#just in case I really am seen as a wretched miserable thing

[mayonaisalspray]

Really. Do I really have to be self aware of my behaviors on a Thursday night

[neroushalvaus]

I wanna ask you an important (not really) question, but don't feel like you have to answer.

Javert in epilogue Heaven: yes or no? Is he in hell or purgatory maybe?

Hey, as far as I am concerned, this is an important question ;D This is actually a discussion I have cared enough about to give a whole ted talk about it in my friends' musical theatre podcast (sadly the episode is in Finnish). But yeah, my opinion is a very definitive "yes".

Because I know people have conflicting views about this, I hope you don't mind me explaining myself, I don't want to end up on people's "bad les mis takes" blocklists before I get to justify my case.

So, when we talk about Heaven in the context of Les Mis, we can't ignore the fact that Les Mis as a musical and as a book holds Christian values. If we look at the main theological themes present in the book, it preaches hospitality, grace and forgiveness (and also liberation theology even though it wasn't called that back then but we are keeping it simple). That's why "Javert can't go to Heaven because he was a bad person" doesn't work for me, even though I absolutely agree that he is. If Javert is not in Heaven, I think having Javert's Suicide mirror Valjean's Soliloquy is a bad decision. The bishop shows Valjean kindness, Valjean looks within and Valjean gets a new life; Valjean shows Javert kindness, Javert looks within... And? I think it makes narrative sense that Javert gets a new life, even if it is after death.

Another argument I have seen is "Javert wouldn't want to be in the epilogue, there is a barricade there", and I don't agree with that either. Like. I don't think it's a literal barricade, it is a metaphor for how the equal world the Amis wanted exists after death. I'm not saying it's not a bittersweet ending – I think Karl Marx would absolutely hate it –, but that's what it is. It's not a very revolutionary ending. For what it's worth, I don't think the literal character of Enjolras would actually be comfortable singing about how everyone will be equal once they're dead and that's fine. It only works if the barricade is a metaphor.

Aside from being Heaven, I think the epilogue has two purposes; to gather all the characters on the stage once more, and to give the audience some catharsis. This is why I think Javert should be there, and in fact, I think every character in the show should be there. The book and the show are called Les Misérables for a reason, every character in it is wretched and has been left behind by society. The musical is pretty vague about Javert's wretchedness, but I think he reveals just enough for the audience to see that this is a miserable bastard and if he were to sing in the end with the others, that would bring the audience some catharsis. Especially seeing him together with everyone the society he has served has harmed, and he himself has harmed. I personally would really like that. "We will walk behind the plowshare, we will put away the sword. The chain will be broken and all men will have their reward". I also like how that would prove Javert wrong. As he sings in Stars, he thinks that "those who follow the path of the righteous shall have their reward"; then he, in his own mind, fails to follow that path; and he gets in Heaven, where everyone who has suffered in their life will be rewarded, no matter the bad things they did. Not to quote the book too much, but "This door does not demand of him who enters whether he has a name, but whether he has a grief. You suffer, you are hungry and thirsty; you are welcome".

I think that would be the correct way to end this musical. The ending may not be revolutionary, but at its best it is cathartic, hopeful and gentle. So in my opinion it should be as gentle as possible.

[wisteria-lodge]

Bird vs Lion (Javert vs Valjean)

I've been wanting to annotate this scene for ages, because it's SUCH a good example of a really loud Lion primary (Valjean) and a really loud Bird primary (Javert) just being... unable to communicate. And since everyone is reading Les Mis right now, I thought this would be a good time.

So. Inspector Javert has just arrested Fantine, who has insulted Valjean (in the guise of Mayor Madeleine) on her way into custody.

***

“Sergeant!” [Javert] shouted. “Can’t you see this hussy [Fantine] is making off! Who told you not to let her go?”

“I did,” said Madeleine. (...) 

It was obvious that Javert had been ‘knocked through a loop,’ as they say, to have allowed himself to say what he did to the sergeant after the mayor’s invitation to set Fantine free (...) Had he wound up telling himself that it was not possible for any person of authority to have given such an order and that Monsieur le maire must certainly have said one thing when he meant another altogether? Or else… did he tell himself that it was necessary to resort to extreme measures… and that, in this dire extremity, law and order, morality, governance, society as a whole, were personified in himself, Javert? 

Whatever the case, when Monsieur Madeleine let out that “I did” we heard a moment ago, the inspector of the police was seen to turn towards Monsieur le maire, pale, cold, his lips blue, his eyes desperate, his whole body shaking with a barely perceptible tremor, and he was heard to say something unprecedented: “Monsieur le maire, that can’t be done.” 

Poor Javert is having two equally important parts of his system collide here. ‘Respect all authority figures’ and ‘punish all criminals.’ In this moment, he can’t find a way to do both simultaneously, and it’s sort of breaking his brain. 

“How’s that?” said Monsieur Madeleine.

Madeleine (Valjean) does not get what his problem is.

“This wretched woman insulted a gentleman.” 

She broke the Law! (Objectively true.)

“Inspector Javert,” Monsieur Madeleine replied in a calm, conciliatory tone, “listen. You are an honest man, so I don’t mind spelling things out clearly for you. It’s like this. I happened to be crossing the square as you were carting this woman away. There were still people milling around, I asked a few questions and I found out the truth: it is the gentleman that was in the wrong, and if the police were doing their job, he should have been arrested.” 

The lady only technically broke the law, for understandable reasons. 

She broke the Law!!!!!!!!!

Javert could not stop himself: “This miserable creature just insulted Monsieur le maire.” 

She insulted you, the mayor, a symbol of authority. It is a VERY important part of my system that authority figures need to be respected for society to function.

“That’s my business,” said Monsieur Madeleine. “My insult is mine, if you like. I can do what I like with it.” 

I’m not personally upset about it, I don’t see why you care. 

“I beg Monsieur le maire’s pardon. The insult is not his, it belongs to the system of justice.”

She must be made an example of. People can NOT be allowed to get away with this, especially not to a symbol of authority/structure/governance. No matter how much you PERSONALLY may not be bothered by this specific incident, she MUST be made an example of or others will follow suit and the morals of society begin to crumble. How can you, a man such as yourself, not understand this? You sir. The mayor who has done so much for this town and whom I respect for both his accomplishments and authority? Do my eyes and ears betray me? Surely they must?"

“Inspector Javert,” replied Monsieur Madeleine, “the highest form of justice is one’s own conscience. I’ve heard the woman out. I know what I’m doing.” 

EXCUSE ME? What? No. Why would you think that? That's not how any of this works.

“And I, Monsieur le maire, don’t know what I am seeing.” 

*brain is broken* 

“Then make due with obeying.” 

I don’t know what your deal is. Do you need direct orders to respond to or something? (Valjean is very Badger secondary, you can see it start to kick into gear here, he’s trying to find ANY way to communicate with Javert.) 

“I’m obeying my duty. My duty tells me that this woman should do six months behind bars.” 

I am REMINDING you of the law, which you ALSO have a responsibility to. 

Monsieur Madeleine responded gently: “Listen to me carefully. She will not do a single day.” 

… I feel that the law is wrong. 

At these decisive words, Javert risked a glare at the mayor and said to him, though in a tone of voice that was still scrupulously respectful: 

because you still must RESPECT AUTHORITY

“It causes me despair to go against Monsieur le maire, this is the first time in my life, but he will deign to permit me to observe to him that I am within the bounds of my responsibilities. I will confine myself, since Monsieur le maire wishes it, to the case of the citizen in question. 

He's changing the way he perceives Valjean in that quick, dramatic way Birds do. The Mayor is SUPPOSED to be on the side of Law, just like Javert... but has let him down. And Javert (under stress) is just going to get even more icy and even more polite. 

Valjean (under stress) gets angry.

“I was there. This girl threw herself at Monsieur Bamatabois, who is a voter and the owner of a magnificent house with a balcony on the corner of the esplanade, three stories, all in hewn stone. At the end of the day, some things count for something in this world.” 

We’re starting to get more of a sense of Javert’s system here. People have roles/symbols/functions in society, which must be respected if society is to stay intact. (Also, Victor Hugo was obsessed with architecture, and you can tell that he’s a Bird primary who… absolutely identified with Javert, which is honestly probably why he comes down so hard on Javert in the text.) 

“Anyhow, Monsieur le maire, this matter is a case for the street patrol and so it concerns me, and I am holding this woman, Fantine.” 

The structures that I believe in say that this situation is the responsibility of the Law. Stop getting in the way of my duty to enact this vital societal function. (I respect you a whole lot less than I did five minutes ago.)

At these words Monsieur Madeline folded his arms and said in a harsh voice that no one in town had ever yet heard: “The case you are talking about is a matter for the municipal police. By the terms of articles nine, fifteen, and sixty-six of the code of criminal law, I am the judge of it. I order this woman to be set free.” 

Oh screw you. If you want letter of the law I will GIVE you letter of the law. (This is one of the places where aggressive Bird secondary model Valjean shows up. He *knows* how to do his job.)

Javert struggled to make one last stand. "But Monsieur le maire -” 

Valjean just threw the book at him, and the book is holy. There’s not much Javert can do here. Valjean might as well be quoting Bible verses. 

“Let me refer you to article eighty-one of the law of December 13, 1799 on arbitrary detention.” 

Yeah. I’m not going to waste time with you. 

“Monsieur le Maire, allow -” 

“Not another word.” 

I’m pissed now. 

“But - ”

“Not another word” 

I’m PISSED now.

Javert took the blow standing, full on and bang in the chest like a Russian soldier. He bowed practically to the ground to Monsieur le maire, and left.  

And Javert ends the scene experiencing a contradiction in his System that is physically painful for a bird as rigidly dedicated as he is. Honestly a huge part of the tragedy of this guy is that a fix-it is *so plausible.* Javert is so earnest, and tries so hard, and you get the impression that if he had a few more interactions like this he might have been able to transform his system into something more elastic.

[thekingofworems]

WHY HELLO MY SUBJECTS 💜

It is I, your beloved King Nico, King of Worm on a String and all things silly and goofy

First off, let's go over the basics: Name, Pronouns, all that jazz. I am nothing if not transparent-

My name is Nico, duh

Old enough (16-20), creepos can gtfo🖕🏾

I'm poc (African American)

He/It/Xe

I love art; traditional, digital, photography, music!! I sing, though I haven't posted anything here, it's really just for fun. Y'all have seen my traditional stuff tho!

I really like Worm on a String, obviously and have one of my own! His name is PaperTowel and he is my ✨son✨ as well as my most loyal companion! He's always featured in my drawings<3

I have ADHD and ASD! I tend to take a lot of things literally most of the time, so please be patient with me and use tone tags if you can remember to!

Also an intense obsession with Cryptid College, an ongoing comic on Webtoon and Tumblr by @internetwerewolf and @electrosweaters-arts ! I love these guys and their characters, so silly

I don't usually read but damnit Tumblr you've gotten me mixed into it again

I have a few sideblogs!! Please interact w my ask blog for Jascha I love him so much

@dontstoptalkingaboutgaza , @nicolaigraevestoun , @a-miserable-wretch , @muriel-is-my-pookie , secret nsfw one if you can find it‼️

Which leads to my next point, the books/series' I like!

Please tell me if I spell an author's name wrong!

I've finished reading -

Percy Jackson and The Olympians

Heroes of Olympus

Trials of Apollo (first 2 books)

Frankenstein: Alive, Alive!

Frankenstein - Mary Shelley

Yeah yeah, I know it's not much

I'm currently reading -

Dracula - Bram Stoker

The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde - Robert Louis Stevenson

The Burning Maze - Rick Riordan

Once again, not a lot but ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

I'm planning to read -

The Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas

Treasure Island - Robert Louis Stevenson

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Oscar Wilde

The Odyssey - Homer (MAYBE)

The Invisible Man - H. G. Wells

The Tyrant's Tomb, The Tower of Nero - Rick Riordan

Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard

And last but not least: Boundaries!!

DNI

Racist

Transphobic

Homophobic

Ableist

anti-Semitic

MAP

If I am to find out you are or support any of the above you will be blocked and reported. Cuz fuck that🤢

That's pretty much it, hopefully now you've gotten to know me better! I'm glad I get to interact with all you beautiful people on this hellsite

~ With love, shenanigans and general Wormy Hijinks,

His Majesty, Nicolai

[keepingupwithpotters]

the kids are (not) alright

third week on @efkgirldetective 's summer of jily 🎡🎡🎡

carnival +we’re getting good at this

Warning for throwing up bcs its a rite of passage and we're goin traditional in this bitch

James retches one more time in the bushes.

He can feel a hesitant hand tapping his back methodically between his dry heaves, too awkward to be comforting. He hopes he didn’t get his vomit on their shoes, that would only make things more uncomfortable for both of them.

Children’s screams thrum in his head as he straightens up. He is afraid to make a sudden move in fear of upsetting his stomach once again, trying not to look down in case he sees what he ate today on the ground.

The owner of the hand clears their throat slightly, prompting him to face the music. An apology is already formed on the tip of his tongue before he turns his back, eyes squeezing shut to save him from some of the embarrassment.

“I am so sorry that you had to witness this.”

He opens his eyes when he hears a snort, the face in front of him belonging to a girl around his age, looking conflicted between being grossed out or amused (which is fair). “Don’t worry, you are certainly not the first person puking his guts out I’ve seen today.”

She hands him a bottle of water with some napkins. “Is that what you do then? Do you go around helping out nauseated blokes? Not that I don’t appreciate it, really, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but I didn’t come to help you.” His confusion must be reading off from his face because she explains herself. “You just appeared out of nowhere behind my stall and started gagging.”

The said stall in question is visible behind her, now that he’s taken the time to look at anywhere beyond the beautiful girl. He curses his luck for the thoughtless hurling location, mortification rising inside him with the thoughts of his earlier actions.

“I– I’ll help you clean it up. Here, I’ll pay for the water and the napkins too.”

She waves his offered money away, a mischievous smile appearing on her face. “So, what finally did you in? Was it the gallopers? The teacups? Or did you just eat one too many fried items?”

He grimaces. “Nothing of the sort. Just some good ole sympathetic vomiting.”

“Piss off.” She looks deadly serious. “You’re aware you’re in a fair, right?

“I wasn’t expecting this much,” he mumbles pathetically, a flush rising under his neck at her stare.

“Well, don’t turn your back right now then.”

His face blanches when he hears the voices coming from behind him. She looks far too happy by his misery.

“I don’t know what you’re so giddy about. It’ll be both of our problems if I have another go at it right now.”

“Pretty sure I didn’t agree to that.”

“Nonsense, we’re a team now.”

Her eyes glint merrily, foretelling the smile that’s coming. “I want a refund. Where are your friends so you can become their problem?”

“Oh, they betrayed me a long time ago. Something about ferris wheels being for couples only, and nobody liking a third wheel.”

“That’s a nice sob story.” She’s positively gleeful now. “Too bad you had already ruined all your chances in the first five minutes, or I would’ve felt sad for you.”

“I think I’m still pitiful enough. Wouldn’t that at least get me your name?”

“You’re lucky I’m in a giving mood today.” He swallows the joke rising to his lips with her retort. “It’s Lily. You can try to work your way up to a number too, but I can’t promise any more generosity.”

Before he can answer her, a customer appears. The little boy looks like he is on a sugar high with no chance to come down, hands and mouth sticky with something pink. Lily fills the paper bag good naturedly with his choice of sweets, smile never leaving her face. She is smart enough to not take the money from his hand directly though and waits for him to place it on the stall instead.

The smile turns devious when she faces him. “Don’t I get to hear your name too? I already know you’re a miserable third wheel who ate too many chips today.”

“See, normally I would’ve kept it a mystery, but I’m afraid of what kind of nickname you can come up with these two facts.” She opens her mouth to tell him exactly what she came up with, but he cuts her off quickly. “It’s James. And I will get that number.”

“Cocky words for a guy who first got the name with pity.”

“Well thankfully, being pathetic is not my only characteristic.”

“Yes, I can see being dramatic is right up there too.”

James wants to answer her, he really does, but he makes the mistake of looking above Lily’s shoulder. He can see the little boy who just bought candies from Lily crouching down, holding his knees, making those wretched sounds. Bile rises up in his throat.

“Fuck, not again, James. Do you have to sympathize with every child you see?” She is fast enough to hand him a plastic bag this time.

His voice comes out muffled with his head in the bag. “I think we’re getting good at this.”

The soothing hand stops its up and down motion to thump him on the back.

He gives himself more time to breathe before speaking again. “I’d say I have suffered enough now. So… how about that number?”

