#hal goes along with it as well and soon enough the three of them are claiming heroes and villains alike as part of their family

[undertheredhood]

random person: are you dating arsenal?

jason has never seen roy as anything but his older brother's friend and is disgusted that people see them as romantic: *makes up an incredibly complicated sob story on the spot about how he and roy are actually cousins whose parents' had a nasty falling out and they were only able to meet each other because jason became robin instead of saying no like a normal person*

random person who now regrets ever asking: you could've just said no, i didn't need to hear your whole life story

(this is in reference to this post, btw)

[mymothershumility]

neverflownwithme asked: “Perhaps the world is in need of change.”

past transmissions || { always accepting }

{ Part 1 } & { Part 2 } & { Part 3 } & { Part 4 } & { Part 5 }

{ Part 6 } & { Part 7 } & { Part 8 } & { Part 9 } & { Part 10 }

{ Part 11 }

{ @neverflownwithme }

“This is the last of it.”

Gaze lifts from her desk, quill coming to pause above the parchment she has been recording the contents of the hidden room upon. The process has been a lengthy one, stretching a week and a half after the room’s discovery. Many of the scrolls and tomes from within the space have been accounted for, recorded upon Laira’s parchment as she looked over each and every one.

There are a number of journals among the tomes that she has skimmed, personal ones penned by the hands of Lady Shiera Seastar, Princess Rhaena of Pentos, and Queen Visenya Targaryen. There are others of an unknown origin, as well, penned in an unfamiliar --yet strikingly familiar-- hand.

Thus far, her work has centered around sorting and identifying the tomes, journals, and scrolls that had been scattered upon the desks and shelves within the room. She and Hal have yet to tackle the various trunks that have been pulled from the space. They remain stacked on the opposite side of her solar, shrouded in mystery. It is what Hal now carries easily in his hold, crossing the room to set the last trunk among the others.

When Laira looks back across her solar, she finds the space of the room void of everything but the desks and shelves that are set against the walls as well as the Myrish carpet lining the floor. The look of it seems entirely foreign for a moment. Yet, despite all of their work, there are still a number of questions looming above them. Laira has yet to finish one of the tomes pulled from among the stacks in full. It will take her and Hal both months to do so if they attempt such a task. Of that, she is certain.

And, in the end, it is possible that such a task will be the only way to discover the answers they so desperately wish for.

Setting her quill back upon her parchment, Laira pens the last of her entries upon the surface. There are well over a hundred journals, tomes, and scrolls upon her list. With her recording finished, Laira sets her quill back into its inkwell. She is glad to have the task done, though her back and her eyes now ache because of it.

“Visenya Targaryen and Shiera Seastar penned many of these,” Laira comments, fingers brushing upon the Lyseni crafted journal that had once belonged to the Star of the Sea. She traces the silver three headed dragon that is emblazoned across the amethyst leather, letting a soft sigh escape her. “Princess Rhaena of Pentos has penned several of them as well,” she goes on. “There are others as well, though I cannot discern to whom they once belonged.”

The journals and scrolls that she mentions are scrawled in the language of the Old Empire. Of that, Laira is certain of. She recognizes the language as easily among the ancient pages just as she does among Shiera Seastar’s recounts. What strikes her odd above all else are the mentions of the Freehold, of the descriptions of the dragonlords and the never ceasing ebb and flow as power slipped from one to another and back around again.

There is more, though... recounts of the Five Forts and the Great Empire of the Dawn… of the Blood Betrayal that had ushered in the first Long Night.

Such recounts only spawn additional questions. They only serve in deepening a tale that is already wrapped in far too much mystery.

“Perhaps a change of scenery would do us both good,” Hal recommends, leaving the trunks for then. He leans against the sturdy form of Laira’s desk when he is near enough, casting a look down at the work that she has done. “It seems as if we’ve scarcely left these walls of late.” They have had good reason to. Hal is aware of such a thing. Still, he believes setting their task aside for a time could be of benefit to them. It is possible their answers may be easier to find if they look for them with fresh eyes.

Laira listens as he speaks, gaze drifting over him as he settles his form against the edge of her desk. She cannot disagree with his words. She finds herself smiling, in fact, at his suggestion. It is a welcomed one. “I am surprised that you would object to spending your time secluded away with me, my Lord,” she teases him, watching the way the lines of his body seem to soften with her words. Such a reaction has become more frequent as of late. Laira enjoys witnessing it. “Pray tell,” she begins, chuckling as he moves and bends to set his hands upon the armrests of her chair, “have you grown bored of me already?”

“I feel you already know the answer to such a question, Your Grace,” he says, moving closer to her when she reaches to press her hand beneath his chin. “I believe you merely enjoy teasing me,” he accuses, leaning to steal a kiss from her.

She laughs against his mouth, fingers shifting until her palm is pressed to the line of his jaw. “No more than you enjoy teasing me,” Laira reminds, speaking when he pulls from her. Her thumb briefly strokes against his cheek, the pad of her finger tracing the line of a faint scar hidden beneath the light stubble of his beard. “Did you have something particular in mind for us to partake in?”

Their week has already been one of great change and challenge. In the midst of their exploration and discovery within the walls of her solar, Sansa and Helen had arrived on Dragonstone from King’s Landing in the midst of a torrential storm. Having sailed upon one of the Velaryon ships that often ferried supplies from the capital to the islands of Claw Isle, Driftmark, and Dragonstone, the girls had arrived in the dead of night, utterly terrified after additional events that had transpired within the capital.

Such events still set her husband upon edge when they speak of them. They do much the same to her. There had been little favor for the Tyrells in her husband’s heart when he arrived on Dragonstone, having already forbidden a marriage alliance that Olenna had attempted to put into place between Sansa and Willas Tyrell while he was occupied in the Stormlands. There had been little favor left in her with her husband’s revelations.

When the girls had arrived --cold and hungry and fearful-- only to reveal that Olenna had not only attempted to see Sansa married away, but had also attempted to betroth Helen to Oliver Redwyne’s son, any favor that had lingered within her and her husband for the Tyrell matriarch had burned away to ash.

“The day seems as though it may remain favorable,” Hal says. Those days upon Dragonstone are few and far between, the weather ever changing and often giving way to storms. “Perhaps we could journey down to the village with the girls,” he proposes. “Or take them down to the shore.”

“I believe they would enjoy time on the shore.” Laira has made her fair share of journies down to the village since arriving upon the island. And while the markets are filled with trade from across the sea, she believes that the girls would enjoy their day all the more if granted the time to play. Laira is uncertain when another fair day such as this one will occur on the small island.

It will be best to take advantage of it while possible.

Hal takes hold of her hand as she speaks, turning so his mouth can catch along the inside of her wrist. The kiss that he plants against her skin is whisper soft. “My thoughts as well,” he agrees. He is straightening in the next moment, drawing Laira carefully up from her seat as he goes.

She laughs again, both at his affection and his enthusiasm. Laira is happy to see it after the events of the week. There have been too many times as of late that she has seen the weight of Olenna’s betrayal pressing down upon him.

Such a matter, Laira will be certain is addressed. She will see justice given where it is due. Daenerys would have no need for a Hand who acted in such a traitorous manner. She was confident in that.

“I will ask the cooks to prepare something light for us to carry with us,” Laira said. They had broken their fast with the girls when they had woken. Midday would be upon them shortly, though, and hunger would soon set in upon them once again.

It takes little to convince her niece and her good-cousin to accompany her and Hal down onto the shore. Helen is quick to agree to such a journey, entirely enthralled with the sea and all the mysteries that it holds. And, wherever it was that Helen journeyed, Sansa was always quick to follow after her. It has become far more uncommon, in fact, to find Sansa away from Helen’s side. Both she and Hal find some comfort in such knowledge.

For, wherever the girls travel, their direwolves are there to go with them. Only a fool would attempt to harm the girls with such staunch protection at their sides.

No more than an hour later, Helen is skipping along the smooth flagstones of the courtyard with Sansa’s fingers wrapped securely in her hand. Rose and Dawn trot along in front of them, heads and ears high as they observe everything around them. Several steps behind the girls and their direwolves, Laira walks arm-in-arm with Hal. Her husband’s direwolf companion has positioned herself at Laira’s opposite side, having shown herself to be increasingly protective as of late. She suspects Hal’s own mood to be a contributing factor. His bond with Moone has already shown itself to be similar in nature to her own bond with Viserion.

And, as Viserion often feeds off Laira’s own emotions, she believes that her husband’s direwolf companion does quite the same where his own are concerned.

“They both seem excited,” Laira murmurs to Hal, smiling at Helen’s chattering and Sansa’s answering giggles. Her young niece has been engaged in excited conversation with her eldest cousin since learning of their excursion down to the shore.

“Neither of them have been afforded a great amount of time upon the shore or in the waters of the sea,” Hal tells her. Despite having lived for a time in White Harbor, Helen has never been able to wander about on the beach or play in the water as she has been able to during her time upon the island stronghold. The beaches at White Harbor differ vastly from Dragonstone’s own. The shoreline of much of the North, in fact, is rocky and unforgiving. Its waters are much the same, too frigid even in the heat of summer to swim about in. “However, Helen has been exposed to the water far more than Sansa,” he goes on.

His cousin had confided not so long ago, in fact, that her first time spying the sea had been when she had come to King’s Landing as a bride for Joffrey Baratheon.

Laira hums in understanding, tucking herself closer to her husband’s side as they begin their trek down the winding pathways that will take them to the shore beyond the castle. “I believe they would enjoy Lys,” she says, thinking of the last time that she had visited the Free City. “It is still warm there,” she continues. “They could swim in the water if they wished to. Or, play about on the sands and look for shells at their leisure.” The beach beyond her mother’s manse within Lys had been well guarded at one time. It would be again should Laira ever return to it.

“Perhaps we will be able to make the journey there in the near future,” Hal tells her, bringing her closer when she slips more into the length of his side. He knows that Helen would enjoy the coast of the Free City, having already shown a particular love for searching out tide pools there upon Dragonstone and observing the sea life found within them. And Sansa, he knows, would love the markets.

She smiles at such a notion, leaning until she is able to brace her head against the line of his shoulder. Another quiet hum leaves her, opposite arm reaching across her so her fingers are softly pressing against the palm of his hand. She cannot stop the whispering flutter of her heart inside her chest when his own fingers --warm and strong-- curl carefully about her hand in response. “You spoil me,” she murmurs up to him.

A smile twitches up at the corners of his mouth when he feels the press of her head against the expanse of his shoulder, grows all the larger when Laira’s fingers seek out the expanse of his own hand. “You’ve spoken fondly of Lys on more than one occasion,” Hal reminds, thumb stroking along the bumps of her knuckles. “I don’t believe it’s spoiling you to return you to a place that holds such fond memories for you.”

“No?” she questions, the word marred with a gentle laugh. “A fortunate thing for myself, then.” She pauses, watching as Helen goes dashing out onto the sand ahead of them. The young girl is giggling as she runs, her direwolf giving chase after her down the beach. Sansa follows after her, though she walks instead of runs. Laira can hear her laughing all the same. “There are other places that I am fond of as well,” Laira goes on, still watching the girls as they make their way towards the edge of the water.

The sea around Dragonstone is often colored deep azure, though the water closer to shore is often clouded with sand that is stirred up from the storms that plague the island. Today, at least, Laira can see that the shallows are clear. The water looks incredibly inviting even from where she and Hal are walking.

“What places are those?” Hal has his own thoughts about what they may be.

“White Harbor was of particular interest to me in the short time we lingered there,” she offers. It had been a mere stop in their return to King’s Landing from the War for the Dawn. Yet, the Manderlys had shown them every courtesy possible during their stay. Laira had become especially fond of Lady Wylla and Lady Wynafryd during her time in their hall. “However, WinterfelI, I believe, is the dearest of them all to me,” she carries on.

Laira imagines that he knows the reason, can see the quick flickers of realization as they slowly settle upon him.

“The war that awaited us aside,” she continues, “I was quite happy there.”

“So was I.” Even though Hal had never grown up at Winterfell, it remained familiar. He’d spent more than enough time among its walls, visiting his family with his father. Most of his childhood had been spent among the walls of Karhold. “It was likely the company that made the stay so easy, though,” he went on, smiling at the way she was looking over at him. “I left Harrion Karstark as steward before we departed back south,” Hal reminds. He and Harrion had grown up side by side at Karhold. He was practically a brother to him. There had been no one else that Hal would have trusted to guard Winterfell for Sansa. “He would welcome us back if we decided to make the journey there.”

“We could journey there first,” she offers, her voice sincere. Laira is not opposed to such travels. The more distance, in fact, their family can put between themselves and Olenna Tyrell’s plots, the better. She will not have Sansa or Helen near enough to the woman for them to be used as potential pawns.

“We’ll look to somewhere warmer first,” Hal says, looking up in time to see Dawn bounding into the shallows. Rose is at her heels, chasing after her with high pitched yips. Mere steps from where the direwolves are playing, Sansa and Helen are crouched near a cluster of rocks. Hal doesn’t need to be closer to know they’ve discovered a tide pool. “Winterfell can wait for a time.”

“If my Lord insists.” She smiles at the quick laugh that he gives, the sound partially covered by a snort.

“Will this always be a game between the two of us?” he asks her, returning her smile.

“It is a fitting one, I believe,” Laira answers. “To accompany all other manner of teasing that we engage in.”

“If memory serves, you’re the one who began our little game.” There’s a great deal of fondness in his tone, eyes glancing back to check on the girls. They’re still enthralled with their discovery at the edge of the water. Dawn and Rose are nearby as well, at play in the shallows.

Laira laughs at his accusation, her own gaze turning skyward. Though Viserion is beyond her line of sight, Laira can feel her flying high in the cloud cover. The dragoness will descend soon enough and she will find Laira when she does. No matter where she lingered, Viserion always seemed to come to her. “I regret to say that your memory is mistaken, husband,” she says, laughter still present in her tone. “You showed yourself to be quite proficient in your teasing during our time in Oldtown,” she points out. “You began our game, in fact, the very night that followed your arrival.”

By then, they have stepped farther from the edge of the water. The cliffs now loom high above them, casting dark columns of shadow out along the sand. They are still near enough to the waves, though, that Sansa and Helen are easily seen. Laira reaches to take the canvas bag that her husband has been carrying upon his opposite shoulder, having seized the bag from her as they had departed the Great Hall. He had refused to relinquish back to her as they had walked, insisting that he be the one to carry it down for them. That she had healed from her ordeal within the capital had been reminded and acknowledged, though Hal had continued to insist he carry it in her place despite such a reminder. It is endearing, in truth, how he continues even then to worry over her in such little ways.

The cooks and the maids had done as she had requested, preparing a meal for the four of them that could be easily packed away and carried down to the shore. Mira had even been kind enough to fold the pale gray blanket from Laira’s apartments and slip it into the bag with their meal. Laira had used the blanket during one of her last visits to the beach. It is the blanket that Laira withdraws from the bag, unfolding it and spreading it out over the white sand.

Moone is quick to take up a spot along the edge of the fabric, lying so that her belly is half on the fabric and half in the sand. Her head rests against the top of her large paws, mismatched eyes watching as Rose and Dawn continue their games within the water. Laira comes to sit beside the direwolf on the blanket, feet slipping out of her sandals and legs stretching until she can rest the soles of her feet atop the cool sand. Hal pauses before he moves to sit beside her, looking out to where Helen is calling excitedly for him. She is gesturing to one of the pools that she and Sansa have located, clearly overjoyed at having discovered something of interest.

“You are being beckoned,” Laira says, smiling at the way Helen now runs for them. Dawn is at the young girl’s heels, yipping after her.

“Uncle Hal!” Helen exclaims. “Sansa and I found sea stars! Come look at them! They’re so pretty!” Helen quickly turns her attention to her aunt, smiling at her. “Will you come look too, Aunt Laira?” she asks, her tone hopeful.

“Perhaps in a few moments,” Laira says. “Take your uncle with you, though. Make him entertain you.” She motions Helen closer when Hal pretends to be distracted by something. “See if you can trick him into the water,” she whispers.

The recommendation makes Helen giggle, hand pressing against her mouth to keep her uncle from hearing. Then, she makes a grab for her uncle’s hand, pulling him along with her. “Come see, Uncle Hal!”

Hal pauses long enough to look back at Laira, his expression shifting to something more serious for a split second. “Will you be alright?” he asks. Even though they are far from King’s Landing and among trusted individuals on the island, he still worries about straying too far away from her.

“I believe that I am well guarded,” she assures, hand rising to rest itself against Moone’s head. The she-wolf had made no move to follow after Hal, remaining at Laira’s side instead. “Should I need you, I will call out for you. I have faith that you will come to my aid if I require it.”

Even if Hal had been too far from her, and Moone along with him, Laira would not have worried. Not there. Though she is still hidden from view, the Queen can now feel Viserion lower among the clouds. She is near, likely flying about the Dragonmont or about the far ends of the island. The dragoness could be to her just as quickly if she found herself in need. Still, Laira has no fear of lingering on her own there upon Dragonstone’s shore. The island is safe. Of that, Laira is certain.

Laira watches as her niece leads her husband away, only the faintest hints of reluctance entering the line of his shoulders. It fades easily enough as Helen draws him away, chattering about all that she has found with Sansa. At her side, Moone settles more into her spot, body scooting itself until she is pressed along the stretch of Laira’s own legs. The direwolf’s tail beats gently against the sand when Laira reaches to press a hand to her head, happy with the attention that she’s given.

For a time, she observes her husband and their family along the sands. Hal has always shown himself to be wonderful with children. From the first moment that Missandei had met him, she’d been drawn to him. The young scribe had remained practically attached to Hal’s side in the days that had followed Daenerys’ attack within the Holdfast, seeking safety where she had known it could be found. And, even though they were both older than Missandei, Irri and Jhiqui had shown a similar draw to him as well. Laira expected girlish infatuation in place of anything else, however. Even the stableboys there upon the island and Mira’s own daughters flocked to her husband when he was near to them.

Laira quite enjoys watching such displays. Hal is always attentive, always listening and conversing with the children that seek him out. Should the gods allow it, he will make a wonderful father. She feels her heart give a brief flutter at such a thought, grief momentarily snapping within her chest. Had poison not been slipped into her cup within the Holdfast, how close would their children have been to birth by then? Three moon turns? Possibly four? It would not have been so far away. By then, Laira would have been able to feel their movements.

It has been a time since Laira has allowed her thoughts to linger upon what was stolen from her and from Hal in the capital. She does not like the pain that swells in her heart when she does… does not like the sorrow she sees reflected in Hal’s own features when she mentions it. Still, Laira cannot help but dwell upon what might have been if someone had not struck against them.

There is nothing that can be done to right the wrongs that have been done in the past, yet there is a hopeful part of her --one that is far more idyllic-- that wishes there was something that could be done. The thought is pushed away just as quickly as it comes. She knows better than to allow foolish naivety a place within her.

The shift of Moone at her side brings her thoughts back to where they should remain. Laira reaches to press her palm to the she-wolf’s head. She feels a vibration beneath the wolf’s surface when she does, a growl emanating from her throat. Moone’s head rises a moment later, emerald and sapphire gaze settling upon something down the shore. Laira’s own gaze follows the wolf’s. There is a brief flicker of crimson and darting shadow, movement that disappears behind an outcropping of rock a split second later.

For a moment, the Queen is thrown back to the night she and Hal had discovered the room within her solar. A brief flash of memory springs forward, recollection of the being that had lingered beyond the windows of her apartment. She sees the flash of shadow and then the three glowing points of crimson light glowing in the dark.

A hand against her shoulder makes her flinch, heart fluttering wildly in her chest as fear sweeps down the column of her spine. Her head snaps to her side. Sansa is standing beside her, having drawn her hand back from her. The young girl is staring down at her, her eyes wide and hand clasped to her chest.

“Sansa,” the Queen breathes, attempting to calm herself. Her heart is still thundering wildly in her chest.

“I am sorry,” Sansa speaks, her voice small. “I thought you heard me. Please forgive me.”

Reaching, Laira sets her hand upon Sansa’s arm, her touch gentle. “You startled me, sweetling,” Laira says. “Nothing more. I was merely lost in thought,” she admits. She does not turn her gaze back down the shore, though Moone continues to watch the area. “There is nothing for you to ask forgiveness for. You have done me no harm.”

Sansa nods, mouth turning up into a little smile. “May I sit with you?” she asks. “Hal and Helen are still looking in the pools.” Her cousins have wandered a little farther down the beach, Helen perched atop Hal’s shoulders as they search out the various pools and the life that resides within them.

“I would love the company,” Laira admits. She pats the spot beside her, watching as Sansa moves and sinks down onto the blanket with her. The girl’s own sandals have been cast aside, left somewhere out upon the sands closer to the water. “Are you hungry?” she asks, gesturing to the bag at her side. “Mira and the cooks were kind enough to pack a meal for us. You are welcome to anything that you wish to have.”

“Thank you.” Sansa smiles over at the Queen --her good-cousin-- and reaches into the mentioned bag.

In the top of the bag, there are sweetened biscuits with dried cranberries and orange zest as well as savory rolls with garlic, herbs, and sharp cheese wrapped in linen napkins. Below the biscuits and rolls, the cooks had packed wooden bowls wrapped in cheesecloth. In one bowl, there are pieces of thinly sliced cured ham, the very kind that the Queen enjoyed wrapped about figs with sweetened goat cheese. In the same bowl, there are slices of firm white cheese. In the second bowl, Sansa finds carrots, radishes, and sweet peppers. The last of the bowls is filled with sweet black cherries, tart green grapes, and fresh strawberries. There are glass bottles within the bag as well, each of them filled with water.

Taking a sweet biscuit for herself, Sansa breaks a bite of it off from one of the corners. It’s heavenly tasting. The pastry is flaky and sweetened perfectly. “The biscuits are delicious,” she tells her good-cousin with a smile.

“I am glad that you like them.” Laira reaches for one of the savory rolls, breaking it in half before offering part of it to Moone. A flicker of concern slips through Laira when the direwolf does not immediately take the offering from her. Moone frequently begged her for food whenever she and Hal ate, never once refusing anything that Laira offered to her. Only a moment later, Moone stretches her head forward and gingerly takes the roll from Laira’s fingers. Her attention is turning back down the coast only a second later, focus back on the outcropping of rock along the cliffs.

Laira looks back at the area, though she cannot see anything that concerns her. The dart of crimson and shadow had likely been nothing more than her eyes playing tricks upon her. All the same, Moone’s continued focus makes her uneasy.

“Hal says that we may travel to Lys for a time,” Sansa says, taking another bite of her biscuit. “He says that it is warm there… that you have a manse within the Free City where we could stay.”

“The manse belonged to my mother,” Laira explains. “It has been held by members of our family since the dragonlords of the Old Empire reigned.”

Sansa hesitates, nibbling another bite from her biscuit. “Would we be safe there?” she asks, glancing down the beach where Hal and Helen are still walking. She does not believe that Hal will venture anywhere with them that will not be safe.

“We would ensure that you and Helen remained well protected, sweetling,” Laira murmurs, her own gaze following Sansa’s.

