitting room for your formal introduction. As you entered the room Robb eyed you hungrily and you knew the setting was chosen intentionally.

Embarrassment washed over you as the previous night’s run-in resurfaced in your mind. The only thing you could do was make a heaven out of hell, so you bolstered what confidence you could. No matter how charming and handsome he might be, he wouldn’t win the satisfaction of seeing your unease.

The Housekeeper cleared her throat and shuffled forward, “may I introduce-“

“Mister Stark,” you said smartly cutting her off and gliding forward. You could feel her ire at your break in tradition but knew this was the best way to regain some control over the situation. You smiled coyly and shook his hand with as much indifference as you could muster despite the anticipatory anxiety building in your body.

“Robb, please,” he insisted lightly. He watched you like a cat might watch a mouse and you felt a shiver course through your body as he openly looked over it.

“Is this proper enough an introduction?” The sarcastic lilt to his voice matched his devilish smirk, and you had to admit it was a good look for him.

“You’ll have to forgive me I’m often wary of new faces,” you said sitting across from him, “especially those belonging to nefariously enigmatic gentlemen.”

Robb laughed openly, and in a manic burst of motion took your hand in his. Your heart raced at his slight touch and you tried your best to suppress the smile on your face.

“And how do you find Winterfell? Is she fitting for such a roguish bachelor?”

Your smile faltered briefly, “the estate is beyond magnificent but, I can’t help feeling as if her halls ought to have more life within them.”

Robb nodded to the Housekeeper who still lingered in the doorway, “I do believe that is the first honest answer I’ve ever been given on the subject.”

“It would seem so Sir,” she chirped dutifully.

“Well perhaps I shall extend my stay,” he said a wicked smile spreading across his face as he turned his gaze back to you, “and see what other truths you might impart upon me.”

The Housekeeper made a small disgruntled noise in protest before leaving to summon Arya into the sitting room to formally receive her brother. Apparently, you weren’t the only one to gain her disapproval.

Within the short moment, Robb stood and crossed to stand over you. You titled your face towards him unconsciously, his face close enough to feel his breath on yours as he spoke.

”You intrigue me, ” he said, desire palpable in his voice, ”I will not suffer to let you go again when I wish to become better acquainted.”

You could feel the underlying threat in his words but the temptation to close the space between you eclipsed whatever caution lived in your mind.

You couldn’t explain what drew you to him, despite your better judgment. The only comfort you had was knowing how similarly affected he was by you. Your breath hitched in your throat as he suddenly backed away.

Arya bounded into the room not a moment later, the now frazzled Housekeeper rushing behind her trying to contain the girl. You smiled as they appeared, thankful for the distraction.

The next week was filled with similar close calls filled with double entendres, lingering touches, and companionship like you had never known before. After a month had passed in such a manner it was clear why he was staying- and the house dared to dream that for once he might stay forever.

Like most dreams, it was better left ignored. On another night you strolled under the moonlight along the estate’s often forgotten terraces. Robb held you by the waist as you walked, his grip lower and harsher than would’ve been deemed appropriate. Occasionally, the moon peaked out to reveal a scandalous state of undress on your part, the casual clothes betraying the growing familiarity between you two.

“Winterfell is stunning under the stars, is it not?” Robb glanced at you while speaking and you thought he also looked magnificent highlighted by the cosmos.

You nodded in agreement looking out over the estate’s grounds and gardens.

"You must have become in some degree attached to the house?"

“To a degree,” you answered wryly.

"Arya seems to have become quite attached to you, and I’m willing to wager you to her as well,” Robb continued.

You hummed in agreement, “I believe there is a mutual attachment forming. She’s an extraordinary child."

Robb stopped walking suddenly and turned you harshly in his arms to face him. All traces of levity had melted from his face, replaced with a drastic seriousness you hadn’t expected. “And you would be sorry to part with them?”

You ran your hand over his reassuringly. “I think some part of me will be here always.”

Robb kept a level expression as he continued, waiting to gauge your reaction as he spoke. “Then it is indeed regrettable that Arya must attend a finishing school next year.”

You froze beside him, “next spring?”

Robb nodded solemnly, “I’ve talked it over with her nursemaid and the Housekeeper they both agree you’ve done wonders for her mind but- the decorum benefiting a lady of our station is not something a tutor can impart.”

He paused and spoke then as if he was reassuring himself of the decision, instead of revealing it to you. “So yes, it is imperative she attends a finishing school.”

“Then I must inquire toward other positions,” you mused suddenly afraid the ground under your feet might fall away beneath you.

“Would you be grieved to leave then? I know some schools might permit a lady’s maid to accompany her,” Robb shrugged, “it is the least I could do.”

You tensed and bit your lip, “for her sake I might be able but it is so far away...”

“From what?”

“From you!” You spoke headlessly, finally voicing the thoughts and desires that had grown within you.

“Then I must ask you,” he said hoarsely as if he was unsure for the first time, “forsake neither Arya nor the estate itself, pass through the rest of your life here.”

Your silence unnerved him and you wondered what joke he was playing at. He was by the designation of your employment your superior, he had occasionally offered you crumbs of affection and attention- yet you felt he must know your feelings towards him- and that this was some cruel joke on your behalf.

“Do you doubt me,” he asked when you didn’t answer.

"Entirely,” you said without hesitation. He was too unknown for certainty, too reckless and listless for dependence.

He scoffed openly at your response, "so you have no faith in me?"

"Not a whit."

“Then you shall be convinced,” he hissed gesturing wildly, “have I not treated you as my equal? Have I not entertained your thoughts and whims as I might a dearest friend? Have I not watched you like a man possessed? You strange, you almost unearthly thing,” he gripped your arm tracing the length of it with frenzied kisses, “you will be mine. I shall not suffer your absence in my life!”

You shuddered, a peculiar sob racking through your body as he entreated you.

“I- I cannot answer this,” you cried tearing yourself away, “I cannot choose between my heart and my mind. I cannot see how you love me but rather desire to possess me- and for what love I hold for you, I cannot yet resign my fate so quickly.”

He turned away from you harshly, familiar darkness returning to his eyes. “Then think on these things,” he demanded before stalking away, “I cannot remain here for you to torture me so!”

You could not retreat to your rooms and drop into the soothing arms of sleep, your mind was twisted and confused. What kind of a man manipulated your emotions as a declaration of love? Moreover, what kind of man could confuse love and possession so easily? Your thoughts remained dower as the sleepless night raced on.

As you joined Arya and the Housekeeper for breakfast the next morning you were disheartened to learn Robb had left again.

Two months passed without a word from Rob to you or any persons in his household. Although the grand estate was filled with other employees and your charge- his absence left you strangely cold. But perhaps that was the changing air drifting in from the study’s open window.

“Arya please,” you sighed, “finish the recitation and we can move on for the day.” You rubbed a hand over your temple, your patience growing thin with the young mistresses.

“I don’t want to keep reading boring old books! I want to go outside!” Arya whined as she dramatically closed and pushed the book away from her.

The poor thing had been acting out lately, and it was wearing you down. You sighed and tried to sound as encouraging as possible, “Arya as soon as we finish here I’ll have the Housekeeper scrounge up your play clothes.”

Arya huffed and pushed the stack of books off her desk and onto the floor before crossing her arms belligerently, “I won’t do it!”

“Is that any way to talk to your tutor?”

You looked over at the interruption, Robb leaned against the doorframe with a smile on his face that made you feel as if you were seeing the sun for the first time in days.

Arya shrieked excitedly at the sight of her brother and bolted from her chair to wrap her arms around him as much as she could. She babbled in great run-on-sentences trying to condense the last month without him into whatever fragment of time she currently had.

He listened politely, the entire time his eyes never left yours. “Arya, it is clear to me that you’ll have no capacity for more studies today,” he said, finally looking at his sister, “why don’t you take the dogs and see what you can discover outside?”

Arya howled and ran from the room, you could hear her rapid footfalls and exaggerated cries rousing the Housekeeper and kennel master to her aid.

Then it was just you and Robb. You stood rapidly and all but threw yourself into his arms. You moved without thinking, unsure if you could survive another second apart. He pulled you flush against him, his strong grip threatened to bruise your hips and you didn’t care. You rested your hands against his chest, unable to hide the smile on your face before you kissed him.

“I suppose this means you haven’t been preparing to completely divorce yourself from the estate,” Robb joked dryly.

“No,” you said a little dejectedly, “how could I, knowing you’re out in the world somewhere.”

You looked away from him suddenly overwhelmed, “It was like I couldn’t breathe like my life-my very soul was separated from me.”

You tried to step away but Robb didn’t relinquish his hold on your waist and moved a hand to keep yours on his chest.

“You’ve absolutely ruined me,” he hissed tightening the grip on your wrist, “do you think I wanted to come back? Do you think I want to be here right now?”

“Let go of me,” you gasped struggling against him your face heated with indignation.

For a second the confidence and malice in Robb’s voice faltered, “stay- do not leave me where I cannot find you!”

“But I didn’t go anywhere,” you insisted, “I’ve been right here doing what I was hired to do.” You were trembling, no longer trying to escape his embrace yet not entirely afraid.

Robb laughed darkly and kissed the top of your head, “you’ve bewitched me body and soul, like some heathen wretch. You pulled me back here. You command me when I have no desire to be commanded.”

He moved to grip your jaw and turn your face to look up into his, the image was striking. You looked spent, as if he’d taken you- your body warm and trembling against him, your breaths shallow and rushed.

“If you left this room I would find you,” he whispered his voice low and heady, sending a shiver down your spine. “If you tried to leave this house I’d track you down.”

“Sir, you forget yourself,” you said lowly. Your voice threatening to break as your body responded wantonly.

“Do I?” He laughed darkly and moved to kiss down the column of your neck pulling phantom moans from your lips. His breath fell warm on your neck and you shuddered as his hand released your jaw and traveled to rest at the base of your neck.

You heard him kick the door closed behind you and a new spark of excitement and fear spread through your body.

The slight pressure at the base of your neck made you ache deliciously. You didn’t stop the strangled moan that fell from your lips as his grip tightened and you chose to put whatever doubts you had away for the moment. You wanted it to be you and him without context or strings to complicate what you were about to do.

Robb released you only to tear at your clothes, his hands running harshly over each flash of newly exposed skin until the locket around your neck was the only thing you wore. You wantonly returned the favor scraping your nails across his broad shoulders, savoring each groan that slipped from his lips.

You pressed yourself against him, your bodies skin-to-skin as the tension grew. Each touch was dizzying as if your bodies had been molded to respond to each other. His mouth claimed yours again before biting his way down your neck and you moaned as they bloomed into warm bruises.

“Robb please,” you begged your body no longer content with lingering touches and harsh passes of lips and teeth. You said his name like it was the only prayer you ever learned- the only one that mattered.

Almost tenderly he laid you down across one of the study’s couches. His fingers softly traced the side of your body as if for that second he was truly in awe of your form. He ducked his head to kiss your chest, your locket falling back against your shoulder sending a flash of light across your body.

You impatiently reached and pulled him over you, weaving a hand through his hair as you moved him into a searing kiss. You felt him against you and you desperately hooked one of your legs around his hip urging him forward until nothing separated you.