[hammeredalcoholic]

my only friend

kira yoshikage / reader ;

rating: mature, no 18+ content yet ; kira & reader are portrayed as 18 years old ; tension at the end of chapter

here is chapter 2! link to chapter 1. hope you guys enjoy this, i am falling back in love with writing this thing. cross posted to ao3.

here is a spotify playlist to go with this fic.

“you've been riding two wheelers all your life it's not like i'm asking to be your wife i wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say is this coming off in a cheesy way?”

The skies were covered in clouds, smoldering and dark, threatening to spill rain at any time. The air was chilly, causing goosebumps to line your arms and make the hairs on your neck stand up. Fall was just upon you, the summer months had passed within seconds it seemed. Not that you really cared-- autumn was beautiful, bringing colored trees and pretty sunsets. 

Your shoes scuffed against the concrete you sat upon, your fingers barely holding onto a lit cigarette. You really ought to quit-- but the high of nicotine was just too much to give up. The taste of tobacco on your tongue was all you tried to focus on, but it was hard. 

Hard when you sat outside of a dingy apartment, of a person you didn’t know, waiting for your companion to take their miserable life. 

This was normal. You’d go a few days on the road, staying at whichever place you could, before Yoshikage started to feel the urges, as he called them. He had said it once before to you, and it was something that you hadn’t been able to quite let go. 

“I just-- can’t help it,” His words were soft, and small. His hands were fidgeting in his lap, ghosting over the frayed edges of his baby blue sweater. “I can’t control myself when I get this way. It’s just that it’s in my nature to kill.” 

Kira’s eyes were hidden behind his blond bangs, deep and dark and full of sorrow. He couldn’t help that he was this way, despite the fact that he wanted to live a quiet life. He didn’t want to be a bother on others, but it seemed like he had just dug himself in a hole. 

Your mind jumped from that memory to another. The phone call. The one that changed your life drastically. 

3:31 AM flashed on your alarm clock. The landline was ringing, practically jumping off your bedside table. Who the hell would need to call you right now? All of Morioh should be asleep-- your hand reached for it, gently picking it up off the receiver and holding it to your ear. 

“Hello?” 

A shaky voice was on the other end. Distant and gravely-- barely speaking above a whisper. 

“D-Did I wake you up? I-I’m so sorry,” He sounded awful. Hiccups between every word, and you were positive he had been crying. “Yoshikage-- What happened? What’s going on?” 

Yoshikage Kira had never sounded like this. He sounded so broken-- like a glass vase shattered across a concrete floor. There was a small hiccup, and a breathy sigh on the other end. “I made-- I made a big mistake. I need your help.” 

A big mistake? What the hell did that mean? 

“Can you please meet me at Reimi Sugimoto’s house? You know where that is right?” He sounded even more desperate with each passing second. Yes, you did know where she lived-- it was on your walking path to and from school everyday. It should only take you about 5 minutes to get there, if you booked it. 

“Yes, yes, okay. I’ll be there soon. Whatever you do, don’t run away.” With those words being said, the line was cut off. Quickly, and being as quiet as possible, you got some pants and a sweatshirt on, stuffing a pillow under your blankets to make it seem like you were still sleeping. Thinking semi-clearly, you grabbed a backpack and put some extra clothes and your trusted pocket knife inside. 

Slinging the bag over your shoulders, you grabbed your keys from your desk and slipped out of your room. This wasn’t the first time you had snuck out, so you knew each creak and cranny in the wooden stairs leading to the main entrance of your house. As quickly as you could, you slipped out of the house without a sound. 

You quickly bolted to your car that was slightly down the street, thanking your past self for the distance. Your parents wouldn’t hear the car start, or you driving off to save your friend. Hopping in and starting the engine up, you quickly left in the direction of the Sugimoto residence.

Screams were faint in your ears. 

Deciding that another cigarette was inevitable, you quickly pulled it out of the pack and lit it. You could have waited in the car, but-- you didn’t want Yoshikage to get hurt. You wanted to be there for him until the very end, so there you sat, against the grimy brick wall, feeling all sorts of out of place. 

You let your mind drift again. 

Driving well over the speed limit, you made it there in less than 3 minutes. From the outside of the house, it didn’t look like much had happened. The lawn was normal, the house the same as when you had driven past yesterday. That was until you noticed him-- a figure, clad in a pale blue sweater, sitting on the front steps of the building. 

His hands, covered in his sleeves, were pressed firmly against his face. If it hadn’t been in the middle of the night, you would have been able to make out the bright red stains that coated his clothes. Quickly pulling the car to the side of the road, you got out without a second guess. 

Quickly rushing up to the boy, you stopped only feet away from him. 

“Yoshi… What-- What happened?” Blood. Blood on his sleeves-- his pants-- his hair. Fuck, his face was even coated in it. His hands dropped from his face, and he looked up at you with wide, cold-dead eyes. They were bright red and puffy, telling that he was sobbing his eyes out only moments previously. 

“I-- I made a mistake.” Kira’s voice was only a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening, you would have thought it to be the midnight wind. “What mistake?” You pressed, stepping closer to the seated boy. 

“I-- I,” Yoshikage stuttered, before tears lined his eyes. “I killed them.” He spoke so softly, before looking at his blood stained hands. “I killed them.” He stated, louder, looking up at you again. “I killed her parents. Her dog. And then-- her.” His voice was shaking, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks. “I don’t-- I don’t know what to do.” 

You stared at him in disbelief. He-- Yoshikage Kira, the boy that grew up with you, silent but friendly, playing with only you throughout elementary, hanging out with you during middle school and high school-- your best friend. He had killed someone. Not someone, multiple people. 

Fist shaking at your sides, chills running up your spine, sweat practically dripping from your temple. 

You had a choice to make. 

Leave him, let him get caught-- probably executed. Or--

“I’ll help you. Let’s go.” 

You’ve never seen Kira’s eyes light up like that before. Bright blue, even in the pale moonlight. They were so blue, you swore you could have gotten lost in them. That’s your favorite part of the memory, thinking back on the relief he must have felt. It sent warmth through your body, butterflies floating in your stomach. 

You knew, despite how much you question your own motives now and again, you wouldn’t be able to leave Kira. He’s been a staple in your life, much like you must have been to him. Why would he ask you for help if that wasn’t the case? 

The skies had grown dark as you were reminiscent, and your stomach growling had alerted you that it might not be a bad idea to get some food. Glancing at the door to the apartment, you briefly wondered if Yoshikage would even notice if you left. But, then again, he might be hungry too. You weighed your options, and decided it would be best to just ask him. 

Getting up to your feet, you flicked the butt of your cigarette over the railing of the complex. Your feet tingled with sleep, and your fists clenched as you stared at the awful wooden door. Your mind ran a million miles an hour, going through several thoughts about what he could possibly be doing behind that wretched piece of wood. 

Just as you were about to knock on the door, it opened. 

Kira stood there, eyes wide when he noticed you standing in front of him. He was absolutely drenched in blood-- his sweater was stained, khakis barely recognizable. His face and hair were also decently covered. His eyes quickly darted to his ruined chucks, and he spoke very softly. 

“I-- I’m done.” 

You let out a quick sigh of relief, and decided not to question him. “Well if that’s the case, how about we go get some food and find a place to clean you up?” Kira didn’t say anything, just nodded. With that, you both left the apartment complex. 

As the night went on, you both decided that getting some fast food and trying to find a laundromat was in order. You were rather thankful for the dark, as the person who took your measly ones at the burger joint didn’t even bat an eye at your companion’s appearance. 

Luckily, there was a laundromat just down the street. Pulling up and parking in the vacant lot, you both got out your burgers and ate in relative silence.

After downing your food in what felt like 3 bites, you looked over at your friend. He didn’t look like he was thinking about much-- his hands were steady, eyes somewhat glossed over from the food, and completely ignoring the fact that he was still very much covered in blood. 

“Do you feel better?” The words felt almost foreign on your tongue, despite feeling like you asked him this every single time. Kira looked over at you, swallowing the bite he was chewing before responding. “Yeah. I do,” He rolled up the remaining half of his sandwich in the wrapper, putting it back in the bag. “But I would like to clean up my clothes.” 

You snorted, grabbing your drink from the console and taking a few gulps. “I’m sure you would. It looks like it’s fairly empty in there, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.” You glanced at the clock in your car, and the bright red numbers informed you that it was well past midnight at this point. Kira must have noticed it too, and he began to get out of the vehicle. 

Doing the same, you pulled the bag of quarters you keep in the console out and stuffed them in your pocket. You followed Yoshikage inside, quickly turning and locking your car before entering the building. 

The place was very much run down-- old washing machines lined the dirty walls. Neon lights glimmered from outside, casting weird shadows across the floor. Kira kept walking to the back of the building, deciding to use the machines that were farthest from the windows. You followed him absentmindedly, hoping up on one of the machines and pulling out your little sack of change. 

Yoshikage’s eyes glanced at your before they went down to his feet, and he quickly shrugged off his baby blue sweater. You swore that thing had been through its life cycle already-- ever since he got it at the beginning of high school, it seemed to be the only article of clothing he wore. He threw it into the washing machine next to you, his hands going back up to unbutton his undershirt. 

At that point, you found it hard not to stare. 

Yoshikage Kira may have been your best friend from preschool to now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t attractive. Bright blonde curls and icy blue eyes-- along with a jawline that could surely cut glass. 

The coins in your hand quickly became your second priority, as your eyes lingered on each inch of skin he revealed. This wasn’t even your first time seeing him semi-nude-- he sleeps in the same bed as you most nights. But this-- this was different. 

Soon enough his button up was shrugged off and tossed in the washer, and you quickly averted your eyes to the coins you held in your palm. You were playing a very dangerous game, and you weren’t sure what Kira would do if he caught you looking at him like a piece of meat. 

As you tried to count the quarters that were needed for the machine to run, you heard your companion’s shoes be kicked off. Then, the sound of a button and fly being undone made your cheeks heat up within seconds. Your mind was doing mental backflips, going back and forth between looking, and keeping your eyes down. 

From the corner of your eyes, you saw his soiled khakis drop around his ankles, and he carefully stepped out of them, throwing them in the machine. 

“Hey. I need a dollar and twenty-five cents to start it.” His words practically made you jump, and you held out your palm with the money he needed. Kira easily noticed how flustered you were, and let his fingers linger in yours while he took the coins. Soon enough, the machine roared to life, and you heard Kira take a seat next to you. 

Swallowing your pride, you decided it wasn’t worth avoiding his gaze, so you looked over at him. 

His skin was almost glowing in the awful lighting of the building, collar bones prominent and his muscles were exceptionally toned. You felt your eyes linger on his hips, almost tracing the V shape that dipped into his boxer briefs. As soon as you realized what you were doing, your eyes immediately went up to meet his own. 

They had grown dark, silver pools watching your every move. A small smirk had formed on his lips, and you almost had to bite your lip from making any sort of noise. 

Your mind screamed at you to look away. Stop staring at him and just look at literally anything else. 

But then, something else happened that made your world turn upside down. 

Did he fucking wink?

[magma-cjay]

Lingering Fragments (cw: death, angst, implied suicide)

(foreword: ok MagmaCjay, you asked for it, don't say you weren't warned)

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They were all dead. Every single one of them.

With great effort Risotto staggered toward the headquarters, limping painfully, his right leg dragging, and barely attached to his body by Metallica's power alone. Torn nearly off and barely hanging on by a few strands of muscle and tendon, and the ability of his Stand.

He had barely escaped his encounter with the unassuming young boy. A boy whom he knew had ties to the Boss. Who had mistreated him and his team for far too long. Who he was a fool to have underestimated. But he was lucky to escape with his life. Especially when Bucciarati's team intervened.

If one can consider me lucky, by any definition, Risotto thought.

His whole team was gone. He was the last man standing. The rest of his men, his family, slaughtered like swine by Bucciarati's team, and for what? Hadn't they sought to betray the boss as well? Hadn't they sought the same goal? Weren't they two teams on enemy sides, yet united with a common enemy?

It was all so damn unfair.

It wasn't long until Risotto neared the Hitman Squad hideout, a small, shabby and unassuming apartment that lay secluded in the Italian suburbs. A place where he and his crew dealt their shady deals to survive and hid from the wrath of the Boss. A place that was what many would call the dark, ominous underground of Italy's streets, but was a shelter for his men and himself.

A place that was the closest thing he could call a home.

Barging into the door, blood pouring from his numerous wounds, Risotto stumbled painfully into the living room with a cry of anguish. A cry that echoed through the empty halls of the hideout and gradually warbled away into silence. A painful, deafening silence that hurt Risotto far more than Aerosmith's bullets ever could.

He collapsed heavily onto the kitchen table, breathing heavily and wincing in pain. His dark inky eyes darted down onto the table, which was empty, save for a newspaper, and a plate of long-stale crackers, which were beginning to attract ants from their time left unattended.

Risotto's heart sank like lead as the gravity of what those meant struck him harder than any blow from the Boss's stand. The newspaper was spread out at a crossword puzzle, the date: April 1st, 2001. Risotto wished this was all a fool's day trick, but the silence was all too real. All too agonizing to endure.

The crossword puzzle was half-finished, with angry scribbles and incorrect answers that Risotto recalled too well. Of the angry hollers of Ghiaccio, as he struggled to comprehend words, while Formaggio mocked him playfully for his incompetence while snacking on the table.

Now the remnants of Formaggio's last meal lay untouched, as if silently awaiting their consumer. But there was none. Once wise-cracking, prank-pulling, now just a charred, cold corpse on a street somewhere. Would he at least be laid to rest by whoever found his body? thought Risotto. Or would he be left to rot, be picked away by rats and roaches like garbage? Like the garbage he had always been treated as, by the world, by society, by the very gang they had found themselves trapped in?

The unfinished crossword puzzle also brought Risotto little comfort. He had always loathed Ghiaccio's rambling, his angry ranting at the most trivial of things. But now Risotto ached for that irate voice. He would have given anything to hear that voice one last time. Not that Ghiaccio's throat, pierced right through the spine and out his windpipe, drowned slowly in his own blood by Giovanna and his gunman, would ever make another sound again.

Risotto glared at the crossword puzzle, and the one word that Ghiaccio had managed to fill. "An eight letter word synonymous with forever." 

Eternity.

Eternity. How painfully appropriate. Gone for eternity, never to be seen or heard from again. Forever. Just like the only family he ever had, with this one word, inked out in a sanguine red on the faded parchment, as if an ominous tiding of death.

The sight of these leftovers were too much for Risotto to bear, and despite the agony he heaved himself off the kitchen chair, stumbling to the living room and throwing himself onto the couch. His blood stained the faded, torn cushions, as he pressed his face into a pillow and muffled a scream. He breathed in through his nose, and caught a waft of a familiar scent. Prosciutto's cologne. His favorite pefume that he wore before...that mission. Risotto felt a lump in his throat.

Everywhere he looked, everywhere he went, the house was filled with little remains of everyday things, which like nails further hammered in the loss in his already wounded heart and soul. Scents. Sights. Sounds, or the lack thereof.

His knee accidentally pressed something hard on the sofa and with a static whirr the television came on. It was a dramatic soap opera currently on air. Melone and Illuso's favorite television show, featuring soppy tales of love and romance which they dutifully watched day after day, despite mocking jabs from Formaggio and Ghiaccio about their tastes in genre.

And now they will never know how the show ends. The last he had heard of Melone was a report from Ghiaccio claiming to have heard him scream on the phone and lose contact. And Illuso...was gone. Not just dead, but gone: vanished without a trace, melted into thin air, with not even a hair or piece of clothing to remind the world that he ever was.

Would anyone remember them? Would anybody even care?

They were just criminals to the world, weren't they? The scum of the earth, filthy, cold-blooded killers. They were the monsters of society, and to anyone else? They'd say they deserved to die.

But to Risotto, they were family. His family. His brothers in a way, who were all dragged in this horrid life by the cruel twists of fate. He'd wished to have escaped from the trappings of this mafia, but they were mired too deep into the quicksands of crime. He regretted deep inside having turned them into this life of a gangster. Especially Pesci. He was too young, too naive. He never deserved a life like this. He never deserved to see his big brother crushed under the wheels of a locomotive, and be torn apart alive shortly after by that damn Bucciarati's stand to spend his final moments in pain and terror at the cold, freezing abyss of a lake.

He despised himself at not having been able to save them. Of having failed to free them from the binds of this miserable existence. But it was too late. Since the day Sorbet and Gelato befell their dreadful end, he swore that he would lose no more further. But he did. One by one. And every single day, Risotto returned to find his home a little bit emptier.

Until there was none.