“I hadn’t felt safe in a long time… not until I was reunited with Hal,” Sansa admits. For so long, she’d been a caged bird… a little dove in a gilded cage. “But then…” she trails off, her eyes beginning to tear up at their edges. “Lady Olenna cannot force me to marry Lord Tyrell, can she?” Sansa questions, her voice breaking.

When Sansa had first been offered the opportunity to marry Willas, she’d thought the chance to be her only way to freedom. That had been before Queen Daenerys had helped orchestrate the plan that had stolen her away from the Lannisters. That had been before she had been reunited with Hal. All Sansa wanted now was to be with her family. She did not want to be Lady of Highgarden. She did not want to marry a man twice her age who knew nothing about her.

“What Lady Olenna attempted was treason, sweetling,” Laira murmurs. The roll in her hand is largely forgotten. She extends it out to Moone, watching the direwolf take the second half with no hesitation. She seems more at ease now, her head resting heavily against Laira’s knees. “She had no right to attempt to force you into a marriage with Lord Tyrell. She had no right to attempt to force Helen into a marriage with Lord Redwyne’s son.”

To do so while Hal had been occupied in the Stormlands and Laira had been away upon Dragonstone had been all the more underhanded.

“You needn’t worry over such a thing any longer,” Laira continues, her voice gentle. “You will not marry anyone that you do not wish to. Neither will Helen. Do you understand?”

Sansa nods as the Queen speaks, reaching to dab away the tears in her eyes. “Promise?” Sansa whispers, her voice breaking again.

“I swear to you, sweetling,” Laira murmurs, reaching to press her hand down atop Sansa’s. “If anyone attempts to force you or Helen into another marriage, they shall answer to me and they shall answer to your cousin.”

Let Lady Olenna or any other attempt such a thing with her family once again. They would have her wrath in answer to it.

Dabbing at her eyes again, Sansa sniffles and picks a dried cranberry from her biscuit. “I have always wanted to marry someone for love.” Sansa has always wished for a life and a love like those within a song. “Mother always said that love could come after… that love did not necessarily come before a marriage.” Her mother had been fortunate in her marriage, had been fortunate to have loved her father and that he had loved her in return. Sansa knew such things did not always occur. “I wish…” she trails off, considering her next words carefully.

Hal is Winterfell’s heir by Westerosi inheritance law. He has no intention to keep the Northern seat, though. He has already told Sansa as much. He will act as her regent until she is of age. Then, Winterfell will pass into her governance. It was such power that others would always see. They would see a hold on the North through her. They would see her as nothing more than a puppet to be flitted about on strings. “I wish the world would allow for someone to love me for me and not for my family’s seat,” Sansa finally admits. “I do not think that such a thing will ever be possible, though.���

The Lords of Westeros would forever look to their daughters and see tools to gain power.

“Perhaps the world is in need of change.”

Both Laira and Sansa glance up, finding Hal now standing beside their blanket. Helen is still atop his shoulders, looking down at them with a quiet little smile.

“I think that’s what Queen Daenerys intends to do,” Hal goes on, lifting Helen off his shoulders. He sets her back on her own feet, giving her a moment to become steady before he lets her go. She immediately goes to Sansa’s side, squeezing herself between her cousin and her aunt. When Sansa offers her a biscuit from the canvas bag, she eagerly takes it.

“Your cousin is right,” Laira says, smiling when Hal leans to press a kiss against the top of her head. “Daenerys wishes to build a world where little girls are no longer used as collateral to secure power.”

Laira can only hope that she succeeds in such an endeavor. The Lords of Westeros would not be so easily swayed.

The rest of their day upon the shore is without incident. Sansa and Helen linger with Laira and Hal long enough to eat a few treats from their lunch before dashing back out to play along the sand and in the shallows. The trek back up to the castle is as light as their trek down to the beach had been earlier in the day. The girls giggle back and forth between themselves, trading stories and showing one another shells that they have gathered throughout the day.

With sunset still some time away, Hal asks the stableboys to fill one of the large water basins within the gardens with fresh water. All three direwolves are damp from the sea and matted with sand from their playing. Even Moone, who had spent most of her time lingering at Laira’s side, had taken a run into the shallows not long before they departed. They will all need to be bathed and rinsed before entering the castle again.

The girls stay behind to help, Helen already starting to pour clean water over Dawn’s back as Laira walks the steps up into the Great Hall. The direwolf sits without a fuss, letting Helen do as she wishes.

It is cool inside the castle. The torches along the walls have been lit in preparation for night. As Laira walks, she can hear the chattering of the maids and the cooks within the kitchens, all of them going about their tasks. It’s a comforting sound, she realizes. Everyone within the castle seems utterly content. It’s a stark change from the Red Keep… from the attendants that had been present within the palace when Daenerys had taken the city. She lingers for a moment, poking her head into the busy space to check on all those within.

Mira gives her a smile when she sees her, seated at a small table with her daughters and her mother. Ser Aeron is seated across from Mira and her family, talking and laughing with her maid’s little girls. Celesse is pouring a splash of cream into a bowl across the kitchen. She brings it back to Ser Aeron, setting it down in front of the man with a kind hand against his shoulder. The master-at-arms smiles at her, thanking her before taking a bite of what Laira believes to be peach cake. The cooks had received fresh peaches just a few days ago and had been using them frequently in sweets and salads.

“Did you and your family enjoy your day, Your Grace?” Mira calls, standing from the table. She carries a tray in her hands as she does, moving so she can deposit them in the sinks across the kitchen.

“We did,” Laira assures. “Perhaps your little ones could accompany us the next time that we venture to the shore.” She smiles when she notices the way Mira’s daughters brighten. She doubts they have ever been extended such an invitation before. “Sansa and Helen would no doubt love to have playmates closer to their own ages.”

“That is very kind of you, Your Grace,” Mira answers, smiling over at her daughters. “I am sure they would enjoy such a thing very much.”

Laira looks to Ser Aeron then. “Be sure that the stableboys eat as well, Ser Aeron,” she tells him. “They were kind enough to help my husband with an endeavor with the wolves,” she says. “Be sure that they both take food home for their families. And you as well.”

“I’ll fetch them myself, Your Grace,” Ser Aeron answers, spearing another piece of peach cake with his fork. “Thank you.”

Laira leaves them only a few moments later, pausing to be certain that Celesse and the cooks have enough to eat and enough to carry food back to their families. When Laira enters the hallway that houses her and Hal’s apartments, she pauses at its end. The doors to her rooms are ajar and there is a shadow moving within the space. Her husband and her family are still down within the gardens, tending the wolves, she knows. And her attendants are within the Great Hall, milling about in the kitchens.

She hesitates only a moment before she is moving, feet quiet against the dark stone. Glancing around the doors into her apartments, Laira finds the space empty. Across the living space, the doors to her solar are thrown open. There is a fire burning within the hearth. Another shadow flickers along the wall within the small space.

Dark Sister is still propped at the end of her bed, resting against the onyx colored chaise. She moves without a second thought, hand wrapping about the grip. The Valyrian blade is pulled from its scabbard as she crosses the room, the steel gleaming in the faint firelight. There is a feminine figure standing before the hearth when she steps into the solar. Clad in all crimson, dark hair spills down the other’s back. The design upon the woman’s crimson robes identifies her before anything else can.

A Red Priestess. A servant of the Red God, R’hllor.

The priestess’ head tilts slightly. Laira can see the quirk of the woman’s mouth from where she stands. “Daughter of Death,” the woman speaks, the words flowing off her tongue in the language of the Old Empire. “We have much to discuss.”

{ @truetargaryen & @fullrangeofemotions & @thequeenmaker & @xcoatlicuex & @hisvipereyes & @viperparamour & @nolongerhispawn & @shewhoisironborn & @adornishviper & @anunfailingkindness & @ialwayswasthebest & @iveneverbeenagoodgirl & @aladyofwinterfell & @therosesofhighgarden & @arisiarrxb & @alionessroars & @zaldrizo & @fairytalesandstars & @queeniolande & @yrracynrxl & @scaleddoe & @scraniknatu }

[ragingbookdragon]

To Be Human--To Be Alive

Hal Jordan x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.5 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Death, Angst

Author's Note: I've been listening to Calum Scott's "Biblical" on repeat since it came out and I thought about this. Enjoy! -Thorne

********************************************************************************

Hal Jordan was no stranger to pain. He’d felt it all: emotional, psychological, physical, mental, the list goes on and on, up and down, left and right, every which way until the end of time. That being said, he still wasn’t used to being thrown into concrete walls by meta-humans who had strength equivalent to Superman’s.

He rolled onto his side, feeling his broken ribs shift beneath his skin, and groaned, trying to find the will in him to get to his feet. All he had the strength to do was look over at Barry who was busy getting his own ass handed to him by another meta-human who seemed overly fond of freezing his feet.

A sinister laugh came from above him and Hal turned his head, eyes widening as he saw the meta-human standing before him a slab of concrete raised in his hands.

“Oh fu—”

He saw it before he heard it. The meta-human’s head intact one second and exploding into a hundred shards of brain matter and bone, some of it splattering across Hal’s suit and face. The concrete slab fell behind the meta-human and then he went to his knees, body pitching forward to land beside Hal’s feet.

The echo of the gunshot was enough to gather the other’s attention and her eyes had barely widened before another shot echoed across the street and her head exploded too, body falling beside Barry.

The two superheroes scrambled to their feet, and Hal was already forgetting about his broken ribs, willing constructs to life in order to provide protection for him and his best friend. Whoever killed the two enemies wasn’t firing anymore, but Hal wasn’t going to take any chances.

Green Lantern. Flash. Come in.

Barry skidded a stop beside Hal who shifted his hand, making the constructs combine into one giant wall; he put his free hand to his ear. “We’re here, Batman.”

What just happened? The life signs of your targets just went offline.

Hal looked to his friend whose blue eyes were wide, equally shocked about the turn of events. “Uh…about that…”

What happened?

“Batman, we’ve got a sniper somewhere in the range of our local. Took down both meta-humans within seconds of each other.”

Deceased?

Hal glanced behind him at the freezing meta-human’s corpse, a giant pool of blood growing from the spurting arteries. “Well, they don’t have heads anymore, so, yeah. They’re deceased.”

Understood. Superman’s coming in for protection.

The line clicked and Barry looked at Hal. “I think we should move. If that sniper’s still in the area, we shouldn’t be hanging around waiting to find out.”

Hal let the speedster pick him up, speeding down an alley away from the street so they’d be out of the line of sight. “What type of gun do you think they used?”

Barry shrugged, setting Hal down. “I don’t know. Normal rifles don’t do that much damage, even from that distance.” He didn’t even want to look out the alley way. “That had to be a high caliber rifle.”

“You think they’re a friendly?”

“Hal, they just blew off two people’s heads. That doesn’t seem friendly to me.”

He shrugged. “Well yeah, but they didn’t blow our heads off so…” he tipped his head side to side. “Seems like they were helping.”

Barry glowered at him. “Blowing people’s heads off isn’t helping superheroes. It’s vigilantism gone dark.”

“Sheesh, you sound like Spooky with that attitude.” Hal griped, turning with a new construct when a flash of red appeared in their visions. He lowered it when he realized it was Superman. “Supes!”

“Are you two okay?” Superman asked.

“We’re fine,” Barry replied. “The bullets came from the right. If I had to take a guess, it would’ve been the parking garage in the distance.”

Clark shook his head. “I checked. There were no signs of scuffing from a gun stand, or GSR around the area.”

“So, where’d they fire from?” Hal questioned and Clark nodded towards the street.

“Somewhere farther than just this street.” He glanced at them. “Whoever it was is gone now. C’mon, Batman’s getting a statement ready for the local PD.” He flew off, leaving Hal and Barry standing beside one another, more confused than anything.

***

Calling in late to work had never been Hal’s thing. Honestly, as lazy as he was sometimes, he loved his job. Loved the thrill of getting up in the air, loved feeling the shock sending him into his seat as he broke the sound barriers in the sky. Scrounging around parking garages and abandoned buildings for a ghost-shooter wasn’t his idea of a good day.

So far, he’d searched at least three abandoned buildings in the area, each coming up empty, and the last one showed the exact same signs. He sighed, letting the construct fade. Even the ring couldn’t make heads or tails with any of the evidence around him. Whoever their shooter was, was practically a specter. Hal had no idea how someone managed to shoot two meta-humans down that fast and then leave just as quickly, escaping both Barry and Clark’s abilities.

Hal had seen people killed before. Had even done the same a few times, even up in the air on combat missions and in his suit when he had no other choice. But seeing someone’s head burst like a watermelon hitting concrete right in front of his very eyes was something completely different. A different level of fear that there was someone out there ready to do the same to him, and all it would’ve taken was a random whim and a finger pulling a trigger. But it was like he told Barry—whoever their shooter was, wasn’t shooting to kill them, they were helping.

He drew his eyes along the wall of the empty room, finally resigning himself to the fact that he wasn’t going to find whoever it was that had helped them; with that, he sighed, letting his shoulders droop—he was going to lose fifty bucks to Barry because of this.

“Giving up so soon?” Hal spun around, coffee eyes wide as he scanned the room around him. “I’m surprised Green Lantern showed up. I was expecting Superman or Batman.”

“Who said that?” he questioned, spinning in a circle.

“Who or what?”

“What?”

“Who.”

Hal growled. “Quit screwing with me.” Apparently, they already knew who he was, and he let the green suit flash to life. “Show yourself.”

“Why should I?” they asked in return. “I saved your life.”

“You blew off two people’s heads.” He retorted.

“Should I have let the metas crush you and freeze off Flash’s legs? And here I thought you wanted to live and let your best friend be safe.”

“Killing people isn’t always the answer.” Hal said, turning around again and then he saw it, the glimmer of what looked like a tactical cloak. He pointed to the corner of the room and let a construct come alive. “Show yourself.”

The glimmer appeared again, and then something booted down and he watched as the tactical cloak faded, leaving a woman in its place, sitting up against the wall, one leg stretched out, the other pulled up near her chest, her elbow resting on her knee—and a big sniper rifle was resting against her chest, barrel pointing up towards the ceiling.

She was decked out in some kind of cyber armor that Hal could only describe as futuristic, solid black with purple electric currents running through the slots where the plates of her gear met, mainly down her shoulders and arms, and down the sides of her chest to her ribs to her feet.

“What’re you doing here, Green Lantern?” she inquired, the mask she wore muffling her voice enough that it wouldn’t give identification; her visor was darkened too. “Shouldn’t you be in the air, flyboy?”

Hal tipped his head curiously. “You know who I am?”

She nodded. “I do. And who Batman and your friends are.”

“How?” Batman’s identity was practically unidentifiable unless he told someone.

“Government databases as well as a hacked encryption into the Justice League computers.” She seemed awfully nonchalant as she shifted and rose to her feet, slinging the rifle to her backs. Even when Hal aimed the construct at her, she didn’t seem phased. “Why are you here?”

He blinked. “I wanted to find you.”

“What for?”

“Well…I’ve got a bet riding on finding you, but I also wanted to see where you’d shot from.”

She eyed him momentarily then gestured him over to the window; he stood beside her, and she pointed down the street. “I shot from here.”

Hal’s eyes almost bulged out of his head—he couldn’t even see the street they’d been on. “That’s gotta be at least eighteen hundred meters. Maybe farther.”

“Fifty caliber rifles are built for long range.” She merely replied. “I heard the commotion when the JL got into the city. Then I heard you and Bartholomew Allen getting beat down and decided to level the playing field.”

“How’d you hear commotion that far away?” he asked, and she tapped the side of her head.

“I’ve got enhanced senses. But the detection cameras around the city help too.”

Hal looked at her, watching as her eyes were darting around the street, like she was trying to work a strategy in her head; it reminded him of Barry. “Are you some kind of super soldier?”

She nodded. “I was. Designation Spectre.” Her head turned and she met his eyes. “I was created for covert military operations.”

“You mean assassinations?” he mused, and she nodded.

“Amongst other things, yes.”

“So, if you’re a military toy, why are you here?”

Something shifted in the air and Hal shivered. “Because when they cut the operation, they started hunting down all the soldiers. I went AWOL before they got to me.”

“You’re on the run?” Hal was sympathetic to her, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “I can help you. Come to the Watchtower with me and we’ll see about setting you up with us.”

Her head turned again, this time staring at the hand gripping her shoulder; he didn’t seem to get the hint because he squeezed her arm. “You mean come to the government regulated superhero operation? That one?”

He winced. “Okay, maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing I could’ve said.” He pulled away. “But we can protect you. Or at least get you to safety away from any enemies.”

She grunted quietly. “There’s a lot of enemies after the bounty on my head.”

“How many?”

“Well, Deathstroke’s been a recurring figure.” She rolled her shoulder and turned around, walking away from the window. “He’s more annoying than dangerous. Like a brown recluse infestation that you just can’t kill.”

“Do you want to come with me though? I can take you directly to the Watchtower and call Batman.”

“I don’t think someone like Batman is going to like someone like me coming into his territory.”

Hal made a face. “Excuse you, the Watchtower is our territory.”

“Yeah, everyone but Wonder Woman is Batman’s bitch.” She bemused. “You just think the place is for everyone.”

“Still waiting on a yes or no.” Hal griped.

“I’m thinking it over.” Then she fell silent for a few moments; she hummed and looked at him. “Alright I’ll go with you.”

Hal cocked a brow. “It took you that long to think about it?”

She scoffed and led him from the room. “Don’t be ridiculous, my mind moves at a speed similar to Bartholomew Allen’s or Bruce Wayne’s.” She glanced at him. “I was looking over the watchtower floor plans in case you decided to collect my bounty and I needed to escape.”

He merely blinked at her and formed a construct outside the building, watching as she climbed in. “Something tells me you’re going to be a handful.”

“Well, I can tell you like having your hands full, Hal Jordan.”

Hal chuckled. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

***Months Later***

Oddly enough to Hal’s surprise, (Y/N) fit right in with the League. She and Barry could talk about forensic science for hours, going into their own little world that only batman knew anything about, and occasionally, the Big Bat himself would involve himself in their discussions. It was the one time Hal thought that Batman was enjoying himself. Of course, Batman also seemed to enjoy training with her.

They’d go for hours on the mat, switching through different forms of martial arts, and Hal and the others kept a betting ring on who would win each match because for all the greatness Bruce Wayne was as Batman, (Y/N) seemed to be the only person who could match him blow for blow and still win sometimes.

Diana loved her, or so she loved the idea that (Y/N) didn’t back down from fights or simply let enemies off the hook. And he understood from listening and learning, that (Y/N) enjoyed Greek literature and culture, prompting the two women to delve into deep conversations over history and stories.

Everyone loved (Y/N). She was like Bruce if he were lethal and was kind. And Hal? Hal wanted nothing more than to take her to dinner, but surprisingly, (Y/N) was either extremely dense or she just didn’t want to date anybody because every time Hal asked her out, she had an excuse. And while Hal backed off when a woman said no, she’d not said no yet, so he was merely wondering if she was waiting it out—something he was going to find out, come hell or high water.

***

He watched as she held the soldering iron in one hand and held up the gauntlet in the other, examining her work before deciding it was decent enough to call it a day. Setting both the armor and the tool down, she stood from her seat and stretched, rolling her muscles, and popping her joints. She didn’t like to be still for long periods of time unless she was doing something, like sitting in a sniper nest or enhancing equipment; he’d learned that the hard way after they were set on global patrol in the Watchtower one night.

“Do you want something?” she asked, not looking at him as she gathered her armor together.

Hal chuckled, walking over to lean against the table. “A few things.”

“Gonna ask me out again?” (Y/N) questioned, putting the gear into a footlocker.

“Finally gonna say no?” he responded, and she stood up, meeting his gaze.

“Do you want a no?”

Hal shrugged. “It’d be easier than having to come up with another excuse for asking you out.”

(Y/N) hummed, walking past him and he followed her as she wandered through the hall of the Watchtower. “So far you’ve asked me out twenty-one times.”

“I’m tempted to make twenty-two, if you’ll say yes.”

She paused and turned on him, giving him an odd look. “Why do you want to go out with me? Aren’t you worried about fraternization?”

“Fraternization is only regulated in the military,” Hal shrugged off. “We’re no longer in the force.”

“That only answered part of the questions.”

Hal reached out, thumbing a smudge of oil off her face. “I’m interested in you.”

“That’s it?” (Y/N) inquired. “You’re interested in me and that’s why you won’t quit asking me out on dates?”

“You’re smokin’ hot?” he offered with a snarky grin, and she rolled her eyes, turning around.

“Every day I’m reminded of why you’re such a skirt-chaser.”

As she walked off, he hurried behind her and grabbed her upper arm. “(Y/N), wait.” She paused and he pulled her around. “Go out with me tonight.”

“Are you asking or telling?” she challenged. “Because the latter isn’t going to fly with me.”

Hal snorted. “It’s a bit of both.” When she cocked a brow, he added, “Go out with me tonight, and if you don’t have a good time, we’ll never talk about it again and I’ll stop asking.”

(Y/N) regarded him a moment. “Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

She pulled her arm from his grip and spit into her hand holding it out to him. “Shake on it, flyboy.”

Hal pulled a face and grabbed her hand, shaking it firmly, and when (Y/N) pulled back and stalked off, he grimaced and wiped his hand down his pants—but he was happy she finally agreed.

***

“It’s been a long time since I had good Cuban food,” she murmured, glancing towards the stars in the sky. “I’d forgotten how good it was.”

Hal looked over at her, folding his hands in his lap. “Before or after the program?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Before…I grew up in an old neighborhood in the suburbs of Jacksonville…there was a Cuban restaurant down the street from my house and we used to go there all the time for dinner.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“My family.”

Something in her tone seemed bitter, but also disheartened and lamenting. “Have you seen them since you came back?”

(Y/N) looked away and muttered darkly, “The government executed them when they couldn’t bring me in.” Her lips pulled down. “I heard that none of my family gave into their demands…they were loyal to me until the end.”

Hal felt his heart sink in his chest. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). That’s horrible.”

She shrugged. “I killed the squad that attacked them…I got my revenge.” Her eyes found his as she looked back over. “What about you? Is your family still around?”

He found it hard to believe she didn’t know even though she knew everyone before she joined. “You don’t know my history?”

“I only know your name,” she responded. “And what little you’ve shared. Well…little is for Batman, you share an awful amount of yourself with everyone.”

Hal snorted and nudged her in the ribs. “Hey, just tryin’ to be friendly.” She smiled, waiting for him to speak, and when he did, his voice was just as sad as hers was. “I have a big family. Me, my siblings, my mom, everyone else.”

“No dad?” (Y/N) questioned and he looked at his hands.

“My dad died in a plane crash when I was a kid.” He sighed. “I witnessed it.”

“That’s…I’m sorry.”

“I swore I’d never bow down to my fears and when I turned eighteen, I joined the Air Force and followed in dad’s footsteps.” He huffed a breath. “I still get terrified when I fly…always have…but I do it to honor him.” Hal swallowed thickly, feeling warmth in his eyes. “I’ve always wanted to be someone that would’ve made proud.”

A hand touched his and he looked down at it, then to her, eyes widening when he saw tears silently running down her cheeks. “I’m sure your father is looking down on you with pride wherever he is, Hal.”

He couldn’t help but reach over with his free hand. “You’re crying?”

