#lemony in spirit but not in practice
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Please come join me in spirit if not in body...
regarding my resumption of daily/mostly nightly constitutional
I accompany my dark shadow... (small number of hours before edge of night,
where twilight zone evokes night gallery - drawing celestial sphere closer to me from the outer limits),
and resumed walking a circuit
around perimeter of parking lot imbibing the scent of Mother Nature
beginning today after
a hiatus of countless years - aiming to foster stamina before returning to the contra dance - in Mount Airy after optomitrist Paul Halpern reconfigures pertinent characteristics post cataract surgery to fit appropriate spectacles) meanwhile yours truly (me) exercises his right to bare arms
air supply sustained
by breezy temperate
twenty seventh seal of Bergmanian September two thousand and twenty four, and perhaps if regularly habituate myself to said stroll physical endeavors may one day find me to cantor or trot and stop horsing around.
Yours truly realized modus operandi
to kombat (mortal) lethargy;
last year, he did stride rite around resident parking lot area (here at Highland Manor apartments)
then usually at approximately
19:00 hours each day
casually bumbling and ambling one lap after another
counting one hundred and one,
one hundred and two, one hundred and three...
coordinated with deep breathing
to distract self from repetitiveness.
Modicum of walking exercise benefits this sexagenarian
in tandem yours truly began
burning ghee (my slang for calories) while maintaining sitting position placing each foot in strap and pedalling lightweight machine
against adjusted tension.
Aside from strengthening leg muscles
choosing to while away time
by disciplining myself with former or latter,
both modes of physical fitness
also help keep anguish at bay (plus sublimating, and redirecting formerly tied in with hair compulsion)
mental duress triggered
courtesy of property management
constituting: Zoftig, the warden
and maintenance man, (a recent hire),
the first two whose invisible clutches
asphyxiate me and the missus hounding us to keep
one bedroom apartment in shipshape order and particularly and somewhat unpleasant to wipe away fruit fly feces (cuz exterminator informed us said itty bitty teeny weeny insect breeds within their
yellowish gummy waste matter)
prompting us to Google search senior low income apartment facilities, spurring spurious query wondering
whether any anonymous reader might be able, eager, ready and willing to hand over keys to main lodging
including carriage house, we would even settle for a dog house
or (in a manor of writing) Yukon
assign access rights to access an excellent outlook.
Sense and sensibility concerning
the emotional fallout
brought about by sedentariness
(essentially affecting me to feel glum, melancholy, and ruminative)
helped goad generic indigent solitary man (practically self quarantined
his whole mucked up adult life),
hence not inconvenienced
when coronavirus COVID-19
wrought havoc and mayhem.
Just on the cusp of experiencing joie de vivre,
the triumvirate of Crooks and Quade
figuratively swoop down
to announce re: inspection
of apartment unit B44
whenever they deem appropriate.
Thus series of unfortunate events
(linkedin with bull limey Lemony Snicket bro)
got sidelined nsync with
contracting a minor bout with deadly Amish Flu symptoms include feeling horse and a little buggy found garden variety reasonable rhymer
faux being bedridden (just pretending to get sympathy) once again feigning feeling a little horse and buggy (ha),
incapacitated to craft
original signature poetry writing, cuz for your edification most of these words written at least a couple years ago.
An honest to dog confession
regarding hiatus spewing forth vociferous versatile vocabulary
mine words - worth their weight in gold (told woofer I do not know), nevertheless
included perusing a gamut of reading material.
The passion to engross intellect
witnessed courtesy immersing
attention, concentration, excitation gratification, intoxication;
knowledge prized more precious
than fine spun gold.
Likewise crafting (albeit painstakingly)
elusive notions that flit to and fro hither and yon (analogous to ping pong ball)
within parameters of
microscopically crenellated
sixty plus shades of gray matter
also constitutes fervent interest.
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23 with all the Witcher characters you'll write
Anon.
-squishes your face-
Anon I love you. I wish you nothing but the absolute best life anyone could ever imagine, because you have given me such a gift.
Characters included here: Jaskier, Aiden, Lambert, Geralt, Eskel, Vesemir (let’s be real, he’s just there for the snacks. Catch him filling his pockets with nuts and pastries to horde in his office). Prompt: orgy
(edit most of the way through writing this: HOW THE FUCK DID I WRITE SOMETHING FOR THE PROMPT ORGY AND INCLUDE NO SEX, I JUST-)
--
Despite popular believe, Jaskier had the best ideas.
The entirety of his previous afternoon had been spent with preparations for the event. It had only taken a little bit of bribing to convince Vesemir that this wasn’t going to end horrifically or with some destruction or another, and really only another bottle of (very expensive) wine as the cherry on top to be given permission to use the mess hall in Kaer Morhen as the location. Though honestly, there wasn’t anywhere else that would have suited the party - so Jaskier was very glad no more bribing was in order there.
If he was honest, convincing everyone to take part in it was the easy part. One really didn’t know the definition of ‘sexually repressed’ until one met a horny witcher who was trying to deny himself the lusts of the skin and Jaskier could count on his first three fingers some witchers that suited that bill to the T.
The fact that he knew exactly five made that rather sad, but he digressed.
With some rather flirtatious invitations, Jaskier had secured participation, but that was only phase one of his plans. After that was making it an actual party, an event, because there was no way in all of the fresh hells that he would let this be even close to mediocre.
So, the table settings began.
At the end of the evening he found himself spinning in glee, hands clapped in front of his face, fingers touching his lips as he admired his handiwork. All done by himself - the boys could all thank him later for his hard work, since he’d wanted it to all be a surprise for the lot of them, and he had honestly outdone himself.
He hoped no one asked how he got the flowers during this time of year. Some secrets were better left untouched.
It was close to dark, the outside colors bringing in brilliant oranges and purples, when Jaskier set off to round everyone up. Geralt was the first person he found - a given, really. He’d spent enough time traveling around with him that he knew exactly where he’d be, the exact position he’d be in on his bed as he sharpened his sword (because his daggers would have been the first he sharpened, and it was too late in the evening for him to be starting on the task), no doubt trying to pretend like he wasn’t looking forward to anything or affected by the thought of such an event.
His rather tight pants gave him away, though. With a very firm kiss to his delicious lips and a swipe of his eager tongue, Jaskier let Geralt know it was ready. He tugged him up off the bed and patted his arse and sent him on his way, determined to find everyone else before he went down himself and got far too distracted.
The grumbling he heard from his witcher just made him smile more.
It took a little longer to locate Eskel, but Jaskier had figured it easier to find him than the others. Surprisingly he hadn’t been out visiting Lil’ Bleater, the little lady having already been put up snug in her bed, bleating out so cutely when she saw Jaskier that he had to spent a few minutes giving her some love before he went on his way. As he did, he couldn’t help but think about how witchers just...really did love to imprint on animals. Geralt with his precious Roach, Eskel with his classy lady. He wondered what sort of animal Vesemir might relate to, or Lambert?
Wait, no, he didn’t want to know that second one. He blinked in horror and set that thought firmly to a forgotten corner of his mind to grow dust.
Instead of finding Eskel with his adorable little lady, Jaskier ended up running into him in the kitchen. It had been the smell of some wondrous pastries that had clued him in, drawing him in like the hungry sweets demon he was, his fingers already itching to snatch some up and run away with his booty.
Not that he really needed to steal one. It was just more fun that way.
Sure enough, his nose had not lied to him. Eskel was pulling out some of his own handmade and famously delicious apple pastries out of the oven just as Jaskier peeked his head in, and his mouth watered just at the sight. Also, dare he say it, but Eskel was very cute with flour dusted on his spikey, scary shirt.
“Are those for little ol’ me?”
Eskel didn’t startle at his voice but Jaskier didn’t expect him to, used to the terrifyingly good hearing that came with all of the other witcher mutations. “You did say snacks, right? Figured these might do.”
“Oh! Oh, Eskel,” Jaskier felt his eyes tearing up, skipping into the kitchen and just stopping himself from flinging his arms around his now officially second favorite witcher. He skidded to a stop right in front of him, wringing his hands with emotion to keep from burning himself or Eskel (or accidentally impaling himself on said scary spikey shirt). “You really didn’t have to, I had the snacks all set up and planned out, but I’m ever so touched you did! Oh, these will make the perfect addition.”
“They have to cool first, Jask.” Eskel had a very knowing twinkle in his eye as he stepped around the bard, going to place the flat pan on a rack he had set up on the table. “I’ll bring them down when they’re ready, then you can have one.”
Jaskier pouted, eyeing the pastries and wondering if it was worth burning both his fingers and his tongue on them. Which, yes, it was, but he’d rather not disappoint the pastry chef. So he deflated with a deep sigh, content in knowing that he’d get some later - and that Eskel very much did not forget about his plans.
Vesemir was next on his list, and it only took one single stop by his office to remind him. All Jaskier had to do was knock on his door and wait patiently for Vesemir to say he could come in, then he poked his head in to see if he’d be joining them.
“I’ll be there.”
That’s all the answer Jaskier got, and he considered it good enough. With him checked off the list, there was only two left, and they would thankfully be easy to locate this evening. They weren’t usually - well, Lambert by himself was. But any time Aiden was joining them for the winter Lambert was made scarce, always off doing something with his dear friend, and that something was usually mischief.
Aiden was a wonderful and a horrid influence on Lambert, and everyone adored him for it. Most of the time.
Luckily, Jaskier already knew where they were. He’d heard their training all the way in the keep and made his way to the training grounds, stopping by Geralt’s room to steal one of his coats on his way, not willing to face the cold with his own considering Geralt’s were much warmer (even if much less fashionable - had the man never heard of color?).
As it happened, they’d just recently stopped their training session - luck considering how long they’d go some evenings. Both of them had abandoned their shirts at some point, maybe even right at the start of their training, though Jaskier wasn’t sure how either of them could stand it when the snow in some places came up to his shins.
Stupid sexy witchers. It was entirely unfair. Both the cold resistant part and the sexy part.
“Hey, little songbird.” Aiden stretched his arm back and rested it against his shoulder, dangling his sword behind him and watching as Jaskier’s eyes followed the movement. “S’time already?”
With his mouth suddenly quite dry, and what with his feet suddenly not knowing how to walk in snow, Jaskier had to stumble out some sort of an answer. Not that he could really hear it, he was paying too much attention to how Aiden flexed his arm just so - damn stupid sexy witchers.
Lambert laughed at him without a single ounce of pity, and if Jaskier’s brain wasn’t currently melting he would have pointed out that the same damn tricks worked on him if Aiden wanted them to. At least Aiden took some pity on him after that, heading back to the keep and shooting him a wicked grin as he brushed past him.
Even with all the snow, it was suddenly a bit too warm for the coat he’d nabbed.
But that - that was everyone. Jaskier shook himself, a wide grin blooming on his face, the cold air biting at his cheeks and nose. Everyone was headed to the mess hall, the snack tables and punch were all ready. Eskel had been kind enough to make some of his apple pastries which would be a big hit. And! Jaskier had procured enough lubricant that they wouldn’t all be regretting it come the morning.
He rubbed his hands together as he turned around, hurrying back to get to the mess hall himself. This, without a single doubt, was his best idea yet - and hands down a night that he would always remember.
#written over several days and not proofread not sorry#how do i even tag this#jaidertaltesk#...that just looks like the typical Gay Panic Keyboard Smash#big poly#jaskier#aiden#lambert#geralt#eskel#vesemir#the witcher#fanfiction#mywriting#crosspost later#i'm not saying Vesemir WOULDN'T join in on a big smexy pile#i'm just saying he saw snacks and has his priorities straight#....how did I manage to write for This Prompt and not include anything close to Lemony?#lemony in spirit but not in practice#Anon love#asks
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please don’t go
Ushijima x Reader - Scenario
@moonlightaangel‘s event request: “congrats on reaching 600 followers!! 🥰 can i request ‘please don’t go’ with ushijima, if it hasn’t been requested yet! i need some angsty feelings in my life”
a/n: mmmm angsty Ushijima is my aesthetic :,,)) i also messed around with some flashback formatting, so i hope you enjoy!!
warnings: angst, breakups
wc: 1640
---
“Please don’t go.” It’s a soft, tearful whisper.
“I thought you would understand, y/n. We had established this.” His reply was blunt. Like a dull knife to the chest, digging deeply only to pull right back out, leaving you gushing and writhing at his words.
“Please don’t.” Your cry reached his ears this time.
“I need to focus.” He sighs, twinging with guilt.
Why didn’t you understand? Had you not known that his career would come first? Above everything else?
Or had he misspoken at some point, giving you the false assurance that this relationship would work forever? That he could always treat you as though it were possible to balance both you and his life’s work.
“Then I won’t distract you! Just don’t leave me. Please.” You begged, knees painfully falling to the cold floor, but your cries fell on deaf ears.
He remains resistant to change. Without accommodations. Nothing left to give or take.
“Maybe someday, y/n. But this isn’t working out for me anymore. I have to leave for now.” Ushijima’s response is icy.
He meant for those words to somehow be heartening. Promising, even. That maybe this was just the wrong time and place for a relationship. Where time could ebb and flow and someday he would be able to draw you back into his life.
Yes, there would be a day where you could take priority.
Because he wanted you… but not above his first love. Not above his skills and lifestyle. Not enough.
Volleyball comes first. Plain and simple.
And for that, he wouldn’t compromise.
---
White, crisp linens and fresh lemony scents.
Fluffed pillows fitted with new covers and soft patterns. Feather filled duvets. Curtains drawn to keep out the early morning light.
Everything has stayed clean, clear, and Pristine. Even the dust particles, dancing around the room, have always seemed to find their own peace, settling mildly in gentle formations.
You sleepily blink open your eyes, rustling your arms over the bedspread to what should be a happier sight. Soft pillows hugging your sides, the gentle birdsong outside your window, a conceivably delicious cup of coffee to be made in the kitchen.
Yes, you should be filled with contentment. You were safe. Physically you were fine, and nothing was on your checklist for today.
In fact, things had appeared fine for months now...
Yet all you notice is who’s missing.
There’s no longer a delicate divet where his dozing head used to lay. The scent and shape of the pillow had only recently dissipated thanks to your citrusy laundry detergent and the slow passing of time.
You don’t awaken to a recently showered, olive-green eyed boyfriend. You could still picture the water droplets, hanging freshly on the tips of his tufts of hair. How the towel draped around his neck, over his shoulders, catching the drips and drops as they fell.
That warm smile he shared with you before placing a chaste kiss upon your forehead, caressing the side of your face. It was pure. You can almost feel the ghost of his lips. Still lingering. Mocking you.
You were liberated from his presence… but you never wanted to be.
Being absorbed in his chaotic life had kept you busy, but you had never minded it. There was never a doubt in your mind that volleyball would be his first priority. That he would follow his passions. His plans. His abilities.
You just wanted to tag along. To sincerely celebrate his victories and mourn his losses. Supporting him and holding onto him when he needed it. Yes, he got home late at night, left early in the morning, and only connected with you on his very few off days… but you cherished every second of it.
Because you loved him. You poured your soul into watching him flourish and thrive. It made you feel whole.
However, eventually, to Ushijima, you started to rival volleyball, becoming a distraction. He had made space for you in his already complicated life. And at first, it was a welcome change. A breath of fresh air to his methodical and planned out character. You were complex, bringing new perspective and sunshine into his typically boring apartment. Beautiful in a natural, yet eye-catching way. Furthermore, you somehow knew how to keep up with his hectic pace along with his gruff personality.
In every aspect, you were perfect.
Expect one.
You were a diversion from the life he had in mind.
And even though you never pushed him to give you more… he longed to give you more of his attention. More time. To share his success with you. To love you deeper. To give you what you deserved. Because you are a profound being… and it burdened him to have to choose between his two greatest desires.
But, as most things do, these thoughts of love and devotion go unspoken, coming out all wrong. Mangled, unemotional, and misrepresented. Looking back, Ushijima wishes he’d been able to express it to you with empathy. To erase the tears that followed his brutal narrative. But softness isn’t his strong suit… and he needed you to know that, as powerful as he was, he wasn’t strong enough to balance you and volleyball.
---
“Ushijima, if you leave…” You take a deep breath, tears slipping down your face, “... you have to promise me you’ll never come back.” You choke out, your request came out in a sobering snarl.
For a moment, you question your own words- but your dignity was on the line.
“You can’t just break up with me and expect me to be there when you get back. I’m not disposable, you know?”
His body goes rigid. He hadn’t meant it that way.
You meant more to him than words could express… so why couldn’t he get it out clearly enough? How could he make you understand the gravity of his choices?
“...Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like that. I just need to concentrate right now.” The alarm, though subtle, shines in his eyes.
His usually composed, confident figure began to show cracks of uncertainty. He didn’t want you out of his life… Not at all.
He just needs you out of his mind for the time being. Just until he had things settled. You could come back at some point and he could love you so well. Just the way it was supposed to be.
But clearly he’d struck a deeper chord. He’d selfishly assumed you would wait for him. You weren’t some prized pony.
You’re a person. Someone with worth, plans, and dreams, just like him. He’d failed to acknowledge just how demeaning the truth of his actions were. But it’s too late.
You haven’t replied and the pain is etched intricately across your face.
“Okay, fine.” He breathes in deeply, letting out one final exhalation of defeat, “I... I’m sorry, y/n.” His brows furrow in deep, conflicted thought, but his mind is made.
He won’t be back.
---
Ushijima’s life hasn’t changed much.
It’s the same old routine. The standard, grueling workouts. Typical volleyball practice, group meetings, finances, paychecks, physicals, doctor’s appointments, fan meet-n-greets.
The usual.
But there’s a void settling like glacial frost in his soul. A snowy blue that seemed to melt into his bones, slowing him down.
He didn’t go a week… a day... a minute without thinking of you.
Even now, lying in bed, the room cloaked in a tranquil darkness, you rest on his mind.
It’s not just the emptiness of the bed or the lack of physical touch. It’s the bitter, clawing memories of what he’d done to you and your gentle spirit. His body is frigid and forever frozen in the recurring visions of his foolish explanations, by how heartless and indifferent he’d seemed.
He’ll never get over the venomous tinge to your words.
You’d felt used.
He’d never meant to make you feel that way.
But since he moved out of your apartment, everything has felt glaringly hollow. The icy, barren tundra he crosses every time he realizes he won’t come home to your sunbeam smile and those thoughtfully lit candles, wears on him. How you would lavish him in comforting words, lulling him into a restful sleep.
Ushijima hardly remembers the last time he slept well.
Those dark circles under his eyes follow him everywhere. His whole team can see the exhaustion seeping into his execution of serves and spikes. He’s never struggled with his game performance before, but somehow the crashing reality of you leaving him has broken his patterns and systems.
He’s weary from searching for an answer to his emotions. Your warmth gave him life… and with that gone, what was the point of all of this?
And then it struck him, the realization sinking its needle-sharp claws into his soul, shredding it in seconds.
He’d found something far more valuable than any unique skill. More remarkable than the legacy he’d built as a world-class volleyball player. Someone who wanted to be with him just for the sake of… love.
And for the first time since he was young, he lets a tear slip into his white pillowcase.
Just one.
But it’s for you.
Because in chasing after what made him feel known and alive...
He’d lost the only person who had ever wanted to show him that he was important all along. The only person who was satisfied with his bizarre schedules. Someone who expected nothing more than gentle kisses and weekend dates.
But you were right.
You aren’t dispensable. Nor are you someone to drop for the purpose of picking up later, like loose change on a sidewalk. You deserved to be cherished. Held tightly. Given the love that you offered others.
He wishes he’d listened when you’d pleaded with him to stay. That he’d thought it through and functioned on more than just logic and reasoning. If only he’d known what it really meant to choose you.
Because if you were here now, he’d be the one begging,
“Please don’t go.”
---
tags: @cherryonigiri, @yams046, @kaidasen, @miss-rin
(comment or send an ask to be added to my general tag list)
#haikyuu#haikyuu x reader#ushijima x reader#ushijima#hq#ushijima scenarios#ushijima imagine#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu imagines#haikyuucreations#hq ushijima#hq scenarios#hq imagines#shiratorizawa#haikyuu angst#haikyuu fanfiction#600 follower event#sneezefiction
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Monster March Day 21- Ghost- My Samantha Part 1
Actually here’s another story idea that I’ve been sitting on for a while but while I wrote out the basic plot in a google doc. I never really developed the story much beyond that. Until Monster March had a ghost prompt and I was like - Hey! I got one of those! But of course with a twist. My inspirations for this story were The Money Pit with Tom Hanks from 1986. And Awake, where a detective travels from one parralel reality to the other every time he goes to sleep and dreams and he doesn’t know which one is the reality and which one is the dream. But with a few twists, obviously. Going forward, triggar warnings are mentions of previous abuse but never from the reader’s direct immediate perspective. Major character death (that’s how we are getting the ghost) and pregnancy and of course possible graphic depictions of how pregnancy is achieved. Aka sweet lemony smut.
As always thanks to @catbatart for sharing Monster March with me. Enjoy.
My Samantha
Part 1
You walked around the house, half expecting someone from the Victorian era just around the corner to greet you in their attire that matched the era of the house.
The large Victorian mansion apparently was immune to the passage and change of time. One of the previous owners of the house had used it as a summer home from the late 1980’s, early 90’s. And you’d expected that the house be “dated” but not quite like this. You were almost afraid to breathe. You held the hands of each of your little ones who were barely toddlers and you felt like that if you let go of their hands- they would no doubt run around break some priceless antique that surrounded you and were everywhere you looked.
But there, on the walls were two traditional portraits. One of a young family from the Victorian time period, a parent and two sons and a daughter, and one of an older man, highly decorated when he served in the first and second world wars.
For being so old- and being furnished with all original Victorian time period furniture- it was surprisingly updated as far as amenities and appliances. There was the “old” kitchen, with a working antique stove and other time period appropriate items. Complete with practically glittering copper bread and cake molds and pots and pans from the period. It looked almost like a museum, or like you were on the set of Downton Abbey. And then of course there was the “new” kitchen, completely brand new and renovated and perfectly modern. There were the “old” bathrooms and the “new” bathrooms, “old” bedrooms and “new” bedrooms. There were electrical sockets and light switches to ceiling fans and HVAC consoles for the heating and central air conditioning peeking out of emerald green walls in the living room. Which- the realtor assured you that none of the paint or wallpaper and any lead or arsenic in them since the owners from the 90’s had restored and replaced all of the harmful components while keeping the “soul” and “spirit” of the house intact. There was even a pool house and a pool!
It was as if two houses, one modern and one stuck in a time capsule inhabited the same space and for being so different seemed to blend in flawlessly with each other and co-exist in perfect harmony.
What you didn’t understand was how a house, practically a mansion this size and with these amenities was so cheap. You were sure a house this wonderful in this housing market would go for millions of dollars. Even the furniture should have been worth a small fortune for every piece. But the house and all of its contents were being offered in the one big “estate” that you were looking to buy. But it was strangely- well within your little, and honestly, pitiful budget And you didn’t understand how it could be so “cheap”. And what really surprised you is once you adjusted to it, the more you walked around it- the more comfortable you felt in it. Your grip on your little one’s hands loosened up. It seemed- very warm and inviting. Like this home was always meant to be your home.
You were barely even listening to the realtor- Gretchen, as she babbled on about the history and what the previous owners and house flippers had done to it. Until you heard one- unmistakable word- “money pit”.
“I’m sorry, did you say money pit?” You asked her.
“Yes, I think this house was probably the inspiration for the movie “The Money Pit” with Tom Hanks. The original builders, the Maywhethers, built this home and poured their massive fortune into building this home. And then their only surviving son ended up dying just after getting home from the second world war. He had never married and never fathered any children- at least to anyone else’s knowledge. And then this estate was practically lost in probate for decades because the house belonged into a trust with the local lawyer firm- Mayers Law Firm and Trust which has been the first and oldest law firm in the city. They were the ones who helped General Maywhether put the house and all of its contents into the trust. It is why it has it’s original furnishings now.” She explained as she gestured to the other antique furniture.
“And apparently General Maywhether had stipulated that it would go to either a set of orphans he didn’t get a chance to adopt from the first world war when he was stationed in England, or another set of orphans from the second world war where he was stationed in France. Unfortunately, he died before he could adopt any of them or could give it to them as an inheritance. But none of them could ever afford to move here, get work and pay to live in it. And since he was of no real blood relation to themselves, they politely declined the estate because they could never hope to afford the inheritance taxes either here or in their home countries of England or France. And so the Mayers broke the trust up and separated the house from the rest of the trust since part of the trust said that if none of his intended heirs accepted the house- it could be sold and the proceeds would go to the four children between England and France. However, no one in the area could ever afford it and it went on the market originally in the 50’s but it never sold.” She explained as she gestured to the house in general.
“So it sat empty for another 2 decades and the Mayers’ lawyer firm itself was responsible to keep the house clean and all of its original contents in pristine condition, as per the trust’s instructions. But one of the Mayers, who was a lawyer- he served with the General, under him, I believe, in the army in both world wars and the two were very close friends. So he had promised his friend that he would take care of the house and it’s contents and made sure it went ‘to someone who would love it and be deserving of it’, or so I’ve heard from Mr. Mayers, the grandson of the original Mr. Mayers who served in the army with General Maywhether.” Gretchen began to explain.
“Huh,” you hummed.
“And that was until the Stilinkies got it- in the late 1970’s and they didn’t want to pay for the house and it’s furniture since the furniture alone was an equal worth of the house itself and they could only pay for the house and the house itself is all that they wanted. So yet again, the firm had to come in and clear out all of the home’s furnishings and put them into storage. The Stillinkies brought electricity and plumbing into it and began to modernize it all through the late 70′s and all through the 80’s and early 90’s. The Stilinkskies, also sunk in a fortune trying to get this house into the “modern age”. They also used this as their summer home between here and New York City.” She recalled.
“But when the stock market crashed in the 80’s, Mr. Stilinskie of course- being a big-shot on Wallstreet, he unfortunately overdosed on cocaine when his wealth practically vanished overnight since he had dumped just as much money into the house as he did his cocaine habit. Then Mrs. Stillinskie tried to use her husband’s life insurance money to finish modernizing the house but sadly she could never finish it or pay off the mortgage. Then the house has been flipped by three other couples, all of them trying and failing to turn a profit. Despite pouring all their blood, sweat and tears into it. And it has yet again gone into foreclosure and with such a reputation, no one else wants much of anything to do with it. And the bank is adamant that this house will sink the bank because every bank that has held this house into foreclosure has gone out of business and closed within a month of this house being in foreclosure in the bank’s ownership unless the bank either sold it to a home owner or sold it to another bank and each time it has sold- the price has gotten cheaper and chearper and the bank is three weeks into it and no other bank will buy it. Which I’m sure it’s just a coincidence. However the bank is still practically sweating bullets.” She laughed nervously as it obvious she was sweating bullets herself as she smiled and talked through her gritted teeth.
“So the bank is very desperate to get this house off of it’s hands so that’s why they are only asking for ten thousand dollars for the house and it’s furnishings. And any property taxes on the house are not calculated on what it is actually worth, but by what it sells for- as per the original trust agreement. So if you were to buy this house, your mortgage would only be a hundred dollars a month and taxes would be much less than that and your utilities would probably be your largest monthly expense. Because it is a big house and while it does have a well for water, you still have to pay for electricity which runs the HVAC system. But all the inspectors keep giving it perfect bills of health and that there isn’t anything wrong with anything in the house itself. The foundation is solid, the plumbing is up to date and perfectly functioning and the electrical work is flawless. It has no mold, no mildew, no pests, nothing. There is nothing else that anyone could possibly do to the house to improve it.” She desperately praised.
“But the local bank does not want to take any chances and they are just practically begging for someone to take this wonderful house off of their hands which is why they have slashed the prices so low. And the Mayers’ Law Firm is anxious to re-unite the furnishings with the house which is why they were moved in here, exactly how they always had been before so they don’t have to worry about dividing up the trust any more than it already has been. But as you can see the house is perfectly fine and sound now. All it needs is someone to love it and live in it.” She insisted before both of your children turned to the painting of the decorated army general and laughed.
“Daddy!” They both said as they pointed to the picture as you could have sworn, out of the corner of your eye- you could almost see the picture smiling at them but when you looked at the painting, it hadn’t changed, or at least, to you it hadn’t. The man in the picture looked stoic but kind. And while you were sure he was battle hardened, there was a softness in his face and a sweet kindness in his eyes as the kids left your side to sit in front of the working fireplace and look up at the painting as your toddler son starting babbling in-cohearant words at the picture while your daughter simply smiled up fondly at it.
“Aww, see they love it already, you’re practically all home!” The realtor cooed happily, with a forced calm as she avoided looking at the paintings altogether.
“So what else would you like to see?” She asked.
“The papers, where do I sign?” You asked.
“Right here.” She smiled in relief as she had the paperwork already drawn up and ready to sign and this came with the great benefit of being able to move in immediately. The ink wasn’t even dry on the paperwork before she very hastily and eagerly handed you the keys, like if she held onto them any longer they were going to burn her.
“Congratulations on your new, beautiful, wonderful home! You’re free to move in immediately. Tonight if you wanted to!” She offered to you as she practically scooped up all the paperwork and dumped it rather haphazardly into her briefcase, quickly said her goodbyes and then raced out of the driveway, practically smoking an entire of pack of cigarettes on the way out and wiping off her makeup that she had sweated off while she showed you the house.
“Come on kids, let's go get our things from the motel, we can stay the night here.” You urged them before you brought them back to the motel you were staying with- with your little ones.