He was all alone in this cold, cruel, void, everyone he had ever cared about but a distant memory or a pallid lifeless corpse. There was nothing left for him. No one to turn to. Not even Formaggio's uplifting cracking jokes or Prosciutto's affectionate reassurance. He hated Giovanna and his allies for everything they did. If he could, he wanted to take their lives with his own bare hands, make them pay for the pain they wrought. But what would it bring him? Satisfaction? Justice?

There is no justice in this wretched world, Risotto thought bitterly. That's why I am here in the first place.

He could murder Giovanna and Bucciarati and the Boss for all he cared, but the damage was already done. Nothing he could do would bring back his family. They were dead, gone forever, and all of his efforts would have been in vain.

There was nothing left for him, but a future of emptiness.

Why did he have to suffer? What did he do to deserve all this? They were bad people who did bad things, but it wasn't their fault they were forced to become what they were. Risotto whimpered like a frightened child as he curled up on the bloodstained sofa, embracing himself tightly in a futile effort to make the pain go away, the pain of his body's wounds, and the agony that seared his soul like hellfire.

He wanted the pain to end.

A gleam caught his eye, down next to the sofa. Something black and shiny lay tucked against one side of the cushions It was Prosciutto's spare revolver, which he kept in good condition, and kept hidden away in case his original was lost or damaged if a mission went wrong.

It couldn't have gone more wrong.

Everything had gone wrong.

Their entire life had gone wrong.

With trembling hands and heaving breath Risotto reached out for the revolver and felt its cold, hard steel touch menacingly, and yet enticingly, to his stiff, shivering fingers.

Maybe this would make the pain go away.

For eternity.

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(afterword: yeah, told you this would get really depressing. i didn't know if Risotto would kill himself or choose to continue living, in which case he would just suffer all the more so yeah i never made a chapter two. oh well. sorry all you squadra fans for making you cry today)

[veliseraptor]

For the AU meme - an AU where Song Lan goes into the coffin house and reunites with Xiao Xingchen before Xue Yang comes back?

oh man. I feel like...realistically speaking this AU still ends with Xue Yang probably dead. Maybe not (probably not?) Song Lan and a-Qing, though, which...good? but still upsetting to me personally. so I’m going to see if I can construct an AU that feels believable-ish to me where that’s not the case! wish me luck.

so anyway! Song Lan reunites with Xiao Xingchen. presumably this means that he has not seen Xue Yang there at all? and perhaps a-Qing has not mentioned him. at any rate, there is Reunion! it’s emotional, I’m sure. and extremely awkward. but like. Song Lan is quick to apologize and be like it’s not your fault seriously Xingchen I was angry and grieving and said something stupid but I didn’t mean it and I’ve been looking for you and Xiao Xingchen is of course just like. that’s what he wants to hear! he needs that even if it isn’t easy to take and he probably doesn’t believe it right away! 

so they sit down together to catch up a little and Song Lan is like “so...this girl” and Xiao Xingchen is like “yes! a-Qing is wonderful, we met a several years ago and she’s been with me ever since, she stole my money when we first crossed paths isn’t that adorable :) :)” and Song Lan is like a) never change, Xingchen and also b) oh no, you haven’t changed

(he has, but it’ll take a bit to figure that out)

and he’s kind of trying to feel out, like, how Xiao Xingchen’s been, if he’s all right, and also what he’s doing in this absolutely awful place with its wretched feng shui, and Xiao Xingchen is, like, in kind of a giddy mood and just sort of rambling and is like “oh and soon my friend will be back! he’s getting groceries right now but he lives here too with me and a-Qing”

and Song Lan is like “I am not jealous. I am not jealous, this is fine, it’s good that Xingchen has company, it’s a good thing” though he is, maybe, a little tense about it, mostly because the way Xiao Xingchen lights up talking about this guy is. mmm well it’s something

and then. and then! said friend! shows up! basket of groceries in hand! and it’s just like. lock eyes from across the courtyard. 

Xiao Xingchen like “Chengmei, is that you? look, this is my friend, Song Lan” just smiling, he’s so happy

Song Lan like “what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck”

Xue Yang like “fuck fuck fuck fuck” and also very much wanting to rip Song Lan’s head off right now

a-Qing like. “well SOMETHING is happening here NOT SURE WHAT BUT IT DOESN’T FEEL GOOD” 

and everyone! has about two seconds to decide whether it is Fight Time or what, while Xiao Xingchen is trying to parse this sudden tense silence. and I am torn because this could go at least three different ways:

Xue Yang goes ‘fuck it, there goes my life’ and detonates the horrible bomb of the whole truth in the middle of it (which is the one that ends in at least him dead and possibly other people too) <-- unfortunately, probably most likely

Xue Yang is like “nice to meet you, person I TOTALLY DO NOT KNOW, HINT, HINT” and manages to fend off Song Lan spilling the beans prior to them having an aggressively whispered conversation about the appropriate course of action, Xue Yang manages to convince Song Lan that there is no reason to fuck this up for Xiao Xingchen! do you want to do that again, Zichen, do you really, we can totally make this coffin house of lies work as a threesome + a-Qing <-- probably least likely

Song Lan blurts out ‘SO HEY XIAO XINGCHEN YOUR ROOMMATE/NEW BOYFRIEND (??) IS XUE YANG DID YOU KNOW THAT’ and absolute chaos ensues, hopefully avoiding (multiple) murder mostly by the sheer power of Xiao Xingchen’s “what the fuck” levels?? idk how that works.

the actual best case scenario is probably one where the reveal about “oh hey you’ve been living with Xue Yang for three years, actually” happens while Xue Yang isn’t there, and Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan have a conversation about it that ends in Xiao Xingchen being like “listen I understand you would like to do a murder but I am kind of interested in at least getting an explanation first because I’m having a whole ass complicated feelings experience,” and then there’d need to be another whole conversation between Xiao Xingchen and Xue Yang without Song Lan present about that because...yeah, Xue Yang’s not going to say anything Emotionally Incriminating in front of an audience (we know he will for a Xiao Xingchen if he thinks there is any chance it might work!)

and then all three of them have to have a nonviolent talk possibly including arguments about how much/whether people can change and how much/whether it matters, actually, and Xiao Xingchen wrestling the absolutely lethal combination of his love for his apparently murder boyfriend and his guilt about what happened to Song Lan’s entire family because of him. his inclination to consequently go with whatever Song Lan wants (Xue Yang dead) is tempered also by Song Lan’s guilt about Xiao Xingchen’s sacrifice and his actions w/r/t Xiao Xingchen, so that kind of balances out to at least prevent any immediate death. provided Xue Yang can keep himself from poking Song Lan’s temper which is, admittedly, a pretty big ‘provided that.’

but there is some possibility, I think, that as long as the whole ‘you’ve been murdering innocents’ thing doesn’t come up, they could come to some kind of provisional working arrangement. Xiao Xingchen is invested in the idea of the last three years of his life not being a horrible lie, actually! I think he’d like to believe that they weren’t! Song Lan would like Xiao Xingchen to not be miserable and apparently Xue Yang dying would be upsetting to him, weird and bad but what can you do! Xue Yang really likes his domestic fantasy thank you and would rather not lose it to the harsh and cold reality of Xingchenlessness! they’ve all got a lot riding on this working.

I mean, then there’s a-Qing who is probably mostly like “just murder his ass already, it’s what I’ve been saying for years.” but she is, unfortunately, at least for the moment, being overruled.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Lettenhove Au

Part 1   Part 2

Oh how unreasonable.

“Dear did you finish those logging reports?” His mother stepped into the office. Head buried in a logistics report.

“Just did. Here.” He offered them to her but her eyes were stuck behind him.

On Geralt.

“You must be my son’s new bodyguard.” He watched Geralt hesitantly nod out of the corner of his eye. “I hadn’t expected you to be quite so…”

“Old?” He suggested for her. “You won’t offend him by being direct. He does have- oh what?- Half a century or so on you. It’s only fair.”

Her brow pinched. Her fingers rubbed together nervously as she glanced back to him. “Julian I know numbers aren’t your forte but he can’t be-“

They knew exactly the moment the gold in his eyes registered.

A tiny back step. Half a sharp inhale.

“A Witcher?” She looked at him. Hand covering her agape mouth. “How? How did you-“

He readied himself to explain when her eyes widened. “The white wolf.”

They both tensed as she rounded the desk to him.

She cupped his face in her hands. You are the man who kept him from me. You are the bastard he abandoned me for. He braced for her to say. As so many of the women in his life had.

“Thank you.” Her tears freezing Geralt more effectively than any spell he’d ever seen. “For protecting him all those years. Thank you.” Geralt eyes stayed locked on her. Trapped by her thin hands. “For bringing him home.”

He was halfway out of his chair he’d realized. He eased back down into it. Who he’d worried for he wasn’t sure.

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do.

“Julian!” His mother burst into the room. Letter in hand. “The Countess responded!”

Geralt looked up from his sword sharpening, hands stilling. Ciri shrunk behind him, further into the couch they’d settled into that night. It was honestly a relief for the too familiar noise to halt. It made the space behind his eyes hot. It’s steady rhythmic sound as horrible as it had once been calming.

They’d been moved into the servant’s quarters attached to his room in case someone came for him in the night.

He stood and seized her by the waist. Picking her up and spinning her, as he knew she wished he would for she was very excited, her dress billowing around her. The way Father had when he’d courted her all those years ago. She’d admitted to him once she missed it. It was one of the few things she missed about him.

What do you need? He’d asked. He knew how to play his role diligently.

“As I promised she would!” He smiled brightly for her. It was as fake as the rings that had dyed his fingers green years ago. But she didn’t know that.

“A Countess Julek! I’ve no idea how you managed this!” She was well above their class. But she’d loved him once. With a title she might love him again.

“What did I say?” He gently put her down and swept her into a waltz. It’s been so long since I’ve gotten to waltz. She told him.

“Trust me.” There were tears in her eyes. A brightness to her he couldn’t remember ever seeing.

He spun her. “I said I would take care of things.” Dipped her gently to the familiar tune in his head. It sounded flat even though he knew it was in tune. “Didn’t I?”

“You did!” Her steps faltered as she pulled him into a tight hug. It might have been bone crushing a decade or two ago. “Thank you for coming home.”

“Of course.” Geralt and Ciri watch him tuck her into his shoulder. He whispered above her grey hair. “I had nowhere else to be.”

I’ll spend my days so close to you cos if I’m standing here maybe.

“You’re getting married.” Geralt stated as the door closed behind her.

“That is the plan yes.”

“You’ll be miserable.”

And how, he thought, is that any different from how I am now?

Everyone will think I’m alright.

Court was easy. Simple.

Deadly. Dangerous.

It was just about saying the right thing. Listening. Not giving away too much.

“There are some rumors going around about you Julian.” She fluttered her eyes distractingly. Let her sleeve slip down just so. He’d seen it before. Hell he’d done it before.

That didn’t mean it didn’t work on him.

Or. It used to.

“About what happened to you after you disappeared.” She leaned in making a point to show off her assets.

The color of her dress was brilliant. Vibrant. His collar was buttoned all the way up. It didn’t actually make it hard to breathe but it still felt like it. He recognized the dye they must have used. It seemed less. Less everything.

Course the courts in Kerack hardly compared to the ones he’d played at so it was likely just. Less.

It had nothing to do with how dull the world seemed these days.

“I went to Oxenfurt. I hardly disappeared.” He flashed her a smile. Winked as he said, “And I’d be happy to show you what I learned.”

She giggled.

“What did you study?” Interjected her handler. Forcing distance between them with practiced ease.

He’d never been grateful for the restraints of court. How a hand touch outside of dancing was as scandalous as a long passionate kiss elsewhere.

He was grateful for it now.

“A variety of things. Geography was my favorite.” The textbook was big enough to hide a demijohn behind. “And I took to teaching for a few years.”

Her eyes glittered. “Did you ever see any of the places you learned about?” Whatever information she’d been told to gather forgotten to the wonder of the world beyond their logging forest and rocky coasts.

Or maybe this was what she wanted. The machinations of a country this small didn’t have to be terribly inspired.

“A few.” He granted. The back of his throat tensed. I went to the edge of the world and back before my eighteenth year. He didn’t say. “Any place in particular you were hoping to hear about?” He raised his glass for a drink.

“Are the blue mountains really blue?”

His cup paused at his lips. Golden eyes rested heavily on him from across the feast.

Posada sat at the feet of its range. Stretched up to Kaer Morhen and beyond.

“Yes.” He tried to cover for the stilted pause. Gave too much away he knew by the devilish look in her eye. “In the evening light the whole range turns the most beautiful blue I’ve ever seen.”

“What does Kaer Morhen look like?” He’d asked. Because he’d never seen it.

Would never see it.

“Big stone keep.”

“Oh come on! We both know you can do better than that!” He’d protested. “I want to know what its like!” Tell me what your home is like. He begged.

“What do you think of Lettenhove?” He asked as the carriage rattled down the road to their accommodations. His Mother had retired hours ago. What do you think about my birthplace? My unwilling home? My soon to be grave?

Geralt opened an eye. Considering him. Just like everyone at the party had. Just like everyone always did. Judging without seeing. He maintained his posture as the snow fell outside the window. He had a role to play.

“Seafood’s decent.”

Laughter bubbled in his throat. High and hysterical.

He swallowed it down.

“I suppose it is.” He told the falling snow. He did not think of the Blue Mountains covered in snow and the big stone keep he would never see buried within it.

I’ve seen enough he says. I know exactly what I want.

“Jaskier!”

There were hands on his shoulder and a knife to his throat and it was all pointless but he was still scared.

He was still scared.

There was gold and white filling his vision as his chest fought for air. He couldn’t breathe and he was going to die and gods.

Gods he was going to die.

And he was okay with it.

“Jaskier?” His face was wet as he sobbed. I was going to die and he was okay with that and that was the scariest part. Someone was moving him. Arranging his limbs and tucking him into the crook of their neck. “It was just a dream Jaskier.”

The dream slipped from his mind but the hollow in his chest didn’t. The violently terrible acceptance of his fate didn’t slip away.

Let’s run away. To the coast, to the blue mountains, to the end of the world. To Skellige even. I’d brave sea sickness for you. Let’s run away Geralt.

Think of your people ordered the ghost of his old man.

Life’s one blessing. Said the man cradling him in his arms.

Stay. Begged his Mother.

He curled into the embrace of the man who’d served as his home for two long decades. For half his life. The half of his life that had a home for.

Geralt was only here because there was no better option. Because a fool promised him a place to stay long ago and that fool wouldn’t break a promise. Not a promise to him.

Did you ever care for me at all? Or am I to you, as I am to everyone, a burden you’re too kind to put down?

No. Because Geralt had put him down. Now he was simply too desperate to step away.

“This is your fate Julian.” Rumbled the voice of his Father.

“I’ll find a better fate then.” He’d screamed back. “I’ll make a better one.”

He had.

“I want to go home.” He quietly admitted into the crook of Geralt’s neck. To the stars over the path and the grinding of a whetstone on silver or steel. To the crackle of a fire and pages filled with ink by its dying embers.

To raunchy laughter and shared bedrolls. Desperate dashes from terrible towns and angry cuckholds. To grumpy Witchers dunked in bathtubs, yanking knots from disgustingly tangled hair and quiet gifts of lute strings made from griffin guts slipping into his case while he slept.

“We’ll be back at the estate tomorrow.” Came the wretched assurance.

He sobbed. “I know.”

You couldn’t run away from fate. Not really.

It’s this life that we’d created, inundated with the fated thought of you

“Geralt said you used to play.” Ciri admitted to the bookshelves she’d been dusting. “He said you played wonderfully.”

“Did he?” He blankly responded. He could feel Geralt frowning at him.

You should have cheekily grinned at me. He could hear Geralt correcting. You should be making fun of me for liking your music but never admitting it to you. Then I could comment on how i didn’t want to feed your overgrown ego.

He checked the ledgers math on the abacus. Then did it again because numbers had never been his forte.

“He said,” She hesitated. Turned ever so slightly to watch him. “You were at my mother’s betrothal.”

Jaskier was. I wasn’t. An angry part of him snapped.

He took in the tight tension of her shoulders. The pointed dedication to a meaningless task.

I see you little swallow. I see you. “I was.” He glanced at the door. If someone overheard. He could avoid this if-

“Everyone’s asleep.” Geralt told him.

“Then,” He stood, weighted heavy by a story he had no desire to tell. “I suppose I owe you a story.” He smiled and offered his hand to her. “Since Geralt never tells it right.”

She took it and he pulled her into the ballad. Into the start of her tale.