(Y/N) nodded. “Your story is…heart wrenching.” She leaned into his palm. “I feel your pain.”

“I—I can’t believe you’re crying for me though…no one’s ever done that.”

She reached up and wiped a tear that had fallen form his eye; he hadn’t realized it did. “You can cry too, Hal.” (Y/N) smiled sadly. “We might be strong…but we’re still human.” She reached up with her free hand and pulled his hand down from her face, squeezing it in hers. “Cry if you want to, Hal. I won’t judge you if you do.”

Hal didn’t want to cry. Not in front of her at least and he squeezed his eyes shut to keep them at bay. “It’s not manly to cry in front of a woman.”

“Everyone cries, Hal, even men.” (Y/N) leaned forward and took his face in her hands, pressing her forehead to hers. “You are allowed to feel.” He gazed into her eyes, this time not stopping the tears as they gathered in his; she smiled. “Fall to pieces, Hal…I’ll put them all back together.”

“Yeah?” he breathed tearfully, and she nodded, pressing her lips to his.

“Promise.”

Hal pulled from her grip and buried his face in her strong shoulder, and soon his body was shaking with sobs. And (Y/N) merely wrapped her arms around him.

“Let it go, Hal. Fall to pieces, darling.” She whispered, pressing kisses to his skin. “I’ll pick it all up.”

He kept apologizing, “I’m sorry’s” rolling off his tongue with each cry and she merely shook her head.

“Don’t be sorry, darling.” (Y/N) replied, turning her face to his cheek, pressing her lips to his skin. “Be human…be alive, Hal.”

His grip only tightened on her, and he shifted his face so he could see her, and he stared into her eyes, his own big, brown ones saddened, but full of heart and emotion. She threaded her fingers in his hair and smoothed it with gentle stokes and caresses.

He sniffed strongly and croaked, “The next time we go out, can we forgo the emotional moment?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and kissed him. “Sure, Hal.”

[secret-engima]

Sloppy Unedited gift for SparkleCryptid

(So the last Aeon chapter broke my Feels so obviously I HAD to do an angsty fusion piece with my Corling Frisk. Obviously. There’s a humorous Omake at the end to make up for it tho? @sparklecryptid  I hope you like it!

...

-Frisk falls back into his … original world when he’s 15. It’s his choice to leave. His choice to make the leap rather than let himself be used as a reset. He won’t let it happen. His family has their happy ending, a REAL happy ending, where everyone is alive and Asriel is whole and and HAPPY and not trapped as a flower like he nearly was. Frisk will not let his ability be what ruins that for them.

-And so Frisk jumps and falls.

-He wakes up in a strange world where there are no sentient Monsters, where there are only humans and the night-creeping daemons that have no Souls, no Hearts … nothing. They are empty. They are terrifying.

-It’s hard, being a blind teen in a strange world.

-It gets both harder and easier when, in the middle of stumbling his way through the wilds, his body shakes and sweats and all his senses Wake Up until it physically hurts. Until he can hear the heartbeat of wildlife what feels like half a mile away and feel the whisper of the air on his skin like a knife blade.

-How he survives what he will later learn is called Presenting, out there in he wilds he will never know.

-But he does. He picks himself up and survives. He finds odd jobs in little places that take pity on a blind teenager —Omega Sentinel, they whisper, and Frisk does not know what it means but it makes them treat him kindly and so he accepts it for now—.

-But Frisk never stays in one place for long, he doesn’t like it, but if he stays for too long, people ask Questions that he cannot answer. So he leaves before they can.

-He should have stayed put.

-He finds the Tempering Grounds by accident, drawn there by the voices of the ghosts, the lingering whispers of energy and Soul that reminds him almost- ALMOST of monster kind.

-He realizes too late that this place is the rare place with an automatic save point that overrides his last one only once he’s deep inside the Grounds, leaving him without an easy way out.

-Gilgamesh finds him moments after that.

-And Frisk is a Pacifist, but he does not want to die, he’s died too many times already since falling into the Underground, and then coming here, so when Gilgamesh attacks, Frisk fights back. He fights defensively, but viciously, and his magic gives Gilgamesh pause. Frisk flinched when metal fingers grip his chin too tight and a cold, hollow voice orders him to open his blind eyes.

-Frisk doesn’t know it, but his eyes are distinctive.

-Gilgamesh has only seen one person with that shade of blue before, and with talent so bright that this blind, untrained Sentinel child can survive him for even a few moments, let alone as long as Frisk has.

-Gilgamesh knocks Frisk out and drags him deep into the grounds.

-Frisk is only 16 years old.

-He doesn’t know how long he spends there, fighting, learning, scrabbling to survive when Gilgamesh keeps trying to push him into fighting to kill and Frisk refuses to do so. He dies three times before he learns it’s better to take his beating and crawl to the garden to recuperate rather than try to escape. The save point is too close to where Gilgamesh finds him, and he is so very tired of fighting Gilgamesh and praying he takes an interest in Frisk again rather than slipping past his guard and killing him, forcing another reset to that blasted save point.

-Frisk doesn’t know how long he spends in that place with the things that are like Souls but Not. But eventually … he is no longer along.

-He hears Gilgamesh return from the entrance, can tell by the shift of fabric and flesh and the heartbeat thrumming to his constantly enhanced hearing (a necessity around Gilgamesh, who takes no pity for the headaches learning to control his “Sentinel senses” causes, who’s only mercy is to let Frisk writhe on the ground in a zone-out without stabbing him until Frisk can drag his senses under control and use them to compensate for his blindness) that Gilgamesh does not return alone. Gilgamesh flops the unconscious body Frisk will soon learn is the boy named Aeon, and coldly tells him that this is his brother and they will both be trained.

-And Frisk is no longer alone.

-For Aeon’s sake, Frisk wishes he still was.

-And Aeon is not like Frisk. Aeon is quiet and cold and predatory, all raw edges and anger that Frisk remembers too well and refuses to bend to again. Aeon takes to Gilgamesh’s training like a fish to water, even when the water is poison and makes him scream.

-Aeon tries to stay away from Frisk at first, but Gilgamesh is a brutal master and survival is hard enough without trying to remain aloof. He throws them into joint training, forces Aeon to guard Frisk when he loses control and falls into a zone-out, forces Frisk to use magic to defend Aeon while Aeon shudders on the floor from the breaking of a forced Bond.

-When survival is on the line, it is impossible not to become close. When the only other living being there is in the same boat as you, it becomes impossible not to trust. Despite their vastly different personalities, despite how Gilgamesh learns to hurt Aeon to try (and fail) to force Frisk to fight to the death, despite how Gilgamesh starts to punish Frisk every time Aeon does not “live up to his potential” … they trust each other. Wholly, Utterly. They do not agree on everything (Aeon does not understand why Frisk has so much magic yet will not kill, Frisk does not understand why Aeon is so stubborn he will not run away while Frisk covers for him, because he would if Aeon would just agree to leave him behind) but they are all the other has. And so there is trust.

-(And if at night Frisk curls around his younger, littler brother and whispers stories of the Underground, of Mercy and Resets and Souls, if Frisk tells Aeon the secret of the Dust on his hands and how if he starts killing again he won’t be able to stop, if one day Aeon sees Frisk anger Gilgamesh too far and screams as the armored ghost snap Frisk’s neck, only for the world to shiver and reset to just before that disastrous spar gone wrong because Frisk has chosen to lock himself deeper in the Tempering Ground with save points to keep from leaving Aeon alone… well.)

-(Aeon may not understand where his older brother is coming from, or why he choses a cycle of death over landing a killing blow himself, Aeon believes. In the Underground, in the Save Points, in Frisk’s genuine inability to kill being something other than cowardice or lack of skill. He does not understand, but this is Frisk. There is no one else in the world he would believe more at this point. He can’t afford anything else)

-Together they spend a long time in the Tempering Grounds, scrounging for food in the garden, whispering stories to each other of their respective pasts and the different Outsides they grew up knowing. Gilgamesh tries to mold them into perfect weapons, torments one when the other will not break, batters both when they do not yield, and in the process forges the two into a conjoined pair. A set of tools that any warrior craves. Because Aeon is a sword, sharp and unyielding and deadly. And Frisk still will not kill, but his magic is fast and strong and unyielding as a finely crafted shield.

-It is Frisk’s magic that buys Aeon a moment to get under Gilgamesh’s guard and draw blood.

-Gilgamesh laughs as he lets them go.

-Frisk shivers under the touch of sunlight and fresh air, cannot even bring himself to care about the stranger who makes interested noises at finding two feral children rather than the one he threw into the Grounds (Frisk still watches, still tracks with ears and nose to make sure the man does not get too close to Aeon).

-They wander. It never occurs to them to separate. Somewhere amid the hunts that they both take (Frisk will not kill, but he is not afraid to flip grand horns onto their backs to keep Aeon safe, and Aeon no longer questions why he is always the one to land the killing blow), Aeon Presents. Frisk mutters curses the entire way back.

-Dave the Hunter teaches Aeon how to Shield and it’s clear from the other lessons he throws in that he expects the two of them to bond. Apparently that’s the norm for Sentinels and Guides that are as conjoined at the hip as Aeon and Frisk.

-They don’t bond. A bond is not a gift to them. It is a chain. It is the pain and freezing cold that bites Aeon’s soul, and the agony of being pinned down by a metal foot and forced to listen as another screams. So they don’t bond. Frisk will not ask that of Aeon, and Aeon will not offer.

-Aeon does, however, reach out and wrap his newfound shields around Frisk’s mind when the world becomes too much, and the iron control that keeps him balanced on a knife’s edge of “seeing” the world through enhanced senses and losing himself to a zone-out slips and he falls into the white hot jumble of too much world-sound-smell-life. Aeon’s touch is rough when he pulls Frisk back and wraps shields around his mind, but that’s alright. Frisk trusts him. Frisk knows him.

-It’s not his old home. It’s not the family he misses so deeply, but it’s … well enough he supposes. It could be worse.

-They overhear talk of the prince, and Frisk does not flinch as his younger brother carves a bloody path to the back of the truck.

-Aeon growls when Frisk agrees unthinkingly to walk the prince back to Hammerhead … or until the Crownsguard find them.

-When Cor spots Noctis, the little prince is leading not one, but two bedraggled boys, one in each hand, and something in Cor screams when he sees Aeon’s face and blue eye. The other boy is a mystery for a moment, but then he shakes his shaggy brown bangs out of his eyes and Cor sees that specific shade of ice blue, sharp against Frisk’s naturally darker skin.

-Aeon goes down to the sniper, and before the Crownsguard have even reached the halfway mark to him, Frisk’s magic is there as he screams. Blue bones of magic erupt from the ground, cracking ribs and pinning the enemy down in a strangle-hold JUST shy of being fatal while Frisk presses his hands against the bloody wound and wails like a wild thing.

-Cor ends up knocking Frisk out, it’s the only way to let anyone even reach Aeon to give him medical care, because while even in his panic Frisk will not kill, that does not stop him from summoning Gaster Blasters to threaten all who come too close.

-The brothers wake up in Insomnia. Cor convinces Aeon to stay, and where Aeon goes, Frisk goes.

-Cor is Very Unhappy about the state of both his newly discovered sons. One a feral weapon with scars, the other a blind boy with even more scars and magic unlike anything they’ve ever seen (it’s not Lucis Caelum or Oracle magic, Regis is certain, but what option that leaves … they do not know).

-Frisk is … just wondering if maybe this place will be okay, if these people who treat them with kindness will be alright, when the snap bond happens between Aeon and Gladio. All thoughts of how they are a bit like the Monsters of his home get thrown out the window when he hears Aeon’s wail and feels the emotions that erupt. He knows that reaction, he knows what it means.

-Frisk is not a violent person by nature, but his sole understanding of bonds comes from listening to Gilgamesh force and break one in Aeon over and over and over (Frisk only spared because he is a Sentinel and no bond can be formed between two Sentinels as far as I know?). As far as he knows, a bond is a weapon, a chain meant to break people and this stranger has just attacked Aeon.

-It’s instinct to lash out, to slam down a wall of bones around Aeon while Aeon tries to finish the problem, and it’s a Very Good Thing Cor is as good as he is (and had backup), otherwise Gladio might have gotten seriously hurt.

-Frisk makes no sound as Aeon starts to break and cry, just huddles in a corner and shakes silently. He has to stay calm, he has to stay focused, this is Aeon’s pain, not Frisk’s, so Frisk has no right to cry too. He doesn’t. He has to stay strong. He is the Shield and Aeon is the Sword and Frisk needs to protect.

-But how can he protect against something he cannot touch?

-How can he protect against scars already there?

-Later on, Aeon passes out and Frisk flinches from Cor’s hesitant touch. His skin is burning with sensation, he’s maybe an inch away from a very bad zone-out, but he holds on, because these people are Not Safe and Aeon is unconscious. Aeon needs him. So Frisk huddles by the bed and sets his sightless eyes on the wall and stretches his senses out to keep watch as Cor fidgets and hesitantly asks questions only to give up and leave after Frisk’s prolonged silence.

-It’s only when it’s just him and Aeon, when he knows there’s only one other person nearby (in the next room, with clothes that sound like a uniform and scent that reeks of frustration and rage even though it’s restrained, not Cor, but that glaive who was there when he and Aeon first woke up and needed to find Aeon’s beads), that he lets himself whisper, “I want to go home.”

-There is no answer.

-But he knew that already.

-Frisk buries his face in his knees and focuses on breathing. Things will get better, he tells himself. Things have to get better. Even in the darkest hour in Gilgamesh’s clutches, even back when he was a tiny child and was told that it was Kill or Be Killed, he had hope. The only time he didn’t have hope was when he was on the Genocide Run, and he is never going to slide that far again. He and Aeon will find a way to fix this.

-He just has to stay Determined.

-He just has to stay …

-He just…

-Frisk clutches his knees tight and reels his senses in until he can only sense the room around him, granting himself a vague illusion of privacy as he cries.

(Cheerful Omake since the Angst in this hurt me!)

What if Flowey Was There:

-It’s funny watching his little brother lose a war with a flower.

-Not that he’ll say that.

-“Flowey,” Frisk calls dryly, “Please let him up, Aeon isn’t going to run off and do something stupid without us.”

-Flowey just scowls, trying to look hateful but only coming off as stressed while Aeon squirms, face slowly turning red from being upside down as he wrestles Flowey’s vines, “Oh really? Then why did I find him in that ghost ground with you that I had to break you two out of huh? He wasn’t with you before, so he must have wandered in on his own like an IDIOT- OW.”

-Aeon flips, landing on the ground in a smooth movement, then rocks a little as his blood pressure settles. Flowey curses up a blue streak as his vine regrows. Aeon just sheathes his sword with a sour look, “You’re a plant, not my PARENT. You can’t tell me what to do.”

-“The heck I CAN’T. You’re Frisk’s baby brother, which means you’re MY problem until Frisk decides you’re not worth it! Which is going to be NEVER because Frisk is an ANNOYING EMOTIONAL SAP LIKE THAT.”

-Frisk steps in before another fight can start, “Let’s just track down our mark for that hunt alright? It’ll be easy and simple.”

-It’s perhaps a good thing Frisk can’t see, otherwise he would have died of laughter from how Flowey and Aeon pulled off identical deadpan expressions, “Well now that you’ve SAID that,” Flowey grumps, “we’ll probably have to go rescue a kidnapped prince or something.”

-Frisk can literally hear Aeon roll his eyes, “The only prince around on this continent is safe in Insomnia.”

Four Hours Later:

-Flowey: “I TOLD YO-”

-Aeon and Frisk at the same time while Noctis stares wide-eyed at the talking plant poking out of Frisk’s backpack, “Shut up Flowey.”

[finn-wolfhard]

I need me some quality content and this is the best place for it. Could I get some being Steve's sister and dating Robin? (If that already exists somewhere then please direct me to it bc this idea is like crack to me) Thanks!!

Yo! I've just gotten back into Tumblr since quarantine has given me an abundance of time. I can guess that you ended up getting this elsewhere, anon, but for the folk who also want to read about wlw Robin B and Big Bro Steve - this ones for you! 

Enjoy x

I Do 

“Turn that shit down! GOD! I feel I’m listening to them in concert.” Steve was screaming from downstairs for me to turn my music down and before I could move an inch to do so, he barged through the door. “Look, I don’t want another complaint from Mrs. Fritz next door. Can you please turn it down. I promised mom and dad that the roof would still be on this place by the time they got home. I’m heading to work. The money for delivery is on the table. Just try not to get yourself into bother, OK?” 

“Yeah, sure, sorry Steve. What time will you be home?” our parents are both out of town on business and so Steve has been appointed man of the house. Last time we were left alone, Mrs. Fritz called the police on us, placing a noise complaint. It was just me playing my radio a little bit too loud in my room. My bedroom window is right next to her living room. 

“I’ll be home around 8. Do you want to wait till I’m home to order pizza?”

“Sure thing, dude” I answered, giving him a thumbs up and a grin.

“You’re a goof. I’ll see you at 8.”

Steve and I’s relationship is reasonably good for the average brother and sister. He’s a year older than me and has the same interests. Such as; Hair, Pizza, our looks, and girls. I’ve known I’ve been into girls since I was a little kid but dad would kill me if I ever brought a girl home. Mom would be a little more understanding, yet still against the idea - and I don’t even know how Steve would react if he found out. I think he’s the only person I’d be fully comfortable telling, but I don't want to risk it going the complete opposite way.

I hear the door slam and decide to get out of my pajamas and actually DO something today. The schools broke up for summer last week and all I’ve been doing is reading, listening to music, and waiting for my best friend Jennifer to get home from vacation and tell me all about it. She’s due home in three days. I finally muster up enough self-motivation to move from my cozy, pink bed to the bathroom. The cold tiles under my feet wake me up and I stare at myself in the mirror for a bit. I had managed to grow a little spot just below my hairline (which I quickly treated with zit cream) but that was about as far as the flaws went. I usually take good care of myself; drinking enough, taking my vitamins, brushing my teeth after every meal. I do care about my looks and I shouldn’t be ashamed of that. It helps gets me a lot of attention in school, and I’ve never been an outcast. I guess having Steve as a big brother does contribute to the high school fame, but I don’t let it get to me much. I'm just glad I’ve gotten through high-school without being bullied at least once. I looked at my scraggly hair. I had just had a perm done two weeks ago and it seemed to be holding up pretty well. I scrunched my hair to make it look nice and messed it up a bit to give it volume. 

In the kitchen, there was the money on the table, like Steve said, and a note next to it. 

Save me a slice! Steve :)

He must’ve written the note then realized that a slice won't suffice after a long shift at his dorky Scoops Ahoy! job, and asked me to wait up for him. It's a shame people don’t get to see this side of Steve and I. I know how we come across to other people. I’ve heard the odd remark here and there about how he’s a player and I’m a priss. It mostly comes from the social outcasts in the school, the ones who aren’t in our friend circles, and don’t get to see what we’re really like. Even then, our school personalities are a bit of a performance to uphold our popularity. Only Steve knows my real self and vice verses, and we both understand why it has to be like that. Its an unspoken rule type thing. 

I open the fridge and get some milk for cereal. I pour a bowl of Fruity Pebbles. Fred smiles at me from the box as I grab the phone off the wall and dial Amanda’s number. 

“Hey Mands, you want to go to the mall today”

“y/n! Hi! That sounds great. I need a new outfit for my date with Justin on Friday.”

“Cool, so, 12? That sound ok?”

We agreed on 12:30 (since she had to take her dog on a walk) and she suggested we meet outside the Gap. Soon enough, 12:30 rolls around and I see Amanda smiling wildly at me, where she said she'd be, outside the Gap. She sweeps me into a warm hug and we gush about how much we’ve missed each other since school broke up. 

“Ok, so I need to go to Claires to get some earrings.” I agree to help her find a pair that would, quote “make Justin harder than math.” I don’t really understand how a pair of earrings could do this to a guy, or even if guys pay attention to earrings at all, but I was open to being proved wrong. We start making our way to the stairs when Amanda realizes she’s suddenly craving ice cream. I put it down to the fact that there were Scoops Ahoy! Adverts on every trash can (I’m unsure if that is a sign or not). We make a detour to Steve’s work and I make a plan to pull a few strings to get a free cone or two. We enter the ice cream parlor and… Steve isn’t there. Instead, a girl with short blonde hair is serving the queue of customers. 

I squint at her, trying to remember her name. Rosie? No, that's not it. It begins with an R for definite. Its to do with an animal… a R-R-Robin! Her name is Robin. And she’s…pretty? Like, really pretty. And not very girly? I can’t tell since she’s wearing a silly uniform… but god, is she pretty. 

As I’m staring at her, a slew of slurs come racing into my mind. Slurs I panicked were being shouted at me down the halls but never were. They were always aimed…at her. At Robin. Words beginning with D and F that make my blood boil. Chip, A boy in my own friend group, muttering “Stay away from my sister, homo!” In class. I put a hand up to my mouth to hide a gasp. This girl was outed, by someone she thought was her friend from band, in Hawkins - which isn’t known for being the most accommodating and accepting town.

Amanda and I reach the front of the queue and I find myself unable to look directly at the girl serving me. 

“Hi! Welcome to Scoops Ahoy! What can I get you today?” She seemed overly enthusiastic for some reason. 

“Hi, is Steve here?” I say, breaking the awkwardness I had built up in my own mind. She looked away, disheartened? I couldn’t tell. 

“Steve, your sisters here” then she whispered something that sounded like “you can leave your little nerd friend to figure it out for a bit” but I wasn’t really sure. 

Steve appeared from around the corner.

“what do you want, squirt?” 

“2 sundaes please” I replied, smiling.

“that will be five dollars pleas-“

“STEVE! Can’t you gift your baby sister with a sundae for once?” I cut him off, appalled that he’s making me pay, but still keeping it lighthearted. 

“…fine. But only this ONE TIME” he shot back. I winked at him, thanked him, and waited for him to finish our sundaes. He brought them over and sat with us. 

“Who’s that girl?” I instantly questioned, trying not to sound too interested but failing miserably.

“Oh, that's Robin Buckley. She’s in your year at school, don’t you know her?” I do know her. But I don’t want to admit that yet, I want to play it cool.

“I think I’ve seen her around yeah, I’ve just never had a good look at her before. I think she’s in my social studies class?” I look to Amanda to ask this question but Amanda is already nodding by this point. Steve looks unconvinced. 

“well, I invited her for pizza tonight,” he said, not wanting to ask ‘is that ok?’ In front of Amanda to keep up his macho ‘I’m Steve Harrington’ persona. I glance over at Robin. By this time, she’s known as lovely Robin in my head. Not that I could help it, along with the butterflies in my stomach or the extreme excitement that she was going to be having dinner. With me. In my house. Tonight!… What am I doing? Get a grip of yourself! You’re not out - as if that is ever going to happen anyways - and Robin was coming for Steve. Of course she was. I mentally roll my eyes. Just my luck.

