#give me siblings give me a parent who fails but tries anyway give me doomed relationships give me sticking together despite it all

[yj-98]

i think you’re an enjoyer of themes to do w/ family

what gave you that impression :-) ............ 🧐🧐🧐🧐

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober2021 - October 4th - Taken Hostage | Pushed

Gift fic to @fidothefinch <3

Fandom: Nightwing, Batman - All Media Types

AO3

Warnings: Near death experience, hostage situations, implies Bruce as a shitty dad but I don't go into detail on it.

---

If there’s anything in the world that Dick hates more than being restrained, it’s being held hostage. Especially if he’s being held hostage as a threat against Bruce or Batman. One thing they don’t tell you in the foster system is that if you’re adopted by a rich and famous to the Kardashian level man, is that you’re often the target of criminals who think snatching a kid on their way home from school is a surefire way to make a million bucks. It’s no better in the vigilante business either, because often any hero in Gotham is only seen as a stepping stool to getting to Batman.

Honestly, at this point Dick’s used to it. It doesn’t mean he enjoys it, though. Not so much because of the initial kidnapping part, but because he’s worked hard to become his own person, his own man with his own life. He moved to Blüdhaven to be anything other than the son of Bruce Wayne; to be his own hero that villains learn to fear. And then the second he sets foot back in Gotham, for whatever reason, suddenly it’s all about the reclusive eldest Wayne child returning home! Suddenly, when villains see him at night, it isn’t “Oh shit, it’s Nightwing!”, it’s “Shit, it’s a Sidekick! Where’s the Bat?!”

Anyway, long story short, Dick came back to Gotham for one weekend to visit family, and now he’s dressed as Nightwing, standing on a roof with duct-tape keeping his wrists together behind his back and a knife to his throat belonging to a shady businessman who’s finally caught the attention of Gotham’s heroes.

And it’s sorta pathetic how Dick ended up in this situation. It wasn’t like this was going to be a particularly difficult mission. Just sneak into the building, grab the evidence he needed to get this bastard behind bars, and then get out. Unfortunately, someone tipped the man off without Bruce knowing about it. When he went into the main office, he was met with a very strong guard hiding behind the doors, and after a hefty blow to the head and a few concerning minutes of blacking out, Dick opened his eyes—thankfully still masked—to find himself kneeling on the rough cement of a skyscraper’s roof, completely stripped of any of his useful tools. He has a small knife in one of his gauntlets, but it’s not exactly in an easy to reach position. It would take time to grab at it, and that’s not counting the high probability he’ll be spotted by Jerome McCoy--Gotham’s latest shady businessman--or any of his goons.

Besides, Tim is already up here listening to their demands to get Batman up here or Dick dies. It shouldn’t be long before Bruce gets here and kicks his ass. That’s not even accounting for the facts that Jason, Steph, Duke, Dami, and Cass are all in town.

These idiots have no clue how close they are with dealing with close to every single bat if something bad happens to Dick tonight.

And everything was going fine until Tim suddenly stopped mid sentence in reminding McCoy that Batman was on his way and brought his hand to his communicator in his ear. When Tim paled ever so slightly, Dick knew something had gone exactly NOT according to plan.

“What is it?!” McCoy demands, pressing the knife against Dick’s neck with worrying pressure. Dick leans his head back slightly to lessen the risk of his neck being cut and meets Tim in the eyes through their masks.

Tim swallows. “Batman is being held up-”

Dick resists sighing in both disappointment and lack-of-surprise as McCoy practically explodes.

“What?!

“Only for a few hours,” Tim rushes to explain. He’s lifted his hands in a placid manner and softened his voice, which can’t be good. “He’s… met an unexpected complication along the way that he cannot ignore. Please, just tell me what you want, and I can take my partner and be out of-”

“I don’t have a few hours,” McCoy practically screeches. “Either Batman makes it his priority to get here, or Nightwing gets it!” to make a point, McCoy lifts the knife from Dick’s neck and waves it in front of him. Dick slides his eyes over to the other goons on the roof; there’s only a few. Maybe… if Dick plays his cards right… “That was the deal!”

“I understand-”

“Tell Batman to get here now, or Nightwing’s blood is on his hands!”

“He’s busy- I can’t just-”

Dick slams his body back, pointing his elbow the furthest he can with the way his arms are bound and jamming it into McCoy’s stomach. McCoy lets out a startled, breathless gasp as Dick uses his surprise to escape from his grasp and jump to his feet.

“’Wing!” Tim yells at the same time McCoy wheezes “Get that fucker!”

Dick has just a second to notice Tim’s shock at Dick’s sudden attack before Dick’s having to defend himself with his hands literally tied behind his back. Sorry, kid, Dick thinks, ducking around a pair of beefy arms, but we’re out of options.

It was going well until it wasn’t. Tim was even about to step in. However, while waking up from his lovely whack to the head, Dick failed to assess just where he was on the roof.

All it took was for the back of his heel to tough nothing but air for his heart to jump to his throat. Instinctively, he tried to wave his arms to catch his balance, but was quickly reminded of his predicament when the tape tugged against his wrists. For a moment, pure panic filled his entire body, here, wobbling backwards off the edge of a roof dozens of stories above the ground. He could feel his heart pound, hands shake, breath catch, hair rustle in the wind, but he couldn’t do a thing to stop himself from falling backwards. He’s pretty sure he hears Tim scream his codename, but he’s not totally focused on anything other than his pending doom right now-

A heavy hand wraps around his upper-bicep, stopping his almost-promised journey to pancake town. Everything is silent on the roof for a solid moment, as Dick practically hangs over the ledge of the roof with his feet just barely still on solid ground, a goon holding him juuuuuust enough to make sure he doesn’t fall. Tim looks even paler than before, looking like he really did watch Dick go over the edge. McCoy looks a constipating mixture of smug and outraged while the other goons stand nearby like useless props.

Then, McCoy speaks with anger as heavy and level as stone. “Tell Batman I want him here in ten minutes.”

Tim meets Dick’s eyes, and Dick sees everything that he needs to. Whatever is holding Bruce up, it’s more important than Dick, and Tim knows it’s useless to even try.

“Please,” Tim says, voice wobbly. He’s a detective. He knows what’s about to happen. “Just give us more time-”

McCoy snaps a finger, and that’s that.

The hand on his arm pushes Dick away and opens it’s grasp. It doesn’t matter anymore that Dick had his feet on the roof, because the rest of his body is falling.

Falling.

Dick’s completely off the roof in a blink of an eye and he’s falling.

The air is rushing past his ears and through his hair, so loud he can barely think. That’s if he’s thinking at all, as story after story passes him by. He’s falling, and for the first time in a long time, he’s afraid of falling, because this time there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He doesn’t have any tools… he doesn’t even have his hands, nor enough time to even try and get his hands free. He’s falling, rushing to the ground. He can already see in vivid detail what his body will look like when it hits the pavement.

He’s falling. He’s standing at the top of a beam, watching his mama and papa fall. He’s falling. He’s screaming as the sound of their bodies landing and snapping reaches his ears. He’s falling and he’s going to die in the most Grayson way possible.

He’s going to die the same way his parents did, a way that he’s worked hard to not be afraid of ever since he first moved in with Bruce, but was always secretly terrified.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch. He’s afraid, and Tim will watch from above and blame himself and he never wanted any of his siblings to blame themselves for his death like how he blamed himself for his parent’s for decades and-

And the wind is knocked out of him, but not from his body slamming on the ground. A strong arm wraps painfully around his stomach, and suddenly the world turns sideways and his eyes shoot open in shock.

“Fuck,” Jason grunts, holding Dick with one arm and the other wrapped tightly in a grappling line. “Fucking hell.”

And Dick… doesn’t know what to do. He feels muted, like a YouTube video playing at 144p and buffering still. The adrenaline is pumping so loudly through his entire body that the fact that Jason’s caught him doesn’t register until Jason’s landing roughly on the ground and lowering Dick to the asphalt.

“Started heading over the second that bastard said he wasn’t coming,” Jason explains. Dick nods numbly, his eyes locked on the oil covered road below him, his mind still trying to process. “Said he ran into some bastard working for Two-Face holding some rich family hostage. Said we could handle it. I can’t believe I got here just in time. Fucking fuck-face fucker.”

There’s a splash of two feet landing on the permanently puddled street beside them, and Dick can hardly contain his flinching at the sound, but thankfully Jason doesn’t notice. He just stands up and faces where Tim has landed quite suddenly from where he must have grappled down from the roof. Dick continues to look at the ground, wringing his knitting together in front of him. He… hasn’t noticed Jason undid the bindings.

“What happened to McCoy?” Jason demands, and Tim takes a gasping breath and shakes his head.

“They ran into the building while I… jumped after N.”

Jason growls, taking a step forward but Tim stops him. “Orphan said she’ll handle it, she sounded pissed.”

Jason backs off, but anger still curls in his stomach like an old friend. His fists clench to his side. “Once I see B, I’m gonna punch his teeth up to his brain.”

And it must be proof of how shaken Tim is, because he doesn’t argue.

Then, like a pin hitting tile, a small sound catches Jason’s ears. He looks down to where Dick is still sitting in the grime of Gotham’s street. His heart sinks to his gut.

“N?” he asks, and Dick doesn’t respond. “Nightwing, you’re… crying.”

That directs Tim’s attention down where tears are certainly streaming down Dick’s cheeks from under his mask. His lips are wobbling, and the second Jason kneels down to put his hand on Dick’s shoulder, a wounded sound escapes his lips.

“Dick?” Jason asks, his voice sounding shocked and unsure.

Dick looks up at Tim, looking one breath of the wind from falling apart. “You jumped after me?” His voice is small and brittle. When Tim nods slowly, Dick whimpers, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a sob. “You almost watched me die,” is all he says before he finally breaks down into mournful cries.

Jason looks up from where Dick’s now shaking and gasping into his hands and meets Tim’s eyes. Neither of them… has ever seen Dick get like this before. It feels wrong, like something in the world has shattered and can never be replaced.

“Lets… get him home,” Jason says, breaking the silence.

“Yeah,” is all Tim can smartly bring to his lips while Jason scoops Dick into his arms and stands up.

Dick’s so out of it with his sobbing that he hardly reacts, just curls against Jason and continues to cry.

“You know,” Jason says quietly, “the scariest way to die, for me, is to overdose.”

And Tim understands.

“I… see.”

Jason nods, swallowing hard. “Yeah. So let’s just call it a night, get him some Alfred cookies, and just… let him take this at his own pace, okay?”

Tim nods, knowing that after years of Dick always going out of his way to help them with their trauma, their issues, and never asking for anything in return… it’s now their turn to return the favor. Dick looks so much smaller than Tim swears he’s ever seen him, curled up in Jason’s arms, trembling and sobbing. He silently promises to himself that he will do whatever it takes to make sure Dick gets through this, just like what he’d do for them, always. And Tim’s positive the rest of Dick’s siblings will do the same.

[cripplerage]

I need to go on a rant about my real estate so... cw for real estate, brief mention of c*m, homelessness and abuse, cockroaches, and capitalism.

I live in Queensland, Australia. I'm 19. I graduated highschool 2019, right before Covid. I tried to move out but failed because of covid and stayed living at my foster carer's. In around August, I had to leave suddenly due to the abuse in the home worsening. I was then couch surfing and ended up staying at my partner's parent's overcrowded house with him. Let's call my partner C. Not an ideal situation, but not on the streets either.

We couldn't stay for long, though, because they were moving and they couldn't take C or me with them. There were 2 problems with this:

1. It turns out that it's nearly impossible to get a rental without a renting history, which we obviously didn't have.

2. Our area began to face a very serious housing crisis.

We got more and more desperate, applying anywhere we could afford and reaching out to any and all organisations that might be able to help. In the end, we had one week left when we found out that one of C's siblings had once private rented a room from a guy, and the room was currently empty. Thank god. Again, narrowly avoiding living on the streets.

So, we now lived with someone I'll call A. And... it sucked. The room had a bunch of mold on the walls, A barely cleared any space for us in the kitchen, he would shave his whole head over the sink and never clean up the hairs (in the end, C did it.) He even would regularly leave his c*m unflushed in the toilet. Not to mention he said the rent would be one price before we moved in and then increased it after we moved in. And he tried to get us to lie to Centrelink that we were paying rent so that he wouldn't lose his benefit. AND he's a transphobic gamer man who screams slurs at people on Dota at all hours of the day/night.

But we had to stay, or we'd be homeless. Bit then it comes time to sign the lease, and the rent is increasing. A couldn't afford rent on his own. We don't want to stay that long obviously, so we're forced to move out so he can get someone who'll sign the lease with him.

Side note: when we moved put, he tried to get us to scrub the walls for him because he said it was our responsibility, even though it was the same as when we moved in. I was so mad at this point but also scared because he's a big man, so I planned on us leaving and saying we'd come back but then not. But after my foster carer secretly spoke with him, he mysteriously changed his mind... I guess she's not all bad!

Anyway, again, we're frantically searching for housing, though we had never stopped looking because we hated living with A. Again, nearly homeless. At this point, so many people were homeless that many of them had set up tents on the local showgrounds. Then, an organisation finally came through for us. All we had to do was sign a lease - it's a unit, we were saved!

This brings us to 3 weeks ago. The unit kinda sucks but we have no choice, so we sign. Luckily there isn't an end date, we just have to give notice when we leave. The unit is furnished - it's mandatory. It sounds like a good thing, but it means we're presumably paying extra rent for really crappy furniture and it has to stay. And when it needs fixing, we have to wait for the real estate to fix it.

So we discover, after moving all our cold food into the old shitty fridge with D-rock etched into it with a knife, that the fridge emits hot air instead of cold. It spoiled all our food. So we then have to rely on 2 minute noodles and takeout for over a week until the fridge is fixed. It turns out the issue was that the door jams just slightly open, so that even the light has turned off but it's not closed. We learn how to close it properly, and life goes on. Except the fridge is now only slightly cooler than room temp, and the freezer part is about as cold as the fridge should be. The doors had been closed properly, and the settings had actually been set on the coldest option - more than most fridges need and using more power.

So then we had to ask for another technician. They booked a time, but never showed up. It was too late in the day to call them before we realised they weren't just late. It's now been 3 weeks since we moved in and we still don't have a working fridge - we have to keep our milk in the freezer.

For context - we need a freezer. I have undiagnosed chronic pain. We don't know what it's from yet, but we do know that ice packs are the only thing that significantly helps. So you can imagine the fury I felt in bed one morning, in excruciating pain. I was unable to move; sobbing and nauseous, knowing that something as simple as an ice pack could make a world of difference... and not having any that were frozen because the freezer is broken.

On top of that, the washing machine didn't work, the toilet paper roll doesn't work properly, the blinds are very broken, the hanger rod in our cupboard is detached from the wall on one side, we have a cockroach infection that has been here since we arrived, and we have very loud possoms in the roof and even louder neighbours. All except the neighbours have been reported, only the washing machine has been fixed.

Which would be mostly ok in this timeframe. Except we've just been told that we have a house inspection in 2 weeks? The notice came less than a month after we signed the lease; the standard is 3 months. How are we supposed to be fully unpacked and tidy when we don't have a working fridge/freezer and I sometimes can't walk from the pain because of it?

I am just so mad and upset and I feel so helpless. I feel doomed to be in unstable housing forever. How can I focus on getting better when I literally found a giant cockroach on my pillow tonight???

By the way, we pay $210 a week for this shothole. And it's VERY small.

So anyway, this was part 1 of my war on capitalism and the government. And I didn't even MENTION the homelessness experiences I had as a kid. Let me know if you want to hear the injustices I've experienced in the health system, in the legal system, in the education system, or in the foster system next. Yes, I could write an essay on each of these... and I probably will.

[twilightknight17]

So I fell asleep last night before I could make the post, but I got P5 Scramble yesterday and I’m having a blast so far. ^_^

I’m probably going to go through it the same way I did my Royal playthrough, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, don’t click through on these posts!

Before we start, I just want to mention that I don’t really know anything about the story. Somehow I’ve managed to avoid spoilers for an entire year except for a few small things.

I do know the identity of (who I assume is) Kyoto’s Jail Monarch. (Monarch is kind of a weird, formal word. I think I liked Jail King better. Or... Warden? Warden might have been the best choice.) ANYWAY, I think I know their identity, and by extension, I have a vague idea of why Shadow Joker exists. Other than that... You’re getting speculation and bullshit untainted by later plot revelations. XDDD

I did find it funny that when I booted the game up, I got a “No save data found, unable to start game” message. Like... no shit, PS4, it’s a brand new game. But the little starting tutorial fight was cool, and I liked the opening movie!

The police briefing was...interesting. It’s good to see them actually being somewhat logical? Like... considering everything that happened the year before, it makes sense that they’d assume this is the Thieves again. They have no way of knowing that there’s no way to access Palaces anymore. This isn’t really the Thieves MO, though. Except for the guy who confessed to document tampering. The author shredding his work for no reason and the guy streaking through the criminal justice headquarters don’t seem like they did anything wrong. Those seem more like psychotic breakdowns.

But... I guess we don’t know if the police ever knew anything about Black Mask, or if Shido was convicted on only real-world crimes and not the metaverse hits he ordered. I wonder if that’ll get elaborated on.

Zenkichi’s introduction was him laughing at the streaking guy in the middle of this Serious Police Meeting, so I think I’m gonna like him a lot. ^_^

Anyway, the “higher-ups” really want this case closed, according to “Commissioner Kaburagi”, who I already don’t like. If you’re the police commissioner, Makoto really would be a better choice, holy shit. She’s already prepared to go after Akira, who is the only Thief they know the identity of, so I guess that’s fair. But still. Has he not been falsely accused of enough for a lifetime?

Although... if you’re gonna look up all his life details, can you maybe... share some? Just a few things? Hometown? How are his parents? Anything?

*

Coming back to Leblanc was cute. Got some Trickster’s Maze vibes from the initial text conversation where they were talking about how people kept not responding to texts, but I think it’s all good. Love that the Sayuri is still on the wall, and that Morgana’s been home with Akira.

Naming the app “Emma” is never going to stop being hilarious to me, because reasons.

Y’know, Atlus, this would work a lot better if he could like...respond to their curiosity. At least these dialogue options seem to suggest that talking things out with his parents went well. Even “I missed you” isn’t inherently negative. He’d miss them either way.

.......so when my boyfriend gets back from his soul-searching vacation, he’ll be welcomed back with open arms, right, Ryuji? Right?

Meanwhile, for summer break plans, Yusuke wants to go to Kyoto for a month-long art tour. Unless...

Never change, dear. Never change.

Nice of Sojiro to water my plant and keep my room from drowning in dust, but he really couldn’t have replaced the bedframe with literally anything other than the plastic storage crates? XD The attic looks so empty and lonely without the shelves of trinkets and plushies, and the TV.

So my reaction to this next part was literally, “LAVENZA, IT’S BEEN LESS THAN 24 HOURS”. X’‘‘D Akira really can’t catch a break. But Lavenza’s dialogue sounded actually sad that he was being dragged into this again. And she’s promised repeatedly that she’s going to be there for him. It’s sweet, even though my room is still a prison and she’s still using torture equipment. Iron maidens, Lavenza, really??

I’m a little concerned that Igor’s not around, though. Lavenza did the dream/reality/mind/matter speech instead. Where is he? I know he’s never around for spinoffs but considering my headcanons I’m very curious now. And why didn’t he like... tell Morgana that Lavenza said ruin is coming again? Even if we don’t count thirdsem events, Morgana still knows that he’s Hope, and he still has a bond with the Velvet Room. Talk to your cat damn it.

Oh no, she’s cute and Alice-in-Wonderland themed. I’m doomed.

She called it her “EMMA keyword” and I immediately blurted “what? keyword??” and then everything went directly to Hell immediately. Keyword was the key word, I guess. X’‘‘‘DDD

And you can tell it’s been six months, considering that these nerds got caught almost immediately. And got their hands bound. And got dragged to the throne room and forced to kneel!

...I’m doomed.

Someone at Atlus looked directly at this fandom and all the fanart of the interrogation and said, “Yeah, they’d be into that.” XD Steppy steppy. At least she’s not a rapist like Kamoshida, but jeeze, we keep getting beaten up and thrown in the dungeon by royalty. All we need is a princess and we’ve got a whole royal family!

Although, I suppose the prince didn’t bother with a dungeon. XD

I think it’s interesting that apparently the guards tried to take our Desires and failed. I guess being a persona-user means your mental state is stable enough that something like that can’t manifest.

Oh no, she’s cute. I love her. Another for the collection of Joker’s baby siblings. This is number... 5? She kind of reminds me of Jose, a little. I’ll be interested to see what she is, since she’s got amnesia right now. She can’t be just a straight AI.

But if she’s Yald’s mom, I’m also going to be majorly weirded out.

I really like the gameplay? It’s so interesting to see how the characters move and fight when they’re not limited to turn-based attacks. And I like being able to jump to different points and use them to ambush enemies. I don’t fully understand all of it yet, and it’s hard for me to keep an eye on things like status ailments and my teammates because everything is so chaotic, but I’m sure I’ll get it.