The reason for your current, rather dire circumstances, was that your soon to be ex-husband was becoming physically abusive on top of being a narcissistic asshole. And you did not want to raise your children with him just in case his temper turned on them. He only ever hit you once, but that was already one too many times.
And no sooner had he done it and gone to bed in a drunken stupor before you took your children and left him that very night, you went to town and filled up your gas tank as full as it could go. You took out all of your debit cards and credit cards because he could track you through any purchase histories on those. You went to the local ATM and took out as much money as the ATM would allow but left your check card in the ATM itself and left your cellphone with your cards and your checkbook on the counter with a note- describing what he had done to you and what he had been doing to you for a while now and why you left. But that the next time he would hear from you- was when you got a divorce lawyer and he got served divorce papers. You had watched enough crime dramas to know that in order to disappear, that was what you needed to do.
You packed only the absolute essentials for yourself and your children as quickly and quietly as you could into the car and just drove, vanishing into the night. You drove until your gas tank was almost empty where you found a little town with a women’s shelter that was in the opposite direction of where your family lived. Since you expected him to wake up and go that way, trying to catch up on you since you purposefully got all the important numbers out of your cellphone but otherwise left it there at home so he couldn’t use it to track you and your car was old enough and cheap enough that it didn’t have anything like Onstar or any other way to track it. And while you could only listen to the radio and drive rather blindly in the dark without your phone and it’s GPS. You got here and you got to the women’s shelter.
You would rather raise them alone than raise them with him. And doing whatever you could to stay out of his life and keep your children away from him and safe from him, was what you did. Granted staying in the women’s shelter wasn’t fun, and getting a cheap cellphone so you could call your family and tell them what happened but made all of them promise and swear to you to never tell your ex your new number or where you were now.
Thankfully they all agreed and thankfully they all told your husband that you were just gone. They didn’t know where but that they were happy that you left him and they tried to send you some money so that you could feed yourself and your kids and at least get pull ups for your son who was still in the process of being potty trained. And the last bit of money your parents and siblings and their families could give you- was to help you move out of the shelter and into the motel. Because the shelter had a cap on how long you could stay and the motel was the cheapest place to stay in the town.
But the motel gave you a much cheaper rate in exchange for being a maid for the motel because the motel couldn’t keep a maid to save it’s life. And if you were used to cleaning up after your husband and kids, you could get used to cleaning motel rooms. Plus the motel room had a microwave and a minifridge and a lot more privacy than the shelter. And you felt like you had your life just a little more together than just living in the shelter. First it would be the motel, then maybe an apartment. But the job was a way to make money and try to stand on your own two feet.
Until…you learned that every apartment in the town that was available was actually worse than the motel and were literally “slums” for what you could afford. But the town did have a lot of empty foreclosed houses from the local bank available. So you did all you could to try and save everything penny you could. Only shopped at the dollar store that was within walking distance so you didn’t have to pay for gas to drive anywhere while you lived in the motel with your kids and worked as a maid.
And because of the kind of motel it was and where it was- so many prostitutes used a room for their own private businesses. And you befriended all of them while you stayed there while a social worker tried to help you get some kind of state and federal government benefits. The prostitutes though, were surprisingly very understanding and protective of you and especially your little ones. And they would take turns and watch your kids in exchange to keep their preferred rooms perfectly clean and the linens changed up to ten times a day and night.
And their “Johns” often splurged on them and left you hefty tips to clean the mess they made out of the rooms each time. And you made more money in tips than you did in an hourly wage, which was still just minimum wage and was not enough to live off of because half of your paycheck went into actually renting the room, even at the discounted rate. But money was money and you were grateful that you had the job and could earn what you could.
But because of the hefty tips from the Johns, it was how you actually made more money working there as a maid than anywhere else you had ever worked in your life. And how and why you could save as much as you could in such a short 6 months since leaving your abusive ex.
Who despite hounding your family and even doing “surprise visits” to all of them and their families- looking for you and yet had not found you yet and your new number was hidden in thier phones under another name and every time they “called you” your old phone that you left with him- was the only thing that rung and he tried to run a missing person’s report and a stolen car. But because your parents had pictures of the note that you had written since you had taken that picture and pictures of your bruises and sent them via a burner phone- the police didn’t follow through. But because you weren’t there to press charges of domestic assualt on him- he was free. But at the same time- so were you.
And what was really great is that the motel only counted that you only got 2-3 dollars in a tip once a day- instead of the $20-$50 you were getting up to 10 times a day- per the 20 prostitutes that liked to keep to one stretch of rooms that were on the backside of the hotel that had easy and discrete access for their Johns. And none of them had a pimp but had formed a community of themselves.
But when you came back to the motel- you did promise to keep working at the motel as a maid and the prostitutes were really happy that you had found a place. But they all insisted that you not tell them or the manager of the motel where you were living now. Just in case your ex did show up- all of them could honestly say that you had only stopped through once and then left again. And while you weren’t going to be staying there anymore, you were still going to do your usual hours. And if the the tips kept pouring in like this- you could easily afford “proper” childcare as you readily enrolled your children into a daycare, the same daycare all of the prostitutes put their children into. All of them assured you and reassured you that the daycare itself was actually a really good one and that your children would be safe there and well taken care of there.
But besides your friends that you made at the motel, and the case worker, you were otherwise rather alone. You had no other family nearby and your ex-husband’s family thought you were “the evil daughter in law” for taking their grandchildren away from them while excusing everything their son ever did to you. And Casey was grown, but his mother still treated him like he was her little perfect prince charming. When all he really was- was a spoiled, entitled, narcissistic man child, who could be handsome and charming when he wanted to be.
But somehow you got this beautiful, wonderful home- for practically a song. And driving into the driveway had you feeling such immense relief, that you were driving home. Any and all previous weariness and unease you felt previously when you followed the realtor into the driveway of this house, was gone. Since it was the first one she absolutely insisted on you seeing and was practically drooling at the prospect of someone “new in town” looking for a house and even though your budget was small, she assured you that there were plenty of houses in your budget and well within your income even as small as it officially was and that’s when she started talking about this house and how it was the perfect house for you.
Yet when you came into your new home, even though it had been empty for a long time- it was remarkably spotless and perfectly clean. Maybe the realtor had hired a maid service to come to clean it before the showing, or even the law firm did. You had gotten good at spotting messes working at the motel but there wasn’t a single one here.
What surprised you- was that were dishes in the cupboards, both new and the same china that had originally been with the house. There were laundry supplies in the “new” laundry room. And the house looked and felt lived in- like an Airbnb but better.
And once you unpacked your kid’s clothes into the dressers in the various rooms, you really felt at home. Your toddler son Edward, or Eddie, who was only 2, preferred the old style nursery. It had an old crib and came with all kinds of toys and was sailboat themed and had a rocking chair and a toychest full of toy boats and toy planes and blocks and perfect- age appropriate toys for a toddler and Eddie squealed with glee when he came into the room and immediately went for the toy chest to play with his new toys while you put his clothes away. Even the linens in the crib smelled fresh, like they had just been laundered that day.
And your other child, Elizabeth, or Lizzy- who was 4- preferred the old style child’s bedroom that was clearly meant for a girl. Everything was pink and frilly and looked like a princess should be sleeping here as there was even a dollhouse. Almost an exact replica of this grand home was in her room, and the furnishings of the dollhouse matched the original furnishings of the home. And it even came with a whole toy chest full of dolls and other toys. And the two rooms were right next to each other and closest to the master bedroom which was still in the old Victorian style.
You let your children play with all the toys in the nursery as you moved into the master bedroom that one side was clearly meant for a woman as the styles of the furnature on this side of the room was clearly feminine while the furnature on the other side of the room was clearly masculine. So you readily started to unpack your meager clothes into the very feminine dresser. You opened the top drawer of the dresser to put your few bras and your few pairs of underwear into the drawer. But when you opened the drawer- you found a pink purse. It was a rather timeless style and you couldn’t quite place what time period is belonged to. And you didn’t recognize the brand it was. But it was a really nice purse.
And you were shocked when you opened it- it was full of money. Like- new money. Like just got it from the bank- new money. Had one of the previous couples that tried to flip the house- leave this purse here? You took the money out and looked for any kind of ID or anything that would suggest that this purse and it’s contents belonged to someone else.
But while there was a matching wallet with even more money in it, there was no other forms of identification, nothing. Just…money. All you found besides the money was a small notebook with a pen. But the notebook was blank. Otherwise the only other thing in the purse, was a rollerball of perfume. Those were the only objects in the purse. And yet you somehow got the distinct impression and feeling like this was your purse, and your money.
The purse was peculiar, and a rather old, but classic and very well made purse. It was made out of leather with a silk lining. The roller ball of perfume in a pocket inside of it didn’t really have a label either. But when you opened the perfume, it smelled divine. So you rolled it onto your neck and you felt like you smelled like a diva.
Which gave you a smile and as you counted the money on top of the dresser, putting each denomination of bills in it’s own stack- you just cried. You cried out of happiness and relief. Because this was more than enough to fill every cupboard in the house full of food. Good, nutritious food that you could use to make your children a home cooked meal. Instead of those cheap but filling microwavable dinners from a mini fridge in your previous motel room for the last six months.
“Well, thank you to whoever left this- you have no idea how badly my children and I needed this.” You said out loud. Then you noticed that there was a portrait on the wall opposite of your bed, where that same man was. Only he was a younger man, perhaps your age, wearing his uniform from the first world war, still very highly decorated. And he was smiling so..comfortingly at you. Like he could walk out of that painting and say-
‘Welcome home My Dear, I hope you love your new home.’ As you could almost picture and imagine his soft, warm voice saying the words. He was smiling at you as if you had been one of those romantic overseas brides of war. And you didn’t feel creeped out by it, instead you felt comforted by it as you felt that had you been alive during his time and had you met him and married him instead- and gotten to move into this house as his overseas bride of war- he never would have hurt you. He never would have hurt your children. He would have been a perfect gentleman. He would have cared for you and loved you with every fiber of his being. And while you would have been worried sick while he served in the second world war, if you had been married to him and had been here, maybe you would have had the chance to nurse him back to health and give him an hier and a spare so this house would have stayed in his family for generations, instead of being passed on to so many people who only ever saw this home and thought of the money they could make off of it. And not what this grand house was always meant to be- a home.
You immediately took the contents of your old wallet and put it into the new one. As you did so, you realized that it had expanders so that now you could fit all of the money inside of the wallet. Now it was stretched full as you put the larger bills in one fold of it and put the smaller bills into another fold, so they were easier to access. And that it was much more organized. Then you emptied out the contents of your purse into this one as well. Feeling like this was your new lucky charm. You looked at yourself wearing the purse the full length mirror in the room and smiled when you looked rather sophisticated. It was the nicest thing you owned, well, besides the house now.
“Come on kiddos, we’re going grocery shopping.” You announced happily as you were so happy and grateful to have the money to do so. You happily got back into your little car and filled it with gas again and drove to the good local grocery store that was across town from the motel. You had never shopped here before because it was always a bit too far to drive to but it was much closer to your new house.
“Oh Sweetie! Sweetie!” An older woman, who looked like she was old enough that she could be your mother, called to you as you as you got out of your car. You turned and looked at her curiously as she was just finishing up putting her groceries into her own- only a car away from you.
“Yes Ma’am?” You asked.
“I see you have little ones, do you use coupons?” She asked.
“Yes, when I get the chance to clip them.” You answered.
“Well Honey, this grocery store has a bunch of coupons that are gonna expire tomorrow but their sales go from Monday to Monday and tonight is the last night of the current sales in the store. They have a bunch of sales right now and if you use the sales with the coupons, you’ll buy the store out. But tomorrow of course everything that is on sale today, won’t be on sale tomorrow. And I just hate to see a good sale and good coupons go to waste, would you use them?” She asked as she held up a huge envelope that looked like it was about to burst with coupons as you were ready to burst into tears again.
“Yes, thank you so much.” You readily agreed, as you struggled not to cry as she walked halfway to you as you walked halfway to her to take the coupons from her. The huge envelope of coupons was bigger than your stack of bills you had found in the purse earlier.
“Oh Honey, you’re having a hard time aren’t you? I just knew you had to be the right person for these.” She cooed to you.
“You have no idea.” You admitted as you tried to wipe the tears from your eyes before they could stream any farther down your face as you just wanted to ball your eyes out and unload everything onto this woman like she was your real mother.
“Sweetie, don’t worry about it. It’s always a tough time with little ones. You take these and you put ‘em to good use now, you hear?” She encouraged you sweetly.
“Will do, thank you.” You thanked her before you gave each other a hug. Her hug was like hugging your mom again and was the comforting touch you had desperately needed for the last six months.
“I’m Marybelle by the way. What’s your name hun?” She asked.
“I’m Samantha, this is my daughter Elizabeth, she goes by Lizzy, and my son Edward, or Eddie for short, Lizzy is four and Eddie is two.” You told her as you pointed back to your kids in the car.
“Oh then you have some pull-ups to buy, which is good cause I have the coupons for them and they’re on sale too.” She grinned as she waved and smiled at your kids who were watching you curiously from their booster seats in the back seat of the car.
“Yes I do, thank you so much, you’re an angel, and my lifesaver today.” You offered to her.
“You’re welcome, Hun. Now get in, before anyone else beats you to it.” She urged you before you put the envelope of coupons into your purse got the cart from the cart return next to your car, that had the little car in the front of it to keep the kids contained and entertained while you shopped.
Then once they were loaded up, you purposefully pushed the cart into the little grocery store and quickly bought a multi folder organizer and one of each newspaper the store had and went to the little cafe in the grocery store and bought a box of fried chicken and some fried potato wedges for you and your little family and some drinks for lunch.
And while your kids ate, you quickly went through the coupons. You used the small notebook and the pen to make a very comprehensive grocery list as you used the little calculator on your phone to calculate what was on sale from the grocery’s stores flier and what coupons you had been given along with the other coupons you just got from the newspapers that the store hand as you used your little swiss army knife on your keychain to carefully cut each coupon out, since you didn’t have scissors on you and once you combined the sales and the coupons- how much each thing would cost once you reached the register as you realized your new little found fortune would stretch way farther than you had previously thought. You organized the coupons into the folder according to date and department they belonged to. As you realized, you had more than enough in your budget to get everything you needed and many things you wanted.
Once the kids had eaten their fill and you had your shopping list and your coupons organized, you were on a mission to do the most strategic grocery shopping you had ever done in your life. You made sure that everything you put in the cart was either on sale, or had a coupon or especially if they had both as you made sure to get the quantities specified. Before you knew it, the cart was full but you were only a third of the way done with your shopping as you went through the line and paid for what you got.
You used the sales and the coupons and got what you needed for what felt like mere pennies on the dollar. And for every dollar you spent- it felt like you saved $20, $50 or $100.
“So are you part of our rewards program?” The cashier- Megan asked.
“No, I just moved here actually, and this is my first time shopping here, so I’m not.” You answered.
“Oh, well it will only take a minute, do you want to sign up?” She asked hopefully.
“Yeah sure,” You answered.
“Your name?” She asked.
“It’s Samantha, Samantha Harrison.” You answered since that was your maiden name before you gave her your birthdate, your email address since you had changed the password to that before you left, so your ex couldn’t hack that somehow and your new phone number.
“And your address?” She asked.
“Oh it’s 765 Elmwood Boulivard,” you told her as she and everyone around you immediately froze and looked at you with wide surprised eyes as you could hear a pin drop among the line of cashiers and other customers.
“I…I’m sorry, did you say 765 Elmwood Boulivard?” She asked.
“Yes, the..”
“Big Victorian house at the end of the street.” She finished for you.
“Yes, I just bought it today.” You told her.
“Oh, uh, ok, uh, well congratulations.” Megan tried to say even though you could clearly see she was a bit shaken considering her face was now a bit paler than before.
“Are you ok?” You asked her.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, are you ok?” She pressed.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” You asked her.
“Oh, it’s just, the last few people who have tried to buy that house and tried to flip it…” She began.
“It ended up being a money pit and went bankrupt trying to improve it, yeah, the realtor told me.” You answered for her.
“Yeah,” She tried to nervously laugh off.
“Well I’m not out to do that, it’s pretty perfect just the way it is and I’m not looking to flip it, I’m just going to be living there.” You told her.
“Oh! Well, then I guess we’ll be seeing you a lot more then. And I guess a really good thing that you’re getting a rewards card.” She tried to play off as naturally as she could before she put the rewards membership into the system and gave you the card and the little keychain tag to put on your keyring as the membership ended up saving you even more as a bunch of new coupons instantly printed out with your receipt.
“Well, you guys drive safe and have a good day.” She tried to tell you as she looked at your kids with a mix of politeness yet pity in her eyes.
“Oh, we’re not done yet, we still have a bit more shopping to do, this is just the first round that could fit in the cart.” You informed her.
“Oh, well take as many trips as you need.” She told you with a forced polite smile before you took your cart full of now bagged groceries out to the car and put them into the back.
“Why didn’t you tell her that house was haunted?!” The other cashiers and customers got on Megan the moment you left the store.
“Why didn’t any of you?! Plus her kids are with her! I don’t want to freak them out and having that ghost haunt us all!” Megan defended.
“That poor woman, those poor kids.” The other patrons and cashiers said as they all made the cross over themselves and kissed their little cross pendants. Then Mallie Mason, the woman who owned the stone store and did psychic readings and tarot card readings occasionally walked in as the other women immediately shut up and pretended not to see her at all and tried to ignore her because she had been tasked with “cleansing” that house and obviously failed many times over as they were sure she was part of the reason that horrible ghost stayed in that house.
Then you came back in and Mallie immediately stood straight as a board as you came in and walked by her with your kids as she looked at you like she had seen or known you from somewhere before before something seemed to whisper in her ear and she grinned. Then she walked after you as the others looked worriedly at each other but they were too afraid to be any further involved as the patrons quickly practically bagged the rest of the groceries themselves just to get out of the store quicker before she casually bumped into you in one of the aisles.
“Oh, excuse me, sorry.” You both said to each other in unison.
“Hey, I haven’t really seen you around before, are you new here? Or just passing though?” She asked you.
“I’m new here, I just moved into “the money pit” apparently on Elmwood.” You answered with a bit of a bashful smile.
“Oh it’s not a money pit at all. It’s a beautiful and gorgeous home. And the people who have only ever looked at that house and seen money or seen it as a way to make more money have had that experience. But I get the feeling that’s not what you have in mind.” She ventured.
“No, it’s a beautiful home. I’m just grateful that it was in my budget and that I could move in quickly.” You answered.
“Sweetie, don’t be too alarmed, but I do psychic readings and my friend just told me that you really needed the shelter from a dark, destructive force in your past.” She prompted.
“Yeah, that’s right. My hopefully soon to be ex-husband, Casey. He was always narcissistic, but when he turned physical, I just had to get out. So I took my kids and only grabbed what I could and left and just drove, drove as far as I could.” You admitted, not sure why you were opening up so much to this woman who might as well have been a stranger to you but you felt like she was a close friend.
“And you drove home. Granted not the one you were imagining or expecting. But the one you were meant to have. It took you a bit to find it, didn’t it? But the time it took for you to find it- your home was getting ready to finally have you. You have nothing to worry about. You’re home and you’re safe and that house was always meant to be yours. And you and your family really are at home there. Now some people may say that the house is “haunted”- it’s not. I’ve been there many times because other people’s imaginations run wild and they think I can “cleanse it”. But it doesn’t need to be cleansed because it was never dirty to begin with. Once you get settled in, get your kids and yourself a dog or two if you ever feel like your ex will find you here. But for now, he’s still running in circles, or at least that’s what my friend has told me. You’re doing good by hiding in plain sight. Keep it up. That house has some really wonderful and very pleasant surprises in for you. Like that for instance.” She said as she gestured to your purse.
“Oh so this was for me?” You asked her.
“Of course, the first of many gifts. If anything unusual starts to happen and you get nervous that things don’t quite make sense or add up. Just wait, it’ll make sense in the end, I promise. And if you have any questions or concerns, here’s my card. Just call and I’ll help any way I can.” She reassured you as she handed you her business cards, one for the psychic reading and one for the stone business.
“It is really nice to finally meet you, Samantha.” She offered as she offered her hand for you to shake.
“Your friend tell you that?” You grinned as you shook her head.
“Yup. And that’s Lizzy and Eddie. And I’m Mallie. Mallie Mason.” She grinned as she pointed to your kids after she shook your hand and pointed to your kids before she gestured to herself.
“I’ll be seeing you around neighbor. I’m the blue house next door. And I own Better Boulder, it’s a rock, stone and gem shop in town.” She told you.
“Oh awesome, thank you.” You thanked her.
“I’ll see you around Sammy,” Mallie offered before she turned to walk away as you giggled since that was your preferred nick name.
“See you around Mallie, thanks for telling me about the house.” You offered to her before you continued to do your grocery shopping, now getting pet supplies as you grinned when you had gotten quite a few coupons for pet supplies in the paper and in the envelope. It was a sign, you were going to be getting pets.
You had to take three trips to use up all the coupons and get everything you and your little family needed and even wanted. And you even got to splurge on some really nice creature comforts, like good shampoo and conditioner and skincare that was actually on clearance. Actually you had practically cleaned out the clearance section of the store. And the produce at this grocery store was phenomenal and especially the overripe bananas in huge bags for 10 cents a bag that could make either trays or at least a few loaves of banana bread and the big bags of apples with one- bruised apple for 50 cents that you could either eat the way it was or make apple pies of turnovers or whatever you wanted.
You returned home and had to make several trips to bring in all the groceries and then spent most of the afternoon organizing what you got into the pantry in the new kitchen and the fridge and cupboards. And by the time you were done, you needed to start to make dinner before you found several recipe books as you flipped through them before you found a good recipe to make a very nutritious dinner for you and your family. All while your kids were content to play with their new toys in the living room in front of the fireplace and in front of the picture of the decorated army general.
After dinner, you put Eddie and Lizzy into a bath, using one of the “old” bathrooms, with a huge, clawfoot tub to do so. Then you put them to bed, both of them falling asleep really easily. Then you got a bath yourself, letting your tired body finally relax in the same tub. Washing your hair and body and face and using a face mask as you sat and listened to soft music while your hair soaked up a deep conditioning treatment. Once you were done, you happily got into bed and looked up at the painting.
“Thank you for sharing your childhood home with me. I promise to never try to make money off of it. It’s so much better than any home I’ve ever known.” You offered as you wanted to cry again.
“I haven’t had the best life. And with my little ones, I’ve simply always wanted the best for them, and this home is wonderful. I’m sorry so many people have come into this house, and only saw a way to make money or only saw flaws that needed to be fixed. But while I appreciate the modern conveniences, I also really love the period pieces. This house has a beautiful heart and soul and coming here feels like I’ve finally come home. It’s…it’s very romantic. I wish I could have met you General Maywhether. And I’m sorry you never got a chance to share this home with a wife and children of your own. Or at least, if you had any children that you knew about or may have fathered when you were fighting wars overseas. But I promise to love this home and treat it with the same love, care and respect it deserves. Goodnight.” You murmured sleepily to the picture before you settled into bed and turned off the bedside light and drifted off to sleep.
You woke up in a dream, you looked down and you were wearing a maid’s uniform, from like, World War 1. Not your usual maid uniform.
“Are you still dallying? Those soldiers are going to be here any minute and the room needs to be ready before then Sammy!” A head housekeeper got after you as she came into the room to see you still changing the linens of the bed in the room.
“Yes Ma’am, I’m almost done.” You answered her, your own thick English accent answered her as you got the bed finished and the room ready to receive it’s new occupant and just as you were leaving the room, the manager of the hotel was walking the man from the painting down the hallway, as he was trailed by his troop of men as pairs of men went to each room down the hall before they stopped at the room that you had just gotten done cleaning.
“And this is Mrs. Bess Andrews, she’s the head housekeeper. If you or your men need anything at all, Captain Maywhether, do not hesitate to say so.” He invited before Bess smiled charmingly as you watched from around the corner since she had shooed you away to get out of sight, but you curiously peeked out from around the corner.
Bess showed the Captain into his room, doing her best to greet the two dogs he had with him, they were shepherds from the looks fo them. One was named Pilot, and the other’s name was Captain. The dogs never left their master’s side and really didn’t need to be on leashes. Captain Maywhether seemed to catch you peeking at him and the dogs and once your eyes met you gasped softly and quickly hid yourself around the corner as your heart was racing. He was a very good looking young officer and his grin was disarmingly charming, for the few seconds he gave you one. Then he walked into the room and complimented Bess on keeping good staff who kept the room in good working order and in excellent condition and cleanliness and did so loudly enough from the open door that you could hear as you smiled happily at the compliment behind the corner.
“So who is the maid that keeps this room?” He asked Bess.
“Oh it changes every day.” She answered.
“How much would it cost for it to not change every day? I would like to see a familiar face and trust that my room and its contents are kept with the same person while my men and I stay here.” He urged her.
“Uh, well Mrs. Samantha Farrows was the one who was just in here cleaning, she should still be in the hall, I could introduce you to her. She’s a good maid and will see to it that all of your belongings are kept clean and safe.” She urged before she put her head out of the room.
“Mrs. Samantha Farrows, come here girl.” She called to you as you put the soiled linens into the laundry shoot and quickly smoothed down your uniform as you were sure your cheeks were beet red and your hair a mess from working on all the rooms on this side of the hallway.
“Yes Ma’am?” You answered as you reappeared and quickly walked down to the Captain’s room.
“This is Captain Maywhether. He wanted to meet you.” Bess introduced you to him.
“Captain Maywhether.” You greeted with a respectful curtsy as he nodded to you as you could see just a bit of disappointment that you were already married.
“This is Mrs. Samantha Farrows. She’s one of the best maids I have on staff.” Bess praised although she had never said anything like that about you before.
“Excellent, a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Farrows. Would you see to it- that Pilot and Captain are well cared for and walked when they are not with me?” He asked as the dogs in question eagerly came up to you and were wagging their tails like crazy and licking at your hands which made you smile.
“Yes of course Sir.” You eagerly agreed.
“It’s ok, you can pet them. Dogs are always an excellent judge of character and the fact that they like you, I can put my full faith and trust that my men and I are in your very capable hands.” He praised before you smiled even wider and pet his dogs affectionately as each one sat on either side of you and leaned into your skirts and looked up adoringly at you as you pet the soft fur of their heads.
“And could you see to it Mrs. Andrews- that Mrs. Farrows only cares for my room and the rooms of my men? I will need her sole focus.” He requested.
“Yes, Mrs. Farrows, under the Captain’s order, you are now the maid for the Captain’s rooms and the rooms of the men under his command which are all on this side of this hallway for the duration of their stay.” She said as she got the appropriate keys and handed them to you as you got your key ring out and put the keys to Captain Maywhether’s rooms and the rooms of all of his men onto your key ring.
“Mrs. Farrows works Monday through Saturday, if you will need anything on Sundays, just let me know Captain.” She urged him before she told him what the meal times were in the hotel’s dining room and other instructions for what to do with their soiled uniforms before the Captain’s bags were delivered to the room.
“Could I unpack your bag Sir?” You asked respectfully.
“Of course,” he nodded as you took the bag to the closet and began unpacking his uniforms, a few of them were clearly meant for the field, another was more formal and probably meant for special occasions and hanging them up in the closet so that the wrinkles could hopefully come out overnight as his personal items you went ahead and put those away in the dressers the way you had been trained to do. His more personal items and keepsakes you put in the top drawer of the dresser, including a small photograph of the man with his parents, all of their faces somber but proud as he was in uniform. While his father was also in his uniform from the American Civil War and his mother dressed exquisitely, sitting on the chair while her husband and what looked to be her son stood behind her.
“Well I’ll leave you to rest before dinner.” Mrs. Andrews excused herself.
“So, Mrs. Farrows, do you have any children?” He asked you curiously once the door was shut but he stayed standing where he was, so as not to get in your way.
“I do, I have a girl- Elizabeth, I call her Lillybet, and a son, Edward or Eddie. And my husband Charles, who’s the Majesty’s Army.” You answered him.
“Are your children in the country where it’s safer?” He asked thoughtfully.
“Yes, my family was originally from the country so when England was brought into this war, I left my children with my parents while I stay here and work while my husband fights.” You answered.
“And you sir? Do you have children back at home, safe in America?” You asked him, picking up on his clearly American Yankee accent.
“No, I’m not married or have any children. But I am the oldest son. I have a younger brother and a younger sister. My younger brother is only 12 and my sister is only 7.” He answered.
“Lillybet is only 4 and Eddie is only 2.” You informed him.
“Well hopefully we can kill those German Bastards Sir.” You offered to him which made him beam a happy smile at you and laugh in amusement.
“Do you have a special diet that you like to keep your dogs on or will they eat just about anything?” You asked him.
“They’re used to eating table scraps most of the time honestly.” He shrugged.
“If it’s not too forward of me Sir. My family the Harrisons, we’ve been breeding all manner of dogs Sir, for generartions. All working dogs though- hounds, shepherds, collies and terriers and spaniels. Just about every family in nobility has at least a few Harrison Hounds with them, either protecting their estates, or herding their flocks or hunting their game, whether it be birds, foxes, deer or boar. Your dogs are shepherds, they be a good all around dog Sir. Meant to keep you safe, keep you company but still do just about anything you tell ‘em to Sir. If you want a good long, healthy life out of your dogs, feed them well. But feeding a dog well while our men at the front can barely eat their rations seems to be a waste during a war.” You offered, hoping he wouldn’t take offense to your candor with him.