You lay trembling under him, your grip on his shoulders the only real thing in the world until a ferocious rapping started at the closed door. You both froze hoping whoever it was would move on, instead, you could hear the Housekeeper muttering to herself as the knocking continued.

Finally, she called through the door, “Lady Arya has requested your presence for tea.”

Robb swore and pushed away from you hastily donning his clothes.

“Fuck,” you mumbled grasping wildly to cover yourself as Robb stormed from the room shouting at the Housekeeper the entire time.

Without looking at you she slid into the room, keeping herself turned away as you redressed.

“I do not apologize for the intrusion given the improper extenuating circumstances,” she said tersely, “but we will be taking tea alone as soon as you’re no longer... indisposed.”

“I see no reason why we should take tea alone,” you protested, “Arya would certainly fear something was amiss given our absence.”

She spun to face you her face still composed into a stern line, “it is precisely for Arya’s sake that I am concerned.” You had never heard her voice like that before and suddenly you felt like you were a child again being scolded at primary school without companions to defend you.

It was a trap; that was the only thing you were certain of as you sat across the wisened Housekeeper a pristine tea set between you.

“You are aware Mister Stark is our employer,” she said with a terse smile.

“Yes Ma’am I do.”

The older woman across from you pursed her lips and took a measured sip of her tea. “This has happened before,” she started quietly, “you don’t know what you’re getting into. He is too stern for grace, an unreclaimed creature.”

“He's more myself than I am,” you whispered harshly unable to meet the Housekeeper’s eyes.

“You will ruin this house if you stay,” she hissed reaching across the table to grip your arm. “There will be no going back if you give into him, think of Arya...”

You remembered the darkness behind his eyes, the harsh grip of his hands on your hips, and knew she was just as correct as you were- despite that you could feel the familiar tug in your heart that connected you and knew you couldn’t leave.

Of course, she had seen this passion play before. The ending was known to her, it was written on the estate’s walls plainly for everyone but you and your charge who hoped beyond measure for the happy ending that would not be coming.

Robb spent the next thirteen months within the claustrophobic walls of his grand estate, his venomous temper directed at everyone when they felt too restrictive. But he couldn’t fathom leaving with you there and unclaimed, unwatched, and unprotected.

Your frenzied romance and rushed engagement distracted you to no end. By the time you realized something was wrong your face refused to hold any color, and your entire body ached with pain and fever. The first time he left the estate grounds was to fetch your doctor. But, in essence, it was too late.

“Robb,” you called reaching for him. You struggled to breathe and the contented sigh on your lips disfigured itself into a ghastly groan that made your lover weep.

Your locket dangled from his hands like a rosary and you wondered if that strange blasphemous reverence played a part in this destruction.

Neither the leeches placed along the curve of your hip nor the soft drops of blood let from your arm could prevent the advancing cold that spread in your veins and eventually closed your eyes.

Your strangled coughs stopped, the air in your lungs ran cold and your blood stopped running altogether. The thin red lines flowing from your lips and skin dried and all at once, the bloody affair was over. There was no fanfare, the world didn’t end. Winterfell and her Master remained as they had for the last forty years and would for forty more without you. Nestled into the sparse and desolate countryside your ghost couldn’t even be tempted forth for comfort.

[justforbooks]

Sean Connery, Oscar Winner and James Bond Star, Dies at 90

Sean Connery, the Scottish-born actor who rocketed to fame as James Bond and became one of the franchise’s most popular and enduring international stars, has died. He was 90.

Connery, long regarded as one of the best actors to have portrayed the iconic spy, was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II in 2000 and marked his 90th birthday in August. His death was confirmed by his family, according to the BBC, which notes that the actor died in his sleep while in the Bahamas. It’s believed he had been unwell for some time. His last acting role had been in Stephen Norrington’s “The League of Extraordinary Gentleman” (2003).

Connery was an audience favorite for more than 40 years and one of the screen’s most reliable and distinctive leading men. The actor was recently voted the best James Bond actor in an August Radio Times poll in the U.K. More than 14,000 voted and Connery claimed 56% of the vote. Global tributes poured in for Connery on Saturday following news of his death.

In a statement, Bond producers Michael G. Wilson and Barbara Broccoli said Connery “was and shall always be remembered as the original James Bond whose indelible entrance into cinema history began when he announced those unforgettable words, ‘The name’s Bond… James Bond.’

“He revolutionized the world with his gritty and witty portrayal of the sexy and charismatic secret agent. He is undoubtedly largely responsible for the success of the film series and we shall be forever grateful to him,” said the producers.

However, Connery — who made his debut in the first Bond film, “Dr. No” (1962) — also transcended Ian Fleming’s sexy Agent 007, and went on to distinguish himself with a long and mature career in such films as “The Wind and the Lion” (1975), “The Man Who Would Be King” (1975) and “Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade” (1989).

His turn as a tough Irish cop in Depression-era Chicago in Brian De Palma’s “The Untouchables” (1987) brought him a supporting actor Oscar.

Even as he entered his seventh decade, Connery’s star power remained so strong that he was constantly in demand and handsomely remunerated. In 1999 he was selected People magazine’s Sexiest Man of the Century, and from his 007 days to “Entrapment” (1999), opposite the much-younger Catherine Zeta-Jones, his screen roles more than justified the choice. Age seemed only to intensify his sex appeal and virility.

In his early career, his physique was his main asset as he modeled and picked up acting jobs where he could. In 1956, he landed the role of a battered prizefighter in the BBC production of “Requiem for a Heavyweight.” Good notices brought him to the attention of the entertainment community, and his first film was “No Road Back,” a B crime movie in 1956. He seemed doomed to play the hunk to ageing leading ladies, as he did opposite Lana Turner in “Another Time, Another Place,” or roles that stressed his looks such as “Tarzan’s Great Adventure” in 1959.

It was easy to dismiss him in films like “Darby O’Gill and the Little People,” but his Count Vronsky to Claire Bloom’s Anna Karenina on the BBC brought him some respect and the kind of attention needed to raise him to the top of the Daily Express’ poll of readers asked to suggest the ideal James Bond.

After an interview with producers Albert Broccoli and Harry Saltzman, he landed the role without a screen test, according to Saltzman. It was a controversial choice at the time, as Connery was an unknown outside Britain. But 1962’s “Dr. No,” the first of the Bond films, made him an international star.

His stature grew with the ever more popular sequels “From Russia With Love,” “Goldfinger” and “Thunderball,” which arrived over the next four years. Bond gave Connery a license to earn; he was paid only $30,000 for “Dr. No” but $400,000 for Alfred Hitchcock’s “Marnie” and was soon getting $750,000 a film.

His initial efforts to break out of the Bond mold, however, proved fruitless. Films like “A Fine Madness,” “Shalako” and “The Molly Maguires” were well-intentioned attempts that did nothing to shake Connery as Bond from the public consciousness. After 1967’s “You Only Live Twice,” he left the Bond franchise, but he was coaxed back for 1971’s “Diamonds Are Forever.” He looked old for the role, and the series seemed tired, so with that, he left Bond behind — though money would tempt him back once last time in 1983 for “Never Say Never Again.”

He took a major misstep with sci-fi film “Zardoz,” and his career seemed to be foundering.

But he bounced back in 1974 with a supporting role in “Murder on the Orient Express” and the following year with “The Wind and the Lion” and “The Man Who Would Be King,” two bold adventures featuring a mature, salt-and-pepper-bearded Connery. “Robin and Marian” (1976) opposite Audrey Hepburn was not a popular success, but critics embraced it, and the film cemented Connery’s reputation as a versatile, serious screen actor.

In the late 1970s, there were more missteps such as “Meteor,” “A Bridge Too Far” and “Cuba.” But he scored in Terry Gilliam’s “Time Bandits.” It wasn’t until after his last Bond film that his standing as a box office star caught up to his critical reputation, thanks mostly to two huge worldwide hits: “Highlander,” which was not a big hit in the U.S., and “The Name of the Rose,” which was also much more popular abroad.

BAFTA gave him a best actor award for “Name of the Rose,” and he received his Oscar for “The Untouchables.” After that, he was an instant greenlight any time he agreed to take a role even if some of them, such as “The Presidio,” and “Family Business,” were not so hot.

Pairing Connery and Harrison Ford as father and son in the third “Indiana Jones” film was an inspired move, and the film grossed almost half a billion dollars worldwide.

Meanwhile, “The Hunt for Red October,” in which Connery played a defecting Soviet sub captain, was also a major hit in 1990.

By the 1990s, he was so popular that his uncredited cameo as King Richard in “Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves” became one of the film’s highlights.

He was still a force to contend with in the foreign market, as “Highlander 2,” “Medicine Man,” “Rising Sun,” “Just Cause” and “First Knight” proved over the next several years. His salary was regularly $5 million and above.

One setback was a bout with throat cancer in the early 1990s, but Connery rebounded with a burst of activity. He starred with Nicolas Cage in 1996 actioner “The Rock,” playing a character that drew more than a little on his history as James Bond. In 2000, he essayed a very different role and received positive reviews for “Finding Forrester,” playing a reclusive writer who bonds with a young black basketball player who’s an aspiring scribe himself.

Nevertheless, he continued with action roles well after his 70th birthday, playing the legendary adventurer Allan Quatermain in 2003’s “The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.” He announced his retirement in 2005. He voiced a James Bond videogame the same year, and he subsequently did some other voice acting, playing the title character in the animated short “Sir Billi the Vet” and reprising the role in 2010 for “Sir Billi,” which he also exec produced.

Thomas Sean Connery was born of Irish ancestry in the slums of Edinburgh on Aug. 25, 1930. Poverty robbed him of an education, and by his teens he’d left school and was working as an unskilled laborer.

At 17, he was drafted into the Royal Navy, but he was discharged three years later due to a serious case of ulcers.

He returned to Edinburgh and worked a variety of jobs, including as a lifeguard. He took up bodybuilding and placed third in the 1950 Mr. Universe competition.

After moving to London, he learned of an opening in the chorus of “South Pacific.” He took a crash dancing and singing course and, surprisingly, landed the role, in which he stayed for 18 months. He was “hooked,” he said, but spent several years paying his dues in small repertory companies in and around London before anyone else became hooked on him.

Connery was devoted to his native Scotland and used his stature to press for the re-establishment of a Scottish parliament. When the body reconvened in 1999, 296 years after its last meeting, Connery was invited to address the first session, where he was greeted with a thunderous ovation. The next year, when he was knighted by Queen Elizabeth II — an honor he called “one of the proudest days of my life” — he asked that the investiture be performed in Edinburgh.

Connery published his autobiography, “Being a Scot,” co-written with Murray Grigor, in 2008. Besides his knighthood and his Academy Award, he received many kudos over his long career, including the Kennedy Center Honors in 1999 and the American Film Institute’s lifetime achievement award in 2006.

Connery was married to actress Diane Cilento from 1962-73. The couple divorced in 1973 and Cilento died in 2011. Connery is survived by his second wife, painter Micheline Roquebrune, whom he married in 1975; his son by Cilento, actor Jason Connery; and a grandson from Jason’s marriage to actress Mia Sara.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com

[thegoodprincess]

Together We Are Apart, but Apart We Are Together | KTH Ch. 2

Author: thegoodprincess

Pairing: Kim Taehyung | Original Female Character

Genre: romance, fantasy, action, forbidden love, human KTH | angel of death OC, supernatural au

Word Count: 2.1k [series, ongoing]

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of violence [a stabbing occurs]

Summary: After admiring a handsome boy from afar, an Angel of Death reluctantly rescues him from his own demise. As a result of going against her better judgment she inadvertently invites him into her world.