I did die to a miniboss, and when I hit “return to checkpoint”, it gave me the prompt to select a language for the voice acting again. I dunno what was up with that. X’D And I’m baffled by the concept that you can just leave the metaverse and come back and it restores all your health and stuff. No penalty. Time doesn’t pass. You didn’t waste a day. Have the kids finally learned that we are capable of entering and exiting more than once on the same day? Hallelujah.

...this boy is angry that we have to deal with the Jails instead of having a BBQ feast. Never change, Yusuke.

If you go by the crepe shop in Shibuya, Morgana still doesn’t think you’re a crepe person. I’m so tired, Morgana. It’s also a bit weird and forced that Iwai and Takemi are both out of town. We couldn’t have seen at least one of them? I know we’re not gonna be able to use those shops when we’re on the road, but we could worry about that then.

(Disturbingly easy to return a gold bar that you apparently bought off the dark web. Omg. That was hilarious.)

AND THEN YOU GET UP THE NEXT DAY AND ZENKICHI IS JUST IN YOUR HOUSE? SITTING IN THAT CHAIR? That is not the “detective chair”, sir, that is my boyfriend’s chair, and you need to move. At least he likes the curry, but jesus fuck. Sir, I have unresolved trauma of adults coming into my house to snoop into my business. Get out of my house. X’D

You give me a detective sitting in my boyfriend’s chair and then immediately send me to a taping of the same show in the same studio where I first met him. God, P5S, you’re trying to kill me.

Alice clearly knows that giving out the keyword is doing something. She’s being very deliberate about this. But I don’t think she’s actually aware of the Jail. Love that she’s so arrogant that she can’t imagine that Akira just... didn’t use the keyword, and that’s why she can’t control him.

So I guess the Jail Monarchs are called such because they’re imprisoning other people’s shadows in their distortions. So these are people that want control over something to the point that it distorted their worldview. Part of me wants to go off on a ramble about how this relates to Mementos or Apathy Syndrome, but I’ll wait and do that when I have more information. I’ve got some more of the dungeon to do, and I cannot wait to see Alice’s boss fight.

I’m having so much fun. I really missed these kids; they’re grea--

.......I hate these children. X’‘‘‘‘DDDD

[imagineddworld]

Spilling the truth

Pairing: Merlin x Reader

Summary: Your parents were good friends with King Uther, but had been killed. So other decided to take you in. But once you start spilling the truth, Merlin takes advantage of it.

word count: 3,5 k (3582)

You never liked the idea of having a maid, or standing higher up a rank than other people. You didn’t like being a royal. And surely didn’t like Uther’s way of thinking about certain things, such as magic or whom you may fall in love with. Royalty should stick with royalty. Total nonsense. 

While the 2 years of your stay, you had developed a crush on a special boy, named Merlin. You had fallen in love with Merlin, the servant of Arthur. He had the dreamiest blue eyes, the sweetest smile and soft black hair. He was sweet, funny and very easy to talk with. You could be yourself around him, without your title of royalty being frowned upon. But if Uther ever found out about your little crush, or anyone in particular you would be doomed. He forbad any sort of relationships between royalty and their servants. Even if you didn’t saw yourself as a royal, Uther did. Everyone else did too. You hated the rankings of people, but you couldn’t do anything about it. It is something everyone was born with, wether you liked it or not. You were just lucky to be born into a royal family. But they had died two years ago. An enemy had attack your parents kingdom. Out of protection they had send you to safety, but failed to safe themselves. They fallen together with their kingdom and their village. They had tried to protect their people, but came to die doing so. That was the reason why you ended up here. Uther and your parents had been friends, or something close to friends. The news traveled fast and soon Arthur was asking Uther to take you in. The two of you had grew up together, visiting one another plenty of times, so you saw each other as a sibling. 

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

Your maid helped you find a proper dress for dinner with Uther, Arthur and Morgana. She always knew how to style you. You thanked her a hundred times. You treated her as a friend. Never less than you. You always wanted to know her opinions and perspective on things. You truly wanted to get to know her. She was a very lovely girl, and deserved a better life than being just a maid. She was too pure and innocent to live such an unfair life. Sadly enough you didn’t had the power to give her a better position in society. So in the meanwhile you tried to make her life as good as possible. “Thank you so much, Elaia. You always pick the right dresses”, you said while hugging her to show your gratitude. 

You quickly walked down the staircases to the Great hall were Uther and the others were expecting you. You greeted them elegantly, softly lifting your dress as you bowed down a little through your leg. “Good evening. Let’s get to the table, now you’re finally here”, Uther said, while leading the way. As you sat down in front of Morgana, your glass of wine was already full. You didn’t payed much attention to it, as Merlin was serving dinner. He carefully placed the plates with food in front of each one of you. As he came closer to you, to be able to place the plate in front of you, you felt your cheeks blush a slight pink. “Thank you”, you whispered to him, being the only one to actually thank him for his service.

Uther lifted his glass as a sign that we could start our dinner. I took a sip of my wine, which tasted a little odd. A bit bitter. But you brushed it off, since you didn’t liked wine that much anyway. It was probably just you. “So Morgana, what are your plans for this evening?”, Uther asked. She had started to tell a vague excuse, instead of telling him the truth. But who would blame her. Uther was very strict and didn’t allowed much. Only this time, you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking the words, you promised to keep hidden. “Probably sneaking out again, when everyone is asleep”, you mumbled. As soon as you registered what you just said, your covered your mouth with one of your hand as your eyes went round. Morgana had shot you a confused look, while a subtle grin had grew on her lips. “Excuse me?”, you heard Arthur asked. Clearly being as shocked as you. “Well, at least i am secretive about it. Can’t be said about you constantly staring at Merlin”, She replied back proudly. This time your mouth had fallen open. Shocked anyone even knew. Was it that obvious? You hoped Merlin hadn’t heard this, but too bad. At the mention of his name, his head had shot up. Clearly not expecting to hear his name in a sentence with those words. 

“I think that’s enough”, Arthur said, before any further argument could start. He had a point. This was unnecessary. But you felt that urgent feeling of speaking again. It burned your throat. Before you even knew it, the words fell out of your mouth, like a waterfall of a high cliff. “Afraid that your secret will get spilled too? As if we don’t know what you do at night, and especially with who”, you had said too confidently. Immediately your hands covered your face, trying to shut yourself up. Why did you do this? Why were you suddenly so determined to tell the truth? What was happening to you? It felt like your mouth had a brain of its own. Whatever it was, it had ruined your friendship between you and Arthur. 

As expected Arthur got up angrily and looked at you in a way he had never done. He was beyond furious. A rage filled and hateful glare was shot your way. He had opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it. He only shook his head while looking slightly at the ground. It felt like an arrow was shot right through your heart. You had such a close bond with him. He had trusted you with his secret, and in just a few seconds you had ruined not only yours but also his life. You didn’t know why you were spilling the truth. You felt so horrible. You didn’t meant to tell any of those things, but it was as if something was forcing you to tell the truth. 

“Enough”, Uther yelled as he stood up with his hands still leaning on the table. “You are all dismissed”. As soon as those words left his mouth, you walked rapidly towards your room. “My lady, what is wrong?”, Elaia asked worriedly, seeing your saddened expression. “Don’t worry about it, Elaia. You can go home early today. I’ll be fine on my own”, you said, wanting to be alone for the rest of the day. “Are you sure, my lady?” You looked at the ground for a few seconds. You forced a smile onto your face: “How much i like your presence, i would like to be alone for a bit. I need to do some thinking. Besides it’s not fair to flood you with my problems, while you have so much of your own to cary. Go home, get some rest. Take one of my blankets and some food. I have more than enough”, You said while filling a bag with two of your blankets, some bread and some fruit. “Oh lady, I can’t do that”, she stressed. She always felt bad whenever you offered her something. She felt like taking advantage of you, due to being so close to you. But that was nonsense. You placed the bag on top of your wooden desk, as you searched for a small piece of paper. “Oh come on, surely you can. You are my friend. You have done so much already”, you said before writing down your note to one of your guards. It said you had given her permission to take those things to her home, as a gift from you. “Here take this”, you said as you placed the bag in her arms, while carefully placing the note into her hand. “Show this to the guard who has a little limp. He will let your through without any trouble.” With a little hesitation, she finally came into movement. She hugged you tightly, to show her gratefulness, while thanking you a million times. She carefully made her way towards the guard you had described to her. He was one of the survivors of the attack. He had been send with you, to protect you at all cost. He had knew other rules and had saw other perspectives back at your home, so he always gladly let Elaia slip past him with your little gifts.

You sighed deeply, while letting yourself fall onto the bed. You were finally alone. You couldn’t hold your tears any longer. You had ruined everything. Everything you had build up, was gone in just a few seconds. Every bond you had, was ruined by a few words fleeing your mouth as if it were nothing. You were sure Arthur would convince Uther to kick you out, or worse, kill you. He was the one who gave him the idea to take you in, so this would only be fair. 

You were sobbing quietly for a few minutes already, when a knock on your door made you jump up. You wiped the tears from your face, while swallowing the tick lump that had formed in your throat. “Who is it?”, you tried to keep your voice steady, but the little cracks made their way through it. “It’s Merlin. Can I come in?”, he asked sweetly. He couldn’t see you like this. He had seen you cry before, when you had been forced to watch a villager get punished by Uther. But this time it was different. This time you looked pathetic, while crying like a baby. You had caused this, so you shouldn’t pity yourself. “Please, just leave me alone, Merlin”. He was quiet for a few seconds, thinking if it would be right to leave you alone in such a fragile state. “Please, can I come in?”, he pleaded again. But with no luck. “No, because you will distract me with your good looks”, you said ,unaware of which words were actually leaving your mouth. It had slipped out before you could register it. You sighed and fell with your face into your pillow. “Just leave, Merlin” you groaned, voice muffled due to the pillow. You hated your honesty. As if you didn’t made yourself look like a fool already. 

You spend a good couple of minutes in silence, not being completely sure if he had left or not. A few silent tears had fallen onto your cheeks, as your mind started racing again. You felt as if you were slowly going mental. “Merlin”, you asked quietly. Not really knowing if you wanted him to be gone or wanted him still to be there. “Yes”, he replied. “Oh, you didn’t leave?”, you said somewhat surprised. You heard him chuckle lightly: “Nope, still here”. You flipped over onto your back, sighing a little of the heavy feeling that pulled onto your heart and crushed your chest. “I messed up, didn’t I?” Your hands rubbed into your eyes tiredly. “No, you didn’t. He knows well enough that you would never say those things on purpose”, you sighed hearing this. You wanted to believe him, but you doubted it. “He hates me”. The sadness and emotions could be clearly heard in your voice, which made his heart ache. He scoffed a little. “No, he doesn’t. He could never..”, he paused for a few seconds, thinking if he should say his following words or not. “How could anyone hate you?” You could sense his smile by how his voice sounded. “I don’t know, Merlin. I would never forgive myself, so why would he”. His comment had made a small sparkle appear, but the sadness was too much to bare this time. Even if Merlin didn’t saw your face, he could clearly hear your broken heart speak for its own. He softly knocked onto your thick wooden door, announcing he was going to come in. But he waited respectfully for you to show any refusal. As you didn’t made a sound, he slowly pushed the door open. He saw you laying onto the bed, all curled into a little ball while silent tears fell from your eyes. Your eyes were slowly getting puffy and red. His heart broke at the sight of you. “I don’t even know why I said those things. It was like I couldn’t control the words from fleeing my mouth”, you said while avoiding eye contact. He crouched down in front of you, softly laying his big hand onto your cheek. He softly caressed it for a few seconds, before he spoke:“Just as i thought, magic”. This time you didn’t avoid his loving eyes. “What?”, you were confused. You knew magic existed, but why would someone want to cast a spell on you. Also how would they have done it? 

“Did you do anything different or ate something that tasted off?”, he asked. You thought for a bit. Nothing came to your mind that was out of it’s usual behavior. “I don’t think so”, you said while still searching through all the things you had done today, “Well, expect for my wine. It tasted a bit bitter, like an odd bitterness. But it was probably just me”. He nodded his head, taking in the information you just said. His eyes focused on the wall, while he slowly got swallowed into his thoughts. A small smile started to grow onto his face.  “Well, let’s test it”, he said a little too excited. “What? NO”, you replied quickly , sitting up straight now. He softly tapped his fingers on his lips, in a way of thinking. “Hmm, what can I ask”, he thought out loud, trying to tease you a little. You sighed as you fell back with your back onto your mattress. He had a sparkle in his eyes as a bigger grin grew on his lip. “What do you like the most about me?”, he asked amused. He obviously remembered Morgana’s comment earlier at dinner. “No merlin, don’t make me do this”, you said while grabbing a pillow and pushing it onto your face. You wanted to shrink away. You bit your lip as hard as you could, while the feeling of speaking came again. It burned your throat and pushed down onto your chest. The feeling grew stronger the longer you kept yourself shut. You started to stomp a little with your legs onto the mattress, fists gripping the blankets underneath you. Due to your movement, the pillow had fallen from your face, next to your head. You softly shook your head side to side, still refusing to speak. 

You heard Merlin laugh a little. He adored the way how you looked. Seeing you struggle to not tell him the truth, was cute to him. You were cute in general. He totally adored you. The way you cared for others, no matter their position in society. You didn’t had the typical mindset most royalty have. You were the kindest, sweetest and most beautiful person he had ever saw.

You couldn’t hold it any longer, it really started to hurt. You rolled over onto your front, leaning onto your elbows. “Well, you are funny and very easy to talk with. And god, you are breathtakingly gorgeous. Like your sparkling eyes and that damn smile”, you said, last part a bit muffled as you had lowered your face into the pillow again. You wanted to keep quiet but couldn’t. Once you had started talking it, you couldn’t stop. “Oh, I am flattered”, Merlin chuckled softly, which made you groan into the fabric. But because your eyes were closed, you had missed the slight blush that had crept onto his face.  He kept laughing lightly, so you grabbed a pillow from besides you and threw at him. Obviously he caught it before it could hit him. He adored the way you were acting right now, all flustered and shy. Teasing you was one of the best ideas he had. “Hmm”, he said thinking of a new question. “Is true that you secretly stare at me?” You rolled over onto your back again, annoyed by his questions. “Ugh, yes”, you groaned while your hands covered your face. You should just accept your faith, and hope you soon would get kicked out so you wouldn’t need to rethink of this humiliation ever again. He chuckled at your quick reply, while he whispered a soft ‘Oh wow’ under his breath. He wasn’t laughing because of your feelings. He laughed because your behavior was cute to him. But it also way a way of coping with his anxious feelings, as he was risking to get his own feelings hurt, if you didn’t actually liked him back. He kept thinking someone was pulling a joke on him. As if you ever could possibly feel the same for him. 

“One more question”, he said a little more nervous now. You sat up on the bed, your legs dangling over the edge of the mattress. “No please. No more questions. Isn’t this humiliating enough already?”, you asked him, finally being able to look at him. He was leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed over his chest. A loving smile covering his face. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’ll help you”, he said, pushing himself away from his position on the wall. He slowly made his way to you, grabbing your small hands to pull you onto your feet. You stumbled a bit forward, due to the sudden force. This caused you to bump into his chest.  There were only a few inches between the two of you. You felt the heat go to your head, making it beet red. You tried to find a point to focus your gaze on, while you softly nibbled onto your lip. Nerves were overflowing you. In the meanwhile you didn’t realize Merlin’s behavior. He softly switched his weight from side to side. His hands started to tremble a bit. Breathing became a bit more difficult. He was focussed on his thoughts, trying to find the right words. He softly breathed out, making your shiver a little. “But before I’ll help, I must ask you something important”, he spoke softly. You swallowed thickly, not knowing why you were so shy all of sudden. “What.. what must ..that be?”, you stuttered a little. “Are you in love with me?” The words fell easily from his mouth. Shock overtook you. Your eyes went round, and your mouth fell a little open. You opened and closed your mouth multiple times, but no words came out. You were terrified, but what had you to lose? You had made a huge fool of yourself already, might as well admit it. “Yes”, you whispered, still not daring to look up. He probably would laugh in your face. 

He was quiet for a little while, so you took this as a sign he didn’t felt the same. You slowly stepped away from him, making your way towards the door. But you got pulled back by your arm. He smoothly spun you in a circle, so you ended up chest to chest with him. You were so close to him that your noses slightly bumped into one another. You felt his warm breath on your skin, making goosebumps appear on that specific place. He placed one of his big hands onto your cheek, while the other softly laid onto your waist. He started to lean in a little, while you hesitated to follow him. But as soon as his soft lips ended onto yours, you melted into his touch. The kiss felt magical. As if finally all your feelings could fly freely into the air. He pulled you closer towards him, while your hands grabbed onto his shirt. This is what both of you had longed for. It felt like a huge weight had fallen off your shoulders, now you were in his arms. You felt safe. You felt like you were home. 

As both of you parted away, you stayed cuddled close in one another’s arms. “Wow”, he said breathless while a huge smile grew brighter on his face. “If Uther ever knew”, you laughed, as you softly shook your head at the ridiculousness of his rules. “He won’t find out. I’ll promise you”, he said, kissing you again. Only this time more passionately, all his feelings were put into the kiss. As you pulled apart a second time, he playfully whispered in your ear: “Let’s get you cured, so our little secret won’t get exposed”. This made you hit him in the chest, as you pouted. He laughed at your childlike behavior. He wrapped his arms around your small frame, making your pout disappear as fast as it had came. You handed him your washing bin, before he could leave your room. “Don’t want to look suspicious, do we?”, you whispered to him, as you closed your door behind him. He smiled at you, still in disbelieve you actually liked him back. This was a day to never forget. Even if you had ruined so much, with Merlin by your side it’ll eventually would be alright. 

[shadeofazmeinya]

Heyo! King AU where Gavin's responsible for the crack in Ryan's crown? Maybe prince Gavin breaks into the uncharacteristically empty throne room and simply cannot resist trying on the King’s crown. He's draped across the throne, crown atop his head when King Ryan’s voice is just like “and I thought I looked good in gold.” Gavin is so startled that the crown falls from his head and crashes to the floor - and when Ryan glares at Gavin with the golden pieces in his hand, Gavin knows he’s fucked

Gavin knew the second the door opened to the empty room he shouldn’t have gone in. But he isn’t even supposed to be in this hall in the first place, so what’s one more tresspassing on top of all the others. Closing the door as quietly as possible, he shuffles across the floor. Streams of light streak across the throne, darkening in purple stained glass catching the setting sun. Though Gavin has seen the room when he had first entered for this strange negotiation that his parents, the King and Queen, are refusing to explain to him, the throne room is still just as breathtaking. Even more at the emptiness seems to be heard, his breath echoing softly.

It feels haunted without the imposing posture of the King here, sitting at the throne and staring down at his subjects with those bright blue eyes. Gavin’s heard about this King, the whole bloody world has, with how he was a strict and genius ruler. Terrifying but respected. Sure Gavin may be a Prince and sure he may have lived with royalty his whole life in his own kingdom. But this King, King Ryan, was a practical diety at the throne amongst the rest of them. A deity’s whose territory maybe he shouldn’t be imposing but he can’t stop this far.

There’s a glint, a small shine that catches his attention as his feet keep pushing him in. It takes a moment, as his hand reaches out, to see what it really is. The Crown.

It’s an intricate thing, covered in amethysts and obsidian to reflect the colors of the kingdom. And the gold, nearly reflecting his face back with how perfect it was shined. Gavin dares to reach out and touch it, fingers brushing over the beauty of it. It’s cold, just silent gold, but not as cold as he thought it would be.

He knows he shouldn’t. But as he glances around, and sees the place eerily empty, he can’t help himself. He’s years away from his own rule, from possessing a crown as intricate and large as this. If he even rules at all, he knows his younger siblings are favored more than him. He’s too trusting, too curious, he’s been told. His father doesn’t trust him not to run the kingdom to the ground apparently.

There’s a bit of anger that fuels him, not that he’d admit it. It brings confidence as he places the crown upon his head, as he sits upon the throne. A fantasy surrounds him, imagining people below him, asking for his advice, his help. People praising him, bowing. A smile curls on his face at it blinds him, as the false pride floods him. He never notices the footsteps as he looks out at his council of ghosts, hearing the other far too late.

“The crown nearly looks as good on you as it does on me,” a deep voice chuckles through the chamber. Gavin’s fantasy shatters like glass as he whips around, the crown toppling off his head as he sees who is now alone with him in the chamber.

The very Stoneworld King himself.

“Y-your Majesty-“ Gavin stammers as he tries to catch the crown that falls. But his fingers are too slow in his panic and it slips beneath his fingers, landing to the ground with a crack that sounds his doom.

Gavin watches in horror as a piece of the crown falls off, a dent that he caused. “I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to, King Ryan. An accident, I swear-“

He cuts off as the King bends down to the crown, plucking it up with delicate fingers. Gavin expects his face to be fueled with anger but there’s almost a... curiousity in it. “A King can always have another crown made,” he hums as he examines the new crack. “I think I like it better this way. Much more intimidating,” he says with a smirk breaking across his face.

“I can get a new one made, my father, the Jungle King-“

The King huffs at the mention of this and he holds up a hand to stop him. “Your father has offered enough in our meetings already. Far more than he should be allowed to give.” Here his eyes roam over Gavin’s figure, and Gavin’s heart seems to want to burst out of his chest. “How involved are you in these dealings?”