The rest of the day goes by pretty quickly. Amanda gets her outfit and ‘math’ earrings - which I still don’t understand - and I get a few cute t-shirts and skirts thanks to my allowance mom gave me before she went away. By the time I get home, it is 4 pm which means I have precisely 4 hours to get myself ready for tonight. I go to my room, read for a bit, then put my makeup on in my vanity mirror. I don’t want to mess this up, but then again, why am I caring so much?. I eventually get myself sorted and wait for 8 pm to roll around. At 7:45 I phone Hal’s Pizza Shop and order 2 pepperoni pizzas and 1 plain Margherita. I came to the decision that If Robin is vegetarian then she can have the just cheese, but if not, I’ll take it.  

I hear Steve’s key in the lock and he shouts to me from downstairs.

“Hey that's me back, y/n, did you order the pizza?” 

“Sure did!” I came to the top of the stairs and looked down at the front door. Robin was staring up at me and I couldn’t help staring at her back. Steve obviously missed this whole exchange of tension.

“Good! Because I’m starving. I’m gonna put a video on, anyone down for watching Indiana Jones?” He mimics a whipping sound and runs off to the living room, leaving Robin and me to awkwardly start a conversation. 

“So, you work with Steve. I’ll apologize on your employer's behalf.” I laugh, eventually. Robin looked relieved that I had said something, and even more so that it was a joke. 

“It's not as bad as you would think, he brings in loads of customers with that ‘magnificent hair’” she replies, making fun of Steve’s obsession with his, admittedly, perfect mane. 

“I’ve seen you about school before, sorry I’ve never talked to you before,” I said. I really meant it, she seems cool. And kinda hot? But that wasn’t important to me…

“Yeah, I guess our groups don’t tend to mix as much. I'm surprised you even know my name” she looks at her feet. She knows I know about the slurs and bullying, I can tell. Just then, there's a ring at the door and Steve reappears, running to get the door that we are standing 2 inches away from. 

After sitting, eating, chatting, and laughing our way through Indiana Jones, I realise Steve has fallen asleep beside me. So does Robin. We both snicker at him and then collectively tuck him in with the blankets on the back of the sofa. We sit in silence for a minute. 

“Robin. I want to say I'm sorry for all the stuff you get called at school. It's not cool and especially from my group-“

“it's fine” she cuts me off. She seems distant though. 

“I don’t think you understand what it does to me hearing people shout words like that at someone. It's inhuman,” Robin looks at me over her cup of hot chocolate Steve made us halfway through the movie. She looks on the verge of tears. “I mean, I don’t know how I would cope with that if people knew I was one too.” I look away from her confused stare in embarrassment. Robin is the first person I tell this massive secret to and I've only been in her company for the past 3 hours? But it felt right. It felt too right, almost.

Robin picks herself up from her space in the armchair and comes to sit on the arm of the sofa. She doesn’t hesitate to put her arm around my shoulders and squeeze me in for a side hug. I hadn’t realized that I had started to cry and I wipe my eyes and nose with the back of my hand. 

“I’m so sorry they said those things to you” I whispered while silently sobbing.

“Don’t worry about it, y/n, I have pretty thick skin when it comes to bullying. I've been in band for the past 3 years,” I look at her and let out a small laugh. The smile fades from her lips and a serious look takes over her face. “You don’t need to feel ashamed. Or embarrassed. I’m honored you told me, I know how much trust that takes. Thank you.” 

We sit embracing for a couple of minutes and I try to defuse the tension. “You know, I think you’re pretty hot.” She laughs, and I can feel the heat radiating off of her. She’s blushing. 

“You’re not too bad yourself, Harrington,” she gives me a small smile. “I think you’re the prettiest girl in our year.” Now it was my turn to blush. I’m not sure if she’s saying this out of courtesy, sympathy, or if she really means it. 

“You don't have to say that” I roll my eyes and let out an embarrassed giggle. 

“I do.” She whispers back, the darkness multiplying the tension by 10. After a while of nervous silence, not sure what to say next, Robin asks you a question.

“I hope I’m not out of line for saying this, and you can one hundred percent say no,” I looked at her, questioningly, “but why don’t we go out sometime? We can go to the park or we can go to the cinema. Your choice… if you want-if you want to.” She was visibly nervous. In the pitch black, with only the dim glow from the paused movie TV static lighting up the room, I agreed to go on a date with her (”I’d like that”). We both can tell the other is excited but can also tell the other is exhausted. Robin moves back over to the armchair, which was just big enough for a teenage girl to curl up in, and I curl up to my sound asleep brother. It takes a while to finally get to sleep, but I can’t help my mind doing laps, thinking about my future date with Robin Buckley. 

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Parent Trap 2/? (Keanu x Reader)

Summary: Annie and Hallie are twin sisters who never met until they end up in the same summer camp together. They decide to switch places to see how the other lives. Hallie heads to Los Angeles to meet Keanu, owner of Arch Motorcycle Company, while Annie goes to New York to meet you, rising fashion designer. Their plan is simple: get their parents together to make the perfect family. If only it could be that easy…

Prologue | Chapter 1

Author’s notes: So we finally get to see a bit more about these clueless parents. Hope you enjoy it and feedback is always appreciated.

Wordcount: 2446

Warnings: none.

New York, August 2019

You checked your watch for the third time in the last ten minutes before glancing at the arrival board again. Hallie’s flight had landed twenty minutes ago, but the girl had yet to appear. You knew your niece was probably just waiting for her luggage, but you were anxious to see her.

Hallie had spent a month away at camp and you truly didn’t think you would miss the girl this much. As a matter of fact, you’ve always believed you would be that kind of parent that taught their kids how to be independent, have more autonomy. Raise them for the world, isn’t that the saying?

You weren’t expecting the emptiness associated with Hallie being away though. The apartment was so silent and lonely that you had to contain your urge to call the girl every night, see how the camp was going. You didn’t want to be one of those overbearing parents that smothered their kids.

So you waited for Hallie’s calls and texts, even if they started to become rarer and rarer as the month progressed. You knew that was probably a good sign. She was having too much fun to remember to check-in, but it still made you worry and stare at the phone, trying to will it to ring.

That was over now though. Hallie was finally back and you weren’t planning on letting her out of your sight. She still had another month of summer break before classes started and you planned to enjoy with her everything New York had to offer.

You rose to your tiptoes to get a better look at the new wave of people stepping through the doors. Finally, you caught sight of the familiar redhead and your lips tilted into a smile as you took a moment to just watch as your niece looked around.

Was it possible that Hallie seemed a little taller than the last time you saw her? Her jawline a little sharper? It had really been only a month? Felt like so much longer. The longest you ever had been away from her since you adopted Hallie.

It had been so hard. Especially with knowing that Annie was still out there. No matter what everyone else said, you knew in your heart that she was alive somewhere and every inch of you craved to search for Annie, but Hallie needed you too and you had been only twenty-five and all by yourself.  

You definitely didn’t regret it a second of it, though. Almost thirteen years later and look at Hallie: such an amazing, sweet kid. Maybe you managed to do this parenting thing well enough. Even if it meant you ended up making a few sacrifices in your career and romantic life. It was all worth for Hallie.

“Hallie!” you shouted and waved and the girl took a second to look your way, but her eyes lighted up as she saw you.

You didn’t know why she looked a little awed at seeing you, but before you had time to really think about it, she was rushing towards you, but stopping almost as if in hesitation.

“Welcome back, Hal!” you greeted, pulling her into a tight hug, which the girl returned.

“Thanks, m…,” Hallie paused, clearing her throat quickly. “Dave.”

You pulled back to look at her with a smile and a frown. Had Hallie been about to say what you thought she was going to? She had never called you mom and you never pushed her to do so, even if that was how you felt in your heart.

“I missed you, kiddo,” you said pushing away the thought, before bringing the girl back into your arms, inhaling the scent of her strawberry shampoo. You could swear you missed Hallie so much even her hug seemed a little different. Like you had forgotten how they felt like.

“Missed you too,” Hallie replied as she pulled back and looked up at you. Once again with that awed expression.

“Come on,” you said, picking her duffle bag while throwing an arm around her shoulders. “I wanna hear all about camp.”

In the taxi ride home, Hallie told you everything with such detail, her eyes shining bright and you couldn’t help but grin.

“It does sound you had a great time, sweetie,” you commented as the two of you stepped through the front door and you handed Hallie the keys. “Why don’t you go ahead? I wanna check the mailbox.”

Hallie just nodded and you waited until the girl had disappeared up the stairs to unlock the box and pull out three envelops. You grimaced at the words overdue on them, but shoved inside your jacket pocket, way from sight. The last thing you wanted was to worry Hallie. you would think about these bills later.

Once you arrived at your floor you couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Hallie was struggling against the old lock. Moving closer, you set the girl’s bag on the ground.

“What? Been away so long you forgot the trick?” you joked, taking the girl’s place in front of the door, jiggling the keys three times while turning it so you could unlock and push it open.

“Salem!” You called. “Look who’s here!”

You looked around at the familiar room, searching for the black cat Hallie had adopted, but he was nowhere in sight. Weird. He was always waiting for you two at the door unless there was a stranger around.

You glanced over at Hallie, hoping the girl wasn’t too disappointed at not seeing her cat. You knew how much she loved Salem.

“It’s fine,” Hallie shrugged, a strange smile on her face. “I probably just smell like camp and the airplane.”

She shouldered her duffel and headed to her room without another word. As soon as she was out of sight, Salem peeked his head from under the couch, meowing softly and you sighed, kneeling to caress the cat.

“Everyone’s weird tonight,” you whispered, before flopping on the couch and ordering a pizza before checking her emails.

Yet another magazine had politely refused to feature your designs on their fashion section and you had to take a deep breath to battle sadness and tears. It wasn’t exactly surprising because your latest collection was far from your best work but you had to get something out there, find a way to keep the business afloat or be forced to sell your brand and that was the last thing you wanted.

With another sigh, you set your phone aside and moved towards your room, surprised to find Hallie standing there browsing your old sketches, the ones that hung on your wall since forever but Hallie was looking at them as if it was the first time.

“Hal?” you called to catch her attention and the girl jumped startled, looking at you almost guiltily.

“Everything ok, honey?”

“Yeah,” Hallie replied a little too quickly as her eyes shifted to the framed picture of you and Mary that you kept on your bedside table.

You watched the way the girl gently ran her finger over her mother’s face in the picture almost as if a caress; as if she was seeing for the first time.

“You’re sure?” you asked and it was impossible to miss the way Hallie wiped her eyes before turning to look at you with a smile.

“Guess I was just homesick,” she replied, voice rough with emotion.

“You’re home now,” you said, gathering your kid in your arms. “Everything’s back to normal.”

---

Los Angeles, August 2019

Keanu knew he should be paying closer attention to the meeting unfolding in front of him. A company as big as Harley interested in funding Arch meant he and Gard could go from being a custom shop based in LA to actually start selling nationally, maybe even internationally. They would be able to expand their business, maybe even start to build some of the parts they still have to import from other companies. It was huge.

Still, Keanu’s attention wavered, his eyes shifting periodically to the clock, before he glanced down at his cellphone, willing it to ring. Annie should be arriving soon and all he wanted was to be there to greet his baby girl as soon as she stepped through the gates, but this last-minute meeting had made it impossible, so Karina had to pick her up.

“We’ll get in touch once we make our decision,” Gard announced, bringing Keanu back from his musings.

He stood up from his seat to shake hands with the two sharply dressed men in their fancy elegant suits. Even Gard had thrown on a dress shirt for this meeting, but it wasn’t enough to make Keanu feel all that bad for his t-shirt and, jeans and brown hiking boots. Suits weren’t really his style.

“Did you hear a word they said?” Gard asked with an amused smile playing in his lips and Keanu chuckled, running his fingers through his messy raven locks.

“Maybe two or three,” he admitted with a sheepish look. His friend and partner snorted and shook his head, walking out of the office.

“You’re supposed to be the businessman, Ke. I’m the mechanic, remember?”

“I know, I know,” Keanu sighed, following Gard to the shop where the prototype of their new bike was waiting. “It won’t happen again. It’s just…”

“Annie is coming home, I know,” Gard smiled and patted Keanu’s back, who grinned and nodded.

Keanu had always wanted to be a father, everyone knew that. Call him old fashioned, but along with Arch, having a wife and a kid had to be one of his biggest dreams and for a while, he thought he wouldn’t be able to have it because he still hadn’t found that person he wanted to spent the rest of his life with.

In his head, Keanu thought he would first find the woman of his life, that one person that completed him, then they would have their kids and live happily ever after. Cheesy? Yes, but it had been his picture-perfect idea.

Keanu had never imagined that Annie would be the one to complete him, make him the happiest man ever. His daughter was his everything and even if he still hoped to find that person to be his partner and share his life Keanu knew now he had almost everything he wanted. He was a happy man. Especially when he was with his bikes.

Running his fingers over the smooth metal of the motorcycle, Keanu glanced at the clock again. Annie should’ve arrived by now. Why hasn’t Karina called yet?

“Maybe the flight was delayed,” Gard offered and Keanu had to smile at how his friend knew exactly what he was thinking about. “Come on. Let’s test this baby. It’ll get your mind off things.”

With a sigh, Keanu nodded. Gard was right. No matter how much he wanted his daughter to get home, staring a the clock wouldn’t make her arrive any faster. He changed into his race gear and pushed the bike to track.

It was one of the reasons Keanu and Gard had chosen to build their store in Hawthorne instead of Los Angeles itself was to be able to add this small track so they could make their tests without prying eyes.

With another glance at the clock, Keanu put on his helmet and climbed on the bike, gloved hands tightening on the handles as he twisted the accelerator, the roaring of the engine bringing a grin to his face as he settled a little more comfortably on the seat.

“Ready?” Gard asked, his voice coming loud and clear from the speaker in the helmet. Keanu only hummed in agreement. “Alright. Go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Keanu sped away, his mind going peacefully blank as the wind rushed through him and he became one with the bike. The machine easily responding to every little nudge and twist of his body. It was one of Gard’s greatest creations and at that moment Keanu knew they couldn’t merge with Harley. This was an Arch. This was theirs and no one else’s.

After a couple of rounds in the track, Keanu brought the bike back to the gate, meeting Gard’s expectant look as he pulled off his helmet.

“It’s perfect, man!” Keanu grinned, breathless from adrenaline and excitement. “I can’t wait to show this baby off in the next circuit!”

“Great!” Gard’s grin matched his, but there was so underlying relief too. He had been working on this bike for months now, tweaking it until it was just right. “We’re ready then.”

If possible, Keanu’s grin widened even more as he handed his helmet off and walked back inside the shop, freezing in place when he saw the girl peering at the bikes exposed. His heart raced and all of the sudden, that gaping hole he had been experiencing in his chest felt full again. It was always like that whenever he was away from Annie.

“Annie,” he spoke softly but the girl’s head snapped his way, her green eyes widening slightly as her lips twisted into a smile.

“Dad...” Her voice sounded almost hesitant and he thought he saw her eyes welling up, but it was for just a second before Keanu found himself wrapped into a tight hug.

Keanu grinned widely, kissing the top of her head, sighing in relief and from the corner of his eye, he saw Karina standing there, phone in her hand and smirk on her face. Gard right beside her. They knew. They planned this. Sneaky bastards!

 “Ke, you’re gonna smother the girl,” Karina joked moving closer.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, finally letting go of Annie and being able to properly take a look at his daughter, who was watching him with something close to wonder. “I like the new hair.”

“Oh. Thanks,” she said, touching the long bob she was spotting. When he dropped her off at camp, Annie’s hair felt to mid-back. He noticed her cheeks turning a little red and Keanu frowned.

“Everything ok, sweetie?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Annie hurried to say with a quick smile. “Just tired.”

“Well, you’re home now so you can rest as much as you want,” Keanu said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

Annie looked up at him, once again with that hint of hesitation and wonder, before her gaze shifted to the bike being brought inside, curiosity shining through.

“Wanna take a look at the new arch?”

“Yes!” She flashed him a big, eager smile.

“Come on then,” Keanu said, guiding her closer excitement making him forget Annie never really cared for motorcycles before today.

xxx (tbc) xxx

Go to Chapter 3

Tag list (give it a shout to be added or removed)

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[imagineclaireandjamie]

Hey!!! I really love Come Hell or Helwater! You have done a wonderful job with the story I'm really excited to see where it goes with LJG in the picture. Do you have any plans to continue it? Thanks!!

anonymous asked: Hi! Is there gonna be more of Come hell or Hellwater? I miss it 😬

Claire comes back to the past with Brianna and arrives at Helwater looking for Jamie—but must confront the a few of the Dunsanys first.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Come Hell or Helwater - Part Seven

Claire was stunned silent, staring at Lord Melton and his brother.

Major Grey stepped forward, conciliatory. “It was my brother who spared your husband’s life after Culloden,” he explained. “It was in payment of the debt I incurred shortly before the battle at Prestonpans when he spared mine.”

Blinking, Claire stared at him and mentally subtracted the intervening years. “You broke your arm,” she recalled, at last recognizing him.

“Indeed. And you set it for me. It healed beautifully, I might add. It never gives me any trouble.”

“Right. Would you allow us to escort you back to the main house, Mrs… Mackenzie?” Lord Melton interrupted, conceding to the necessity of addressing her by the false name.

Claire glanced down at her stained skirt and her empty basket.

“You should go on ahead, Hal,” Major Grey said. “I’ll assist Mrs. Fraser in the task we interrupted and will ensure she gets back safely.”

“You don’t need—” she began to object, but Major Grey handed the horses’ reins to his brother and began picking a new batch of berries. “Thank you,” Claire said, giving up.

“Madam,” Lord Melton nodded before remounting and walking the horses back to the road leading up to the main house.

“Are the berries for a particular remedy?” Major Grey asked, depositing another fistful into Claire’s basket.

“Not exactly. Lady Dunsany was suffering from a cough this morning… among other complaints. There’s a tea I believe will soothe her throat and I thought the berries would complement it nicely. Having more fruits and greens in her diet is more likely to ease her complaints than worsen them,” Claire explained. “That’s the case for many people, actually.”

“Watercress,” Grey murmured. “Jamie said he’d got the idea of it stopping scurvy from you.”

“He told me you were governor at Ardsmuir while he was there and that he served as a sort of ambassador for the prisoners. He didn’t tell me the pair of you talked about me,” Claire informed Grey.

“He didn’t talk of you often or much—pained him to most of the time. But the pain of loss was one we shared. One I am… happy… to learn he no longer suffers from on your account,” Grey remarked, straightening after depositing a final handful of berries into Claire’s waiting basket.

“I’m sorry for your own loss, Major. And thank you for your assistance.”

“Shall we take the road back?”

“I’ve only recently arrived so I’m still learning the lay of the grounds.”

“Then allow me to take you by a favorite walk of mine,” Grey suggested, gesturing in the direction he meant them to take. Claire nodded and followed his lead.

“You are familiar enough with Helwater to have a favorite walk?” she inquired.

“My father was friends with Lord Dunsany and so our families were close, especially when I was young. Their late son, Gordon, was only a little older than I. We played at being soldiers together when we were boys. He joined the army when I was still too young… and was killed at Prestonpans.”

Claire held her tongue as she followed Major Grey through the underbrush and along edge of the trees to a half-plowed field.

“It’s a prettier walk in the late spring when the grasses are starting to get tall and the wildflowers bloom. But it gets turned over and planted with wheat—as you can see,” Grey explained as he picked his way over the rows. The sun above was already baking the moisture out of the dark, recently-dug earth, changing the color from a rich, muddy brown to a bleached and cracked variation.

“You said you’re here for the wedding.”

“Yes. We’re hoping to stay for three weeks if we don’t get called back from leave sooner.”

“Lady Dunsany spoke of other family friends who would be coming to stay…”

“I don’t expect you’ll know any of the other guests,” Grey responded lightly. “Unless you made the rounds of London society before you married Jamie…? Not that it makes much difference. The Dunsanys largely withdrew after Gordon’s death and though Lady Geneva is to marry the Earl of Ellesmere, he is respected more than he is liked. There are likely to be many regrets sent along with the gifts.”

“I shouldn’t like to think that our recent arrival was putting additional strain on the family when they’ve so much already to worry about,” Claire fibbed. Truthfully, she worried that the more people the Dunsanys had to stay, the busier both she and Jamie would be leaving them less time with one another and a greater strain on Brianna as she continued to adjust to more than just the change of scenery.

“Here we are,” Grey announced, smiling as he came to a stop as the land began to tilt.

Claire paused beside him and took in the view. It was a gentle slope down through several fields and toward the main house, a broad expanse comprising most of the cleared land that made up the Helwater estate. The fields became horse paddocks and gardens, then met with the shorter buildings housing the stables, outdoor kitchens, and along one side, the cottages that included the one the Frasers now called home. They were all dwarfed by the main house itself, sitting comfortably on a slight elevation making it easier for those within to monitor the workings of those without.

“I can see why this way is your favorite,” Claire said.

Grey made a small hum of acknowledgment and then began to descend the slope, keeping to the flat path along the edge of the field. It was a trajectory that would take them toward the stables—and Jamie.

“Your husband believed rather adamantly that you were dead, Mrs. Fraser,” Grey remarked. “Might I inquire as to what would cause him to believe that? And how it is you came to rejoin him here at Helwater?”

“He sent me away before the battle at Culloden,” she admitted. “Loss that day—or one soon after—was inevitable and he wanted me to be safe. When we parted… it was with the understanding that he wasn’t likely to survive. And for the last ten years that’s what I thought had happened. So many died that day and in the following days and weeks—not just the soldiers of the army, but many left behind supposedly safe at home… I had no hope for him as he had no hope for himself. I couldn’t contact his family when I had finally found my way forward again. I suppose that’s why he believed me lost as well,” she equivocated as the truth began to brush against what couldn’t be shared.

“And when you learned he lived, you came for him.”

“He would have come for me if he could,” she asserted.

Grey chuckled. “That he would.”

They were near enough to the paddock for the figures of the horses and grooms to take recognizable shapes. Jamie had firm hold of a lead rope and was walking an older gray mare about in slow circles. Brianna sat stiff and awkward as she experimented riding sidesaddle, her ruddy hair bouncing wild down her back with each step.

Grey stopped dead at the sight, his head whipping to Claire.

“You see now why he sent me away,” she said. “And why I let him.” She walked ahead, waving to catch Jamie and Brianna’s attention. Jamie lead horse and rider to meet Claire at the fence.

Grey was pale but soon recomposed himself and took halting steps to join the small family.

“It’s not as scary as I thought,” Brianna told her mother as Jamie helped her down. “But I don’t think I want to ride that way all the time.”

“Practice will build yer confidence but ye needna push yerself if it’s no what ye want,” Jamie said, color rising self-consciously up his neck. Claire gave him a smile of encouragement and offered the two of them a few berries from her basket.

“Care to come with me up to the kitchens to clean these and make them into something for Lady Dunsany to have with her tea?”

Brianna shook her head. “She came down to meet her guests and will have her tea with them. There isn’t enough here for all of them, I don’t think.”

“Major,” Jamie said warmly, as Grey approached. “They said Lord Melton had arrived wi’ an extra horse. Said ye’d be along but no that ye’d come this way before ye went up to the house.”

“Mackenzie,” Grey greeted Jamie, his eyes sliding to the groom standing in the barn doorway. Still, he was relaxed once again, the color returning to his face. “We encountered your lovely wife on our way and startled her I’m afraid. I offered to see her back and give her a brief tour of the grounds as she said she is still newly arrived.”