(I recommend listening to this song while reading)

Together We are Apart, but Apart We Are Together

Chapter 2. Fate

“Fate has a funny way of intervening in people’s lives.” ― Katie Ashley

It was a few months later in the dead of winter when I was walking near the Han River. Due to the icy temperatures the river was partially frozen. The ground surrounding it was coated in a fresh blanket of snow that came down earlier in the day. A chilly breeze nipped at the tender flesh of my cheek, causing an involuntary shiver to rake down my spine.

Sighing out my condensed breath formed a cloud that mingled with the crisp air. I glanced up at the sky. Overhead the pale moon glowed bright, illuminating the night sky against the backdrop of countless glittery stars. Looking around I stood alone admiring the the way the shadows created by the city lights flitted across the pavement. It was quiet, not eerily so, but in a way that emphasized the bare stillness of wintertime. Most people were at home presumably getting ready to go to sleep as it was fairly late.

I was waiting for my next patron to arrive: a man who was going to be murdered during a robbery gone wrong. This was a common occurrence for me. I was one of many angels of death. I was not a malevolent force. I did not decide who lived and who died, and how the act itself was carried out. I simply collected the souls of the fallen and escorted them to the afterlife.

It was bittersweet condoling the newly deceased once they realized their predicament. I would allow them to say their last goodbyes to loved ones and others they deemed fit before they departed into the light. But it was harrowing having to witness death first hand and being strictly forbid from interfering.

I had seen countless people perish a variety of ways. I had seen it all from natural deaths having to do with diseases or natural processes like aging, to accidental deaths like car fatalities. Suicides and homicides were some of the worst. While death was inevitable, loss of life done by the hands of oneself or by another wasn’t. There always lied a choice, humans just choose to be masters of their own and sometimes other’s destinies.

While I was a creation of purity, I had been become well acquainted with grief. It was almost as if I was stuck in an endless cycle; each time the metaphorical wound was healed it was being habitually ripped open. In the grand scheme of things it was woefully the one major downside of the duty. Tonight would be no different. I would again begrudgingly be a bystander to yet another fateful demise.

As if on cue an older man adorn in designer clothing came into view, walking cautiously with shifting eyes assessing his surroundings. His shoulders were tensed and his pace was quick as he shuffled across the sidewalk. He looked genuinely frightened as if he was paranoid that someone was following him, and I guess he wasn’t wrong.

Then seemingly from the shadows a man wearing a black ski mask and gloves appeared from behind some foliage. He snuck up and roughly grabbed the older gentleman from behind with gloved hands, startling him.

The two men fought for a short while until the masked man managed to get his forearm around the older gentleman’s neck. He began to strangle him. However, I don’t think the masked man’s intent was to maliciously murder him. Rather he was meaning to strangle the older man to the point of him passing out. This would ensure that the masked man could steal his wallet without the risk of being followed and potentially caught.

But nevertheless, the masked man exerted lethal pressure for way longer than necessary to the elder’s neck. The older man’s knees began to buckle and his struggling became less erratic. Regardless of the older gentleman involuntarily becoming compliant, the masked man had yet to let up his hold on him. The older gentleman’s arms dangled limply at his sides. He was dying.

Just then a third party came into view. I was bewildered as I wasn’t expecting anyone else to show up. A young man with a bag slung over his shoulder was inching closer and closer, until his face came into view. He seemed vaguely familiar, the distance between us was making it hard to distinguish certain features.

Then almost instantly I recognized him. It was the boy whose face I had found to be bewitching. He was indelibly engrained into my memory. While I had stopped secretly hoping to catch a serendipitous glimpse of him when I was out, there hadn’t been a day that went by where I didn’t wonder what he was doing, who he was with, or if he even frequented the same places.

He still looked the same dressed smartly in a white turtleneck, tan trousers, wool trench coat, and tartan print scarf. It was apparent that the overcast winter weather had subtly lightened his complexion by a few shades. The only significant difference about him was his hair. His once dark locks had been dyed to a golden blonde hue. In addition to the new color, the parting of his hair now showcased his entire forehead.

Regardless of the butterflies that had erupted in my abdomen from seeing him again, the feeling dissipated all too soon as my stomach sunk. There had never been a greater time where I wished he hadn’t show up, especially considering the circumstances of this situation.

He wasn’t supposed to be here.

My veins ran cold, as if the very ice water of the river before us, coursed through them. Every hair on the back of my neck rose on end. I silently prayed he would turn around back in the direction he came from and not involved himself. But I was sorely mistaken. He stopped in his tracks, witnessing the killing of the elder. Swiftly dropping his bag, he ran over to help.

What ensued caused me to let out an audible gasp. The boy threw a hard punch and was able to stun the masked man momentarily, as the criminal fell to the ground. Assuming the masked man to be knocked out, the boy then attempted to help the older man who fell to his knees gasping for breath. Crouching down, the boy pulled out his phone to call for an ambulance. But his attempt was short lived.

Rising from his place on the ground a bit disoriented, the robber fumbled around in his front coat pocket and hastily pulled out a small pistol rashly pointing it at the pair with a quivering hand. The older gentleman cowered low behind the younger boy, almost as if he was using him as a shield. The boy’s arms immediately came up to surrender, remaining perfectly still. The gunman agitated at the boy’s heroics fixed his aim directly to the boy’s chest. He was purposely planning to deliver a fatal shot to his heart. All to quickly the gun shot’s sound reverberated off the concrete. I could only watch in horror.

In that moment the world seemed to turn upside down. My mind was reeling. I felt dizzy, bile crept up into my throat while all I felt was I was my heart slamming against my ribcage. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the bullet exited the barrel of the gun. Naturally the boy screwed his eyes shut while he tensed his entire body, bracing himself for the inevitable impact. A second later he flinched backwards.

Shortly after the deafening crack of the bullet penetrated my eardrums, I squinted my eyes to check where the boy had been shot. To my relief the middle of his chest was still intact, but a bright red substance began to slowly spread from his shoulder region and seep down into the area where his heart lay beating. The gunman had indeed missed his intended target, and instead shot clean through the boy’s left shoulder. The boy’s facial expression twisted into a state of confusion, shocked at what had just occurred. I assumed the adrenaline numbed his senses, altering his frame of mind.

The older gentlemen looked like he wanted to help but he remained unmoving still afraid to come out from behind the boy. The gunman tried to shoot again but to some miracle his trigger jammed. Seeing this as an opportunity to escape, the older man quickly abandoned the boy, scurrying off without looking back. But the boy was too weak to follow, he remained holding his shoulder nearly doubled over. The pain was beginning to set in.

In an effort to make due with the boy, the gunman reached into his interior coat pocket to withdraw his hand holding an odd black object. It was revealed to be a switchblade when he subtlety flicked his wrist and the blade sprung out. Since the older man escaped on the boy’s behalf, the masked man felt it was only fair the boy be robbed instead. The boy assessing the situation held out one of his hands as if to plead for mercy. A pained grimace painted his pretty face.

Then I saw the boy’s lips begin to move. The two appeared to be exchanging words. I felt petrified, so I couldn’t make out what they were saying. Their voices came out distorted, sounding more like unintelligible mumbles than any actual language. It was as though they were talking underwater.

In a last ditch attempt to save himself from further harm, I saw the boy slowly reach into his back pocket with his good hand and pull out his wallet. He dangled the wallet in front him to show the criminal before he chucked it into the snow at the criminal’s feet, hoping this would satisfy the man.

The man hastily grabbed the wallet off the ground and excitedly opened it to reveal its contents. But his smile soon faltered, boiling anger brewing in his eyes instead.

Originally it seemed he didn’t intended to stab the boy after already shooting him in a fit of blind rage, the knife was just the extra assurance he needed to intimidate the boy into cooperating. But the boy stuck his nose in business that didn’t concern him and ultimately costed the masked man.

Not only did the boy escalate the situation and cause the victim he purposely targeted to get away, but the masked man wasted time and energy grappling with the boy which increased the likelihood of him being seen and or arrested by the authorities. He went through all that troublesome effort and for what? Some chump change he could have easily pickpocketed off someone on the subway. He was throughly pissed.

The criminal was going to teach the boy a lesson. Taking the measly amount of bills out, he hurled what remained of the wallet back into the snow. He stalked closer to the boy ready to attack with a sadistic smirk.

Slowly the boy began taking small steps backwards subconsciously putting distance between him and the impending danger. Unfortunately he was unknowingly inching closer to the water.

But all hell broke loose when the boy accidentally slipped on some dangerously slick ice that caused him to lose his balance. He then clumsily stumbled backwards and plunged into the frigid water of the river, breaking through the ice in the process.

The gunman realizing the gravity of the situation, almost instantly snapped out of his aggressive trance-like state and stood there with a blank expression. It was then that he began to visibly panic, nervously looking around to see if anyone else had witnessed what had just happened. He apprehensively neared the edge of the river and looked as though he was debating whether to help the boy or not. But he knew if he did, it would only further incriminate him.

Deciding to conceal his involvement in tonight’s events, he plucked the jammed gun and wallet from the snow and hurriedly planted the two respective items by the river’s edge.

The gunman made it appear as though the boy had committed suicide by first shooting himself and then falling into the river. He subsequently raked his feet sloppily over the snow in a back and forth motion to disguise his shoe prints. Once he was pleased enough with his work, he bolted off fleeing the scene.

Quickly wrenching myself from my deep stupor, I rushed over without taking a second to assess the severity of my actions and immediately jumped in to rescue the boy.

[quirklove]

May I request some headcanons with Mr. Compress and a younger reader? Not like underage, but like early 20s. Maybe it’s her first relationship with an older gentleman or something like that.

oh my heart????

I love him so much he’s good boy

ATSUHIRO

It’s at his insistence that you take things rather slow. He’s probably at least ten years older than you are, if not more than that. Not that he ever would do anything unsavory with regard to you, but he’s the first to acknowledge that there’s a bit of a power imbalance in the relationship. He has a little more life experience than you do, you’ve led vastly different lives in general, and above all else he wants you to feel comfortable. Rushing things in a romance without such an age gap often leads to problems, so the last thing he wants to do is compound the age gap with another potential issue.

He’s a true romantic! He’s always surprising you with sweet gestures. Whether it’s pulling a flower from his sleeve to give you, or having your favorite snack on hand to ‘magically’ pull from his pocket, or shifting his mask just slightly to press a long, soft kiss to the back of your hand, he never fails to make the right move.

Will never really understand what you see in him. Yes, he knows he’s quite a catch, sure! He’s distinguished and a first-rate entertainer, with a powerful Quirk and an attractive face, who possesses an air of mystery so that you have to figure him out one piece at a time like a damn jigsaw puzzle. However… there must be gentlemen around your age that have those qualities, too. Why go for someone who’s significantly older rather than someone in your own peer group? It seems he has things to figure out about you, too!