“On the contrary, these dogs are going to be pivotal for the war effort. I take it you know not just what and how to feed them, but train them too?” He asked hopefully as his grin almost grew hopefully and just a touch scheming.
“Oh aye. What do you want the dogs to do?” You asked him.
“Deliver messages, to the front lines as quick as they can and then come back again with reports from the front lines and intercept other dogs of war form the other side and take their messages from them.” He answered.
“Then you’ll need to hire me as more than just your maid Sir.” You ventured.
“Then I’ll happily hire you as a dog trainer too. How much is your rate?” He asked as you smiled.
“How much can you afford?” You asked.
“This much.” He said as he pulled out his wallet and handed you a wad of money that was more than what you had been making as a maid ever since you started working here since England went into this war.
“Just enough.” You grinned.
“Keep it for now, but after my shift today, we’ll go to the market and I’ll show you what your dogs will be eating. Because trust me, if you saw what goes into those cans of dog food, you’d never stomach the sight of another can in your life.” You urged him.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have your men to start to look after.” You excused yourself before you left the room, feeling his eyes linger on you as you left just as you woke up again, slowly sitting up and readjusting to the present and your time again as you looked around the room and then back at the picture.
“Captain.” You giggled sleepily at the picture on the wall. Your imagination had really gone wild, imagining you were a maid at a Hotel in England, and your family bred working dogs and your children were at their grandparent’s house in the country. Such a bizarre dream, yet, it had felt just as real in the dream as this did right now. As if, you had actually stepped back in time the moment you had fallen asleep.
You looked at your phone and gasped as you realized, you had overslept. Not by a lot but by enough that you needed to quickly get dressed and get your kids dressed and fed and dropped off at the daycare so you could get to work on time.
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Jezebel | Solo de la Vega
This exists because @lucigucci asked for it and I couldn't say no. Sorry it took me so long! It's basically a background/personality/daily life montage for Sascha's brother, Solo. I was trying to figure out how to work some of his experiences into Sascha's story, so this is exactly what he needed!
This fic pairs well with Sascha's "Don't Call Me Daughter" miniseries!
Music: "Jezebel" by Sade
cw: there is some nested lemony content 🍋 (some choking), emotional abuse, just very bad parenting in general
~ 2.6k words
***
~ Twenty-six years ago ~
Solo and Sascha hid. They were close enough to hear the screams and the dishes shattering.
“Get out of my house!”
“I want to see my children. Please–”
“I said, GET OUT!”
And on and on it went.
Shortly after Honore stopped making his infrequent trips to Casa Vega, the Vega twins learned to never ask about him. Instead, they protected the few mementos they had of Honore and remembered him quietly, out from under the eyes of their mother…
***
~ Present Day ~
“Nanang, why would I make any of this up?”
Solo had no more fire left in him to spat with Floribeth. He just wanted to close his eyes and become unconscious to the pain settling into his bones. But his mother wouldn’t leave. Despite her petite frame, she haunted the foot of his bed like an overfed wraith.
“You were in bed all day yesterday, Solomon. How is it that you had enough energy to traipse the town with your sister this morning, but you couldn’t even pull your weight in this negotiation? Do you plan to leave April without any assistance this afternoon as well?”
Solo’s eyes smarted as he rolled onto his side and tried to hide his head under the blankets.
“You were there. You saw how that man didn’t touch any of the swatches I brought. My charms were in those swatches.”
Beth’s response came out clipped and dismissive. “So what?”
Great, Solo groaned internally, today she wants to play dumb about how my magic works.
Solo had tried to explain this to Beth before. Why couldn’t her sharp mind sense his meaning? Why did she have to make every conversation about his magic so taboo?
“Nanang, please understand…it is… easier for me when the clients touch–”
But she cut him off. “Solo, stop. You’re whining about your condition again. For all of your devotion to our practice, you forget sometimes how spoiled you’ve become. I blame myself for that. Get your rest. I’ll fetch Sascha. But you’re to be present for April by this afternoon. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Part of him wished he hadn’t agreed, but it was the only way to get her to leave. When she finally did, Solo wanted nothing more than to blackout and let his body recover the old fashioned way until Sascha administered some relief for his pain. But all he could think about was Floribeth and how guilty she had made him feel over the years.
Even though he had nothing but devote his entire body and heart to her business.
Whenever Beth became upset or disappointed with him like this, it took him back to listening to her and Honore argue. For some reason, Solo couldn’t shake off the feeling that Beth had wanted those fights to escalate between herself and the father of her children.
“Beth. Look at what you’ve done to him. By the gods, look at his hands! Every time I come back, they’re swollen or bleeding. This isn’t right.”
“Stop being melodramatic, Honore. Solomon picked up sewing faster than Sascha and all of his cousins combined. We don’t let talent go unhoned in this family.”
"He is just a child!"
"He will heal! His hands will form calluses in time and then he won’t be able to feel it anymore. The pain is only temporary. You really are an idiot."
"Let me at least take Sascha with me. You’re always complaining about her. She’ll be cared for. Happy for once–"
"You’re not taking her anywhere. Now go away."
When Solo opened his eyes again, Sascha was at his side.
***
Later that week...
Solo was where he was the most comfortable – in his dressing room, sewing a project by hand. He was alone until someone walked in. Solo recognized the newcomer almost immediately. Basil Jebel-something or other. He was an usher for a friend from what sounded like a collegiate past. Today Basil was there for alteration, without the entourage of the rest of the groom’s party.
“You came alone this time, Mister…”
“Jebeles.” His delivery was tired, but not unkind.
Solo, who was stretched out on his divan, looked up briefly from his work. “Yes, now I remember. We didn’t have your size. And we still don't, unfortunately.”
Basil made a face as he slapped his gut. “Figures.” Then he mumbled something blunt and self-deprecating.
By now, Solo was rising to his feet and warming his pearls over his knuckles.
“Please. You have a nice figure, Mr. Jebeles.” He came around behind the man, who smelled a lot like the inside of a tavern, and eyeballed his measurements with the help of his long string of pearls.
“And not all is lost. We may not have your size, but that’s why I wanted you to come back. For a closer look at what we’re working with–” Solo let his pearls slide down Basil’s frame before pulling them a little taut under his abdomen. Then he whispered, “We can easily correct the garment for the occasion.”
Not long after Solo finished up and memorized all of Basil’s measurements, he checked to see how the client was responding to his charms.
By the way Basil had dropped his dry humor and focused more on the path Solo’s hands took, the seamstress would have to say that he was responding very well.
Better than he expected in fact.
So well that Basil stayed afterward. They talked. Solo had one of the attendants bring them something to drink. Basil, it turned out, was quite easy to keep talking to and getting to know.
Very soon Basil’s back was against the floral wallpaper, his hands above his head, grasping weakly at nothing. His wrists strained against a makeshift binding out of Solo’s seemingly endless yards of freshwater pearls.
“Solo.” The barhand breathed. His head only grew dizzier against the dressmaker’s slow, lingering touches. Solo’s lips found his again with a rough tenderness. His hands roamed, dragging his pearls with him under Basil’s tunic, past his fly. The barhand turned hard in Solo’s grasp.
“Solo — ngh.”
There were no words to describe the seamstress’ calloused, dimpled touch.
“Mr. Jebeles, please relax,” Solo said, sneaking his tongue along the seam of Basil’s mouth. “Excitement breeds excitement. Keep squirming and calling on me and I’ll soil my nice linens for sure.”
“Gods. Slow down then! Perhaps we could both last longer if you unwrap those fucking pearls from around my cock—“
The bindings drifted up around his neck. “Oh? You mean these pearls? Shall we do something else with them?”
Basil locked onto the uneven, iridescent orbs. “Do you take those with you everywhere?”
Solo’s smirk was as soft as his question. “What do you wish to know?”
Basil suddenly felt very stupid for trying to initiate a conversation right then. He wished he could take it back and just quietly let the seamstress take him apart.
Solo’s smirk deepened as he read the meaning in Basil’s hesitation.
“Fine. We don’t need to go into any details until afterwards. Just try not to choke while I’m sucking you off. Simple enough?” Solo dropped to his knees without waiting for an answer, pulling his pearls taut around the client’s neck on his descent.
It wasn’t that strange for Floribeth, head of Vega Bridal, to be passing by Solo’s dressing room as he escorted his latest client out. It was, however, not like her to pause and study the poorly concealed familiarity between her son and the client who smelled like cheap booze and was clean shaven all but for those ungodly sideburns.
Solo saw the man out and joined his mother for a debriefing while they traveled to the main house. She noticed how easily he kept up with her and the slight bounce in his step as he walked.
Solo. Sascha.
Her children always needed reminding of what was what. When and how. That life didn’t give them joy without a little sacrifice. That no goodness came without consequence.
Floribeth knew that it was her duty to consistently remind them.
“Solo, honey,” the matriarch began, depriving her voice of as much edge as she could bear, “you know I don’t care one way or the other of the company you keep in your space. In fact, I encourage it. It’s good for business.”
Solo managed a tight smile. “So you’ve told me in the past, nanay.”
Beth chose to ignore how Solo reverted to the more formal way to address her. The way Sascha always did unless she was throwing a tantrum.
“Well, listen closely to me because I’ve never told you what I’m about to tell you now.”
She felt better once the spirit left Solo’s gait. She finally had his attention.
Eyes forward and heels clacking briskly against the sandy tiles, Floribeth began, “You know I don’t expect you to dedicate any energy to finding a suitable partner or more to marry. Unless that’s what you want. But since you’re at that age, I’ll just say a few things.”
Solo honestly had no idea where this was going. It was true that Floribeth was very diligent about avoiding the topic of a potential marriage in Solo’s future. Thanks to his condition and the value of his magic to the business, he had been excused from much of the pressure that came down on young de la Vegas to grow and expand the family as quickly as possible.
Floribeth carried on. “Your father would have never so much as caught my eye if it hadn’t been for those damnable charms. Their existence made me question everything we had…”
Solo did not expect to hear the slip, if ever so slight, of sadness in his mother’s tone. She was quick to recover from it.
“So one can assume that even with all of your charisma, in the end, it could never yield a proper marriage. Perhaps you could get someone to love you, but it wouldn’t be true love, Solo. And it wouldn’t be fair to the other person. You can never forget that. Eventually your charms will wear off and they will suffer in some way or another. You’re smart, Solomon. I’m sure you’ve figured all this out by now.”
Solo’s lip quivered.
“Yes, nanang.”
He managed to keep his voice from shaking.
“That makes a lot of sense now that you point it out. Thank you.”
He didn’t know how much longer he could keep it up.
***
Solo felt stupid and selfish for running to Sascha’s room and collapsing onto her lap. In seconds, he was sobbing, his make-up running, his outbursts incoherent and shrill.
“That’s basically what she told me, Sascha!”
Solo was beside himself. He couldn’t believe the state of anger he had allowed Floribeth to work him into.
“I’m incapable of being loved in any natural way? Because of…” He lifted his pearls up over his head and shook them in his fist. “Because of these?”
Then the seamstress made a wretched sound as he hurled the ancestral pearls at the wall.
“Well I didn’t ask for them! I just do what she wants of me all the time, but sure, Sasch – no one can love me!”
Solo could feel Sascha trying to call her magic to the surface and soothe him with it. But that wouldn’t do any good. This was a different kind of pain.
“Solo, shhh. It’s okay. It’s not true. You know it isn’t true.”
Solo barely heard her. He sobbed until he couldn’t anymore.
Later, when Solo had gotten it all out of his system and he was leaning against Sascha while she played in his hair, he whispered, “Sasch. Can I tell you something?”
He had opened the question in broken Esmeraldi. Sascha answered in the same way, signaling that whatever he said would be kept safe and just between them.
“My charms have always behaved in strange ways, yet I’m the only one who’s ever understood them. I can’t explain it, but Sascha, I know what I know. They only work to flex people’s attitude about the material world. People are people – they internalize those feelings and sometimes what they feel has the potential to carry them beyond the object. Still, whatever feeling they project out into the world came from a foundation of something inanimate. It’s all in the dress, the garment, the pearls, whatever they’re wearing or touching.” He paused to take a breath. “What I’m trying to say is, it’s impossible to generate a charm through my own... self.”
Sascha remained silent, but Solo could feel her thinking.
The seamstress added, “It makes me think about tatang–uh. I mean Honore.”
“So,” Sascha said finally, “all those times Beth claimed our father tricked her into feeling things for him that were never there... you’re saying that she was full of it?”
Solo frowned. “I don’t think she lied on purpose, but I could see her needing something to justify her own decisions to herself. The charms are an easy thing to blame.”
Sascha helped her brother off of her and into an upright position so she could look him in the eye.
“Solo, if you were to ever tell nanay this, she would just deny it.”
His gaze drifted elsewhere. “…. I know.”
Sascha gave his shoulders a gentle shake. “I don’t say that to be harsh, Solo.”
Solo reached up to pry her hands from her shoulders and cradled them between his own scarred palms.
“Not at all, Sasch. I’m... relieved that I came to this realization. It means that no matter what nanang says about me, I know it can never be true.” He paused. “I don’t get to talk through these sorts of things very often. But it’s the only way I’m able to make sense of all of it… everything that you and I have been through.”
Sascha smiled, which gave Solo hope more than anything else. “If you ever need to talk again, I’m here.”
She got off her bed and made her way across the room. She came back with Solo’s pearls and placed them around his neck.
“I needed to hear that,” Solo whispered, his voice full of emotion. “Thank you.”
Sascha glanced down and noticed that Solo hadn’t gone to reassure himself by touching the pearls.
She said, “You know, something that I’ve noticed over the years is this. Whenever our family comes to visit from Esmeralda or even as far as Catclaw, they like to dump their old, creepy heirlooms on us.”
Sascha looked up at her brother and pushed aside the bang that always managed to cascade over the left side of his face.
“Cousins and great aunts and uncles whose names we never knew and probably won’t ever remember walk through here with artifacts that look like they should belong in a museum. And who do they bring them to? Not Beth. It’s never Beth. They bring them to you.”
Before Solo knew it, his scarred fingers were walking along the lace in his dress, seeking out the ancient voices, beaded and condensed in layers against his torso.
“You know the placement of each pearl by heart and the ancestor it belonged to. Our family members come to you to feel reassured, Solo. They leave our past with you because they know it’s safe in your hands. Clients come to you to feel beautiful and cherished. So the next time Floribeth tries to make you feel low...”
Sascha brushed a tear that had escaped Solo’s dark eyes.
“I want you to remember whose face comes to mind when people think of Vega Bridal… and who it is our ancestors have always looked to.”
#the arcana#solo de la vega#solo the seamstress#sascha de la vega#sascha the gunslinger#floribeth de la vega#stefan honore#basil jebeles#my writing#lemony
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(Chrismas cc) maybe cc reaction to y/n wanting to bake Christmas cookies with them and host a big Christmas sleepover/party with them
The snow was softly falling outside, covering everything under a thin layer of ice crystals. It was December now, the much beloved month of Christmas. Even the infamous cooking club from Bulsajo High has gotten into the holiday spirit.
The snow crunched under their feet, as the seven boys wander along the streets, on their way to their darlings house. All were wrapped in warm jackets and scarves, yet some were still shuttering when a cold gust of wind blazed along the streets. With red noses they finally reached Y/ns house. They ring the doorbell, impatiently awaiting Y/ns to open their door and grace them with just a fraction of their warmth. Seven heads snapped up at the sound of the doorknob being turned, revealing Y/n in all their glory.
An alluring cinnamon and gingerbread scent filled the rooms, as the eight teenagers scurried around the kitchen. On the counter rested a finnished gingerbread house, white sugar paste dripping down the sides while gummy bears and smarties rested, liked glued, upon it. The oven was currently occupied by a batch of cinnamon cookies, with another two batches of chocolate chip and lemony vanilla awaiting their turn. An already finished batch of purely chocolate flavoured goods, was seated next to the gingerbread house. They currently were being decorated with melted chocolate, sprinkles and sugar paste, by Jimin and Taehyung. Hoseok pulled out the finnished cinnamon cookies, walking around the counter to set it down.
"Y/n, what do you think about these?" The pink haired boy waved his schoolmate over, wanting to see them gawk at his hard work. "They're both lovely, Jimin." They laughed, "Just like the last ten were as well." Next to Jimin, Taehyung admired their beautiful harmonious laugh. Said laugh also caught the attention of the six other men in the kitchen, they listened and smiled along as if it were the sweetest symphony in existence.
"Love, try this please, will you?" Hoseok requested Y/ns assistance in taste testing the batter for the cake they were making. An excited hum of agree was heard, as they tasted the sweet mix. Once again, all attention layed on them. Their approval was required for all they do, nothing could ever just be seen as passible by them, it had to be perfect.
It was dark out, the only light illuminating the streets belonged to the dull streetlights and the light filled room of Y/ns house. All members sat there, wrapped in blankets, while watching Christmas movies. They had started the night off with classics, such as the Grinch or Rudolph the red nosed reindeer. By now they had moved on to Hallmark Christmas movies, practically dripping in clichés and unrealistic expectations of relationships. While Yoongi scrunched his nose in disgust or Seokjin yawned at the bad chemistry attempts, Hoseok stared fascinated at the screen while Jimin and Taehyung layed in each others arms crying over an especially sappy sequence. Dyring the fifth movie they had watched, Y/n started dozing of on Namjoons shoulder with Jeongguk already softly snoring in their lap. Not long after, every member was captured by the land if dreams, resting under blankets and pillows, with the cookies still placed neatly on the table besides them.
That night, the boys dreamed the same thing; experiencing those romantic comedies themselves eith their love as the lead. Oh, what they wouldn't give to be wrapped up in an office romance with their dear Y/n..
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Fanfic Rec
Hey! I wanna rec some fanfics that I've read here! They are of several different fandoms, but I will organize everything, don't worry. All the fics that I will post here arr available on AO3, and all of them are written in English.
Fandoms:
Heroes of Olympus / Percy Jackson;
Harry Potter;
Voltron: Legendary Defender;
Series Unfortunate Events;
Gravity Falls;
Batman;
The Thundermans.
Relationships:
- Heroes of Oympus / Percy Jackson:
Jasico (Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace);
Jercy (Percy Jackson/Jason Grace).
Harry Potter:
Drarry (Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter)
- Voltron: Legendary Defender:
Klance (Keith/Lance).
- Series Unfortunate Events:
Duncan Quagmire/Klaus Baudelaire;
Violet Baudelaire/Quigley Quagmire;
Beatrice Baudelaire/Bertrand Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket.
Gravity Falls:
Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines;
Mabel Pines & Stan Pines;
Dipper Pines & Ford Pines;
Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines;
Fiddleford H. McGucket & Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines;
Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines;
Ford Pines & Stan Pines;
Dipper Pines & Stan Pines;
Ford Pines & Mabel Pines.
Batman:
Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne;
Tim Drake & Damian Wayne;
Tim Drake & Jason Todd;
Jason Todd & Damian Wayne;
Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd;
Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne;
Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne;
Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne;
Damian Wayne & Bruce Wayne;
Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne.
The Thundermans:
Max Thunderman & Phoebe Thunderman;
Dr. Colosso & Max Thunderman;
Allison/Max Thunderman;
Max Thunderman & Hank Thunderman;
Thunderman Family.
PS:You won't find any Top!Lance or Top!Harry
Heroes of Olympus / Percy Jackson
Jasico:
North:
Nico falls into Tartarus. Jason follows shortly thereafter.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13019724/chapters/29776236
Countdown:
When Nico di Angelo was ten years old he met Percy Jackson, but his watch didn’t stop. He was vaguely disappointed.
Soulmate timers AU
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119869/chapters/2256441
Even the Strongest Will Break:
Top!Nico/Bottom!Jason (I put this just to warn those who don't like it, but that is NOT the central theme of the story, it only happens once, in the last or penultimate chapter. The central theme of this story is Jason's traumatic situations.)
It had been happening a lot. Ever since they had gotten back from a recent run in with Deimos, the spirit of fear, dread, and terror. He had messed with Jason’s mind, went deep inside of him and pulled out his inner most fears. He had brought Jason Grace to knees in fear and probably would have broken him, if Annabeth hadn’t slammed an old greek vase down on the spirit’s head. He was grateful for Annabeth, but ever since that incident, there was always this feeling of fear at the back of his neck. And, he wet the bed.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12131247/chapters/27517335
Communication: Alternative Universe - No Powers
Mute!Jason Grace
Nico works in a coffee shop and Jason is having trouble making himself understood.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/2142762
Let Us Go Then, You and I: (Alternative Universe - College/University)
Jason notices a strange boy in the library.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1501262/chapters/3171011
To find where I belong:
“It’s Nico,” Thalia said. Jason almost thought he’d heard wrong. Nobody had seen Nico di Angelo since the war ended, and Jason still regretted that he hadn’t been able to stop him from leaving. Nico had told him about his plans to disappear, but Jason hadn't thought he'd really do it. Now he knew better.
“You found him?” Jason breathed.
“It’s a long story,” Thalia said. “But he’s been badly wounded. Think you could come pick him up?”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1162705
The Emotion and the Response:
After the war ends, Nico disappears, and Jason isn't going to sit idly by while his friend hides away among the dead. He'll get him to come back, even if it means going down into the Underworld and dragging Nico out of there himself.
Part 1 of Not with a bang
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1086949/chapters/2186767
The Motion and the Act:
Nico and Jason finally tell the others about their relationship.
Part 2 of Not with a bang
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1138673
(it was always you):
Both overlooked, both struggling to fit in where they didn't belong, Nico and Jason became fast friends when Jason was sent to Westover Hall to bring Nico and his sister to camp. Jason was Nico's hero, his best friend, everything he wanted to be.
And then Jason disappeared.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13371255/chapters/30620913
Consort:
Smut, Top!Nico/Bottom!Jason
"You knelt for me earlier, Jason Grace. Am I wrong to think you might do it again?"
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22643527
Exposition:
"He can think of dozens of ways for them to begin, that's all."
Jason, and how Nico could be the one for him.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22964572
Our Dictionary:
epitome,n.
I can’t think of one word that can fully mean what we have. It’s far from perfect, but it’s too good to be imperfect. It’s not always happy, but it’s not always sad either. We are together, but not quite as one. We do have each other, but we’re still separate beings just keeping each other company.
I suppose I have to concede that whatever this is, has to be love. Platonic, romantic, ours. The precious resin seeping through our cracks, holding us together, keeping us bound.
(A non-chronological series of flash fiction.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014838/chapters/52535770
First Step After the Fall:
As a general rule, Jason tried not to expect anything from Nico. He didn’t expect Nico to reply to every one of his postcards, or for Nico to want to be his friend. He certainly never expected to arrive at his dorm room late one afternoon after tennis practice to find Nico passed out in his bed.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21028073
Survivor's Guilt:
Nico has unbearable nightmares. The panic attacks come in waves, his sense on his self slipping like water through fingers. When Chiron insists that the seven of the prophecy live in an apartment complex, Jason insists that Nico live with him, since he's the only one who can see how Nico is ripping apart at his seams. Nico can barely keep the horrors of Tartarus contained, and tells his stories of what happened in Tartarus. Surviving it was hard enough, but reliving it may prove to destroy him once and for all.
Written pre Blood of Olympus.
(This fanfiction is a bit complicated, so I decided to explain:
Jason and Nico are best friends, and they live together in an apartment that is in the same building as the rest of the 7 also live. The beginning of the story is basically Jason helping Nico with nightmares, panic attacks, among other things. But there comes a time when Nico tells Jason what happened in Tartarus, and a horrible creature comes back to haunt them. The thing is, Nico doesn't like Jason romantically, because he still loves Percy, this story revolves around Nico's love for Percy, but it's one-sided, because Percy dates Annabeth, but a creature comes back to attack them discreetly, and mess with it. This story is not really about Jasico, there are only a few things at the end. This story is basically about one-sided love, among other things, especially this creature.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133440/chapters/2290931
Homecoming:
But he did know what his normal dreams felt like, knew his nightmares even better, and knew his flashbacks like the back of his hand.
By 2019, the crew of the Argo II have drifted apart. An earthquake, a message from a god, and Nico di Angelo bring them back together to face the apocalypse one more time.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20545019/chapters/48767933
Jercy:
Jason Grace Doesn't bottom:
“You think the gods are meddling again?”Percy asked.
“Isn’t that what they do best?”He replied.
(Trust me, this fanfiction is one of the best Jercy I've ever read! It's wonderful! Take a look! It includes, to my great delight, unsafe Jason, and past child abuse in Jason.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22340215
Wait for Me: Hadestown/Orpheus & Eurydice AU
(This fanfiction takes place in the original Percy Jackson universe, if you are in doubt.)
Percy Jackson might sometimes be impulsive and reckless, but he knew the gods. He had walked among them, had been asked to join them.
So he knew how to get him back.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884169
Head.Cars.Bending:
Dom!Percy/Sub!Jason
“Percy. Please. I’m driving.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/16422161
When It Rains, It Pours:
Tempest finally delivered Jason's message for Percy.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040409
Stay the night. Please.
Drabble prompt: 'Stay the night. Please.'
https://archiveofourown.org/works/8488180
The Last Summer:
It's been two years since Gaea was defeated, and a new age has arrived for the Greek and Roman worlds.
Jason finally has time to relax. He's spent the better part of those two years building an alliance between the two camp, and now his work is done. He isn't quite sure what's next, but he has plenty of time to worry about it. Summer is here, and what better way to celebrate his efforts than a stay at Camp Half Blood?
Percy is drowning. Unable to see a future for himself in the new age, he returns to Camp Half Blood feeling stuck in the past. Jason catches him at the exact wrong moment, and won't let Percy go without having a talk. What starts out as a simple conversation soon escalates into the friendship that both of them desperately need in this time of uncertainty.
The gods have gone silent, the monsters have disappeared. When a new force reveals itself and threatens the lives of everyone they hold dear, Percy and Jason must find it within themselves to help save the world one last time.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22828987/chapters/54559852
Harry Potter
Drarry:
Facts, Convenience, and Falling in Love: (No smut)
Alpha!Draco Malfoy/Omega!Harry Potter
While most of the wizarding world is under the impression that Harry Potter is an alpha, he knows it's only a matter of time before he gets outed as an omega. As insurance against the backlash he'll no doubt face when his secondary gender is discovered by the general public, Harry ends up attending an event designed to help people find mates. Who he ends up matching with might be a bit of a surprise though.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/23189614
An Unplanned Gift: (No smut)
Mpreg, Top!Draco Malfoy/Bottom!Harry Potter
"We’ve used spells every time, haven’t we? Except… when we were drunk last pub night,” Draco replies, eyes widening. “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry, I know this was all supposed to be in good fun.”
Harry shakes his head. “It’s fine. Er, what do you think?”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574134
Good to Me (And I'd Be So Good to You):
Tall Draco Malfoy
Everyone returns to Hogwarts after the war, but nothing is quite the same. Harry's groupies are creepier than ever, Ron and Hermione are snogging all over the place, and the once-proud Draco is shuffling around like a kicked puppy. But that's okay: Harry's got a plan.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1385362
Such a Softer Sin: Alternative Universe - Soulmates, Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence
Angst with a Happy Ending
After Draco meets Harry Potter, he's left with two tattoos, one on each wrist. One for a soul mate, one for his enemy. He's never known any one else who has the same name on both wrists.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/6058141
Completely Screwed (In the Clean Way): Alternative Universe - Soulmates
On the night of his 17th birthday, Harry Potter receives two names, one on each wrist. One name is his worst enemy's, the other is his soulmate's. The difficult part of this is usually figuring out which is which, but when Harry's names are the same, Harry has no idea what to do. Oh, and there's the whole Voldemort thing.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/9902510
Third Time's The Charm: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence
Slytherin Harry Potter, Abusive Dursley Family
Dolores Umbridge wasn't the only decision the Ministry made in an attempt to control the narrative after Harry Potter claimed that Voldemort came back from the dead at the end of the school year in 1994. Deciding it was too dangerous to leave Harry in Gryffindor, the House of the Brave, the Ministry decides to pass legislature mandating that students face the Sorting Hat again at the start of their 4th year. Officially, it's under the reasoning that as students grow and develop, they may find themselves better suited to another House and the Ministry is really big on Students Continuing To Develop Healthily And Normally. Unofficially, it's an attempt to remove Harry from any friends who might have believed him about Voldemort. And so, in Harry's 5th year, he's resorted as a Slytherin- the House full of children of Death Eaters just as Wizarding Britain is on the brink of another war.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21109571/chapters/50230406
Lost:
Abused Harry Potter, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Slytherin AU
Harry Potter was perfect, right? He was the Golden Boy, the boy who lived, the Chosen One, his life had to be perfect. Well, that’s what everyone at Hogwarts thought, anyway.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20661836/chapters/49067783
Love is Deaf: Post - Canon
Fluff, Deaf Harry Potter
A fic wherein Harry comes back for eighth year deaf. The only people who still talk to him are Hermione and Ron cause everyone else finds it so awkward. Draco watches from afar as Harry writes down all he wants to say, gestures wildly and eventually starts giving up on communicating altogether.
One day as they pass each other in the hallway Draco suddenly grabs Harry’s hand, places something in it and then scurries off. Harry looks down and opens a piece of paper that reads ‘meet me in the kitchens for breakfast tomorrow’. Harry has no idea his world is about to change forever.
So basically one of the many things Draco had to learn as a child was sign language and he decides to do something crazy and teach Harry.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243431/chapters/30293283
What if I had?