“You’ve been a charming tour guide,” Claire thanked him.

“And I’ve enjoyed the pleasure of your company as well… but if I don’t make my appearance at the house shortly, I will have my brother to answer to. I will speak with you again soon.”

“We’ll have a game of chess if ye wish,” Jamie offered.

Grey smiled. “Indeed. You may beat me as often as my brother, but you’re more considerate and crow less when you do.” He touched his hat and strode off toward the house.

“Gave ye a fright did he?” Jamie asked, his voice low and his mouth twitching into a smile.

Claire showed him her stained skirt and heard Brianna snort next to him.

[angelrizzoli]

An Appointment With An Old Friend

Who: Fliss Keller and Jacob Hilden Where: The Doctors Office When: 21/6/19 What: Fliss goes to get her prescription renewed.

@dr-hilden

Fliss had been bracing herself for her bi-monthly meeting with Doctor Grendith for the last week. It was no longer such a struggle to leave the house, however she still dreaded having to talk about Hal. Making her way to the desk she was affronted with the fact that Doctor Grendith had thrown his back out and she would now have to see an entirely new doctor. Momentarily she considered simply turning around and walking out of the surgery and straight back to the warm comfort of bed before realising how childish that seemed. Instead she took her seat and patiently waited until she was called. When she finally heard her name she rose from her seat and allowed a nurse to show her into the doctors office hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

Jacob was at at his seat beside the computer with the usual consultation seat in front of him. He looked up smiling with a warm smile to his next patient that he was helping his colleague with and was met with a familiar face. "Oh, hello Fliss." He said enthusiastically, standing up to shake her hand as a form of re-introduction. "It's been a while how are you?"

Fliss panicked at the sight of Jacob, no, no, no she couldn’t do this. She considered making a run for it, but instead she forced herself to smile. “Oh.. hello Sir.” She responded wishing that she could sink into the floor. “I’m moving along.. how about yourself.”

"Fairly good. I heard about your husband Fliss, I'm very sorry." Jacob offered his condolences early so that it would be out of the way of the appointment. "You look great." He added, moving to sit and gesturing that she should do the same.

Fliss tensed a little, she didn’t want to have this conversation. She nodded awkwardly. “Thank you.. it’s okay.” She said, working on her smile and taking the seat he offered her. “Oh um thanks, you look great too.” She responded gesturing to his body and then feeling awkward.

He appreciated her comment though he suspected she said it only in reciprocation to his. "Thank you, we've come a long way since oboe band camp, huh?" He chatted, knowing that this was only a 10 minute slot but also wanting to get a quick catch up all the same.

She nodded, straightening the hem of the white blouse that she was wearing. "A very long way, though look at you I always knew you were going to do something worth while. How did Harvard treat you?" She asked loosening up a fraction, as she focused on a part of her life that had been pre-Hal.

"That's very nice of you so say, I appreciate that. Harvard was good to me, and I made it through at any rate." He sat back "It's so strange to see you all grown up now. I mean, I saw you around a little when you've done public press but it's very different when I still picture you at.... how old were you? 13?"

"I'm sure you aced everything if you're anything like the Jacob that I remember." Fliss told him wanting to return the warmth that he was offering her. "Oh I hope you didn't look at any of my public press it's all tripe." She said frankly, she knew that her message under her parents and her message while married to Hal had been so conflicting that no one could really take her seriously. "14, it's funny to see you too I still think of you in your senior picture in my yearbook."

Jacob badly wanted to ask about the Jacob that she remembered, flashing momentarily back to his first real kiss. "Just to catch a glimpse of you." He smiled "And to boast that I knew you in high school." He teased "But Ms Dartford how can I help you today?" He asked, knowing that this conversation could go on but he had to remain professional too.

Her face crease with a wave of softness, the words he was saying were so sweet. “That’s very nice of you, though you’d get a few eggs thrown at you if you boasted about knowing me.” She said, ignoring the clench of her heart when he called her by her maiden name. “Oh.. right.. I just need you to sign off on a refill of my paroxetine.” She responded, breaking his gaze and staring down at her lap.

"I've had a few eggs thrown at me, but none for having known you." He told her, feeling disastified by the return to the formal, despite knowing it had to be done. "I can do that for you.  I have to ask how long you've been taking it and when was your last review of the dosage?" He asked almost apologetically, sensing her own discomfort.

"Well I'm glad there weren't any thrown on my account, though I can't imagine why anyone would want to throw eggs at good doctor Hilden." She replied softly, and sighed a little. "I've been taking it for about three months now, and my last review was a month ago yesterday. I have a renewal recommendation somewhere in my bag." She told him, fiddling with her handbag and feeling about one foot tall.

He chuckled "Well, it made sense in medical school at the time." He assured. "May I see that?" He asked as she already rifled around for it. "How have you gotten on in the last three months since taking it?"

"Are you telling me that you were a terror in college?" She asked amused, and then handed him the renewal recommendation from her therapist. "It's certainly been a lot easier since I started taking them, I've been able to be more active and more engaged with the world again."

"A nightmare and a scoundrel." He assured her as he looked over the paper. "That's great, have you tried any other anti-depressant before this one?"

"Well it appears I was very much missing out on an all new side of you." She told him trying to distract herself with how uncomfortable she felt with him knowing that she was now some depressed widowed housewife. It's not how you wanted your first kiss to perceive you , though she supposed that it was better than him remembering her red faced and with braces. "No, I hadn't taken any medication regularly before ."

"That side wasn't old enough to drink, overwork and overtire all at the same time and find newfound confidence. That side doesn't come to work with me, but it can be found on some weekends and bank holidays." He bobbed his head "Have you noticed any of the prescribed side effects?"

"That's true and I'd hope it doesn't come to work with you. I'm sure old Mrs Morris with a weird rash would be a little confused if you started dancing on your desk." Fliss joked though her tone was a little more reserved than before. "Only that I'm a little more tired after a long day, a bit of an increased appetite and a small amount of bloating."

"I think that would cause some pace maker failures from the scandal." He agreed easily. "Ok, well I hope that you won't exert yourself but otherwise that sounds in the range of normal so I'll just sign on for another round for you." He told her passing a slip over

She looked at the slip with relief and a hint of shame. “Thank you Doctor.” She told him, pressing her lips together. “I do hope you’ll take care of yourself.”

"I hope we bump into each other again, Fliss. It was wonderful to see you." He stood up to open the door for her to end the session.

"I hope so too." She told him honestly, and with a last smile she exited the office.

[sqoiler]

family swap au stuff

haley’s circus was in smallville for a rest stop and john and mary went out and were killed in a car crash

it was the talk of the town and martha and johnathan decided to take in their orphaned son, as he was around kara’s age (kara had just landed a few months ago and they thought she could use some company)

they tried to keep the alien thing a secret from dick but it was hard for kara not to brag (i mean come on she’s like 10 have u ever met 10 year olds)

so dick knew and demanded to meet superman and thought clark was the COOLEST EVER

and dick and kara become besties and then one day they’re on a field trip and they go to a lex corp lab for a field trip and one of the workers “accidentally” spills something on kara and dick sort of.jumps in front of her? and then it gets on them both and there’s an electric shock that gives dick kara’s powers. she still has powers but now he has a weird version of them, too

after this clark takes kara & dick and they both move into his apartment in metropolis so he can keep an eye on them and be there for their training

this all ended up with dick and kara sneaking off to the fortress as soon as they could both fly and making themselves suits and supergirl and superboy were born

dick & kara co-found the titans which consist of kid flash, speedy, aqualad, aquagirl, wonder girl, and starfire

the titans eventually disbanded but before that happened kara & babs dated for a while. they mutually broke up when babs decided to move back to atlantis and quit being aquagirl 

when the titans disbanded dick and kara decided to. move on and be a lil more solo so they became nightwing and flamebird

they were still partners but they worked less with clark or the titans and more with each other or justice leaguers 

their home base is still metropolis but they worked on cleaning up bludhaven and work worldwide

b’ara is an atlanteian and she’s the adopted daughter of orin & mera

she grew up a princess and she learned magic from her mom

when garth became aqualad, b’ara (who’s around his age) forced her dad to let her be aquagirl alongside him and garth and babs joined the titans together

babs & garth were always friends but never super close?

babs dated supergirl for a lil bit but when the titans disbanded babs decided she wasn’t so sure about being aquagirl anymore so she went home to atlantis to work with her mom some more

at some point babs went up to visit with her friends for a titans reunion and while she was up there she got shot in the back of the spine by a mugger and was paralyzed 

she had to stay up in the surface for a while after that and started doing tech stuff to help her dad with heroing

this led to her going up to the watchtower and helping the whole jl once she got really good at tech

she still goes to atlantis & can swim around still (her arms are ripped af)

cass & jason were twins born of shiva and given to cain

when they were around seven shiva showed up and killed cain and rescued her kids, leaving them with someone to take care of them. that person, of course, immediately dumped the kids in the first waste hole they could find. 

jason & cass are left in gotham and they’re both mini killers who cant talk, all alone on the streets. fun times

black canary, who occasionally teams up with batman, was in gotham and found the two of them, cold and alone

dinah was sorry for them and took them in, just for winter to get warm so she could dump them in the foster system

then she got attached and taught them how to talk and they got cursed by the wizard (who approached dinah about some sort of alternate timeline or something) and now they both had the same canary cry and before dinah knew it she made ollie pull some strings to legally adopt them and jason & cass lance were born

dinah worked to re-train them and when they were 11 cass and jason decided that it was far past time they became superheros and snuck out as gold & red canary

dinah loves them a lot but they really give her a headache sometimes

the three of them live in an apartment in star city and crash at ollie’s place a lot and when roy got addicted and ollie kicked him out dinah brought him in (cass & jason were still pretty little then) and they all bonded and roy’s basically their brother now

when tim & kon restarted the titans cass and jason became reserve members since they were a lil older 

cass & raven became really close friends through the titans

jason is close with gar and kid devil and others idk

cass and steph, another reserve member, become pretty close and become known as a nightmare pair

speaking of steph, 

she and her parents move to central when she’s like 3ish and crystal dies when steph is six

when steph’s 11 flash brings down cluemaster and adopts her

steph pressures wally into telling her how to get powers and executes the procedure and survives 

around this time, wally hung up the KF mantle, so she took it on

it only lasted a few years before she, too, had to give it up

when barry died and wally became the flash, steph picked up the mantle of dart and bart showed up soon after 

steph was a reserve member of the titans and befriended cass lance

she dated courtney whitmore when she was kid flash but when she retired they broke up

when she was dart steph & cassie got together and have been going strong since

she and damian became friends and ever since whenever hal looks at steph he gets a mini heart attack

t’hym m’orzz came to earth at the same time as his sister m’gann did, and they both sort of hung around before j’onn introduced them to kon, who’d recently come into existence, and the three of them hit it off and from kon’s older brother dick’s encouragement they re-started the titans

soon enough people like bart and cassie joined, bringing along steph and cass and jason and raven and gar an

t’hym and kon started dating and making plans to see the stars and generally being gay

duke thomas’s parents were killed by a wonder woman villain, and diana took duke in

duke convinced her to train him and she did 

the gods found out about this and blessed him with some powers (strength and flight) and he became wonder boy

he’s never been to themescyria and doesn’t really want to intrude or anything

he and cassie are best friends and when cassie joined the titans he wasn’t far behind

duke & diana have a mother/son relationship and cassie jokingly calls him her nephew since she and diana are sisters

duke and bart have mutual crushes on each other and are skirting around the issue atm

damian was dropped off with bruce and he was trying to convince him to be batboy or something when a green ring descended from the sky and announced that damian was the youngest green lantern of earth ever

bruce begrudgingly took him to hal who stuck him with jessica and simon

damian and jess immediately got along really well and it took longer but he and simon eventually got along, too

the three of them are known menaces among the green lanterns of earth and hal is eternally faceplanting at them all

damian & steph met when hal & barry started dating and all the lanterns decided to shovel talk barry

damian voice: allen PLEASE break jordan’s heart i don’t want him to be happy

steph: [snorts in laughter]

anyway damian & dick met when jon befriended damian (as new members of the new titans) and jon invited him over and dick was like “this is my new brother”

damian: hey father i have a new brother and sister now

bruce, tiredly: who

damian: stephanie allen and dick kent

bruce: im moving to ethiopia 

(feel free to ask me or my artblog @sam-and-crystal if you have any questions! <3)

[aion-rsa]

The Walking Dead: World Beyond Episode 1 Review – Brave

https://ift.tt/2HRDxol

This The Walking Dead: World Beyond review contains spoilers.

The Walking Dead: World Beyond Episode 1

Growing up is never easy, but growing up in a world where safety is clustering behind walls with a few hundred other people and visiting the next town over might involve a helicopter trip or a dangerous days-long trek through walker-infested wilderness is something else entirely. It’s been a decade since the Night the Sky Fell on The Walking Dead: World Beyond, and since then, Iris (Aliyah Royale) and her sister Hope (Alexa Mansour) have grown up in the relative safety and normalcy of the Campus Colony, formerly Nebraska State University. Certainly, like all colonies, there were times of trouble, but as Iris wakes up and heads out for a school trip, things are prosperous. Campus Colony is home to 9600 or so people, and things are as normal as could be. People gossip, a piano plays, and Iris is the president of the graduating class of her high school, bound for big things and destined to become a leader in her community.

The community is buzzing because of the tenth annual commemoration of Monument Day, in which the town remembers their dead and looks forward to their future as part of the Three Ring Network with the Civic Republic and Portland, Oregon. However, not everyone is on board with the idea of celebrating their community’s most important day with a secretive, heavily-armed, apparently militarized city state where there is no communication, in or out. In fact, the Civic Republic’s location is only known to the people of the Civic Republic, and anyone who travels with them from Campus Colony never returns. Surely, life is better on the other side of the Great Plains, right? And that’s why no one who goes to the Civic Republic ever comes back?

It’s not subtle. The Civic Republic’s arrival is greeted positively enough by Iris and the rest of the community, despite Hope’s sneaking on board the bus and attempted sabotage of the welcome sign. Truthfully, those seeds of distrust are planted the moment Julia Ormond steps off of the helicopter and introduces herself as Lt. Colonel Elizabeth Kublick, a representative of the Civic Republic military clad in a crisp tailored black uniform. When standing next to the head of campus security, Felix (Nico Tortorella), the dichotomy is clear. Campus Colony might have brains and some cool brown leather jackets, but the Civic Republic has might, and they’re not afraid to flex their might by doing things like flying by helicopter for a glorified barbecue, even if they claim to be low on resources.

The story doesn’t pass the smell test, for obvious reasons, but discovering whether or not the Civic Republic is evil isn’t the main crux of the story. At its heart, World Beyond is a coming-of-age road movie, with two daughters journeying out into the wilderness beyond Campus Colony in an attempt to be reunited with their father on the other side of the country. Aside from the zombies—here, they’re called empties—and the militia who are pretty clearly up to no good, it’s a familiar enough road trip.

Read more

TV

The Walking Dead: World Beyond Introduces Its Young Characters

By Alec Bojalad

TV

The Walking Dead: World Beyond Review (Spoiler Free)

By Ron Hogan

“Brave” spends most of its time setting up the world of Campus Colony, and establishing Iris and Hope’s personalities. Iris is book smart and driven; her goal is to become a scientist like her father. Hope is no less intelligent, but rather than becoming a researcher like their father or senior class president like her sister, she spends her off time sneaking around after dark, throwing parties and brewing illegal alcohol. A lot of this undoubtedly has to do with the back story of the two characters, and the trauma they experienced on the night in which an airplane crash-landed in Omaha in the middle of their neighborhood, triggering an explosive outbreak of empties in the process.

Both girls are struggling with guilt over the death of their mother; Iris feels guilt because Hope had to watch their mother die, and Hope feels guilt over what she did in the immediate wake of her mother, picking up a dropped gun and killing a pregnant woman in retaliation. Scott Gimple and Matthew Negrete’s script leans into that sister relationship, with little side-trips for their fill-in father Felix and Huck during their community guardianship duties. This is clearly a community that survived by brains, rather than brawn, and as such they deal with their problems in such a way. Iris has therapy sessions to try and end her nightmares. Hope acts out, smothering her lingering guilt and issues beneath a teenage troublemaker streak that’s a little too calculated to be true. The speech Iris gives for Monument Day is a bit on the nose, but that feels appropriate for a teenager, particularly for one negotiating through the disappearance of her father. She’s given a captive audience in the town, in a public forum in front of one of the military people who whisked her father away, and it allows for a nice interplay between Iris and Elizabeth.

Magnus Martens is given something more character driven than action-packed, and he handles it well, keeping things moving in spite of a slightly expanded episode length. It drags in parts, but not enough to be terribly distracting; it slows in service of the characters and the plot, rather than needing to fill a little time, and while it doesn’t always pay off, it works more than it doesn’t. Aliyah Royale does a wonderful job with that valedictorian-type speech, and the moments she has with Alexa Mansour while they engage in sisterly bonding and squabbling feels realistic, as well. Uniformly, the young performers shine when given a chance, even if it’s just Hal Cumpston’s impression of being just slightly overwhelmed by the force of Hope’s personality and the joy on Nicolas Cantu’s face at the thought of getting to go off on a big adventure rather than just waiting around for the world to end. Julia Ormond resists the urge to engage in mustache twirling, opting to treat the two girls in a more motherly fashion, and to respond to Iris’s lashing out in public at her with the patience of a long-suffering mother, rather than the snap of a military leader used to commanding others.

Her darker side will come out soon enough.

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World Beyond is an interesting product. It’s a teen drama being sold as a horror property. MTV’s Teen Wolf balanced those twin poles well for longer than they had any right to, thanks in large part to a break-out performer in Dylan O’Brien, but by the end of its run, it was less roaring werewolf and more three-legged basset hound. With a tight episode order and a specific plot arc in mind, World Beyond will attempt to avoid that fate while fleshing out The Walking Dead‘s universe. The setting is interesting, the acting is solid, and The Walking Dead: World Beyond is better than it has any right to be. At first blush, it’s a welcome addition to the undead menagerie keeping AMC’s Sunday night lineup shuffling along.

The post The Walking Dead: World Beyond Episode 1 Review – Brave appeared first on Den of Geek.

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Warriors OCs Relationships: My Take, ShadowClan Edition

Let’s face the facts: creating good Warriors OCs in general can be a nightmare.  The Warriors series by Erin Hunter is about four (later five) groups of feral cats called Clans that live in the wild.  They are frequently in competition with one another, but share much of the same culture and traditions.

Part of what makes Warriors OCs a nightmare is that they have a shorter lifespan than humans do.  Feral cats only live around two to five years on average.  That number can be bumped up for Clan cats because they have medicine cats to treat their injuries and illnesses, but only a couple of cats have reached thirteen years old or above.  

The books span a long time period with an Allegiances listing the cats of each Clan in every book.  This equals hundreds of Warriors characters in total.  There are many long family trees.  The family trees have become tangled with several relatives mating with each other.  It’s one of the downsides of the Clan cats being forbidden from mating outside their Clan.

This guide covers ShadowClan to Lost Stars, the first book of the seventh series of Warriors novels.  This mostly deals with children and descendants.  However, if the parents or siblings of a certain character are not known, I will address that as well.  How family members of each line interact in canon will be noted.

While characters born after Lost Stars are excluded, I will mention if a certain cat has died in the books after.  

I will keep things simple by listing one main cat per lineage.  Sections will include a cat’s parents, siblings, children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and cousins if their family tree goes far enough.  I am excluding cats from the prequel Super Editions and novellas; they will be found under a related character’s name from the main books if they are listed at all.  

The exception will be for characters that were named in the main books, but received screen time in side stories later, like Rosetail, her brother Thistleclaw, and Mapleshade.  Characters will be split by Clan.  

Some characters are covered under multiple sections.  Second and onward mentions of a certain character’s family relationships will redirect to where they were first covered.

Any information about Warriors family trees comes from the Warriors Wiki.

(Warning: The following section will be very long; there are many characters to cover!)

ShadowClan

Raggedpelt/star: Raggedpelt/star’s bloodline has much intrigue.  His mother Featherstorm mated with a kittypet named Hal.  He has a brother named Scorchwind that does not appear anywhere but Yellowfang’s Secret.  His mother kitted three half-siblings later.  He entered an illicit relationship with Yellowfang.  They had three kits together; Brokentail/star was the only survivor.

There seems to be a tradition of father killing in this family.  Raggedpelt/star killed Hal, and Brokentail/star killed him.  Any Raggedstar descendants would have to either come from a one-night stand with Brokentail/star or from Scorchwind.  

In fact, no one knows what happened to Scorchwind after Yellowfang’s exile.  Did he die in a battle Brokentail/star started?  Or, was he murdered because he discovered what really happened to his brother?  Was it a simple illness?  Did he find love?

Hal denied his relationship to either of his sons.  Raggedpelt/star later killed him in battle.  Their relationship is non-existent.  Featherstorm does not interact with her firstborn kits on page.  Scorchwind does not interact with Raggedpelt/star after his apprenticeship except for helping bear his corpse back to camp after his death.  

His half-brothers Mosspaw and Volepaw were kitted after he died, and died young to boot.  Neither of them got to know Raggedpelt/star.  

His half-sister Dawncloud was also kitted after his death.  She had two unnamed kits that died during Brokentail/star’s reign.  Their father is not known.  She lives up to Rising Storm/Tigerclaw’s Fury.  Her cause of death is unknown but she appears in StarClan during the Ultimate Guide.  

Certain parts of the series like Into the Wild attempt to portray her as elderly, but she was born just a few moons before Yellowfang’s banishment.  It’s likely her dead kits came from a teenage pregnancy; Dawncloud was apprenticed young, and would have had to move into the nursery soon after her warrior ceremony to allow time for her pregnancy and kits’ birth.  

A Raggedpelt/star descendant can be done, but it will take some effort to work them into a story.

Nightpelt/star: This poor cat’s lineage is mostly unknown.  His brother was Clawface, and Clawface gave him two nephews.  He was forced to retire early from asthma.  Everything else is a mystery.  

First, who were Nightpelt/star and Clawface’s parents?  Did they have any other relations like aunts, uncles, and cousins?  What did Nightpelt/star think of his brother killing a medicine cat (Spottedleaf)?  How did Clawface respond to his brother being made an elder early and forced to nest outside of the camp?

Any Nightpelt/star relatives will have to come from his nephews Cinderfur and Stumpytail.  His poor health makes him a poor candidate for fatherhood.  He also did not seem interested in romance.

He and Clawface had a strong positive relationship, though.  It’s described that although Clawface was a little too rough, he was kind to Nightpelt/star.

Give a Nightpelt/star relative a try.

Blackfoot/star:  His bloodline is a little mysterious.  Blackfoot/star’s mother was Hollyflower, and his siblings were Fernshade and Flintfang.  His father is unknown.  His sister Fernshade had a son named Badgerfang that died when ShadowClan chased WindClan from their territory.  That’s where this family line stops.