Because he often hides his entire face as well as the majority of his most identifying features, it’s vastly easier for him to take you on dates in public than it would be for any of the other League’s members to do so with their S/O. The most iconic non-visual thing about him is his voice, which isn’t difficult for him to disguise while he’s out ― his voice being recognizable mainly has to do with the fact that he’s usually exaggerating it. So he can take you out for, say, a nice dinner or a walk in the park without being too worried that he’ll be noticed. His favorite is the walk in the park, if only so he can walk past street performers and slip them a few yen to play a song he can dance with you to. The man’s middle name really ought to be Smooth.

To that note, he adores those quiet moments when he can put on some music in the bar, courtesy of Kurogiri, and dance with you. It’s a kind of lazy but coordinated thing, with his arms firmly around your waist, pressing your back up against his chest, frequently nuzzling his face into your neck or cheek. He’ll sing softly along, whispering lyrics into your ear as he sways you side to side. “You’ll never know how many dreams I dreamed about you…” One hand lifting to run through your hair. “Or just how empty they all seemed without you…” And those fingers slip back down, tracing the length from your shoulder to your hand. “So kiss me once…” A pair of gentle lips on your cheek. “And kiss me twice…” Then to your forehead. “And kiss me once again…” Pressed fiercely and tenderly against your neck, he seems to kiss you as if he thinks he’ll never see you again. “It’s been a long, long time…”

He refuses, refuses, to take you on any kind of business that involves their missions unless you’re actually a member of the League. You’re a villain or vigilante who hasn’t joined the League and/or may be affiliated with other groups? Sorry, sweetheart, it’s still a no-go even though you can no doubt defend yourself. You’re a hero who has somehow fallen into a star-crossed love with him and just wants to be there to make sure nothing goes wrong? Ah, it’s all so romantic, but he can’t risk bringing you along to work that’s strictly villainous. You’re a civilian with no ties or heroism or villainy and you want to support him in any way you can? Especially not then, because you have no training and could be hurt. You’re very welcome to come patch him up afterward if he gets hurt, though.

The biggest thing he frets over is because you don’t have experience with dating someone older, and indeed you may not have much experience with dating in general, and he doesn’t have a lot of experience with dating someone younger, there might be mistakes that the two of you make simply because you don’t know how to navigate this kind of relationship. That scares him. For all his faults, he does truly love you and care for you. He doesn’t want something to screw this up and lead to him losing you. It may result in overcompensating on his part, which is arguably worse than any other ‘mistake’ he could have made in the first place. He’s certainly going to be asking some of the other members for advice.

[someedudethatexistss]

Okay, so this is the story I was talking about earlier!

PROLOGUE:

What did I ever do to deserve this.

I don’t want it to end this way.

I’ve had a horrible life. I just wanted something nice for once. I was going to start a family. 

I don’t wanna die.

I don’t wanna die.

I don’t wanna die.

I don’t wanna die.

I don’t wanna die.

I don’t wanna die.

I don’t wanna die.

I don’t wanna die.

No… NO! NO PLEASE NO!

LET ME LIVE!

CHAPTER 1:

“He was found dead, in an alley. He had a hole in his chest and you could see his heart, which had been stabbed. The machete was left behind, you’ll have to go check for anything else that could’ve been left behind.” I don’t wanna go. I was drinking last night and I have a huge hangover. But, work is work, I’ll have to go. “Alright, Miss. Thank you for informing me.”

My name is Alan Brooks. I’m a detective. This case is about the death of a wealthy man  ,Jackson McBriant.

The second I got to the crime scene I had to look to the side so I wouldn’t vomit. The victim’s chest was ripped open, his heart was perfectly visible. I was not ready. Now that I think of it, this could be symbolism. From all my experience, this would be very uncommonly not symbolism. 

It’s his heart. And it is very literally “broken”. Could this be… He might’ve rejected someone.

That someone could have killed him.

CHAPTER 2: 

“Sir, we gathered a few suspects that are close to him. There’s also a witness who heard the screams and went to check the alley.”

“Thank you, please bring the witness here.”

“Of course.”

The witness was a middle aged-man, looked quite normal. No distinguishing features.

“ Hello Mr Rees, pleasure meeting you.” Not really.

“Same here.”

“So, what did you see or hear happen?”

“I...I was walking home, it was around 11 at night. I suddenly heard a blood-curdling scream. I was stuck in place for a second. It was coming from the alley (no sh*t) and I saw the killer. They were pretty tall and were wearing all black. I couldn’t see their hair. They realised I was there and dropped the weapon and ran at an inhumane speed. I fell to the floor and when I looked back, they were gone.”

“ Interesting, is there anything else? Did you hear their voice? Is there any way to know if they were male or female?”

“ No, they hid everything perfectly and not a single sound came from them.”

“ Alright, thank you for the information. You are free to leave.”

“ Okay. Goodbye”

CHAPTER 3:

The suspects were 5 people but ,thanks to the witness, there are now three. Two men and one woman. One of them is the victim’s brother, he is an anti-social man and only ever spoke to his brother. His name is Jonathan McBriant. He looked devastated when the news got to him.

The second man was the victim’s boyfriend. He had a horrified look on his face and could barely keep himself together. His name is Royall Whittaker. The last subject is a woman. She had been rejected by the victim and never forgave him. Her name is Annabelle Leroy. She looked confused and a bit… glad that he had died.

They were all interrogated about where they when the crime took place.

His brother was at home, sleeping. This was confirmed by his neighbours.

His boyfriend was at work, he had to work late.

Annabelle was at work too, this was confirmed by her boss.

CHAPTER 4:

“I’m sorry, I can’t go today. I’m in the middle of an important investigation. I have a lot of work to do. Bye.” My friend was calling, what a bother. Does he think I don’t have a life apart from drinking with him? Well, it’s time to go to the victim’s home to see if anything could indicate who killed him.

When we arrived, it looked… abandoned. Even though the victim had been living there for quite some time now, it looked sad and lonely. It was very clean and had no sign of disruptions. In his bedroom, I found a small pouch. It was full to the brim of a white substance. Could this be cocaine? I smirked. Even this guy, who tried so hard to be a man of respect and no wrong-doings had his secrets. 

One of the cupboards was locked, all the others weren’t. They didn’t have anything interesting inside them. Why is this one locked? Would there be more drugs? A gun? 

Surprisingly, there was an old looking book. I opened it. It's a diary. I started reading a bit. I’ll have to take it with me and fully examine it. 

When I finished reading it, I was surprised. He had led a horrible life in his childhood. But that wasn’t what surprised me the most. His brother, according to the diary, had been very distant  these past months. He had been the most distant ever, on the night before his murder.

CHAPTER 5:

“I’ll have to go question Jonathan over the reason they were so distant all of a sudden. Is that okay with you, Miss?” I can’t wait until that old hag dies and stops being so controlling over what I can and can’t do in this investigation. “ Alright, but tell me when you finished.” I nodded.

“ Could you care to explain why you were so distant from your brother these past months?”

“ How do YOU know that, Mr Detective?”

“ Don’t answer my questions with more questions, McBriant. Why.Were.You.So.Distant?”

“ We had a small fight and didn’t make up. I regret not making up now.”

“ It didn’t say anything about that in his diary.”

“ He has a diary? Why wouldn’t he tell me that he had a diary?”

“ Look, everybody has their personal lives and he didn’t have to say anything about that to you.”

“ But he’s my brother! We used to tell eachother everything! I can’t believe this, why would he-”

“ Look, McBriant. That isn’t important now. Your brother is DEAD. You have to cooperate in this or the killer will NOT be found and justice WON'T be served. Do you understand?”

“ Yes… But, I feel betrayed and alone and… can I have a break outside? I really cannot answer any questions in this state of mind.”

“ Sure, I guess. Don’t take too long.”

“ Thanks.”

The audacity of this little brat. How dare he try to make that discussion all about HIM?! If he won’t cooperate in the investigation, I’ll declare him as guilty and let him rot in jail!

“ I’m back. Sorry for the wait.” Jonathan ran in and quickly sat down.

“ It’s no problem.” It is a problem. A huge problem and I am annoyed to say the least.

About an hour later, I finished asking him everything needed. He was being very irritating and making me very hot-headed. He barely helped and I am sure that he is hiding something. “ Well, I’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”

“ Goodbye, McBriant.” As he went outside, he brushed my shoulder.

He. Brushed. My. Shoulder.

This kid has brushed MY shoulder. There was enough space for him to NOT touch me. He has been annoying me all day. He did NOT cooperate with me almost at all, and he says he was sad because his brother died?! If he was actually sad, he would be helping me ! I can’t take this. I turned around, looked him straight in the eyes and punched him square in the face as hard as possible. “ Hey, what the hell was that for?!?”

“ You haven’t been of any help ALL day and have the AUDACITY to brush my shoulder, like I was nothing! You’ve been annoying all day!” Wow. He looks angry. “ Well what are you gonna do McBriant? Continue on you merry way? Or punch me too? Come on, I dare you. I swear to God that you’re too much of a wuss to do tha-” An excruciating pain erupted in the left side of my face. I looked up at him. “ Why you little-” I kicked him in the stomach and he was left without breath for a second. He looked back up at me. I froze. There was something in the way he looked at me. It made me want to hide in the corner and not look into the outside world ever again, in fear that I would see that thing again. I felt like a mouse quivering in fear whilst a huge anaconda was about to kill and eat me. It was terrifying. He pushed me to the floor and started stomping my stomach and face over and over again.

 Those horrifying eyes were the last thing I saw before I passed out. 

CHAPTER 6: 

“ What were you thinking? Why would you fight one of the suspects in the middle of an investigation?” I shrugged.

“ It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a good fight. I was annoyed at him and he wouldn’t stop messing around with me.” 

“ You have to improve your childish behaviour. It feels like I’m talking to a pathetic child. Until then, you can’t continue with this investigation. Goodbye, Detective.”

“ Wait, what? You have to be kidding me!”

“ This isn’t a joke, Brooks. Leave now.”

“ Fine, screw all of you! You need me to finish this! I’m the only one capable of doing this!”

“ If you are speaking the truth, Brooks. Then it shall be that way. You will have to become a functioning adult, then you can continue with this.” She opened the door for me and I had no remedy but to go.

This is pathetic. How could I be treated as a mere child? I’m older than that woman! She shouldn’t be treating me this way! I’ll wait a week, then I’ll go back. 

Maybe I can go drinking with my friend.

CHAPTER 7: 

I got to the bar and ordered a beer. Before I got to drink at all, I saw a surprising sight. It was Jonathan McBriant, Annabelle Leroy and Courtney Bailey. That’s strange. They weren’t friends. They didn’t see me. I got up and decided to follow them, before I lost them. They were going to a more secluded part of the bar. Annabelle started talking: “ So gentlemen, how did everything go?” I was very confused. What IS she talking about? My gut tells me that I should record what they are saying. My gut never fails me. I started recording. “ I discovered when the police would go to Jackson’s house and left the pouch full of coke on his bed. They didn’t suspect a thing! They still think that a gang could’ve taken him out! These people are really dumb!” I was surprised. Wasn’t Bailey out of his former gang? I guess he never left… Jonathan started speaking: “ I beat up the detective pretty bad and everybody else in the police department thinks that I was defending myself. Hell no! I was having the time of my life! It was the funniest thing I had seen all week! What about you, Annabelle? What have you done all week?”

“ I have cleared all type of evidence that could point fingers at us being the killers of Jackson McBriant and that means all type of person that could’ve gotten in our way. We will get away with this, gentlemen.” I stopped recording. I got up and left the bar. I didn’t even pay the bill.