Into the beginning of their stories end.

And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all, Like petals in a storm

He lifted her sleeping form from the couch, carrying her to bed.

“Thank you.” Geralt muttered from the doorway as he tucked her in.

He was so tired.

He nodded. Turned from the room.

Geralt caught him at the doorway. “Thank you.” He repeated.

He took in Geralt’s face as he stared at her. As he listened to her slow steady breathing. Sleeping comfortably and warm.

Ask to stay. He begged the hand holding his bicep. Ask me to come with you.

Tell me you want me. He plead. That what you said was a lie.

But he didn’t. Because he was looking at Ciri. At the best thing he’d ever done for Geralt.

At the little girl who was the end of the story they’d shared.

“You love her.” He told him. “Which I say only because I don’t think you know.” Geralt’s face hardened as it always did when faced with an uncomfortable truth about himself. “But you love her Geralt.”

If this was his fate then at least he’d done that.

He couldn’t save his people and he’d broken every relationship he’d ever made and he was going to die in a manor he hated all alone.

But at least he’d done this. At least he’d given Geralt Ciri.

At least he’d given the love of his life the love of his.

cos darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

[lost-eternity]

Matchup Requests *CLOSED*

This was done as a trade instead of a standard match up, hence why I am permitting it. :)

Matchup for @stormra​

okie dokie I match you with...

I have to admit, this was a bit of a difficult one. It was really between Charles Grey and Sebastian. And it was close. But a few small details caused me to lean towards Grey instead of Sebby. I’ll explain why later on.

First of all, your love languages mesh rather perfectly

Charles Grey’s (inflated) ego causes him to thoroughly enjoy the praise and affection you lavish upon him

He enjoys being treated as a prince and has no inclination to returning these affections

It’s a selfish love but weirdly enough, it works

He also doesn’t give enough craps to care for society or propriety to be embarrassed or ashamed of your advances

He is quite inept at displaying physical affection and his attempts are half-hearted at best

It’s that blasted ego again

But he does try. In his own little way

He may (attempt to) awkwardly cook something for you, or more likely than not, force you to take fencing lessons

He always wins

And he goes really hard on you claiming that you would never learn if he went easy

It’s laborious and by the end of each session you are close to collapsing from exhaustion

Insert a lewd joke here, “Oh, my dear, if this is how easily you tire, I better condition you for my bedchamber...”

Yeah, it turns out he is a complete pervert sometimes

But fencing is one of the few ways he can actually express himself

Which seems a bit paradoxical if that expression is affection or love

But it is kind of cute.

He is determined to teach you, and although he may not be the most outwardly affectionate, the amount of time and effort he invests in you is enough to tell you how much he cares

He is a very busy man you know, running missions and odd errands for the queen

His free time is extremely precious for him 

So the mere fact that he is spending it with you is a lot more monumental than most people would assume

But you are smart enough to realise this

And that is one of the reasons I did not pair you with Sebastian. 

Sebastian is a lot more how shall we put it... salacious. His flirting is subtle in public but that bastard would do anything to make his lover blush, testing the limits of society and still managing to get by without being caught... somehow. It’s his way of exercising control and I think that would really clash with your love language. 

~

So,

Charles Grey is also a rather chipper fellow. 

Like "chipper" may be an understatement 

Excitable puppy man is more like it, at least when it comes to fencing... or maiming... the dude has weird hobbies

But he really understands your desire to travel. He is full of jittery energy that he uses releases running errands for the Queen, travelling across all of the UK. And really most of Europe running diplomacy missions and handling sensitive cases

He would probably be hesitant to allow you to accompany him

But you'd wear him down eventually 

Grey really understands your wanderlust, he has a hard time focusing on monotonous tasks or locations as well

So he may allow you to join him

With one *small* caveat 

You have to defeat him in a fencing duel first 

Which is absolute shit. But you understand where he is coming from.

That ego of his leads him to consider himself the best swordsman in Europe, if not the world

He figures that if you manage to strike him down then you could handle yourself with anyone 

And that is no small task

It seems entirely daunting and near impossible (which is probably another reason he assigned it)

And that brings me to my next point. 

Charles Grey needs some who is open minded and chill enough to out up with his shit

But also stubborn and outspoken enough to shut him down when he tries some spectacularly stupid

Which is why you would work well with him. Not only does your nonchalance perfectly foil his constant energy and inquisitive nature, but you also have set your boundaries and know when to shut down schemes and ideas

So yeah

You begin training extra hard

For maybe like a day

Then you give up

It's hard, everything hurts, you are exhausted, and all you MIGHT get out of it is one lousy trip

So you begin putting training sessions off

"I'm not feeling well."

"I'll start once I finish this book"

"Oooh, it's too late now"

To say that Grey would be discouraged and slightly hurt is an understatement 

His passion and life blood is fencing. He has worked really hard to get to this point and the fact that his significant other takes no interest in it wounds him

This could definitely be a point of discourse if your relationship 

But you have to remain open with each other and talk it out

That is the most important thing. Communication. And let's be honest. Charles isn't not going to say shit 

He is "too manly" or too egotistical to admit his feelings

You'd have to be the one to approach him on the matter

But I feel like you would. You are used to hearing problems from your friends. You know when something is wrong and better yet, you listen 

After a talk, he understands that it may not be the fencing specifically you are disinterested in

But you just struggle to maintain motivation 

And from that moment on, Charles Grey becomes your personal cheerleader 

He's the mom at a soccer game freaking s c r e e c h i n g and going "that's my girl!" whenever you win a match

He takes pride in all he does, and he is proud of his protégé

He never allows you to lose motivation and is (annoyingly) insistent about the fencing 

Which again, could lead to some arguments if you resist

But he is doing it from a place of love because he can see how miserable you are cooped up in the same place

He knows you

And finally, the day arrives that you set to duel Charles Grey himself. If you win, you get to attend some of his missions with him (others are too sensitive to risk being seen by a civilian)

You are understandably nervous, but also introspective. Honestly it is probably a tidal wave of emotions far too complex to convey with words

But ill try 

Let me just....

This morning was like most mornings.

A heavy fog blanketed the docile countryside, most animals just began to shake off the effects of the previous night's slumber. 

Commoners rose with the peeking rays of the sun, beginning to perform their routine tasks before the last of the fog had been burned away by the heat. For most people this day was completely, utterly, ordinary.

But not for you. 

This day meant everything. This day meant your freedom. 

You had risen before even the sun, shedding your skirts in exchange for ivory fencing gear, exchanging your fan for a rapier and your hats for a meshed mask. This had been your life for the past year, and would continue to be so until your final breath.

But today. Today was different. 

Today determined your future. And quite frankly, your sanity. 

And all you had to do was defeat your lover in close quarters combat. A monumental task in-of itself. Half of your acquaintances thought you mad, the other half patronized you, treating your struggle as a desperate cry for attention. They simply couldn't understand why a lady would go through such trouble as to challenge the country’s greatest swordsman. A woman's place was in the house, and in home is where she is complete. Why would she bother her pretty little head and sully herself in the wretched world around her? That was a man's job, such trifling affairs should be of no concern for a lady.

"She is odd, that one." They would say. But they didn't understand, how could they? 

Raised under the constrictive hand of the patriarchy, they were forced into complacency. A complacency so culturally ingrained that they themselves never sought to question it. Or, those that did often keeled to the whims of man's iron fist in fear of social ostracism and reputational backlash. 

But you were different. 

From childhood you felt the pangs, the longing to not only see but experience both the beauty and sorrow of the world around you. To learn and ingrain yourself with the cultures, to explore every nook and cranny of your planet. You could never understand why those around you seemed so content with living and dying inconsequentially, never experiencing the midnight sun or the sweeping winds of the steppe. Dying without ever truly living. Merely existing in their self-made reality, completely ignorant to the bright, beautiful world around them.

Why stay put when you can travel?

Why exist when you can live?

These questions, along with the persistent voice of your instructor (and fiancé), kept you focused and motivated. All of that training, all of those hours of arduous, grueling work had lead to this moment.

You stood within the fencing hall, the lack of bodies usually present caused the room to echo with each clicking foot fall on the tile floor. It was wide, empty, and entirely unwelcoming. It felt like a stranger to you, despite the year of training you had completed within its walls. 

Before you stood a similarly dressed figure, its face obscured by the dark meshing that covered the helmet. 

It was entirely impersonal.

A faceless enemy in a sea of a faceless crowd. 

But you knew better. His posture was all too familiar to you. The slight tilt of his head, the pitch of his shoulders, the strangely comforting steady hand in which he held his weapon. This was your lover, Charles Grey. And your opponent. 

It was definitely surreal. He rarely ever wore his mask in training. The absence of his characteristic gloating smile and talkative nature felt almost lacking. It was rare that he would be so quiet... so solemn. But he was just as aware of your current situation as you were. And how much it meant to you. 

Without a word, he raised his weapon and the battle commenced. 

It was an intense battle

With every blow he performed, your parried and dodged

With a feline grace, you danced up-top light heels, twirling and spinning in an almost melodic fashion 

Metal clashed against metal, each crack ringing through your ears

You had trained enough with him to know that he had a tendency to leave his left side unguarded and exposed

But he also trained with you to know that you can forget to guard your knees

And as the minutes tick by, marking one of the longest conflicts you had ever had with him, exhaustion sets into your bones 

And you falter

The blow is lightning fast, you hardly have a chance to comprehend his movements 

But his hips are besides yours, his knee hooked behind your leg. 

He pushed you backwards with his forearm, causing you to fall backwards, only to trip on his knee and slam against the ground

Something cool and metallic is pressed to the back your neck

You don't need to look to know it is the rapier and that you have lost

The sound of you two's laboured breaths echoes through the empty chambers

Several seconds tick by as the two of you gather your thoughts 

...You... lost

You finally turn yourself around, noticing that Charles had removed his fencing helmet

Damp silver hair sticks to his forehead, matted and plastered across his face

For a moment, a look of sorrow flickered across his handsome features, only to be replaced by that typical cheeky grin

"You lost, luv. Better luck next time, eh?"

You never really had much of a plan

But seeing that smug expression kicked your instincts into overdrive

With one fluid scissor sweep, you dislodged his balancing, a well-placed kick aiming where the sun don't shine toppled him over entirely 

And then he was on the floor next to you, his face contorted in an express of pain 

You were quick to discard his weapon and straddle him, keeping his wrists pinned above his head to the floor

"Lesson one: never trust your opponent"

You parroted this line to him, one he had told you many of times

He only managed a pained grunt in response

Chuckling, you apologized with a chaste kiss which he all too eagerly accepted 

He was probably just being theatrical to get more kisses

You did not have much time to ponder the situation before a polite round of applause erupted from a nearby alcove

You nearly jumped out of your skin

You did not notice the shawled figure, cloaked in all black, like a walking shadow 

The figure took a few steps forward, emerging to the light 

And that is when you realized who it was

Queen Victoria herself

By her side, astute as always was the man you practically considered a brother 

Charles Phipps

By now, you were extremely aware of the suggestive position you were in

Straddling Charles Grey, your hips against his, his wrists clasped tightly in your hands and pinned above his head

And oh, gods that insufferable smirk with which he was regarding 

"As you can see, your majesty, my darling is highly... proficient." Grey practically hummed

You quickly scrambled to your feet, unsure how to handle yourself in the presence of a queen

Turns out, Grey had invited her to witness your duel in hopes of securing you a position under her employ. Either as an emissary or housekeeper. 

According to Phipps, She was quite impressed by your performance, even though you lost

The only other person she had seen to be able to keep pace with Grey was Phipps... and a certain blonde who shall not be named

And that is the story of how you became the head maid for the Queen herself and an emissary on par with Grey himself, running missions as a husband-wife warrior squad, haha

~

You two probably met in an odd way

I’d say for a fact that you were attracted to Sphere music hall

It’s like that place was made for you

Semi-modern concert style music hall which people hailing from all backgrounds and classes intermingled together in harmony

Divinations and readings were done for free and in return, each patron was given a bracelet depicting their star sign. 

As a matter of fact, a lot had to do with the star signs. 

Meditations were conducted in between hours and food served

It was a really great place to go, somewhere you fit it because you had always been an outcast

Forced to keep your craft a secret in fear of retribution from the church, you usually made coin as a street performer and singer

It was not a lot, but it was certainly enough to keep you off the streets

Unfortunately that also meant you were constricted to the same place

Your family had consistently tried to marry you off to some rich white dude

Well, rich(er)

But you did not want to be wife and then a stay at home mother

That was somehow worse than your current situation

Also your opinionated and confident demeanour often scared off potential suitors

It was a serious problem because apparently women were supposed to be soft spoken and weak. 

But you on other other hand, never showed weakness

It was far too “masuline” apparently

So you decided to strike out on your own and try to make it as a singer

Easier said than done

In the music hall, you truly felt free to express yourself

Its charismatic leader put major emphasis on the stars and night sky, he was extremely introspective and the two of you instantly hit it off (I considered matching you with Blavat instead of Grey but I kinda feel like you two would work better as friends)

You were completely enthralled with his demeanour and exuberance

And you consistently attended the hall as it was the only place you felt you truly belonged, no one casting judgmental stares, no whispers behind your back, and most of all, you felt a sense of camaraderie that you have never felt before

And as a result, you fell victim to the cult

Initially, the Queen garnered concerns over the existence of this Music Hall and the traction it was gaining. As a result, she sent out her very own Charles and Phipps to scope out the place before sending word to Ciel Phantomhive

Infiltrating undercover as guests, the Queen’s handy butlers began an inspection of the area

There they ran into you

Literally

You were in the middle of entertaining a small portion of attendees with a song at the behest of Blavat himself (he was actually looking to hire you as a backup singer for the Starlight Four but you were not aware of this)

You were reaching the crescendo of your song when a drunken man slammed into you

You uttered an apology but he seemed rather intent on making himself a nuisance

“Watc’ yaaaa, yaaa stoopid *hic* bitccccc”

You took a few steps back in response as he staggered forward, raising a palm as if to strike you

Before you could react, a flash of white covered your vision

A man stood before you, sword drawn and dawned in a blindingly white coat

Silver tresses rolled down his back, as he glared up at your attacker from behind attractively long lashes

How he managed to sneak a rapier into the party was completely beyond you, yet here he was

“Now, didn’t your mama teach you manners?” He cooed, a slightly maniacal smile across his lips

“Yoooou wanna go?” The man sneered, “I can tak *hic* you pwetty boooy”

Of course, this scene began to attract attention

The murmurings and pleasant violin music had all but stopped as thousands of eyes turned to face you

Blavat had to step in, nervously defusing the situation

He had the drunkard escorted out and moved to confiscate the weapon from the white-clad man only to get the think pointed at his throat

“A man’s worth is in his sword. It would be cruel to take that away from him.”

You were entirely unsure if he was being literal or making a dirty innuendo with that statement

Regardless of his intentions, he was promptly thrown out as well

Much to the chagrin of a separate, similarly dressed man who seemed down right exasperated with his partner’s trigger happy (blade happy?) tendencies. 

You decided to follow this peculiar stranger out and thank him for what he did

You found him trying to crawl through a window, seeking re-entry into the part.

“Uh, excuse me...” You called to him as he fiddled with the lock on the window. You had no idea how he managed to climb up that high in such a short amount of time, but he had perched himself rather precariously on the window sill.

“Not right now, luv.” He called back, “I am busy.”

“I just wanted to thank you for what you did back there. I could have been hurt.”

He paused, not once looking back at you. “Right. Who are you?”

You were rather taken aback

He literally just saved you, how could he not remember you?

“Look, if you aren’t going to pay me the mind to even look at me, I won’t take the effort to thank you.” You huffed and turned to walk away

“I wouldn’t go back there if I were you.”

His voice caused you to halt in your tracks. You spun around to stare at him incredulously. “Excuse you?”

God, those silver eyes were breathtaking as he gazed at you, practically oozing with a feline grace

“Those people aren’t good people.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone

“Oh? And what do you know about them?” You retorted defensively

“More than you, obviously.” He finally managed to pry the window open. “Her majesty has good instincts. She knows this place is dangerous, else-wise she wouldn’t have sent me.”

And with that weirdly convoluted and vague sentence, he slipped back inside and disappeared

You were left to ponder the meaning of his words

Her majesty?

This bloak knew the bloody Queen?!?!

What else did he know?

What could possibly be so bad about the hall?