Hollyflower was a stern mother with her kits; she once intervened when her apprentice-aged litter were playfighting instead of doing their duties.   Blackfoot/star, Flintfang, and Hollyflower did not interact much past apprenticehood, although Flintfang volunteered to inform Hollyflower of her son’s death.  The bond between Flintfang and Badgerfang was strong; they were not only uncle and nephew, but mentor and apprentice.  Flintfang was devastated when he died.

Maybe your story could fill in who Blackfoot/star and Badgerfang’s fathers were.  Did Badgerfang have any littermates we didn’t see?  Did Blackfoot/star and Flintfang find love and kits off-page?  How did Flintfang and Hollyflower die?  The only information known is that Flintfang at least survived until Tigerclaw’s Fury/Rising Storm.  There is much to write about here.

Rowanclaw/star:  He is one of the former rogues that joined ShadowClan in A Dangerous Path.  His parents and siblings are unknown.  He mated with Tawnypelt.  They had Tigerheart/star, Flametail, and Dawnpelt.  Dawnpelt kitted Sleekwhisker, Juniperstone, and Strikestone with Crowfrost.  Tigerheart/star had Lightkit, Pouncekit, and Shadowkit with Dovewing.

Rowanclaw/star and Tawnypelt have their ups and downs.  Tawnypelt is very proud of her mate, and defends him when others doubt his abilities.  He comforts her at times.  But, they argue at some points over Tawnypelt’s loyalty.

Both were supportive parents to their kits.  Rowanclaw/star had a lot of faith in Tigerheart/star’s leadership abilities.  He had Leafpool stay with ShadowClan longer than he wanted in Bramblestar’s Storm to ensure Dawnpelt’s kits were born healthy.  He acted affectionate with Flametail, and was upset when he died.  His kits return his love for them.

Tawnypelt acts caring towards Tigerheart/star, but also reminds him of his responsibilities.  She showed concern when Flametail came back from the Moonpool in Night Whispers.  She was highly concerned about Dawnpelt and her daughter’s kits during Shattered Sky when most of ShadowClan was under Darktail’s control.  It was noted in River of Fire that Tawnypelt was under a lot of grief from losing several of her family close together, Dawnpelt included.

Dawnpelt and Crowfrost seemed to have a close relationship before the latter’s death in Thunder and Shadow.  Dawnpelt definitely cared for her kits; when she was preparing to leave the Kin in Shattered Sky, she sent Strikestone and Juniperclaw ahead of her so Darktail did not catch them.  Her relationship with Sleekwhisker fizzled out after Sleekwhisker betrayed her Clan for the Kin.  Crowfrost was horrified when Juniperclaw and Sleekwhisker decided to join the Kin.

Sleekwhisker showed no reaction to her mother’s death.  Her brothers are astonished to see Dawnpelt among the ghosts in Darkest Night.  The siblings appeared close-knit until Sleekwhisker’s betrayal.  She killed their grandfather Rowanclaw/star in River of Fire; any remaining relations with her family were likely severed by her actions.

Their relationships are not fully fleshed out because of only being young kits, but Shadowkit, Pouncekit, and Lightkit get along reasonably well with each other and their parents.  Dovewing and Tigerheart/star had several ups and downs, including when Dovewing tried convincing him to leave with her in Tigerheart’s Shadow when his Clan was in a poor state, but they too love one another.

Rowanclaw/star could have descendants from either Juniperclaw or Strikestone.  Dovewing and Tigerheart/star’s kits are too young for either them to have kits or for their parents to have another litter.  Sleekwhisker becoming a mother is highly unlikely from what is seen of her in River of Fire.  

Give Rowanclaw/star’s line a try.

Yellowfang:  Yellowfang is listed under here rather than ThunderClan as ShadowClan is where she spent most of her life.  Her mother was Brightflower, her father was Brackenfoot, and her siblings were Nutwhisker, Rowanberry, Marigoldkit, and Mintkit.  She had a grandmother named Silverflame that died soon after her apprenticeship began.  She mated with Raggedpelt/star.  They had three kits together: Brokentail/star, Hopekit, and Wishkit.    

Rowanberry had Cinderfur and Stumpytail with Clawface.  Nutwhisker’s love life is unknown.

Any Yellowfang descendants will have to come from either a one-night stand with Brokentail/star or Rowanberry’s line.  Brokentail/star does not seem the type for a long-term relationship, and Nutwhisker does not seem to have had kits.  They would likely come from Stumpytail.

Yellowfang had a good relationship with her parents, but that came to a halt when Brokentail/star tricked them in believing she was responsible for her younger siblings’ deaths.  It’s unknown how they reacted to the news that Brokenstar lied about Marigoldkit and Mintkit’s fates.  

Brackenfoot does not appear outside of the prequel Super Editions or Code of the Clans, so he probably died during Brokentail/star’s leadership or a short time into the original series.  Brightflower only appears in one regular Warriors books, Into the Wild.  She probably died a short time after Brokentail/star’s exile from ShadowClan as she was stated to be close to becoming an elder near the end of Yellowfang’s Secret; she could have been one of the first victims of the carrionplace disease.

Yellowfang’s bond with her littermates was a lot more positive.  They spent a lot of time together.  Nutwhisker and Rowanberry stood up for Yellowfang when she was accused of killing Marigoldkit and Mintkit even if their parents were fooled.  Nutwhisker only appeared in Yellowfang’s Secret.  It’s possible he died from either a battle Brokenstar caused or was killed because he disagreed a lot with his sister’s exile.  He did not seem to have a mate or kits.  

Rowanberry lived up to Tigerclaw’s Fury.  She seemed upset about Cinderfur dying and her former mate Clawface’s betrayal.  Her relationship with her other son Stumpytail is not shown much.  He lived to the end of Tigerclaw’s Fury.

Yellowfang’s bond with Marigoldkit and Mintkit was not as strong as they did not live very long, but she mourned their deaths.  They did not seem interested in her; like many young kits in Brokenstar’s reign, they were focused on learning how to fight even in the nursery.  They did not interact with their other elder siblings, either.

She had a poor relationship with Cinderfur at least.  He claimed upon her being accused for her younger siblings’ deaths that she was treating ShadowClan like a nuisance.  She was not seen with Stumpytail often.

Yellowfang had a close relationship with her grandmother Silverflame that lasted even after the latter died.  Silverflame welcomed her company in the elders’ den, and gave her granddaughter advice from StarClan after her passing.  

Her relations with Raggedstar are a lot more contentious.  He acted emotionally abusive towards Yellowfang; he acted angry towards her because Sagewhisker forced Yellowfang into becoming a medicine cat, but acted sweet later to snag her back.  He does not seem to understand that this is not Yellowfang’s fault.  She still mourned when he died.  They do not appear together often in StarClan.  That speaks volumes in my opinion.

Sagewhisker forced Yellowfang to stay distant from Brokentail/star during his kithood, and she had to hide their relationship because of her being a medicine cat.  Brokentail/star acted hostile towards her when they were together.  Yellowfang had to kill him twice for the sake of others; she heavily regretted the first time.  Their bond is non-existent.  She grieved for Hopekit and Wishkit’s deaths.  

A Yellowfang relative is possible.  Just be careful about it.

Runningnose: This poor cat does not have a good background.  His mother was Lizardstripe, his father was Mudclaw, and his siblings were Tangleburr and Deerfoot.  He also had a foster brother in Brokentail/star.

Lizardstripe resented all of her kits.  Mudclaw did not interact with his children once on page.  Runningnose and his littermates bullied Brokentail/star as kits.  Outside of that, Runningnose and his siblings are not seen together except for in Tigerclaw’s Fury where Runningnose ordered Deerfoot to show gratitude for Tigerclaw/star’s rogues feeding ShadowClan.  

While Runningnose is out because of him being a medicine cat, maybe his siblings had kits at some point.  They aren’t mentioned as being in StarClan in any books or statements from the Erins.  Maybe they took mates off-page.  Their deaths could make a good story.

Littlecloud: Littlecloud’s mother was Newtspeck.  His two brothers were Wetfoot and Brownpaw.  His mother’s littermates were Ashheart and Frogtail.  Their father is unknown.

Littlecloud is not seen with his family much.  He accompanied his mother and brothers to a Clan meeting, and participated in a training session with his brothers, the other kits, and the apprentices that left Mosspaw dead.  None of his litter interacted with Ashheart or Frogtail.

Wetfoot and Brownpaw were not seen after Rising Storm/Tigerclaw’s Fury.  Frogtail, Ashheart, and Newtspeck only showed up in Yellowfang’s Secret and Tallstar’s Revenge.   They probably died after those books.  Did they find love or kits?

Why did Brownpaw’s apprenticeship take so long?  For the curious, he was apprenticed near the end of Yellowfang’s Secret under Brokentail/star’s leadership, and remained an apprentice up to his last appearance in Rising Storm/Tigerclaw’s Fury.  His brothers received their names in Fire and Ice.  Was Brownpaw a slow learner, or did he suffer an accident that lengthened his training?

Try making a Littlecloud relative.  It would be different from the usual Fireheart/star descendant.  

Boulder: His entire family tree is a blank.  His parents, siblings, other kin, and any mates or kits he had are unknown.

Who did Boulder grow up with?  How did his upbringing lead him to joining Hal’s group or BloodClan?  Did he ever find love?  How did he die?

The only thing I caution against is having him alive past Sunset or Leafpool’s Wish if you’re sticking to canon.  He was an elder by this point, and does not appear after those two books.

Darkflower: There is nothing known about this she-cat’s background.  Her parents, siblings, aunts, uncles. mate, and kits are all a blank slate.  She appeared from Fire and Ice to Rising Storm/Tigerclaw’s Fury.  She is shown as dead in the Ultimate Guide at Tigerclaw/star’s leader ceremony.

When was Darkflower born?  What was her reaction to Brokentail/star’s leadership and him being banished?  Did the carrionplace disease get her?

Darkflower is as mysterious as they come.  Make her some family or give her a story of her own.  Have fun.

Tallpoppy:  Her parents, siblings, mate, aunts, uncles, and cousins are unknown.  She kitted Applefur, Toadfoot, and Marshkit. Her first appearance was as a queen in Fire and Ice.

There are many questions about her background.  Who were her first kits?  What happened to them?  What did she think of her two adult kits getting involved with the Dark Forest?  

What we do know is that Marshkit likely passed along the way despite his mother’s care.  His siblings reappeared while he did not.

Sadly, cats from Tallpoppy’s line are unlikely unless they were born before The Last Hope.  Applefur, Toadfoot, and Tallpoppy herself perished against the Dark Forest.

Jaggedtooth:  His family is unknown.  He only spent a short time in ShadowClan before he defected to BloodClan.  Even his eventual fate after the BloodClan battle is unknown.

Jaggedtooth was a selfish cat.  Him having a family is unlikely.  Good try, though.

Whitethroat: His whole past is a blank.  All of his relatives are unknown.  He died in Rising Storm/Tigerclaw’s Fury from being hit by a car.

Whitethroat seemed like a young cat around Littlecloud’s age.  He could have had kits or a mate before his death, but it’s unlikely.  How did his upbringing affect his opinions or actions?  Did any one besides Littlecloud miss him after his passing?  Where were his siblings or parents?

This lineage looks like a dead end.  

Oakfur:  His family is unknown as well.  No siblings, parents, or kits.  He has trained a lot of apprentices, though.  Maybe he considers them family?

Oakfur is a blank slate family-wise.  He is still alive as an elder in River of Fire. Have fun with him.  

Cedarheart:  His relations are unknown.  He joined ShadowClan with the rogues in A Dangerous Path.  He’s never mentioned as having a mate or kits.

Why did he join ShadowClan?  What were his earliest moons like?  Did his leg injury he received in Twilight cause his early retirement?

You can try for a Cedarheart descendant, but be cautious.

Nightwing:  She only appears in Dawn as a queen.  Her relations are unknown.  We do not see what happened to her.

Go wild with her.  Nightwing may have an interesting life story to tell.

Smokefoot:  His lineage is a blank.  His parents, littermates, and other relatives are unknown.

Maybe he could have a mate and some kits we don’t see.  Give it a shot.

Snowbird:  Her family is more detailed than some of her Clanmates.  Ratscar is her brother, her mate is Scorchfur, and she has nine kits: Beenose, Yarrowleaf, Cloverfoot, Rippletail/Buster, Bluebellkit, Berryheart, Gullswoop, Frondwhisker, and Conefoot.  Berryheart and her mate Sparrowtail had Needletail, Sunbeam, Spireclaw, and Hollowspring.   Yarrowleaf kitted Flaxfoot and Hopwhisker with Nettle from the Kin.  Snowbird’s parents are not seen.

Snowbird and her mate seem to get along well.  He delivered prey to her in the nursery, and checked up on her while she was ill with yellowcough in Thunder and Shadow.  She chided Scorchfur during the latter for insulting Puddleshine’s skills.  Scorchfur comforted her about having to send a pregnant Yarrowleaf away from SkyClan in River of Fire.  They share several of the same opinions.

She also has a positive relationship with Ratscar.  She protected him from Shredtail during The Last Hope.  She insisted he would never betray his Clan.  Ratscar for his part was concerned in Shattered Sky about what kind of world his sister’s kits would grow up in.

Snowbird’s bonds with her kits are more varied.  Bluebellkit is not seen on page, but it can be presumed her mother was upset when she passed.  Snowbird expressed shock when a portion of her kits and granddaughter staged a rebellion in ShadowClan during Thunder and Shadow.  Needletail, Beenose, and Beenose’s elder siblings Cloverfoot and Berryheart joined the Kin; her reaction was not noted, but it could not have been positive.  She and Rippletail/Buster do not interact on page.  She and her younger kits do not interact in much detail either.

Scorchfur seems to have good bonds with his kits.  He checked up on Yarrowleaf in Thunder and Shadow when she and Snowbird were recovering from yellowcough.  He acted outraged in River of Fire when Leafstar sent her away during her pregnancy and snuck around to take care of her in the old ShadowClan camp.  He joyfully touched noses with Beenose’s spirit in Darkest Night after Tree summoned the dead ShadowClan cats.  He asked about Berryheart and Yarrowleaf during the encounter, which shows his care about them.

He does not show up with Bluebellkit in the books, but he probably mourned her passing.  He is not seen with Gullkit, Frondkit, or Conekit, but was indirectly shown as a great father to them in Shattered Sky.  He brought prey to them and their mother.

Smokepaw: He appears in the New Prophecy series up to Dawn where he falls off a cliff.  None of his kin are seen.  His Clanmate Nightwing is very upset when he dies, so maybe they’re family?

Kits are out with his death and young age, but Smokepaw could have family lurking somewhere.  Be creative.

Talonpaw:  His parents, siblings, and other family members are unknown.  He died in Twilight against the kittypets Jacques and Susan.  As he passed as an apprentice, he did not have a mate or kits of his own.

Ivytail:  She is one of the first apprentices outside of ThunderClan that Lionblaze and Hollyleaf met.  Ivytail’s relations are a complete blank.  She became pregnant in Night Whispers, but we are never shown who her kits or mate are.  She is shown as an elder in Dovewing’s Silence, Bramblestar’s Storm, and Crowfeather’s Trial despite being a young cat.  She does not appear after those books.  

Did she end up maimed after the Great Battle?  Did whatever caused her early retirement mess up her health, leading to an early death?  

Feel free to expand on her family and fate.  She has a lot of holes to fill up.

Owlclaw: He made his debut alongside Ivytail above.  His background is a blank except for having Smokefoot as his mentor.  He stops appearing after Bramblestar’s Storm.

Who were his parents and siblings?  What happened to him?  It’s like the Erins left his thread hanging.

Crowfrost: This cat was one of ShadowClan’s most reliable deputies.  He mated with Dawnpelt, resulting in Juniperclaw, Sleekwhisker, and Strikestone.  He died of yellowcough in Thunder and Shadow.  His parents, siblings, and other relations are unknown.

He and Dawnpelt were shown sharing a thrush once.  Dawnpelt defended him when he sent Twigbranch back to ThunderClan during the yellowcough epidemic.  He was horrified when Juniperclaw and Sleekwhisker joined the Kin.  Dawnpelt grieved after losing him, and two of their kits defecting.

Maybe expand on his kithood?  But, even if there are questions, there is much known about him already.  Considering that he died in the second book of the sixth series, this is impressive.

Kinkfur: Her parents, littermates, and mate are all unknown.  She has three kits named Dewkit, Mistcloud, and Sparrowtail.  Dewkit died after her initial appearance in Night Whispers. 

Her son Sparrowtail gave her four grandchildren with Berryheart: Needletail, Hollowspring, Sunbeam, and Spireclaw.  Needletail died when Darktail drowned her, allowing Violetshine to escape.  None of the others have made families yet.

Kinkfur cares deeply for her kits.  She fed Mistcloud herbs in Night Whispers after the kit lost her voice, and warned Sparrowtail and Dewkit to be careful while playing with a moss ball.  Dewkit’s interactions aren’t expanded on, but her surviving kits did not hunt much after her death because of their grief.

Berryheart worried about Needletail and Sparrowtail after escaping from Darktail drowning her.  She only left her daughter because it would place her and her mate in further danger.  She probably didn’t take Needletail’s death well.

Sparrowtail is shown as a doting mate, quickly building Berryheart a nest as she started kitting in Tigerheart’s Shadow.  He carefully guided her along the Silverpath before that occurred.  

Needletail died before her younger siblings were born, so she has not been shown with them.  The same applies to Kinkfur.  Sunbeam, Hollowspring, and Spireclaw are described as playing with each other as kits, but their interactions aren’t described in detail.  

So, her line is viable.  Have fun making spiky-furred OCs!

Snaketail: He’s a clean slate.  He has no known family.  He retired after Sunrise, and does not show up after Bramblestar’s Storm.  Who were his family members, and what happened to him?  Did he perish in the flood like Blackstar?  You decide.   

Whitewater: Her background is unknown.  How did she lose her sight in one eye?  Where is her family?  How did she react when her former apprentice Redwillow betrayed the Clans in the Great Battle?  It sounds like she has plenty of stories to tell.

Olivenose: What’s with the minor ShadowClan cats lacking background info?  Olivenose has no known family.  Crowfrost mentored her.  She was the one that coaxed Flametail into playing prey-stone, leading to his death.  She died in battle against the Dark Forest.

Does she feel guilty for what happened to Flametail? What was her final battle like?  Go on, and involve her in some stories.

Scorchfur: He has a large amount of kits with his mate Snowbird.  They are Bluebellkit, Cloverfoot, Berryheart, Rippletail/Buster, Yarrowleaf, Beenose, Frondwhisker, Conefoot, and Gullswoop.  His parents and siblings are unknown.

He cares about his family.  He checked on Snowbird and Yarrowleaf in Thunder and Shadow when they were ill.  He made sure Snowbird and their recently born kits were fed in Shattered Sky.  He happily touched nosed with Beenose’s ghost in Darkest Night.  When he met Beenose’s ghost, he asked about her siblings Yarrowleaf and Berryheart, showing he cared about them too.

He comforted Snowbird when a pregnant Yarrowleaf was thrown out of ShadowClan-SkyClan in River of Fire.  He was not happy with Leafstar’s decision to banish Yarrowleaf, either.  He and Snowbird were proud of Cloverfoot becoming ShadowClan deputy in The Raging Storm.

Frondwhisker, Conefoot, and Gullswoop don’t have a lot of mentioned interactions with each other or their parents.  They’re minor characters.  Rippletail/Buster doesn’t appear much with them either.  Bluebellkit does not appear in the books before her death.  

Yarrowleaf had two kits named Flaxfoot and Hopwhisker with former Kin member Nettle.  Nettle’s relationship with her ended on a sour note; he helped kidnap and threatened to kill their kits.  

Scorchfur mentored Flaxfoot.  How this affected their relationship is unknown.  He prevented Flaxfoot from interacting with other apprentices at a Gathering in Squirrelflight’s Hope.  Flaxfoot and Hopwhisker’s interactions with their family are not described otherwise.

Berryheart kitted Needletail, Sunbeam, Spireclaw, and Hollowspring.  Scorchfur’s individual relationships with his grandchildren are not expanded on except for Flaxfoot.  The closest things to interactions he has with any of them are suggesting Needletail and the RIverClan prisoners receive food in Shattered Sky and asking if it’s okay for Hollowspring and Berryheart to enter the medicine den in The Raging Storm.

Go for a Scorchfur descendent.  He has several options.

Shrewfoot: She debuted in Eclipse.  None of her family members are known.  Ratscar mentored her.  She died in the Great Battle.  She only spoke a little in Night Whispers.

Shrewfoot is another clean slate.  Come up with any number of relatives for her.  Have fun. 

Redwillow: This cat is one of the few Clan cats that remained on the Dark Forest’s side during the Great Battle.  Whitewater mentored him.  Blackstar eventually killed him when his loyalties were revealed.

He probably had littermates and parents.  I wouldn’t suggest a mate, though.  He was focused on the Dark Forest’s aspirations.  His evil nature would probably lead him to treat any mate or kits poorly.   

Ferretclaw: Available information on this cat is scarce.  Oakfur mentored him.  He mentored Spikefur.  He does not appear past Bramblestar’s Storm or the other books set around that time frame.  

Who were his family members?  What happened to him?  He’s last mentioned scrambling away from a badger in Bramblestar’s Storm.  Maybe he died against them.  You decide.

Pinenose: She first showed up in Fading Echoes.  Ratscar mentored her.  She has a decent-sized family.  Spikefur was her mate.  They had Weaselkit, Puddleshine, Lioneye, Birchbark, and Slatefur.  She took in Violetshine as a foster daughter.

She and Spikefur don’t interact much.  Their largest contact is in Thunder and Shadow where she calls for him gleefully, and proclaims to him how proud she is of Puddleshine as she recovers from yellowcough.  Spikefur in turn asks how she’s recovering.  He touches his muzzle with hers before leaving.

Her relations with her kits vary.  She definitely loves her birth kits.  She grieved when Weaselkit was killed in The Last Hope.  While ill in Thunder and Shadow, she is calling out for them and is worried they will become sick as well.  She is proud of Puddleshine’s skill as a medicine cat.  Her kits come visit her as she recovers.

Pinenose’s relationship with Violetshine however is a lot less warm.  While she reassures Violetshine she belongs in ShadowClan, she doesn’t treat her like a mother should.  She does things like pushing VIoletshine to the edge of the nest.  Violetshine attempts loving her despite this.  She’s horrified when her foster mother is killed in Shattered Sky.  She befriends Puddleshine later on, but not any of her other foster siblings.

Lioneye and Birchbark are seen together a lot as apprentices.  They fight each other over a thrush.  They continue until Twigbranch breaks them up.  They accept this, sharing the thrush before finding more moss for Puddleshine.  Lioneye comments she and Birchbark could have fetched lungwort for her brother near the end of the book. 

Slatefur is a minor character; he does not interact with his family very much.  Puddleshine’s family is proud of him, but he doesn’t interact with them much past Thunder and Shadow.  Most of them died in Shattered Sky.  

Pinenose’s line is viable, but any descendents will have to come from Slatefur or Puddleshine entering an illegal relationship.  Darktail drowned Lioneye and Birchbark.  Good luck. 