When I got home I didn’t even take my clothes off I just jumped on my bed and fell asleep.

Finally, I knew who had done this. 

Jackson can rest in peace.

CHAPTER 8: 

“ I’m back and I know who killed him!”

“ Weren’t you not allowed to continue the investigation?”

“ Look, Miss. Is it really important now? I know who the killer is. That doesn’t matter anymore!”

“ But-”

“ Shush.”

I showed the recordings to the other people working on the case and we arrested the killers. It will be taken to court and I hope that they are given the necessary amount of years in prison to pay for their crimes.

This was honestly one of my most interesting investigations. It was not because of the victim. It was not because how he was killed. It was not because of the suspects.

It was because of the killer’s eyes. Those cold, ghastly eyes. I have not yet seen eyes as horrid and petrifying as those.

And I hope I never will.

THE END

[nobleclover]

Silver Screen Sneak - In!

“What do you mean that I can’t see the new movie, Mom?!” CJ whined, his lips pursed into a sour pout.

             You’re probably wondering as to what movie he is so eager to see yet was forbidden to by his mother, Angel. Well, that movie just so happens to be Psycho, directed by Alfred Hitchcock and released on September 8th 1960 for all the public to witness while simultaneously terrorising themselves. Definitely not a film suitable for a ten year old cup like him.

             “Because you’re too young, you’ll get nightmares and school’s only just started! Now run along and finish your homework!” she ordered him before turning back to the row of oysters she gathered that day to make oyster sauce. As she began cracking them open, she heard her precocious little boy stomp up to the bedroom that he shared with his other three siblings and sighed. She didn’t like having to end a conversation like that, but, as his mother, she had to be firm with him, especially since he wanted to go see a HORROR movie of all things.

             In his room, CJ lied on his back across his bed glaring at the ceiling. He really wanted to see the movie after hearing about it from Sorrel, Cagney and Hilda’s teenaged son while he was learning some gardening. Sure, he knew that he was young, but he would hear of his other friends in school discuss scary TV shows that they were allowed to watch, like The Twilight Zone. He was a bit jealous of not being allowed to watch them like his peers, especially his own cousin Saffron, who was surprisingly into horror despite her demeanour. Even more infuriating, when he asked them for more details, they wouldn’t tell him as they “didn’t want to spoil anything.”

             Turning over, he crossed his arms and muttered, “I’m not that young! I’m practically a big kid! My age has TWO digits now, so that must mean I’m allowed to do more stuff!”

             Just then, a small voice from the doorway asked, “What are you sulking about?”

             Looking up, he saw that it was his older sister, Coral, who had just returned from a day swimming and fishing. He slumped back down on the bed muttering, “Nothing.”

             “Nothin’? Doesn’t look like nothin’! You kinda look like Mr. Flatfoot that swims under that arch near the observatory,” she noted.

             Sighing irritably, he sat up with a dead, sad look in his eyes and explained, “I wanna go see the new horror movie sometime soon, but Mom won’t let me!”

             “Ugh, yeah! You know what she’s like! A total killjoy!” she groaned, before climbing onto the bed.

             “You’re getting my covers wet, Fish Face!” CJ complained.

             “Simmer down, Gill Boy!” she retorted before explaining, “now look, I know that I can be a jerk sometimes, but geez, that look on your mug is just pitiable, and…I want to help you.”

             “Huh, that’s a first, considering that you’re a real narcissist,” he replied dryly.

             “Shut up and listen to me! Now look, you wanna see that movie, right? The one that you keep yappin’ on about? Well, most movies only last around three weeks in the picture house, but really SPECIAL movies like YOUR movie last for about FOUR weeks so that the public can get the chance to see it, at least that’s what I heard from Sugarelle!”

             “Really?!” CJ asked with his eyes sparkling with hope, “so I might get to go see it then! But I also heard that most of the time children should be accompanied by adults when seeing horror movies, so how can I get in?”

             Coral was now stuck for words as she couldn’t think of a good solution for him, and could only utter, “I don’t know…”

 One week later:

After much planning and crafting, CJ finally came up with a brilliant scheme: enter the theatre as a ‘short’ adult! He’d selected what he thought was the perfect disguise, some light brown pants, a grey tweed jacket with a hat, and, the most distinguishing feature that would convince people that he was an adult: a moustache.

             When Saffron and his eldest sister Juni heard of this grand plan, they each uttered the same response, “That’s the best you could come up with?”

             “Well…yeah! It’s not like they’re gonna ask me for ID anyways! They never do, that’s what I heard!”, he awkwardly exclaimed, half hoping that he was right.

             “How do you know they don’t?” Saffron asked, shooting him a skeptical look.

             “Be – because Coral told me! Yeah, she – she did!”

             “Yeah, well knowing her, she thinks she knows everything,” Juni responded, “why can’t you just wait until you’re older to watch a horror movie? I’m also pretty sure that they do reruns a few years after the actual release of some movies!”

             “Well, I wanna see it now and show everyone how well I can handle a few jolts and scares in a dark theatre, and I’ll also be seen as cool for once!” he declared, with a smug grin.

             “It’s okay to admit that you’re a ‘fraidy cat, CJ. I can handle some horror but not ALL of it. Besides, you could –” Saffron added before being cut off.

             “Well, I’m pretty sure that I’m more than a little old enough to watch a movie like Psycho, Saffy! Plus, come Monday morning, I’m gonna be pretty much the talk of the school, but I won’t say much as I don’t wanna spoil it for ya!” he replied arrogantly.

             “Not that you’d have anything to say because you’ll likely be covering your eyes during the scary parts of the movie!” Juni retorted.

             “Oh, SHUT UP!” he yelled, “I don’t need to prove to the likes of you that I can be brave, Juni! Anyways, I’m off to the theatre now and I’ll see you two later!”

             With that, he confidently strode off with the bag containing his disguise in his right hand. Saffron and Juni watched him go, with Juni stating disdainfully, “He’s gonna be screaming for Mom like he always does when he has a night terror.”

             “Well, hopefully that nobody recognises him,” Saffron added.

 Later:

CJ just about made it to the theatre. A huge queue trailed in front of the ticket booth as far as the eye could see, much to his dismay. He hadn’t taken the number of people into consideration, so he’d have to try a different way to get in. As he pondered good and hard on how to enter the theatre easily, he suddenly had an idea.

             As the lanky young man let the next couple in to see a movie, CJ ran up to the booth with a panicked look in his eyes and tapped on the glass. The ticket man looked down upon him and asked in a dreary monotone voice, “How can I help you?”

             “I’m so sorry sir! I really REALLY need to use the bathroom and I need to use it NOW! Can I use the one in the theatre?” CJ asked in a rapid manner.

             “Well…normally, I’d say you’d need a ticket to get in…buuuut…I think that’s cruel especially given the circumstances. Go ahead in,” he drawled.

             With that, CJ rushed into the bathroom and stood on the lavatory seat to put on his disguise when he stopped. He suddenly realised that he forgot the most important thing ever in his grand plan: what theatre was the movie showing in?!

             Just then, he noticed a discarded ticket on the floor of the stall and picked it up. Sure enough, it was for the movie Psycho and it was showing in Theatre 7! How convenient! He beamed. As if it was also a coincidence, the number of the theatre definitely showed his luck! As soon as the gentlemen had exited the bathroom, he quietly slipped out and made his way to Theatre 7. He coyly walked in past the usher and twiddled his fake moustache as he went along.

             Soon enough, he found a nice seat at the top of the theatre’s steps, that had a grand view of the screen. He grinned as he thought of how great his grand plan was going so far. He managed to find a way into the theatre without getting paying for a ticket, he got one for free (off a dirty bathroom floor, but still) and he’s now sitting in a swell seat, ready to watch his first proper horror movie!

             The crowd of people pouring in grew larger as each individual spread out to find available seats in the barely lit theatre. A taller gentleman soon approached the row CJ was sitting in, with a large collection of snacks he’d gathered up from the lobby obscuring his face. He was carrying large sodas, a bag of pretzels, some candy and a large bucket of popcorn. CJ licked his lips under the fake moustache as he saw how delicious the food was. He did have money, but he was sure that if he left the theatre just before the film began, they wouldn’t let him in. Apparently, any cinema that was showing Psycho would not allow anyone else in past the time the movie started. CJ irritably sighed and bitterly thought to himself, Guess I’ll starve then!

             The tall man then set the goodies in the seat beside CJ, further obscuring his face from him. As CJ wondered why a man like him would want this much food for himself, the man suddenly poked his head around the bucket of popcorn to reveal that it was none other than HIS OWN FATHER CUPHEAD!

             Cuphead looked at his disguised son with a smile and said, “I heard this is gonna be a killer thriller! Know what I mean?” followed by a gleeful wink.

             CJ was stunned with fright and could only muster up a little nod of his head so as not to appear rude. He sat back in his seat, his mind flooded with panic. He could only think, Oh my god, oh my god, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD!!!! I’M DEAD MEAT IF HE RECOGNISES ME!! I’LL BE GROUNDED FOR LIFE IF HE --!!!

             Just then, the opening credits flashed on the screen, accompanied by rapid, tense strings with the words having to criss – cross each other to form coherent credits. Everybody braced themselves for what was going to unfold, while CJ was on high alert in case his father was to intercept his disguise.

             As the movie progressed, CJ, much to his dismay, found himself to be extremely bored by this movie. It was nothing but grown – up talk with very little action. Sure, the lady in the film stole a lot of money and took it with her so that she and her boyfriend can live happily ever after, but good lord, was it just coma – inducing. Meanwhile, Cuphead had his eyes glued to the screen, shoving popcorn, pretzels and candy into his mouth and chomping his goodies very loudly.

             The food was so unbearably good that CJ soon heard his stomach growling. Cuphead noticed and whispered, “Hey, old timer! I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t have any concession goods! Wanna share with me?”

             Despite his better judgement, CJ nodded and reached his arm out and received a handful of pretzels. Great, he thought, he’s gonna have to try and make it through the movie without dying of thirst and boredom now.  

             As he munched sparingly on the pretzels, the scene shifted to when the lady and gawky motel owner were having supper in the parlour. It was then that CJ finally began feeling that sense of unease that he’d been waiting for, especially as dark shadows cast over the walls and the owner himself. Finally, some decent tension, he thought.

             Alas, Cuphead had fallen asleep beside him and was snoring like a hippopotamus with asthma. CJ looked at him and softly groaned. His father was always like this after a big meal or a good number of snacks and needless to say, the noise was as ear grating like someone rubbing sandpaper against glass. The young cup tried listening to the dialogue as hard as he could but his father’s snores drowned out whatever noise was coming from the movie.

             Someone else got fed up with Cuphead’s snoring and got the usher up to the row where both cups sat and gently nudged him, jolting him awake. Looking around and stammering, Cuphead looked up at the usher startled and loudly asked, “Did someone die yet?!”

             “No, sir, but someone complained that you’re snoring too loud so that’s why I woke you,” the usher explained.

             Cuphead understood what he said and quietly assured with a smile, “Oh, okay! I’ll keep quiet don’t worry! Thanks for telling me!”