Gavin’s throat runs dry as words fail him for a moment. “I-I’m not... This is between the Kings, I’m not-“

King Ryan hums and there’s almost a moment of... pity across his face. “As I thought. Come to the next meeting, my request. Even if your father insists otherwise.”

Gavin’s face falls in confusion but nods anyway, having no idea what he means but not going to go against his wishes. Not after he’s apparently going to spare him from what should be grounds for execution, breaking the King’s crown. “I’ll be there if you wish, Your Majesty.”

“Now go,” he waves his hand and Gavin nearly falls out of the chair with the dawning realization he’s still standing on the throne. “I’m sure I’ll be seeing much more of you Prince Gavin. I hope you keep our meetings as interesting, if less destructive, as this one.”

Gavin bows and practically runs from the room, wondering what the hell this meant and what the hell is going to happen now.

[pellicano-sanguino]

Today I went to see a play that’s based on the Little Vampire books by Angela Sommer-Bodenburg. I know, it’s embarrassing for an adult to go see a play for children, but I have a strong nostalgic connection to these books. They introduced me to the concept of vampires and got me hooked on the genre. So, here are some random thoughts about the play.

I should probably say a word or two about the books first. The first book came out during the 80s and after re-reading it a while ago, I must admit some parts of it haven’t aged that well (also, I’m no longer the intended target audience). I will give Sommer-Bodenburg credit for not watering down her vampires into child friendly versions. There are a lot of childrens’ vampire fiction where they clearly just wanted the aesthetics of vampires, not the actual brutal reality of vampirism like blood drinking and, you know, the whole being undead thing. Angela Sommer-Bodenburg doesn’t pussyfoot around the creepier aspects of vampire culture. Her vampires drink blood (except Anna, who hasn’t grown her fangs yet), and they talk about their deaths quite frankly and openly, including that they were turned by their own family members. 

The basic premise is a small boy named Anton befriending some vampire children and them trying to hang out with each other while keeping it secret from each other’s families. The play is based on the first book of the series and I think it’s a pretty decent and quite faithful adaptation. They’ve changed some things, but not much and the plot follows the book accurately.

Not gonna lie, the actor playing Anton was really wooden and fake, like a cardboard cutout. That’s the problem of having grown adults play small children. I know theater is all about suspending your disbelief (like in Takarazuka, believing that the clearly female otokoyaku are in fact male on the stage), but somehow I just have trouble buying Anton’s performance. Doesn’t help that he speaks in a very formal version of Finnish that no child speaks in real life. He tries so hard to make his voice and body language appear childlike, but it’s just not working. 

Rydiger on the other hand is fantastic. He’s quite different than the Rydiger from the books, but I don’t mind. In the books, Rydiger was my least favourite of the vampire children but here he is the best one of them and the best actor in the whole play. Instead of being a bratty, insufferable gremlin, he has elegant mannerisms, pleasant voice and he’s the most reasonable and caring of the vampire siblings. It’s not book accurate, but I approve. I especially like how this Rydiger talks and uses his body language. Unlike Anton, who shouldn’t be speaking in formal Finnish, Rydiger was raised over a hundred years ago and so was taught different kinds of speech and manners. He really comes off like a creature from another time. I love his little hand gestures, and his costume is so stylish and much more nice looking than the ragged gremlin-Rydiger from the books. Despite his adult-like mannerisms, Rydiger still acts like a child, much more accurately than Anton.

I fail to see what this cooler version of Rydiger sees in the boring, wooden block that is Anton. I totally see what Anton sees in Rydiger, who wouldn’t want a stylish little vampire friend. In the books I criticized Anton’s reasons for keeping up his friendship with Rydiger. In the books, Rydiger was a rude little shit, constantly making fun of Anton, stealing his books and being generally a real jerk. I thought, that if Rydiger wasn’t a vampire, Anton would never put up with such a lousy friend. Anton only tolerated Rydiger’s bullshit because he was a vampire and having a vampire friend was cool. Kids, don’t keep up friendships with people just because you like what they are, the more important thing is who they are. Anyway, in the play I can more easily buy their friendship (yes, Rydiger gets his moments of being a jerkface, but not nearly as badly as in the books). The scene where Rydiger teaches Anton how to fly was very adorable. And because the child characters were being played by grown adults, also kinda...  romantic?

“I’m flying, Jack! I’m flying!”

Anton’s parents were your token Normal People (TM) of the show. Both in the play and in the book they make fun of Anton’s interest in vampires, especially his mother (I swear, Angela Sommer-Bodenburg must have had some mother issues). It’s very sad to see parents mock the interests of their child. I know the feeling, it’s one of the reasons I always place the books I read down cover first so that no one can read the cover and call me stupid for liking a book like that. I’m so conditioned to do this, I do it even when I’m all alone at home. Do not mock your childrens’ interests, people, it will have long lasting effects. 

For whatever reason they changed Geiermeier the vampire hunter’s name to...  I don’t quite remember, Kalmankulma or something similar. Anton’s surname was changed to a Finnish name too, and they’ve updated the story to modern times, since they talk about euros instead of marks. But Anton’s family still has a corded phone, and Anna could call them from a phone booth. It’s weird they updated some parts but also kept some things that have become obsolete tech since the 80s. 

Man, did they fuck up Anna. I hated the look they gave her. What is up with that white, poofy hair, she looks like an old granny, not a five or six year old little girl. And why is her dress so short, we do not need to see her legs all the way up. Ugh, and how they failed with her character. Everything good that I said about Rydiger they must have cut off from book-Anna. In the book, Anna is the kindest, smartest and most humane of all the vampire children. The boys are selfish assholes who treat Anton like a fun toy, but Anna actually genuinely cares about the feelings of their human friend. She is also a strong independent young lady who has a fiery temper and will not tolerate any sass from her mean spirited brothers. Her only downside is that she’s a victim of a really annoying childrens’ book trope, namely that whenever there’s another female character around she becomes jealous of Anton and is unnecessarily rude to the other girls. I get it, kids can be bratty and jealous, but can we please stop teaching little girls the stupid lie that all girls are each others’ enemies and must fight for the attention of boys. For fuck’s sake, let girls be friends with each other, thinking they can only be friends with boys is ridiculous and misogynistic!

Well, Anna of the play is not smart, caring or strong (unless you count annoying, noisy hissy fits as strength, I guess). She has turned into a brainless diva, who simultaneously is smitten by Anton and also doesn’t care what he has to say about anything. Why would you do this to my favourite character!? In the books there were some really heartfelt scenes between Anna and Anton. Like, when Anna proposes the idea that when she gets her fangs she could bite Anton and turn him so that they could be friends forever, and Anton makes it very clear that he has no intention of ever becoming a vampire. This saddens Anna, because it means that Anton will grow to be an adult but Anna and her siblings will forever remain children, with no one to play with. These two must come to an understanding that while they like each other very much, they belong in two different worlds and they must accept that it means they will one day have to say goodbye. All things come to an end, it’s only a matter of when and how. So, why wasn’t a meaningful scene like that in the play?

Finally, we have Lumpi (whose name was changed to Leo in the play). I think he was fine, maybe suffering from a tiny bit of overacting, but still an ok performance. He doesn’t get much screentime, because in the first book we don’t get to see him much. Which is a shame because he is my favourite right after Anna. 

If you thought Claudia from Interview with the Vampire was the most tragic of all child vampires, then clearly, you have not met Lumpi von Schlotterstein. He was turned right in the middle of going through puberty. And so, he is doomed for all eternity to suffer from acne, breaking voice and mood swings. Truly, a lamentable fate is his.

Adding Lumpi to the vampire children friending Anton added a lot of dramatic tension to the group. Because of his mood swings, Lumpi was unpredictable and sometimes even downright threatening. Out of all the vampire kids, he had the least control over his vampire instincts and there were several moments where he considered drinking Anton. So scenes with him could be really intense. Also, he was supposed to be the vain kid with style, being especially proud of his long, sharp fingernails that he cared and filed constantly. They took his style and gave it to Rydiger, they took his vanity and gave it to Anna. Well, he still had a nice, red shirt that went well together with his white scarf and black cape.

Rydiger’s grandmother Sabine also makes an appearance. Strange that they added Sabine and not aunt Dorothee, who was the most dangerous, most blood thirsty of all the von Schlotterstein vampires. In the books Dorothee is the one the kids need to look out for whenever Anton’s visiting their home in the graveyard. There’s a scene where Anton has to hide in Rydiger’s coffin because of her and in the play they do the scene with Sabine. Well, maybe they thought any old vampire lady will do. Also they clearly wanted her to be more comedic relief character, not a threatening, blood drinking monster. Just like Dorothee in the book, Sabine commands Rydiger to go back to sleep and he has to cram himself into his coffin with Anton still there. Once Sabine’s gone, the boys get out and sigh in relief, and Lumpi comments “Well, did you take advantage of the opportunity, brother?” Look, I know he means blood drinking, but these kids being played by adults I can’t help but think about gay vampires sharing a coffin. Doesn’t help that Rydiger replies with a disgusted “Of course not! I’m not like you!” Which enrages Lumpi, because “W-w-what are you implying!?” I’m sorry, my mind is in the gutter, but I can’t help it. Carmilla and Anne Rice have made me see lesbian and gay vampires everywhere.

Well, for a small budget childrens’ play, it was a fun show. Wished they hadn’t changed some of the characters so drastically, but overall it was pretty book accurate, which was a relief (I was worried they were going to make a story of their own and just use the characters’ names, like that awful movie version). A nice nostalgic visit back to the first vampire books I ever read.

[moviegroovies]

so to me, one of the hallmarks of a good piece of media is people willingly thinking about the characters after it’s over.

obviously, this isn’t like, a 100% success rate kind of thing. there are objectively good, enjoyable pieces of media out there that have no “fandom” type presence on the internet, because, while it exhibited great worldbuilding/storytelling/framing/what have you, it just wasn’t made up of the kinds of characters that people latch on to; the joke about avatar (2009) having less than 100 fics on ao3 despite being the best selling movie of all time for a solid decade is well known because of this phenomenon exactly. amazing cgi, solid plot, but at the end of the day, not that many people cared about jake sully. even still, i think this character-imprinting thing has an important, often overlooked role in intrinsically endearing people to movies that, outside of this factor, might be easily forgettable or even outright disliked. 

case in point: my movie of the day/week/month (how often do i post on this blog, anyway?)....

that’s right, lads, today i’m going to talk about the lost boys. 

if you’ve seen the lost boys, you’ll probably know that it’s not like, objectively, a masterpiece. in fact, if i were feeling particularly uncharitable, it would be easy for me to describe it as a fairly straightforward, low-budget horror b-movie, with a aesop-heavy and simplistic plot and a penchant for cheesy special effects, saved only by its rockin’ soundtrack.

...but i won’t.

i won’t, because using that description would leave out a detail i think it’s completely unfair of me not to touch on: the characters. i love them!! i was hooked from just about the very start of the movie by david’s creepy, affably evil leadership style, sam’s dorky little brother-ness, and michael’s 3cool5school airs. each of the characters, down to the frog brothers (named edgar and allan after the esteemed mr. poe, which really tickled me), the other lost boys, grandpa, lucy, and max, have their own distinct quirkiness that makes them memorable and draws me to want to explore more of their world, more of their stories. 

not enough to watch the infamous direct-to-dvd sequels, of course, but you get what i’m saying. 

there’s an old tip in writing that says something along the lines of “good characters can save a bad plot, but a good plot can’t save bad characters,” and that pretty much sums up my thoughts exactly on this movie. like, the plot itself is pretty much the message ‘peer pressure is bad’ wrapped up in some ugly monster makeup; not exactly cult classic material. however, like i’ve said, the characters and the fact that we get genuine, endearing interactions between them outside of just furthering the plot save it from the dumpster fire and, together, put together a story greater than the sum of its parts. no, it’s not a fuckin’ cinematic masterpiece by any stretch of the words, but it’s a fun movie, and there’s a reason i’ve watched it four times in the past three days, you know? 

(a good chunk of that reason was me slowly losing my grip on my sanity as i frantically put in the dvd over and over again, desperately trying to make myself attracted to kiefer sutherland so i could enjoy the movie to the fullest extent of my ability. i’m proud to announce a perfect success rate, and a slightly degraded sense of taste in men, reflecting the completion of that goal. 

if you too want to find something to lust after beyond his objectively ugly as sin face, trust me when i say it’s all in the voice. mmmmm) 

my favorite thing that the lost boys did was the exploration of different types of friendship and familial bonds. that’s the most striking thing about the movie for me; not only are the characters individuals whom i would like to explore, their interactions with each other are touching and worth exploring in their own right. there’s definitely something about some stories that drives people to write fanfiction (or is that just me? ha ha), and imo, the lost boys totally has it. in fact, while the fandom is sitting pretty at 600+ fics on ao3 (take that, avatar), i was honestly sort of surprised there weren’t more, exploring all the interesting ‘what if’s’ the film presented, and expounding on the bonds that we got to see the effects of in the limited screentime we had. 

what i liked about those bonds was that there were such a multitude of them. there were quite a few platonic bonds making up the crux of the movie (being, in my opinion, much more interesting than the main romantic bond which was explored through star and michael, although isn’t that kind of always the case in these 80′s teen movies? i can’t think of a single designated couple i was actually invested in except for veronica sawyer and jason dean... ferris bueller and sloane peterson, maybe? but i also feel like those two were making a cameron sandwich, so idk if it counts lol), but the way they were treated was cool in that they were unique: we got to see two different kinds of sibling bonds, with michael and sam emerson joking around in an easy, teasing way that totally screamed “wow, this movie was written by someone who actually has a brother” to me (isn’t it sad that some people have clearly never so much as seen a set of siblings in their life, judging by the way they write them?) while edgar and allan frog seem to take themselves more seriously, like a pair of army buddies, we got to see the pack-like bond of the lost boys and the (mostly) good-natured way they hazed michael into their group before things went to shit with them, we got to see star (and some of the lost boys, if you pay attention) being protective and maternal around laddie, and we got to see the uneasy alliance turned nerdy friendship between the frogs and sam. there are also three parent-child bonds that get explored, between lucy and her father (it’s a pretty sweet take on the kindhearted grown child taking care of senile-ish father thing) and lucy and her boys, each of which she has a distinct relationship with: sam is the baby, while michael she seems to level with and trust more, even after he starts getting into trouble and acting up. 

then of course there are two (three, if you count the widow johnson/grandpa emerson subplot, which.... i totally do) romantic relationships: star and michael falling in a sort of love-at-first-sight passionate relationship that soon dooms mikey and eventually saves star, while lucy tries her best to get back into the dating game with max, who is nefarious, of course, but also a little bit sad. remember what i said about what-ifs? i would love to see a fic exploring what might have happened had max’s plan worked out after all, but i guess that’s neither here nor there.

not to be a blatant slash shipper jumping on any two male characters who move or anything, but i think possibly the most important/influential relationship in the whole thing was that between david and michael; michael, obviously, got drawn into the lost boys’ circle by his insta-attraction to star, but he sticks around because of david. he pretty much ignores star once they get to the cliff that night, his attention focused on david because he’s there, and he’s intense, and michael is kind of a dumb bi bitch totally captivated. he drinks max’s blood at david’s taunting, and in direct opposition to star’s advice. there’s a lot i could say on this subject but tbh i’m running out of steam, so that might be a thing for a whole different post.

basically, there are a lot of cool interactions in this movie, and i think a lot of film makers could take note of that. even critically acclaimed, award winning movies being made in today’s world tend to fail to hit that special note, that character-imprintation which makes the audience not only stay engaged to the end, but also to care. not every movie needs that, of course; not everything can launch a darkhorse fandom the way the lost boys has, and honestly, not everything should... unless it’s trying to cater to my interests, in which case, well. 

if all movies were made to cater to my interests, i would have the time of my fucking life, but it’d probably be dark days for the rest of y’all.

thinking about it now, the lack of that element is kind of what makes me wary of the horror genre in the first place; i find so many of those movies just boring as all hell, because they’re too into the “scaring” thing without any of the “caring” thing. people, if we don’t care about the characters we’re watching, then who the fuck gives a shit if they get devoured by shitsucking vampires, anyway? finding the lost boys, a “horror” (i guess i use the term loosely) movie which relied heavily on those character interactions was honestly a godsend, because THIS is what i want to see more of. going down that line of thought, i think it’s honestly a shame and a half that the sequels which joel schumacher planned never got to see the light of day (and, of course, that we were instead left with the tribe, which for the life of me i refuse to fucking watch). the interactions between the lost boys could have been the most interesting part of the movie, if only they had been spotlighted a bit more. that would have been the case in the proposed prequel, the beginning, which would see the boys start out before they became vampires at all. reading about the script for that is honestly sending me, tbh. we could have seen that, and what we got instead were “sequels” that focused mainly on the frogs, when they connected to the original movie at all? where’s the fucking justice?

whatever. that’s the one thing about this franchise i never could stomach; all the damn frog brothers.

(till next time!)

[elliottwayne]

Elliott Wayne (Me): My Backstory

Backstory: 

1999: I was born to Bruce Wayne and Lilli Rose in the early morning of March 16th. While my parents had been in a relationship and my father knew my mother was pregnant, my mother broke up with him just before having me but ended up abandoning me in the hospital. My dad came and got me and immediately filed for full custody while the police searched for my mother. They never found her. As soon as dad was granted full custody of me he took off to tour the world, learning as many martial arts as possible. 2001: We returned to Gotham when I was two years old and dad became Batman.

2002: About a year later 12-year-old Richard Grayson came into my life, becoming my first big brother (though our relationship doesn't remain a sibling relationship in my older years) and the first Robin. Now, a small thing about me is that as a child I was a selective mute. For those who don't know selective mutism is a childhood anxiety disorder that is often accompanied by shyness or social anxiety. The reason I am giving this information is because Dick Grayson is the one who eventually helped me learn coping skills - or at least he tried to teach them as best he could to a three year old.

2004: The age of 5 is when I accidentally found out the Dick was Robin and dad was Batman. I had been looking for Dick to ask him to take me to get a late night glass of water and poor five-year-old me walked into Dick's room to see him in full Robin outfit. The next day I had followed Dick into the Batcave, fully learning the double life of my "big brother" and father.

2006: Back to my muteness, I eventually grew out of it but was diagnosed with ADHD when I was seven. When I was eight Dick and dad got into a pretty huge argument which led to Dick leaving Wayne Manor and eventually dropping the Robin Mantle and becoming Nightwing. That is also when Jason Todd came into my life, becoming my second big brother (and remaining my big brother). Jason and I quickly grew close, so close I even ended up taking on some of his personality traits, much to the teasing horror but real concern of my dad and Dick.

2007: Even though it was barely a year that Jason had been in my life when he died, eight year old me still felt his loss even if I didn't understand it yet. My dad, after that, spent a few years without a Robin but during those years I made a few changes to my life.

2009: When I was 10 I was finally told my mother's identity and why I didn't know her - how she abandoned me in the hospital.

2010: It was a full year later that I started "training" behind my father's back. If you're wondering if I was training to become a Robin, the answer is no, I just wanted to do what my big brothers and dad were doing.

2011: When I was 12 I started looking for my mother, to get answers and an explanation but my search ended up getting me kidnapped by the Joker, to this day I am still unsure of my mother's connection to the Joker. While I was being held hostage I learned of how Jason died, Joker had told me every detail of how he killed Robin and saying how Batman wasn't fast enough to save him. I was rescued by Batman but I admittedly started pushing my father away, even blaming him for my "big brother's" death.

2012: Now, I stated earlier that Dick and dad got into a huge argument that lead to Dick leaving but at the time 8 year old me didn't know that so skip to 13 year old me who -while secretly going through my father's things- found an email for Dick and I sent him an email asking what exactly happened between him and dad. All I got back were vague answers so I tracked him down and went to him, demanding answers and threatening to not go back home if I didn't get them. In hindsight that threat had no chance of working since Dick could have just called Alfred to come get me but, I got my answers anyway. The answers I got though, I just ended up pushing my dad away more. Little did I know, my dad had noticed. After being the biggest pain in the ass for Dick, I returned home and used my half-ass training to become Batkid.

I went out almost right away and got myself on Batman's and Nightwing's watch lists. At the same time that's also when Red Hood, Jason, decided to show up in Gotham. Red Hood also decided to test his speed and skills by chasing the Bat Family around Gotham City, that unfortunately included poor 13 year-old-me who was slowly starting to realize she was in over her head.

2013: A year later, still as Batkid, somehow not deterred by the red hooded lunatic, I made my first enemy, a girl about my age who called herself Psychic Flame, and trust me, the name suited her. This was also the year I started High School and the year Dick promised to keep in better contact with me, even arranging dates for us to get together and catch up. Also, Batman started to actually fully look into who Batkid was, my doom was upon me or at least it would be very soon.