Hogwarts Eighth Year, Smut Later (But I don`t know if is Bottom! Harry or not)
Draco knew Azkaban was not an option, not for his crimes.
No, Draco knew that when he came out with the dark mark-his choice or not-he knew he had his fate decided.
What happens when Draco gets help from someone unexpected, unexpected and unwanted, but welcome.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20670938/chapters/49091162
Mood Ring:
Mpreg, Top!Draco Malfoy/Bottom!Harry Potter
“We should probably see a healer.” Draco announced, rubbing Harry’s back. He had been feeling sick the last few weeks. Constant nausea and loss of appetite.
“We don’t need to see a healer.” Harry groaned, “It’s probably a cold or something.”
“Harry. You said it was like you were pregnant again.” Draco argued, “We need to take you to a healer.”
“It’s not possible. You know it’s not possible.” Harry stated stubbornly, “I haven’t been taking any fertility potions or anything. I can’t magically get pregnant without the help of magic.”
https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895914
A Mother's Son:
Smut, Top!Draco Malfoy/Bottom!Harry Potter Rape / Non - Con
All Harry wanted to do was return Draco's wand. Unfortunately no one thought to warn him that he was a Veela, even though everyone knew about Lily.
(The warning of Rape/Non-con is more specifically because it can be dub con, but there is no actual "force")
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1438927
Don't Fight (What You Can't Deny):
Harry's life changes when he comes across a book that no one else can seem to read. Except for Malfoy, of course.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/3603681/chapters/7950867
(Love) Is All You Need:
Draco Malfoy has a chance to start over after being invited back for Eighth year. Althiugh he had doubts of re joining something he helped to destroy, he finds himself wanting to go back.
As much as he doesn't want to be involved in any drama and carry on by himself, it's not something that will go as smoothly.
Especially considering that he is a Veela and his true mate is none other than Harry Potter himself.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22080460/chapters/52695160
Starting Over (Temporary Title):
Past Abuse, Creature fanfic
The war is finally over and things have changed. Or at least, people think things have changed. Harry Potter, however, sees the Wizarding World as the same but with one less murderous wizard to worry about.
During Lucius Malfoy's trial, Harry must make a decision that will change his and the Malfoy's lives. A decision that may lead to uncovered mysteries from Harry's past loved ones.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/7091590/chapters/16117288
At the Crossroads There We’ll Meet:
Time Travel
Potter keeps dying; Draco keeps saving him.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/2039154
Beholden To:
Rape / Non - Con
It's only months after the war and Draco can't handle it any longer. Stupid Potter, and his stupid attitude and his stupid having to die almost killed him. That's what happens when you're a Veela mated to the reckless golden boy.
Just a Matter of Time:
Top!Draco Malfoy/Bottom! Harry Potter
Draco's in a bit of a rut. He's nearing forty, divorced, and he still can't figure out how to make his Time Turner reconstruction work. He's bored, he can admit it, so he's not nearly as concerned as he should be when his pet project malfunctions and sends him twenty years into the past. That is, until he ends up relying on a nineteen-year-old Harry Potter for help and starts developing some very inconvenient—and possibly reciprocated—feelings.
(I have to confess that this is not my favorite Drarry fanifction. It's about time travel, and Draco is forty, and he goes back to the past. Harry is nineteen years old in the past. I don't like older people staying with younger people, even for a short period of time, as it is in this fanifction, so I put it here just in case someone likes it, because the story itself is good, Draco is just too old for Harry.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20680190
How to get what you want (even if you don't know what it is):
Smut, Top!Draco Malfoy/Bottom!Harry Potter, Mpreg
"Let me get this clear, shall we? You want me to bugger you in the arse, so you can get pregnant with my superior semen?"
Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his face with both hands. "I knew this was a stupid idea. The most stupid of all stupid ideas."
But Harry wanted a different life, a family, a child, and when his Healer told him it was possible for him to carry a child himself, being a wizard, the thought kind of stuck. Even if he wasn't compleatly truthful about his motives. Not to Malfoy and certainly not to himself.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/19950838/chapters/47241751
Voltron: Legendary Defender
Klance:
Together (That's How We Belong): (No smut)
Alpha!Keith/Omega!Lance
Keith’s abrupt return takes Lance completely by surprise, as do the unanticipated, yet very noticeable changes in the alpha’s appearance. Yet while the omega is secretly overjoyed to finally see the alpha again, when Keith is within his reach, Lance’s nerves get the best of him, and an accidental blunder will forever change the course of their lives.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17204288
In This Reality:
“You may be a goofy guy from Earth, but if there’s anyone who can support Allura during this it’s you,” Keith finally says softly, turning from the sunset to look at him. It makes Lance’s heart race and he swallows drily, hoping the blush that creeping on his face isn’t visible under Kosmo’s fur. “The annoying, stupid, Earth version of you.”
While Honerva destroys realities, Lance finds himself going back in time to do things differently and is enlisted in helping an unlikely friend save the universe.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/18092651/chapters/42767819
Toward the Future:
Keith wasn’t stupid. He saw the way Lance looked at Allura. With a softness in his eyes, one Keith had only ever seen there once. He saw Allura wish Lance good luck and he saw their twin blushes and maybe Lance had been breaking his heart every few minutes since he came back to the team.
(Rewritten from the S8 with Klance.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17072585/chapters/40145954
Fragmented:
In a world of soulmates, Lance drew the short straw. Forever marked inferior to his soulmate, and the people around him, made worse by the first words that pass Keith's lips...
https://archiveofourown.org/works/8153570
Kick in the Teeth:
The time travel one-shot that ended up being more fun than expected.
Roughly: Post-Canon Lance wakes up in the Red Lion just after Naxzela and kicks canon in the teeth about as hard as canon tanked his character development.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20109358/chapters/47636014
The Wrong Altean:
It is Lance’s birthday and the gang decides to surprise Lance at his farm for a surprise birthday visit, however, when they arrive, they find the place strangely quiet and even more disturbing, there are signs of struggle. A Galra blade has been found inside Lance’s house one that doesn’t belong to Keith. It is up to them to find Lance before their worst fears become reality.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22670497/chapters/54185773
Just A Touch:
Keith isn't prepared to find himself clinging to Lance, his annoying classmate at the Garrison who is also maybe his "soulmate." He isn't prepared to get expelled or to live alone in the desert and search for the source of a mysterious energy. He definitely isn't prepared to fly into space on a whim or to pilot a magical robot lion in a millennia-old war for the entire universe.
But all of that does happen, so now he has to deal with it. Keith has to adjust to life in space, to becoming a soldier, and to building close and trusting relationships with his teammates – including Lance.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/10862013/chapters/24124074
Buried Treasure:
(This fanfiction takes place in the original universe of the series.)
“Last chancey,” the captain sneered down at them. “Wheree be me treasure?” Lance couldn’t answer and Keith’s swears and denial only made pirate grin. “So be it.” And the first shovelful of dirt to bury them alive fell from above.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/22361689
Because Love was Your Reality (But it wasn't Mine):
Lance found love in this reality once—he doesn’t think he’ll ever have it again. He swore to love Allura in this universe and the next, and he’s intent on keeping that promise. On the anniversary of her passing, Allura tells him that it’s okay to move on, to find love again and Lance doesn’t believe her—doesn’t want to believe her. How is he supposed to love someone like he loved her?
Altean marks, space phones, and two hearts that were denied their love once, with time telling them to try again.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991271/chapters/39941202
Don't Forget Your Vitamins:
Fluff, Smut, Alpha!Keith/Omega!Lance
Lance is an omega. Keith is a beta. This was something Lance had made peace with and determined that there was no way they could ever work. No matter how much he would like it to. Saving the universe and all that didn’t leave a whole lot of time to pursue such a complicated relationship.
However, when Keith finally starts getting the food and nutrition his hybrid body needs he is finally revealed to be an alpha. As he struggles with his new presentation, Lance tries his best to be there for him and support him. But it's difficult when the guy you love is now totally capable of giving you the best sex of your life.
Takes place post-season 3. Keith pilots the black lion and Lance pilots the red lion. Shiro is Shiro not a clone and everything is fine except for the impending war against the Galra.
Part 1 of Don't Forget Your Vitamins
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12245481
I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm:
Fluff, Alpha!Keith/Omega!Lance
Team Voltron and the castle are on an ice cold planet and Lance is suffering. He hates the cold. He was not made for the cold. He's going to freeze to death and no he isn't being too dramatic about it.
Thankfully, his alpha mate is Galra and they come with some useful features for his predicament. Keith is more than happy to help out.
Part 2 of Don't Forget Your Vitamins
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12484528
The Black Paladin:
Black Paladin!Lance
Shiro was gone.
He vanished into thin air after the battle with Zarkon and no one had any idea what to do. The Black Lion was back inside the castle with the shields up so nobody could even get close to her. The Hall of Lions felt cold and empty with the Black Lion just sitting there and looking majestic as ever but now with blackened eyes that might never light up again.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/9727025
Magnetic In Our Purple Season Five:
It wasn’t the first time Lance had called Keith to chat and give updates, and sometimes he was even the one picking up to hear about some especially stupid teammate or a warning that he wouldn’t be able to talk for a while because of a covert mission or something. There shouldn’t be a reason for him to hesitate to call his rival, old team leader, and best friend (longtime crush more like it), but there he was with fingers hovering over the familiar face reluctantly. He didn’t want to sound like he was whining or insulting Shiro, it was just…
OR Lance calls Keith after Shiro’s outburst, resulting in the clone's reveal and changing the entire face of Voltron. Between Keith's struggles with the idea of family, Lance's lingering strife from his time with the clone, and their growing feelings for one another, what seemed set in stone must change. For better or for worse.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122084/chapters/47668594
Lance Has the Flu:
Lance has the flu and Keith takes care of him.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21375325
Diplomacy with Tentacle Aliens:
Rape / Non-Con, Top!Keith/Bottom!Lance
Lance and Keith go to engage in diplomacy with a species who, according to the Blade of Marmora, are feared by even the Galra Empire. However, due to the planet's harsh atmosphere, those who enter the planet never leave, so little is known about the species. The Red and Blue Paladins are going in not knowing what to expect, and they're about to find out first hand what happens when you attempt diplomacy with tentacle aliens.
(Fanfiction unfinished.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/12191529/chapters/27680001
Lance Has Asthma and Gets a Respiratory Infection:
Fluff, Asthmatic Lance
(This fanfiction takes place in the original universe of the series.)
Lance has asthma and gets a respiratory infection. He wakes up in the middle of the night and needs Keith to help him breathe.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/19894864
Series Unfortunate Events
The Awful Abduction:
Kidnapping, Duncan Quagmire/Klaus Baudelaire, Violet Baudelaire/Quigley Quagmire
When the Baudelaire Orphans find the Quagmires at the bottom of Esmé's elevator shaft, they concoct a plan to rescue them. Klaus insists on staying behind however; something doesn't feel right to him.
Little does he know that this one event won't go well.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/23310241/chapters/55832605
Cracked China AU (Part One):
Graphic Depictions of Violence, Duncan Quagmire/Klaus Baudelaire, Violet Baudelaire/Quigley Baudelaire, Beatride Baudelaire/Bertrand Baudelaire/Lemony Snicket
The Daily Punctilio claims that the Baudelaire family died in the fire that destroyed their home. They've got it all wrong.
Beatrice, Bertrand, Violet, and Sunny Baudelaire were inside the mansion when it burned down, but they escaped through the secret tunnels below. Now faking their deaths and on the run, they meet up with some allies and visit familiar destinations, looking for the one thing that can free them from both sides of V.F.D.
Klaus Baudelaire was sent to Briny Beach alone on the day of the Baudelaire Fire, his sisters suddenly left behind. Strange to think how that cost them their lives. Sent by Mr. Poe to live with a man named Count Olaf, Klaus meets Duncan and Isadora Quagmire, two triplets who everyone seems to think are his siblings. Chased from guardian to guardian by the sinister Count Olaf, Klaus and the Quagmires just want some peace and quiet. Count Olaf, however, has plans for them... and their money.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387760/chapters/50949763
Gravity Falls
But We Could Change It:
Time Travel, Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines, Dipper Pines & Ford Pines & Mabel Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Dipper Pines & Mabel Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Dipper Pines & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Mabel Pines
Even though everything turned out mostly okay, there was no denying Weirdmeggedon had sucked. So when Mabel found a Time Tape she suggested they go back in time and... rearrange a few things. After all, nothing bad had happened with time traveling before, right? Besides, it wouldn't be that hard to fix the past. They just had to stop Grunkle Ford from finishing the portal and getting sucked into it.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy.
Right?
Yeah, like anything in Gravity Falls was ever simple.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21701614/chapters/51763012
Batman
Raisin Delight:
Time Travel, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne
A year after Jason Todd dies, Tim Drake and Bruce Wayne take on the case when they notice strange occurrences in Gotham city. This has disastrous consequences, but so do most things that Tim gets caught up in, so what's new, really.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/15644082
Cracked Foundation:
Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne & Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd
The last thing Damian expected to happen when he ran away from home was to spend a day crammed into a small space with Jason Todd. His father's second son was a black sheep. An outcast. An angry, insanity driven criminal who enjoyed screwing with the batfamily in every way he could. At least, that's what Damian thought. Maybe he was wrong about Todd.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/14234844/chapters/32821734
I am We:
Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne
Damian's hit by a spell that splits him up into four different versions of himself.
Anger, Anxiety, Happiness, and one more that Dick can't quite name.
They're a handful. (He loves them all anyway.)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21271943/chapters/50647211
Yesterday's Voices:
Bruce Wayne & His Kids
While trying to take down a drug cartel that deals with memory altering drugs, things go awry, and Batman wakes up with no recollection of the last five years. As a result, his family must now race against time to find the antidote, while also having to deal with a Bruce who still thinks Jason is Robin. A Bruce who doesn't recognise most of them. A Bruce far less jaded and cynical than the one they're used to. A Bruce who still cares.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/11035398/chapters/24597084
Secrets:
It was always on the left. He couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. That was the side his skull had been bashed in on. But it never started in his head. It started with tingling in the tips of his fingers and a ringing in his ears that wouldn’t go away. And when the pain inevitably started, just like it always did, he couldn’t help but think that getting his skull bashed in had hurt less.
Ever since he came back to life, Jason has been dealing with chronic migraines.
Part 2 of Chronic
https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770473
Can I Still Be Robin?
“Hi, Mr. Grayson?” Damian groaned and rolled over onto his side and cursed the school policy that parents and guardians had to be contacted in the event of a so-called emergency. It wasn’t even that big of a deal.
“Yes, hi. This is Nurse Amy from Gotham Academy calling about Damian?” The phone call wouldn’t do anything but cause Grayson to panic.
“Yes. We need you to come pick him up. He passed out during lunch."
Part 3 of Chronic
https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831252
Juxtaposition:
Juxtaposition (n) the state of being close together or side by side.
Or the one where Jason reminds Tim that sometimes Damian takes jokes all too seriously.
+ the one where Tim reminds Jason that he has only himself to blame.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606995/chapters/21704609
When the Stakes are Higher:
Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
There's a new serial killer in Gotham, and he's managing to evade even Batman's attempts to catch him. The psychopath's inclinations have Bruce on edge, but Jason's not as worried...until it becomes personal. But when even the world's greatest detective is at a loss, will their efforts be enough to prevent another tragedy in the Wayne family?
https://archiveofourown.org/works/7826554/chapters/17865421
Time-Travel is not for Amateurs:
Tim Drake & Damian Wayne
That one time a Damian from an alternate future decided make things better.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/617874/chapters/1114756
The Thundermans
This is Your Heart (Can You Feel It?):
Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Max Thunderman & Phoebe Thunderman, Max Thunderman & Hank Thunderman, Thunderman Family
"Dad," Max chokes, clawing at the hand around his neck as the grip tightens and his vision starts to blur. "Dad...please."
https://archiveofourown.org/works/17023923/chapters/40024776
He's A Rebel:
Max Thunderman & Phoebe Thunderman, Dr. Colosso & Max Thunderman, Allison/Max Thunderman
An old enemy of Hank gets into the house and renders all the heroes powerless. Max, identifying as a villain, is the only one left standing. The question is, will he finally betray his family for good, or will he fight to protect them?
https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945634/chapters/52375057
*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0*
I hope you enjoyed these fanfictions that I chose! I have others, but they are common stories, without romantic relationships. I know that Batman's stories had no romantic relationship, but I don't read stories of Bruce having a relationship, and I don't read incest either. Anyway, these other stories, I can post them later, if you really liked this list!
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Wild Magic Basil
☽⦁──────── ⦁🜃⦁ ────────⦁☾
Basic Information :
Scientific Name : Ocimum basilicum
Origin : Iran, India and other tropical regions of Asia
Basil is hardy annual or short-lived perennial herbs about 100 cm tall brimming with notable health-benefiting phytonutrients. It grows best under warm, tropical climates and does best in warm environments that get about six hours of sun each day.
Basil prefers fertile, well-drained loamy soils rich in organic matter. Most soils in Utah are well suited for basil production. Choose sites that have good air circulation around the plants. The plant has 5-10 cm long, many-branched stem that are sparsely to densely villous, especially when young.
Leaves are ovate to elliptic-ovate, 3-6 (-11) cm long, 1.3-3 (-5) cm wide, both surfaces copiously dotted with sessile oil glands, upper surface puberulent, lower surface strigose on veins, margins sub entire to remotely crenulate, apex acute, base cuneate, petioles 1-2 cm long.
Flowers are quite large, white or purple, arranged in terminal spikes. Basil plants don’t produce seed “pods” or very large seeds. Normally basil flower produces small black seeds. Basil plant has strong, pungent, often sweet smell and has taste somewhat like anise.
☽⦁──────── ⦁🜃⦁ ────────⦁☾
Food & Variety :
Basil is actually a common name for a culinary herb Ocimum Basilium. It belongs to the mint family and is also known as Saint Joseph’s Wort in English speaking countries. It is also called the “king of herbs” and the “royal herb”.
Apart from basil it is also known as great basil or Saint-Joseph’s-wort. The word basil comes from the Greek word basileus meaning the king. It was also said by an herbalist named John Gerad that people stung by a scorpion would feel no pain if they ate basil. This herb has its roots in India and Iran and these lands have been cultivating for more than 5000 years.
Due to its distinct flavor and wide usage in many cuisines it is also known as king of herbs by many culinary experts. There are a wide range of basil leaves available and they all belong to different cultivar. Lemon basil has a strong lemony smell and a distinctive taste it is widely used in Indonesia.
Christmas Basil, Cinnamon Basil, Dark Opal Basil, Holy Basil, Lemon Basil, Lime Basil, Spicy Bush Basil, Purple Ruffles Basil, Round midnight Basil and Sweet Thai Basil are few of the most popular varieties of basil grown throughout the world because of its wonderful health promoting benefits.
☽⦁──────── ⦁🜃⦁ ────────⦁☾
Spiritual History :
When it comes to conjure, Basil is thought to be one of the more versatile kitchen herbs to work with. Known to aid in matters of luck, money, purification, banishment, love and a number of other magical uses, Basil serves as the perfect herb to always keep on hand.
It has a vast history with numerous connections to ancient lore. In modern times it continues to be widely utilized for it's powerful effects, and this is certainly true when it comes to kitchen witchery.
Basil, once believed by the Greeks to have the power to aid in divination, once was used as a means to detect witches. One of the more popular methods employed by the ancient Greeks was to simply name out suspected witches while Basil was being burned.
When it made a crackling sound as a name was called, it suggested who was practicing witchcraft. The ancient Hebrews used Basil for courage and strength while other middle eastern cultures used it as an herb of mourning.
The ancient Roman's, however, had quite a different take on Basil. The Romans used Basil as a means to curse their enemies. One of their rituals was to curse their enemies as they sowed the seeds.
They believed that the more you mistreated the herb, the better it would grow. To ensure a good crop, one was to curse the herb and pray to the gods that the herb would not grow.
In India, on the other hand, both Basil and Holy Basil have is associations to Vishnu and Krishna. It is considered to be a sacred herb and is kept in the home to protect against evil. It is also believed to have wonderful healing properties. Not only is basil used for it's medicinal properties, it is commonly prayed to.
When it comes to love, Basil also served many purposes. A husband could find out if his wife was unfaithful by having her hold a sprig of basil. If the leaves shriveled, the woman was believed to have been unfaithful.
Another common belief maintained that if you smelled basil, you would attract a new lover. And another popular myth that suggested if a young maiden wanted a husband, she merely had to plant some basil and in a years times a new suitor would show up.
In Santeria, Basil can be for purification and luck baths. It is also widely used as a fumigating herb, known to remove spirits from a home. Mixed with passion flower, it can be made into a powerful cleansing bath. It is also commonly used in a number of sacred objects and talismans.
☽⦁──────── ⦁🜃⦁ ────────⦁☾
Magical Attributes :
🌿Purification Spray🌿
Simmer cut lemon and fresh basil in water. When cooled and added to a spray bottle, it can be used to clean sacred objects, candles, altars, spaces, the work environment, etc.
🌿Purification Bath🌿
Mix basil, eucalyptus and rosemary into some epsom or kosher salt. Add 3 tablespoons of this mixture into your bath. To banish bad habits or negative energy, perform a spiritual bath by lighting two black candles at each side of the tub. Mix the salt mixture into a warm bucket of water and pour over your body, from the top of your head to the bottom of your feet.
🌿Exorcism Incense🌿
Mix basil, rue, hyssop and myrrh and grind to a powder. Burn over a charcoal making sure you fumigated every corner of your home.
🌿Banishing Incense or Banishing Bath🌿
Mix basil, pine, lemon peel and Devils Shoestring. Either grind to a powder and burn over charcoal for incense. Or Simmer in water for a bath wash.
🌿Harmony, Love and Forgiveness Incense🌿
Mix basil, marjoram, lavender and balm of gilead and grind them down to a powder. Burn over a charcoal in the center of the home. This same recipe can be used for reconciliation, particularly if you add a bit of violet.
🌿To Draw in Money🌿
Carry a basil leaf in your wallet. Simmer basil, cinnamon and chamomile. Once cool, use as a floor wash for your home and/ or business.
☽⦁──────── ⦁🜃⦁ ────────⦁☾
Sources :
https://www.healthbenefitstimes.com/health-benefits-of-basil
https://artoftheroot.com/blogs/news/39475141-basil-in-hoodoo-voodoo-wiccan-pagan-rituals-folklore-and-spell
https://images.app.goo.gl/wFFR6o8GLzo3oxx66
https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.anniesannuals.com%2Fsigns%2Fb%2520-%2520c%2Fimages%2Fbasil_herbalea_wild_magic_08.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.anniesannuals.com%2Fplants%2Fview%2F%3Fid%3D4471&tbnid=pCx6goQuVKIPIM&vet=1&docid=nOXBGlNIwxbMoM&w=769&h=850&hl=en-ZA&source=sh%2Fx%2Fim
https://pin.it/4umcecogctxarv
https://pin.it/uniqfpm5236d63
https://images.app.goo.gl/zDLggp4t4nnPNTLE7
https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http%3A%2F%2Ffishige.info%2Fwp-content%2Fuploads%2F2019%2F03%2Fpurple-basil-plant-dark-opal-purple-basil-flower.jpg&imgrefurl=http%3A%2F%2Ffishige.info%2Fpurple-basil-plant%2Fpurple-basil-plant-dark-opal-purple-basil-flower%2F&tbnid=3PzGecb1tvVrhM&vet=1&docid=WcRGlwXVF7wMOM&w=683&h=1024&hl=en-ZA&source=sh%2Fx%2Fim]
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Book List 2018
I’m a couple weeks behind on this, but here’s the list of books I read in 2018. I’ve broken it down by category, though this is pretty loose since, you know, genres bleed into one another and such. You can also find reviews of some of these books here, and I always take requests for reviews as well. Follow me on Goodreads to see what I’m reading and rating.
Let me know what you think if you’ve read any of these books or have recommendations, and, as always, please feel free to send me malicious personal attacks if I say something you disagree with.
Non-Fiction
Philosophy
Pragmatism and Feminism: Reweaving the Social Fabric by Charlene Haddock Seigfried
The Pragmatic Turn by Richard J. Bernstein
Race Matters by Cornel West
Democracy Matters: Winning the Fight Against Imperialism by Cornel West
American Philosophy: A Love Story by John Kaag
Ethics Without Ontology by Hilary Putnam
Meaning in Life and Why It Matters by Susan Wolf
The Variety of Values: Essays on Morality, Meaning, and Love by Susan Wolf
The Really Hard Problem: Meaning in a Material World by Owen J. Flanagan
Meaning in Life by Thaddeus Metz
The Human Eros: Eco-Ontology and the Aesthetics of Existence by Thomas Alexander
Naturalism and Normativity by Mario De Caro (Editor), David Macarthur (Editor)
Truth in Context: An Essay on Pluralism and Objectivity by Michael P. Lynch
Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks
The Origin of Others by Toni Morrison
Experiments in Ethics by Kwame Anthony Appiah
Ethics in the Real World: 86 Brief Essays on Things that Matter by Peter Singer
The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone de Beauvoir
A Very Easy Death by Simone de Beauvoir
The Story of Philosophy: The Lives and Opinions of the World's Greatest Philosophers by Will Durant
Why Buddhism is True: The Science and Philosophy of Enlightenment by Robert Wright
A Defense of Buddhist Virtue Ethics by Jack Hamblin
Living Buddha, Living Christ by Thich Nhat Hanh
The Infidel and the Professor: David Hume, Adam Smith, and the Friendship That Shaped Modern Thought by Dennis C. Rasmussen
The Book of Joy: Lasting Happiness in a Changing World by Dalai Lama XIV, Desmond Tutu, and Douglas Carlton Abrams
Reality, Art and Illusion by Alan Watts
Democracy and Social Ethics by Jane Addams
Common Sense by Thomas Paine
From Bacteria to Bach and Back: The Evolution of Minds by Daniel C. Dennett
Science
Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst by Robert Sapolsky
The Rise and Fall of the Dinosaurs: A New History of a Lost World by Stephen Brusatte
Why Dinosaurs Matter by Kenneth Lacovara
I Contain Multitudes: The Microbes Within Us and a Grander View of Life by Ed Yong
The Evolution of Beauty: How Darwin's Forgotten Theory of Mate Choice Shapes the Animal World—And Us by Richard O. Prum
Gulp: Adventures on the Alimentary Canal by Mary Roach
Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach
Bonk: The Curious Coupling of Science and Sex by Mary Roach
She Has Her Mother's Laugh: The Powers, Perversions, and Potential of Heredity by Carl Zimmer
Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind by Yuval Noah Harari
21 Lessons for the 21st Century by Yuval Noah Harari
Caesar's Last Breath: Decoding the Secrets of the Air Around Us by Sam Kean
Why Evolution is True by Jerry Coyne
What Is Real?: The Unfinished Quest for the Meaning of Quantum Physics by Adam Becker
Brief Answers to the Big Questions by Stephen Hawking
Seven Brief Lessons on Physics by Carlo Rovelli
The Physics of Time by Carlo Rovelli
Physics of the Impossible: A Scientific Exploration of the World of Phasers, Force Fields, Teleportation, and Time Travel by Michio Kaku
The Spinning Magnet: The Force That Created the Modern World--and Could Destroy It by Alanna Mitchell
Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space by Carl Sagan
Visions for the 21st Century by Carl Sagan et al.