             CJ could feel a laugh welling up but suppressed it. It was truly amusing to see his own father act like a real goofball. Just then, Cuphead turned towards him and whispered, “Hey, old timer! You can have the rest of my snacks okay? Just so that I won’t slip into a food coma again! Sound good?”

             CJ nodded and gladly accepted the food between him and his father. He was pretty satisfied that he got free food and for the first time since his father sat down, he felt like he could relax and enjoy the film properly now.

             The film kept going and reached the infamous shower scene. Everybody, not just little CJ and his father, felt chills going down their spine once they noticed the door behind the shower curtain open followed by a blurry figure approaching closer. Soon enough, the entire theatre erupted into screams once the curtain was pulled back to reveal a seemingly old woman who’s face was obscured in shadows. Then, accompanied by shrill violin strings, everybody jumped and hollered in fright as the poor young woman met her demise. CJ’s eyes were fixed onto the screen in complete horror, while his dad gave out the occasional horrified yelp and gasp. The terrified boy suppressed the urge to scream as he was afraid of being discovered given his young sounding voice.

             Cuphead caught his breath and looked towards CJ and whispered, “JEEZ LOUISE! I wasn’t expecting that! Still, you’re definitely pretty brave sitting through a picture like this!”

             CJ nodded and gave a little thumbs up, still trembling quietly.

             The rest of the movie continued as the characters worked on solving the mystery as to what happened to the young lady with the money. Even with the scenes with a lot of talking, poor CJ was still shaken following the shower scene, and it certainly didn’t help when the private investigator turned up dead or when they found the skeleton in the basement. At long last, once the whole movie was brought to a close, everybody got up and walked home.

             CJ waited for Cuphead to move who was stacking all the disused food buckets, boxes and cups to dispose of them outside. Finally, the older cup got up and made his way down the steps. CJ trailed along after him, only to trip on a step and soon tumbled into Cuphead’s leg, knocking him down like a bowling pin.

             Cuphead looked at the mess around them and uttered, “Aww heck!” before going to clean it up. CJ stood up and realised to his horror that his moustache had fallen off. While Cuphead was picking up an empty soda cup, CJ scanned the steps quickly for his moustache, which thankfully had fallen down two steps ahead of him. He quickly grabbed it and stuck it back on his face before his father could notice.

             Cuphead was still gathering the discarded cardboard rubbish when CJ lent him a hand by carrying some of it to lighten the load for his father. When Cuphead took note of this kind gesture, he responded with, “Gee, thanks, sir! That’s really helpful of you!”

             CJ smile and responded as deeply as he could with a “Mmm – hmm!”

             Cuphead smiled back and headed down the stairs with some of the rubbish and began rambling on about the film as well as how scary it was, even noting, “Oh, man, if my youngest boy was there, poor kid would have nightmares for life! Kid ain’t missing anything!”

             This statement made CJ feel a little guilty, but also somewhat amused. While he did indeed sneak into the theatre without really paying and basically deceived his own father, he was honestly impressed that he was never found out. One could even say that he was even proud of having kept up the charade for this long with Cuphead.

             After discarding the last bit of rubbish, both of them stepped out of the theatre to find that the sun was still bright. Cuphead gave his stiff arms a little stretch before turning to his son and declared, “Well, I better hit the road. It was nice watching the film next to ya, old timer! Take care!”

             CJ gave his father a wave and, again in a deep voice, responded with, “You too, Dad!”

             To his alarm, he realised his error and before he could even move his father whipped his head around and walked over to him, echoing the last parting word in confusion, “Dad?”

             As if it wasn’t already humiliating enough, the moustache dropped off his face and was blown away by a small breeze. CJ watched it blow away before turning to his cross father and asking with a nervous laugh, “That was indeed a killer thriller, huh, Dad..?”

 Epilogue:

             Saffron was sitting on a bench in school eating lunch when CJ collapsed in the seat beside her, with puffy tired eyes heavier than lead. She was gobsmacked at how half - dead her cousin looked and asked, “Whoa, what the heck happened to you?”

             “Psycho happened.”

             “Oof,” she replied, feeling very sorry for him, “well, like I said before, it’s okay to admit you’re a bit of a ‘fraidy cat, cousin. Horror isn’t for everybody.”

             Dejectedly, CJ paused and uttered, “Yeah, you’re right. Still, it’s one thing to be grounded for two months for disobeying my Mom, it’s another when all your other siblings look at you weirdly when they hear how you EXACTLY got found out! Juni laughed at me for a whole hour when Dad explained what happened! Still, at least Coral was a bit supportive, though.”

             “Sorry to hear that, pal,” she empathised, patting his shoulder supportively.

             “It’s fine. I still wish I wasn’t too much of a ‘fraidy cat, mind you,” he sighed.

             Saffron suddenly got an idea and suggested, “Well, maybe when your grounding is over, you can sleepover at my place and I’ll get you into the Twilight Zone. I don’t think it’s scary as Psycho but I think it’s a good start for getting into horror without being too traumatised.”

             CJ thought for a moment and replied smiling, “I’ll consider it. Thanks!”  

             “No problem!”

 The End

[crystalwillow]

Friendbound

Hello my loves! I just wanted to pop in here with a little note before you read this fiction. I had originally planned to make this a two part fiction to post on two different days in one week but then I realized that I’m not going to be able to do that just due to the fact I am so back logged with fiction ideas and stories to work on for Wattpad so I’ve done my best to try and make it a good one part read and maybe sometime in the future I will comeback to this idea and do a part two/sequel where the girls vacation. I also just want to say that I’ve lost my tag list for people who wanted to be tagged in this, so I am just going to have to hope you see this at this point aha. I am also going to address the fact that if you don’t see yourself being mentioned much in this fiction or having little dialogue, the reason for that is me not knowing your characters personality or pronouns and not wanting to portray or address them in the wrong way.

Anywho, I hope you all enjoy this fiction and if you have any constructive criticism that you feel I could take on board to apply into my future fiction writing please comment it and I will be sure to make a note of it as I will take it happily to improve upon my writing skills.

Much Love,

tyrilsnightbloom xoxo

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"Ladies and Gentlemen, we are coming upon our decent, please buckle your seatbelts and follow all safety procedures told to you at the beginning of and during this flight. Once again we are coming upon our decent to JFK airport in New York City, New York. We hope you enjoyed your flight with us. Thank You for choosing America Air!" the pilot of the aircraft said as the flight descended from the air into the airport.

A few minutes later and the plane has safely landed and unloaded it’s passengers, all of them entering the bustling JFK airport to baggage claim to get their bags. Once they had collected their bags some people grouped together as they headed outside to look for someone holding a sign reading "Pixelberry Winners" chatting excitedly amongst themselves. "Where are they?" one of the young women asked looking around excitedly, "over there!" another exclaimed, and they grabbed their suitcases rushing over to the people holding their sign. "Names?" the man spoke with no tone. "Uh. I'm Kay" one girl said nervously, "Angela" the next said holding her hand up "And I'm Yuri" the last spoke as the man checked them off of the list and they stood over with another young woman to the side. "Hey" Angela smiled holding her hand out, "Hi... I'm Tia" the young woman said shyly as she shook Angela's hand. The 4 young women waited, by their car for the last 2 winners of the competition to arrive. Once they did they all piled into the waiting mini bus and were taken to the hotel they would be staying at. Shortly after that they had checked into the hotel they were in the restaurant, ordering their lunch before going to settle into their rooms, ready for the tour around New York the next day.

It was early the next morning and the fans had all gathered round a couch in the lobby of the hotel waiting for their tour guide. After about 25 minutes a smiley woman approached the group with someone who has very distinguishable purple hair with her “Hi! Are you guys the group of Pixelberry winners?” she asked cheerily, with a smile. They all nodded enthusiastically and jumped to their feet. The cheery lady introduced herself as the tour guide and led the girls to the mini bus, they would be taking round the city to see all of the sites from Bloodbound. The tour went smoothly, and the tour guide even brought the girls some street food from a vendor that is rumoured to be frequented by the BloodBound crew. Towards the end of their tour the main tour guide spoke up. “Now I’m sure y’all are excited to try and run into one of the vampires. And I’ve seen you looking at my apprentice weirdly all day today so… Jade… why don’t you reveal your true self to the people here today.” She beams as the woman with purple in her hair that has been on the tour all day too slowly takes off her disguise, revealing herself to be Lily Spencer, the fans gasping excitedly. “Hey guys! It’s been such a pleasure to meet you today and get to show you some of the sites we had the pleasure of visiting during our crazy journey. Now obviously I’ve stayed in the bus because it’s been daytime. But now that it’s dark out… Who wants to come to one of the coolest places in New York with me and meet the rest of the gang?!” she asks excitedly. “I’d love to but I’m tired and need to get some rest after today.” Morgan said with an apologetic look, Cassy agreeing with her and hopping back into the mini bus so they could be taken back to the hotel safely. Everyone else however excitedly agreed to go along with Lily, awe struck by her up close beauty and excited to meet everyone else. “I wonder what Amy is like in real life?” Yuri asked, “I hope she as much a gem as she is in the books and movies” Angela replied. “psshhhh. Forget that, I want to witness Jax’s abs. front row seat!” Tia exclaimed, Lily turning and smirking at her. “I like you already” she grinned, fangs poking out a little.

Soon they were arriving at the spot where Lily was taking them, “Yo Lilz!” a voice shouted out and she turned to the 4 fans who had come with her, “you ready?” she smiled, and they nodded nervously. Lily led them to the booth and sat down with a smile. “Who are these people?” Kamilah asked clenching her fist, ready to defend herself. “Kamilah relax. It’s 4 of the lucky 6” Lily said softly, placing a gentle hand over Kamilah’s. Not long after Adrian and Jax appeared holding trays of drinks, “Oh. We have company?” Adrian asked as he slid into the booth next to Amy, sliding his arm round her waist and kissing her temple gently. “ah! Cuutteeee.” Kay squealed, causing Adrian to blush lightly. Jax brought over 3 chairs and placed them round the table. “I could only find 3 spares.” He said as he placed the final chair. Tia was occupied on her phone, reading through something, and smiling. Jax turned to try and get her attention but froze and choked on his words, this caused Tia to snap her head towards the commotion, “are you okay?” she said with a worried arched brow, looking at Jax who nodded and took a few moments to compose himself. “I was going to say, you can take my seat if you want to. I could only find 3 spares and I don’t mind standing” he said, “Oh.. th-thank you. That’s incredibly kind of you” she blushed as she took the seat. “No worries” he smiled. Lily got to gossiping about the latest Fangbook drama. The fans sat talking quietly amongst themselves, “Anyway, I don’t believe we’ve been acquainted.” Adrian smiled at the fans, Lily started introducing them one by one. The fans waved and said one fact about themselves as Lily introduced them and soon they were conversing with the group laughing and having fun. It was a little later on and the chatter had died down and every one was either talking quietly in pairs or checking their phones. Tia looked over at the dance floor and got up heading towards it. “Wait for me! Amy come on!” Lily called out as she shot up from her seat at the table, grabbing Amy’s wrist and heading to the dance floor with Tia. Kamilah and Adrian stayed sat at the table chuckling at the 3 starting to dance and slowly the other 3 fans, Angela, Yuri, and Kay joined them, letting themselves loose and making the wildest of shapes with their bodies. At some point Tia was at the bar getting another drink when Jax walked up beside her. “Oh hey Jax! You okay?” she asked happily. “No.” he answered grumpily making her frown, “what’s wrong?” she pouted, and he suppressed a small smile creeping onto his features and looked at her, “I can’t figure out how you’re so beautiful” he replies, “Oh..” Tia blushed as she picked up her drink sipping on it to try and hide the blush a little. “That’s cute.” Jax commented quietly causing Tia to blush even more and her legs turned to jelly so she took a seat at the bar and Jax sat with her for a little while. Soon Tia made her way back to the dance floor and Jax followed her. Back in the booth Adrian and Kamilah were keeping a close eye on everyone, when 2 of the fans came back to the table with Amy. “Hey babe? I’m going to walk these two back to their hotel and then head home myself. You coming?” she asked Adrian, who emptied his glass and then smiled “Yeah, sure.” He gave Kamilah a hug and then left with Amy and the two fans, leaving Tia with Jax, Lily and Kamilah.