You decided to call it quits early that night to process. You never thought you would ever see him again, or so you thought

~

You had been doing your research, sticking your nose in places you probably should not have

Blavat, someone you once considered a close and trusted friend almost seemed menacing to you

And he definitely picked up on your closed off body language

But you knew that something fishy was going on during those “private” events. Only specific people were ever invited (AKA not you)

It all just seemed really sus

And you were determined to find out

So you snuck in

Having spent many hours in the hall, you were aware of certain passages and entrances that others were not

And you were able to sneak in without much issue

But you weren’t able to see much

A heavy smoke filled the air, smelling pleasantly of posies and roses

Your eyes began to droop and heaviness set into your lids

And you fell asleep

You woke up, with the concerned and slightly perturbed face of Blavat staring down at you

Well, shit... busted

“We had a nice thing going, y/n. And you just had to ruin it.” Blavat stated callously. “You know those events are private.”

And with that, you were barred from entering the music hall... permanently

This was definitely rather devastating as it was the only place you could truly be yourself without fear of rejection of prosecution

But now you were more sure than ever that something was amiss in that hall

Why else would they be so strict?

You were probably only left alive because they knew that whatever gas they used to put out those in attendance also affected you before you could see anything incriminating

And so you began trying to locate that mysterious man in white 

He seemed to have more answers than you did

It did not take long to figure out his name and occupation. Charles Grey. Butler to the Queen herself

He must have been quite the impressive butler to be going out on scouting missions for the Queen and not just serving tea

Regardless, gaining an audience with him was nearly impossible 

So you would just have to attract his attention...

Somehow

Given his affinity towards sword fights, you were sure that a loud brawl outside the palace itself would almost certain garner his attention

The real question was, where in the world would you get people foolish enough to pull such a stunt and risk getting arrested

Sooo, maybe not that

You might have to work backwards

Ask around and find those that may be acquaintances with him

Which was a lot harder than it looked

It took days of searching, but you were eventually sent to speak with a mortician who according to your contact “knows everyone who is no one”... whatever that meant

It did not take too long to find out

This mortician was... eccentric to put it in the most polite of terms 

But he was definitely connected with Britain's underbelly 

Which you assumed is where the “everyone who is no one” comes from

You came in hoping to pay him off, to which he blatantly refused, instead asking for you to make him laugh

Which was an odd request but one which you were willing to comply if it meant breaking the case

You spent hours trying different tactics to no avail

Until you sang a very dirty and very perverted song (Most likely “God’s Loophoel”. Yeah, actually don’t look that up, it is exactly as it sounds)

He seemed to enjoy that far too much as his cackles were absolutely thunderous

In tears, he kindly revealed to you that he was familiar with this Charles Grey and could pull a few favours to get you in contact

But he never said when, nor did he ever say where

But he did ensure word of your snooping reached the ears of Charles Grey who surprised you in your own home whilst you were halfway dressed

He initially was very cross with you poking around, scolding you and chastising you saying that it was “no business for a lady”

But you shut him down pretty quick

And afterwards, the two of you hit it off and decided to make evening tea on Sundays a staple thing

Grey would inform you about the progress of the Sphere Music hall and in return, you would keep well away from it

It worked out for the two of you

But word of your sniffing around had also reached the ears of one certain earl and his own demonic butler

I would be careful about what questions you ask and where you poke your nose

We wouldn’t want it to get bitten off, now would we?

this was a lot of fun to write, I hope you enjoyed reading it, dear. Let me know what you thought

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 46: It’s Not Wishful, I’m Just Thinking

A bit of Adam and Shiro conspiracy theorizing sandwiched between some Klance

First  Previous  Next

Lance wakes to the buzzing of his comms unit. He answers with a groan, a hoarse, “Hello?”

“I need you for a minute.”

“Good morning, Adam. Go fuck yourself.”

“Rather busy at the moment. Come to my rooms.” The line cuts off.

“Sure. Shall I bring you breakfast? Tea? Remind me! Who’s the prince again?” Lance sighs, looks down to see Keith no longer burrowed into his chest but gazing up at him, eyes large, luminous. Imploring.

“Sorry, beloved. Adam needs me for something.”

“Couldn’t you say no?” The imploring morphs into annoyance, and Lance bites his lip, amused. Underneath the amusement is annoyance of his own, reluctance, guilt.

“Normally, yes, but after tonight? I’m obliged to go. Just in case.” Lance rubs at his spouse’s ear, presses a sweet kiss to his lips.

Sitting up, Lance disentangles himself from Keith, leaving the kit to curl into a ball, making sure to look grouchy so he doesn't look sad. With a sigh, Lance rubs his ear some more, strokes his hair to help him relax. “Try and go back to sleep. I’ll be back before you know it.”

Not bothering to get dressed, Lance stumbles along into Adam’s room, body still aching with exhaustion. Shiro sits across from him, a tea kettle on the small table between them. “This had better be good.”

"How much do you remember from Alchemical History?"

"Nothing, I was always balls deep in somebody during Alchemical History."

"Or they were balls deep in you. I remember now." Adam rubs his brow.

"Nah, we only switched it around for Philosophical Lenses for the Understanding of the Cosmos."

“Oh yeah, none of us really attended that. What do you know about Oriande?” Adam asks, leaning forward in his chair in front of the fire.

“I… Not much. Why?” Lance sits on the floor, yawning, scratching the back of his head. He nods in thanks when Shiro hands him a cup of tea.

“Romelle’s ramblings. I believe she’s referencing the Oriande tale.”

“Yeah, my selfish ancestor warped her entire species’ powers so she could save her stupid wife. Real charming tale. Why?”

Shiro has the audacity to raise and eyebrow. Lance glares. “You woke me up, you deal with cranky Lance. You also woke up Keith, by the way, so you double suck.”

Adam ignores Lance’s complaints. “What if she’s seen it, or is perhaps seeing it?”

“I’m sorry. What is Oriande?” Shiro asks.

Lance stares stonily at Adam. “It’s a place that may or may not exist, located with an object that may or may not exist, filled with knowledge that may or may not exist, and guarded by some ancient, sentient manifestation of power that also may or may not exist. Nothing is known about it except that it exists only in some folktale that was likely fabricated by one of my ancestors while she and her wife were high on bread mold, before we’d even invented paper.

“Supposedly, my father, with the help of Honerva and Romelle, was looking for it. That would be when Honvera somehow transported herself through alchemy to Daibazaal and ended up stranded with Zarkon for a phoeb in the middle of nowhere, they boned, etcetera, etcetera, Lotor’s birth supposedly saves us all. Father was, of course, miraculously unscathed. Meanwhile, little Romelle went insane, as you’ve seen. But the entire thing is conjecture.”

“Is it possible they got closer than-”

Lance cuts off his attendant. “I wouldn’t put it past my father to find some miserable pile of powerful nothing out in the cosmos and poke it with a stick, but no. I seriously doubt they actually found Oriande.” He sighs, shoulders sagging. “The most likely scenario is that something went wrong and her mind latched onto the idea of Oriande as a survival mechanism.”

The couple sighs in unison. Lance can see the disappointment on their faces. He’s exhausted, frustrated, and just wants to return to Keith. Curl up with him, hold him close, help him sleep. Still, he hasn't been exactly pleasant, and he understands their efforts.

“Look, I love her too. She’s family to me. I’d give almost anything to help her. But we should focus our efforts on what is before us, not on folktale and conjecture.” Biting his lip, Lance elects to make a compromise of sorts. “But I’ll have Pidge look into it. They might be able to scrape something up for us.”

“Thanks, Lance.” Shiro says, gray eyes smiling.

Lance rises to his feet with a nod, draining his cup. “Say thank you by letting me go back to bed. And keep an ear out for anyone who wants us all dead. Don’t leave me out of the loop. I will hear about it, and I will dissolve your ass in a wave of blue light, understood?”

Staring down the captain would normally intimidate Lance, but he means it this time. His family and his spouse are in danger and he needs to protect them and his people.

“Understood.” Shiro bows his head as the prince walks past. “Look after my littermate for me.”

“Always.” Lance pauses by the door. “Adam, for the love of the Ancients get some rest. You look wretched.”

Back in their quarters, Keith is sitting, curled in a ball, arms wrapped around his legs, tail curling, uncurling over his toes. He’s shivering again. Lance makes a note to discuss with Coran how to make the pods more Galra-friendly.

He looks up when Lance steps in. “Hey.”

“Couldn’t go back to sleep, huh?” Lance stumbles back to the bed, falls into it with a groan. “Well, I for one am quiznaking exhausted. Wouldn’t mind company if you’re still tired.”

So tired it hurts,” Keith murmurs. “I just couldn’t fall back asleep after you left.”

“Mh.” Lance holds out his arms, smiling as Keith cuddles up to him. The kit begins to purr, tail curling up and around Lance’s waist like an extra arm, holding him closer. “I love when you do that. It’s adorable.”

“Hm?”

“The purring. It’s adorable.”

“I could kill you with one, bare hand. You know that, right?”

“I know it very well. But it’s okay to be other things, too. A killer is, to me, one of the last things you are.”

“It’s one of the last things you are to me, too.”

“I’ve never killed anybody before. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” Lance sighed.

“It’s living with it that’s hard.”

“You’ve killed somebody?”

“Yeah. An Altean. He wandered up to my den a few decaphoebs before Shiro found me. He was injured and I tried to help him, but he shot me in the arm, so I killed him.”

Lance draws back a bit, brushes some hair out of Keith’s face. “How do you look at me, and not see an enemy?”

“I could ask the same of you.” Those dark, violet eyes look steadily into his, unwavering, always wide with curiosity.

“Because…” Lance shifts enough to rest their foreheads together, tips of their noses touching, eyes piercing into one another. Keith’s ear flutters, and Lance runs a thumb over his cheekbone, a habitual behavior meant to comfort, one his culture has ingrained in him. “When I first saw you, the first thing I realized was that you were scared. That you were unprepared, that you weren’t ready. I saw you, and we were the same.

“And I figured… If you were as scared as I was, then I could trust us to find a way to work together.”

“Do you trust this?” Keith whispers.

Lance pushes Keith’s bangs away again, smiles softly. “I’m starting to.”

Keith’s mirroring smile is worth everything.

[elejahfanfic]

The Vampire Files/3

Fanfiction

Part 3

AU crossover story with tvd characters

Elena  Gilbert and Nick Amaro

are FBI agents, investigating paranormal activity and all different strange cases involving demons, witchcraft, vampires.

There will be other tvd/to characters in it, as well as characters from other fandoms -

ft. Joel Goran from Saving Hope

warning: smutty, 18+

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧˚

_gifs are not mine *

tags_ @miguelsbrat​

thanks so much for reading. I hope you like it. xoxo

✽-( ˘▽˘ ❁)/✽

Days after

Whitmore

Bonnie Bennett finished with her report, sending a copy over to the FBI. Elena's remark about the amulet and mentioning the name of the monster that was out there killing women, who were not random women, but fellow witches, rattled her. This was not just an Agent, Bonnie thought.

****

FBI Headquarters

Washington, DC

Was Elena just an Agent? Nick wondered. He now took his tablet and opened the Elena’s PhD-'Vampires and Folklore'. Such a simple title to a very extensive read.

He read, 'Throughout history, these beings have resided alongside man. Myths and folktales from all points of the globe speak of beings that feed on the living. From the Japanese Kasha to the Irish Dearg-Du and the Tlaciques of the Mexican Nahautl Indians and the Arabic Algul they exist.

... In closing, the interesting thing to note is that although the creatures of mythology largely contradict the popular view of vampires, they do exist. They exist at all corners of the world and in nearly every culture known to man. Although they exist as superstition and folklore, they persist in appearing in the dark shadows of humanity.’

Nick put the tablet down. This definitely gave him a further insight in his new partner. To Elena this world was very real. They were not catching ordinary criminals.

Although he didn' believe in demons, vampires, curses or any of the superstitions, he had to admit all was very intriguing. She clearly resented the fact that he was assigned to be her new partner. Their effort to bond over pie and coffee didn't go all too well, but it was a step forward in admitting they had a job to do and that was enough. He poured himself a glass of Bourbon.

Flashback

"I guess they assigned you there because she needed someone who is cool-headed," Camille said to him as they talked earlier on the phone,"maybe they are testing you-"

"Or- they are testing me, all right! And the cool-headed thing- you are too generous- I shot the deputy."

"And you were cleared. He happened to be in the line of fire. Shall I come over?" Camille reminded him.

"No. I have tones to read. Familiarize myself with the demon files she has given me as homework."

"Have fun." Camille said hanging up.

He had no desire to read anymore so he took his car keys and got out of the office.

*********

Elena waited for a man in the Rock Creek Cemetery

"Do you have it?" she said as he finally got to the .meeting point

"Here" Klaus passed her a little box.

"When is the Initiation ritual?"- Elena asked.

"March 23rd- full moon" the attorney said.

"Right" Elena said.

"You think this is connected to Jackson's murder?" Klaus said.

"Yes," Elena said putting the box in her bag,"and it had nothing to do with the investigation we were on. The witches wanted him dead. And they will cover it up."

"Why do you what you do then?"

"Why are you?" she posed a counter question.

"Maybe there is no real answer." Klaus said.

"Maybe to brings some order in all disorder?!" Elena said and without any goodbyes she walked away.

Klaus took his phone and dialed a number.

******* At Rebekah's house, that evening

Rebekah and Caroline sat down for supper.

"No answer" Caroline said trying to get hold of Elena again.

"Have some more wine," Rebekah offered,"She told me she will come"

And not long after, Elena rang the doorbell. And so the three friends sat down for meal, to chat and unwind. All of them had several crappy months behind them. And this little get-together was to give one another wind beneath the wings.

"Joel has accepted to work at Jeffersonian" Rebekah said looking at Elena. Namely, Joel was her ex-boyfriend.

"Good for him" Caroline said taking a sip of the cocktail, her eyes also swaying at Elena. Caroline noticed that yet again she was there physically, but mentally she was somewhere else.

"So, how is he really?" Caroline asked Elena.

"How is who really?" Elena looked at her friend somewhat absent-minded.

"Your new partner. Come on- spill!" Rebekah said impatient to hear what Elena had to say about Nick.

"Ok. He is different, that's for sure. He is very text-book. We have a job to do. Catch the twisted criminals!"- Elena said in a sarcastic under-tone.

"This doesn't sound like you're a match made in heaven" Caroline then said.

"We don't have to be. We just need to be focused on the one thing and apply team-work," Elena said,"ok- now what is this thing with you and Stefan?"

"Didn't you say you are never going back there?" Rebekah now looked at Caroline.

" I know I said - and it was just sex" Caroline said following a deep sigh.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Rebekah didn't understand why she could not draw the line once and for all. "He is never going to give you more- he said so- he is in love with this -whoever she is"

"Don't I know that" Caroline said taking a sip of the drink again.

"Love- who wants it- so overrated anyway," Elena said thinking of Joel.

Rebekah now gave her a look that would kill. "You're not helping!"

"Come on- seriously. Look at us. When do we have time for love? And then if maybe we find the guy- it all just goes to blows" Elena suddenly stood up.

"Where are you going?" Rebekah said surprised she was acting like nothing mattered at all to her.

"I don't know. I just can't sit here and -everything inside of me feels like a ticking bomb- and I can't talk about it with you cos of the investigation." Elena said quite agitated.

"Is it that bad?" Caroline now stood up as well.

"It is that bad," Elena confirmed," I might get suspended or even worse- lose my job."

"It is only a job!" Rebekah then said,"and a wretched one. Dealing with such difficult cases all these years no wonder you are breaking."

"I am not breaking! I am good at what I do. I love this job. I- sorry guys- but I have to go-" Elena took her coat and went out.

Rebekah and Caroline stayed behind speechless for a moment.

"I have never seen her like this. She is always so -" Caroline said not knowing how to label Elena’s behaviour.

Rebekah finished her sentence, "Messy."

Messy, maybe was right, but much deeper, Elena felt like her other life was consuming her entirely. And she was on the brink of spilling it all out to them. I am not the person you think I am. I, Elena Gilbert am a demon hunter. My family. My mother was a demon hunter. My grandmother. My life....my life is not my own. Elena's head throbbed with a horrific sensation that she might fold.

And why was she on the breaking point right now and not before?

Flashback

A couple of months ago

In Alabama

Jackson came to the designated place Elena had gave him directions to. She hopped into the SUV and they took off for Washington.

"So, you found it?" Jackson asked.

"Yes." Elena unfolded the cloth and showed him the dagger.

"Are you sure this is the demon soul dagger we are looking for?!" the Agent asked.

"Positive," Elena answered,"you know that my dreams are not just peachy dreams of walking down the beach."

"What about the curse?"

"That is something I still need to figure out."

"The lawyers released the shaman." Jackson said.