2014: The next year I started 10th grade and was diagnosed with depression and generalized anxiety disorder but on a positive note, I made a new friend, Kasey Scott, a boy who was a year older than me. While I made one new friend I made four new enemies who are known as, Siren, Alexei Novikov, Biofever, and Cryowave - all of them scary as hell. I also started to understand a few things a little more and questioned others, one of the things I questioned were my growing feelings for Dick Grayson, the boy, or rather man at that point, who had taken a "big brother" role for me but now somehow felt like more. In an attempt to push away these feelings I started dating Kasey - stupid move, I know. Just as I did that, my dad found out I was Batkid and the lecture I got from dad...was (and still is) nothing compared to the other lectures I got from Alfred, Dick, and later on Jason. When dad was done lecturing me he sent me to Dick for him to start my training.

Before Dick started training me though he lectured me and then legit put me in a 'time out' corner in the Titan's tower. While with Dick and the titans though I got more than just hand-to-hand combat and weapons training. There was something I failed to mention when I began the telling of my life story, I was born a metahuman. My powers, in short, are supernatural empathy, light manipulation and generation, and entity bonding. While two of my powers I could only get guidance on, Starfire helped me learn how to use and control my light based power. I spent six months training with Dick and Starfire before I returned home for more training with my father.

2015: This next year is when Batman finally gets another Robin. 13 year old Tim Drake came into our lives trying to reunite Nightwing and Batman but Nightwing refused to take up the mantle of Robin again. I personally didn't blame him after seeing the life he had created for himself with the Titans. Seeing that reuniting Dick and my dad wasn't going to work Tim decided he'd become Robin. My dad was against this, whole-heartedly, until Tim helped him apprehend Two-Face. Not only did dad train Tim but I had assisted in his training as well. It wasn't long after that Joker reared his ugly clown head and kidnapped Tim's parents. While Batman, Robin, and I manage to track them down, unfortunately, none of us where fast enough to save them. Seeing Joker again though, the only thing that was running through my head was what he did to Jason, and I beat him the way he did Jason 8 years prior. After that catastrophe, dad adopted Tim and I had my first little brother. Dick also moved back to Gotham but stayed in his own place, and I remember he maybe came to the manor twice, to drop of Tim and I after we had gotten caught in a storm coming home from school. Also Red Hood left Gotham for a year - much to the gratefulness of my sanity.

2016: The next year, I gained a second little brother, this one biologically my little brother, well half little brother. Damian Wayne, future dubbed “Demon Spawn”. Ten year old Damian Wayne was dropped off at the door of Wayne Manor by his mother who asked dad to train him to curb his homicidal tendencies. When I met him and started talking to him, I immediately called him a "Little Precious Edge Lord" and let me tell you, it was worth it despite the glare I got. (I still occasionally call him that but now I mostly call him "Daybreak" because he’s always waking up in the super early AM). While Damian was getting accustomed to a new lifestyle and new rules he was also being trained by dad alongside me but, certain times I would train him alongside Tim.

This was also the year I put on a new suit and new mask and took on a new name, one I had earned from my technique of dealing with criminals; Silent Sleeper. This nickname comes from the fact I use a self-made crossbow with self-made, color-coded darts, the main dart being a sedative dart which inspired the "Sleeper" part of my new code name. The "Silent" part being inspired by the fact nobody knew I was there until one or more of their goons were on the floor/ground unconscious with a dart in their neck.

Also in this year, Red Hood had returned to Gotham, ready to "settle the score" or "the grudge" he had against Batman. Upon learning Red Hood had returned I went to my father, dreading the mental torment of Red Hood chasing me around Gotham City yet again. My father's response was not what I was expecting. He told me Red Hood was Jason, who had been revived. Two thoughts were going through my head at that time; 1) I have my favorite big brother back, 2) I'm going to fucking murder the son of a bitch myself. A few nights passed and I cornered Red Hood in a non-residential part of Gotham and began screaming at him. (I am told that was one of the most confusing and scary things Jason has ever experienced before I took off my mask). So, a very confused Red Hood demanded to know who the hell I was and how I knew his full name so in frustration I ripped off my mask. The second Jason processed what his eyes were showing him, that his "baby sister" was the Silent Sleeper, and that Nightwing had piped up telling him I had also been Batkid, that was when the screaming match truly started. It ended with Jason having a bloody nose and black eye and me having a major migraine.

On top of that drama I had decided to break up with Kasey, finally admitting to myself that I just didn't have true feelings for him. The break up ended up being mutual since he also didn't have true feelings for me, we agreed to just remain friends.

Oh, the best part of the year!? That was when Talia Al-Ghul decided to kidnap my father and I because she decided she wanted her son back, yeah that was fun. Dad and I were rescued after his mind got messed with and dear Talia tried to murder me. Damian then declared that he wanted nothing to do with his mother, and I just respected my little brother a great deal more after that. Dad then sent Damian to train and learn from monks, hoping it would help Damian with his anger and his violent tendencies.

To not be sarcastic, the truly best part of the year was when I decided to tell Dick how I really felt about him and learning he returned my feelings and we actually started our relationship. Dick also went back to the GCPD and Jason learned of what I did to the Joker...after he did it himself. Jay also began to try to repair his relationship with Dick, dad, Tim, and I, while trying to create one with Damian.... (The headaches...oh god the headaches).

2017: Jason was still working on repairing his relationships not just with us but with other people as well and I can tell you that he succeeded. Damian returned home, still Damian, sarcastic little edge lord, but a lot better at controlling his anger. Upon Damian's return Tim took the mantle of Red Robin while Damian became Robin and Dick gave Jason an old Nightwing suit. Jason took that Nightwing suit and wore it as a symbol that his relationship with the Bat Fam was being repaired and getting better. Dick had started to occasionally stay at Wayne Manor, even having his own study there and our relationship only grew stronger but obviously with its bumps and curves. One of my enemies, Alexei Novikov, returned to Gotham with a new drug that Nightwing ended up being hit with while on a patrol. Alexei kidnapped him and tried to hold him for ransom but just as he was making the ransom demand Red Hood, Red Robin, Robin, and myself all busted into his hideout and rescued Nightwing. Alexei had armed a self-destruct system, we got out but Alexei didn't....at least I hope, we never found a body or any barbequed remains and people in Gotham don't like to stay dead as if #Revived is the number one trend in the world.

Also this year was the year I turned 18 - long story short I stole the Batmobile and almost got grounded for three months until dad realized how old I was...but I did get my Sleeperbike taken away. The Justice league also approached me for the first time and Dick for the second time, we both declined. I preferred (and still do) being a "solo" act and Dick wanted to stick to looking after the Young Justice team while also technically being a solo act.

2018: Jason had moved back into the manor since his relationships were mostly repaired to be in good graces with all of us and once again considered part of the Bat Family. The major conflict of this year, for me personally, was when Siren kidnapped Red Hood purely just to get in my head and piss of The Silent Sleeper, who was now more commonly known as "SS". I rescued Red Hood but Siren managed to slip away to god only knows where. Then, after a mission had seemed to go sideways Red Robin went MIA, or so I had thought. In reality the mission was intended to look like a failure so Red Robin could go dark. When Red Robin returned home I called a family meeting and made all "my boys" (including my dad) promise me that if a mission or assignment is meant to look a certain way, to tell me before we go on the mission or assignment.

Well, that's been my life up until now! I will be giving updates, I mean, if you all are curious that is! Lots of love, stay safe, your friendly neighborhood, Silent Sleeper.

P.S: I don't care if I stole that from Spider-Man, dude is cool!

Admin: Backstory is still a minor WIP as I am still working on putting in Barbara, Cassandra, and Stephanie.

[kaledeedeshra]

-- Prompt 01: Questionnaire

(content warning for: uh like.... existential shit? depressive thoughts? idk)

01. Tell us about your character’s name. Was it given to them or chosen? Does it hold any special meaning? If your character has aliases or nicknames, how did they get them and what do they mean?

When he was first picked up by the Mando’ade, Kal refused to give them his name so they were forced to come up with one for him. He was also a p feisty baby so it amused someone to call him Kal aka the Mando’a word for knife. The joke being like..... he wanted so desperately to be a saber or genuine threat but he was just a lil poke instead. ANYWAY, the name stuck. And of course, Deshra is his clan name. 

For a while, his family and close friends would call him Kal’edee when he was being especially feisty (or, in their terms, adorable)-- it’s a nickname that basically means knife mouth or sharp teeth. He calmed down a lot over the years, but the nickname stuck and the one sister that still talks to him still uses it.... 

also he’s too much of a dumbass to use any aliases even when he has ppl hunting him so like that’s the that on that

02. What is your character’s relationship to their homeworld? Do they hold fond memories of it, or do they hate it? Are they still here, and if not, do they miss it?

Kal barely remembers Wayland, SO i’m going to be talking about Vorpa’ya since that is also his homeworld. 

I mean, he hated it at first because it wasn’t home, but over time he came to love it SO much.... He even loved the hard work that came with farming, although he did very little of that since his specific family were more the guards than the farmers. Being an agricultural world it was Covered in good plants and beauty, though, and he misses it every day. Spaceships and city worlds have NOTHING on Vorpa’ya. Sadly, he can never go back. At least he has his dreams. 

03. Describe your character’s relationship with those who raised them. Was it positive? Negative? Neutral? What sorts of ideologies were they raised with, and do they still stand by them now?

Brief background: Kal has three Mandalorian parents and three Mandalorian siblings, was adopted after a Mando raiding crew destroyed his home and took him with them, and of all of them only his youngest sister is still on speaking terms with him. 

Anyway, it grew from contentious to adoring p damn quick, honestly... Kal's the worst at holding grudges and he was only four when they picked him up, so like. He was really close with his family-- they’re still everything to him. Even after the exile and years of no contact, if any of them called him up out of the blue Kal would drop everything for them. There are like...... Maybe two people in the galaxy he’d value more. 

As for beliefs-- they raised Kal Mandalorian, following the Resol’nare (with some minor clan-specific tweaks, as Clan Deshra was moving towards a slightly more peaceful way of life), and he fully believed. He still does, actually. He doesn’t uphold the tenets anymore, though, having very slowly let go of them after he left. What this means is he fully believes that since he no longer upholds his culture in the way he was taught, he’s dar’manda, or soulless, and when he dies he will have no place with his warrior ancestors. Instead, he will be either destroyed or forced to wander alone for eternity. Basically, he’s going to hell and he’s (kind of) accepted that. 

04. What is your character’s relationship with the Force? Is your character Force-sensitive? Whether or not they are, do they believe in it? Do they lean more towards the dark or the light or are they somewhere in between?

Kal is as force-blind as they come, to be honest. Like, there is NOTHING in there, the force isn’t even sure he exists let alone the other way round. Regardless, he’s spent enough time around Jedi and other force users to know that something is definitely up. He trusts them when they talk about the force, so he believes in it. He just doesn’t believe it has anything to do with him. (If he were force sensitive he would lean naturally towards the light, though. In some alternate universe out there i can feel him.... trying desperately to use the dark side and failing miserably.) 

05. What three word would you use to describe your character? What three words would your character use to describe themself? What three words would someone close to them use?

me: Loyal, obnoxious, clumsy

kal: charming, handsome, useless

jav’nen: dodgy, persistent, sly

06. Describe your character’s aesthetic. Do they tend towards fashion or function? Do they like to accessorize? How does this extend into their own personal spaces, such as their home or their workspace?

Oh, function 100%. Maybe even 1000%, there is no fashion anywhere in Kal’s closet. If it can’t protect him or make his job easier in some way, he’s not wasting money on it. He doesn’t even have any piercings anymore, and personalized painted armor is a thing of the past. Now, this doesn’t mean he doesn’t get starry eyed and distracted every time he walks past a storefront, but the important part is that he doesn’t actually buy the things he wants. 

He has very much the same philosophy with his living space as he does with his clothes. Everything has its function and its place, and unless he’s very distracted or having a depressive episode, everything is immaculate at all times. He’s the kind of nerd that makes his bed as soon as he gets up, and cleans his armor and weapons meticulously every night. No trinkets, no personalization outside of the few belongings that are completely necessary. Any gifts he’s received over the years are in a small safe either in his closet or under his bed depending on the room. 

07. What are your character’s vices? Guilty pleasures? Bad habits? Weak spots?

Most prevalent is probably his willingness to abdicate all thought and responsibility the second someone he trusts tells him to do something. His moral compass is a fuckin roulette wheel because it depends entirely on who’s in the room and who he’s trying to impress at any given time. 

He doesn’t really see that, though, so as far as things he would recognize and admit to: every time he takes his armor off unnecessarily or skips one night of maintenance or lets himself indulge in a good meal or a small trinket or a moment of physical contact, he swears he can feel his soul drifting further out of reach. Most of that isn’t even in direct violation of the Resol’nare, but at this point he’s buried his guilt so far for so long that it’s bled into every aspect of life. Any moment of joy or relief feels undeserved, but that’s never stopped him before honestly!! As long as he can continue the tight rope walk of stringent self discipline to keep the sense of doom at bay, and taking as much joy as he can to keep himself alive, he will!!

Also, he’ll do almost anything for some properly spicy food. 

08. Tell us about your character’s relationship with food. What are their favorites? Do they enjoy cooking? Are they adventurous? Will they eat absolutely anything or are they hard to please?

Spicy !!!! Call him stereotypical Mando’ade but he loves spicy food to death and back. Mostly because it makes him think of home, but also just cause it’s Good. His favorite meal would be his parent’s tiingilar (a spicy casserole)-- as far as he’s convinced, no one else can make it like they did. Every other tiingilar is a disappointment in comparison. He also has a secret soft spot for uj cake, but will only rarely admit to it. 

As far as cooking himself, Kal knows how to make things edible. Barely. He knows enough to survive on his own, and in the wilds he’d be an invaluable resource to anyone less familiar with that kind of cooking, but if there’s literally any alternative you should go with that. Kal’s cooking is for nourishment, not enjoyment. And he’ll eat basically anything, but usually sticks to pre-prepared field rations when left to his own devices. 

09. How does your character feel about engaging in relationships—romantic and / or sexual—with others? What is their history like? Do they fall in love easily? Are they constantly in and out of relationships?

Kal falls in love at the drop of a hat, but Rarely. Basically, love hits him with the intensity and frequency of a lightning strike. That he falls hard and fast doesn’t mean that he admits it to himself or finds it very easy to actually engage in those relationships though-- it’s probably fair to say that Kal has spent the majority of his life pining in one way or another. 

He’s been with a few people, though-- only one previous Serious Relationship, but there was a period of time right after his exile that he tried to be promiscuous and have a few flings. It didn’t end up working very well for him, but it was worth a shot at least. 

For him, sex has always been a far secondary priority to romance. He likes it (at least, when he likes the person its with), but it’s never been his primary goal in a relationship by any stretch of the imagination. He’s a full blown storybook romantic, will treasure the memory of a brief moment of hand contact and all that bullshit. Also if he’s in love with more than one person at once (as is the case right now) he would literally rather die alone than be forced to choose. Don’t get involved with him, he’s a mess. Unless you’re into that, in which case by all means let the boy pledge his life to you. 

10. What is your character’s pain tolerance like? Can they hold their own in a fight, despite injury? If someone hurts them with the aim of gaining information, how much can they take before they cave?

Pain tolerance is one of his primary skills, actually! Finally, something he’s good at !! He can take a punch with the best of them. He has different levels of tolerance for acute pain versus more extended aching, but it’s safe to say that both are higher than average. 

All of his joints are pretty fucked up and usually in one stage of ache or another, which he manages with a combination of the right exercises, a consistent regimen of painkillers/stims, and supportive alterations to his armor. On top of that, it’s a rare day when he isn’t carrying around some injury from the most recent adventure. Basically, he hasn’t really had a pain free day since he was a kid, and even then it was rare, so he’s Very used to operating and fighting through it. 

Regardless, that kind of torture wouldn’t be the way to get him to cooperate. Threaten anyone he cares about and he’ll cave in a second, but hurt or threaten him? That’s not gonna get you anywhere but frustration. Which is to say, the more you hurt him the more annoying he gets. You’d better hope you have a gag handy. 

11. What is your character’s weapon of choice? Are they more skilled as a melee fighter or do they have more skill with ranged weapons? What’s their fighting style like? What sort of training do they have behind them?

Kal has a long standing love affair with his blasters, but he loves his vibroknives even more. Maybe it’s because of his name, or because his aim isn’t the best, but the Second the enemy gets close enough for a good stabbing, the guns are away and the knives come out. 

As for fighting style, he generally relies on being quick and fighting dirty. Honor is for suckers, if you left your dick exposed it’s your fault you got kicked in it, catch him if you can motherfucker. It’s not necessarily the traditional Mandalorian training, but his parents adapted the lessons to suit him better as time went on. He never really took naturally to guns or explosives, so they focused more on grappling and melee combat. 

That said, he’s not the strongest person but he has a lot of training in how to use momentum and leverage to his advantage, so it’s far from unheard of for him to take down much larger opponents, who might have been much more skilled than him in any number of areas. Also, he hardcore prefers setting up ambushes to being taken by surprise, and puts a lot of work into maintaining that. It’s a rare fight that he didn’t see coming, so he usually has an advantage. Especially now that he’s working with a Jedi !! 

12. Does your character have any words or catchphrases that they say frequently? Tell us about how they picked them up.

He tries to minimize that kind of stuff, but Kal still can’t resist throwing up a hushed “Oya, oya!” in preparation for any battle. It’s muscle memory. 

He’s also the kind of nerd that says things like “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” whenever someone leaves his general vicinity. Even just to go to the bathroom. Remember how I said he was obnoxious earlier? He thinks he’s so fucking funny. 

13. Tell us about a negative experience your character has had with either the Jedi or the Sith, and how this has affected their standing. Whether currently aligned or unaligned with either faction, if forced to choose, how would they side?

WELL... I MEAN.... Take your pick: the Sith kind of indirectly screwed over his whole life, and have caused the death of a number of loved ones vs he was hunted by a Jedi for literal years. The second one turned out okay, though, so he’s definitely aligned with the Jedi at the moment. Besides, he loves a good hypocrisy. 

Honestly, though, if circumstances were different he would align with whichever side had more of his friends in it. His allegiances operate at a much more personal/individual level, he kind of doesn’t care what evils a general organization has committed. Things that big picture are hard for him to conceptualize. 

14. How would your character react to seeing a relative or friend on the opposing side of a battle or mission?

Chances are good the result would be immediate capitulation. Kal’s not gonna fight a friend !!! Unless someone he cares about more tells him to! It would go like this: Kal sees friend, Kal drops gun, loved one tells him to pick gun back up, Kal picks gun back up and continues shooting. OR: Kal sees friend, Kal drops gun, no one tells him to pick gun back up, Kal switches sides to hang out with friend. At his most basic instincts, Kal is at all times essentially Patrick Star. 

Friend doesn’t even have to be a good friend, honestly, Kal would fight to the death for anyone from a friendly acquaintance to a bitter rival. That’s just how he operates. 

15. Describe a memory that your character finds embarrassing.

When they started working together, Jav’nen didn’t exactly share that he knew any Mando’a. I’m sure I don’t need to fill in much more but. You can imagine Kal’s longing for death when it was revealed that Jav’nen had heard and fully understood every idiotic nickname Kal had been calling him for months. 

Thinking about it still makes him want to die, honestly.  

16. What goals does your character hold for themself and what steps have they taken towards achieving them? How far are they willing to go to reach them? What is their be-all and end-all?

Goals? Kal hasn’t heard that name in years........

No, but really he’s just waiting for death at this point. I MEAN he has like, smaller, everyday goals. He gets really into it every time he has a job to complete. But if he’s not distracted enough he starts realizing that the rest of his life is just a yawning chasm with nothing waiting at the end, so he’s very attached to those small everyday goals! 

Secret ongoing goal that he won’t admit to himself or anyone else: Jav’nen hug. 

17. What is the one thing your character would change about their life if they were given the chance? What other lives could they have lived as a result?

Not that he would ever, ever admit to it, but Kal’s life would have been very different if he hadn’t been trying so hard to impress his family at all times. Even when they weren’t around.  He has no musical skills in this one, but in some alternate universe out there Kal's a great musician and avoids fighting as much as he can. 

18. Living in such a high-conflict time, how does your character feel about doing what they must to survive? Will they hurt or kill others—either directly or indirectly—to protect themself and / or those close to them? If so, do they regret it when all is said and done?

Oh, I mean, it’s second nature at this point. Even with his clan’s moves towards a more peaceful way of life, combat is so ingrained in Mandalorian culture that it’s become ingrained in Kal too. He’ll hurt and kill people to protect himself, to protect others, to earn money, to keep busy. When all is said and done, as far as he’s concerned, this is just the way the universe works. Everyone dies eventually, in some way, it’s not his fault that he ended up being the executor of their fate. 

It only really bothers him if he doesn’t keep properly distracted. 

19. What is the biggest problem your character is currently dealing with?

How do....... Protect Jedi partner? He’ll never admit it but powerful force users scare the shit out of him more than anyone else, so jedi hunters are like..... nightmare time. With the way the political climate has shifted recently, and his current partnership, Kal’s mind is on protecting Jav’nen pretty much 24/7. Don’t tell Jav’nen, though. That would be embarrassing. 

20. Give us 3+ headcanons of any length or subject matter.

Oh boy, okay. 