Later that night around 4:30am, The 4 left at the bar were ordering one more drink to have before leaving when there was a sudden smash across the bar from them, Jax stepped forward cautiously drawing his sword whilst Kamilah unsheathed her daggers, her stance matching Jax’s, whilst Lily stayed close to Tia, protecting her from anything that may come their way. Soon a man skidded across the floor and stopped nearby Tia’s feet. “Oh my god.” She gasped quietly and looked at Lily. Nobody knows what happened, but the next thing that everyone knew was a fight had broken out. “Lily! Get Tia to safety! If anything happens to her…” he trailed off as he fought off three men advancing toward him. Lily grabbed Tia’s hand and led her out of a back exit. “The safest place for you right now is your hotel room. Follow me” Lily spoke urgently as she took off into the night away from the club. “Lily!” Tia exclaimed as she tried to keep up with her as she parkoured through the streets of New York. Finally, out of breath Tia caught up with Lily in the hotel’s lobby at the elevators which pinged open and Lily pulled her inside. “Which floor?” she urged. “Four” Tia answered breathlessly. The elevator whirred taking them to the fourth floor, Tia swiped her rooms key card on the door, and they went inside. It was about an hour later and there was a knock on the door. Still awake Tia walked through the door and looked through the little spy hole, seeing a rattled looking Jax. She opened the door at the same time another door just a couple down from her room opened and Kamilah came creeping out. She smiled at Jax knowingly and went on her way, Jax stepping into Tia’s room. “Are you okay?” he asked. “I’m tired.” She replied and got back into bed. “Oh… yeah I forgot you’re…” he said feeling suddenly awkward. Soon there were more knocks on the door. “ugghhh.” Tia groaned. “I’ve got it.” Jax soothed and answered the door and was received with a bunch of squeals. “Omg I knew it was him at this door!” Kay exclaimed “Who’s room is this anyway?” Angela asked. “I believe it’s Tia’s” Yuri said trying to keep her cool. “So Jax. You interested in her?” Angela asked, the three waiting as they looked at him for an answer expectantly. “So what if I am?” he asked, “It’s cute when you try to be all broody.” Yuri commented. Jax shrugged it off, “So… can Tia, Lily or I help you 3 lovely ladies or….” Jax asked, letting the question linger. “Well we were actually going to ask if Tia wanted to sleep in with us. We’re doing a big slumber type party.” Kay smiled confidently. “You may have to come in here if you want to do that.” he whispered, hearing the change in Tia’s breathing. “She’s sleeping” he elaborated. The three girls nodded and went to grab their blankets and pillows, before returning to Tia’s room. “Right, I’ll leave you girls to it then.” He smiled politely, motioning to a now awake Lily to follow him and together they left going out into the night. “Goodnight girls. It was fun getting to know you today. I look forward to spending more time with you!” Kay whispered, not wanting to wake Tia. “Goodnight” Yuri and Angela whispered back as they laid down closing their eyes and falling asleep.

Over the next two days the fans hung out getting to know each other and following on each other so they could stay in contact after they leave New York. On their last day they were wondering the streets of New York when Kay spotted Lily and Adrian walk into a juice bar. “Let’s go in there.” She pointed and they all headed inside and waited in line behind Lily and Adrian. “So.. why are we here?” Yuri asked. Recognizing the voice, Lily spun round. “Oh my gosh! Hey, you guys!!” she exclaimed and hugged them all tightly. “Lily let the poor women breathe” Adrian chuckled as he moved forward in the line. Lily smiled brightly as she took her spot back next to Adrian. “How have you been? New York’s treating you well I hope?” he questioned “Yes, we’ve had so much fun!” Angela responded excitedly, “It’s sad we have to leave tomorrow.” Tia pouted and she put her phone away. “It’s your 4th day here already?!” Lily asked and Tia nodded “Man. Jax is going to be crushed…” she said defeatedly. “What?” Yuri asked curiously. “Jax has been…” she trailed off, looking at Adrian who looked at Tia with a tender look. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Tia asked as they moved forward. “Jax is a little lovesick. And it appears to be for you.” He said looking distant. “OOOOOOOOOOOO” the other girls said teasingly as Tia blushed. “Jax is in love with Tia! Jax is in love with Tia!” Angela and Kay teased causing Tia to blush. “well.. I… he is…” “Shut up! You like him too!” Yuri exclaimed. “Shhhhhhhh” Tia urged, blushing harder and clasping her hand over Yuri’s mouth. Adrian chuckled as he walked up to the juice bar and gave his order to the cashier. “What are you going to do?” Angela asked.

“What do you mean?” Tia asked back.

“Well are you going to see him before we leave?”

“What? No! he’s a busy man. He doesn’t need badgering by someone like me.”

“What?! Are you crazy girl!!! Give me your number and I’ll get him to text you.”

“Lily. Don’t trouble the poor girl.” Adrian chuckled slightly as he turned round from the counter. “What? Jax likes her and she likes Jax. Why not set the wheels in motion for a fantastic relationship?” Lily defended. “Lily.” Adrian warned, “Fine.” Lily sighed and turned around to help collect the juices before they said goodbye and set off.

Later that night, all the girls apart from Cassy and Morgan were gathered in Kay’s room, sharing pizza and their favourite fizzy soda. “So, are you really going to just leave Jax hanging?” Angela asked Tia, taking a bite from her pizza slice. Tia swallowed her bite and took a sip of her drink, doing her best to avoid the question. “Tia?” Kay asked causing her to sigh. “Yes. No. I don’t know. He’s a great guy but we leave in the morning.” Tia explained. “And? That doesn’t mean you can’t exchange social media ats or something and talk.” Yuri chimed in, “But I’m going to be thousands of miles away and he’s too cute to have a relationship from that far away.” Tia pouted as there was a knock at the door. “I’ve got it” Angela smiled and answered the door. “Amy!” she exclaimed and gave her a hug. “Hi! Can I come in?” Amy smiled back, “Yeah sure!” Angela chirped and stepped aside letting her in and closing the door behind her. “Ooooo. I smell pizza” Amy grinned hungrily. “Take a piece we have enough” Kay said happily. “Thank You” Amy said as she took a piece and sunk her teeth into it, “MMMMMMMMM, that’s SO good.” She mumbled as she chewed. The other 4 girls resuming to eat and sip their soda. “So… I came here to give you all something” Amy said, breaking the silence as she reached into her bag, pulling out necklaces with the girls initials on. “Awww Amyy” the girls all said happily as they gathered round Amy giving her a tight hug. Amy returned the hug and as they all pulled away there was another knock at the door, which Kay went and answered. “Yeah.. just a second.” She said quietly then came back the main living area of the hotel room, “It’s for you Tia.” She smiled as she returned to her seat. Tia got up and went to the door, surprised a little when she saw Jax standing there. She hadn’t expected to see him again before she left. Which is how she wanted it to be in a way, so it was easier for her to leave. “Jax.” She whispered after a long moment of silence of the two staring at each other. He smiled softly at her before speaking.

“I um… wanted to. No, needed to see you before you left.”

“But why?”

“Because as cringey and cheesey as this is. I’ve caught feelings for you. You’re beautiful Tia.”

“Jax.”

“No Tia please. Let me finish… As you know I mostly hate lovey dovey stuff. It makes me mad because I’ve never been able to know what it truly feels like to have it and wanting it has only caused pain when women have run away after finding out who I really am. But you know. You know who I truly am, and you still flirted with me the other night. You made me feel… normal. It’s a weird feeling being here confessing I like you when you’re leaving in a few hours, but I knew if I never told you then you’d be the one who got away. You probably will be anyway but at least this way I can get some sort of peace knowing that you know how I feel about you and… I can only hope you feel the same about me. I also wanted to give you something to remember me by. I went to a friend and got this fast-tracked to be custom made for you but um… I want to give you this.”

“Oh… Jax this is…” Tia gasped as she reached her hand out delicately taking the keychain from Jax’s hand. “It’s beautiful” she smiled softly

“It’s a Daisy. I chose it because of what it symbolizes.”

“What does it mean?”

“In general it symbolizes purity, innocence and loyal love.”

Tia smiles at the keychain before looking at Jax and giving him a hug. “This is really thoughtful. Thank you” she spoke into the crook of his neck. He returned the hug, squeezing tightly as if he never wanted to let go. Which he didn’t but he reluctantly parted from Tia and gave a small smile. “Could I come and wave you goodbye tomorrow?” He asked. “Of course.” She smiled in response. “Then good night beautiful.” He said leaving with yearning in his eyes. “Good night Jax.” Tia said softly, stepping back inside and shutting the door, going back to her seat in the main living area. “Tia has a boyfriend!” Yuri squealed as she entered the room, Tia smiled and blushed as she took her seat. For the rest of the night until Amy left and they went to bed the girls teased Tia about Jax occasionally and talked about business and stuff with Amy. Getting a feel of what life was really like for them as vampires in New York.

Early the next morning the girls were at the front desk of the hotel checking out when someone tapped on their shoulders. When they turned round they saw Kamilah who smiled at them brightly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around much girls but I heard you leave in a few hours so I thought I’d swing by and take you to the airport and give you a copy of my book to take home with you as a parting gift.” The girls smiled and graciously accepted the lift to the airport and their gift from Kamilah. When they got to the airport they went through the standard procedure before settling in seats near their gates waiting for their departures to be announced. But before they broke off from each other they had one last group hug and promised to keep in contact with each other. Cassy, Morgan, and Kay were the first ones to have their departure flights called, followed a few minutes later by Angela’s flight being called. Tia was sitting at her gate reading through Kamilah’s book when someone cleared their throat making her jump and drop the book. “Darn. Now I’ve lost my page.” She cursed quietly as she picked it up. “Sorry bout that.” Jax chuckled as he sat next to her. The two got to talking whilst Tia waited for her flight to be called. They laughed and joked and eventually followed each other on Pictagram, agreeing to stay in contact. It felt sudden and too soon but Tia’s flight got called along with another and she stood up unwillingly and put her hand on the handle of her suitcase but Jax took it and wheeled it to the gate for her, giving her one final hug before she left. As she pulled away from the hug she pecked Jax’s cheek making him freeze for a moment before braking out into a smile. “See you later Tia.” He grinned as he turned and swaggered away. Before heading through her gate tunnel she spotted Yuri. “BYE YURI!! SPEAK TO YOU SOON” she shouted across with a wave and Yuri waved back with a matching wide smile and the two got onto their planes settling into their seats ready to touch back down at their hometowns. Wondering when they would all be able to meet like this again, but Jax was also on Tia’s mind as her plane took off down the runway and ascended into the sky. They may not know when but they did know that they would all have to meet up again soon and vacation together and make more amazing memories to last a lifetime.