The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee
What the Dog Saw and Other Adventures by Malcolm Gladwell
The Soul of the Night: An Astronomical Pilgrimage by Chet Raymo
The Virgin and the Mousetrap: Essays in Search of the Soul of Science by Chet Raymo
Politics/Race/Gender
The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love by bell hooks
Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay
Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture by Roxane Gay (editor)
Dear Ijeawele, or a Feminist Manifesto in Fifteen Suggestions by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
Eloquent Rage: A Black Feminist Discovers Her Superpower by Brittney Cooper
Women & Power: A Manifesto by Mary Beard
The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin
I Am Not Your Negro by James Baldwin
The Origin of Others by Toni Morrison
Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson
Race Matters by Cornel West
Democracy Matters: Winning the Fight Against Imperialism by Cornel West
Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America by Ibram X. Kendi
The Souls of Black Folk by W.E.B. Du Bois
Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City by Matthew Desmond
Tears We Cannot Stand: A Sermon to White America by Michael Eric Dyson
What Truth Sounds Like: Robert F. Kennedy, James Baldwin, and Our Unfinished Conversation About Race in America by Michael Eric Dyson
White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo
White Trash: The 400-Year Untold History of Class in America by Nancy Isenberg
The Common Good by Robert Reich
Transgender History by Susan Stryker
Memoir
Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay
South of Forgiveness: A True Story of Rape and Responsibility by Thordis Elva
Letter to My Daughter by Maya Angelou
The Chicken Chronicles by Alice Walker
The Last Jew of Treblinka by Chil Rajchman
My Own Life by David Hume
Tough Shit: Life Advice from a Fat, Lazy Slob Who Did Good by Kevin Smith
Tibetan Peach Pie: A True Account of an Imaginative Life by Tom Robbins
Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass by Frederick Douglass
The Sun Does Shine: How I Found Life and Freedom on Death Row by Anthony Ray Hinton
Black Klansman: Race, Hate, and the Undercover Investigation of a Lifetime by Ron Stallworth
Calypso by David Sedaris
Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris
Ink Spots by Brian McDonald
No Time to Spare: Thinking About What Matters by Ursula K. Le Guin
History/Biography
Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee: An Indian History of the American West by Dee Brown
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson
Barracoon: The Story of the Last "Black Cargo" by Zora Neale Hurston
No god but God: The Origins, Evolution and Future of Islam by Reza Aslan
God: A Human History by Reza Aslan
One Nation Under God: How Corporate America Invented Christian America by Kevin M. Kruse
The Etymologicon: A Circular Stroll through the Hidden Connections of the English Language by Mark Forsyth
Quackery: A Brief History of the Worst Ways to Cure Everything by Lydia Kang
Fiction
Literary Fiction
Go Tell It on the Mountain by James Baldwin
Another Country by James Baldwin
If Beale Street Could Talk by James Baldwin
Blues for Mister Charlie by James Baldwin
Going to Meet the Man by James Baldwin
The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
East of Eden by John Steinbeck
Bartleby the Scrivener by Herman Melville
Home by Toni Morrison
God Help the Child by Toni Morrison
The Yellow Wallpaper and Other Stories by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee
The Dead by James Joyce
Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn
Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett
The Underground Railroad by Colson Whitehead
The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
The Adventures of Tom Sawyer by Mark Twain
A Confederacy of Dunces by Jonh Kennedy Toole
The Dork of Cork by Chet Raymo
Genre Fiction
The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman
An Absolutely Remarkable Thing by Hank Green
Slice of Life by Kurt Vonnegut
2BR02B by Kurt Vonnegut
The Fifth Season by N.K. Jemisin
I, Robot by Isaac Asimov
Foundation by Isaac Asimov
Annihilation by Jeff VanderMeer
Kindred by Octavia E. Butler
Bloodchild and Other Stories by Octavia E. Butler
The Haunting of Hill House by Shirley Jackson
Pure Drivel by Steve Martin
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by J.K. Rowling
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows by J.K. Rowling
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by J.K. Rowling
Pet Sematary by Stephen King
The Green Mile by Stephen King
A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens
The Legend of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving
The Restaurant at the End of the Universe by Douglas Adams
Life, the Universe and Everything by Douglas Adams
The Bad Beginning: A Series of Unfortunate Events #1 by Lemony Snicket
Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary by David Sedaris
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro
Worst of 2018
Every single book I read this past year had redemptive value. Even if it was total garbage, it still taught me some stuff (like how not to write a book). Even a bad book can be a good book if you let it be.
So, here’re a few books that didn’t quite hit the spot for me:
Ready Player One by Ernest Cline
Ishmael: An Adventure of the Mind and Spirit by Daniel Quinn
Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee
Spook: Science Tackles the Afterlife by Mary Roach
The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho
Ink Spots by Brian McDonald
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair That Changed America by Erik Larson
Best of 2018
It was genuinely difficult to choose my top books of 2018. What a literary year it has been for me. 2018 marks the most books I’ve read in a year, and I was lucky enough to come across some real game-changers. I finally read the Harry Potter series and, boy howdy, did it ever live up to the hype. What took me so long?? But this was, more than anything, the year of James Baldwin. He has made an indelible mark on me as a reader, a writer, and a human. What a year this has been! I hope to read a fraction as much beautiful, lovely, challenging, profound prose in 2019.
In no particular order, here are the books of 2018 that most moved me, shook me, rattled me, rolled me:
Behave: The Biology of Humans at Our Best and Worst by Robert Sapolsky
Teaching to Transgress: Education as the Practice of Freedom by bell hooks
The Pragmatic Turn by Richard J. Bernstein
Pragmatism and Feminism: Reweaving the Social Fabric by Charlene Haddock Seigfried
The Ethics of Ambiguity by Simone de Beauvoir
What Is Real?: The Unfinished Quest for the Meaning of Quantum Physics by Adam Becker
Pale Blue Dot: A Vision of the Human Future in Space by Carl Sagan
The Soul of the Night: An Astronomical Pilgrimage by Chet Raymo
The Fire Next Time by James Baldwin
Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption by Bryan Stevenson
Hunger: A Memoir of (My) Body by Roxane Gay
Well, there you have it, folks. Here’s to many more good books in the years to come!
The unread story is not a story; it is little black marks on wood pulp. The reader, reading it, makes it live: a live thing, a story. —Ursula K. Le Guin
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Gem Ascension Tropes (General: L - P)
Refer to the initial post for details on this. Here’s the full version on Google Docs.
Left Hanging: Unlike Change Your Mind, Gem Ascension Act III ends with loads of unresolved plot threads. This was deliberate, however, as it facilitated the means for the sequel stories that came out after the main series.
The Legend of Chekhov: Combined with Prophecies Are Always Right, this is what White Diamond exposits to the Crystal Gems in Chapter 7 of Act III when she talks about the “Diamond of Miracles”, a fusion between two Diamonds, which no one else has heard of before. Peridot immediately dismisses it; most others don’t put much stock in it, either. Steven, however, realizes that the important detail is that White believes in it, and she’s willing to risk undergoing a double-diamond fusion (which has never happened before) to make the Diamond of Miracles a reality. Sure enough, the legend ends up being absolutely true, but not in a way White wanted it to be. The Diamond of Miracles exists, but in the form of Chartreuse Diamond and Pink Diamond 2.0’s fusion. White Diamond was never part of the equation.
Lemony Narrator
Let’s Get Dangerous!: This is the premise for most of Act I; the Crystal Gems that are either new recruits, out-of-practice, or notoriously weak comic relief band together and take it upon themselves to rescue their more prolific teammates in a high-stakes mission where the odds are heavily stacked against them. Despite many bumps in the road, they perform competently and complete their objective.
Let’s Split Up, Gang!: Largely averted, save for a few justified exceptions. This trope is proposed early on, but Peridot sternly rejects it on the grounds that she’s the only one who knows her way around Homeworld, and given the circumstances, the risk of Bismuth and/or Lapis getting lost is far too great to take a chance on this strategy.
It does happen in Chapter 5 of Act I, but this was due to Steven and Peridot needing an isolated, private place to heal the latter’s wounds while the others pressed on to rescue the rest of their teammates, now that Connie has reunited with the group and can guide them in Peridot’s place. Since Steven and Peridot split up using Lion, they’re able to quickly reunite with their teammates.
Pearl proposes this strategy in Chapter 7 of Act III – half of the team (herself, Connie, and Amethyst) directly confront Celadon Diamond to distract her while the other half of the team (Garnet, Lapis, Bismuth, and later Steven) track down White Diamond’s proxies and dispatch them so that once Celadon defuses, White won’t be able to hide behind an army of identical puppets like before and can be directly confronted. Luckily for the Crystal Gems, this works out perfectly for them.
Let’s Wait a While: Post-GA, Steven and Peridot both agree to this, especially when Garnet recommends specifically to wait until they’re 17 (or at least for Steven to turn 17) to go all the way with their relationship. Unfortunately, the nature of the work both of them have to go through invokes so much stress that they’re desperate to defy this after a few months on Peridot’s birthday. They ultimately succumb as of It’s a Birthday, Yes It Is Chapter 2, although given the performance of both parties, it’s a stretch to say they really defied it…
Like You Would Really Do It: Peridot IS the main character of this story, after all… dying less than halfway into the series just seems a little bit suspect, don’t you think?
Literal Split Personality: Steven and Peridot fall victim to this in Chapter 5 of This is Who I Am through Gypsum and 5XF’s powers. Their whole beings are now fragmented into a light and dark side; Steven and Peridot are forced to fight each other’s dark sides to the death in separate dimensions. The personalities are linked together, meaning Dark Steven will feel Light Steven’s pain and vice-versa. Should one side fall, the other will follow suit, resulting in the entire being’s death.
Literally Shattered Lives: The only way a gem can be killed off for good is via a shattered gemstone, per canon. Yellow Diamond is the only one who might have averted this, as her gemstone was already damaged (but not mortally so) and it’s heavily implied she was forcibly assimilated with White Diamond, so… same end result, but possibly done a little differently.
The pallid gems that were forced to merge and fuse together to make one single doppelganger of White Diamond will shatter instantly even if the proxy is poofed.
Living Bodysuit: What the pallid gems end up being for White Diamond… only they never regain their consciousness even after White’s done directly manipulating them.
Losing the Team Spirit: How the Crystal Gems are shown at the start of Act II, which takes place no more than an hour or so after Peridot was Left for Dead.
Lost in a Crowd: In Chapter 7 of Act I, the Crystal Gems split into pairs while staying within sight of each other to maneuver through the mob of gems filling the hallways. The last team of Peridot, Ruby, and Sapphire end up like this when they take a moment to notice a swarm of pallids coming their way. The next time group leader Ruby looks ahead, she realizes Amethyst, who was not far ahead of her, is no longer in sight.
Love Confession: Peridot gives a bit of an indirect kind to Steven in Chapter 5 of Act I, though she’s clear enough that Steven understands and acknowledges her feelings (although given the circumstances, both agree this is not the time to even be talking about love). She delivers a much more profound confession in her Video Will to Steven in Chapter 8 of Act II, which she chronologically did before the confession in Act I. It also resonates with Steven much more strongly; to the point where there’s no doubt whatsoever he feels the same way for Peridot.
Love is a Weakness: Both Steven and Peridot suffer this individually in Act III. For Peridot, it was the belief that Steven came to save her (despite her orders for him and everyone else to not go back for her) that caused her to lose to White Diamond after being locked in a stalemate with her for nearly a week. Peridot’s love for Steven always gave her strength until this point, and her love for Steven is taken advantage of a second time later in Act III. The second incident is what makes Steven despair and blame himself, although Moonstone is quick to shake him out of that mindset and outright tells him he should never regard his love for Peridot (or her love for Steven) as a weakness.
Love Makes You Dumb/Crazy: Steven and Peridot are guilty on both counts of these tropes.
Dumb: Steven’s What an Idiot! moment in Chapter 8 of Act II when he’s compelled to return to Homeworld immediately to rescue Peridot despite having no plan and almost no recovery time since the last mission. Steven’s at least self-aware to some degree as he knows no one else will go along with him, so he opts to go out on his own by hijacking the airship. That point hammers in the dumb as Steven doesn’t take a moment to consider the fact that he has no idea how to pilot a spaceship. For Peridot, it might be a stretch to call it dumb, but she did fall for White Diamond’s mirage of Steven even after she had accepted no one would come to rescue her. Probably justified considering the degree of mental torture she’s endured up to this point and just had an understandable Moment of Weakness. Still, kind of sad she resisted White Diamond for nearly a week only to succumb like that.
Crazy: Steven’s triggered into being Blinded by Rage after witnessing (via flashback/memory projection) the instance of Peridot’s aforementioned dumb moment that results in her neck getting brutally sliced open. It’s hard enough to watch as it is, but then having that same scene on loop endlessly play in your head, and you can’t make yourself blind or deaf to it? That’s decisively his crazy moment. With Peridot, one can argue love made her crazy several times in the story. However, probably the most notable one is when she’s in Revenge Before Reason mode in Chapter 6 of Act III, getting revenge on White Diamond for the aforementioned scene that made Steven crazy. She was already driven insane by that point, but inadvertently enticing Steven to join her (and succeeding in that!) no doubt made her doubly crazy.
Meaningful Name: At first, Gem Ascension was in reference to Peridot’s role “ascending” from Plucky Comic Relief to a Hero Protagonist. As the story was further developed, it expanded to Peridot’s ascent from the bottom of the caste system to the absolute top as a Diamond whose power was limited only by her own imagination.
Meet the In-Laws: They’re years away from being married, but not only does Greg already see Peridot as an imminent in-law, so does Pink Diamond, whose spirit meets Peridot (as Chartreuse Diamond) in person in Chapter 4 of Act III and wastes no time gushing over them and talking like she already expects grandkids. Peridot nearly dies out of embarrassment, though it’s a surprisingly amicable meeting considering Peridot’s low opinion of Pink based on what little she knows about her (which Pink is aware of). At least, it’s amicable until Pink points out how short Chartreuse is by Diamond standards.
Mental World: Peridot goes through this twice. The first time is voluntary, as she refuses to leave her gemstone to reform after she recovers from the injuries she sustained in Act I. White Diamond manages to manipulate Peridot’s own safe space with various horror worlds that force Peridot to fight for survival, though it doesn’t take her long to realize none of what’s happening is real. After forcibly being dragged back into reality, part of Peridot’s identity (namely her bold Determinator trait) is severed from her mind by White Diamond and locked away within Peridot’s own subconscious. That particular Peridot becomes aware of her new prison and tries to cope by clinging to her idealized imaginary Steven in hopes of recovering before trying to break free. Then the real Steven comes by to save her not long after this.
Mineral MacGuffin: The golden crystal 5XF obtains in This is Who I Am Chapter 4 embeds itself directly into her body in the following chapter and cannot be removed, which simultaneously makes it a Clingy MacGuffin from that point going forward. Since it’s strongly implied that particular crystal hosts the disembodied conscious spirit of Gypsum, a corrupted gem, and said gem was never properly dealt with in the story, it becomes a dangerous, yet necessary element to bring along in the upcoming mission where Gypsum will be directly confronted.
Mirror Match: Attempted, but Averted in Chapter 5 of This is Who I Am; 5XF knows this dynamic won’t work on Steven and Peridot, who went through a hellacious journey to achieve self-acceptance by the end of GA. To remedy this, 5XF employs an Opponent Switch to make Steven and Peridot fight each other’s Literal Split Personalities.
Misery Builds Character: Peridot and Steven easily fit in this trope the most, but it honestly extends to the whole cast to varying degrees.
Most Annoying Sound: In Chapter 7 of Act II, Steven is finally awakened from his Angst Coma when he hears a deafening “STEVEN CLOD!” in Peridot’s voice on loop courtesy of Pearl, who used this part of Peridot’s Video Will to her to wake Steven up.
Multiple Choice Ending: In Chapter 7 of Act I, Sapphire shares her vision of how the rest of the mission will play out with Peridot. Although the outcome is always the same in that one of the Crystal Gems will ultimately get left behind while the others escape safely, it becomes evident that who gets left behind has not yet been determined, meaning the one who doesn’t make it could be any one of the Crystal Gems. While Peridot elects herself to be the last one to escape, she makes it clear that she’s not choosing to sacrifice herself and will do everything she can to avoid that fate. While Peridot comes close to defying her fate, she unfortunately falls victim to it at the very last second.
Mythology Gag: Warrants its own page.
Necessary Fail: One could argue it was necessary for Peridot to be left behind in Act I, considering everything that goes down in Act III. Had Peridot successfully escaped with everyone else in Act I, there’s a high chance Homeworld would have been destroyed without the Crystal Gems even knowing about it, which would result in untold amounts of casualties and the colonies would still plunge into civil disorder. Considering Yellow and Blue were already dead by this point regardless, and pallification was becoming massively widespread, it’s evident that White Diamond was driven to run her own planet down into the ground regardless of whether or not she had Steven or a hostage to lure Steven back with. And while it would take a few hundred years to know for sure, Peridot’s diamond developing naturally could have been a much more dangerous process and no one would have any idea what was really happening to her.
Going even further back – and this bit was brought up a few times in GA – is just how much of a Manipulative Bastard Peridot needed to be when she lived on Homeworld. Had she behaved normally, Peridot never would have stood out as The Ace of her kind and likely wouldn’t have been selected for the mission to Earth, meaning she never would have met the Crystal Gems in the first place. So, she not only would never redeem herself and find her true identity, Earth itself might not have survived past the point of Gem Drill.
Never Split the Party: Mostly in play during Act I, save for Chapter 5 when Steven and Peridot split from the group using Lion so that Peridot’s injuries can be healed in a safer environment while Bismuth, Lapis, and Connie move on to rescue Garnet, Amethyst, and Pearl. It’s short-lived, however, as the team reunites before the halfway point of the following chapter. Before this, Peridot’s teammates propose splitting up on a couple of occasions, but Peridot firmly rejects it, reminding them that she’s the only one who knows her way around Homeworld, thus splitting up the group would only result in her teammates getting lost with a very low chance of being able to find each other again. In Act III, the group stays together for the majority of the mission for the same reason, with a single exception in Chapters 6 and 7. Every time the team is split up in Act III otherwise was beyond their control and engineered by their opponents.
No Loves Intersect: Ultimately ends up like this and for the most part has been this trope for the entire series. There’s a small bit of Early Installment Weirdness where Peridot presumes there will be competition for Steven’s heart (Connie), though she averts the Love Triangle prospect hard, being willing to concede to Connie before any fight can take place because she values her friendship with both of them too much to put that at risk. Peridot also considers she might be looking into the matter too deeply and there’s nothing between Connie and Steven at all (which ends up being the case due to past canon events making Connie want to step away from the love picture in general for a while), but nonetheless has no desire for a conflict despite how much she loves Steven. On the other end, when Connie finds out in great detail the extent of Peridot’s love for Steven in Chapter 4 of Act II, Connie is the one who wants to automatically forfeit the potential love triangle. Not only because she and Steven are already Amicable Exes before GA even started, but after finding out what exactly Steven means to Peridot, Connie can’t bring herself to come between them. By the time they reunite in Act III, everyone’s on the same page and Connie’s fully supportive of the relationship.
No One Gets Left Behind: Peridot’s very adamant about this during the Act I mission, and almost succeeds. When Sapphire shows her future vision that shows no matter what happens, one person is getting left behind, Peridot nominates herself. She still intends to Screw Destiny, but as a failsafe, can best live with not fulfilling her promise if she’s the one who gets left behind. And unfortunately, that’s exactly what ends up happening.
This trope is why the Crystal Gems spend six days preparing for the Act III mission. Peridot and her team had no choice but to go in blind during Act I. With a lot more help this time around and the gems at least having a good idea what they’re up against and what they need to do to rescue Peridot, they’re all upping their game to make it a certainty that they don’t lose anyone this time. Ultimately, they succeed.
Not-So-Final Confession: What Peridot’s Video Wills in Act II ultimately are, as she’s revealed to be very much alive by the end of Act II.
Nothing is the Same Anymore: After Gem Ascension, it certainly isn’t. After all…
Homeworld is gone. All gems who lived there are now on Earth. They’re left with no choice but to learn to adapt to Earth life and its culture. The heroes have been there and done that before with various individuals (Peridot and Lapis, most notably), but now the Crystal Gems have to figure out how to do what they did before with thousands of gems simultaneously.
No more Diamond Authority. White, Yellow, and Blue Diamond are Deader than Dead. On top of adapting to a new planet, the gems have to learn how to live for themselves without being under a Diamond’s watchful eye, despite there still being two Diamonds left in existence (Chartreuse and Pink Diamond 2.0 do not want to follow in their footsteps). They have to learn how to think and feel freely, and with so many gems in this boat, it’s going to be a long, drawn-out process to wean them off the way of life they had before.
Again, Peridot and Steven have no intention of making a new version of the Diamond Authority with their Alter Egos. They will be playing a part in rehabilitating the gems, but there will be heavy emphasis that they’re nothing more than teachers helping them adapt to Earth life, and the gems will be set free to do as they like (within Earth’s laws) without having to answer to anyone. However…
Chartreuse and Pink 2.0 will be needed in some capacity to make some headway with stubborn gems, and their abilities will be needed to give the gems temporary residences, as there are way too many to just keep around the temple, or even Beach City. Peridot and Steven will be put front and center in Era 3 whether they want to be or not, as they’re the closest things the refugee gems have to some degree of Homeworld familiarity. Additionally…
They will need their Diamond forms to properly communicate with Homeworld’s colonies, which are still intact but just as Locked Out of the Loop as the refugees, meaning they’re likely to fall into civil disorder and total anarchy when they realize they no longer have a home base to report back to. The Crystal Gems need to bring their diplomatic A-game for this, as they risk luring these hostile colonies to Earth if they can’t come to an agreement.
While Pearl has the means to make a cure, she won’t come across the right formula overnight. Plus, there are many more afflicted gems that need purification. Not only is there still a need to find a cure for the corrupted gems, but now there are thousands of pallified gems that are more than just corrupted, but are effectively in limbo. That means it’s highly unlikely that there’s a cure in existence that can treat both conditions simultaneously.
On a lighter note, all of the Crystal Gems are living under the same roof now. In short time, the new recruits will even have real rooms to call their own.
Not Used to Freedom: The Homeworld Gems who take refuge on Earth shortly before Homeworld’s destruction. So far, only 5XF has been shown to be released, but does indeed struggle with this for a while. It’s a foregone conclusion most gems will face challenges adjusting to this when they are eventually set free.
Novel
Official Couple Ordeal Syndrome: This happens to Steven and Peridot mercilessly throughout GA. Though YMMV regarding when Steven and Peridot should be considered an Official Couple due to how events in GA play out (see Love Revelation Epiphany on Steven’s section for full details on that spectrum), simply going from the moment Peridot first confesses in Chapter 5 of Act I, there’s…
The mutual trauma of being split up at Act I’s finale when Peridot’s Twisted Ankle makes it so that she can’t escape Homeworld with the rest of her friends.
Steven’s unable to cope with leaving Peridot to (potentially) die, and by the time everyone returns to Earth in Act II, he forces himself into a deep sleep just to avoid Peridot’s Video Will to him.
When his friends finally wake him up in Chapter 7, there’s already hints of his powers going haywire due to his trauma. When he finally watches Peridot’s message, Steven comes very close to embarking on a suicide mission to save her as he can’t bear the thought of her being White Diamond’s prisoner a moment longer. His friends pull him back down to reality, but the fact that Steven went out of his way to lie to attempt this says a lot about how his mental state is rendered from the trauma (especially since he was able to deceive someone with a lie for once).
Peridot, meanwhile, is tortured for the next six days mentally, physically, and emotionally. She’s already under the impression she’ll never see Steven again (she was very adamant in her messages to her friends to not come back for her) and is stuck with only White Diamond for company the entire time. Being the Determinator she is, she’s at least able to resist everything White Diamond throws at her… that is, until the latter uses Peridot’s memories of Steven to fool her into thinking he returned to save her. Even she can’t resist turning her attention to him, though falling into this Hope Spot makes White Diamond finally overpower her. This leads to Peridot’s Alter Ego Chartreuse Diamond’s existence, which is a life-long consequence Peridot forever has to live with.
Shortly after being securely under White Diamond’s thumb as Chartreuse, the Crystal Gems return to save Peridot (while the main reason Peridot conceded to an alignment change was her resigned hopes of ever seeing them again). Now Peridot’s trapped in a situation where she has to treat Steven not only like a stranger, but an enemy. Once everyone except Steven is captured, a short talk reveals to Chartreuse that Steven’s figured out who she really is. In a panic, Chartreuse imprisons Steven as well, and is finally given an opportunity to explain herself and hopefully make amends when White Diamond lets her off on her own, though it isn’t easy for Peridot to know how to make amends. Especially when she’s had a fractured mind since her ascension that greatly impairs her judgment.
After a brief reprieve in Chapter 4 of Act III where Steven and Peridot reconcile, Steven is set on healing Peridot’s fractured mind. In the midst of doing so, however, he undergoes a trauma so great that it fractures his mind, and Peridot has no means of truly helping him without summoning his mother’s spirit and enduring a crushing amount of embarrassment in the process.
Additionally, while Peridot manages to get Steven calmed down, it induced a Plot-Relevant Age-Up and hints of him being in a transitional state for what he would later become, which weighs heavily on Peridot’s conscience even though she knows it was unavoidable.
After a moment of self-indulgence, Steven and Peridot reunite with the rest of the team and Peridot owns up to being Chartreuse. While they get another moment alone out of the deal before everyone heads out to confront White Diamond directly, it’s later revealed this moment of reprieve and the last are greatly hampered by Steven and Peridot attempting to fuse and failing. Peridot knows if she can’t fuse with Steven, she has no chance to fuse at all, which is too heartbreaking even for Steven’s support to settle.
While it doesn’t change their relationship (which is when they fully acknowledge being an official couple), the previous scene makes the two rather distant from one another, with Steven barely speaking and Peridot holding the Jerkass Ball to everyone else. Even though everyone can see plain as day something happened between them, neither will acknowledge it.
During the White Diamond battle, Peridot’s sanity visibly crumbles. So many fusions are part of the battle, including Stevonnie, which Peridot forces herself to grin and bear. Then she gets an idea after seeing a certain part of White Diamond that makes her completely Ax-Crazy. Even worse, Peridot’s actions are not only understood by Steven, but he feels compelled to actually join her and eventually does so, breaking the Stevonnie fusion in the process. Peridot’s forced to become Chartreuse again to make any headway with her vengeance, and Steven is triggered enough to shift into the state he was previously in during his Blinded by Rage moment.
The battle abruptly turns in White Diamond’s favor and becomes a Curb-Stomp Battle where Chartreuse and Steven are captured by her while everyone else is moderately to severely injured. White forces Steven to fully awaken as Pink Diamond 2.0, which leaves him stunned in a Heroic BSoD while Chartreuse, unable to get through to him, is confronted with not being able to fuse with him and affirming her own feelings of guilt that she’s really just a Poisonous Friend if her rage could make Steven of all people violent and vengeful.
These points render Chartreuse vulnerable to White’s influence again, resulting in a forced fusion between the two while Steven’s still paralyzed in shock over being Pink 2.0. Celadon Diamond is formed, and Steven’s left with a final note that’s basically an order from Peridot to Kill Us Both (referring to Celadon) that puts him through another BSoD, though it doesn’t last long before Steven realizes a detail Peridot overlooked that basically ensures she will be freed eventually of White’s own volition despite her claims.
However, Peridot can’t break out of the Celadon fusion. Even when Celadon uses her own powers to destroy her spaceship (which Greg and Pumpkin are still inside of), Peridot’s unable to prevent it. While Greg barely survives, Pumpkin was not so fortunate. Only then does Peridot find the power to break the Celadon fusion.
Peridot’s Heroic BSoD after Pumpkin dies quickly invokes an Angst Nuke that’s tearing up an already-dying planet. With the ship destroyed, it’s looking like Peridot completely screwed over everybody.
After enduring a lot of pain from Peridot’s agony, things finally turn up for the couple from here on out when they reconcile and fuse to become Iridescent Diamond.
That said, the Pyrrhic Victory and the Dawn of a New Era that comes with it will make Steven and Peridot’s lives infinitely more complicated and busier as a load of responsibility falls on their shoulders after the events of GA. That greatly limits their time together and will surely test their relationship in the future.
The trope is still going strong in the Post-GA era, as This is Who I Am proves. Beyond the first official couple bickering, narrowly avoiding death by gators, and tension when going through traumatic suppressed memories, Chapter 5 gives the couple a major doozy of a trial. What was originally a Mirror Match between the Dark and Light halves of Steven and Peridot gets the Opponent Switch treatment, leaving Light Steven and Light Peridot fighting the dark sides of each other instead. The counterparts are linked; one can’t live without the other. The two fights occur in different dimensions, so Steven and Peridot can’t help each other. Dark Steven and Dark Peridot are incapable of feeling love, let alone for each other, and are both selfish enough to willingly off their Light opponents if it means they can leave with their lives. So, this situation is rigged so that only Steven or Peridot will come out of this with their life; not both.
Luckily, Peridot inadvertently finds a loophole when she nearly kills herself in an attempt to stop her Dark self from strangling Steven (the Dark Steven she’s facing is also choking to death by proxy); this leaves all four combatants unable to finish the battle, but it was only through sheer luck that Peridot didn’t irreparably damage herself. By the time Steven and Peridot are brought back to normal, both are so traumatized by the experience that they leave taking care of 5XF in the hands of their fusion, Sphalerite, while they take a lengthy recovery.
Then they learn their own fusion took advantage of their inability to function by committing a multitude of lewd acts with 5XF while they recovered. Then after recovery, Steven and Peridot were trapped and unable to defuse for several hours because of this. So, after all the angst that came from Steven and Peridot presumably being incapable of fusing before… they finally manage it, but the second time they fuse brings about something like this. Now they’re terrified of ever fusing again.
Official Kiss: Probably not Steven and Peridot’s first kiss in Chapter 5 of Act I. Honestly, for this trope, an argument can be made either for the Big Damn Kiss they share in the battlefield during Chapter 8 (with Gem Drill references abound during that), or much later in Chapter 5 of Act III where Steven outright says he and Peridot are an Official Couple (and that scene itself is full of gratuitous making out).
One Steve Limit: Averted per canon; multiple Peridots feature to varying degrees in the story, only differentiated by their designated facet and cut both in-universe and the narrative.
You Are Number Six: For convenience, the Peridots only address each other and themselves by their cut, so Hero Protagonist Peridot will always be called “5XG” by her fellow Peridots (and at times refers to herself this way when talking about her pre-Earth life), just as she simply refers to Facet-2F5L Cut-9FC as “9FC”.
Opponent Switch: Inverted: in Chapter 5 of This is Who I Am, 5XF divides Steven and Peridot into two separate individuals; one who represents the best in the pair, and the other who represents the worst. Gypsum reportedly intended this to be a straight Mirror Match of Steven and Peridot fighting their dark counterparts, but a Genre-Savvy 5XF, who was aware of the pair’s Character Development during the primary GA series, insisted on implementing this trope to ensure only one will come out of this trial alive, as the Dark Steven and Peridot have no love for each other and are selfish enough to be willing to off each other to ensure their own survival. Since the Light Steven and Peridot aren’t even remotely willing to harm each other in any way and have no way of helping each other, by design it’s almost guaranteed this will end with one of them dying. It very nearly succeeds; only thwarted when Light Peridot stabs her own gemstone to stop her dark side from choking Light Steven to death (which was also killing Dark Steven second-hand), ultimately leading to a draw as all four combatants are in no condition to fight after this.