Starlingwing: This young cat first showed up as an apprentice in The Fourth Apprentice.  Tawnypelt mentored him.  He gave Ivypool a hard time when ShadowClan held her hostage for herbs in Night Whispers.  He became a warrior in The Forgotten Warrior, only to fall in the Dark Forest battle.  That is all we know about him.

Who kitted him?  Who are his siblings?  Did he experience any young love before he died?  Try filling up these holes.

Stoatfur: This poor cat’s past is an utter blank.  We don’t even know who mentored him.  To make matters worse, the Erins changed him from a ginger tom to a tortoiseshell and white she-cat after his initial appearance in The Last Hope.  Seriously, what gender or coat color is he supposed to be?  I am calling him by male pronouns in his subsection to lessen confusion.  

He doesn’t show up past the Bramblestar’s Storm-era Super Editions.  He was a rather young cat, so what happened to him?  Did he leave ShadowClan, or was he struck by battle or disease?  His story could be very fascinating. 

Pouncetail: If anything, he’s even worse than Stoatfur in some aspects.  He only shows up on page in Bramblestar’s Storm dragging bracken with Pinenose and answering Bramblestar’s inquiries after the battle with the badgers.  We never see him again.  None of his family or other relationships are known.  

Try him.  He may have a few hidden stories to tell.

Grassheart: She first shows up in Bramblestar’s Storm as an apprentice.  She mated with Stonewing, kitting Snaketooth, Flowerstem, and Whorlpelt.  She mentored Hollowspring and Gullswoop.  Her parents are unknown.

She is not often seen with her family because she is a minor character.  But, she seems to be a fine mother.  She had Violetshine play with her kits in Thunder and Shadow, and spent most of her time with Snaketooth after she fell ill with yellowcough. 

Stonewing got along with her although their time together is little; they agreed where to make a new den after moving in with SkyClan in Darkest Night.  He and Grassheart surrounded their kits at the Gathering where ShadowClan decides to merge with SkyClan.

Snaketooth, Whorlpelt, and Flowerstem seem to get along well enough.  Whorlpelt and Flowerstem were worried when their sister battled yellowcough.  

None of these three have said anything about wanting kits or not.  Have fun.

Stonewing:  He debuts as a new warrior in The Apprentice’s Quest.  He has three kits with Grassheart.  He’s mentored the same number of apprentices: Juniperclaw, Lightleap, and Antfur.  His relationships with his mate and kits are covered under Grassheart’s section above.  His parents and littermates are unknown.

Go on.  Making up relatives for him can’t be too hard.

Wasptail:  She is introduced as a new warrior in The Apprentice’s Quest.  She mentored Strikestone despite just receiving her name.  Despite her youth, she fell to yellowcough in Thunder and Shadow.  Her family members are not known. 

Who kitted her?  Did she have any littermates?  While kits are not possible because her time was spent mentoring Strikestone, maybe she had a romance off-screen.  

Cinnamontail:  She debuts in Tigerheart’s Shadow as an adult member of the guardian cats.  Her family members are unknown, and she has not shown a hint of romance on page,

Antfur:  He first appears in Tigerheart’s Shadow as a member of the guardian cats.  His family are not known.  If you are following the full Warriors canon, he is not a good descendants candidate.  He died in The Silent Thaw after falling from a tree.     

Blazefire:  Kate Cary has claimed Spiresight found him abandoned on her blog before the events of TIgerheart’s Shadow.  His family relations are unknown.  He hasn’t shown any interest in romance yet.

[pubtheatres1]

ARCHIVE INTERVIEW WITH PAUL CLAYTON THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR by JOE ORTON The Hope Theatre, Islington, 29 Jan – 16 Feb 2019 Paul Clayton is an RSC actor to the core. He has immense presence, a rich timbre to his powerful voice and his knowledge of theatre goes right to the bone. Most recently Clayton has been appearing in Holby City and The Split on BBC1. He is in the new Alan Partridge series with Steve Coogan and has filmed a guest lead in the new series of Shakespeare and Hathaway for release in 2019. With such a busy schedule it’s surprising that he’s fitting in directing Joe Orton’s THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR at The Hope Theatre January 2019. It is fitting that Clayton who is patron of The Hope Theatre, should be directing a play from the short body of work written by Orton. Orton lived and breathed in Islington, where his main haunts were along Upper Street. Halliwell, murdered Orton (aged 34) before committing suicide (in 1967). Whilst the Hope theatre isn’t particularly a gay venue, Clayton says frankly that “we know from the diaries of Orton’s sexual exploits which would have included areas not far from The Hope”. This is not the first time Clayton has directed an Orton play. Clayton (61) has an extensive career in television, film and theatre. Clayton made his first stage appearance for 10 years in BRIMSTONE AND TREACLE atThe Hope Theatre for which he was nominated for an Off-West End award for Best Actor. Now, he is re-emerging as stage director. “The whole thing about directing has changed. Theatres used to ring you up and ask what you are doing next season” says Clayton. “You could cherry pick what you would like to do and who you would like to do it with. Who are the names?” During the 90s and noughties Clayton was doing a lot of corporate. In 2007 he joined PEEP SHOW and the acting took off again. “Suddenly people wanted to get you in the room. I was Rather lucky to do five series over ten years”. Meanwhile, he continues to work in the corporate event world, most recently, four in a row for McDonalds. “Thanks to a wonderful team, at the end of business meeting, 3,000 people got to their feet and applauded; that’s a show for business, to be able to turn it into something emotional” recounts Clayton with a measure of understandable pride. It’s this work which enables him to do something like RUFFIAN. Fringe theatre is notoriously strapped for cash. Fringe theatre is very important to Clayton. “We all did it, because it was there. Now it’s a key part of your career plan and it enables actors with creating a project they’re passionate about.” Therefore, when AD Matthew Parker invited him to be patron of The Hope Theatre, he was keen to support and help. “It’s really vital that places like The Hope are there to let young people find a space for their ideas and that’s what I love about it.” At The Hope there are the Sunday and Monday slots when people cannot commit to a full 3 week run. Sitting in this elegant restaurant chosen by Clayton, he fits in rather well. He looks dressed by Saville Row, with Italian grooming and the staff know him by name. His presence could easily be that of a lawyer in court, confident and assured. So, in one of those theatrical reversals, it’s fun to know that, he is the one who coaches lawyers, in one of his corporate role play jobs on how to pitch. This is not so far from the rehearsal room where Clayton’s job is to make suggestions. “The actor takes that suggestion and makes it his own. You don’t tell people what to do but you open up possibilities for them and they are surprised by what they’ve achieved. That’s when it works at its best” The thing he most enjoys about directing is “being in room with actors but not doing the acting myself.” He loves “creating an environment”. One of his favourite directing jobs was on COMEDY OF ERRORS at Nottingham playhouse in 1994. “In a room for 4 weeks with 12 actors, and a 400-year-old play that had the audience rolling about. After four weeks of rehearsals it gets to be hard work but when the whole theatre roars with laughter, I think Oh! My god it works, it works.” “I’ve been lucky enough to play comedy. The sugar lump of the laugh.” Clayton read Orton before he saw any productions. “Primarily the things I love about Orton, is that he’s naughty and funny. There is that sense of wanting to shock and yet at the same time an understanding of being an outsider and loneliness in all of the plays. There are facets of him in them. The young men in Loot, the title character in Entertaining Mr Sloane, and even the bell hop in What The Butler Saw In the mid 70s The Royal Court did a season of three Orton plays, at least one directed by Lindsay Anderson. Clayton remembers queuing for tickets. Clayton has a clear understanding of Orton’s language and is a stickler for getting it right. He explains how important it is to be true to the writing. In his final year at drama school he had to do a bad play. Lord Arthur Savile's Crime by Constance Cox based on an Oscar Wilde short story. “Our director knew all about stage business, double takes, slow burns … picking up a glass” but in this play Clayton had to put business in to make the dialogue interesting. Clayton demonstrates the line “I was walking to the church at half past two and I saw Mrs Yates”. He explains that if he breaks after the words ‘half past two’, what follows seems much weightier. Clayton’s face takes on an ironical smile - “It’s sometimes naughty and I’d do it in Shakespeare”, he says under his breath. But Clayton insists this cannot be done in Orton. “You cannot put naturalistic pauses and para linguistics into an Oscar Wilde script and Orton is the same. You have to honour the script, it’s the gift of epigrammatic language. If a young actor can handle this dialogue, he can forget the acting and make it work, and make it funnier, just by the delivery of it.” The language is not necessarily naturalistic. “Wilde gave everyone an archness” explains Clayton. “Orton relishes and uses that”. He gives an example: Fay : Have you known him long? Hal: We shared the same cradle. Fay: Was that economy or malpractice? Whilst Clayton jokes that he might find his inner Ivo van Hove or Robert Icke, both taking theatre in radically different directions, he will be bringing the weight of all his experience as an actor. He has been very cautious with casting, two of the actors he has worked with before and he prefers to trust in the casting director and see only the most likely candidates. (Just aware that I want to make the point that this is done to improve the casting not to shut people out) He uses an analogy: “I don’t like a menu that has 30 choices because it gets in the way of me eating. I like a really nice restaurant with 3 or 4 entrées rather than a café with 30 choices … and everything with chips”. He prefers to spend a bit more time working with the actors. He has an idea of what he’s looking for and where to find it, but he keeps an open mind because he’s sometimes surprised. THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR is a play that is not done very often. It’s an early piece written originally for radio and adapted for the stage by Orton. “It’s a microcosm of what he then goes on to use as a prototype for what becomes ENTERTAINING MR SLOANE” says Clayton. Clayton thinks that he’s clearly influenced by Pinter. “It’s similar to Pinter’s THE ROOM. It’s really a Comedy of menace. Things are not always what they seem to be. There’s also a resemblance to Pinter’s pauses, although …” Clayton adds “there’s a bit in Orton’s diary when he says actors shouldn’t pause”. Clayton is enjoying the journey of the piece. “What you think you see at the beginning is not what you see at all. What you saw and what is committed are two different things. The story peels back. We think we’re watching a woman being terrorised by a man when her partner/husband is away and possibly that’s not what we’re seeing”. Clayton is clearly impressed with the script and its secrets. His assistant director has arrived at the restaurant, auditions are tomorrow and rehearsals start soon. The excitement is palpable. Paul Clayton paulclayton2@me.com

[monsterloveday]

Dating is just as enjoyable as explosive diarrhoea.

This will make you laugh. My pathetic failings will make you feel awesome. Man they are good stories to tell. There I was, the 26 year old Jay, feeling lame and inexperienced due to never having gone on a date and really wanting to try it out to ‘cross it off the list’... what a pile of wank. I’d tell her to stay home and eat, I’d tell her to spend that 50 or so quid and spend it on something more useful than trying to impress a guy who she most likely didn't give a crap about. And for the love of god DONT shave - DO NOT WASTE HOURS OF YOUR TIME JUST TO END IN NOT GETTING PORKED AND TO ITCH CONSTANTLY AND GET RASH FOR THE NEXT THREE DAYS.

Why do we do this to ourselves? - who thought meeting a stranger and feeling like you're in a job interview would actually go well? 

Actually maybe we should do it more like it were a job interview - it would certainly save time... *Girl* “Are you a dick?” *Boy* Yes, after I have learned that you wont just fuck me, i’ll piss off and move into the next fanny and will probably forget your whole existence, wait, whats your name again babe?” *Girl* - Thank you for applying, if you do not hear anything, it means you have not been successful”.... AAANDDD leaves. And then theres the trying on numerous outfits / buying brand new clothes to feel sexy and try them all on - with optional shoes and bags and sending all these options via Whatsapp to your mates and making sure you wear good make up but not too much make up, but make up that looks like make up but natural at the same time bla bla blaaaaaa. Surely someone has to earn the right to this shit? - not someone totally random who wont even buy me a drink?!. And whats more - with every date that is bad, you end up totally evaluating your whole love life and go into the major “Woeist MEEE! I am going to be alone forever’ WHERE IST THOU HUSBAND?!” and wanting to eat your body weight in ice cream until you somehow master the courage to do it all again with some other guy who is also “not the one”.  So we have, lets say his name was ‘Dave’. Dave was clearly very shy (my loud ass does NOT do shy guys). His inexperience was very clear, if there were a ten minute gap or so of me not replying to his texts, I’d receive a text from his relative telling me to hurry up and text him back. Oh lord. Why didn't I run for the hills at this point? He wouldn't make any decisions as to where we should go and wanted me to take the lead (urgh, my flange does shut very tightly), so I tell him he could take me anywhere as long as it was quiet so we could hear each other speak and that we could get some cocktails, (after our previous conversation of how much we liked them). His MUM drops him off to our meeting place - a nightclub. A nightclub where coincidentally his mates are. And the first thing he does is look at he prices of cocktails, states he's not getting any due to the expense. So he asks me what else I want, I tell him vodka and coke, he comes back moaning how expensive that was. Bet it wasn't as expensive as my taxis here and back to you love, but Im not being a little bitch about it!. I took turns in getting drinks (I usually do anyway) just to shut this one up.

Inevitably the conversation is pointless as we cant hear each other. (shock!) Knowing this was a failure, I drink enough and start talking of my bingo wings and how my arm fat needs to come off and wobble it in display. I tell him I'm going to get a taxi, so he goes to meet his mates (oh wow didn't see that coming!). To my surprise I still got texts from him the next day. Fail. Then theres Glenn, the guy who looked like a nice chunky bearded lumberjack online, who turned out to be the campiest guy who’s voice was higher than mine and probably weighed about 6 stone and turned out to be a proper hard core man hating feminist. He speaks of how he gets all his girlfriends massive dildos to avoid them cheating on him with actual human men. He is mouthy to a bar man he doesn't like for no reason and demands we go somewhere else.  When he eventually leaves for his train (after hinting and pleading he come back to mine - fucks sake) he asks me out right yet nervously “so um are we going to kiss now?”, I say no and that I don't kiss on first dates, which then leads to him pushing me into a dark corridor at the train station, pinning me against a wall and trying to force it on me - what a true feminist!. On my journey home I get a multitude of apologetic texts stating he acted like everything he hates. Wow. Fail. Another was with a teacher who also had the high pitched voice of a 6 year old girl and had made as much effort as you do for a duvet day - a crinkled T shirt with jeans that dragged on the floor with holes, I smell no cologne nor had his hair been touched. I feel like a right knob when Im dressed up wearing a very flattering top, perfume, hair and make up agonised over. We do a pub quiz in which he regularly “Sssshhhhes” me angrily and tells me Im getting too excited and that the other people will hear me saying the answers. He tells me he hates people who have a problem with his smoking, knowing he stated he is a non smoker on his profile. =| I watch him have a better time with his cigarette then with me. I last an hour and beg for my sisters boyfriend to come and save me. Fail. Hal was the best one. Hal slags off his date from the day before and informs me of his upcoming date for the following day =|. He buys a packet of crisps for us ‘to share’ and chomps on them without offering me one and then tips the packet into his mouth. After telling me previously he knows exactly where he's taking me, we walk around in Bristol with his sat nav, getting nowhere fast. He kindly likes to remind me of when its my round - usually as soon as he has finished his drink. (it may be ‘my round’ darling but its a hell no to you telling me so!) He tells me how he has been in prison for drug dealing and asks me what drugs I do. =| ( erm energy drinks with vodka?) After a few drinks I tell him I don't need another after his offerings, as I am getting tiddley, with this he comes back with come cheesy chips to help me ‘pace out’ - I think, wow he could redeem himself with buying me food! He asks me if I like hot sauce - I tell him no. He then pours hot sauce all over them but thinks this is ok because he also puts ketchup and mayonnaise on them (as these are the ones I state I like). He mixes them all onto one big gooey, disgusting concoction. He devours them like he has never been fed until he gets down to the last one. This one has  managed to escape the sauce, I tell him he can have it... Now, along with everything else Ive already mentioned, Id also like to mention that later on this guy had been drunkenly looking at my chest, telling me “I just want to have sex with you”, he tried to convince me not to take my last train home and to stay at his. But THIS is what takes the biscuit... He eats the last chip. THE LAST CHIP.  HE FUCKING EATS IT!? WHO DOES THAT?....WHO?!. This is when you know someone is truly a fucking asshole. Mega fail. Chris insisted we go on a date again and again and again. After weeks of convincing I give in, he says he will take me out to dinner - on the day of the date, he randomly goes quiet and nothing happens.  Oh ok then!. The next day he drives past me and texts me asking if I want a lift to work. Um no I fucking don't douche bag!. Fail. Kieran. My first actual good date. We even have a nice kiss (even though I dont usually do this but the moment was there) and he says he could actually stay up all night with me talking, that Im the only girl he doesn't just want to have sex with, that he is attracted to me but Im also like a mate to him - good things to say right? Wrong. After the second date (that I asked him to I may add), he tells me hes not used to girls not having sex with him and ditches. Needless to say this didn't give me a wide on. Fail. Now I know what your thinking, that Im a poor judge of character, that not all men are like this and I have been dating men who are clearly twats, some of this is true, but the whole point of dating is to get to know someone and the only way to find out if they are a dick is to go on a date with them, so some responsibility I shan't take! I havent dated for a few years now and Im not planning on trying again anytime soon, regardless of how horrendous they were, Im still actually glad that I have given dating a go and have indeed ‘ticked it off the list’. I do imagine that maybe someone out there in the universe has experienced a good date - who ever you are, where ever you are hiding - I salute you, to the rest of us poor bastards - we are brave souls.  Until I can be assed again, I will continue to date myself and not shave, stuff my face and not have to explain politely why I wont fuck a random stranger on a first date - call me old fashioned, but I do prefer the whole ‘Just talking to each other” thing and I do melt if a man acts like a gentleman. I love that shit! Romance is dead my friends, but so is dating!. Be back soon Jay Monster 

[dunwithurshitm8-blog]

Clenched Fists: The Meeting - Chapter 3

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

So this is the conclusion to the first part. Who’s ready to meet Hal? I’ve really got to apologise for him. He’d a diabolical character and I am not proud I created him but he sure does his job in the story. We won’t see him for a while after this. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS CHAPTER!! 

Words: 4961

Warnings: Implied non-consensual sex, forced drug use, abusive relationships, violence (sorry)

An 18 yer old Percie-Jo was sat at the desk in her boyfriends apartment in Boston, running her hands over her face as if it might make her concentrate harder. She groaned out loud in an attempt to release some stress. It was no good. She needed a drink . . . or some weed at the very least. She knew inside that she secretly wanted something more but she was telling herself that the cocaine her boyfriend had provided her with four times since they’d met hadn’t effected her that badly.

It had thought . . . because now she was shaking as she couldn’t think straight.

It was like running on caffeine; as if your body could run a mile but your mind could barely read to the end of the sentence.

She pushed her fingers into her eyes until she saw stars and then whimpered, opening them and realising the words were still a blur.

She lolled her head back and cast her eyes around the room. She suddenly realised how much of her stuff had migrated into this apartment.

Her record player was in the corner with her box of records in front of it, her guitar was in the corner, her clothes were folded next to his on the chair. Her book was on the bedside table, her laptop and sketchbook were on the desk. It felt vaguely adult. She was happy in a relationship and practically moving into him. He was wealthy and bought her things and made her happy. She didn’t need anything other than him now.

Considering she hadn’t been home or even her dad, brother and sister in five days. She was certain that the next time she saw them she’d end up arguing with her dad and never coming back.

But that was alright, at the minute she only needed Hal.

Hal could do just a good a job as her dad . . . if not better. Hal knew she was depressed, he noticed the mark on her skin and kissed them until she didn’t want to make anymore, he held her when she cried instead of making her feel embarrassed. She didn't need anyone else.

Hal was strong and tall and he knew what he was doing. He valued her, showed her off, made her feel bad but in a good way, a way that mad him want to fuck her and God! He fucked her good. They were the bad guys and there was something insanely hot about that.

She didn’t know pleasure until she met him; didn’t know what it meant to stand in a room and know that almost every man there wanted her and none of them were allowed. 

She was Hal’s. A mantra that he practically made her chant in their bed.

He gave her everything; made her everything she was, he was dangerous and controlling and she loved it. If she could relinquish power over her brain and give it to him she didn’t need to feel anxious whenever she made a decision, because somebody else made all the decisions and she trusted it was right no matter how morally wrong it was.

Everything was so much better since Hal.

He could get her anything she wanted as soon as she said she wanted it; possessions, drink, drugs. She had nothing completely to herself and yet it was worth it in her mind for everything that Hal gave her in return. She wasn’t sure how long it was until the door opened but the essay remained unfinished on the desk and Hal walked in holding a bottle of red wine and a smirk.

She sat up and smiled expectantly at him. “Did you do it?”

He grinned. “I just bagged the biggest fuckin’ drugs deal in Boston, baby. I’ve got every single one of Sam’s dealers working for me. Every single drop of their money goes to me! Babe, I’m gonna be fuckin’ rich!”

He scooped her into his arms and spun her around eliciting a giggle from her mouth before she leant back and pressed her lips to his.

He pulled back and pushed the bottle in front of her. “Care to celebrate with me?”

She pouted playfully and he knew immediately what she wanted. He laughed low in his chest and threw the bottle on the bed to reach into his back pocket from which he produced a small baggie of crushed white powder.

She squealed excitedly and turned, letting him slap her ass as she moved over to the desk.

The essay for college wasn’t going to be handed in so she was sure nobody would care if she used it as a relatively clean surface to take a line off of.

That was the night he knew he had her. 

In his mind there were three things about her he needed to use of change. He knew her weaknesses and he needed to exploit them. She didn’t want to be depressed sp he’d make her feel happy and she wouldn’t leave him for fear of getting depressed again. From there he could be himself and she’d turn it internal telling herself it must have been her that caused the problems. After that he needed to use the drugs to make sure she never left him for fear of having to go without drugs, then he needed to make sure she stopped talking to her family. That way she had nowhere to go if she tried to run.

It wasn’t a solid plan in his mind, that was just how it happened. 

He acted until she was in too deep to realise it was him and not her who’d changed.

That’s what the first few months were; a twisted kind of fuckery. He saw her weaknesses and manipulated them, got her hooked on the drugs only he could provide since she had no money for herself and then slowly convinced her that no other man wanted her, nobody else would have her since she was his. In fact, it was only around six months before she met Josh that she realised the state she was in. She’d been in Mad to Live since high school but now she’d go on stage and perform either high or drunk, everything was calculated and everyone assumed it was just her but really, she was off her face on whatever powders and potions her boyfriend provided her with.

At the end of the summer tour, when Hal went to New York for business for a week, she got clean. Initially she replaced the cocaine with weed and that worked for a day or so but the weed did jack shit for the shakes and the throwing up and she pulled whitey’s every time she smoked.

So she quit everything for as long as Hal was away - no smokes, no coke, no booze. 

Now two weeks is a very short time to get over a drug like cocaine but the two weeks had provided her with enough clarity to know that she needed to get out. The first person she told was Stitch. He’d been her best friend since the beginning of the band and since he agreed whole heartedly, telling her everything he’d seen as wrong over the last two years, there was no manipulating Hal could do to change her mind. 

So she started drinking again and indulged occasionally in some weed for her anxiety. Since she’d realised she needed to make her own decisions . . . she started having panic attacks again (Hal was not a fan of those) and the fear at her own fucked situation bought back the depression. 