[luxusnoname]

Glory Is A Whisper (Part One)

Summary: All his life, Braig dreamed of the honor and prestige that came along with being a hero from the stories of old. So when an opportunity to find a legendary weapon falls right into his lap, how can he say no? But if those stories are anything to go by, things never turn out quite as expected. Part one of (?) in a series. For Day 6 of @apprenticeweek : AU.

Characters/Pairings: Braig, Dilan, Aeleus, bg Dilan/Aeleus. More to come in the next part 👀

Rating: T; some alcohol and swears

Word Count: ~2.1k

Author’s Note: Will be posting part 2 tomorrow for the free day! I started writing this as a one shot but it quickly spiraled out of control. You know what they say: once you start using fantasy name generators for your towns and mountain ranges it’s all downhill from there.

~~~

Glory Is A Whisper

“I just don’t get it,” Braig pondered aloud, kicking his feet up on the rough-hewn tavern table as he tipped back precariously in his chair. “What do all of those legendary heroes have that I don’t?”

The fairy-tales always made it sound so easy. Sure, there was usually a dragon guarding the princess or some ancient necromancer with an army of undead to protect a magical artifact, but the hero's path always seemed to lay out nicely before them. Sometimes it appeared in the form of a magical mentor, sending the hero on a quest or guiding them to great power. Other times it was a prophecy, a pre-destined event that one was born and molded for their entire lives. Braig had neither of these going for him. So what then was an aspiring glory seeker to do?

Dilan, one of Braig’s only friends in the village, sighed and sloshed the liquid in his tankard around. How many times had they had this conversation before? He didn’t look up from his ale as he responded sharply.

“Manners, for starters. Feet off the table, Braig.”

The smaller man gave a dramatic groan, but obeyed. “I’m serious! I’ve got charisma-”

“Debatable.”

“-good looks-”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“-and my skill with a bow.”

Dilan grumbled; he unfortunately couldn’t refute that. If there was anything that could be said about Braig’s potential for greatness, it would be attributed to his keen marksmanship. He was also quick and far more clever than most would give him credit for, but he often acted carelessly on impulse. His personality, boisterous and cocksure, left much to be desired. 

He was a man through and through - by all accounts, the least remarkable race in the realm. And if one asked any of the villagers of Dunstead that knew Braig, he in particular was even less so.

“All I’m saying,” Braig continued, “is that there’s gotta be something more to life than… This.” He gestured to the rest of the tavern and its rowdy, drunken patrons. The irony that he was one of them went completely over his head.

Dilan scowled. “You’re the one who wanted to come here in the first place.”

“You know what I mean! Yeah, I like to come here because sometimes people come through with stories. Stories of places and treasures far away from here. But if this is all I have to look forward to for the rest of my life? What’s the point?”

“I think you’ve had too much ale and it’s muddling what little sense you have left.” He shook his head. “Perhaps it’s time we leave. I have to be at the blacksmith’s first thing tomorrow morning.”

Braig waved his hand dismissively. “I’m not nearly as drunk as you think. You can go if you want, but I’m going to stay a while longer.”

“If you say so.” Dilan stood up with a grunt, digging around in his pocket for a few silver pieces. He set them on the table. “Give these to the barkeep before you leave. Do not pocket them.”

“Give ‘em to him yourself then. Aeleus likes you better anyway.”

He watched his companion leave the tavern, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aeleus doing the same. Braig rolled his eyes. Their mutual infatuation was so obvious to everyone but each other, yet Dilan called him the simpleton. He kicked his feet back up on the table and closed his eyes, listening for any threads of conversation that might be mildly interesting.

“They’re not so much from me as they are an apology for him having to put up with you,” he quipped, with a quick glance at the ginger man behind the counter. “Besides. He’s busy right now and doesn’t need me distracting him.”

Braig shrugged. “Whatever you say, Dil. Have a good night.”

He had spent many a night like this in Dunstead’s tavern, listening to rangers and travelers and peddlers exchange stories in hopes of finding a legend to follow. Preferably something that required his skill with a bow to slay a dangerous beast or defeat a great foe. His fingers itched for a more challenging opponent than the rabbit he hunted for dinner last night.

But these were not the sorts of stories he heard. Most of them were boring and none were even close to anything he would consider legendary. Sure, killing a rabid wolf that had been slowly picking off members of a nearby village was worth some bragging rights, but where were the riches? The grandeur? He wanted recognition and reward for his efforts, but he was beginning to think the opportunity would never come.

And then the tavern door creaked open and the din of the crowd quieted ever so slightly. Braig cracked an eye open and glanced toward the newcomer. It appeared to be an older man judging by his gait, but a heavy cloak obscured his face. He wasn’t a Dunstead local, that much was for certain. More than a few pairs of eyes followed him to the bar where he seated himself. There was a heavy and distinct air of otherness about him that Braig couldn’t put his finger on. He seemed… Powerful. Important.

Maybe he’d had too much ale after all, because he didn’t even think before he stood from his own table and swiped up the money left by Dilan, making his way to the bar. He seated himself next to the stranger and beckoned Aeleus over.

“A pint of your finest for myself and this gentleman here.” Braig handed him a silver piece with a flourish. “You can keep the change.”

Aeleus nodded and set about pouring their drinks. Braig turned to the old man, who had watched the exchange passively. It was strange; even up close, he couldn’t make out any distinguishing features beneath the cowl.

“I appreciate the kindness, stranger.” The newcomer's voice came as a deep and gravely rasp. “Do you often buy drinks for weary travelers?”

“I guess you could say I’m in charge of hospitality here,” he grinned. “The name’s Braig.”

The man dipped his head in acknowledgement. “A pleasure.”

“Your drinks, gentlemen,” Aeleus interrupted, shooting Braig a brief ‘I know you’re bullshitting this man but I’m going to stay out of it’ glance before setting their tankards down and leaving to serve another patron.

Braig lifted his drink in a toast, bumping it with the stranger’s. “Welcome to Dunstead, my friend!”

As they drank, Braig got the feeling that this reclusive stranger was privy to some secret knowledge or power. He just had a feeling. And so he found himself crafting a very elaborate and very false story about how he was a famed archer in the region and basically the hero of Dunstead. He recounted a tale in which he single-handedly defended a young prince who’d been attacked by bandits while passing through the hills on the east end of the village, and was rewarded handsomely for his valor. Most of the money was donated to widows and poor families in town, of course. He peppered in other small, more believable acts of kindness as well, and the stranger listened with rapt attention.

“A shame your deeds are not known elsewhere,” the gentleman hummed at the end of it all. “It is to be expected, of course. Such heroic men are usually only acknowledged in the pages of history. But it would appear I’ve found a legend in the making.”

“Eh, maybe so,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “But helping others is a reward all its own.”

“Me? A living legend?” Braig laughed, playing up his modesty. “As if. I’m just a guy who does the right thing, regardless of reward.”

“Oh, but that selflessness is what qualifies you to be a hero,” the stranger continued. “You’ve risked your life for others with little regard for your own safety. Don’t you think that’s deserving of something more than just the respect of your fellow man?”

“But what if I told you that it doesn’t have to be?”

Braig’s façade almost cracked as whatever he’d been about to say died on his lips. His shock, however, was quickly covered up with an easy grin. He knew his act was working as intended, but he hadn’t expected to get to this point so quickly. 

The man dug around in his robe for a moment before procuring a rolled parchment. He laid it on the bar to reveal a map of the realm. Braig had seen one like it once before, a traveling peddler’s map marked with safe trade routes and profitable towns. But this map… There was only one destination marked on it. An inconspicuous spot at the foot of the Skarnfell mountain range.

“Tell me, Braig, have you heard tales of Whisperwind?”

His jaw nearly hit the floor. Of course he knew of Whisperwind, as did every other child who’d ever heard a bedtime story. It was a legendary elven bow, enchanted so that as long as the target was in sight, its wielder would aim true every time. He hadn’t allowed himself to believe it was real since he was a boy that dreamed of discovering it. Most dismissed it as a legend.

The stranger gave a low chuckle. “I can tell by your expression that you have. Now, don’t you think such a weapon would be fitting for a hero such as yourself?”

“But… I thought the elves left this region long ago.”

“That is what history has told us, yes. But their last settlement before moving on, a city inside the mountain, still stands. And inside, they left behind one of their greatest artifacts.” The man pointed to the spot on the map to reinforce his point. “I’ve searched for it myself, but lack the wits I’d had in my youth. Perhaps you’d fare better?”

“I-I don’t know what to say.” They were the first honest words he’d spoken to the stranger so far, a sure sign of his shock. “I appreciate it, I do, but… Why entrust something like this to me?”

The stranger laid a hand on his shoulder, eyes beneath the cowl silently penetrating his very soul. Was that a flash of gold he saw?

“You are a great man in word and deed, Braig. As I said before, I believe you are worthy of more than just praise alone. This is your opportunity to become something more. A true legend.”

Maybe it was just Braig’s imagination, but was the man’s grip on his shoulder tighter? Or was he just nervous, already imagining the journey ahead? This was what he’d always dreamed of, after all. A legend to chase after. His chance for glory.

His destiny.

“Take this map home with you and think on what I’ve said.” He let go of Braig’s shoulder and rolled the parchment up once more. “A gift, for entertaining this weary old man with tales of valor and generosity.”

Braig stood up, tucking the map into his pocket and shaking the stranger’s hand. “Thank you, mister…” He chuckled awkwardly. “Y’know, this whole time we were talking, I never did catch your name.”

“My name is hardly important. But I’ve affixed the corner of the map with my symbol. If you discover Whisperwind and make it into the pages of history, I would like to be named in your story. My symbol will suffice for such a purpose.”

Braig nodded dumbly, head still reeling from the revelations of the past few minutes. “Yeah, of course. I’ll never forget your kindness, sir. Truly.” He turned to walk away, but stopped short. “Wait, do you have a place to stay tonight? If you don’t, it’s the least I could do to offer you mine.”

The man laughed, deep and rich. “You needn’t put yourself out on my account. I have money for a room at the inn tonight. I’ll be moving on tomorrow morning.”

“Alright, well. I bid you a good night then. And safe travels.”

“Likewise, young man.”

As Braig left the tavern, he nodded to Aeleus, who was doing his best not to make eye contact with Braig. Bless the man, he really did mind his business… Oh right, he almost forgot the tip! Braig stopped just outside the door and dug in his pocket for the silver coins Dilan left, but his fingers found nothing. Huh, maybe he’d dropped them on the way to the bar. They were probably long gone, swept up by some vulture. Not that it mattered, anyway. What was a few pieces of silver to a great weapon from the age of elves?

Braig hardly got a wink of sleep that night. The stranger told him to think it over, but he’d already made up his mind. He packed a bag and was ready to leave at sunrise. The journey would only take a week, so he really had nothing to lose. The most difficult part would be the day spent navigating through Willowmire forest at the northern border of Dunstead. But as long as he stuck to the path, he’d be fine. He had to be, for his destiny awaited him.