"Well, with this, they will lock him up forever and throw away the key."

With the thoughts of that night, Elena drove to her apartment building. As she got into the garage, she got her phone out.                  

"Nick?" she said as he answered the call,"can you come down to "George's?- yeah- see you-"

She got out of her SUV and walked into the bar she would frequently hang out. Nick arrived some fifteen minutes later.

"Hey" he said as he sat down next to her on the bar.

"Hey-" Elena said back.

He played it cool, but he was amazed that she called him out so out of the blue, and it had nothing to do with a case.

The bartender asked him what he wanted- and he saw Elena drinking beer, so he ordered the same.

"So, after hours, beer?!" he joked a little.

"Hate the stuff, but sometimes, I need its bitter taste to make the sweet taste better." Elena said.

"Right" Nick uttered. More weirdness, he thought. Head she summoned him to share something or just to hang out? Whatever it was, he was ok with whatever. They can just drink beer and she could just be silent. Or they could play a game of billiards, which he suggested.

"Yeah, haven't played like in forever, but I have to warn you- I used to kick ass at the Academy" Elena said.

"Well, I did the same."

They ordered a couple of more beers.

Nick, as well as her were playing as if it was some kind of competition. And he won. Twice. Just barely, but still he won.

"I am really out of practice" Elena said putting the cue stick aside.

"You really hate to lose?!" Nick remarked.

"Well, yeah. But I am not a sore loser. Really, I am not." she walked over to the bar asking for another beer.

"Ok, so - are we going to talk about it now or tomorrow?" he said wanting to know why she had actually called him out.

"I don't feel like talking. Can we just hang and drink beer?"

"Of course we can." Nick said.

"I need someone who will be there and not ask me questions," she now looked at her partner curling a sour smile on taking a silent breath," I ran away from my best friends tonight. People, who care. I don't know why at one moment- I just could not stay there with them.And they have always helped me go through anything. It's just that I want to spare them from dumping my pain on them. They already have enough of their own shit making their lives miserable."

"But- isn't that what friends are for? Tell them any shit?" Nick said.

"Yeah- you're right. And it's true. But, ahm- I just didn't want to suck them into my darkness." Elena tried to reason about her decision to abandon the party.

"But a partner can suck up anything?!"

Elena gave him another serious look, which confirmed what he had said.

"You are also in the darkness with me," she said to him,"sitting in the shadows"

Nick was quiet. The way she said it was like she reached down his soul reading it like a book.

"Don't mind me. Just get so morbid at times. Tomorrow, the sun will be up again and I will be ready for anything, partner," the brunette then said,"I’m gonna head home.”

"Me, too” Nick said getting up.

"See you tomorrow," Elena said,"thank you. And I want a rematch!"

"Anytime, partner," Nick said,"see you tomorrow."

Jumping into her car, she drove off to the University Hospital. She was too weary, and home was the last place she wanted to be.

“Hey, Sophie” Elena said as she walked in the special ICU where the coma patients were held.

“I so need you to wake up - things are not good,” Elena muttered to the witch inhaling deeply,“I need you. They killed Jackson. But to kill it, I need the angel blood. And even when I find it, I can’t do it without you. There is one good news. I have found the Salem witch.”

Elena now went to tell her friend and curator of the Smithsonian museum a little bit about her new partner, as well as her current state of mind. Some half an hour later, she made her way to the car, stumbling at her ex, the dashing doctor, Joel Goran at the elevator.

“Working late” he said.

“I - went to see Sophie.” Elena said.

“Ah” Joel uttered adjusting his backpack, keeping to his side of the elevator.

“I hear that you are going over to the Smithsonian? Had enough of being a rock star surgeon?”

“No - my hand is - I can’t do surgeries anymore. My hand still has tremors and - yeah. So, I’m going to join the Bones team.” Joel replied.

“Right - sorry about your hand” Elena said.

“I’m sorry about your - partner.” Joel said sympathetically.

“Thanks” Elena nodded a little.

And then there was the look. The one that spoke more than words. The one that blurred all the lines.

Half an hour later, in Joel’s apartment, the blurred lines became even more blurry.

Elena pushed him back on the bed and straddled his hips and sank down on his cock, taking him as deep as he would go.

His hands wrapped around her waist, pulling her down, with a hoarse groan.

She melted against him, taking him inch by inch until, at last, she had accepted all of him.

“You feel so good,” he whispered, looking up at her through heavy eyelids., 2so good.” His fingers traced paths up and down her spine, coaxing soft moans from her. Lifting her hips and grinding downward, gyrating to stimulate her nub. She used him for her pleasure, ignoring his needs. She just wanted to get off, and he didn’t seem to mind. She took him faster, rotating slightly with each downward stroke. His hips rose off the bed to meet her strokes. He bit his lip, his head tossed back.Watching his expression was almost better than the waves of pleasure coursing through her own body. He could feel her trembling, and the way she arched back, he knew she was nearly ready to crash. He now flicked over her nub with her thumb, making her orgasm spiral out with a shuddering cry. She fell down on him, breathing against his mouth, “I so needed this.”

She pulled away from him off him and rolled her onto her back in the center of the bed, taking a small breather.

Elena was not a selfish kind, and she now pulled him to her, streaming her hands down his abs, wrapping her hands around his cock. She sat up, ready to take him int his mouth, but Joel stopped her. “I want to feel you - I need to be inside you “

She had not objections. Kissing her, he pushed her soflty back onto the mattres, he climbed on top of her and slid inside her. Her eyes drifted closed. Her back arched, rubbing her belly against his. He grunted under his breath, latching his lips onto hers as he pushed in slowly. The brunette closed her eyes and concentrated on the perfect rhythm of his long and deep strokes.

His quiet gasps in her ear sent her lust spiraling out of control yet again. Her hands moved down his back, digging into his flesh as she bucked her hips against him. His strokes shifted, becoming faster and harder. She felt like heaven and he lost himself now completely. Wrapped up in her warmth, he quivered and shook against her.

His gasps grew shaky and punctuated. Moaning softly his name, she soon brought him over, and he shuddered violently, groaning hoarsely against her shoulder, holding tight, till his spasms stilled.

Pulling out, he collapsed beside her, eyes closed, breathing hard. “This was - so amazing. I missed this -”

“It was.” Elena said getting up from the bed.

“Where are you going? Come back.” Joel sat up.

“I can’t stay” Elena said and disappeared into the bathroom.

Joel crashed back on the bed, taking a deep breath.

_to be continued

[itsfinallybedtime]

Change Your Mind

“You’re my family too, Sandor.” A high school AU

A gift for @book-pirate for the Sansan Secret Santa in July.

A monster. A freak.

Something the other children like to call me every time they see me. Even those adults who act all good and understanding were no different with them labeling me with wretched names behind my back. Just because of my scarred face.

I hate this place so bad. I hate school. I hate my stupid classmates. I hate the teachers. I fucking hate Gregor for ruining my life. I hate my father for turning a blind eye to the abuse.

I absolutely loathe everything. It’s suffocating me. The looks, the scorns, the whispers, they do.

Should I be judged because of how I look?

It doesn’t matter. Nothing interests me. No friends to call without their parents telling them my life story.

He had nothing…

That was until I met her…

It was her who had changed my mind.

Sandor Clegane was seventeen when he first met Sansa Stark.

She was a new student in his school.

She was a year younger than him but he could not help but hear rumors about her the moment she transferred to his school. Lovely. Beautiful. Kind. Popular. She was everything he wasn’t. And he was confident she was either a naïve little girl or a two-faced bitch. Sandor certainly couldn’t understand her popularity. Maybe it’s the novelty of her being from Winterfell or whatnot. But the boys, no matter what year, would not shut up about the girl.

Compared to him, Sandor was a bulky and awkward looking teen who wore second handed clothes to school every day. His scarred face was hidden by his long hair. And despite constant reprimands from the teacher, he refused to cut his hair short. Added to that, his reputation of being a well-known troublemaker, the teachers either resented him or were finally tired of having to deal with his crap.

He was the Hound, damnit! He was short-tempered and vindictive to anyone. They kept chanting it. They kept looking at him as though they anticipated him to be a rebel from the start… So Sandor became one. He did what they expected him to do.

So how did the ugly hound meet the lovely little bird from Winterfell?

It all took was a single day to establish a connection between them.

Shockingly enough, it was Joffrey Baratheon who was the catalyst of their relationship.

Joffrey the psychopath was a bully. Blond, handsome and stupidly rich was all that mattered especially in a school full of impressionable kids. He was the “King” and at the top of the hierarchy. And it became apparent that he had locked on his sights to the new girl in school.

Sandor was throwing punches in the sand bag when he heard the school gym door shut, “What the f-”

There in front of him was a flustered Sansa Stark blocking the only way out. Her usually braided hair was loose and her school vest gone, leaving her clutching her unbuttoned blouse in an attempt to preserve some sort of modesty. Clicking his tongue in annoyance, he catches the attention of the girl.

Raising her pretty face at the sound, she almost screamed when her gaze fell upon his scarred face. But the sound of rambunctious male laughter made her freeze. Using her other hand, she forced herself to stay quiet.

Frowning, Sandor noted her obvious distress. Listening at the taunting male voice, he immediately identified the Baratheon spawn.

“Oh Sansa~ Why don’t we stop playing hide-and-seek and start our initiation. Don’t you want to be my girlfriend?” Baratheon snickered.

Sansa began to tremble in fear. She squeezed her eyes shut praying for it all to go away.

Sandor paused. Was it worth it to raise the ire of the blond psychopath or not?

“No need to be shy, Sansa! You looked really pretty pinned on the ground.” Baratheon kept spouting his nasty thoughts while making his other peers jeer.

Disgusted at the blond prick, Sandor made a decision. “Little bird, get over here.”

Her stunningly blue eyes made contact with his. He tried to make his face as less threatening as possible but only manage to show her a grimace. She hesitated and nodded as she began to quietly walk towards him.

Sandor pointed at the locker room, “Just stay there and keep quiet if you don’t want to get his attention.”

She wavered to get in the foul smelling room, “How can I trust you, sir?”

Scowling in annoyance, Sandor responded, “Fucking hell, little bird. I’m only a year older than you. And I am certainly no sir.”

Blushing in embarrassment, “Oh. Forgive me-”

Pushing her in the room, Sandor grunted, “Just get in and shut up.”

The moment he closed the locker room, he hears a loud bang from the gym door.

“Oh if it isn’t the Hound!” Baratheon sneered.

Sandor glared, “What the fuck do you want, Baratheon?”

“Nothing really. Just playing a game. Though have you lately seen a pretty red head pass by this room?”

“No.”

“You better not be lying to me, Hound. Or I’ll make your life even more miserable in this school.”

“Do I look like a give a fuck? And no, I did not notice some red-headed chick pass by. I was busy punching this bag to release stress but who knows I may just be tempted to do the same to some egotistical brat and his goons.”

Furious, the blond prick and his goons left after saying, “You’re lucky I’m busy with the girl or else-”

Once he was sure they were gone from the building, Sandor grabbed his school blazer and knocked at the locker room.

When he hears the door open, he shoves his blazer to her face, “Wear this.”

Sandor nearly flushes pink as he felt her fingers make contact with his but her quiet ‘thank you’ kept him controlled.

“My name is Sansa Stark,” she said the moment she felt herself looking decent.

“I know.”

“Oh.”

Awkward silence reined.

“May I know your name then?” she persisted.

“Clegane. Sandor Clegane.”

“Thank you again Sandor.” Despite his clothes almost swallowing her whole, Sansa still manage to look elegant as she offered her hand.

Ignoring her hand, he said instead, “Do I want to know what just happened?”

“I…. I was just waiting for Margaery in the classroom so we could go home together when Joffrey and his friends came in and told me it was time for my initiation….”

“Basically the initiation was him fucking you,” Sandor growled.

She flinched at his tone. Her lips began to quiver as tears fell down, “I just wanted to be friends. And they- he was so nice when we met.”

“Yeah? Well he’s a two-faced bastard, little bird.”

Rubbing her tears off with the sleeves of his blazer, “Yeah. I unfortunately got that a little too late.”

As she tried to compose herself, Sandor murmured, “Do you want me to take you home?”

“What?”

Grabbing his bag and towel, he said louder, “I’m talking you home.”

Blinking curiously, she smiled at him and gently said, “Okay.”

They left the school in silence as they walked side by side. It was unusual for Sandor because despite the silence they did not seem to feel awkward with each other.

That might as well have been a start of their friendship.

Ever since that day the two of them can be seen more or less together for most of their free time.

The first time it happened, it was Sansa who initiated contact.

Sandor was in the cafeteria with the intention to grab lunch when he felt a hand grab his sleeves. His glaring faltered when he saw the person grabbing him.

With her cheeks pink, Sansa greeted, “Hello Sandor. Do you want to eat with me?”

Before Sandor could even think of an excuse to say no, he unconsciously nodded. Seeing his affirmation, Sansa smiled brightly and began to pull him away from the cafeteria, “I made too much food earlier and wanted to share some with you! I hope you don’t mind eating with me in the school garden.”

They two left the cafeteria with the students gaping at their backs.

She didn’t seem to mind his rude and cynical attitude and he learned to tolerate her ridiculously polite manner of speaking to practically every living thing.

While Sandor began to slowly accept their budding relationship, the school reacted otherwise. The teachers looked worried and hesitant about his possible influence on her. The boys were just envious of him having spent more time with Sansa. But Sandor couldn’t really care less what they think.  

He’ll be honest, it felt weird having someone constant by his side and when he told Sansa about it two months after the incident, she just looked at him with her usual unbearable understanding self.

“You can get used to it, Sandor. I was actually scared of you at first since you kept glaring at everybody. And the fact that you like to beat the crap out of anyone who looks at you wrong didn’t exactly help with my impression of you. But now, I am really glad to have been your friend. You’ve certainly changed my mind.”

He couldn’t help but grin at her words. “And I thought you would have been a pompous rich little bird but not everything is as it seems.”

Their bond grew even more when they began to spend time outside of school. She told him her interest in sewing and showed him her collection of patterns she made which he actually found impressive but just grunted in agreement at whatever was being said as she kept going on and on about color combination and stuff he could not understand.

On the other hand he brought her to the combat classes he’s been taking near his home. He began teaching her self-defense in hopes of keeping her safe in case he wasn’t be around.

Their interests may not have matched but for some god forsaken reason, they still work out.

One year passed and they were closer than ever. The teachers were now more accepting of their friendship after Sansa proved them wrong about him being a bad influence when she kept her grades up and stayed at the top. And hoping to aggravate them less, Sandor tried to avoid starting fights but will retaliate when provoked. At this point Sansa is the only one who can keep him calm.

As for the students, Joffrey actually tried to molest Sansa once again three months after his first attempt but Sandor had beaten the crap out of him. He was actually about to be expelled but Sansa furiously defended him and even brought her father to school. When Sansa bravely confessed about Joffrey’s harassment to her, her father was furious. The blond prick was forced to transfer after Ned Stark confronted Robert Baratheon of his actions. Sandor ended up having only to spend two weeks in detention.

Plus it seems he was in good graces with her family. Except for the She-Wolf, Sansa’s little sister, who was too fierce, ruthless and rough to actually be her sibling. Sansa claims she’s actually fond of Sandor but he remains cautious around the brat.

Now that Sandor was in his senior year, Sansa had asked him about his plans after high school. He admitted he wanted to join the army just to get away from his family. He also told her the real reason why his face is scarred and Sansa wept for him.

Sandor never wanted anything to do with them after all. His sister was long dead. His brother was still a terrible human being. And his father remained ignorant. He had no family he wanted to acknowledge.

Gently cupping his face, Sansa whispered to him, “Oh Sandor, even after having so many siblings I had no one I could connect with. I always wanted to be the model child to make my parents happy. It was something Arya detested about me. But ever since I met you, you’ve changed my perspective, Sandor. You’ve given me the connection I yearned.”

Her smile turned even radiant as she added, “You may think you have no one but you’re my family too, Sandor.”

Sandor Clegane had always love Sansa Stark ever since she gave him a handmade scarf the same color as her charming blue eyes as thanks for lending her his blazer. So he did not think he could fall even harder in love with his little bird. But in that moment he did.

Gently grabbing her hands from his face and placing it close to his chest, he smiled, “Thank you, little bird.”

Walking side by side, Sandor did not let go of her hand until he brought her safe back home.

One month before his graduation, Sansa confessed.

Sandor had every intention of doing so first but fear got to him. He was scared of losing the only friend that he ever had. After all she was the only person who actually took the time to understand him despite his scarred face and terrible temper. So every time he attempted to say something, he loses his nerve and changes the subject instead.