1. Fucked joints: I’ve referenced this in an earlier question, but Kal has joint problems. Specifically, he has a genetic thing that means the ligaments and cartilage around his joints aren’t as strong as they’re supposed to be, so his joints bend much further than they’re supposed to and dislocate really easily. This is an advantage in some cases, cause it allows him to houdini his way out of a number of situations, but it also comes with a decent amount of pain. He has his coping methods, though. Such is life. 

2. Animals: He doesn’t often get the chance to show it off, but Kal’s surprisingly good with most animals. Part of that low key farm boy upbringing. Anyway, he’ll never willingly have a pet cause he’d be too worried about them all the time, but you can bet your ass he’s taking advantage of any opportunity to pet someone else’s!! 

3. Physical Affection: SOMEONE HUG THE MAN.......... By that I mean: Kal is at all times craving physical affection. He’s a naturally extremely physically affectionate person, but between a distrust of the general population and a deep seated desire not to inconvenience those he’s close to, he almost never initiates anything. You know when a dog really wants attention but doesn’t wanna get in trouble for barking, so they just kind of sit nearby staring at you and low key vibrating? Kal. At all times. 

bonus. Give us a list of any length telling us why our “fave is problematic.”

i mean does it really need to be any longer than “kills people for money” 

fine

the man has been putting people on pedestals for years will rise to any bait  desperate to please at all times over dramatic  did i mention over dramatic  thinks he’s way funnier than he is is fully willing to let things he’s not cool with fly if someone else says to has been involved in kidnapping and shit would rather die than communicate

[darling-louis]

Amusement Park

Synopsis: You had been friends with Louis for couple years and were quite close. However, after an afternoon spent in an amusement park and a spontaneous adventure planned, you both felt something new blossoming.

This is part 1 of a two-part story! Read part 2 here!

Word count: 2.6k words!

You and Louis went to university together. You met in history class, your worst subject, coincidentally his best subject. You sat next to him and always partnered with him because he was the class genius. He didn’t seem to mind. He even seemed to fancy you, but you kept that thought to yourself.

What made you think that he did fancy you was the way he acted towards you. He could be a bit snappy with others every now and then, and had quite a snarky attitude, but also a joking one at the same time. He was one of those people who are so good with sarcasm that you can never tell if they’re joking or actually dissing you. Thankfully, he was never even slightly snappy with you. Whenever you quietly mumbled a question to him (so the teacher wouldn’t hear and think you were dumb), he gave you the kindest smile and leaned over to explain it with a soft voice. You noticed that he didn’t seem to use that soft voice for anybody else but you, and you didn’t mind that one bit.

Even when you were dating your now ex (what a knob he was), Louis seemed interested in everything you had to say. Conversation flew easily between the two of you—him always talking about his favorite music artists and albums, and his failed love life, you always talking about your prick of a boyfriend and your cat, Muffin (the cutest thing, little Muffin. Much cuter than your sorry excuse for a boyfriend). You noticed early on that Louis was more of the touchy type, not shying away when he accidentally bumped legs or hands with yours, even going as far to grab your hand sometimes when you weren’t paying attention to him in the middle of one of the many conversations between you two.

While you were still with your ex, you noticed that Louis started to distance himself. He stopped the possibly-accidental touches and all of the pet names. Maybe I’m imagining it, you tried to reason with yourself—you’ve known him for awhile, why would he distance himself now? Regardless, it hurt you—his friendship meant a lot to you. You tried to bring it up a few times but he always denied any acts of him becoming distant. Eventually, things got back to normal again as he became as close as he used to be. You still didn’t know what caused him to act weird for that period of time, but you suppose it doesn't much matter anymore.

Your friends always teased you about him, saying that he was madly in love with you and that you were blind not to see it—everybody else did. You’ve heard the rumors, but you would only believe it if you heard it from him directly. Then, your best friend had the “bright” idea to text Louis herself and ask her if he liked you, even with your heavy begging for her not to. She shushed you, “Y/N, if it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. I’m just nosy, and I know you’re dying to know, too. Even though you deny liking him whenever I ask, I can see the way you smile brighter or how your eyes start to twinkle whenever he’s brought up in a conversation.” You sighed in defeat. She quickly shot him the text of “Do you like Y/N?”, glaring at you as she put her phone back in her pocket.

After you ate lunch, your best friend pulled out her phone again, and got your attention, excitement obvious in her voice. “Y/N! He replied!!” You felt your heart stop. What would his response be? She opened the text. “Nahhh.” was all he replied with. Immediately you sunk into your seat and blew a raspberry. “I’m sorry Y/N…” She rubbed your shoulder comfortingly. You leaned your head on her shoulder, just wanting the day to be over with. Now you had to go about the rest of your days acting like nothing had happened, like your spirits weren’t crushed to smithereens.

———————

Over the next few weeks, things went back to feeling normal between you and Louis. Even the day after your best friend asked him if he liked you, he didn’t show any signs of...anything, really. He acted the complete same. It puzzled you, to say the least. You hadn’t even realized how much you were into him until that simple “Nahhh”. Truth be told, you were still very, very into him, but now you knew that all the touches and soft voices were leading up to nowhere. Maybe he only thinks of me as a sister, you thought. Ouch, that one hurt. You were the one he cared deeply for, but also the one that was undateable. Double ouch.

A tap on your arm brought you out of your thoughts. You looked towards the tapping, and were met with Louis’ eyes. “Rando question, love, but are yeh free this weekend?”

You tilted your head at him and gave a puzzled look, “Erm, I think so, why?”

“I’ve been wantin’ to go to that new amusement park in Dounsen, a few towns over, you’ve heard of it, yea?”

You nodded.

“Well, I don’ ‘ave a friend to go with me, most of ‘em are goin’ to prom that weekend n’I don’ wan’ to go alone. Wanna come?” He gives you his best Good-Boy grin (the one he gives all his teachers on the first day of school, until he loses that good-boy role and becomes the class sass-king).

This surprised you. Surprised you a lot, actually. You and Louis had never hung out after school before, at least not like this. Sometimes you’d both be at a party and you’d ditch everybody and find a quiet place to talk, sure. But he had never asked you, directly, to go somewhere  a l o n e  with him. You already felt nervous, and you hadn’t even told him that you were going yet.

“Y/N?”

You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Was thinking of my mental calendar. All clear, I’ll go with ya, Lou.”

He grinned again. “Great! I’ll pick you up at 8am tomorrow! I owe you, don’ let me forget!”

The bell rang right as he finished his sentence, signaling the end of your class. How were you going to focus in your next class when all your thoughts now consisted of Louis. What do I wear? Will I need to shave my legs? What if I get sweaty? Louis, Louis, Louis. You were doomed.

——————

By the time Saturday rolled around, you weren’t any less worried. You woke up two hours before you had to leave, just in case he got there early. You decided on wearing a pair of light blue shorts with a peach colored tank top. You put your hair in a loose messy bun and put only a small amount of makeup on. He’s seen you without makeup before anyway, so it’s not like you had to impress him anymore. Especially since he most-probably thought of you as his sister. Ugh. You still hated that thought.

He pulled up to your house a few minutes after 8, shooting you a text that he was there and waiting, but that there was no rush—which were every girl’s favorite words. You grabbed your phone and bag and headed to his car. Thankfully, your parents were still asleep. If they weren’t, they’d definitely have you bring Louis inside and have an hour long discussion with him about how they should treat their only daughter and how they were trusting you with her life and oh, do you like her? Are you two dating? Yeah. Thankfully, they were still asleep.

As you hopped in his car, he gave you a big smile. “Morning, Y/N! Brought you some coffee, figured you’re still a big grump in the morning, even on the weekends.” He knew you so well.

“You figured correctly, Lou. Thank you!” You greedily grabbed the hot coffee and got comfortable in the seat. “Although, I much prefer your company to my siblings’.”

“Trust me, I have 6 siblings, and even more half-siblings, I totally get it. Even though we all get along great, there are still times that I just want to be alone with myself or with a friend.”

You winced, hoping he wouldn’t notice. There it was. Friend. Ow.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“You winced or summat, are you alright?”

“Yea...sorry. Just remembered something that I wish I hadn’t.” You gave him a half-smile, letting out a small, awkward chuckle.

He looked at you from his side of the car, hands still on the wheel. One eyebrow was raised in that sassy look he loves to give you. “Alright, Y/L/N. If you’re not alright though, you better tell me. Can’t have yeh ruinin’ our trip!”

You nodded along with a small “Of course, Lou,” You and Louis had never talked about anything serious. Sure, sometimes he’d tell you that one of his sisters stole his shirts or that his step-dad was driving him insane, but he had never had a ‘heart-to-heart’ moment like that with you before. Even if he didn’t return your feelings, maybe this trip would at least be the beginning of a new type of friendship. A closer, more secure one. You could only hope.

————————

After a few hours in the park, the two of you were beat. The sun bearing down on you and constant walking was wearing the both of you out. Currently, you were in line for one of those rides that went up extremely high so that you could see above the whole park, and even the whole town. After a day of non-stop moving, you both were looking forward to a nice, calm ride.

You were both quiet, leaning against the barrier pole under a canopy shade. Without thinking anything of it, you laid your head on Louis’ shoulder. He leaned into you, leaning his head atop yours.

“Lou?”

“Yea?” he hummed in response.

“I think my legs are jelly.” He burst out laughing at this, which burst the quiet bubble you two were in—he also earned a few glares from angry parents that were also in line.

“Mine too, love.”

You stayed in the same position, with your head on his shoulder and his head leaning on yours, for a few more minutes until the line moved up. Louis sighed as he lifted his head, letting you move forward. Finally, it was your turn to ride.

The park worker lead you to one of the carts, which seated two people per row. You and Louis hopped in, making sure you were buckled in tight. You instantly leaned back into the seat, your legs eternally grateful for the chance of even a few minutes of rest.

Louis huffed next to you. “Y/N, I think I forgot to mention, I’m actually quite scared of heights…”

“Awe Lou, do you need me to hold your hand?” You joked.

“No, no. I’m gonna be a man about this.”

“Whatever you say, Lou.”

He stuck his tongue out at you as the music began and the ride started lifting up in the air, while slowly spinning at the same time. At first, you felt like you were going to be sick. You were up so high. You could fall from this height and die instantly. But slowly, you calmed down, getting distracted by the music from the ride and by the breathtaking view.

“It’s so pretty..” you whispered to Louis, who didn’t respond. “Lou?”

“...Actually, I might need you to hold my hand.” When you looked at him, you saw him blushing and looking sheepish.

You offered him your hand and felt him slip his into yours. Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling of his hands against your own. They were rough, but smooth at the same time. Calloused, but soft. You decided that you quite liked this, and never wanted the ride to end.

—————————

It was getting dark now, but the two of you were still having the time of your lives. You had just finished a very late dinner when you saw a girl carrying a huge plush monkey (it was bigger than her!). You gasped.

“Hm?” Louis hummed in response.

“Lou! Look at that huge monkey!”

He followed your gaze and smirked when he laid eyes on the huge plush. “How ‘bout I win one for ya, love?”

You jumped up and down enthusiastically. “Really?! I don’t think there’s even room in your car for it.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He grabbed your hand and lead you to the carnival booth. In order to win, you had to get a basketball in a hoop from an impossible height and distance. Louis was decently tall, but the shoot seemed impossible.

He spent nearly $20 on the little bugger, but he thought the smile on your face when he won made it totally worth it.

The booth worker turned towards the animals, showcasing them with his hands, “Which one do you want, Miss?”

“The cow!”

“...Actually, I think it’s a spotted pig..”

You and Louis exchanged confused and slightly disgusted glances behind the man’s back, which made you giggle quietly. He handed the pig to Louis, who handed it to you. You gave him the tightest hug, wrapping both arms around his waist. “You’re the best, Lou. Thank you for making today amazing.”

One of his hands went around your back, one went behind your head, tangling in your hair and holding you close to him. “Anything for you, my love.”

You felt your heart speed up. He always called you love. But this time he said my love. My. Why did a two letter word make such a big difference? Surely this wasn’t how friends talked to each other...was it?

He pulled back from you, but kept you in his arms so that you were looking at each other. “You know...just because the suns down doesn’t mean that the fun has to be over.” He smirked down at you with a mischievous look in his eye. You loved that smirk. You knew he was planning something up in that lovely head of his, and you wanted to know what.

“Hm?” you hummed.

“We can have a sleepover! I have the house to myself this weekend, so no one will bother us. I quite hate being alone in such a big house, and I would hate to already bring tonight’s fun to an end. What’dya say, Y/N?”

You thought for a minute. Logically, you knew that if your parents found out you were sleeping over at a boy’s house, they’d kill you. And logically, if they found out that you had the house to yourselves, they’d revive you and kill you a second time. But honestly, you didn’t care. You liked the feeling of butterflies in your stomach and and the wave of sudden excitement you got whenever you looked at Louis. You decided to forget your parent’s rules for the night.

Without answering him, you pulled out your phone and dialed their number. He raised a questioning brow, and you held up a finger in response. “Hi mom, Marcy invited me to spend the night with her tonight, is it alright if I go? Thanks! You’re the best! I can bring home dinner for everyone tomorrow night since I’ll be out.”

You hung up the phone and hugged Louis once again, snuggling your face into his soft cotton shirt.

“Sneaky little bugger, you are. I quite like this side of you.” He rubbed your back as you pulled apart, smiling widely.

[cromulentbookreview]

Binge!

It makes sense why we use a term normally associated with food like “binge” to describe that day where you do nothing but watch every episode of that one TV show. You don’t really hear someone say that they’re going on a book binge, though. When referring to a media “binge,” it’s usually always TV, and, to some extent, movies (I once binged all three Extended Editions of Lord of the Rings - it took a day and a half and it was amazing). I think we need to have more book binges in our lives. In fact, there’s even a book review site way more organized and put together than mine will ever be that’s actually called Book Binge. 

Anyway, for me a book binge is when you pick out a series that already has several books out and you read them all, one after the other. I did this earlier this year with Naomi Novik’s amazing Temeraire series. I’m pretty sure it’s why I had to get new lenses for my glasses this year. I’ve been on a historical mystery kick lately - I think it has to do with the season changing from Summer to Fall where I immediately go “get me some 19th Century British Detectives!!” 

Which was how I ended up tearing through all 10 of Will Thomas’s Barker & Llewelyn books.

I’d never heard of the Barker & Llewelyn series until I was traipsing around Goodreads looking for some 19th century mystery fiction. Like my strange obsession with 19th century British dudes on boats, I loves me some 19th century British mystery stories. Initially, I didn’t start out to binge the entire series. 10 books is a lot. I had a hard time with Temeraire, which is also kind of 10 books (9 and a bunch of short stories). There were times with my Temeraire binge where my attention wavered, where I wanted to just put the books down and go read something else, but I pressed on. And I discovered one of the great joys of a true book binge: no agonizing wait for a sequel. No having your interest piqued by book one and then sitting and waiting for a year and a half for the next book. With a book binge, you can put down book two and immediately pick up book three because BOOK BINGE. 

There are a few 19th century British mystery series out there that I’m almost too afraid to start with because they consist of roughly ten thousand books and counting (looking at you, Anne Perry) and there’s no way I’d be able to focus on (or care about) a single series for that many books. So when I saw that the Barker & Llewelyn series consisted of nine books, like Temeraire, (plus a tenth book I’d gotten on Netgalley), and that all of them were under 350 pages, I was like “OK, I’ll give the first book a go, and see what happens.”

Yeah, I may have immediately gone from the first book to the second one. And then the third. And then the fourth and the fifth...I couldn’t stop.

The series is all about our audience surrogate, Thomas Llewelyn, and our substitute Sherlock Holmes, detective private enquiry agent Cyrus Barker. At the start of the series, Llewelyn is 22 and a widow who just spent eight months in Oxford Prison for theft. He’d been set to go places, having gotten a scholarship to Oxford, but the whole prison-sentence thing derailed all his plans. So he ends up in London (where else?) looking for work. After months of failed attempts to get a job (not a lot of job opportunities for ex-cons out there, even in the 1880s), Llewelyn decides to try for one last job before throwing himself into the Thames: an assistant position with a prominent private detective enquiry agent, Cyrus Barker. Barker, like all Great Detective Private Enquiry Agent types, is a Scottish eccentric with a mysterious past who knows everything about anything and anything under the sun. He’s got all sorts of weird scars and gang tattoos. He grew up in China and speaks like, eleventy-one languages. He wears sunglasses all the time. Like, all the time. Apparently he does so even when he sleeps. (Yes, they had sunglasses in the 19th century. No, they’re not called sunglasses in these books, but they’re referred to as his “dark spectacles”). Barker is, of course, filthy rich, and upon hiring the poor, unfortunate and 1000% broke Thomas Llewelyn, immediately provides him with room, board, and a whole new suit of fancy clothes. He also sets about correcting Llewelyn’s behavior and manners, a pretty tall order since Llewelyn is a super snarky Welshman. As far as Watsons go, Llewelyn is definitely one of the more amusing, which makes these books so goddamned fun to read. 

Also, Barker has a butler called Jacob Maccabee, who rivals Llewelyn in his deadpan snarkiness. I ship Llewelyn/Mac so hard - every time they’re in a scene together they just have so much chemistry. I don’t care if Word of God is they are both straight. I just want them to be together and snark at each other all day long..

Uh.

Ahem.

Anyway.

Yes, this series is very much your standard, buddy-detective private enquiry duo present in basically all movies, TV and books, but they’re fun. And you know what we all need right now? Fun. Pure, unadulterated fun where the good guys triumph over the bad guys, where the mystery is solved and you’ve got your Sherlock Holmes and your Dr. Watson. Because have you seen the news lately? Yeah, I need some stories where pure good triumphs over evil, where people freak out at the concept of rubber tires and the telephone, and where the story of the day isn’t doom and gloom and horror. Just, you know, murder. But fun, because it’s not real. And because it was the 19th century. In Britain. And not real. Well, except Jack the Ripper, those were real but...you know.

Here’s a summary of the first nine books in the sereies:

BOOK 1 - Some Danger Involved: Your average detective enquiry agent-duo origin story featuring brilliant detective and his new snarky Welsh sidekick!

BOOK 2 - To Kingdom Come: Barker & Llewelyn go undercover and build bombs for the Irish!

BOOK 3 - The Limehouse Text: Barker & Llewelyn face big trouble in London’s 19th Century Chinatown!

BOOK 4 - The Hellfire Conspiracy: Barker & Llewelyn fight human traffickers, secret societies and such!

BOOK 5 - The Black Hand: Barker & Llewelyn fight the Italian mafia!

BOOK 6 - Fatal Enquiry: Barker & Llewelyn fight Barker’s almost comically evil arch-nemesis!

BOOK 7 - Anatomy of Evil: Barker & Llewelyn fight Jack the Ripper!

BOOK 8 - Hell Bay: Barker & Llewelyn Present: Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None!

BOOK 8.5 - An Awkward Way to Die: Barker & Llewelyn solve a case in, like, 20 minutes!

BOOK 9 - Old Scores: Barker & Llewelyn Present: Japonism in Late-19th Century England!

BOOK 10 - Blood is Blood: Barker is put temporarily out of commission by an explosion! Llewelyn must solve the case himself! Who should show up to help but Barker’s long lost brother??

A little more about Blood is Blood:��

So Thomas Llewelyn is only a couple of weeks away from happily marrying his lady love, Rebecca Cowan née Moccatta. Everything is hunky-dory. And then someone tries to blow up his and Barker’s office. Barker is badly injured, leaving Thomas to investigate who tried to kill them by himself. Oh, and, same day the offices are blown up, Caleb Barker, Cyrus Barker’s long lost brother, first mentioned way back in Limehouse Text, I think, shows up. Caleb had been a major plot point in Fatal Enquiry, but then was never mentioned again until this book. He’s been living in the lawless American West, acting as a Pinkerton agent. But can he be trusted? Also, Rebecca’s family is super against her marrying a detective private enquiry agent who isn’t Jewish. Upon seeing just how dangerous the job can be, Rebecca starts having doubts. Will Thomas be unlucky in love yet again? Tune in November 13 for Blood is Blood, same bat-time, same bat channel. 

Yes, this series can, at times, be formulaic and tropey, but...fuck it, I love it. Sometimes there’s comfort to be had in a story where you know the good guys will solve the mystery, maybe picking up a few scrapes along the way. I tore through all of the books of the Barker & Llewelyn series in about two weeks, and finished Blood is Blood in about a day. I should’ve gone slower, because I need more. I need at least five more books, Will Thomas, and I needed them YESTERDAY. Aaaackgh. This is what I get for binging. How long until book 11? Will we be getting another novella soon? And when are we going to meet Thomas's family?! 10 books and we've never met his parents or any of his nine siblings! I want a whole book dedicated to Thomas reconciling with his family and he and Barker and Mac running all around Wales. I NEED IT. 

Write faster, Will Thomas. 

Predictably, after a book binge such as this, my eyes now hurt pretty badly. Time to invest in those fancy eye drops my optometrist keeps telling me to buy.

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone needing an escape from the awful world we live in now.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: People who think everything’s fine for some reason. You know. This guy:

OVERALL SERIES RATING: 4.5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED VICTORIAN MYSTERY / MURDERINO FANGIRL RATING: 5/5

BLOOD IS BLOOD RATING: 4/5

RELEASE DATE: November 13, 2018

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR NEXT BOOK IN THE SERIES: Olympus Mons

[happybeeme0514]

Irreversible

Sooo it’s gonna be full-fledged project. *yay!* I will warn you now tho, I am a scatter-brain garbage monster so sometimes the chapters will be a little bit spaced out, but I WILL try to post chapters as they are completed! Thank you for your support, and I love you all sooo much!!!