Painful Transformation: Steven being forced to awaken as Pink Diamond 2.0 was definitely more painful for him physically, though plenty of emotional/mental torture came with it; his first time getting stuck in the transitional state made him completely lose his mind and act like a rabid wild animal. Peridot ascending to Chartreuse Diamond had more emphasis on the mental pain, though during the process of White Diamond forcing Peridot’s diamond to prematurely grow in order for the ascension to be possible, she damn near shattered Peridot from the physical stress alone, forcing White to go out of her way to ease the pain and stabilize her body so that she wouldn’t accidentally destroy her.
Parental Substitute: Per canon, Pearl and Garnet serve this role for Steven for parental roles that Greg can’t fulfill for whatever reason. Down the line, a similar dynamic forms between Garnet and Peridot (and one can argue Pearl is begrudgingly falling into the role as well); same can be said for Greg and Peridot. Lapis surprisingly has a moment in Chapter 8 of Act II where she and Steven have this sort of dynamic, considering how she goes about harshly reprimanding Steven for trying to steal the spaceship to go back to Homeworld by himself. During Act III, White Diamond attempts to be this for Peridot/Chartreuse and Steven/Pink 2.0, but the latter two harshly defy it.
Party Scattering: The end of Chapter 3 of Act III sees Chartreuse Diamond enforce this trope on the Crystal Gems, as they’re forcibly sucked down into interdimensional holes that transport them into a pocket dimension where they all end up separated and trapped. This is short-lived, however, as Chartreuse’s Heel-Face Turn happens soon after this. In Chapter 4, after reuniting with Steven in his pocket dimension, Chartreuse merges the Crystal Gems’ pocket dimensions (save for Steven’s) into a singular entity and keeps it hidden from White Diamond for their safety.
Passive Rescue: The plan of action for Act I.
Personal Effects Reveal: Several characters learn more about who Peridot is once they watch her prerecorded Video Wills meant specifically for them in Act II.
Pre-Sacrifice Final Goodbye: What Act II centers on from the perspective of the characters per Peridot’s dictation.
Propaganda Machine: The M.O. of the Diamond Authority after their supposed victory wiping of nearly all of Rose Quartz’s rebellion on Earth via corruption; after this, almost all details of the Gem War were kept under wraps. What little information remained available to the general public was heavily altered by the Diamonds themselves. The Era 1 gems on Homeworld directly involved in the war were all forced to adhere to a non-disclosure agreement. Consequently, Era 2 gems like Peridot were fully under the delusion of the propaganda they were fed (and even after Peridot herself was assigned an Earth mission, she was only given bare-bones details of what happened there – and little to none of it was true, given that Peridot was under the impression no gems remained on Earth and had no idea who the Crystal Gems were). Most were completely ignorant of Pink Diamond entirely, and White Diamond herself – while a known figure to the public – was largely a mystery as it was forbidden to even speak of her.
Prophecies Are Always Right: Sapphire’s vision of how/if the Crystal Gems successfully escape Homeworld at the end of Act I ultimately comes to pass despite Peridot’s efforts. This trope is also in play with a prophecy White Diamond reveals much later in Act III. See The Legend of Chekhov for more details.
Pyrrhic Victory: GA concludes with a full-scale revolution and the end of a war that’s persisted for several millennia. Most of Homeworld’s gems are liberated from their oppressive rule, and the Diamond Authority no longer exists. However, with Homeworld itself being destroyed, the Crystal Gems are stuck with the responsibility of thousands, if not millions of Homeworld gems – all of whom have no idea what happened – and teaching them not only how to adapt to living on Earth, but how to comprehend life without being ruled by a Diamond while living freely and independently. Naturally, many gems will probably not take this news in stride and prove to be stubborn at best; rebellious and hostile at worst. There’s the matter that there are far too many gems to keep all in one place, ensuring no humans are endangered by the refugees in their confusion, and that the sheer numbers advantage the refugees inherently have over the Crystal Gems doesn’t become an issue. There are also Homeworld colonies that are likely to collapse unless the Crystal Gems help, but there are similar (if not greater) risks to consider before getting involved. Peridot and Steven, despite having no desire to do so, have to be the centerpieces of this new era. There’s a load of long-term work ahead for every hero, and there are risks they’re forced to take every step of the way. No one’s resting easy anytime soon.
#gem ascension#ga references#steven universe#su fanfic#su fanfiction#stevidot#peridot#su peridot#garnet#su garnet#amethyst#su amethyst#pearl#su pearl#lapis lazuli#su lapis#bismuth#su bismuth#greg universe#connie maheswaran#su lion#su pumpkin#white diamond#pink diamond#blue diamond#yellow diamond#yellow pearl#jasper#white pearl#steven universe ocs
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hi :) what is your favorite book/movie?
Hi lovely :)
Apologies this has taken me so long to get to! (my notifications don't always, well, notify me)
Favorite book/movie... ohhhh dear. That is quite an ask, as I consume quite a l o t of media in my downtime (because ya know, escapism haha)
I'll say the first however many that come to my mind at random, in no particular order...(throwing this under a read more should this go on and on and also for those who don’t care🙃)
Films
Everything Everywhere All at Once (current new favorite; 10/10 highly recommend!!!)
Thg films (for all of their flaws comparing them to the books, I still love them)
A Nightmare on Elm Street 3: Dream Warriors
Hackers
Clue
Fight Club
Parasite
The 'Burbs
The X-Files Fight the Future
Half Baked
Labyrinth
V for Vendetta
Goodfellas
Moon
Ghost World
28 Days Later
Amelie
American Psycho
Reality Bites
Singles
Mallrats
Swingers
A Bronx Tale
Snowpiercer
Practical Magic
Evil Dead 2
Moulin Rouge
Spirited Away
You've got mail
Blade Runner
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
Office Space
Idiocracy
The Big Lebowski
The Harry Potter Series
Se7en
Beetlejuice
Hocus Pocus
Heathers
Oh boy, yeah, I listed quite a bit - see what I mean???? I just can’t stop once I get going 🙈 I should have worked at Blockbuster video (R.I.P)
Books
I’ll just throw in the first couple that come to mind so this doesn’t go on and on :)))
The Hunger Games series by Queen Suzanne Collins
In the Woods by Tana French
Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
White Oleander by Janet Fitch
The Losers’ Club by Richard Perez
The Perks of being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky
The Harry Potter series by Jk Rowling
A Series of Unfortunate Events by Daniel Handler
Okay I have to stop haha. Thanks for the ask!!! Again, sorry it took so long to respond. If you want, feel free to let me know your faves too! :) Hope you have a great day!
#starfire-poems#ask#about me#asking me about my favorite movie/book is never ever going to be 1 or 2 - i'm just broken that way haha i'm so sorry
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Hemingway: From Idea To The Plate.
As promised folks, I am back at Hemingway restaurant, Plovdiv to follow up on the menu upgrade. Couple of months ago, my friends and I visited the place and enjoyed the aroma of delicious food and freshly baked bread! And as you, probably, remember the chef dropped a hint that in a few weeks' time, he will be coming up with a gourmet add-ons that will bring the menu to the next level.
So, here we are meeting up with Pencho Yonchev, the soft-spoken executive chef of this fantastic restaurant, who has one goal: ‘I wanted to upgrade the well-known dishes just, so I can take customers on a complex and tasteful journey.’
That entails the Burrata salad - fresh brine cheese stuffed with a white truffle, arugula salad mixed with fresh chunks of regular and cherry tomatoes. The truffle scent and taste are strong, so for those not used to the flavour, this salad is the perfect choice. The fresh ‘white’ cheese and the vegetables brilliantly complement the truffles’ slightly garlicky musky flavour and aroma. Incredibly simple, and yet remembering!
The head chef is extremely strict in terms of the products’ quality. Everything arrives fresh and it is locally made. ‘The quality of our ingredients is our top priority’, chef Yonchev says. The restaurant highlights the fact that each component used for the preparation of the dishes is provided by the local market: butchers, farmers, fishermen, and various smallholders.
Head chef Yonchev really likes the quote: ‘Think globally, act locally’ as it is important to recognise that each market is unique, and this is why it is good to use what is in ‘your backyard’. It is a win-win practice. The customers enjoy fresh food, the local businesses sustain their revenue, thus everyone contributes to their community and helps protect local space that is part of the larger planet.
'What is your cooking inspiration?'- I asked. 'I wanted to keep common ingredients, but elevate the complexity of the dish by using different techniques… And people like them!', head chef says.
Look at the Beef Croquettes. Classic dish, modern twist. The slow cooked beef brisket is seasoned with salsa verde, beetroot and horseradish sauce. Perfectly shaped crispy balls, evenly placed on the plate. Aesthetically presented with a dash of dressing. The appetizer makes you drool just by looking at it. And when you try it …OMG, just a single bite is enough to acknowledge the richness of their flavour.
What's the head chef's favourite dish on the menu? Hm…Though one.
It was challenging for chef Yonchev to pick a single specialty as he loves them all, but he pointed the Glazed Veal Tongue. The veal is served with carrot and sweet potato puree; mini arancini (consisting of a ball of rice coated with bread crumbs and then deep fried - a staple in the Sicilian cuisine) stuffed with porcini mushrooms; marinated French shallot, and finally a caper sauce. The tongue was cooked perfectly, the glaze on top of it elevated its tart-ish and typical earthy taste. The caper sauce brought its tangy, briney, and somewhat lemony savouriness, the perfect dish flavour booster.
What's next on the menu? The head chef is determined to create a four-season carte, so the clients can enjoy the crème de la crème of high quality local food. Seems like creativity is what drives our spirit to excel in many ways!
Bon Appétit, foodies!
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SANSA STARK: A WOLF WITH DRAGON WINGS
I. AN INTRODUCTION
This is an extract from what George RR Martin wrote regarding what happened to Sansa in the sixth episode of the fifth season of Game of Thrones:
How many children did Scarlett O'Hara have? Three, in the novel. One, in the movie. None, in real life: she was a fictional character, she never existed. The show is the show, the books are the books; two different tellings of the same story.
There have been differences between the novels and the television show since the first episode of season one. And for just as long, I have been talking about the butterfly effect. Small changes lead to larger changes lead to huge changes. HBO is more than forty hours into the impossible and demanding task of adapting my lengthy (extremely) and complex (exceedingly) novels, with their layers of plots and subplots, their twists and contradictions and unreliable narrators, viewpoint shifts and ambiguities, and a cast of characters in the hundreds.
There has seldom been any TV series as faithful to its source material, by and large (if you doubt that, talk to the Harry Dresden fans, or readers of the Sookie Stackhouse novels, or the fans of the original WALKING DEAD comic books)… but the longer the show goes on, the bigger the butterflies become. And now we have reached the point where the beat of butterfly wings is stirring up storms, like the one presently engulfing my email.
Prose and television have different strengths, different weaknesses, different requirements.
David and Dan and Bryan and HBO are trying to make the best television series that they can.
And over here I am trying to write the best novels that I can.
And yes, more and more, they differ. Two roads diverging in the dark of the woods, I suppose… but all of us are still intending that at the end we will arrive at the same place.
In the meantime, we hope that the readers and viewers both enjoy the journey. Or journeys, as the case may be. Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons.
Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons.
Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons.
SOMETIMES BUTTERFLIES GROW INTO DRAGONS.
That line really stuck in my mind. Because, beyond its literal meaning within the text, it is so beautiful and powerful, and gives me so much hope about Sansa’s future, because, indeed, she is a butterfly that could grow into a dragon.
Just look at what I found about Sansa’s butterfly symbolism:
[…] when Sansa’s dragonfly, wings, and butterfly symbolisms are born. Game of Thrones embroidery and animal motifs, especially with the female characters, employ subtle clues to the characters’ narrative evolutions. Sansa’s “spirit animal” motif is applied to her costume over and over as her character and story develop.
There are many theories about the Stark girl’s flighty, winged creature crest, from Sansa’s moth ring to her embellished gowns. Cersei calls her “little dove,” and winged creatures are traditionally symbols of beauty and fragility. However, I feel that Sansa and her symbolism are far more complex than this. Moths, dragonflies, and butterflies are metamorphic creatures that, despite their visually flimsy allure and delicate nature, evolve and grow as they shift and change. I feel like they are a very apt metaphor for Sansa Stark, who, through her pain due to her fragile place in society as a woman, is never broken entirely. She only evolves and grows as she shifts and changes through self realization.
It is also discussed that the story of The Prince of Dragonflies — a Targaryen prince who gave up the throne to be with his love — influenced Michele Carragher’s choice for Sansa’s personal emblem. Sansa’s obsession with courtly love, which is dashed time and time again, is mirrored in this tragic tale.
—Sansa Stark’s Fashion Evolution Through ‘Game Of Thrones’ And How Her Wardrobe Mirrors Her Character
After reading that article I started doing research for references about Sansa & dragonfly symbolism and/or Sansa & the Prince of Dragonflies in the books. And I ended up writing this long long post about it, where you can find a lot of Sansa Stark and Jon Snow connections and parallels.
So, since I already wrote about Sansa and dragonflies, now it is time for me to write about dragons, about Sansa and dragons.
II. DIFFERENT ROADS SOMETIMES LEAD TO THE SAME CASTLE
YES, I know that when George said “Sometimes butterflies grow into dragons”, he was talking about the changes the Show decided to make in Sansa’s story. While in the Books she is in the Vale in the guise of Alayne Stone, eating lemony lemony lemon cakes and trying to charm, entice and bewitch Harry the Arse the Heir, the Show put her in the place of Jeyne Poole or Fake Arya. So Sansa ended up being repeatedly beaten, raped and tortured by Ramsay Bolton in her own home. HER OWN HOME! A place she yearns for; a place where she finds courage and strength within its walls. Again, I will always hate D&D for what they did to Sansa... BUT, as George himself said: “Two roads diverging in the dark of the woods, I suppose… but all of us are still intending that at the end we will arrive at the same place”. So that makes me think that in the Books, Sansa and Jon, against all odds, will meet again.
[x]
And I will give you more reasons why I think that:
“Two roads diverging in the dark of the woods, I suppose… but all of us are still intending that at the end we will arrive at the same place”. Where do I read that before? Oh yes, in the Books:
Jon messed up her hair. "I will miss you, little sister."
Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. "I wish you were coming with us."
"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?" He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. "I better go. I'll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer."
Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.
—A Game of Thrones - Jon II
I know that this dialogue is between Jon and Arya and it shows the endearing love they have for each other; but believe me, every time I read that last conversation between them, the way Sansa is so very present during that exchange of words always amazes me:
I have something for you to take with you, and it has to be packed very carefully.
"Her face lit up. "A present?"
"You could call it that. Close the door."
Wary but excited, Arya checked the hall. "Nymeria, here. Guard." She left the wolf out there to warn of intruders and closed the door. By then Jon had pulled off the rags he'd wrapped it in. He held it out to her.
Arya's eyes went wide. Dark eyes, like his. "A sword," she said in a small, hushed breath.
The scabbard was soft grey leather, supple as sin. Jon drew out the blade slowly, so she could see the deep blue sheen of the steel. "This is no toy," he told her. "Be careful you don't cut yourself. The edges are sharp enough to shave with."
"Girls don't shave," Arya said.
"Maybe they should. Have you ever seen the septa's legs?"
She giggled at him. "It's so skinny."
"So are you," Jon told her. "I had Mikken make this special. The bravos use swords like this in Pentos and Myr and the other Free Cities. It won't hack a man's head off, but it can poke him full of holes if you're fast enough."
"I can be fast," Arya said.
"You'll have to work at it every day." He put the sword in her hands, showed her how to hold it, and stepped back. "How does it feel? Do you like the balance?"
"I think so," Arya said.
"First lesson," Jon said. "Stick them with the pointy end."
Arya gave him a whap on the arm with the flat of her blade. The blow stung, but Jon found himself grinning like an idiot. "I know which end to use," Arya said. A doubtful look crossed her face. "Septa Mordane will take it away from me."
"Not if she doesn't know you have it," Jon said.
"Who will I practice with?"
"You'll find someone," Jon promised her. "King's Landing is a true city, a thousand times the size of Winterfell. Until you find a partner, watch how they fight in the yard. Run, and ride, make yourself strong. And whatever you do …"
Arya knew what was coming next. They said it together.
"… don't … tell … Sansa!"
Jon messed up her hair. "I will miss you, little sister."
Suddenly she looked like she was going to cry. "I wish you were coming with us."
"Different roads sometimes lead to the same castle. Who knows?" He was feeling better now. He was not going to let himself be sad. "I better go. I'll spend my first year on the Wall emptying chamber pots if I keep Uncle Ben waiting any longer."
Arya ran to him for a last hug. "Put down the sword first," Jon warned her, laughing. She set it aside almost shyly and showered him with kisses.
When he turned back at the door, she was holding it again, trying it for balance. "I almost forgot," he told her. "All the best swords have names."
"Like Ice," she said. She looked at the blade in her hand. "Does this have a name? Oh, tell me."
"Can't you guess?" Jon teased. "Your very favorite thing."
Arya seemed puzzled at first. Then it came to her. She was that quick. They said it together:
"Needle!"
The memory of her laughter warmed him on the long ride north.
—A Game of Thrones - Jon II
See? Arya named the sword Jon gave her “Needle”. Jon thought about the same name for the sword, even before he gave it to Arya. And all that was because Sansa was extremely good at embroidering and Arya wasn't. I believe that if Sansa hadn’t been so good at it and if Septa Mordane hadn’t always compared Arya's stitches to her sister's exquisite ones, needles wouldn’t have been so relevant to Arya.
So, it is very obvious that when Jon said that “different roads sometimes lead to the same castle”, he was hoping to see Arya again, the same way Sansa waited, wished and prayed for Robb to come rescue her from the Lannisters, during her time in King’s Landing after Ned’s death. And since George has used the same phrase while commenting the decision of the Show to put Sansa in the north playing the role of Jeyne Poole as Fake Arya, I believe that this is the reason for the change of Sansa’s storyline from the Books; so she could run to the Wall in order to reach Jon for help and shelter. I mean, I believe that in the Books, Sansa and Jon will be the first Starks to meet and be together again. I believe that Sansa will be the girl in grey on a dying horse of Melisandre’s vision:
Surprise made him recoil from her. "Lady Melisandre." He took a step backwards. "I mistook you for someone else." At night all robes are grey. Yet suddenly hers were red. He did not understand how he could have taken her for Ygritte. She was taller, thinner, older, though the moonlight washed years from her face. Mist rose from her nostrils, and from pale hands naked to the night. "You will freeze your fingers off," Jon warned. "If that is the will of R'hllor. Night's powers cannot touch one whose heart is bathed in god's holy fire."
"You heart does not concern me. Just your hands."
"The heart is all that matters. Do not despair, Lord Snow. Despair is a weapon of the enemy, whose name may not be spoken. Your sister is not lost to you."
"I have no sister." The words were knives. What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister?
Melisandre seemed amused. "What is her name, this little sister that you do not have?"
"Arya." His voice was hoarse. "My half-sister, truly …"
"… for you are bastard born. I had not forgotten. I have seen your sister in my fires, fleeing from this marriage they have made for her. Coming here, to you. A girl in grey on a dying horse, I have seen it plain as day. It has not happened yet, but it will."
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VI
Meanwhile in The Vale:
There’s a new High Septon, did you know? Oh, and the Night's Watch has a boy commander, some bastard son of Eddard Stark’s.”
"Jon Snow?” she blurted out, surprised.
“Snow? Yes, it would be Snow, I suppose.”
She had not thought of Jon in ages. He was only her half brother, but still… with Robb and Bran and Rickon dead, Jon Snow was the only brother that remained to her. I am a bastard too now, just like him. Oh, it would be so sweet, to see him once again. But of course that could never be. Alayne Stone had no brothers, baseborn or otherwise.
—A Feast for Crows - Alayne II
So, we have Sansa in the south (which was nothing like she imagined it to be) waiting for Robb, her big brother, the trueborn, the Heir to Winterfell. And he never comes for her. When Sansa hears the news of his demise, she believes she has lost all her brothers, until she hears of her half brother Jon Snow. But she’s not a Stark by then, just a bastard girl in the Vale, who has no brothers, trueborn or otherwise.
On the other hand, we have Jon in the north, who has taken a vow to serve for life in the Night’s Watch (which was nothing like he imagined it to be), missing Arya, his beloved sister, madly. He even decided to forsake his oaths for her, which in turn caused his betrayal and stabbing by his brothers. And yet, it was all for naught, because, unbeknownst to him, the little sister he yearned for wasn’t even close to the Wall. Oh the irony...
If one believes in dramatic irony, it is that thoughtlessness in regards to each other (and possibly Sansa’s anvilicious “that could never be” when thinking about seeing [Jon] again) that gives them the best chances of being the first (if not only) Starks to reunite.
—blindestspot
YES, as Jon Snow is the silent, unknown and unthought answer to Sansa’s hopes. I think Sansa will be the half sister cousin he will meet again, because as Jon said himself: “different roads sometimes lead to the same castle”.
III. GOLDEN DRAGONS
As prosaic as it sounds, I’m going to talk about money. Golden dragons are the most valuable coins in Westeros.
Golden dragons are more frequently used by rich merchants and noble lords and ladies. Smallfolk, who do not have such riches, tend to exchange copper and silver coins, or turn to trade. The minting of the coins, exchange rates, and like matters are overseen by the master of coin.
The king's coinage is one of the most visible manifestations of royal authority. Golden dragons bear the face of the king in whose time they were minted in, as well as his name. On the other side, the golden dragon bear the three-headed Targaryen dragon. [x]
In the Books, the first time that Sansa is mentioned in relation to Dragons was when Queen Cersei offered a reward of a hundred golden dragons for Nymeria’s skin, after the direwolf bit Joffrey’s arm.
Nymeria accompanies Arya south on the journey to King's Landing. When Joffrey Baratheon and Sansa stumble upon Arya playing at swords with her friend Mycah by the Trident, Joffrey challenges Mycah to a duel, and cuts Mycah in the process. Joffrey refuses to relent which leads Arya to hit him with her stick. Joffrey attacks Arya with his sword, and Nymeria lunges at Joffrey and bites him. After letting him go, Arya and Nymeria flee. Fearing for Nymeria's life, Arya and Jory are forced to chase her away. [x]
Because Arya Stark's direwolf, Nymeria, attacks Prince Joffrey Baratheon along the banks of the Trident, Nymeria is ordered to be killed but she cannot be found. At Darry, the spiteful Queen Cersei Lannister orders Lady to be put down instead. In spite of Sansa's protests, her father Eddard Stark performs the execution himself, as is his custom and to spare Lady pain she might suffer if the royal executioner Ilyn Payne performs the deed. The trusting Lady does not sense Eddard's intention and is killed with a single blow of his greatsword, Ice. Eddard orders her body to be brought north and be buried in Winterfell. [x]
The passage in AGOT where Queen Cersei offers a sum of golden dragons for Nymeria’s skin is the following:
Robert started to walk away, but the queen was not done. “And what of the direwolf?” she called after him. “What of the beast that savaged your son?
"The king stopped, turned back, frowned. "I’d forgotten about the damned wolf." Ned could see Arya tense in Jory’s arms. Jory spoke up quickly. "We found no trace of the direwolf, Your Grace."
Robert did not look unhappy. "No? So be it.”
"The queen raised her voice. "A hundred golden dragons to the man who brings me its skin!”
“A costly pelt,” Robert grumbled. “I want no part of this, woman. You can damn well buy your furs with Lannister gold.”
The queen regarded him coolly. "I had not thought you so niggardly. The king I'd thought to wed would have laid a wolfskin across my bed before the sun went down."
Robert's face darkened with anger. "That would be a fine trick, without a wolf."
"We have a wolf," Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet, but her green eyes shone with triumph.
It took them all a moment to comprehend her words, but when they did, the king shrugged irritably. "As you will. Have Ser Ilyn see to it."
"Robert, you cannot mean this," Ned protested.
The king was in no mood for more argument. "Enough, Ned, I will hear no more. A direwolf is a savage beast. Sooner or later it would have turned on your girl the same way the other did on my son. Get her a dog, she'll be happier for it."
That was when Sansa finally seemed to comprehend. Her eyes were frightened as they went to her father. "He doesn't mean Lady, does he?" She saw the truth on his face. "No," she said. "No, not Lady, Lady didn't bite anybody, she's good …"
"Lady wasn't there," Arya shouted angrily. "You leave her alone!"
"Stop them," Sansa pleaded, "don't let them do it, please, please, it wasn't Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can't, it wasn't Lady, don't let them hurt Lady, I'll make her be good, I promise, I promise …" She started to cry.
All Ned could do was take her in his arms and hold her while she wept. He looked across the room at Robert. His old friend, closer than any brother. "Please, Robert. For the love you bear me. For the love you bore my sister. Please."
The king looked at them for a long moment, then turned his eyes on his wife. "Damn you, Cersei," he said with loathing.
Ned stood, gently disengaging himself from Sansa's grasp. All the weariness of the past four days had returned to him. "Do it yourself then, Robert," he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. "At least have the courage to do it yourself."
Robert looked at Ned with flat, dead eyes and left without a word, his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence filled the hall.
"Where is the direwolf?" Cersei Lannister asked when her husband was gone. Beside her, Prince Joffrey was smiling.
"The beast is chained up outside the gatehouse, Your Grace," Ser Barristan Selmy answered reluctantly.
"Send for Ilyn Payne."
"No," Ned said. "Jory, take the girls back to their rooms and bring me Ice." The words tasted of bile in his throat, but he forced them out. "If it must be done, I will do it."
Cersei Lannister regarded him suspiciously. "You, Stark? Is this some trick? Why would you do such a thing?"
They were all staring at him, but it was Sansa's look that cut. "She is of the north. She deserves better than a butcher."
He left the room with his eyes burning and his daughter's wails echoing in his ears, and found the direwolf pup where they chained her. Ned sat beside her for a while. "Lady," he said, tasting the name. He had never paid much attention to the names the children had picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosen well. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur.
Shortly, Jory brought him Ice.
When it was over, he said, "Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell.”
“All that way?” Jory said, astonished.
“All that way,” Ned affirmed. “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”
—A Game of Thrones - Eddard III
I have quoted the entire passage due to its instances of symbolic foreshadowing, which are very important in the support of the ideas I wish to expound in this post. Let’s see:
In the end Queen Cersei didn’t have to pay the hundred golden dragons she offered for Nymeria’s skin, because she turned her vengeance against Lady. And Sansa’s direwolf, despite her innocence, died to placate Cersei’s and Joffrey’s wrath.
But I want to point out the reward Queen Cersei offered. She is a Lannister. House Lannister is very rich. Their unofficial motto is “A Lannister always pays his debts”, so the wealth of her house allows her to offer a huge amount of money for just a pelt; “A costly pelt” as King Robert said.
So, although not directly, this event is only the first time rich and powerful people offer golden dragons as a reward for Sansa Stark:
“Lord Petyr,” Dontos called from the boat. “I must needs row back, before they think to look for me.
"Petyr Baelish put a hand on the rail. "But first you’ll want your payment. Ten thousand dragons, was it?”
“Ten thousand.” Dontos rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. “As you promised, my lord.”
"Ser Lothor, the reward."
Lothor Brune dipped his torch. Three men stepped to the gunwale, raised crossbows, fired. One bolt took Dontos in the chest as he looked up, punching through the left crown on his surcoat. The others ripped into throat and belly. It happened so quickly neither Dontos nor Sansa had time to cry out. When it was done, Lothor Brune tossed the torch down on top of the corpse. The little boat was blazing fiercely as the galley moved away.
"You killed him." Clutching the rail, Sansa turned away and retched. Had she escaped the Lannisters to tumble into worse?
"My lady," Littlefinger murmured, "your grief is wasted on such a man as that. He was a sot, and no man's friend."
“But he saved me.”
“He sold you for a promise of ten thousand dragons. Your disappearance will make them suspect you in Joffrey’s death. The gold cloaks will hunt, and the eunuch will jingle his purse. Dontos … well, you heard him. He sold you for gold, and when he’d drunk it up he would have sold you again. A bag of dragons buys a man’s silence for a while, but a well-placed quarrel buys it forever.” He smiled sadly. “All he did he did at my behest. I dared not befriend you openly. When I heard how you saved his life at Joff’s tourney, I knew he would be the perfect catspaw.
"Sansa felt sick. "He said he was my Florian.”
—A Storm of Swords - Sansa V
The direwolf of every Stark child is a part of them, so just as Nymeria’s skin was “A costly pelt”, Sansa Stark herself was “A costly hostage” that became “A costly fugitive” valued in Lannister gold:
“That’s too soon. You have me shut up here under guard, how am I to find witnesses to my innocence?”
“Your sister’s had no difficulty finding witnesses to your guilt.” Ser Kevan rolled up the parchment. “Ser Addam has men hunting for your wife. Varys has offered a hundred stags for word of her whereabouts, and a hundred dragons for the girl herself. If the girl can be found she will be found, and I shall bring her to you. I see no harm in husband and wife sharing the same cell and giving comfort to one another.”
—A Storm of Swords - Tyrion IX
Woman was marginally better than wench, she supposed. “You and good Ser Creighton have much in common, then.
"Ser Shadrich laughed. "Oh, I doubt that, but it may be that you and I share a quest. A little lost sister, is it? With blue eyes and auburn hair?” He laughed again. “You are not the only hunter in the woods. I seek for Sansa Stark as well.