Apparently since he was taking too long, Sansa took matters into her own hands.

There were spending their lunch in the garden when Sansa said, “Sandor?”

He grunted in response as he kept shoving food in his mouth.

“You know it’s almost two years since we met... And now you’re about to graduate and leave…”

Sandor paused his eating as he tried to finish chewing the food already in his mouth. Glancing back down at her, he noticed her face become more and more pink.

“Sandor I… I-”

Realizing where this was going, Sandor wanted to confess to her first but his plans of swallowing his food too fast ended up in him almost choking which distracted Sansa from her speech as she tried to help him.

Sandor was coughing loudly and tried to get some semblance of control when Sansa gently patted his back and giggled. After a few seconds of silence, Sansa looked at Sandor straight in the face and with confidence finally said, “I love you, Sandor Clegane.”

He stared back at her and tried to control the emotions in his face and to keep cool but in the end, he could not help but grin like a fool, “I love you too, Sansa Stark.”

Three Years Later…

“We’ve been in the same unit for two years, Clegane, and I have yet to see your girlfriend!” Tormund Giantsbane said.

“Fiancée. And I have no fucking intention of letting you meet her and harass her.”

“WHAT?! I would never harm a lady!”

“I meant annoy her with your presence.”

“You wound me, Clegane! At least show me pictures!”

Raising his eyebrow, Sandor responded smugly, “A normal camera couldn’t possibly capture her presence.”

Tormund almost blushed in embarrassment, “You lovesick idiot. I can’t be-” before he could continue his rant, Sandor’s phone rang and the man immediately answered.

“Sansa,” Sandor said reverently. Standing up and leaving the office, Sandor gave Tormund the middle finger when the dwarf began making kissy noises to pester him.

“I miss you, Sandor.”

“I miss you too, little bird.”

“Soon?”

“Two more months and I’ll stationed permanently in Winterfell.”

“And in three more months and you’ll officially be part of my family, Sandor.”

Sandor grinned, “Yes.”

“You sure you don’t want to invite your friends in the army to our wedding?”

“I’d rather not. They’re too annoying.”

“Which means you like them.”

“I’m not changing my mind. I’m their squad leader. They might use the opportunity to act all chummy.”

Sansa chuckled, “Uh-huh. Well I’ve still got few more months to change your mind.”

“See you soon, Sansa.”

“I’ll see you soon, Sandor.”

[earthtocass]

I’m Sorry

Dear Alex, 

I know you probably will never see this, because you haven’t used this site in forever but i need somewhere to say this to you and I don’t know if i will get the chance to make things better. 

Where do I start? our first date? I couldn’t believe that I had finally met someone who I resonated with quite like I did with you. 

Do you remember? we spoke all night like it was nothing, we shared our interests, our thoughts, our dreams, what we wanted in life. every aspect of what you wanted matched mine. I never wanted that night to end, I could have spoken to you until my lungs gave out. I could have looked into your blue eyes until I was old and grey and you would have captivated me every step of the way. 

I remember laughing and smiling, sharing shitty date stories, our heart breaks. I knew from the moment you walked into my life that I would do whatever it took to keep you by my side. to see your cheeky grin. 

I remember thinking how much I hated beards, but god damn did you look amazing in yours. I never wanted to see you without it, and to this day I haven’t. 

We started seeing each other frequently, and every time I saw you, my whole body caught fire. Touching you ignited a flame in me, it was electric, and i still feel it every time you touch me. Even to this day. While it may no longer be a intense burning, it is a warm welcome fuzzy feeling i like to call home. 

I remember feeling like a little school girl, with a crush, we went to the zoo I still remember the wild dog toy you bought me as a gift. the photos of that day still hang on our walls. Such a happy memory. 

we shared so much in common, music, games, passions, drive, a want for children, and so much more, you really were instantly the half of me I had been missing my entire life. It was like a melding of minds that just made sense, and I know you felt that too as we spoke so often about how we just instantly connected. 

It took two weeks for me to finally build up the courage to ask what it was we had become. I remember clearly i was at Lachlan’s house and they were all asking me about this mysterious boy and what you were to me. I remember yearning for you to say that i was your girlfriend, but I didn’t  want to get my hopes up for the fear that you weren’t ready to label us. 

Much to my delighted surprise, you wanted to be mine! my heart could have burst I was so happy. YOU, You wanted to be with ME! 

the days where we didn’t see each other, they grew shorter and shorter. I remember cooking for you and your family, and them cooking for me. Home life for me then was not the best, with a new step dad being imported from another country and all the concern that brought. Your home life wasn’t that fair either at the time. but I remember admiring how dedicated you were to your family, supporting them through a decision like moving states and keeping them afloat. 

It came a time where the Flemington house would be no more, what were you going to do?? where would you stay? would I move in? and sure enough, myself and my two dogs moved into a crummy little 2 bedroom house with a pink shower bath and wooden floors. 

It was by no means our flashiest moment of living, but it was ours. Okay Sean lived there too, and yes that presented its own set of challenges. But we wanted to help! and we did for so long. 

I remember you getting so drunk you threw up all over our bedroom floor, and on the day we had an electrician coming. I remember being so mad, but now I look back on it and smile, it isn’t a bad memory. You flooded our floor and were so sick. I cared for you that day, feeding you and cleaning you up. Because I love you and that is just what you do.  

I remember when it all got too much, and what a strain that put on us. but we talked it through and came out better. 

I remember when everything fell apart between your Aunty and your Mum, and that the family that said they would always have your back, suddenly abandoned you without work. I wasn’t earning the best wage then, but we made it work. whatever we had to do to make ends meet and to support each other. 

You started working with my dad, I still have fond memories of that, he got to know you so well and you him. You built a bond so strong, he would do anything to help you out. 

We stuck that out for a while, us and our little family. 

I remember in December of 2016, you had been driving around that cursed Mitsubishi with all it’s huntsmans and you hated it. I remember you looking at the most disgusting green wagon I had ever seen, but you loved it. oh the petty bickering we did about that colour. Yet somehow I still look back on those little sessions and I smile, we had differing opinions but we never let them be a focus we just made it witty little banter, that was uniquely ours. Like your love of the E30, which I will never understand. 

No actually I do, you love the engineering genius, you love that they are aerodynamic, you love that they are quick and punchy and they are able to be used for lots of things, you love the way they drive and you hate that you sold the one you had. You think they are comfortable and classic and beautiful to drive and I know your dream is to purchase another and to work on it. I know I said that I wouldn’t let you get one, but really I probably could be persuaded.  

Anyway off track, you wanted that wagon so much. I remember how much I wanted to make you happy. I wanted to give you the world on a silver platter, I still do. You said to me that this was your dream car, you had always wanted one, so one day on a whim we went to a dealer and we spoke to them about it. we took it for a test drive and I remember the look on your face, how excited you were, like a kid in a candy store. I wanted so bad for you to feel that every time you drove it. so we bought it. We made it work, was it a rash decision? probably, did it bring us joy and memories, bloody oath it did. So it was worth it. Every penny, every complex issue, it was worth every smile it gave you. 

Moving in with my mum to try and save was probably one of the worst decisions we made. But it allowed us to get in front, a little. I remember not caring that we only had a little bedroom to live in, if we could use this to build what was ours, it would be worth it. 

I remember you coming to me and not wanting to work for Greg anymore, we decided that if that was going to be the case we would find something you wanted to do. We obtained your mutual recognition as an electrician and you got a job doing your trade! how exciting! but not for very long. I remember wanting to murder the man who bullied you. How fiercely protective of what was mine, and so angered that it had resulted in you being left without work again. 

But you are smart and resilient, you picked yourself up, you dusted yourself off and we started the hunt for work again. You make yourself useful to every employee and you work hard! I admire that in you, you are such a hard worker, and you want to ensure that you are pleasing everyone. One of the many things that I love about you. 

We lost a dog, it was hard... and I know what we are going through now brings back memories of this. I remember being so stressed, but you were my pillar and I hope that I was yours. we got through it unscathed. It was time consuming, yes, but in the end, we came out on top.  

It then came the day we were moving out of that wretched house, away from the woman who gave us so much grief. Boy could we not be happier that day had come. 

Our new town house, all our own, no eyes, no family, just me and you! finally! we needed that I felt. While we may have bickered, I always ensured you knew how much I loved you at the end of every day. That love is never ending, and I know sometimes you felt like it wasn’t. 

Then I got sick, we couldn’t figure it out, and I was sick for a long time. You supported me, cared for me, and made me whole. I got better after a trip to the hospital and my love for you just continued to flourish and grow.

The time came where we needed to heal our hearts and welcome a new member to our family. You didn’t want another Siberian like I did, you wanted something cool, something different. 

We had stumbled across the Swedish Vallhund in our search years before when we were living in our little two bedroom home. You loved the look and sound of them and I loved that they would have the same energy as Evee who so desperately needed a friend. 

We made it happen, signed the contract and I went to go visit them, you drove 3 hours to come and pick me up from Bendigo. My god I love you. 

Months later, a little baby girl was made available to us, she was a dream come true, so adorable and cuddly, and perfectly ours. She brought us so many laughs and smiles, something to talk about outside of our daily lives. 

I got lost in showing her, I wanted to do it every weekend! now I reflect on it, it was not only about going out and doing something and it being a passion of mine. It was about spending time with you, the love of my life and our dogs. It meant that we weren’t spending every weekend in our house, but out seeing new places, meeting new people. We could talk about new experiences. 

I wanted to do things with you, for you to be involved and it seemed to be good at the beginning, but I know I over killed the ambition. I’m Sorry. 

We welcomed another into our home 6 months later, although it was meant to be temporary, that goofy little boy, you loved him so much. 

I remember the time you came into the kitchen and you told me that I needed to get my licence, that you couldn’t keep being the only driver in the house and it was taking a toll on you. I remember trying to defend myself like I always do, and I am not making excuses, but I was raised a defensive kid. I was so anxious, but the more I thought about it. The more I knew that I needed to do this, for you! I couldn’t let you feel miserable being the only one driving and able to freely move around. 

I thought about what you said long and hard and we began learning, I remember when you first took me out on the road in the wagon. You took me into the back streets of an industrial estate. I sat in the drivers seat for the first time since I was 18. I cried, boy did I cry, I had a full blown anxiety attack, but you held me until I calmed down, you were so patient with me and my heart flew. We drove around that estate for what felt like forever. 

You were patient and kind and reassured me I was doing a good job. But that car made me anxious, all that power, even if it wasn't that bad, I needed a car I would feel safe in. So on the hunt we went. We looked at so many cars, cheap ones, expensive ones, not so expensive ones. We looked together, we test drove so many. 

Finally we bought my car, while it was more than we wanted to spend, it was what made sense. Because it would make you happy and I could drive it and get my licence and you could be a passenger and we could sing together to our favourite music in there. 

I drove and I drove and I drove with you in those back streets, trying to learn how to park, becoming more confident. 

I remember the first time I drove home, you were so proud of me. I remember being so happy that I had made you proud and that I wanted to do this more so that you could continue seeing I was trying to make an effort. 

We welcomed a litter of puppies into the world, squeaky squarky little balls of beautiful fluff. 

We spoke many times over the years about buying or building, looking at houses, looking at land, looking at plans and hopes and dreams. Our vision changed a few times, with many discussions. We settled on maybe looking into acreage, a beautiful block. I’m sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted, I thought we had discussed it and agreed. 

I wanted the acreage not only so I could pursue my dreams, but you would be able to pursue yours too. You had spoken may times about wanting the E30, and a few other cars you could tinker with and rally around. Much to my worry, the thought of losing you to a car accident makes my heart stop. 

I know that the start of this year has been less than ideal, paying two lots of rent, being behind on things and now the dogs in their situation. I know that this puts a real strain on us financially, but we don’t have to do it on our own. Our family and friends are there to help support us. My dad would do anything to ensure that we are looked after, Ayla has offered her support, and I am sure your family wouldn’t let us go homeless either. 

I know that it is hard, because there is no one to blame, and it has put stress on us and we both haven’t been treating each other fairly. For that I apologise, I have been trying so hard not to let what is happening effect how I respond. To make sure I still check in with you and ask you how you are doing and make sure you know I am here to lean on, we could concur anything! 

I know you hate that I never just shut up and let you vent about work without psychoanalysing everything and giving you my thoughts. I try so hard to resist the urge, but it doesn’t come from a place of being right or wrong, it is because I want you to see the positives in situations and not focus on the things that are dragging you down, because everyone has their own stuff happening. It is my way of trying to support you. I hope you know that, and every time I see you make progress or rationalise something that maybe before you would have clung to, I beam, I get so proud of you for being the better person in those situations. 

I know I can be better, and I try to every day. When I say no, I usually say no because I am thinking about you, and us, and the life we want to build together. To make sure we aren’t making stupid decisions, but that is part of growing and learning. We make dumb decisions and then we work our way through them. 

I promise, if you come home, and you want to sell the wagon. We will do it! we will work out what that is going to look like and we will go through with it if it is what you want. If you want to move out of Geelong, we will look for something else. If you want to go back to buying something pre-existing okay lets go. If you want to buy a standard block and live in it for the next 10 years, okay. All I want is to be where you are and I don’t care what that looks like. 

If you never want to move again and you want to rent here for the rest of our lives. Okay, if you want to save slowly and take our time to find our what is right for us, there is no pressure for us to leave here.

I love that you listen and you want to please me, but I also want to please you. Let me listen to you, let me go along with what you want. 

If you want to move back to Adelaide, I will follow you, I would follow you to the ends of the earth if that is what would make you happy because every action I take, every decision we make, we do it thinking about our future. 

I was laying in bed the other day, after Cathryn’s wedding, thinking about how beautiful you looked. How much I loved seeing you all dressed up in that suit, how much I loved you. I began looking at wedding rings, and thinking that, well I could propose to you. 

I started thinking about where I could do it, what were our favourite spots. I didn’t even care that you had been smoking, in truth, it actually made you sexier, don’t ask me how, because you know how much I hate the smell and the taste. Not to mention how may little tiffs we had over it, me trying to understand. But you were just unapologetically you, in all your glory and I didn’t think my heart could be any more full in that moment because I had you. 

I know I put restrictions on recreational drug use, but I never wanted to stop you in full. I just wanted you to be safe, and not have an issue later in life which may be tied to the use. Those actions always came from a place of love, a place that wanted to keep you safe. For whatever reason you hadn’t been doing it much lately anyway, which I found surprising. But had you, it wouldn’t have mattered because you are the most important thing in my life. 

You left, and I have no closure, I don’t know if you are coming back, but by god I would move heaven and earth to bring you home. I keep going over things in my head, what did I do? can I make it better? was it me? was it money? did I gain too much weight? did I not ask what you wanted to do enough? I have so many questions unanswered. 

You need space, and I understand this and I am sorry I did not check in more. 

I miss you more than words can express, I feel like my other half of me is missing and I don’t know how to find it. I am torn in two not knowing if there is anything I can do to make this all seem like a blip in our road. 

Maybe we need time away, from this house, from the stress. at a little cabin or our tent, in the woods or on the beach where it is just us. No one else, no technology, just rediscovery and the comfort of each others presence. 

I honestly cannot express how much you and this relationship mean to me. I don’t care about physical things, I don’t need you to buy me gifts for my birthday or special occasions. I just need you, I’m not hard to please. Being with you has been the easiest thing I have done in my life, because it just made sense. 

I will be yours, always and forever. 

Cass 

[arcadianambivalence]

Les Miserables 2018 Reactions

Episode One

A title card gives a brief summary of the situation in France before dropping us into the day after the Battle of Waterloo, when the “glory” of battle is over and the gore remains. 

 Rather fitting for a series translated to The Miserable (or Wretched) Ones.

Yikes.  British viewers really weren’t kidding about the typeface.  Or that 1970s slasher movie red.

But in all honesty, I like the change in opening.  It’s a bold move, sure, but it grounds viewers in a specific time in history (so only the inattentive can make the “it takes place during the French Revolution” mistake) and functions as a mirror of the eventual end.  

**Book spoilers**

A Ponmercy possibly dead at the scene of a failed conflict?

A man surviving conflict and returning home to be separated from his child by Gillenormand?

Does this not sound like a bitter cycle when we know this story ends in Marius surviving a failed conflict and Valjean surviving conflict and returning home to be separated from his child by Gillenormand(‘s grandson)?

And to top it all off, the title card ends with: “The old order will be restored.  The revolution forgotten.”  Aside from Les Miserables, how often do you hear of the June Rebellion?