PS. Yes, I know her name is Eden like in my other story, but I just can’t have a possible Ziggy-OC romance story without my OC’s name being Eden. I’m sorry!

MC Name- Eden

Eden POV

Chapter 1- The Garden of Eden

I sit in my cell, like I do day after day, month after month, year after year. I read all the books I had been given…I don’t even remember how many years ago, and I’ve read them again, many to the point that they’ve fallen apart.

I’m a vampire. Born in 1330 or 1331—time wasn’t kept accurately for peasants, you see—in Whitechapel, London, England, to peasant parents who already had ten other children. My father was a blacksmith and my mother was a seamstress. My older siblings, all brothers, would help father, and I, mother.

Mother told me I was named for the garden of Eden, because when I was born, I was the most beautiful baby she and my father had ever seen. She had also prayed every day for a little girl, and believed that my being a girl was God’s answer to her.

And life was difficult, like it was for every peasant family, but we were content, happy. It’s funny how one little rat can ruin everything. In the winter of my seventeenth or eighteenth age, the Black Death, otherwise known as the Bubonic Plague, had spread to Europe, and people were dropping like flies. If only we had known to bathe, to wash our hands, not to share dirty bath water, to wash our fruits and vegetables…it’s quite disgusting when you think of how humans lived back then, but I digress.

My family and I all got sick. In the span of several days, it was down to just me and my parents. I remember my brothers just lying in their beds, not moving, flies buzzing around their open eyes and mouths, and those damnable rats scurrying along the floors.

My father prayed nonstop, begging God to at least spare his only daughter. Mother just slept in fitful spells and coughed. I had given up on any deity. If God did exist, why would He let us suffer in such a way? Why rip beloved families apart? What had we done?  

That’s when a plague doctor came. He tallied the bodies of my once rowdy brothers, prayed with my father, and held my mother’s hand until she passed.

Father begged. He begged the doctor to save me, said he’d give anything, even his soul to the devil, if I would live. The doctor told him that wouldn’t be necessary, that I would live, and my father, in peace—false peace, I’d believed—passed.

The doctor removed his macabre mask and looked at me, still alive, dying in my bed, and smiled, showing me a pair of sharp, pointed canines.

“I made a promise.”

Was all he said before making me what I am.

I scoff to myself.

It wasn’t long before these so-called ‘gods’ captured me and threw me in here, only a couple hundred years. I don’t recall having done anything wrong, I was only going about my business, and I didn’t kill for fun. I didn’t even kill when I fed! I’m sure there are others of my kind more deserving of being locked in here for eternity.

Like him.

It’s boring in this cell. That’s my chief complaint. It’s dark—even though I can see in the dark—it’s small, it’s quiet, and it’s boring. If I could die from boredom, I’d have been dead centuries ago.

I twiddle a small rock in between my index and middle fingers for a few minutes, then crush it as easily as if it were butter.

Let me out in the forest somewhere. Just for an hour or two. Let me run, let me jump, let me bound and climb and leap and sprint. Vampires were made for that.

My door opens, and my eyes shoot up in surprise. A light flickers on, but my eyes don’t need time to adjust.

Standing in the doorway are two men in uniforms I don’t recognize, one in black and one in gold. They don’t look happy.

A god who works in this department flutters nervously behind them, his thick, round glasses magnifying his flat black eyes.

“U-um…E-Eden…t-this is…”

“My name is Leon,” The man in the gold uniform interrupts impatiently, his voice low and musical. His hair is a rich shade of golden-brown, and messy, falling to his chin, and his face is beautiful, slender, his eyes narrowed in irritation and his mouth set in a straight line.

“Scorpio.” The one in black says, his voice just as deep, with a hint of venom in it. He has jet black hair that flops over his right eye, his one visible eye a stormy grey color. His skin is fair, is features neatly and attractively arranged, but there’s an indentation above his left eye, telling me he, too, is agitated.

I remain where I sit, staring unblinking at the two gods.

“Okay,” I reply, hearing my own voice for the first time in what feels like forever. “What does that mean to me?”

Leon’s eyes, matching the color of his hair, narrow, his expression becoming even more displeased.

“You would be wise not to speak to us like that,” He warns.

“What do you want with me?” I say anyway. “No one ever comes into a vampire’s containment cell. We’re…taint-ed.”

I sound the word out syllable by syllable, mimicking the words their king told me when I was sentenced to be locked in here for the rest of my days.

“We need you,” Scorpio says, looking my dead in the eye.

“For what? What could you possibly need me for?”

Scorpio stomps over to me and leans down to grab me around my arm.

“N-no! You can’t…g-grab her like that!”

Scorpio ignores the other god’s cries and tries to yank me to my feet, but I refuse to budge. I just stare at him, expressionless.

“Get up!” He snarls.

“Why?” I reply flatly.

“Because, you annoying girl, if you don’t help us…!”

“Everyone, including you, is doomed.” Leon cuts Scorpio, who is getting more and more excited, off.

My eyes flit over to him, and I can feel my expression shift.

“Doomed?” I repeat.

“Just come with us!”

Scorpio yanks again, pulling as hard as he can, so much so that he’s rocking back onto his heels. I don’t move.

“The minister of Punishments is dying,” Leon explains while Scorpio yanks and pulls. “And only you can help him. Will you please…come with us?”

I can tell he’s making himself be polite with me while his friend tries to manhandle me, but I sigh, resigned, and unlock my body.

Scorpio loses his balance and topples backward; if it weren’t for his grip on my arm, he’d have sprawled to the stone floor.

“Jesus, woman! Don’t just do that! How the hell are you so strong, anyway?”

“I’m a vampire,” I say, uninterested. “We’re strong.”

Leon lifts his hand and snaps his fingers, and I feel a sudden, warm sensation on the side of my neck. My shoulders jolt, and a hand flies to the warm spot, where my fingers feel lines marking my skin.

“That is your chain,” Leon tells me. “If you try to escape from us, you’ll immediately be teleported back here. Is that clear?”

I stare at him blankly, my hand falling to my side.

“There’s no need to chain me. Just going outside is…” I trail off, deciding it’s not worth the effort to explain, and instead say, “It’s clear.”

“Good. Now, come on.”

…

When the sun hits my face for the first time in literally centuries, I feel like I could cry. My eyes prickle, the old human reaction rising up inside of me, but my body being mostly unable to do so. I close my eyes and lift my face, feeling the warmth of the sun’s rays against my cheeks as I follow Leon, Scorpio behind me. I smile in spite of myself as the gentle breeze rustles my hair, loose around my shoulders, and I shiver pleasantly.

“Is this really that nice?” Scorpio asks, staring at me like I have a third eye. I open my eyes and look over at him. He looks at my eyes, blinks, then flinches away from me.

“Oh. Oops, sorry, I forgot.” I mutter.

I forgot that when a vampire is in direct sunlight, our eyes shift from their natural color to red. The sun reveals what we truly are, and that’s the reason we don’t go out during the day.

No, it doesn’t kill us.

“But yes, it is really that nice,” I continue, staring at the vibrant grass under my feet. Their soft blades feel like satin against my skin. “I haven’t been outside in god knows how many years. The sun and the breeze feels good.”

“Well if you succeed in saving Zyglavis, you won’t go back to that cell.” Leon says. I look up at him.

“What?” I breathe.

“You heard me. Save Zyglavis, and you get your freedom. Fail, and you get thrown back down there.”

I taste the familiar, metallic twinge of the venom as it fills my mouth, my mind and body wanting to respond to that threat with a snarl, but I hold myself back. I swallow thickly and remain silent as we walk to the large, sprawling palace in the distance.

…

When we enter, I get all kinds of looks.

It’s easy to tell I’m no goddess, especially by the way I’m dressed.

Bare feet, simple, dingy white day dress (that I’ve had on for years), slightly tangled hair, and abnormally pale skin…this must be a sight for these so-called noble gods.

I look around as we walk, at the high walls, intricately decorated, at the exquisite paintings and vases…even the doors are delicate and ornate. As I stare at the grandure of my surroundings, it occurs to me that these gods must truly be desperate. So desperate as to come to me, a vampire, a creature they so blatantly loathe, and ask...well, demand, for my help. I look to Leon.

“What happened to him?” I ask.

“Be silent,” Leon says, his voice low. “We’ll tell you when we get there.”

People whisper to each other as we pass, thinking I can’t hear them.

“Who is that ragity looking girl?”

“She’s not a goddess, is she?”

“Impossible! Look at her!”

“Why would they let such filth into the palace?”

Without me realizing it, a small growl slips, the sound like a threatened cat.

“Hey!” Scorpio hisses.

“Sorry…” I mumble.

“He’s through here,” Leon says as we come to a door covered by curtains. I frown.

“Why the curtains?”

“To prevent unwanted guests.”

He pulls back the curtains and twists the golden door handle, opening one of the doors, and looks to me. I glance back at Scorpio, who jabs his chin toward the room, and, with a sigh, I enter.

Once the three of us are in, Scorpio closes the door quietly behind him.

There are three other men in the room, plus one lying on the couch, covered by a blanket. The two standing by the window turn to the sound of the door closing, and the other looks up from his book when he sees us.

But my eyes are glued to the man on the couch, my jaw dropping when I see the state he’s in. He moves his tired eyes, lined with dark purple circles, to look at me. My body freezes, unwilling to move. It’s like the rest of the world melts away, like a sword just pierced my already dead heart, sending an unplesant sensation like icy needles through my veins.

“Eden,” Leon says as he comes to stand beside me. “This is Zyglavis, the Minister of the Department of Punishments.”

[letitia-is-cross]

Spill out my Passions upon your Feet

JONxSANSA, Modern Royalty AU, Oneshot, 6911 words, Uses all the jonsa smut week prompts in one. Read it on AO3

Summary:

“Why do you torture yourself like this?” “No one, Rhaenys, you cannot tell her, or him, or anyone.” Oh Jon, she thought, everyone that matters, already knows.

As they grew, their feelings grew, but an impossible love tangled up in the royal families of modern day Westeros is doomed to fail, no matter how much Jon may burn for Sansa, and she may ache for him.

Dedicated to Amymel86 as she is fabulous and kind and wonderful and honestly is just a wonderful part of this fandom.

"Which one is she?"

Rhaegar crouched down next to his son, looking at the official portrait of the Royal Family of the North.

"Which one do you think she is?"

A young finger smudged the glass over the face of a little girl with grey eyes and a begrudging smile.

"That one? With the dark hair like Rhaenys?"

"No, not that one."

"The red haired one then, like her Mum."

The King of the Crownlands watched his son's small face, curious for his reaction.

"Yes that's her; your future bride. What do you think?"

Thin, 12 year old shoulders shrugged.

"Pretty I guess. Do I really have to marry her though, Father?"

Big eyes looked up into his, Rhaegar sighed, they were just like the boy's mother's.

"Yes Aegon, you do."

Jon Targaryen hurtled down the palace corridor, skipping round a corner and skidding on the marble floors.

"Rhaenys! Wait! Wait for me!"

A gleeful laugh drifted back down towards the dark haired boy, and he pushed his skinny 10 year old legs all the faster.

Rounding the last corner, his dress shoes flying across the polished staircase, he slammed into the legs of his Father.

"Jon! You're late!"

"Sorry Father, I lost track of time reading and- and Rhaenys challenged me to a race, and then I had to changed my pants because I slipped-"

Seeing the upward tick of his Father's mouth, and knowing that he wouldn't face any penalties today of all days, Jon blew out the rest of his breath and took his place beside his sister.

Jon wasn't too worried, after all, whilst it was the arrival of a Royal Family, this wasn't the state greeting and there was no one to report on his tardiness in such close company.

He was glad of his timing a minute later though, when the doors opened to the drive and he and his family stepped out just before the line of Range Rovers pulled up carrying the King in the North and his family.

Excitement thrummed through him. Whilst not directly, his Mother had been the 2nd cousin twice removed or some such relation of the King of the North, and they had grown up together. Before she had passed, his Mother would tell him such wonderful stories of the North and of the king, Ned Stark. Jon could feel himself near vibrating in anticipation of meeting the man she had spoken so fondly of and his family.

The car door opened and out stepped a man with an austere brow and straight lips, followed by a beautiful lady with long dark red hair.

Their picture of elegance was soon ruined by the spilling of three children from the back of the car. A boy around his age, with his mother's hair in riotous curls, a girl around five that looked much like him but was twisting her head every which way to take in her surroundings, and a boy around four whose hair was a reddish brown and looked to be bouncing in giddiness at the sights before him.

Jon's vision was soon stolen however, by another girl stepping out, holding a boy around two by his hand, hair brighter than her mother or her siblings held back in a French braid.

She was her mother in miniature, down to the elegant way she led her little brother over to her Mother to be held by her.

Jon quickly rattled the names of the Stark children off in his head, matching them to the portrait used to teach him their names.

Robb stood next to his father now, a grin splitting his face. Next him was the second Stark princess, Arya, the one who looked like her father and like him. Bran stark stood next to his Mother, Rickon Stark in her arms.��

Between her parents stood Sansa Stark, first Princess of the North and- Jon didn't bother to close his gaping mouth- the prettiest girl Jon had ever seen.

Sansa giggled as Jon placed a wreath of flowers on her head, brushing a fallen petal out of her eyes.

He grinned back, folding into a sweeping bow, hands flourishing at his sides.

At the ridiculously flamboyant action, Sansa couldn't help but break into peals of gasping laughter, joined a second later with Jon's soft but hearty chuckles.

"Well, Queen of Love and Beauty, what would you have of your Knight, my service is yours."

A failure of a wink accompanied his words and Sansa laughed all the harder.

"Jon- oh gosh- Jon-"

"How rude! The lady laughs at my declaration! I am wounded to the core!" Jon clasped a hand to his chest to accompany his melodramatic teasing.

Sansa fell down on the grass clutching her stomach, soundless gasps escaping her.

Soon, Jon joined her on the well manicured lawn, laughing along as they gazed up at the branches above.

Sansa turned her head to view the boy lying next to her, giggling now and then, reminded of his antics.

Sometimes she didn't know how she had thought he was rude and didn't like her, the first time they met. Although Jon hadn't been able to speak four words in a row together to her for the first three days, which had rather upset her sensibilities. He had been verbose enough with her siblings, especially Robb and Arya, who had all become thick as thieves.

It was that, really, that had changed things.

...

Sansa wasn't silly. She wasn't stupid. And they would be the only reasons to cry about stupid sisters and brothers, and princes that didn't invite her to play.

She had been having fun with Rhaenys anyway, they had become fast friends, sharing a love of all things beautiful and bonding over brother's that could be absolutely intolerable at times, although she did love hers dearly, especially Robb, who always looked after her.

So she wouldn't have been able to play knights and dragons anyway, but still. It hurt. It hurt that they didn't ask.

It was all Jon Targaryen's fault!

He was so friendly and nice to all her siblings, he even got along with Arya, and she didn't like too many people, she had asked Robb if Jon had said he didn't like her, but Robb had just said he hadn't, though-

"Don't be silly Sansa, he definitely likes you, and if he didn't he'd get in trouble from me!"

At that, he had flexed his arm in a poor imitation of the strong men at the Northern Games, and grinning cheekily.

She had forgotten her worry that afternoon after that, but it all came rushing back now.

Sansa had been nice! She had curtsied, and said hello and smiled, and she had thought he looked very nice, she had liked his pretty eyes.

But he had just stood there, gaping like a fish, until his sister had elbowed him!

She didn't understand! Aegon was nice, he talked to her properly, Sansa couldn't help but he glad he was her betrothed, even if she hadn't seen him much, and he seemed to prefer playing with his other friends than with them, and didn't have nearly as pretty eyes as-

Well. She would give Prince Jon a piece of her mind.

Tears still welling in her eyes, Sansa stomped as gracefully as possible over to the garden where Rhaenys said Jon would likely be.

Seeing him bent over some flowers, looking ever so peaceful, Sansa stopped trying to be graceful and ran over to the boy, planting herself in front of him.

"Princess Sansa!"

Sansa took in his widening eyes and flushed face happily, thinking he had finally realised his rudeness, but would not be deterred from a proper dressing down.

"Prince Jon, if you don't like me then-then that is okay, but I want to know why!" Sansa allowed herself to stomp her foot at this point, too upset to care for being ladylike.

"What- don't like- wait-"

"Don't try and say you don't! You won't talk to me when I try, but you talk to everyone else, and you play with the others and not me and- and you didn't even ask me!"

Sansa wasn't used to not being liked, especially by people she wanted to like her. She always tried to be nice, and she couldn't think of anything she'd done to Jon.

Frustrated and embarrassed about having to confront the boy before her, the tears that had been welling, started to escape.

They jumpstarted Jon out of his shocked silence.

"Oh no! Sansa, oh don't cry, please don't cry, oh gods-"

"You shouldn't say that, it's rude to the gods," Sansa managed to interject between hasty sniffles and wiping her face.

"I'm sorry, I won't, just please, please, please don't cry. Here, have this-"

Sansa took the handkerchief with slight suspicion, not sure why he was talking to her now, and even being nice!

"I'm really sorry Princess, I didn't mean to make you think that. I was just worried- I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of you."

"What?"

"Well, you're so good at being a Princess, and you're very proper, and pretty, and polite, and I didn't want to look an idiot."

Sansa considered this in between blowing her nose.

"Here, just wait, let me, let me get something, I'll be right back, don't move!"

Sansa watched as the boy ran off to the palace backwards, shouting back as he went.

Deciding to wait she sat down. Well. That was a stupid reason not to talk to her. He just went and embarrassed her.

But he had called her pretty, so he couldn't be all bad.

She might, maybe, possibly forgive him.

Brought out of her deliberations by her name being called again, she turned to see Jon running back towards her across the lawn.

"Here, I made this for you today, but I was too scared to give it to you, that's why I didn't ask you to play too."

He placed a garland of daisies, lopsided and shedding, upon the crown of her head.

Sansa didn't know what to say, but she thought, as she tackled him with a hug, that she could, probably, definitely, forgive him after all.

...

Three years later, Jon was 13 and Sansa was 11, and they were, Sansa thought, the very best of friends.

Well of course, Rhaenys was also her best friend, but she had best friends her age as well, and her and Rhaenys talked about different things than her and Jon. It was just different.

After all, no one knew how to make Sansa laugh like Jon did. Except for maybe Robb (and Arya when they were on the same side, but she wouldn't admit that under pain of death) and he never did so with the soft gentleness of Jon.

Jon was always gentle, so very, very gentle.

Smiling fondly over at her knight, lying beside her under the blue skies and warm wind, Sansa knew what she wished for.

"I want my knight to smile more, if it pleases you. After all Sir Jon, you have such a pretty grin, I would not want to waste it."

Jon grinned at her.

"As my Lady commands."

"Why does Aegon have to marry Sansa?"

Rhaenys looked over at her littlest brother, sitting on her bed, confused eyes peering up at her.

She sighed, you'd think at 15 years old, the boy would have asked such a question before, but it had never really been an issue, before this year.

"Is this about Sansa not being able to spend time with you as much this year? I know you've already had an argument with her about it, so don't lie and deny it!"

Jon's naturally brooding face grew even more brooding.

"...maybe."

Rhaenys gave an even bigger sigh, gods, why did she have to put up with such idiots, really.

"Aegon shall be king, little brother, and Sansa shall be queen. That is why they must marry. The insult and harm done to the North in the past century, partly by our grandfather, can only be mended by the sharing of power that a betrothal would achieve. The treaty was made so that it was ensured a Northerner would have say in the treatment of their homeland, sharing the throne is the only way to ensure this.

"Aegon and Sansa must marry because they are the first to fulfil the requirements of the treaty, Jon. They are, unfortunately, in this situation, the sacrificial goats."

"But-but, why not have you marry one of the Stark boys! You are eldest, and first in line to the throne!"

Rhaenys shook her head, Jon knew these facts already, knew the answers to his questions, but he refused to think it all through.

"It is how the treaty sets out the balance of power Jon, you know this. A Queen married to a King has more power than a prince consort married to a Queen, and besides, the agreement was set out before the rites of inheritance were changed. I certainly am more than glad to relinquish my rights to the crown and I also would rather not marry any man."

At this, Jon let out a begrudging chuckle, but his eyes still frowned and his lips were tinged melancholy.

"Jon, listen. Go and find Sansa, apologise to her and then run amok with her as you always have. Treasure the time you do have together, rather than mourn what you do not."

"Are you... wearing... a dress?"

"So you have spotted the change, my dear third-cousin-of-my-father's-brother's-mother-in-law!"

Robb slung an arm around Jon's neck as he joined him and Arya in their corner of the ballroom.

Jon rolled his eyes exasperatedly at his fellow prince, whose commitment to his long-standing joke of giving Jon the most ridiculous relation possible was going on 6 years.

Turning back to Arya, he asked once again, "Are you actually wearing a dress? You've never worn a dress, you hate dresses, what did your Mother possibly blackmail you with to get you to wear a dress?"