"Brienne kept her face a mask, to hide her dismay. "Who is this Sansa Stark, and why do you seek her?”
“For love, why else?”
She furrowed her brow. “Love?"
"Aye, love of gold. Unlike your good Ser Creighton, I did fight upon the Blackwater, but on the losing side. My ransom ruined me. You know who Varys is, I trust? The eunuch has offered a plump bag of gold for this girl you’ve never heard of. I am not a greedy man. If some oversized wench would help me find this naughty child, I would split the Spider’s coin with her.”
—A Feast for Crows - Brienne I
“Perhaps you will try the melee instead?” Alayne suggested. The melee was an afterthought, a sop for all the brothers, uncles, fathers, and friends who had accompanied the competitors to the Gates of the Moon to see them win their silver wings, but there would be prizes for the champions, and a chance to win ransoms.
“A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that’s not likely, is it?” “I suppose not. But now you must excuse us, ser, we need to find my lord father.”
—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I
Even the honorable Brienne of Tarth used Lannister gold given by Jaime Lannister during her quest to find “her sister”, a certain beautiful highborn maid of three-and-ten that has blue eyes and auburn hair:
“Where?” Brienne slapped another silver stag down.
He flicked the coin back at her with his forefinger. “Someplace no stag ever found … though a dragon might.” Silver would not get the truth from him, she sensed. Gold might, or it might not. Steel would be more certain. Brienne touched her dagger, then reached into her purse instead. She found a golden dragon and put in on the barrel. “Where?”
(...)
“No, but I can take you to one.” The coin danced one way, and back the other.
“Take you to the Whispers, m'lady.
"Brienne did not like the way his fingers played with that gold coin. Still … "Six dragons if we find my sister. Two if we only find the fool. Nothing if nothing is what we find.
"Crabb shrugged. "Six is good. Six will serve.”
—A Feast for Crows - Brienne III
From this last quote I want to rescue this line: “Someplace no stag ever found… though a dragon might.” This words are talking about stags and dragons, not silver and gold, just the animals that the coins bare on one side. The stag is the sigil of House Baratheon and the dragon is the sigil of House Targaryen. And this makes me think about the Tourney at Ashford Meadow, where the first and the fifth of its final champions belonged to these houses. And according to this theory: “When you look at the names of the champions' families and the fact they fight for a 13 year old maid, especially with the family Hardyng, we find out that they correspond strongly with Sansa's suitors in A Song of Ice and Fire.”
So, following the pattern established by the five final champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow, I believe that the stag in this line represents Joffrey Baratheon (Sansa's first betrothed), while the Dragon who might find Sansa is Jon Snow, the Targaryen Champion (Sansa’s actual betrothed).This last idea is going to be developed throughout this post.
Now, back to Lady’s death. We know that this event is a turning point in Sansa’s arc, but other than that, the paragraphs leading to the direwolf’s execution are laden with symbolism and foreshadowing, not only for Sansa, but for Ned as well.
During the “trial”, Ned decides that he will take Lady’s life himself, in order to avoid having a butcher like Ilyn Payne do the execution. Then, before he struck, he pronounced her name in the same fashion Robb and Jon called the name of their direwolves before they both died. This for me foreshadows Ned’s own death. Also, before Lady’s death, Ned pleads King Robert to change his decision on putting down the direwolf, appealing to the memory of Lyanna, the woman Robert loved. Similarly, before Ned’s execution at the steps of the Sept of Baelor, Sansa pleads King Joffrey to spare her father’s life, appealing to the love he has for her. As we know, both pleas fell on deaf ears and both Lady and Ned lost their lives; bringing the story full circle, as Ilyn Payne himself cut off Ned’s head.
Another interesting thing is that before Lady’s death we have direct and indirect references to Lyanna Stark. We have the direct reference when Ned appealed to the love Robert Baratheon bore Lyanna, in order to save Lady’s life, and the indirect one when he ordered Jory to choose four men to return Lady’s body to the north, to bury her in Winterfell. This order Ned gave to his men alludes to his own decision to take Lyanna’s body to Winterfell to be buried in the crypts, after her demise, brought on by her doomed love affair with Rhaegar Targaryen. Again, here we have the two extremes of the pattern stablished by the final champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow: the beginning (the stag) and the end (the dragon) of Sansa’s possible romantic cycle. History repeats itself all the time in this universe, and with luck, certain twists could change the final outcome.
There are plenty more parallels between Lyanna, Sansa and at least one other lady before them, whose story included a Baratheon betrothed and a Targaryen Prince, and although this post is not the place to discuss them, just think about Duncan Targaryen, his betrothed Baratheon and Jenny of Oldstones, a story extremely similar to the one of Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark and her betrothed Robert Baratheon: A Targaryen prince breaking an engagement with a member of House Baratheon that then originates a rebellion.
Now think of this: Sansa was betrothed to Joffrey “Baratheon” and the engagement was broken in the middle of war with the north, sparked by Ned’s death. Robb Stark called the banners against King Joffrey in rebellion, while Jon almost broke his vows to join Robb’s army. What drove them to that point? The need to avenge Ned’s death and the at the same time rescue their sisters. All of which makes me think about these parallels: Sansa being a hostage in King’s Landing/Lyanna’s “abduction”, Ned’s death/Rickard’s death, Robb’s death/Brandon’s death. And that leaves Jon Snow to possibly play the role of Ned Stark in the future.
As I said, history repeats itself all the time in this universe, and with luck, certain twists could change the final result. And I believe Sansa has a chance of change the many preceding sad patterns reflected in her story and she will compose her lucky song along with the help of Jon Snow.
Talking about luck and change in history, since Lady was part of Sansa, and her body, pelt and bones, now rest in Winterfell, just like Lyanna’s corpse, I believe Sansa is destined to return to the north as well. But unlike Lyanna and Lady, Sansa will return to the north alive (to meet Jon Snow) and she will make her life safe and happy within the walls of the ancestral seat of her family. And as Ned himself said: "She is of the north. She deserves better than a butcher." And we all know that Sansa already had enough butchers in her short life: [Part 1] [Part 2].
Again, since Lady was part of Sansa, and Cersei never got her skin; I believe Cersei will never put her hands on Sansa again, no matter the amount of golden dragons she offers as a reward for her. Because as Ned said “The Lannister woman shall never have this skin.”
The moral of the fable here is that “Not all that glitters is gold”. Sansa fell blindly in love with the fake glitter of Joffrey and Cersei, the south and King’s Landing. And from the golden lions, the Queen and the Prince, she only received pain. They took Lady and Ned away from her. They treated her as a possession, as a prize, they valued her in golden dragons. And the south and King’s Landing only gave Sansa false friends and sadly, a long list of butchers instead of gallant true knights... AND SHE DESERVES BETTER!
While Sansa is in the south, we witness her objectification numerous times, by every character she interacts with. She’s not only being valued in golden dragons, she has been practically transformed into a stone castle, Winterfell, and the north itself, since the one controlling her would obtain all her lands and power. Or, to use the euphemism used in the Books, she is “the key to the north.”
Sansa reflects about this objectification in the Books and articulates inside her mind one of the saddest lines in ASOIAF, especially for a girl who yearns to be loved and always dreamed of getting married: “No one will ever marry me for love” (because everyone only wants her claim to Winterfell). But instead of Tyrion, Willas or even Robert, who pursue Sansa’s claim over her, unbeknownst to her, faraway, at the other part of the world, there is a man who has been offered Winterfell and choose her over it: “By right Winterfell should go to my sister Sansa.” “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa.” Among all the high lords interested in becoming the Lord of Winterfell by marrying Sansa Stark, the bastard Jon Snow refused to despoil his sister Sansa of her rights, even if her claim is the one thing he has wanted as much as he had ever wanted anything.
Sansa had to learn that “Not all that glitters is gold” in the cruelest of ways, by the harshest of teachers. Her innocence was taken away from her, but her wits and intuition got sharper and now she knows better.
The pale sunlight flashed off the golds and reds every time Joff moved. Bright, shining, and empty, Sansa thought.
—A Clash of Kings - Sansa V
Ser Harrold Hardyng looked every inch a lord-in-waiting; clean-limbed and handsome, straight as a lance, hard with muscle. Men old enough to have known Jon Arryn in his youth said Ser Harrold had his look, she knew. He had a mop of sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, an aquiline nose. Joffrey was comely too, though, she reminded herself. A comely monster, that’s what he was. Little Lord Tyrion was kinder, twisted though he was.
—The Winds of Winter - Alayne I
As we can see, the external beauty of golden and gallant knights does not so easily impress Sansa anymore. After all, according to her previous experiences they are empty and hollow, despite appearing shiny and bright.
But there is hope for her to find a brave and gentle and strong man, someone who embodies all the qualities of a true knight, anointed or not; something that she always wanted but in a different way. She is done for good with golden knights, but what about a Black Knight, a Dragonknight?
They were inside a long gallery. Along the walls stood empty suits of armor, dark and dusty, their helms crested with rows of scales that continued down their backs. As they hurried past, the taper’s light made the shadows of each scale stretch and twist. The hollow knights are turning into dragons, she thought.
—A Storm of Swords - Sansa V
‘Hollow knights turning into dragons’ make me thing about a change in Sansa’s taste in men, but maybe not a change to something new, but a change back to her first instincts regarding men. After all, this line is from the day she left King’s Landing, the day she started her journey back to the north, her journey back home. So there is hope, because a dragon is waiting for her in the north.
IV. THE WAY NORTH
If Lady’s death wasn’t enough to open Sansa’s eyes and see the true nature of Cersei and Joffrey, Ned’s death certainly was:
"I don't want to marry you," Sansa wailed. "You chopped off my father's head!"
"He was a traitor. I never promised to spare him, only that I'd be merciful, and I was. If he hadn't been your father, I would have had him torn or flayed, but I gave him a clean death."
Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. "I hate you," she whispered.
King Joffrey's face hardened. "My mother tells me that it isn't fitting that a king should strike his wife. Ser Meryn."
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI
Once she had loved Prince Joffrey with all her heart, and admired and trusted his mother, the queen. They had repaid that love and trust with her father's head. Sansa would never make that mistake again.
—A Clash of Kings - Sansa I
It is truly very interesting how Sansa’s first true impression of Joffrey is almost identical to Jon’s first impression of the crown prince. They even commented on Joffrey’s lips and eyes in the same manner:
Prince Joffrey had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.
—A Game of Thrones - Jon I
This ‘coincidence’ of impressions regarding Joffrey, makes me think that in the future, when Sansa and Jon meet again, for the first time, they would see the world through the same eyes. Sansa would even know by then what it means to be a bastard, thanks to her time as Alayne Stone.
Sadly, Ned’s death was the catalyst for Sansa to finally open her eyes to reality, but that event also awakened her inner ‘Starkness’, because if any of the Stark children is the epitome of endurance, that is Sansa. So, after Ned’s death, we see Sansa always finding her strength and courage in the memories of Winterfell and her family, yearning to go back to the north; back home:
The hot water made her think of Winterfell, and she took strength from that. She had not washed since the day her father died, and she was startled at how filthy the water became. Her maids sluiced the blood off her face, scrubbed the dirt from her back, washed her hair and brushed it out until it sprang back in thick auburn curls. Sansa did not speak to them, except to give them commands; they were Lannister servants, not her own, and she did not trust them.
— A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI
And to the north …
She turned that way, and saw only the city, streets and alleys and hills and bottoms and more streets and more alleys and the stone of distant walls. Yet she knew that beyond them was open country, farms and fields and forests, and beyond that, north and north and north again, stood Winterfell.
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI
"Loyal," the dwarf mused, "and far from any Lannisters. I can scarce blame you for that. When I was your age, I wanted the same thing." He smiled. "They tell me you visit the godswood every day. What do you pray for, Sansa?"
I pray for Robb's victory and Joffrey's death... and for home. For Winterfell. "I pray for an end to the fighting."
—A Clash of Kings - Sansa III
Sansa tried to run, but Cersei’s handmaid caught her before she’d gone a yard. Ser Meryn Trant gave her a look that made her cringe, but Kettleblack touched her almost gently and said, “Do as you’re told, sweetling, it won’t be so bad. Wolves are supposed to be brave, aren’t they?
“Brave. Sansa took a deep breath. I am a Stark, yes, I can be brave.
—A Storm of Swords - Sansa III
That was such a sweet dream, Sansa thought drowsily. She had been back in Winterfell, running through the godswood with her Lady. Her father had been there, and her brothers, all of them warm and safe. If only dreaming could make it so . . .
She threw back the coverlets. I must be brave. Her torments would soon be ended, one way or the other. If Lady was here, I would not be afraid. Lady was dead, though; Robb, Bran, Rickon, Arya, her father, her mother, even Septa Mordane. All of them are dead but me. She was alone in the world now.
—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV
Sansa was tempted to beg off. I could tell him that my tummy was upset, or that my moon’s blood had come. She wanted nothing more than to crawl back in bed and pull the drapes. I must be brave, like Robb, she told herself, as she took her lord husband stiffly by the arm.
—A Storm of Swords - Sansa IV
The Broken Tower was easier still. They made a tall tower together, kneeling side by side to roll it smooth, and when they'd raised it Sansa stuck her fingers through the top, grabbed a handful of snow, and flung it full in his face. Petyr yelped, as the snow slid down under his collar. "That was unchivalrously done, my lady."
"As was bringing me here, when you swore to take me home."
She wondered where this courage had come from, to speak to him so frankly. From Winterfell, she thought. I am stronger within the walls of Winterfell.
—A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII
As I said before, I believe Sansa is going to get back north, Lady is already there waiting for her. But how can Sansa find her way to the north? What will lead her there? Would you believe me if I told you that to get north you have to follow a dragon? But not any dragon, an Ice Dragon:
“Osha,” Bran asked as they crossed the yard. “Do you know the way north? To the Wall and … and even past?”
“The way’s easy. Look for the Ice Dragon, and chase the blue star in the rider’s eye.” She backed through a door and started up the winding steps.
“And there are still giants there, and … the rest … the Others, and the children of the forest too?”
"The giants I’ve seen, the children I’ve heard tell of, and the white walkers … why do you want to know?”
—A Clash of Kings - Bran V
When they lost their way, as happened once or twice, they need only wait for a clear cold night when the clouds did not intrude, and look up in the sky for the Ice Dragon. The blue star in the dragon’s eye pointed the way north, as Osha told him once. Thinking of Osha made Bran wonder where she was. He pictured her safe in White Harbor with Rickon and Shaggydog, eating eels and fish and hot crab pie with fat Lord Manderly. Or maybe they were warming themselves at the Last Hearth before the Greatjon’s fires. But Bran’s life had turned into endless chilly days on Hodor’s back, riding his basket up and down the slopes of mountains.
— A Storm of Swords - Bran II
At the north window, he leaned against the sill for a breath of the cold night air, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mad Prendos raising sail, but the sea seemed black and empty as far as the eye could see. Is she gone already? He could only pray that she was, and the boy with her. A half moon was sliding in and out amongst thin high clouds, and Davos could see familiar stars. There was the Galley, sailing west; there the Crone’s Lantern, four bright stars that enclosed a golden haze. The clouds hid most of the Ice Dragon, all but the bright blue eye that marked due north. The sky is full of smugglers’ stars. They were old friends, those stars; Davos hoped that meant good luck.
—A Storm of Swords - Davos VI
There is a slightly difference between how the constellation is described in Westeros and beyond the Wall. Osha said that the blue star is the rider’s eye, but Bran said that the blue star is the Ice Dragon’s eye. But I like the idea of a blue-eyed Ice Dragon rider better, for reasons…
But what exactly is an ‘Ice Dragon’, besides a constellation that marks the way north?
Of all the queer and fabulous denizens of the Shivering Sea, however, the greatest are the ice dragons. These colossal beasts, many times larger than the dragons of Valyria, are said to be made of living ice, with eyes of pale blue crystal and vast translucent wings through which the moon and stars can be glimpsed as they wheel across the sky. Whereas common dragons (if any dragon can truly be said to be common) breathe flame, ice dragons supposedly breathe cold, a chill so terrible that it can freeze a man solid in half a heartbeat.
Sailors from half a hundred nations have glimpsed these great beasts over the centuries, so mayhap there is some truth behind the tales. Archmaester Margate has suggested that many legends of the north—freezing mists, ice ships, Cannibal Bay, and the like—can be explained as distorted reports of ice-dragon activity. Though an amusing notion, and not without a certain elegance, this remains the purest conjecture. As ice dragons supposedly melt when slain, no actual proof of their existence has ever been found.
—The World of Ice and Fire - Beyond the Free Cities: The Shivering Sea
So, Ice Dragons are colossal beasts many times larger than dragons of Valyria. Did Rhaegar Targaryen know about theIce Dragons? Was he trying to create an ‘Ice Dragon’ by impregnating a maid from House Stark? Very interesting…
"As you wish," said Whitebeard. "As a young boy, the Prince of Dragonstone was bookish to a fault. He was reading so early that men said Queen Rhaella must have swallowed some books and a candle whilst he was in her womb. Rhaegar took no interest in the play of other children. The maesters were awed by his wits, but his father's knights would jest sourly that Baelor the Blessed had been born again. Until one day Prince Rhaegar found something in his scrolls that changed him. No one knows what it might have been, only that the boy suddenly appeared early one morning in the yard as the knights were donning their steel. He walked up to Ser Willem Darry, the master-at-arms, and said, 'I will require sword and armor. It seems I must be a warrior.'"
—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys I
Being “bookish to a fault”, Rhaegar probably knew about Ice Dragons, about The Pact of Ice and Fire, and about something else that connects all that with the prophecy of the prince that was promised. But the answer probably awaits in TWOW or ADOS.
Also very interesting that in ASOIAF, the Ice Dragon is mentioned nine times, six of these nine times in Jon’s chapters. Apparently Jon is a big fan of the Ice Dragon:
So many stars, he thought as he trudged up the slope through pines and firs and ash. Maester Luwin had taught him his stars as a boy in Winterfell; he had learned the names of the twelve houses of heaven and the rulers of each; he could find the seven wanderers sacred to the Faith; he was old friends with the Ice Dragon, the Shadowcat, the Moonmaid, and the Sword of the Morning. All those he shared with Ygritte, but not some of the others. We look up at the same stars, and see such different things.
—A Storm of Swords - Jon III
Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, but above him the clouds were breaking up. Jon searched the sky until he found the Ice Dragon, then turned the mare north for the Wall and Castle Black.
—A Storm of Swords - Jon V
The ice pressed close around them, and he could feel the cold seeping into his bones, the weight of the Wall above his head. It felt like walking down the gullet of an ice dragon. The tunnel took a twist, and then another. Pyp unlocked a second iron gate. They walked farther, turned again, and saw light ahead, faint and pale through the ice. That’s bad, Jon knew at once. That’s very bad.
—A Storm of Swords - Jon VIII
The wind was gusting, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan had told when Jon was a boy. The heavy cage was swaying. From time to time it scraped against the Wall, starting small crystalline showers of ice that sparkled in the sunlight as they fell, like shards of broken glass.
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII
The road beneath the Wall was as dark and cold as the belly of an ice dragon and as twisty as a serpent. Dolorous Edd led them through with a torch in hand. Mully had the keys for the three gates, where bars of black iron as thick as a man’s arm closed off the passage.
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VIII
The snowfall was light today, a thin scattering of flakes dancing in the air, but the wind was blowing from the east along the Wall, cold as the breath of the ice dragon in the tales Old Nan used to tell. Even Melisandre’s fire was shivering; the flames huddled down in the ditch, crackling softly as the red priestess sang. Only Ghost seemed not to feel the chill.
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon X
Jon is also a big fan of various Targaryen heroes:
Jon’s cup from the table, filled it fresh from a nearby pitcher, and drank down a long swallow.
“Daeron Targaryen was only fourteen when he conquered Dorne,” Jon said. The Young Dragon was one of his heroes.
“A conquest that lasted a summer,” his uncle pointed out. “Your Boy King lost ten thousand men taking the place, and another fifty trying to hold it. Someone should have told him that war isn’t a game.” He took another sip of wine. “Also,” he said, wiping his mouth, “Daeron Targaryen was only eighteen when he died. Or have you forgotten that part?”
—A Game of Thrones - Jon I
When Jon had been a boy at Winterfell, his hero had been the Young Dragon, the boy king who had conquered Dorne at the age of fourteen. Despite his bastard birth, or perhaps because of it, Jon Snow had dreamed of leading men to glory just as King Daeron had, of growing up to be a conqueror. Now he was a man grown and the Wall was his, yet all he had were doubts. He could not even seem to conquer those.
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon VII
Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. “I’m Prince Aemon the Dragonknight,” Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, “Well, I’m Florian the Fool.” Or Robb would say, “I’m the Young Dragon,” and Jon would reply, “I’m Ser Ryam Redwyne.
"That morning he called it first. "I’m Lord of Winterfell!” he cried, as he had a hundred times before. Only this time, this time, Robb had answered, “You can’t be Lord of Winterfell, you’re bastard-born. My lady mother says you can’t ever be the Lord of Winterfell.”
—A Storm of Swords - Jon XII
I think that in those quotes the mention of Daeron Targaryen, The Young Dragon, is a foreshadowing of Robb becoming King in The North, a boy king called The Young Wolf who died, indeed, very young. So, maybe Jon could never be like The Young Dragon, but he could be his heir, because it is probable that Robb had named Jon his heir on his will. Jon is also the heir of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, called The Last Dragon.
Sansa is also very fond of certain Targaryen hero: Prince Aemon the Dragonknight. She compared Joffrey with the Dragonknight in her first chapter in AGOT:
"It would be my pleasure, Mother," Joffrey said very formally. He took her by the arm and led her away from the wheelhouse, and Sansa's spirits took flight. A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I
When she proclaimed her love to Joffrey, she compared her love to him with the love Queen Naerys felt for the Dragonknight:
“I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies.”
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III
Even after her father’s death, she would seek for comfort in her favorites stories. One of them was the one of the valiant Dragonknight:
She pulled a chair close to the hearth, took down one of her favorite books, and lost herself in the stories of Florian and Jonquil, of Lady Shella and the Rainbow Knight, of valiant Prince Aemon and his doomed love for his brother’s queen.
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa IV
When she dreamed of traumatic events, she wished to be saved by the heroes from the songs, among them, the Dragonknight:
That night Sansa dreamed of the riot again. The mob surged around her, shrieking, a maddened beast with a thousand faces. Everywhere she turned she saw faces twisted into monstrous inhuman masks. She wept and told them she had never done them hurt, yet they dragged her from her horse all the same. "No," she cried, "no, please, don't, don't," but no one paid her any heed. She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard.
—A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV
As you can see, another favorite hero of Sansa is Florian the Fool. But sadly, Robb who called out to be Florian the Fool during his trainings with Jon, failed in rescuing Sansa. In the same way, Ser Dontos Hollard who also claimed being Sansa’s Florian, also failed in rescuing her, he just handed her to another butcher.
But there is hope for Sansa to meet true knights in her life, even if her true knights happen to be a woman and a northern boy who doesn’t follow the Faith of the Seven. And here we have one of the greatest foreshadowings of the Books, delivered by none other than Queen Cersei herself:
"True knights would never harm women and children." The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.
"True knights." The queen seemed to find that wonderfully amusing. "No doubt you're right. So why don't you just eat your broth like a good girl and wait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to come rescue you, sweetling. I'm sure it won't be very long now."
—A Clash of Kings - Sansa V
So, who could it be Sansa’s Symeon Star-Eyes?
Symeon Star-Eyes is a legendary figure from the Age of Heroes who was blind. He is described in tales as a knight even though chivalry came to Westeros thousands of years after. According to legend, Symeon was a knight who lost both of his eyes. He replaced them by putting star sapphires in the empty sockets, or so the singers claim. He fought with a long staff with blades at both ends and would spin it in his hands to chop down two men at once. He once visited the Nightfort where he saw hellhounds fighting. [x]
I think the answer is Brienne of Tarth, a knight who is not really a knight with beautiful sapphire blue eyes, like the waters of her homeland, Tarth.
And who could it be Sansa’s Dragonknight?
“There was a black brother,” Sansa said, “begging men for the Wall, only he was kind of old and smelly.” She hadn’t liked that at all. She had always imagined the Night’s Watch to be men like Uncle Benjen. In the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. But this man had been crookbacked and hideous, and he looked as though he might have lice. If this was what the Night’s Watch was truly like, she felt sorry for her bastard half brother, Jon. “Father asked if there were any knights in the hall who would do honor to their houses by taking the black, but no one came forward, so he gave this Yoren his pick of the king’s dungeons and sent him on his way. And later these two brothers came before him, freeriders from the Dornish Marches, and pledged their swords to the service of the king. Father accepted their oaths …”
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III
I believe the answer is Jon Snow. The Dragonknight and Jon Snow share many parallels: both second sons, both had a brother named Aegon, both were members of a lifetime order: Kingsguard & Night’s Watch, both wielded Valyrian steel swords: Dark Sister & Longclaw, both willing to defend their sisters from abusers. Also, and maybe the most important, both Targaryens. Besides, take note that Aemon the Dragonknight was Daeron Targaryen - The Young Dragon’s first cousin, just like Jon Snow was Robb Stark – The Young Wolf’s first cousin.
On top of all that, in its very unique way, the Show just confirmed that Brienne and Jon would play an important role helping Sansa in the future.
Back to Jon and dragons, he is certainly really fascinated by these creatures, he talks a lot about them, especially during his time in the Wall and beyond.
In summary, so far, we know that the way north is marked by the Ice Dragon and Jon Snow seems to be fascinated with the Ice Dragon. But note also that Jon Snow embodied the north in him, despite the fact of being a Targaryen.
Indeed, Jon is not only a ‘Snow’, he is the bastard of House Stark, the Wardens of the North. The Starks motto is “Winter is coming”. And, precisely Jon is always associated with snow (his surname and his -white as snow- direwolf Ghost); ice (The Wall); winter (Starks motto) and Winterfell, his home. He is the “Snow of Winterfell”:
The boy absorbed that all in silence. He had the Stark face if not the name: long, solemn, guarded, a face that gave nothing away. Whoever his mother had been, she had left little of herself in her son.
—A Game of Thrones - Tyrion II
She might have overlooked a dozen bastards for Ned’s sake, so long as they were out of sight. Jon was never out of sight, and as he grew, he looked more like Ned than any of the trueborn sons she bore him.
—A Game of Thrones - Catelyn II
“A shade more exhausting than needlework,” Jon observed.
“A shade more fun than needlework,” Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did.
—A Game of Thrones - Arya I
Sansa could never understand how two sisters, born only two years apart, could be so different. It would have been easier if Arya had been a bastard, like their half brother Jon. She even looked like Jon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing of their lady mother in her face or her coloring.
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa I
“Who’s this one now?“ Craster said before Jon could go. “He has the look of a Stark.”
“My steward and squire, Jon Snow.”
—A Clash of Kings - Jon III
His northern features are the perfect disguise to hide his true parentage. He is acknowledged as a Stark just by looking at his face. He looks like a younger version of Ned.
Now let’s ask the following question: It is posible for Sansa to be attracted by a man with the Stark look?
As I said earlier, this line: ‘Hollow knights turning into dragons’, makes me thing about a change in Sansa’s taste in men, but maybe not a change to something new, but a change back to her first instincts regarding men. So, this is a good time to remind you all that Sansa’s first crush was a Brother of the Night’s Watch:
“Bronze Yohn knows me,” she reminded him. “He was a guest at Winterfell when his son rode north to take the black.” She had fallen wildly in love with Ser Waymar, she remembered dimly, but that was a lifetime ago, when she was a stupid little girl. “And that was not the only time. Lord Royce saw … he saw Sansa Stark again at King’s Landing, during the Hand’s tourney.”
—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I
And how does Ser Waymar Royce looked?
Ser Waymar Royce was the youngest son of an ancient house with too many heirs. He was a handsome youth of eighteen, grey-eyed and graceful and slender as a knife.
—A Game of Thrones - Prologue
Shall we see Jon Snow’s description now?
Jon's eyes were a grey so dark they seemed almost black, but there was little they did not see. He was of an age with Robb, but they did not look alike. Jon was slender where Robb was muscular, dark where Robb was fair, graceful and quick where his half brother was strong and fast.
—A Game of Thrones - Bran I
Sansa also compares and/or associates Bronze Yohn, Ser Waymar Royce’s Dad, with her own Dad, Ned:
Last of all came the Royces, Lord Nestor and Bronze Yohn. The Lord of Runestone stood as tall as the Hound. Though his hair was grey and his face lined, Lord Yohn still looked as though he could break younger men like twigs in those huge gnarled hands. His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa’s memories of his time at Winterfell. She remembered him at table, speaking quietly with her mother. She heard his voice booming off the walls when he rode back from a hunt with a buck behind his saddle. She could see him in the yard, a practice sword in hand, hammering her father to the ground and turning to defeat Ser Rodrik as well. He will know me. How could he not? She considered throwing herself at his feet to beg for his protection. He never fought for Robb, why should he fight for me? The war is finished and Winterfell is fallen. “Lord Royce,�� she asked timidly, “will you have a cup of wine, to take the chill off?”
Bronze Yohn had slate-grey eyes, half-hidden beneath the bushiest eyebrows she had ever seen. They crinkled when he looked down at her. “Do I know you, girl?”