But she learnt how to act high since she wasn’t certain if she said no he wouldn’t force her. So she acted and fucked him with less and less feeling every time. She couldn’t think of how to get out so she resigned herself to death. He was getting more and more violent when she jumped around him, she could act tough at meetings where he liked to flaunt her to people who didn’t have her but sometimes if he raised his voice she jumped. That embarrassed him and he’d punish her which in turn only lead to more anxiety around him. He was going to kill her or she was going to have a depressive episode and finish the job herself so she just accepted it.

And that’s the state she was in when she met Josh. There were other hurdles along the way; serious ones that fucked her up more than the drugs or Hal’s emotionally and sometimes physically abusive habits alone every could. But Josh was like putting an 8 foot tall and impossibly long wall in front of bolting horse. The horse can try to dodge it but it’s going to hit and eventually it just has to come to terms with the fact that the wall’s there now. And whatever’s chasing the horse might just hit it harder than she did.

Percie woke out of habit at 9 despite the late night. 

For a very brief slither of a moment, she frowned feeling the body next to her and jumped thinking it might have been Hal. Then she realised that she never woke up next to Hal and if she did he was never ever cuddling up to her like this body was.

She took a deep breath and turned to place her forehead to his chest. He shifted to accommodate her but went straight back to sleep afterwards and she smiled. 

As she laid in his arms she thought, and she couldn’t remember waking up at any points during the night.

That's weird. 

She didn’t sleep next to people, it took her six tours to be able to sleep next to members of the band and she had horrific nights sleep whenever Hal graced her with his presence for a night.

The only people she’d ever been able to sleep next to were her siblings but she hadn’t seen them in a long time so she wasn’t even sure if she top and tailed with her sister now she’d be able to do it.

But she slept next to Josh . . .

Josh snorted slightly as he woke fully and moved back in slight confusion to figure out where he was. After a tense moment, she felt him sigh contentedly and relax. “Morning.” He mumbled into her hair, stretching the sleep from his legs as she pulled her closer to his chest.

“Mornin’.” She greeted back, hiding a happy smile as she realised he was going to hang around and not make excuses to leave.

“How did you sleep?” He asked, still not completely awake.

“Quite well, surprisingly.”

“Surprisingly?” He seemed slightly more awake suddenly.

Realising quickly that her inability to sleep next to people was a little odd, she said: “I just don’t normally sleep well in the van.”

“Oh, it’s probably made better because there’s someone else here.” She chuckled to herself and hummed. “Probably.”

Her rolled onto his back with an exaggerated groan, pulling her with him into his side.

She placed her hand on his chest and slid into the crook of his arm, placing her hand on his chest. “What’s this?” He asked, tugging on the elastic band that sat near-permanently on her wrist.

“Just a habit.” She brushed off.

“And these?” He played with the three silver bracelets on her wrist. 

“My grandma’s baptism bracelet, my baptism bracelet and the other one was given to me by a friend called Chris back in Boston.” She laughed. “I had to tell Hal Stitch got it me so he didn’t find out about him.”

“Find out about him?”

She sighed. “He has a way of cutting me off from anyone who could spot the relationships abusive. I just met Chris on a night out and he spotted it straight away. I kind of used him to ground myself .”

“Surely it wasn’t always like this?”

“Hmm, well it wasn’t always this bad but the second I was with him I was spilling all my secrets and he was exploiting them.”

“Secrets?” He said with a joking intrigue, changing the subject. She leant up to look at his face with her arm still on his chest. “Deep dark secrets.” She teased.

She saw a smile play at his lips and could help but smile herself before she leant down and kissed him.

She watched him grin when she pulled away and sighed. “I wish we didn’t have to leave.”

Josh shrugged. “It’s okay. You’ll call me?”

“Of course. Any time I can.”

He thought about that for a moment. He didn’t know how often she was around Hal but he suspected it might be rather often so he suddenly started preparing himself mentally for the idea that he might not talk to her for weeks at a time. He’d only known her for 24 hours and his chest already felt empty at the idea.

As if she could see him getting lost in hid thoughts, she kissed him again and bought his eyes to her own. He felt his brain quieten as he looked at her and he couldn’t help a smile. It was nice. She leant on his chest again but still kept his eyes. “It’ll get better. We’ll be together, Josh, I promise.”

“I said I’d wait and I will, it’s just weird to feel like this . . . for me anyway.”

She laughed. “You think I’m used to feeling like this?”

He scoffed. “Good point.”

She watched him closely, paying attention to the rising of his chest as if cherishing the feeling of their synced breaths and heartbeats. 

“We’ll drop you off at home when we head out later?”

“Sounds like a plan. Matt’ll kill me.”

She chuckled, wondering how that must be to go home to someone, even just a friend, who’d wondered where you’d been and wasn’t going to yell at you for it. She took a deep breath and rolled from his chest to grab her jeans and wrangle them on. 

She struggled and they laughed together as she rolled around the mattress trying to get the drainpipes up her legs. 

When she was done she sighed in exhaustion and then rolled back over to him. “Sorry for getting you arrested.” She pecked his lips and stood, clambering over the van seats and towards the window to pull the curtain back and see if anyone was outside. “Do you know if there’s a maccie’s nearby?”

“Yeah, just down the road actually.” Josh sat and started pulling on his own jeans. He rolled over the seat, grabbing her waist. “And you didn’t get me arrested, I was out in time, I went back in to get Matt.” He 

She paused. “You went back in after you made it out?!”

“Yeah,” He said like it was obvious and shifted his weight to pull him back into his lap with her chest against his and their legs awkwardly tangled. “My friend was still inside.”

She was quiet for a moment before she shifted and straddled his waist, placing both her hands to his jaw. “You’re the nicest, most selfless person I’ve ever met.”

He chuckled. “You must’ve met some really abominable people.” She scoffed and then rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I have. But even if I hadn’t you would still be the nicest person I know.”

He tried to suppress his little smile but failed quite spectacularly. “Come on, let’s go get some food. It’s still breakfast.”

Their goodbye was simple, like a promise of more to come but not quite as desperate as it would become every time they said goodbye in the coming months. Maybe it was their naivety at how hard the distance would actually be when they were trying to get to know each other.

So Percie left at lunchtime that day to head to Chicago where she managed to find a payphone at almost midnight after the gig and call him. 

That conversation was short but essential: a confirmation that she wanted to hear his voice and wanted to know him and wished she could see him. Every time Mad to Live went on tour, there was an odd air around the last few days.

Every member of the band knew Percie only lived for tours. She never had any plans beyond the last date they had booked. She wasn’t quite suicidal but she was scarily resigned to the idea of dying. Living with someone like Hal will do that to a person. Stitch and Louis knew it was better for all of them of they had a few dates of the next tour booked before they headed home. If there was one thing Percie wouldn’t do it was let fans down.

This time however, as Percie jumped back in the van from talking to Josh on a payphone in New York, the worried air had not enveloped the van. 

Everyone noticed it but nobody commented.

But one thing was for sure . . . Percie was holding onto her life just a little harder than before.

Which was good, because Hal had said he didn’t want her touring with them again until he knew that she wasn’t a threat to him. Obviously he turned that on her; saying it was her fault he didn’t trust her not to be a liability and she believed him because he was so far into her head.

Even being aware of what was happening to her didn’t mean she could get him out of her head. The main way he stuck in there was just talking to her and he made sure he always spoke to her at least once a day. He knew that there were few things she cared about and one of those things was the band so to keep her he had to threaten the band.

Which he did way too frequently.

But today she had hope.

They drove the four hours back to Boston in the same fashion most bands do: lazing on the seats, covering their eyes to numb the hangovers and generally irritating each other jokingly. 

Percie had already been told by Hal that he wasn’t going to be in and that he’d be on business until the next day so she asked Stitch to keep her company after they’d dropped of Louis and Sim.

So the pair unpacked all of Percie's gear into her shared apartment with Hal and then made drinks and sat on the sofa.

Their apartment was impressive. Hal liked to flaunt what he had which mostly consisted of status, money and Percie. So he had a pent house suite that had been raided seven times in the three years she’d been with him. Since it was always clean and Hal was as careful as anything to never let anyone get solid evidence of his participation in anything illegal, the police always had to let him go. They didn’t know that he secretly owned The Black Flag bar in the city and that there was a warehouse just outside of town where there were enough illegal substances and objects to send him away for more than enough time.

That’s why he was so controlling over Percie; she knew too much and a confession and promise to testify from her would be the end of him.

But while he wasn’t there she’d be fine. 

So her and Stitch sat on the sofa and had a hot drink before remembering that he still had some weed left from the tour.

They hung around until 9 when she realised Josh would be home from work and she gave him a quick call. 

Stitch was working quietly on his guitar figuring out a melody for a new song as she explained the day to Josh and listened as he complained about work.

He said he was going to head to a gig; some friend from guitar centre was in a band that was playing that night so he was going along. Realising the time, she told him to go and that she’d call him sometime around 11.30 before she went to sleep.

They said a way too long goodbye and Josh cut the phone off.

Her eyes were drooping from the weed and everything felt soft. The music coming from Stitch’s guitar was like a lullaby and she smiled. “That sound different.” She said as she jumped over the back of the plush sofa in the middle of the room with it’s back to the dining table and facing the large bed under the two windows that spewed light into the room.

“I’ve been listening to some different music.”

“I like it.” She pulled a cushion into her chest and watched him. “Write a few like that and I’ll write some softer lyrics for them.”

“Will do.”

She smiled again and closed her eyes briefly before the door to the apartment opened.

Stitch jumped out of his skin and Percie froze.

Hal was stood in the doorway looking confusedly at Percie. He was a tall, slender man with a strong upper body and practically the perfect figure for a man. He showed it off by wearing a henley that was a size or two too small and slim fit jeans. He had a mop of dark hair styled perfectly and the most piercing dark eyes. His movement had that jitteriness that showed he’d been drinking as he glared at Stitch. “What’re you doing here?”

It was a good job she’d gotten off of the phone to Josh when she did.

Percie took a deep breath and adopted the facade she so often had to use around Hal. “I thought you weren't coming home tonight baby.” She stood and walked up to him.

“It stinks of weed in here.” He accused.

“That’s me.” Stitch said, not knowing quite how he would react to Percie being high on something he didn’t give her.

Hal hummed and moved over to the kitchen.

Stitch glanced to Percie as they watched the back of the man looking through his cupboards.

Percie took a deep breath and chewed her cheek, gesturing that maybe Stitch should leave.

He cast her an uncertain glance but she just nodded. 

“Okay,” Stitch sighed. “I guess I’ll be off. Is all your stuff out of the van?”

“Everything as far as I know.”

“Okay, I’ll drop anything round you might have forgotten.”

He hugged her tight as he pulled his guitar bag over his shoulder. “You know where to come if you need me.”

She nodded but didn’t make eye contact. She’d done that before; argued with him and left . . . it never ended well when she came back.

As soon as the door closed, she took a breath and approached him. “How was your day baby?”

“Shit.” He mumbled, closing the cupboard when he realised he wasn’t hungry but he didn’t turn to face her.

“Aww, how come?” She put the kettle on wondering if today he’d let her make him cup of tea and maybe sit next to her on the sofa.

“I lost two men.”

She tensed and blinked a few times before placing a teabag in her mug. “Want one?”

He looked to her and to her hand where she held a second teabag ready to go in a mug. “No.” He turned back around and she could see his knuckles going white as he gripped the sideboard. 

She deflated and poured her own cup. Even the steam from the mug seemed jittery and tense as it rose into the air.

She went to the fridge and pulled out the milk, checking he’d bought some more sine she’d been away. 

He had.

She closed the fridge door and removed the lid from the milk.

She wasn't sure if she’d made to much noise or if he was just so annoyed by the events of the day that he just couldn’t contain it anymore. 

Either way, he spun around and swung his arm into the mug sending the entire contents across her middle and onto her bare arms before it smashed on the marble of the island next to them. She cried out and dropped the milk.

She was frozen.

She barely even registered the pain of the skin that was already blistering on her left forearm or the sound of the milk plugging from the container.

She just stared at Hal.

His head was slanted down and his back was rising with the lungs-full of air he was hauling in in a feeble attempt to cal himself down.

“Please-“

“Stop talking!”

She’d barely spoken since he’d returned. She could understand how she’d irritated him so much. Her chest ached with the memory of the love they’d once shared and her muscles tensed in rage at what he’d done with it. “No.” She managed.

He froze in confusion. He stopped heaving, didn’t move an inch before he slowly, intimidatingly looked up to her. “What?”

“I haven’t said anything and yet you take it all out on me.” He arguments with him always started like this. She was fucking fierce when she wanted to be but it only ever seemed to come out after she’d tried to explain; tried to calm him down. This was a ridiculously weak attempt at explaining but he’d continue in the same way he always did and she’d return as she always did and he’d turn it physical because she was smarter than him but not stronger.

“You fucking deserve it . . . slut.” He walked slowly up to her and she remained frozen either out of stubbornness or fear, she wasn't sure. “You think I’d let you live happily after what you fucking did? You’re lucky you’re attractive else I would’ve done the same thing to you as I did to him.”

She could smell the alcohol on his breath but he wasn't drunk. He wasn't slurring enough to be drunk, he’d just drank enough to be numb.

“Don’t you dare!” She tried, hating whenever he bought that up.

“Mind your place!” He yelled and she found the slither of confidence retreat back deep inside. He looked at the floor. “Look at this mess . . .” He met her eyes and smirked. “Clear it up.” He turned to walk away but she couldn’t help it.

“Why bring him up?! What’s the point?!”

He paused across the room and turned to her. “Did you love him?” He asked.

She swallowed, knowing the answer. “No. No I didn’t.”

He chucked. “Then what was the point?”

She watched him move over to the bed and jump onto it fully clothed, his boots leaving large mud stains on them. She looked at the floor and tried to arrange her thoughts.

Dust-pan and brush for the mug, cloth of the liquid.

She set to work but felt silent tears slip down her face and couldn't even see what she was doing.

So she abandoned the brush and moved to the sink to dress her arm. It was started to burn now as the sensation cut into deeper and deeper layers of skin.

She hissed against the cold water and unfortunately regained Hal’s attention. 

“What are you doing?”

“Fixing my arm!” She said with a little too much tone. She closed her eyes knowing she’d just restarted the argument.

“If I need to tell you to mind your place one more time I’m gonna hit the roof.”

“Oh really Hal? Is that what we’re doing now? Blatant threats?”

“Well even those don’t seem to get through to you!” He was on his feet again storming over to her. When he was in front of her he spoke. “Say one more fucking word.” He challenged.

She stayed silent for a moment. “Fuck you!” She spat.

His hand met her throat and her lower back bashed painfully against the sideboard, hard enough to bruise in a few hours. She hit his wrist with the heel of her palm in an attempt to budge him but it didn't work. She puffed a strangled breath and he frowned. “You stink of weed! Are you high?! No wonder you’re being even more of a bitch than usual!” He slid her across the sideboard and to the floor where she skidded in the now clod water and smashed ceramic cutting the back of her arms that weren't covered by tee shirt. “I thought you were off drugs.” He said.

She froze. That was a key part of her plan. He couldn’t know she was off the cocaine. “No, what made you think that?”

“When was the last time you had a bump?”

She leant up. “The other week?”

“Liar.”

He walked up to her and sent his boot into her stomach.

She cried out again and crippled into herself, whimpering, not paying attention to where Hal was or what he was doing before he was sat on her chest pulling the arm that wasn’t burnt between his legs. “I can’t force you to snort and I can’t force you to smoke. You’ll just throw up the fucking water if I force that down your throat so what does that leave us with, Percie?” 

“No!” She shouted as she realised exactly what she was doing. “No, no! Stop! Please!”

She wriggled as hard as she could before he slapped her hard across the face and she whimpered, completely giving in.

He didn't even need to slap her arm to get a vein and, being a sadistic bastard, he didn’t stop the blood flow. He just jabbed the needle right into the vein in her forearm and gave her a nice big hit of the drug she’d been craving so much.

Broken and defeated, knowing she had minutes before the point of no return, she went limp and obeyed when he told her to get on the bed.

Chapter 4

[pubtheatres1]

INTERVIEW WITH PAUL CLAYTON THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR by JOE ORTON The Hope Theatre, Islington, 29 Jan – 16 Feb 2019 Interview with Paul Clayton on his experience as an actor and directing THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR Paul Clayton is an RSC actor to the core. He has immense presence, a rich timbre to his powerful voice and his knowledge of theatre goes right to the bone. Most recently Clayton has been appearing in Holby City and The Split on BBC1. He is in the new Alan Partridge series with Steve Coogan and has filmed a guest lead in the new series of Shakespeare and Hathaway for release in 2019. With such a busy schedule it’s surprising that he’s fitting in directing Joe Orton’s THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR at The Hope Theatre January 2019. It is fitting that Clayton who is patron of The Hope Theatre, should be directing a play from the short body of work written by Orton. Orton lived and breathed in Islington, where his main haunts were along Upper Street. In 1967, his lover, Halliwell, murdered Orton (aged 34) before committing suicide. Whilst the Hope theatre isn’t particularly a gay venue, Clayton says frankly that “we know from the diaries of Orton’s sexual exploits which would have included areas not far from The Hope”. This is not the first time Clayton has directed an Orton play. Clayton (61) has an extensive career in television, film and theatre. Clayton made his first stage appearance for 10 years in BRIMSTONE AND TREACLE at The Hope Theatre for which he was nominated for an Off-West End award for Best Actor. Now, he is re-emerging as stage director. “The whole thing about directing has changed. Theatres used to ring you up and ask what you are doing next season” says Clayton. “You could cherry pick what you would like to do and who you would like to do it with - who are the names?” During the 90s and noughties Clayton was doing a lot of corporate. In 2007 he joined PEEP SHOW and the acting took off again. “Suddenly people wanted to get you in the room. I was Rather lucky to do five series over ten years”. Meanwhile, he continues to work in the corporate event world, most recently, four in a row for McDonalds. “Thanks to a wonderful team, at the end of one business meeting, 3,000 people got to their feet and applauded; that’s a show for business, to be able to turn it into something emotional” recounts Clayton with a measure of understandable pride. It’s this work which enables him to do something like RUFFIAN. Fringe theatre is notoriously strapped for cash. Fringe theatre is very important to Clayton. “We all did it, because it was there. Now it’s a key part of your career plan and it enables actors with creating a project they’re passionate about.” Therefore, when AD Matthew Parker invited him to be patron of The Hope Theatre, he was keen to support and help. “It’s really vital that places like The Hope are there to let young people find a space for their ideas and that’s what I love about it.” At The Hope theatre there are the Sunday and Monday slots for those people who cannot commit to a full 3 week run. Sitting in this elegant restaurant chosen by Clayton, he fits in rather well. He looks dressed by Saville Row, with Italian grooming and the staff know him by name. His presence could easily be that of a lawyer in court, confident and assured. So, in one of those theatrical reversals, it’s fun to know that, he is the one who coaches lawyers, in one of his corporate role play jobs on how to pitch. This is not so far from the rehearsal room where Clayton’s job is to make suggestions. “The actor takes that suggestion and makes it his own. You don’t tell people what to do but you open up possibilities for them and they are surprised by what they’ve achieved. That’s when it works at its best” The thing he most enjoys about directing is “being in room with actors but not doing the acting myself.” He loves “creating an environment”. One of his favourite directing jobs was on COMEDY OF ERRORS at Nottingham playhouse in 1994. “In a room for 4 weeks with 12 actors, and a 400-year-old play that had the audience rolling about. After four weeks of rehearsals it gets to be hard work but when the whole theatre roars with laughter, I think Oh! My god it works, it works! I’ve been lucky enough to play comedy. The sugar lump of the laugh” Clayton read Orton before he saw any productions. “Primarily the things I love about Orton, is that he’s naughty and funny. There is that sense of wanting to shock and yet at the same time an understanding of being an outsider and loneliness in all of the plays. There are facets of him in them. The young men in Loot, the title character in Entertaining Mr Sloane, and even the bell hop in What The Butler Saw. In the mid 70s The Royal Court did a season of three Orton plays, one directed by Lindsay Anderson. Clayton remembers queuing for tickets. Clayton has a clear understanding of Orton’s language and is a stickler for getting it right. He explains how important it is to be true to the writing. In his final year at drama school he had to do a bad play. Lord Arthur Savile's Crime by Constance Cox based on an Oscar Wilde short story. “Our director knew all about stage business, double takes, slow burns … picking up a glass” but in this play Clayton had to use devices to make the dialogue interesting. Clayton demonstrates the line “I was walking to the church at half past two and I saw Mrs Yates”. He explains that if he breaks after the words ‘half past two’, what follows seems much weightier. Clayton’s face takes on an ironical smile - “It’s sometimes naughty and I’d do it in Shakespeare”, he says under his breath. But Clayton insists this cannot be done in Orton. “You cannot put naturalistic pauses and para linguistics into an Oscar Wilde script and Orton is the same. You have to honour the script, it’s the gift of epigrammatic language. If a young actor can handle this dialogue, he can forget the acting and make it work, and make it funnier, just by the delivery of it.” The language is not necessarily naturalistic. “Wilde gave everyone an archness” explains Clayton. “Orton relishes and uses that”. He gives an example: Fay : Have you known him long? Hal: We shared the same cradle. Fay: Was that economy or malpractice? Whilst Clayton jokes that he might find his inner Ivo van Hove or Robert Icke, both taking theatre in radically different directions, he will be bringing the weight of all his experience as an actor. He has been very cautious with casting, two of the actors he has worked with before and he prefers to trust in the casting director and see only the most likely candidates. He uses an analogy: “I don’t like a menu that has 30 choices because it gets in the way of me eating. I like a really nice restaurant with 3 or 4 entrées rather than a café with 30 choices … and everything with chips”. He prefers to spend a bit more time working with the actors. He has an idea of what he’s looking for and where to find it, but he keeps an open mind because he’s sometimes surprised. THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR is a play that is not done very often. It’s an early piece written originally for radio and adapted for the stage by Orton. “It’s a microcosm of what he then goes on to use as a prototype for what becomes ENTERTAINING MR SLOANE” says Clayton. Clayton thinks that he’s clearly influenced by Pinter. “It’s similar to Pinter’s THE ROOM. It’s really a Comedy of menace. Things are not always what they seem to be. There’s also a resemblance to Pinter’s pauses, although …” Clayton adds “there’s a bit in Orton’s diary when he says actors shouldn’t pause”. Clayton is enjoying the journey of the piece. “What you think you see at the beginning is not what you see at all. What you saw and what is committed are two different things. The story peels back. We think we’re watching a woman being terrorised by a man when her partner/husband is away and possibly that’s not what we’re seeing”. Clayton is clearly impressed with the script and its secrets. His assistant director has arrived at the restaurant, auditions are being held and rehearsals start soon. The excitement is palpable. Paul Clayton was interviewed by Heather Jeffery, Editor of London Pub Theatres Magazine. THE RUFFIAN ON THE STAIR is at The Hope Theatre, Islington, 29 Jan – 16 Feb 2019, Box Office http://www.thehopetheatre.com/productions/the-ruffian-on-the-stair/