And it was not as ridiculous question as it sounded. Arya's hatred of dresses had become legendary throughout all the royal families of Westeros. Not once had she worn one to a state dinner or ball. Not. Once.

But tonight, she had on a dark green, almost black creation that sat high on her neck, leaving her arms sleeveless, and was form fitting except from where it swept out from the base of her waist. In... a... skirt?

The dress looked wonderful, no doubt of that, and Jon noted absently that Prince Gendry Baratheon was making no secret of the glances he sent Arya's way every few minutes. It somehow made it look like Arya was nearing tall, or at least not short, as she admittedly was.

"Wait! Don't! I want to say it!" Arya huffed and rolled her eyes but let her older brother interject once more.

He coughed regally before saying in a voice almost too pompous to bear, "It is an 'elongating wide-legged silhouetted jumpsuit'."

"Uh. A what?"

Jon thought Arya might strain herself with the force of her eye rolling at him this time.

"It's a jumpsuit you idiot, but it's wide legged, so it looks like a skirt."

"Ahhh, I understand now. Yup, well. It looks great, where did you get it?"

At this, Arya actually smiled fondly, her lips quirking up in a soft smirk.

"Silly Sansa made it for me actually. She found out that I, well that I," and here Arya blushed, "that I wanted to look good tonight. Like a girl. Pretty. I wanted to look pretty.

"She didn't tell me, she just put it on my bed the other night and let me find it. I thought it was a dress too, almost didn't try it on. But I did, and Jon, it's so comfy! And I can still run! And there's no weird breezes, and I'm not worrying about looking stupid and it fits so well. And it's well, it's perfect."

Jon could hardly believe his ears. Arya, whose praise was usually around two syllables long on a generous day, was gushing. Gushing.

"Yup, good old Sansa, she came through for you, little sister," and with a push that had her glaring at him, Robb spurred Arya over towards the Stormlands contingent with a wink. "Go impress Prince Charming now, and thank Sansa when you do!"

Jon was mostly otherwise occupied when Robb started talking to him again after that though, sweeping his gaze around to find Sansa, wondering if she had seen their little gathering take place.

Finally he caught sight of her, and whilst he registered a brief feeling of discomfort in his stomach at seeing her in the arms of some Reach lord, he could only admire the radiant smile on her face as she watched her sister punch Gendry Baratheon on the shoulder after he whispered something in her ear as they danced.

Watching her, watching them, so kind, so sweet, so Sansa- Jon felt something within him give way.

Gods, she was just so- Sansa.

"Sansa, if you could be anything, anything but what and who we are, who would you be?"

"A florist. Or a jeweller. Maybe a fashion designer. Or a historian. But probably a florist."

Jon hummed, pushing a stray hair behind Sansa's ear as she sat before him mending a rip in his favourite sweater. Of course he could afford another one with the blink of his eye, but he could never turn down Sansa when she asked to fix something, to care for him.

"Why a florist?"

Jon could see her as one though, surrounded by beautiful, natural, flowering creatures all day. Just like her. Quickly he tucked that sort of thought away, even though admiring Sansa had been part of his makeup since he first met her.

He could hardly stop himself now.

"Flowers can mean so much. And I'm not just talking about the language of flowers, I mean, what flowers mean to the people that give them, that receive them."

Giving up on looking anywhere else, Jon lay back, resting his head on her lap whilst stretching his legs out before him on the grass.

"How so?"

Sansa finally put down his sweater and focused on him; Jon smothered the cheer that went up inside of him at having her undivided attention.

"Well a lover can give flowers because they want to romance someone, because they want to seduce someone, or they could do it merely because the flower reminded them of how beautiful their love is, to brighten their day, to just say, I love you. And flowers can be a thank you, for loving me, yes, but for caring for me, for being with me, for standing by me. And they can be a celebration, a memory or a mourning all at once."

"A memory. Like you and me, and your wreath?"

Jon held his breath, cursing at himself for suggesting such a thing, unsure if he wanted her to admit the flowers meant the same to her as they did to him.

But then Sansa smiled that gorgeous tender thing, that Jon had only ever seen in this glade, this little patch of garden that was theirs. And in that moment, he felt the restlessness that crawled along his shoulders every time he was near her lately, that had plagued him since he realised Sansa was becoming a woman, settle.

And in that moment, Jon felt at once laid open to every eye that thought to look, and as though the world was at his fingertips.

"Yes, Jon. Like you and me."

"Jon- Jon! You need to calm down. Please, calm down-"

"How, Sansa?! How am I meant to calm down when he goes and pulls shit like that! As if he doesn't know he insults you every time he-"

"Jon. Calm. Down. Now."

Sansa was pleased to see Jon snap his mouth shut at her firm tone, glad that after twelve years of friendship she still had the upper hand.

She was less glad that he proceeded to kick a chair halfway across the room.

As soon as he did it though, Sansa could see his eyes widen and him quickly turn to her, hands out placating and eyes wide and gorgeous, hoping he hadn't scared her.

"Shh, I'm fine. It's fine Jon, I'm used to it."

As soon as she said it she knew her words would have the opposite effect to her intention.

He blew up again.

"But that's it! You shouldn't have to used to it! There shouldn't be an it in the first place. He shouldn't ever even bloody look at another woman! He's got the best one bloody well promised to him since birth but the fucker still feels the need to fuck around?"

Sansa could see Jon's shoulders shaking in his fury, felt the tremble in his chest as she placed a hand over his heart. She couldn't help the swelling in her own chest at his words, stamped down the melting of her legs and the porcelain smile trying to break across her face.

"Jon you know as well as I, that what Aegon feels for me, or I for Aegon, is inconsequential. If he wishes to have his flings, why should I stop him. As long as they do not continue when we are married-"

"If he dared-" Jon snarled out his words, obviously too angry to finish.

"He will not. Do not worry for me Jon. I will be fine. I am strong."

"Aye," and finally Jon let his grimace fall to a fond stare, "that you are. You really are strong."

"Good. Now stop being jealous," Jon spluttered but couldn't get a denial out in time, "and come read to me, I'm rather cold and could do with company on the sofa, and I do so love your Mr. Darcy impression."

And as always, Jon grinned.

"As my Lady commands."

"Sansa?"

Jon could see her hastily wiping away tears, using the sleaves of her dressing gown instead of the handkerchief she always seemed to have at the ready.

She turned a bright smile over to him, trying to hide the redness of her eyes behind the brilliance of her grin.

As per usual though, it didn't work on him.

Two steps later and she was in his arms, hoisted onto his lap, safely entrenched on the padded bench placed on the private balcony.

Her sobs renewed about two seconds after that.

"Hush, sweetling, shhh, oh my sweet Sansa."

They only came harder.

Jon cradled her closer and kissed her forehead.

They didn't move for the rest of the night.

"Jon, are you a virgin?"

Jon hadn't known his face could feel so hot until that moment.

"Wh-wha-what?"

"A virgin. Are you one?"

"Sansa, I'm 24!"

"So, plenty of people, especially people like us, don't have sex until they're married still. Or just later on."

Absolutely flabbergasted, Jon stood stock still with his mouth dropped open. That still seemed to happen quite often around Sansa.

Walking up to him she closed his mouth with her fingertips on his chin and a cheeky little smirk curling on her lips and in her eyes.

"Well?"

"Why?! Why all of a sudden do you want to know?"

"Uh uh, don't try to distract me, young Jon-"

"I'm older than you!"

"-I want my answer! Come on, I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

Jon suddenly felt much more eager to spill the beans, if only to torture himself with the knowledge of whatever lucky bastard had claimed such a title. Absolute cunt, he was sure.

"Ygritte."

Fuck, he hadn't meant to blurt that out.

"Ygritte?! The ambassador from North of the Wall, that visited a couple of years ago?! Her?!"

Jon couldn't tell beyond his hope that her anger was driven by jealousy, but Sansa seemed rather upset by this information.

"Yeah, but it didn't last or anything. She headed back North, and I stayed here of course. It was just a fling.

"Anyway, who was yours?"

"Aegon."

An increasingly familiar boiling fever swept over Jon at his brother's name.

He loved his brother, he did. Half siblings or not, Aegon and Rhaenys would always be his true brother and sister. But there was only so much jealousy and resentment of a gift left unappreciated that one could stand before it festered.

"Really?"

Suddenly all of Sansa's bravado had disappeared, and Jon watched as she hugged her arms to herself.

"Yes. He was my first. There have been a couple others, very discreet, private things. Sandor, and Dickon. But Aegon was the first. And soon he'll be the only, the last."

And then it was quiet. Sansa sat with her arms tight around herself, eyes glued straight ahead. And Jon sat with his elbows on his knees, palms pressing into his eyes, trying desperately not to let the heat of his anger, at the world, his father, her father, and everyone before and here and now and future, overtake him.

And there they sat. Together.

"Why do you torture yourself like this?"

"No one, Rhaenys, you cannot tell her, or him, or anyone."

She could feel her heart breaking for her brother, not so little any more.

She stood over him, holding the ripped out front page of the Kings Landing Telegraph.

Couple of the Century, Princess Sansa and Prince Aegon once again steal the show on a series of romantic public outings.

"Please Rhaenys. Please. No one can know."

Oh Jon, she thought, everyone that matters, already knows.

She wondered if it was cruel of her, loving that he could not take his eyes off her.

Rejoicing in his dropped mouth and wide eyes.

Looking as he did in his black evening suit, with his hair pulled back into the most enticing man bun she had ever seen- she could only think he deserved it.

She had chosen the gown, silver and form fitting and showing enough skin to tantalise, but not enough to shock. Though he certainly looked shocked, she giggled to herself.

Tonight marked the beginning of the end after all.

Her Engagement Ball was taking place, and everyone and anyone was there to celebrate.

One year. She had one year.

Suddenly feeling too hot, too close, too fast, too soon- she stepped out onto the shadowed balcony alcove along the servant's corridor.

She had found the most effective way to deal with her upcoming marriage was to not think of it at all. But that proved rather hard when she was standing there, supposedly celebrating it.

She heard a figure slide onto the balcony behind her, and she turned with a practiced smile at the ready.

And she dropped it as soon as she saw who it was.

"Jon." And she couldn't help the smile that broke across her face at seeing him.

And then she saw something break in him.

The next moment she was back against the balcony, two arms caging her in and a solid (gods, so solid) body standing guard at her front.

"Sansa, you look. Gods- you look straight out of my dreams."

His head came forward to rest right in front of her, their eyes burning into one another. She could feel her breath growing laboured, felt the heat pouring off his body, so close but so far from hers.

He was devouring her with his eyes, more open than he had ever been before, desperate in his gaze and heavy with his breathing.

"Please, Gods please. Sansa."

He was begging, but he wasn't begging her, she knew that.

She would beg the gods too, if she felt she could talk in that moment.

Instead she felt her knees wobble beneath her silver dress, and strong hands give up their stony grip to hold her with gentle care.

So gentle. He was so, so gentle.

He pressed them together, temple to temple, and she could hear his heart beat, felt each ragged breath and knew hers matched. That she too could only savour, could only dream.

"Jon? Sansa?"

They didn't jump apart, they didn't even move.

She could tell they were both wondering what would happen if they just never let go.

Finally, the head and body of the King in the North came through the alcove curtain, stopping short at the sight of their embrace.

"Sansa?"

She knew in that moment that if she held on, Jon would never let go, he would hold on to her through everything.

But she also knew that everything had consequences. So many consequences, for so many that she cared for.

She let go.

"I'd be a carpenter."

"What?"

"I'd be a carpenter, or an electrician. I'd have a small business. With a few employees that were more friends than co workers."

Jon broke off another piece of lemon cake and popped it into her mouth, if only to stop her questions.

She had pulled away that night, and he understood. But he, he couldn't hide anymore. Not to her anyway. He knew that she saw the feelings that infused his every move, his every moment.

He admitted it. He wanted her to break too.

He didn't want her to hide anymore either.

"I'd go to work everyday, and I'd make sure that I had roses and daisies planted in my garden at home. Sometimes I'd get home before my wife. And then I'd stop and make her a wreath of flowers, even though, as a florist she would've been around them all day.

"When she got home I'd meet her outside the front door, put her wreath on and carry her through the doorway, just like newlyweds. Because I know I'd feel like a newlywed everyday.

He could see the tears starting to pool in Sansa's eyes and he gave her more lemon cake and continued rambling.

"I'd build her things. Shelves for her favourite books, like Austen and I'd read them to her, over and over as many times as she liked. I'd make her chairs to sit in when she was carrying our child, and a stool to put her feet on so I could rub them.

"I'd help her with her flower shop, and make sure she knew my flowers always had meaning. That they always carried memories. We'd go for a walk to the local bakery in the mornings and buy lemon cakes and apple scrolls and finish them before we got back home.

"I'd be a carpenter and I would make her tables to put vases and vases of flowers in. You could have a room for your sewing, and a garden for your shop, and we could sit in it, and make love under the stars on a blanket in our garden.

"I would make love to you every moment I could, after work, before work, during work, on the weekends, or during our daughter's naptime, when we find a moment to ourselves-"

And he knows he's crying and she's crying but now oh gods now-

Sansa's kissing him, she's kissing him and it's everything he ever dreamed it could be.

And then his hands are on her cheek and in her hair, and one of hers is grasping his shirt on his chest and one is pulling on his curls, and his tongue's in her mouth, running along the roof of her mouth, twisting against her tongue, and then she does this thing with her tongue- and he's gone, a hand on her hip now, pulling her so close he can't tell where her heat ends and his begins.

Both hands to her gods damned beautiful arse then, lifting her up and -ugh, fuck, her legs wrapped around him are where they're meant to be, always, he swears.

There's a fire raging through him but she's caught as well, and he knows that they'll fall to ash together. That's all that matters now.

But he has to taste more of her, has to, now.

Breaking away from her mouth is the hardest thing he's ever done but the taste of her throat and chest and oh gods fuck the taste of her breasts is a very good distraction. She moans above him, hips bucking and writhing, and head thrown back, gasps and glorious sounds pouring unending from her swollen lips.

He disconnects for the ten seconds it takes for them both to undress and he has her on the table now, the left over lemon cakes thrown to the floor in haste and desperation.

"Gods Sansa, so long... dreamed, so fucking long..."

"I know... me... me too... ugh-please, please Jon..."

Her begging may have just about ended him but so had the view of her glorious body, only a part of what makes her his Sansa, but still so beautiful and a part of her just as worthy of being worshiped as her dreams and her mind.

Nipples the same shade as her lips almost call to him and he's latched on before he even processes the thought, hands eagerly searching out the other place that can make her moan for him, gods but she is moaning for him.

Fingers dip into a pool of wetness and he cannot resist, it would be futile to try.

Rushing as much as he dares, because he will savour this, fuck the gods he will savour this moment to cradle to his soul for the rest of his life, he kisses his way down her stomach. He leaves marks in his wake, just as he did on her throat and breast.

Maybe he shouldn't but he needs to know that there will be proof, even if it isn't eternal, but he needs there to be some proof tomorrow that this happened.

Reaching her cunt, he pauses to breathe her in, musk and salt and arousal, before licking a stipe from the bottom of her slit to her clit, sitting swollen, pink and perfect and the crown of her mound.

Sansa lets out a breathy scream and Jon doesn't think he's been prouder in his entire life.

He sinks his tongue into her first, getting a deep and devouring taste of her, memorising it for every night, every day in the future. Nothing will ever taste as good as her in this moment.

His name has turned into moans and screams on her lips as he moves up to brush the tip of his tongue across her clit, delighting in the buck of her hips and the thrust of her cunt into his face.

Fingers now, in and out and his mouth and tongue sucking and swiping, and his name is still on her tongue but she's trembling and she's so gods damn tight he can barely breathe for the picture she makes, enraptured in her pleasure.

She comes and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Then she's clawing at his back, bring him up to lay on top of her and she says

"Please, Jon. Please. I need you."

And he could never resist her after all.

When he finally sinks into her, it's the best moment of his life, and the worst as well. Because he knows, nothing will ever, ever compare to being joined to her. To Sansa.

He had always imagined their first joining a furious burst of passion, ending gloriously but quickly with short pounding strokes.

They make love for the first time on the table on his room, forbidden and star crossed they are, he takes his time, and he will know every inch of her body by the time he is through.

He draws out slow and steady, letting her feel him, feeling her in return. She's so hot, so tight, so fucking, fucking wet they make obscene sounds every time he moves within her.

It only makes him go slower.

He loves it, loves hearing her desire, loves feeling how wet he's made her, and soon he's gently circling her clit, still moving his hips with aching slowness. But then she's coming, gasping and grasping at his shoulders and teeth biting where his neck meets his shoulder.

He wants to close his eyes, it feels so fucking good, but she's so gorgeous, coming on his cock for him, he can't bring himself to ever take them off her again.

And then he's speeding up, lifting her legs up and over his shoulders, kissing her, kissing her, fucking so bloody deep into her he can't- he can't-

He comes as she clenches around him again, her own fingers on her clit this time and still, even as his vision goes white from the feel of his come shooting into her tight, slick warmth, knowing on a primal and deeply satisfying level that she has him inside of her now, he cannot take his eyes of her gorgeous face.

Her beautiful, beautiful face.

"I love you."

His cock's still inside her, they're naked on his side table, and she's engaged to his brother.

There's never been a more perfect moment.

Her hand reaches up and cups his cheek so loving and warm, he can't help but lean in and kiss it.

"I know," and tears are in their eyes again, he sees them in hers and feels them in his, "I love you too."

And then the door slams open.

"Oh Gods!"

"Fuck, what the fuck!"

"Ah, little brother."

Jon thinks everything may have ended.

Ten minutes after the most amazing moment of her life, Sansa is wrapped in Jon's dressing gown, sitting on a bed, and wondering what will happen now.

Jon and Aegon are standing before her, and she doesn't think she's ever been as tense as she is in this moment.

"Aegon. I love Sansa, she loves me and I cannot, will not let you marry her."

Half of Sansa agrees with Jon's stance, half cannot fear what will happen, all of her loves him even more for his words.

"I know."

"I'm sorry for keeping- wait, what?"

Sansa cannot help but agree. What?

"It's not like you didn't make it obvious, you are both rather poor actors, anyone who knew you knew you were in love from the day you met. Honestly."

Aegon is at this point picking his fingernails with a shit eating grin on his face, Sansa knows her fiancé is not a bad person, she knows him, but she cannot help but fear that expression.

"Do not worry little brother dear, and my dear Sansa, I'll not say a word, but you have to promise me to do me a favour in the morning."

Jon and Sansa exchange glances, but cannot think of anything he would make them do that he could not achieve by simply telling the truth now.

"What would you have us do?" Sansa enters the conversation for the first time, ignoring the wobble in her voice.

"Ah that, you'll find out in the morning. Don't worry, you won't be able to miss it."

Morning comes, and Jon fears for his future.

It turns out that Rhaenys is the one to break the news.

Sansa is still in his room after last night, they decided if it was to be their final and only night together, they would make the most of it at least.

She bursts in, paper in hand, slippers and dressing gown still on.

She stops suddenly, taking in the picture of the two of them, Jon curled protectively around Sansa, their faces ready and braced for their penalties.

She lets out a great bellow of laughter, and is soon wiping tears from her eyes.

"That's why the great idiot decided to do it today, a month early, idiot man. Poor things, he probably had you worrying the night away,"� she giggles, "though you were probably too busy doing other things to wile the night away."

"Rhaenys, what's going on? What do you mean?"

"Here, you lovesick idiots in love, read this, and brace yourselves, there might not be an easy ride ahead."

Jon grabs the paper out of her outstretched arm and he and Sansa sit up to read it together, headless of their nudity.

CROWN PRINCE AEGON TO ABDICATE TO MARRY SECRET LOVE, ACTRESS MARGAERY TYRELL. PRINCE JON TARGARYEN TO TAKE HIS PLACE AS KING AND BETROTHED TO PRINCESS SANSA STARK.

The headline is huge and accompanied by a photo of Aegon at what is obviously a press conference.

"We all agreed that you would rule better than Aegon anyway, he himself included, and he and Margaery really do seem to be in some sort of love. I think."

With that, she up and left the room.

Jon looked over to Sansa, feeling as though someone had just hit him upside the head with a war hammer.

But this meant- this meant-

"Will you marry me?"

Once again, his words come out before he can think them.

Her lips come up to meld with his and he feels tears upon her cheeks once more.

"Yes, my knight, I will marry you. Yes, yes, yes, yes."

Every acceptance is accompanied by a kiss and Jon is air, he is light, he is the taste of her lips and the love in her eyes.

He is Sansa's. And she is his.

And their next kiss, it is gentle.

So, so, very, very gentle.

[lassluna]

Freeing the Witch (8/20)

Betad by the talented @notoriouscs. 

Once Upon a Time, there was Emma Swan the Savior and Killian Jones the fearsome pirate Captain Hook. But this is not that time, this is not that place, this is the time of the Dark Swan and a cowardly Deckhand who dares to think he could save her and live to tell the tale…Especially when things get complicated.

ffn Ao3

Chapter 8

The Trap

They’re trudging through snow. It’s cold on her feet, and the flakes that have just started falling stick to her skin. Her boots are soaked, and she’s in the worst mood possible. Emma doesn’t understand how anyone could want to be around this stuff ever, let alone live in it all the time. She’d prefer a grassy meadow or a stone tavern any day.