The Opening

Rain, mud, dead horses, trees shattered by cannonballs...the cinematography feels Romantic (capital R) already.  A horse flutters its eyes (Is this a reference to Napoleon’s war horse Marengo, famously depicted in Napoleon Crossing the Alps by Jacques-Louis David?)

Thenardier (!) rushes onto the screen, injecting it with a surge of adrenaline.  Laughing (?), he hops from one dead soldier to the next, picking pockets and collecting anything of value he can get his hands on relatively quickly.  And he’s not alone.  There are other looters, and there are British soldiers chasing them in the background.

(Are we supposed to see a parallel between this and the way society is shown to treat its ‘dead’ and ‘dying’? Or are the British soldiers chasing people breaking laws, or at least morals, representative of how the Law works in the series?)

...But I can do without Thenardier cackling the entire time.

Anyway, he starts to loot one soldier crushed under a fallen horse when the soldier regains consciousness and, thinking Thenardier pulled him out for charitable reasons, thanks him for saving his life.  Could it be Baron Pontmercy?

The Pontmercy Plot

In a rare adaptation appearance, a living Baron Pontmercy returns home alive.  The streets of Paris initially seem colorful and thriving, but lintering shots of homeless beggars.  Pontmercy’s father-in-law, Gillenormand, rejects him for siding with Napoleon.  He goes into the “I’m glad my daughter is dead” trope, then ends it with a biting “I thank God I may never see you again.”

“It’s your lot they’re strining up from lamposts now,” Gillenormand says as we are shown a precious toddler overhearing everything. This is Pontmercy’s son, Marius, a little baby boy who will be raised to hate his own father by his grandfather.

Nicolette sneaks out of Gillenormand’s house to tell Pontermcy where he can see Marius at church.

The Fantine Plot - Part 1

A few feet away, a young Fantine is trying to convince her friends that she’s not naive and that she can take care of herself (I’ll wait for a Cosette callback in later episodes).  I like seeing Fantine as a carefree young woman instead of being introduced to Fantine after she had and separated from Cosette.  It makes her slow descent even worse when we see how youngshe is.

Also, we were just introduced to one man who is denied custody of his son by a gatekeeper of society, and now here is a woman who will eventually have to give up custody of her daughter by the circumstances of her society.  Nice parallel!

The Valjean Plot

The yellow filter and the music makes this feel like a Western.  This town ain’t big enough for the both of us, 24601...

Valjean sees one of the guards beating a prisoner and causes an avalanche that pins down the guard (so he visually echoes Pontmercy under the horse in the opening scene).  Why does Valjean attempt murder?  Well, this adaptation’s Valjean senses the injustice and wants to balance out this unjust society through violence (again, foreshadowing).

But when he hears the pinned man’s agony, he realizes he isn’t that person.  He isn’t capable of committing a crime like that without guilt.  So out empathy and guilt, he goes to lift the weight.  A man lifting a weight from a man pinned under debris? Hmm...forshadowing.  A man lifting a weight off someone pinned under the rocks (of society?)  Hmm...symbolic.

Javert, who has been watching the entire thing, stares down at Valjean.  That night, Valjean is brought to Javert’s office.  Javert asks, “What was that about today?”  Valjean looks at him like Because I’m a decent human being?  That’s why...

Javert’s backstory is really, uh, shoe-horned in there, isn’t it?  Could have revealed it later when he unwittingly befriends Madeleine or something...No?

Javert says, “Men like us have only two choices: to prey on society or to guard it.”  And, well, you could view every male character we’ve met so far through that lens: Pontmercy vs. Thenardier and Gillenormand, Valjean vs. Javert.  

But who’s really the one preying on people here?

The Fantine Plot - Part 2

Speaking of prey, Fantine’s out on the town with her friends.  She meets eyes with Felix, and her friend Favourite urges her to be more forward with the attraction.  Felix wastes no time playing the charming dance partner.  The slow music switches to something more lively (and tell me if you don’t have the tiniest reminder of that below-decks dance in Titanicin this moment).

Ugh.  These Fantine night scenes look gorgeous.  Like a (modern) outdoor wedding.

“You have to remember they’re not serious...they’re amusing themselves.” The harsh voice of experience doles out some foreshadowing.  “Why should it always be like that?”  Fantine asks. The voice of change we hear throughout this series, too.

The Fantine section is also filmed like Davies’ more famous adaptations (lulling unwitting audiences into a false sense of security about where this is going...)

So many period drama romance tropes.  It really does feel completely different from any other adaptation I’ve seen in this section.  I like it.

Felix tries every trick in the book: I didn’t care about anyone before you.  I’m going to be a poet, and you’ll be my use.  Have mercy on me, I’m suffering with love for you.  But Fantine has never read the playbook, and she kisses him, despite her doubts.

The Pontmercy Plot - Part 2

In case you weren’t against this prison system before, the prisoners are forced to watch an execution in a brief scene that cuts to Gillenormand saying, “order restored.  Now everyone knows their place again.”

Gillenormand convinces his grandson into believe his dad’s a “scoundrel” for his political stance. Throughout the scene, little Marius is playing with army figurines, too.  Hmm…can you hear commentary about how wrong this situation is yet?  (The book isn’t subtle about this is, either)

Baron Pontmercy is reduced to waiting for a glimpse of his son at church.  It hurts in the book, and it hurts here, too.  Oh, and the religious theme comes in.  (And a nice Mabeuf cameo).

This is a good time for an unpopular opinion: I’m fine with the cuts between the Pontmercy, Fantine, and Valjean stories.  It makes the later inclusion of more characters and the eventual intertwining of some of these plots feel natural.  It also shows how different people in this society suffer completely different unfair circumstances that bloom from this society and culture.

The Valjean Plot - Part 3

Is this what Daves meant by “sexing up “Les Miserables with a nude, underfed, and whipped Valjean?  He’s muscular from forced labor.  Not really sexy.

“You have your name back, Monsieur 24601.”  Hey.  This will be ironic in hindsight!  

Oh, and (un)paid labor for prisoners commentary, too.  Valjean’s furious.  But why wouldn’t he be?  Nearly two decades for petty theft.  And in those conditions.

Valjean carries those barrels like he’s carrying the world.  (Do you see the Jesus symbolism yet?)

But if he carried any hope that life outside of prison would be any more rewarding, he is quickly corrected.  More manual labor with little pay.  Chased away from a place to stay by dogs.  Pointed to the church by a kind woman.  (All in all, pretty book accurate—down to the ensuing conversation)

Cut from one faceless shot of Valjean to the Bishop, connecting the two.

Bishop with spectacles.  Awww.

Valjean has the bluntness that comes across in the translations of the brick (I’ve never read it in French.  Is he blunt there, too?)

The comparison Valjean draws between the religious authority figures in prison versus the Bishop here is a nice book reference, and it shows that he is very much aware of his terrible situation and how imbalanced society is (in and out of prison) versus the (actual) Christian values shown by the Bishop

“How can I love my fellow man when he treats me like a dog?”

“Even if the world has done you a great injustice.  Does it really serve you to have a heart full of bitterness and hatred?”

Ooh.  The quandry at the heart of this adaptation’s Valjean.

So what if it’s on the nose?  It’s for viewers introduced to the book for the first time.  Books are a well.  Shows are a pool.  It’s the detriment of adaptation.

“What about the silverware?”  The bishop, knowing full well it must have been taken by Valjean, “I can’t help you, I’m afraid.”

In the few minutes he’s part of this episode, the Bishop is The Perfect Christian example that Valjean (and even other characters) will follow in various ways

The vulnerability and disbelief in Valjean’s eyes when he realizes somebody’s helpinghim and even covering for him...

Valjean’s little chuckle when he realizes he’s free again

Valjean’s what am I supposed to do with these?look at the candlesticks.  Heh

“Jean Valjean, you do not belong to evil anymore.  You belong to good.  I have bought your soul with this silver and these candlesticks.”  Again in this adaptation, there’s this sense that Valjean didn’t choose to better himself, but it was foisted onto him (the Holy Spirit foisted on him) until he eventually makes the choice to let it in himself

The episode began with Thenardier stealing and showing no signs of remorse.  It ends with Valjean stealing and being presented with the means to turn his life around.  Nice bookends—is what I would say if the episode ended here.  But there’s more!

The Fantine Plot - Part 3

Oh, the “sexing up” was with Fantine and Felix.  Just some family-friendly snuggles as he drops hints he’s going to leave her and her baby.

Fantine has a caged bird in her room.  Symbolism.

Felix, Fantine, and their friends are out on a double (well, tripple) date. The guys tease a “surprise” for the women.  What could it be?  A beautiful day outside.  A meal at a fancy restaraunt.  Could they plan on...proposing?

Nope!  This is a last hurrah before the guys leave to return to their “respectable” families.

I’m surprised we got an abbreviated Felix speech from the book. Didn’t expect that.  And it’s all the more irritating for his character when you know what comes next: the men quietly leave the room as their girlfriends wait excitedly for the “surprise.”  But the light drains from the eyes of all three of the women as they read the “surprise,” a letter stating that their boyfriends (and financial support) are leaving them forever.

The Ending

Meanwhile, Valjean leaves the village, angry at the Bishop for “buying” his soul.  Conflicted, he rests beneath a tree.  Then a little voice grows louder.  Is it--? Yes, it’s Petit-Gervais playing with a sou and singing down the road. Valjean steps on the coin (almost intentionally) and scares Petit-Gervais away.

This is different from the book.  In the book, he goes into a trance during this moment and only realizes he’s standing on the coin later (which conveniently absolves him of guilt in the reader’s eyes).  Here, Valjean is brought back to the reality of his actions by the tolling of the church bell.  He stole from a little boy like the prison system stole from him.  A few scenes ago, he was that little boy.  And he tries to do the right thing and return the coin.  Like in the book, he calls for the boy to come back, but the child is gone, and Valjean is a thief again.

Meanwhile, Fantine returns home to her happy baby.  She moves to curl up on the bed and cry, but the needs of her daughter Cosette draws her back to the world.  Felix is no father, but Fantine is still a mother.

Valjean is free, but Fantine is about to enter a different kind of prison.

Overall, I liked this episode.  There were a few changes I would have made, like concealing Javert’s backstory until episode 2 (or even later) to build up a sense of mystery to him.  Thenardier was too…jovial to me, also.  Finally, that scene of the women gossiping in the woods was unnecessarily choreographed, and I’m surprised PBS actually aired that scene.

When I first heard about some of the adaptational changes, I was wary of this series, but now that I see them in context, they aren’t too bad.  I think an angry Valjean could make for a more dramatic transformation in later episodes.  I loved Derek Jacobi as the Bishop and Lily Collins as Fantine.  

But my favorite choice of this miniseries was the way it made the Valjean plot, the Fantine plot, and the Pontmercy plot run concurrently to highlight the similarities in their situations.  

In the book, Hugo describes Valjean’s situation in one “book,” then switches to Fantine and goes back in time a few years to explore her experiences before her plot meets Valjean’s plot.  It allows for the reader to get invested in each uninterrupted arc, but what works on paper doesn’t translate well to screen.  There must be change.

We’ll see what other page to screen changes were made in the upcoming episodes.  Les Miserables airs Saturday nights on PBS.

[marshaeb]

P.S: I'm Mated With The Cursed Alpha

Chapter Eight

Hey guy! Don’t forget to Like, Comment, Review, and Follow for more updates! My apologies in advance for all the grammatical errors. Book will be professionally edited when completed.

Miserably wretched were the best words to describe me these past three days. Alpha Darius is such an unpredictable case...When you think he could possibly be doing one thing, he’s actually doing the complete opposite.

Ever since he caught me red-handed, I haven’t seen him at all these past few days. At evening times, he wasn’t in his usual spot in the forest, stalking me like the mad man he is. It was awfully weird and stressfully petrifying.

He must have seen the picture... I know he saw it and I know he’s up to something. But the scary part is, I don’t have the slightest clue.

Will he try to harm Jackson? Is that the reason why he suddenly disappeared? Was he out and about looking for him? I just hope not! My heart would literally break into pieces if he does something terrible to him.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took deep breaths to calm my troubling nerves.

Neatly dressed in my colorful scrubs, hair slicked back in a low puff, I stared into the mirror with teary eyes.

Such an unpleasing state to be in now that it’s going to be my first day at the nursery.

Gosh! This is the worst!

Now I have to act like everything’s all fine or else the pups wouldn’t like me...and I’d hate to come to work every day to have to deal with that, plus being stressed out over the big showdown coming on my upcoming birthday. It’s just too much to deal with.

“Joel!” Mom shouted for me downstairs.

She has already prepared breakfast this morning, so I know she’s in a good mood. Normally she’s too busy leading the pack or out on missions to make time to make breakfast.

I know if she even sensed any kind of sourness in me, it will turn her mood off completely.

And Moon goddess if she knows that I’ve carelessly lost my picture of me and Jackson to Alpha Darius, she would lose it completely. If anything, that would be the last thing I would tell her, especially after putting her through so much hell already.

So I wipe my tears away and fan my eyes to cool my stifling nerves as quickly as I can.

Walking down the stairs into the kitchen, the twins were at the counter table, whiles dad sat at the dining. It was where he always sat because it’s high enough to accommodate his wheelchair.

Mom was busy cooking. Frying the third bag of fresh bacon.

“Morning you two!” I said knocking the twins, Sammy and Samantha behind their heads.

I walked over to Dad and kissed him on the cheek.

“And good morning, Alpha,” I said playfully. “Breakfast looks good.”

She smiled at me and handed me my plate. “Here, eat up...it’s nice and hot.” She said.

I looked at my watch and I realized I didn’t have time. “Mom, the nursery starts at 9 am, I don’t have time to stay and eat...”

“That’s fine, as long as you take it with you.” She said.

“I will.”

“Wait...why are you at the nursery?” Samantha asked confusedly as Sammy joined in.

“Yeah, you’re a nurse...” he said.

I looked at them speechlessly than at Mom who seemed a bit put on the spot herself.

They didn’t know the real reason why am at the nursery, and it has to stay that way.

“I-I’m still a nurse...” I said, making everything up as I speak.“It’s only for the experience.”

“Are you...like pregnant or something?” Samantha asked jokingly.

“No!” Mom inserted, “it’s for a course, and mind your manners... When have I taught you to speak that way?”

They both held up their hand to surrender, mumbling beneath their breath.

I nervously cleared my throat and put a cover over my bowl.

“See you guys soon...” I said quickly dashing through the door waving them good-bye.

~~~~~~

So far the nursery was running smoothly. The pups were a bit clingy because they missed their parents but surprisingly enough, I liked it.

I needed some attention and they were giving it all to me. Putting stickers on my face, playing in my puff, embracing me with a countless amount of hugs...it was so therapeutic, but through it all, I was still a bit anxious.

Alpha Darius was really getting a hold of me and I hate it so much! I can’t wrap my head around how he just suddenly, disappeared without a clue as to what he could be plotting against me now that he’s seen that picture.

After putting the pups down to sleep for their naptime, I walked over to the nursery room to check on the sleeping babies. Each of their diapers we’re still in good shape, except for one that was loaded.

I scrunched my nose and gently picked up three-month-old, Daely who was fast asleep. After making a quiet exit out the door, I swear the corner of my eye saw someone walked past. I mean, I thought I did...probably was the shadow of the trees outside.

I took a deep breath, holding little Daely in my arms until I turned and looked through the glass in the door of the day-care room. Alice was the only one sitting up on her sleeping mat.

As I opened the door, she walked over to me and said she needed to ‘go potty’.

Great, that makes two of them now.

As we went into the changing room, I directed her into the bathroom stall with a potty training toilet seat with its stepping stool ladder attached to it.

“Tell me when you’re done, ok Alice,” I said, walking over with Daely to the changing table.

She was still sound asleep. Thank God, but her diaper reeked! I quickly did away with it and changed her up.

That was when the sound of the door opened, but I didn’t look back. It was probably, Ms. Sumter poking her head through each room, making her rounds again. She’s been on me all morning.

“All done,” I said, cradling Daely back into my arms. “Are you done, Alice—

I stopped dead in my tracks...it was as if the wind was knocked right out of me, literally. All I felt was my entire being gradually getting sucked out of my body.

I got to be dreaming... This just has to be a dream.

I took a step back with every step he took towards me as I tried to suppress an ear-screeching scream.

There he was, Alpha Darius...standing right in front of me... wearing a fitted V neck shirt pressed against his bulky biceps. His eyes were dead fixed on me and as I thought, he was furious.

He took another step closer and whispered to me in a dangerously low voice, ”PUT THE BABY DOWN.”

Read Chapter Nine (Click the link below)