“Look Ems! It’s snowing! Isn’t it simply divine?” Elsa says gleefully, practically skipping, and singing.

I don’t care about our plan. If she starts singing, I’m going to show her what happens to frozen things in summer, Emma vows, eyeing the witch carefully.

Elsa winks back, obviously knowing that she’s getting to Emma.

The snow is agonizing enough. Emma forgot just how giddy Elsa gets when she’s in her element, literally. It’s disgusting. But it does remind her of her first meeting with the young queen, a memory that felt like a lifetime ago.

Emma had just run away from her mother, lost and alone in the world. She thought she would always be stuck on the run, hiding from Queen Snow’s men.But then Ingrid found her and changed everything. Ingrid was filled with light and happiness who comforted a runaway sorceress when she had nothing. It was the same magical day that Elsa, still in her coronation attire, eyes brimming with tears, found Ingrid and Emma. Everything changed for two scared, powerful young women on the same day.

“I hate the snow,” Emma snaps back to the present. “And you. How far is this prison anyway?” It didn’t seem so far on Killian’s map. She can cross realms without breaking a sweat, but she can’t stand this snow for a moment longer.

Elsa stops, tapping her cheek in thought. “Another hour’s walk?” she guesses. “Is that too much for you?”

“Nope,” Emma replies, popping the p, suppressing her desire to start an argument. They can’t do that. It isn’t a part of the plan. Fighting would get in the way of the show they need to put on, and if there is anything they excel at, it’s putting on a good show.

When they first met, their interactions were civil, behavior that was drilled into both of them growing up as princesses in their own castles.They were both dirty little secrets.

The years of hostility from those supposed to love them and the constant emphasis on being in control, showing no emotion, had nearly driven them mad. They were raised as weapons, to one day be unleashed as their kingdoms’ personal attack dogs under the control of their vindictive parents, yet still required to maintain the façade of innocent princesses dispute the curses inflicted upon them.

 Who knew hating your parents could make you such close friends, but close they were. Emma and Elsa were like sisters.

Ingrid, Emma and Elsa were a family. They had been happy.

Elsa stops for a second, eyeing Emma carefully. Emma gives a small nod in agreement; she sensed their presence as well. If they stop, the plan is ruined, so they press on, both feigning ignorance of the forces watching them. It’s only a matter of time before they make their move. Armies tend not to be the most patient creatures.

It is starting.

“Hold it, villain!” cries a voice. Emma and Elsa stop, magic at the ready as if surprised by the small group of guards who quickly surround them, brandishing swords.

Emma smiles at the thought that those metal twigs could harm her. She is the Dark One, and soon, they’ll know what that means.

“You are in Arendelle. Magical beings like you are strictly forbidden,” says someone, a guard Emma assumes. but his armour looks decorated strangely. She looked over at Elsa.

A guard? She silently asks.

Elsa nods at her before looking back at the group. She steps forward, keeping her back straight as an arrow. “I am Elsa, eldest daughter of Queen Gerda and rightful heir to the kingdom,” she announces in that princess voice that was instilled in both her and Emma since childhood, a voice they would always have in their arsenals whether they liked it or not. “I command thee to lay down your weapons.”

It’s a noble effort, but one they both knew was doomed to fail. Elsa wasn’t the rightful heir in the eyes of the people, not since Ingrid took her away from the castle, away from everything.

Ingrid drove the first wedge when she started talking about light magic and forgiving  those who had wronged them. Emma didn’t want to forgive her mother, whom she believed never truly loved her. But Ingrid insisted that because Snow had magic, she could join their family.

She tried no such argument with Elsa’s sister who had long proven her inability to accept what she did not understand.

Ingrid saw the world as us against them. She hated non-magic users, and she believed that possessing magic was enough to bond people together. She thought that with a little love and compassion, Queen Snow could be reformed, that the four of them could be a family.

Emma didn’t take it very well, constantly arguing with Ingrid, who just didn’t understand that Emma’s mother was beyond rehabilitation. The unfeeling monarch who manipulated her own daughter into becoming a monster didn’t want or deserve Emma’s forgiveness.  But Ingrid refused to listen.

Elsa, on the other hand, kept insisting that not all mortals were bad. Emma always caught her staring off into the distance, waiting for something, or maybe someone, to appear in the distance. Emma was sure to it was non-magical, for why else would Elsa keep it a secret? Whenever Emma questioned her, the almost-queen would smile softly.

“He made me a promise,” she said, and that was that.

“Our king is Hans,” the lead guard says sharply, bringing Emma back to the present. “You, witch, are an enemy of this kingdom.” Elsa isn’t fazed by his assertion. She’s heard it many times before.

Suddenly there are guards upon them, swiping at them mercilessly with their weapons, aiming to kill, not capture.

The sorceresses reply just as fiercely. After so much time in the close quarters of the ship, they desperately need the release of tension, the release of the darkness gripping their hearts, the release that these foolish guards seem oh so eager to give them.

It would be so easy to just kill them all with a single wave of her wrist, burying them in the snow, watching as they struggle for breath, as the life slowly drains from their bodies. Such a sight would fill Emma with glee, but then more will come. And when she dispatches those, then the magical prisoners under Hans’ control will be summoned to deal with them. No, Emma can’t have that. She needs to be underestimated, to be overlooked as a real threat.

So she doesn’t allow the battle to seem so totally one-sided. Instead Emma burns the guards with fireballs or breaks their bones by sheer force of will instead of what she’d usually do if she wanted to win: tear out their hearts one by one.

She looks to her left to see Elsa freezing solid those foolish enough to come at her, sending each human ice sculpture crumbling with a quick blow from an icicle staff. Her chilling laugh pierces the air as her power merges with the everlasting snowstorm.

If anyone questioned if they were monsters before, they wouldn’t after seeing the lack of regret in their eyes, Elsa’s joy as she kills, and their smirks reveling in their complete control. They work well together, the two bloodthirsty blondes. Just like old times, except now they can actually kill people.

Then one day Emma told Elsa her plan. Emma was going to run away. She was tired of obeying Ingrid’s rules, of always feeling like she let Ingrid down when she just couldn’t feel how the woman wished she would.

Elsa lost it, screaming that Emma was leaving her like everyone else did. She begged Elsa to leave too, but her sister couldn’t leave her only blood family she had left. Emma swore to Elsa that she’d be back, she’d come back for her, for her sister.

And Emma did return a few years later, but instead of triumphant, she came back lost and afraid again, just like when Ingrid found her the first time. Emma was burdened by a terrible secret, and she needed Elsa. She needed her sister.

But when Emma left, their sibling love had melted to bitter rivalry. Both felt betrayed by the other. Elsa’s coldness when she most needed her support reaffirmed for Emma that she was better off alone. She was better off without magic. And so Emma did what she did best.

She ran. Ran from Ingrid, ran from Elsa, ran from her kingdom.

Ran from her fate.

Something smacks Emma on the back, knocking her from her memories to whirl around to face her attacker,.

“Hello, lass. Miss me?” drawls a voice, flashing a wink with his good eye.

“Of course, Captain,” she replies evenly, conjuring her blade as all the approaching guards back off, watching the two circle each other slowly. “I’d never get tired of your pretty face.” And then she strikes.

He blocks her attack with ease, flicking his wrist just so to pull the blade from her grip.

“But it isn’t so pretty anymore, is it?” she teases darkly, eyeing the dark bruise on his face. Without a second thought he slashes at her, cutting open her wrist.

She hisses in pain before switching to fireball attacks. He doesn’t panic, just calmly deflects the magic with his enchanted sword, driving her backwards with her own firepower. Emma notices the remaining guards, those not being slaughtered by the homicidal Ice Queen, of course, watching with awe. This newcomer is easily dealing with the monster who was demolishing their forces unchecked only moments before.

In sudden fury she leaps at him, really aiming for her fallen weapon.

“I’m going to cut out your throat, you dirty pirate,” she spits as she pulls the sword toward her with a bit of magic and shoots him a coy smirk.

“Dirty? I bathe quite frequently, thank you,” he responds. He swings full force, hitting Emma across the face with the blunt side of his weapon.

She blinks once before losing her balance and falling backward. He catches her quickly, bridal style, head rolling onto his shoulder. She may be the Dark Swan of the realm, but even she has her weaknesses. She just hopes sharing them with the sailor was the right choice.

He settles her gently on the ground. “Good night, my fair maiden.” It’s soft and sweet in her ear, making her fight a smile as she drifts into unconsciousness.

Another whisper of his voice is even lower. “You can trust me, Swan. All will be well. Your plan will work.”

Emma wakes much as she expected to, chained to the wall in a cell. The restraints scratch at the rash left behind from her last stint in captivity, but these chains are a bit wider than they should be, nothing like the ones back in her tower. They barely suppress her magic. She had thought Hans was an expert in this, or perhaps she is just more of an expert at escaping. she doesn’t know.

Fortunately, they separated her from Elsa. Emma couldn’t handle the Ice Queen’s whining for the duration of their rescue/escape. Hopefully Elsa stuck to the plan and let Killian best her as well. They had decided that getting him close to whoever was in charge of this prison was the best course of action. Convincing the King’s forces to see Killian as their savior seemed like easiest way to make that happen.

But Emma has to admit, he is getting good with a sword. She only has a few notes of improvement for him from their staged fight. Sure, her magical attacks missed purposely, and she had taught him the move that ripped her sword from her hand, but with a few more weeks of practice, he might even surpass her with a blade.

“Rise, demon,” demands a voice. Emma turns her head and moves closer to the bars, making the armor-clad guard jump.

“Of course,” she purrs. “Where’s the Captain? He’s the one who caught me, not any of you incompetent fools.”

The man doesn’t react, instead pushing a tray through a small hole in the bars. It’s disgusting. She’d rather starve than eat that mess. Good thing it’s not an issue, since the Dark One doesn’t actually need food.

“He is speaking to the King,” the guard replies stiffly.

The King? Emma suppresses a groan. She expected the fool to come when he heard they captured his sister-in-law, but she had hoped he wouldn’t arrive so quickly.

No matter. Her plan will still work. They always do.

“Speaking about little ol’ me?” she flirts. “You Arendellians sure know how to flatter a lady.”

The man grins a little too widely. It makes Emma nervous. He steps closer to her cage, aiming to taunt her. He obviously doesn’t know who she is, what she can do. Perhaps she had let them underestimate her a little too much if they think these chains will keep her magic at bay.

“Actually, my king isn’t too trusting of late,” smirks the guard.  “He has a foolproof way of ensuring that no foreigner who tells him a lie lives to tell another.”

Emma doesn’t like the sound of that, especially since every word leaving Killian’s mouth is sure to be just that.

Thoughts whirl in her head. Stick to the plan and don’t worry about him, or risk the whole operation to ensure he isn’t in danger? To be honest, when she came up with the plan, she hadn’t paid much attention to whether the Sailor lived through it, but that was before...before she realized that he could still be useful to her, he could still entertain her.

He’s more than entertaining isn’t he?

The plan was for her to slip out, find Elsa and Ingrid and get out. If she looks for Killian now, it puts the plan at risk, they could all be caught, forced to do Hans’ bidding. That is a fate worse than death in her eyes. She should trust the plan, let things happen how they scripted. Yes, Emma will stick to the plan…

The guard moves to retreat from the cell bars, and Emma flips from strategizing to acting on her primal instincts.

“Well, knowledge is power after all,” she snickers, breaking her chains and flinging herself against the cage. The bars, enchanted with something strong, burn her skin, but it’s no matter. Burns will heal, she thinks. But this won’t. Emma shoves her hand into the man’s chest before he has a chance to flee. He can only gasp silently, as her first thought while gripping his beating heart is be silent.

It pulses red in her hand, oh so pretty. Emma looks up, seeing the shock and fear in the man’s eyes.

Now he knows who he’s messing with. Now he knows what happens when you cross the Dark One.

“Tell me, soldier, what does your king wish to do to the Captain?”

He has no choice. He spills his guts to her, voice dripping with terror.

She curses under her breath as she hears what they plan for her sailor.

This is not part of the plan.

[alwaysaprille]

anyway...

This scene is so important to Bellamy Blake’s development. For 4 Seasons his mantra about Octavia has been “My sister. My responsibility.” It’s his way of saying that he will always find a way to keep her safe, to protect her, to keep her from harm. 

In this moment, Bellamy is realizing that, although he still feels Octavia is his responsibility (and probably always will in some way/shape/form as that is typical father/big brother behavior) he has failed in what he considers his utmost duty: protecting her and it’s a realization he’s been working towards since Season 3.

And it’s not protecting her from physical harm. I’m pretty sure Bellamy accepted that Octavia can hold her on in physical battle a while ago, way back in Season 1, if we’re being honest, but he still believed that he could protect her from other forms of pain if he just tried hard enough. Bear with me, this might get long.

In Season 3, after Lincoln has died, we can see his ideology (that he can still protect/take care of Octavia’s emotional state) begin to crumble, even as he forcibly tries to hold it together. In 3*10 (Fallen), when Octavia and the others return to the cave without Lincoln and she releases her pain onto him, he allows this not just because he believe he deserves it, but also because he think she needs it. He is trying to take care of Octavia’s emotional state here:

(it hurt to go back and skim this script segment-someone give me a cookie.) That’s the first time he attempted to care for her emotionally and it did not work. 

Continued under the cut for length:

In 3*11 (Nevermore) with this exchange we see Bellamy reach out a hand to Octavia and be soundly rejected, but when Bellamy asks Octavia what he has to do to get back into her good graces, she gives him an answer, she tells him to bring Lincoln back:

Bellamy: “Where you gonna go?” 

Octavia: “You don't get to ask me that.” 

Bellamy: “What more do I have to do to prove that I am on your side?”

Octavia: “Bring Lincoln back.” 

That’s twice that he attempted to care for Octavia emotionally and it did not work. 

Now, we enter 3*12 (Demons) and we get a double whammy of Bellamy attempting to physically and emotionally protect Octavia. The physical? Easily spotted, when he drops his weapon and walks into the airlock so that Emerson will remove the knife from Octavia’s throat, even knowing he was dooming himself. The emotional? A callback to 3*11. Bellamy wants Octavia to forgive him. He wants her love and trust, but more importantly he wants to ensure her emotional welfare, because that is a form of protecting Octavia, which is a part of Bellamy’s core programming. Octavia said she needed him to bring back Lincoln, and obviously she meant bring him back to life-an impossibility, but Bellamy did what he could do, he returned Lincoln’s body for a proper Grounder funeral pyre and still she is not OK:

That’s three times that he’s attempted to care for Octavia emotionally and it did not work. 

Now, on to 3*13 (Join or Die) Bellamy and Octavia are trying to create a fire on the beach, thinking the search for Luna is dead. They have the following conversation:

Bellamy: “Come on, O. How long?”

Octavia: “I don't know. I can't even look at you... because every time I do, I see Pike putting that gun to Lincoln's head. I hear the gunshot. I see him fall.”

Bellamy: “I didn't kill Lincoln.”

Octavia: “No, but he is dead because of you.”

Bellamy: “I came to you. You didn't take my help. If you had just trusted me, I...”

Again, Bellamy is trying to extend a hand. He isn’t just asking how long Octavia is going to be angry with him. He’s also asking Octavia how long she needs to heal. He’s asking what he needs to do to help her heal. For the first time since 3*10 however, Bellamy doesn’t just take Octavia’s (verbal) punches laying down. He’s beginning to defend himself. He’s wondering how much of this he actually deserves. He’s beginning to question if helping Octavia heal really needs to come at his own expense. Later in this episode, we also see him do something he hadn’t done before, he opens up to Clarke about his feelings. For the first time, he’s sharing his own feelings of guilt about Lincoln’s death and he’s openly voicing his concern that he will never be able to fix what’s been broken with Octavia. This is the beginning of Bellamy’s personal healing process for his actions in Season 3A, and that’s important because Bellamy allowing Octavia to use him as a verbal and physical punching back was also symptomatic of Bellamy’s own feelings of guilt, shame and failure. 

That’s four times that he’s attempted to care for Octavia emotionally and it did not work.

In 3*14 (Red Sky at Morning) there are no long Blake sibling scenes, but there is a moment, when they are rushing off to save Luna from her ALIE chipped mermen where Bellamy says:

“O, be careful.”,

and Octavia says nothing but gives Bellamy an almost disdainful look/nod. This is probably the beginning of Octavia’s “need for speed”, the first time that she realizes that she can get a temporary “rush” from putting herself in danger/hurting others, that will help her forget her pain even if only for a second. 

That’s five times that he’s attempted to care for Octavia emotionally and it did not work.

3*15 (Perverse Instantiation, Pt 1) is the first part of our Season 3 finale and we have two significant Blake sibling scenes. The first occurs while Bellamy, Octavia, Miller and Bryan sit in the tunnels waiting for the signal to move. Miller and Bryan are discussing their hopes for planting corn and raising chickens, Bellamy looks over and sees the longing and the loss on Octavia’s (who was going to run away with Lincoln just a few weeks prior) and is clearly moved by it:

Here, I think, we see the first instance of Bellamy attempting to take Clarke’s advice from 3*13 (to give Octavia time), it’s clear Bellamy wants to say/do something, but refrains. 

This marks the sixth time Bellamy has attempted to care for Octavia’s emotional state, albeit in a different manner.

The next moment in 3*15 is when ALIE decides to use Bellamy against Clarke. Bellamy is hauled up and away and Octavia stands, asking where they are taking him before receiving a gun to the stomach for her troubles. When Bellamy realizes that her speaking out could result in more physical harm, he reassures her that it’s going to be OK. He obviously has no way of knowing if this is true or not, but he is trying to ensure that her emotional state does not result in physical harm.

This marks the seventh time Bellamy has attempted to care for Octavia’s emotional state.

In 3*16 (Perverse Instantiation, Pt 2.) Bellamy is getting desperate and it shows. After realizing that Octavia is not going to be easily swayed from her mission to kill Pike (after she slashes his leg in the hopes that the ALIE Zombies will take him) he gives her this very blunt speech:

“O? O, listen to me. I know how you feel. I let my need for revenge put me on the wrong side. I don't want that for you.” He is hoping that in admitting that he was wrong, that he was on the wrong side, that he’s suffered the loss of a loved one and allowed it to control his actions to his detriment, he can force Octavia to realize she doesn’t want to be like him. He’s hoping that in showing her what could happen if she allows her hurt to overpower her she will becomes something she has already expressed disdain for. Unfortunately, we all know it didn’t work.

This marks the eighth time Bellamy has attempted to care for Octavia’s emotional state since Lincoln’s death. 

When Season 4 opens, Bellamy is very obviously trying to distance himself from feeling too much about Octavia. He’s shut that section down for now:

“Octavia can take care of herself, that’s not what I’m worried about.”

He’s trying to distance himself from what he feels is his failure to protect Octavia, and for a while, it appears to be working. And then in 4*04 (A Lie Guarded)...Octavia “dies”, 

and any hope that Bellamy had of being able to repair their relationship is dies with her. That small bit of hidden hope that he’d buried when Clarke told him about the nuclear reactors and that became his most pressing concern, is broken and Bellamy, who has spent his entire life living by the mantra of “My Sister. My Responsibility.”, is lost.

But then, miracle of miracles: Octavia isn’t dead. She survived the stabbing and the cliff fall and more importantly when she sees Bellamy (in 4*05-The Tinder Box) she accepts his embrace and allows herself to be emotionally vulnerable in his arms, even as Arkadia is crashing and burning around them, it is painfully obvious that Bellamy has once again found hope and a reason to believe that he and Octavia can still repair their relationship. 

But of course that’s not the way things work because in 4*06 (We Will Rise) Bellamy, who thinks that Octavia accepting his embrace and seeking comfort in his arms just the night before, is harshly rebuffed. This sends Bellamy into a tailspin. He doesn’t know how to handle it and he once again talks to Clarke (at beach side no less) about his feelings. The last time they had a conversation about his relationship with Clarke, they believed the world was ending and it appears to be ending once more. 

This time Bellamy knows the pain of thinking Octavia is gone from the world and knowing that he still has unfinished business with her and he doesn’t want them to actually die with no one of ever fixing what’s been broken. Again, Clarke gives him the same advice she gave him in 3*13 (Give her time, she’ll come around). 

Bellamy appears to listen, but it’s obvious he’s not ready to put Clarke’s words into action just yet. Not until he listens to Mark’s anger at the loss of his son. Finally, he is hearing another parent (because that’s what Bellamy is to Octavia, and as popular as the Dad!Kane headcanon is-Kane isn’t actually a father and Clarke isn’t a parent either) coming face to face with the reality that he has no more time left in this world with his child. That there is nothing more he can do to save him. That Mark tried everything within his power to save Paul and he still failed. And that is the moment when Bellamy realizes he has to let Octavia go. 

That’s the moment where he realizes that he might forever live with an Octavia shaped hole in his heart absolutely, but he can no longer keep burning himself up to give Octavia light. The realization is a harsh one, and it’s not at all easy for Bellamy, but I really hope that this will pave the way for Bellamy finally coming into who he is without Octavia, something he’s never had the pleasure of finding out.