—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I
See? Solemn faces and grey eyes. There is a pattern here: Waymar looks like a younger version of Bronze Yohn, just like Jon looks like a younger version of Ned. Sansa compares and/or associates the older men and the younger ones both ride north to the Wall and become Sworn Brothers of the Night’s Watch…
…And Sansa fell wildly in love with Ser Waymar, and Jon fell in love with a wildling girl kissed by fire…
…And guess how Sansa’s hair is described???
“A shade more exhausting than needlework,” Jon observed.
“A shade more fun than needlework,” Arya gave back at him. Jon grinned, reached over, and messed up her hair. Arya flushed. They had always been close. Jon had their father’s face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys, with easy smiles and fire in their hair. When Arya had been little, she had been afraid that meant that she was a bastard too. It had been Jon she had gone to in her fear, and Jon who had reassured her.
—A Game of Thrones - Arya I
See? Fire in her hair.
Fire in her hair.
FIRE IN HER HAIR.
OH GEORGE!
Besides all that, take note that Sansa, before she met Yoren, had always imagined the Night’s Watch to be men like her Uncle Benjen -who had the Stark look-. She recalled that in the songs, they were called the black knights of the Wall. That is to say, Sansa had a high regard for the men who take the black and associated them with her beloved knights from the songs.
And finally, let’s ask this question as well: It is posible for Jon to be attracted by a womanlike Sansa? I firmly believe that the answer is YES!
As Bran pointed out, there was little Jon’s eyes did not see. Jon was able to describe exactly what Sansa was feeling while walking inside Winterfell’s Great Hall beside Joffrey: “Sansa looked ‘radiant’ as she walked beside him” Jon thought; and after all, back then, Sansa thought this about Joffrey: “He was all she ever dreamt her prince should be, tall and handsome and strong, with hair like gold.” Jon could sense Sansa’s emotions regarding Joffrey even if those emotions displeased him, because Jon was also able to clearly see Joffrey’s true nature: “but Jon did not like Joffrey’s pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell’s Great Hall.”
As observant as Jon is, he knows Sansa very well, even if they are not close; and I believe that Jon also knows a lot about Sansa due to Arya. In fact, Jon appreciates many of Sansa’s traits, which others seem to dismiss as stupid [1] [2] [3]: her innocence, her singing, her courteous nature, her love for pretty things, and her naive belief in romantic stories:
The pale pink light of dawn sparkled on branch and leaf and stone. Every blade of grass was carved from emerald, every drip of water turned to diamond. Flowers and mushrooms alike wore coats of glass. Even the mud puddles had a bright brown sheen. Through the shimmering greenery, the black tents of his brothers were encased in a fine glaze of ice.
So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. He found himself thinking of his sisters, perhaps because he'd dreamed of them last night. Sansa would call this an enchantment, and tears would fill her eyes at the wonder of it, but Arya would run out laughing and shouting, wanting to touch it all.
—A Clash of Kings - Jon III
"Gilly, he called me. For the gillyflower."
"That's pretty." He remembered Sansa telling him once that he should say that whenever a lady told him her name. He could not help the girl, but perhaps the courtesy would please her. "Is it Craster who frightens you, Gilly?"
—A Clash of Kings - Jon III
He thought of Robb, with snowflakes melting in his hair. Kill the boy and let the man be born. He thought of Bran, clambering up a tower wall, agile as a monkey. Of Rickon's breathless laughter. Of Sansa, brushing out Lady's coat and singing to herself. You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back …
—A Dance with Dragons - Jon XIII
So, YES, I firmly believe that a man like Jon, lacking and in need of the sweetness of a woman, could easily fall for a loving creature like Sansa. There’s also the red hair issue featuring Catelyn and Ygritte.
Jon and Sansa also share the dream of rebuild Winterfell and the Stark dynasty by having children with the names of their beloved father and siblings.
See? They are destined to meet again in the north and help each other to slay their enemies and achieve their dreams together.
[x]
V. BETROTHED TO THE DRAGON’S HEIR*
(*Although is not confirmed in the Books yet, from now on I’m going to assume openly that R+L=J is true and also that Jon possibly is Rhaegar’s -trueborn- son)
Now we just got to the part that makes me decide to write this post. Because while I was searching for any connections between Sansa and dragons I found a passage that contains a huge foreshadowing of ‘Sansa being the betrothed of the dragon’s heir’. And this foreshadowing could be the confirmation of the fifth Sansa’s betrothed being a member of House Targaryen, according to the Theory of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow.
As I said before, following the pattern stablished by the five final champions of the Tourney at Ashford Meadow, Sansa Stark first betrothed would be a man of House Baratheon, as it actually was. Joffrey Baratheon was Sansa’s first betrothed. And Sansa’s fifth betrothed would be a Prince of House Targaryen. And I believe that man would be Jon Snow.
Let’s go back to this line: “Someplace no stag ever found… though a dragon might.” In the text the word ‘someplace’ refers to where Brienne’s supposed “sister” is -the beautiful highborn maid of three-and-ten that has blue eyes and auburn hair-. But in the history of ASOIAF universe, the word ‘someplace’ could also refer to the heart of a Stark girl.
Joffrey and Jon, Jon and Joffrey. I have a theory about them, I called it the ‘JoJo Theory’. Maybe one day I will turn my thoughts on them into words. But for now, let’s talk about these two in relation to Sansa.
Joffrey and Jon are supposed to be the sons of two best friends: Robert Baratheon and Ned Stark respectively. But none of them are really that. And I think they both were living the other’s life. I mean, Joffrey took Jon’s real place in the world, as Jon took Joffrey’s.
Joffrey, who is supposed to be the trueborn son and heir of King Robert Baratheon, is truly a little shit bastard, the illegitimate child of Jaime Lannister. And he is the vicious, despicable type of bastard as well.
On the other hand, Jon who is suppose to be the baseborn son of Ned Stark, is actually the son of Prince Rhaegar Targaryen and the last Targaryen heir to the Iron Throne. And he is the very opposite of the vicious, despicable Joffrey. Jon is brave and has a noble heart.
Also note that the real fathers of Joffrey and Jon are the men who Cersei and Lyanna choose over Robert; that is to say: Jaime and Rhaegar.
So, reading again this line: “Someplace no stag ever found… though a dragon might.”, we know that in the past that line was true, as Robert Baratheon never found his way to Lyanna Stark’s heart unlike Prince Rhaegar Targaryen. And it could be true again, in the future, as Joffrey (no stag) never really found his way to Sansa’s heart, but Jon (who is also a dragon) might do. Let’s see:
His half sisters escorted the royal princes. Arya was paired with plump young Tommen, whose white-blond hair was longer than hers. Sansa, two years older, drew the crown prince, Joffrey Baratheon. He was twelve, younger than Jon or Robb, but taller than either, to Jon's vast dismay. Prince Joffrey had his sister's hair and his mother's deep green eyes. A thick tangle of blond curls dripped down past his golden choker and high velvet collar. Sansa looked radiant as she walked beside him, but Jon did not like Joffrey's pouty lips or the bored, disdainful way he looked at Winterfell's Great Hall.
—A Game of Thrones - Jon I
Jon was obviously jealous of Joffrey, in the same fashion he was of Robb. Joffrey was ‘trueborn’, a royal prince, the heir of the Iron Throne, with a place of honor at the table just below the dais where the King and Queen were seated, handsome, taller than him despite being younger, and on top of all that, Joffrey got the beautiful radiant girl by his side. Jon just couldn’t believe why, while having all of that, Joffrey and his pouty wormy lips gave Winterfell’s Great Hall a bored and disdainful look.
You don’t believe Jon was jealous of Joffrey? Read this then:
"Then you saw us all. Prince Joffrey and Prince Tommen, Princess Myrcella, my brothers Robb and Bran and Rickon, my sisters Arya and Sansa. You saw them walk the center aisle with every eye upon them and take their seats at the table just below the dais where the king and queen were seated."
"I remember."
"And did you see where I was seated, Mance?" He leaned forward. "Did you see where they put the bastard?"
—A Storm of Swords - Jon
I know that in this scene, Jon was trying to convince Mance that he really wanted to join the freefolk. He was trying to deceive him and infiltrate into the enemy’s camp. Despite that, the things Jon said to Mance at that moment, rang true. So in the end, Jon did convince Mance and he ended up joining the freefolk, as a covert mission entrusted to him by Qhorin Halfhand.
Still you don’t believe me when I said Jon was jealous of Joffrey? Listen to Sansa herself then:
"What did you think of Prince Joff, sister? He's very gallant, don't you think?"
"Jon says he looks like a girl," Arya said.
Sansa sighed as she stitched. "Poor Jon," she said. "He gets jealous because he's a bastard."
"He's our brother," Arya said, much too loudly. Her voice cut through the afternoon quiet of the tower room.
—A Game of Thrones, Arya I
Now tell me that Jon saying that ‘Joffrey looks like a girl’ is not proof enough of Jon Snow being obviously jealous of the crown prince.
But Jon Snow who knows nothing, except, maybe, that Joffrey is truly a little shit, has no idea that Joffrey was living his life.
And his sisters cousins, Sansa and Arya, unbeknownst to him, expose this truth to Ned while talking about Joffrey’s hair color (note that Ned always knew who Jon’s real father is):
“Father, I only just now remembered, I can’t go away, I’m to marry Prince Joffrey.” She tried to smile bravely for him. “I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies.”
“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.”
“He is!" Sansa insisted. "I don’t want someone brave and gentle, I want him. We’ll be ever so happy, just like in the songs, you’ll see. I’ll give him a son with golden hair, and one day he’ll be the king of all the realm, the greatest king that ever was, as brave as the wolf and as proud as the lion.
"Arya made a face. "Not if Joffrey’s his father,” she said. “He’s a liar and a craven and anyhow he’s a stag, not a lion.”
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III
"All three are Jaime's," he said. It was not a question.
"Thank the gods."
The seed is strong, Jon Arryn had cried on his deathbed, and so it was. All those bastards, all with hair as black as night. Grand Maester Malleon recorded the last mating between stag and lion, some ninety years ago, when Tya Lannister wed Gowen Baratheon, third son of the reigning lord. Their only issue, an unnamed boy described in Malleon's tome as a large and lusty lad born with a full head of black hair, died in infancy. Thirty years before that a male Lannister had taken a Baratheon maid to wife. She had given him three daughters and a son, each black-haired. No matter how far back Ned searched in the brittle yellowed pages, always he found the gold yielding before the coal.
"A dozen years," Ned said. "How is it that you have had no children by the king?"
—A Game of Thrones - Eddard XII
I can clearly imagine Ned thinking about how he had to hide Jon Snow, the heir of the Last Dragon, as his bastard; while Joffrey, an actual bastard, was living the life that could have been Jon’s, had Rhaegar prevailed over Robert.
This kind of ‘switched at birth’ case between Jon and Joffrey and the possibility of Jon being Sansa’s fifth Targaryen betrothed, is actually foreshadowed in the Books. Let’s read this passage from Sansa’s first chapter in ACOK:
The morning of King Joffrey’s name day dawned bright and windy, with the long tail of the great comet visible through the high scuttling clouds. Sansa was watching it from her tower window when Ser Arys Oakheart arrived to escort her down to the tourney grounds. “What do you think it means?” she asked him.
“Glory to your betrothed,” Ser Arys answered at once. "See how it flames across the sky today on His Grace’s name day, as if the gods themselves had raised a banner in his honor. The smallfolk have named it King Joffrey’s Comet.”
Doubtless that was what they told Joffrey; Sansa was not so sure. “I’ve heard servants calling it the Dragon’s Tail.”
“King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son,” Ser Arys said. “He is the dragon’s heir—and crimson is the color of House Lannister, another sign. This comet is sent to herald Joffrey’s ascent to the throne, I have no doubt. It means that he will triumph over his enemies.
"Is it true? she wondered. Would the gods be so cruel? Her mother was one of Joffrey’s enemies now, her brother Robb another. Her father had died by the king’s command. Must Robb and her lady mother die next? The comet was red, but Joffrey was Baratheon as much as Lannister, and their sigil was a black stag on a golden field. Shouldn’t the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?
— A Clash of Kings - Sansa I
See? From “Glory to your betrothed,” to “King Joffrey sits where Aegon the Dragon once sat, in the castle built by his son” “He is the dragon’s heir” Every word from Arys Oakheart’s mouth evokes Jon, not Joffrey. Joffrey is not a dragon, far less the dragon’s heir; he’s not even a stag.
If Joffrey had truly been the son of Robert Baratheon, he indeed would have had a bit of Targaryen blood, because Robert’s grandmother was the Princess Rhaelle Targaryen, but that’s not the case.
And the red comet could never be ‘Joffrey’s Comet’ as Sansa correctly pointed out when she said: “Shouldn’t the gods have sent Joff a golden comet?” The servants were right; the red comet was related to dragons, just as the person who knows everything in ASOIAF stated emphatically:
Bran asked Septon Chayle about the comet while they were sorting through some scrolls snatched from the library fire. "It is the sword that slays the season,” he replied, and soon after the white raven came from Oldtown bringing word of autumn, so doubtless he was right.
Though Old Nan did not think so, and she’d lived longer than any of them. “Dragons,” she said, lifting her head and sniffing. She was near blind and could not see the comet, yet she claimed she could smell it. “It be dragons, boy,” she insisted. Bran got no princes from Nan, no more than he ever had.
Hodor said only, “Hodor.” That was all he ever said.
—A Clash of Kings - Bran I
Sadly the last part of this passage from Sansa’s first chapter in ACOK, also foreshadowed the Red Wedding. The Lannisters once more would take her family from her; this time Catelyn and Robb.
But let's stick with the good part, the part where she is called the betrothed of the dragon’s heir, that is not Joffrey, but Jon Snow, her own Dragonknight, her Black Knight of the Wall, her dark haired prince hiding in the north. We can only hope that this time the betrothal will end in a real marriage, because Sansa’s betrothal record isn’t so good thus far:
Joffrey Baratheon (the Psychopath Bastard), the betrothal was broken.
Willas Tyrell (the Cripple), the betrothal was cancelled.
Tyrion Lannister (the Imp), the marriage was not consummated.
Harrold Hardying (the Arse), the betrothal still stands but the bride is Alayne Stone.
Jon Snow (is dead but on the third day he will rise again from the dead).
But against the odds, I believe Sansa will wear a Targaryen Cloak, and under that protection, she will slay her enemies.
VI. A TARGARYEN CLOAK
As I mentioned before, in the Books Sansa is in the Vale in the guise of Alayne Stone, eating lemony lemony lemon cakes and trying to charm, entice and bewitch Harry the Arse the Heir, her fourth betrothed:
Harrold Hardyng, often called Harry the Heir and sometimes the Young Falcon, is a gallant, handsome squire, and a ward of Lady Anya Waynwood. He is the heir presumptive of Lord Robert Arryn and would ascend to rule the Vale as "Harrold Arryn" should Lord Robert die without issue. [x]
The Arryn sigil is a sky-blue falcon soaring against a white moon on a sky-blue field. [x]
Shortly before Sansa found out about her fourth betrothal, while observing a blue falcon, she wished she had wings, but not precisely falcon wings; she just wanted to fly from her tower/cage and be free:
A falcon soared above the frozen waterfall, blue wings spread wide against the morning sky. Would that I had wings as well.
—A Feast for Crows - Alayne I
Unbeknownst to Sansa, she is imagined by the smallfolk as a ‘winged wolf’ who freed herself from her captors and flew away:
“What wife?”
“I forgot, you’ve been hiding under a rock. The northern girl. Winterfell’s daughter. We heard she killed the king with a spell, and afterward changed into a wolf with big leather wings like a bat, and flew out a tower window. But she left the dwarf behind and Cersei means to have his head.”
That’s stupid, Arya thought. Sansa only knows songs, not spells, and she’d never marry the Imp.
—A Storm of Swords - Arya XIII
Big leather wings reminds me of dragons instead of bats, and I think that was George’s intention, he was subtly referring to dragon’s wings:
“Tell me how my child died.”
“He never lived, my princess. The women say …”
(…)
“They say the child was …”
(…)
“Monstrous,” Mirri Maz Duur finished for him. The knight was a powerful man, yet Dany understood in that moment that the maegi was stronger, and crueler, and infinitely more dangerous. “Twisted. I drew him forth myself. He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the stub of a tail and small leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him, the flesh sloughed off the bone, and inside he was full of graveworms and the stink of corruption. He had been dead for years.
—A Game of Thrones - Daenerys IX
In the center of the Plaza of Pride stood a red brick fountain whose waters smelled of brimstone, and in the center of the fountain a monstrous harpy made of hammered bronze. Twenty feet tall she reared. She had a woman’s face, with gilded hair, ivory eyes, and pointed ivory teeth. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms she had the wings of a bat or a dragon, her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind she wore a scorpion’s curled and venomous tail.
—A Storm of Swords - Daenerys II
So, the fascinating image of Sansa as a wolf with big leather wings created by George in ASOS, for me is a foreshadowing of her, in the future, wearing a Targaryen Cloak.
VII. THE PRINCE THAT WAS PROMISED BY NED
When Ned told Sansa that her betrothal to Joffrey was a terrible mistake, he also promised to make a better match for her:
“Father, I only just now remembered, I can’t go away, I’m to marry Prince Joffrey.” She tried to smile bravely for him. “I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies.”
“Sweet one,” her father said gently, “listen to me. When you’re old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who’s worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me.”
“He is!" Sansa insisted. "I don’t want someone brave and gentle, I want him. We’ll be ever so happy, just like in the songs, you’ll see. I’ll give him a son with golden hair, and one day he’ll be the king of all the realm, the greatest king that ever was, as brave as the wolf and as proud as the lion.”
Arya made a face. "Not if Joffrey’s his father,” she said. “He’s a liar and a craven and anyhow he’s a stag, not a lion.”
—A Game of Thrones - Sansa III
It is very probable that Ned was not thinking about Jon Snow when she promised someone brave and gentle and strong for Sansa. But the mentioned qualities certainly suit Jon very well. And the mention of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight with all the parallels shared with Jon, make me think of no other than him.
Also, please read these quotes:
"You said you'd help me," Gilly reminded him.
"I said Jon would help you. Jon's brave, and he's a good fighter, but I think he's dead now. I'm a craven. And fat. Look how fat I am. Besides, Lord Mormont's hurt. Can't you see? I couldn't leave the Lord Commander."
"Child," said the other old woman, "that old crow's gone before you. Look."
—A Storm of Swords - Samwell II
Jon is brave, a good fighter and willing to help women and children in need, in other words, the epitome of chivalry.
"My father once told me that some men are not worth having," Jon finished. "A bannerman who is brutal or unjust dishonors his liege lord as well as himself."
"Craster is his own man. He has sworn us no vows. Nor is he subject to our laws. Your heart is noble, Jon, but learn a lesson here. We cannot set the world to rights. That is not our purpose. The Night's Watch has other wars to fight."
Other wars. Yes. I must remember. "Jarman Buckwell said I might have need of my sword soon."
—A Clash of Kings - Jon III
Jon is not only brave and a good fighter; he also has a noble heart and pursues justice, in other words, a man who is worthy.
"Swimming? In the storm?" She laughed at the notion. "Is this a trick t' get the clothes off me, Jon Snow?"
"Do I need a trick for that now?" he teased. "Or is that you can't swim a stroke?" Jon was a strong swimmer himself, having learned the art as a boy in Winterfell's great moat.
Ygritte punched his arm. "You know nothing, Jon Snow. I'm half a fish, I'll have you know."
—A Storm of Swords - Jon V
Jon is strong, a strong swimmer. Have you seen the bodies of the swimmers during the Olympics??? He also likes girls kissed by fire with fire in their hair and that are half a fish… See? There is a pattern here: Catelyn, Ygritte… Sansa… OH GEORGE!
Who would be better for Sansa than a man who was raised by her own father? Also, take into account that our good old Ned Stark always, always, always kept his promises, no matter what, and not even the death could prevent him from keeping his word.
And just imagine how Sansa would feel/react when she finds out that:
Jon beheaded Janos Slynt.
Jon refused Stannis’ offer to get legitimized as Jon Stark and be named Lord of Winterfell, because he did not want to despoil her of her rights.
Jon fondly imagined her amazement should she gaze upon the magic beyond The Wall.
Jon put in practice her lessons about being courteous with girls.
Jon lovingly remembered how she’d brush out Lady's coat, singing to herself, before he died.
Jon was jealous of Joffrey because she looked radiant walking beside that little shit.
Jon had a wildling girlfriend with fire in her hair that was half a fish.
***FAITH IN MEN RESTORED***
I rest my case.
#Sansa Stark#Jon Snow#Sansa x Jon#Jon x Sansa#jonsa#dragon#dragons#ice dragon#ice dragon rider#golden dragons#betrothed to the dragon’s heir#Targaryen Cloak#The prince that was promised by Ned#A wolf with big leather wings like a bat#A Wolf with Dragon Wings#my post
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Petty
a/n: ‘Cause you know Arthur doesn’t let things go, and omegaverse pettiness is something I’ve always dreamed about- you can’t exactly be passive-aggressive with all those hostile scents lmao...
This is my first time writing a post-break-up fic so forgive me if the situation is messed up a bit. I just wanted to do something else, rather than Alfred loving Arthur or Arthur loving Alfred..
Day 4: Summer Camp for the usuknetwork’s Summer Getaway event.
Alfred hadn’t been too happy when he had found that his ex-boyfriend was his daughter’s camp counselor.
Of course, he had nothing to fear. Amelia was only four years old, and with a face like hers, one couldn’t even fathom the thought of hurting her. Chubby cheeks, blonde hair curled into pigtails, big blue eyes, little dimples just like her father’s- well, Alfred supposed anything of hers that reminded his ex of him would be rather unfortunate, but the point was that she was a child.
She was a cute, cute child, and even an ex as crazy as Arthur Kirkland wouldn’t do a thing to her.
Hell, Alfred had met the omega in high school. High school! A hell of a long time ago. Alfred could barely remember the mathematical concepts he’d learned there, let alone an old fling.
Yet as he took Amelia to her first day at a tots’ summer camp, upon hearing positive reviews about an eccentric camp counselor who’d taught his neighbor’s three-year-old how to say the ABC’s forwards and backward, he was almost immediately pierced through the chest by those molten green eyes.
“Alfred Jones.”
Arthur practically hissed the name and it was like a scene out of a western movie. Alfred could feel his Adam's apple bobbing as Arthur sized him up from behind the counter, hair just as blond and wild as he remembered, brows, if anything, wilder.
And that English accent. It was the same exact one he’d sported all throughout high school and if Alfred didn’t fear for his life just then, with all the bitter scents being thrown at him, he would’ve cracked a joke about how Arthur had to have been practicing it.
“Hi, I’m here to sign my daughter up for the program?”
Arthur emitted yet another tart scent, this one put a crinkle in Alfred’s nose, and Alfred wondered exactly what he’d done to hurt the man.
He had remembered Arthur as a boy he used to date, and that was it. An ex-boyfriend, neither sane nor crazy, because those details didn’t matter to him, he didn’t care. But that itself had been taken to the next level that day, as his arm automatically shot out to protect his little pup, who’d taken to cowering behind Alfred’s leg at the warning scent the alpha had thrown off, just for a split second. With his jaw clenched, brows furrowed in slight worry.
Arthur Kirkland was crazy, and for whatever reason it was, hated Alfred Jones.
And Alfred should’ve turned and taken Amelia away right that second, but she seemed completely and utterly unaware of the hostility, and the reviews were good, and the charge was even better-
As Arthur had led Amelia away, her little hand closing around Arthur’s finger, he turned to shoot one last parting look in Alfred’s direction before turning back to Amelia with a rare, soft smile.
Through all of this, he was somehow flattered that Arthur would care enough to remember to hate him. Alfred, however, had not one clue as to why. He remembered the face, he remembered the name, he remembered that he had done something and they had broken up, yes, he remembered to that extent.
But it was around ten years ago.
It couldn’t possibly have been so bad that Arthur felt the need to throw a bitter scent in his direction every time their gazes met. That he would ignore the fact that Alfred existed, that he would dismiss Alfred’s small-talk in every weekly parent meeting, not even so much as looking him in the eyes.
“It’s kinda hot in here, isn’t it?”
And Arthur would frown, flipping through the papers on his desk like Alfred hadn’t just spoken, plucking out a file labeled with Amelia’s name.
“Your daughter takes well to group activity and assumes leadership quite easily, but that can serve to be a problem seeing as she is equally disruptive at times.”
He would do it all in those teeny tiny shorts too, crossing those legs sternly, leaving Alfred torn between wanting to strangle Arthur and wanting to strangle himself in between those thighs.
“She’s usually pretty calm.” Alfred would say and Arthur would cock an eyebrow.
“Maybe at home with you, sir, but she’s picked a fight with at least ten other alphas in the span of five days. Nevertheless, she has been improving.”
If that was the truth, the camp definitely benefitted his daughter.
Yet every single day, every day he felt that boiling hatred hit him like a bag of bricks, whenever he walked in to pick his daughter up. Hell, it would take just a single complaint from her little lips and Alfred would take her out of the program. One little peep. A complaint that Alfred waited for every day.
Yet it never came. Amelia came home with a brighter smile every evening, gushing over the way Mr. K helped them make puppets, or how Mr. K had taught them a neat poem on how to spell Mississippi. She adored him, worshiped him, and for her happiness, for her education, Alfred would have to keep undergoing the Herculean labor that was walking to pick her up under the piercing gaze of Arthur Kirkland, his very own, personal demon.
Alfred could’ve easily reported his behavior, yet Amelia seemed adamant in her adoration toward her father’s crazy ex-boyfriend, it would break her little heart.
“Daddy! Daddy!” She would say and Alfred would give her a silent smile in response. "Can Mr. K come over for dinner?”
If you want daddy in the oven as your main course, then sure, honey.
The situation had definitely warranted a visit during the camp’s work hours.
Besides Alfred desperately wanting her to learn something, the reason for enrolling Amelia into the camp was the freedom it would give Alfred to work in peace. Most parents sat at the picnic tables that lined the perimeter of the play area to watch their kids in action, and Alfred decided to do the same that Friday, despite the fact that his boss wasn’t too happy about his “sick leave”.
Alfred simply had to do it.
You see, no one had ever outright hated him this intensely. Not ever, not to his face, and Alfred was going to get to the bottom of it. No matter what it took.
He watched as Arthur set the kids down to eat their lunch, seeking the shady shelter beneath a tree as he struggled to catch his breath. He was close enough for Alfred to see the red flush in every inch of exposed skin, the sheen of sweat glossing the area beneath that damp blond fringe.
Alfred had quite enjoyed watching the game of tag. Besides having to see Arthur run back and forth, winded, trying to tag little, spirited kids, Amelia was quite the runner and it put a sense of pride in his heart as well. That was all.
It definitely wasn’t from watching Arthur parade around in those shorts that seemed, if possible, shorter than the last time he’d seen them.
No, because Arthur was evil and not attractive in any way whatsoever.
Alfred made his way to the tree. “Would you like some water?”
The omega glanced up to shoot Alfred a glare, gaze dropping down to the bottle being thrust in his direction.
“No.”
“You need water, your bottle is clear and it’s obviously empty.”
“Oh, you’d know exactly what’s best for me, wouldn’t you, then.” Arthur snapped before crossing his arms, marking the first ever string of words he’d said to Alfred that weren’t professionally motivated.
It was progress.
“What is your problem, dude?”
“You, if I haven’t made that obvious.”
And Arthur had stomped away, leaving a smattering of other parents throwing curious glances at Alfred as any people wanting in on a drama would.
He gave them a dismissive, if not embarrassed, smile.
Take two. He’d cornered Arthur after the hours ended, deciding on a different approach. “Hey, I’m sorry if I did anything to hurt you, but-”
“Nice try, Jones. I can tell when you’re actually sorry.” Arthur said. “You get all trembly and you can barely form sentences, so quit the act.”
Alfred suppressed a growl and Amelia clung to his legs yet again, sensing her father’s anger.
“Listen, I don’t even know why you’re mad at me in the first place.”
“So you’d apologize without knowing?” Arthur sneered before turning his back, tossing a look over his shoulder as he headed toward the door, to possibly leave, start up his car and lock up behind him, “It’s nice to know you don’t remember me. Really rubs the salt right in the wound.”
“Wait- I remember you, I just-”
“Yeah, you’ve chosen to forget how you ripped my heart out of my chest and stomped all over it for three years of my life.”
Alfred definitely did not remember that.
Arthur must’ve read the open-mouthed expression on Alfred’s face because he scoffed, turning to face him, “Your daughter is tired, just take her home and get her some rest.”
“Arthur, what did I do?”
Amelia’s groggy tug to the leg of his trouser didn’t go unnoticed. He hoisted his daughter up to sit at his hip, tucking her soft blond head into the crook of his neck and Arthur’s stony green eyes seemed to soften. Just for a bit.
“Are you married?” Arthur eyed Amelia’s weary, bouncing leg and Alfred chuckled.
“No, my boyfriend, her birth father, left us a few years ago. Not many omegas would want second-hand merch like me.”
Arthur clasped his hands, averting his eyes to stare at the reflection of the ceiling light on the polished tile floor. “That sucks.”
It seemed genuine enough. Still tinged with that lemony, tart scent of hatred, but a more watered-down version of it. Alfred was used to this type of reaction from anyone that asked about Amelia’s father.
But he had more important things in mind.
“Just tell me what I did.”
And Arthur chewed his lip, looking smaller than the hissy act had made him appear to be. In that large, camp logo-adorned jacket, belted khaki shorts, socks rolled up his shins, frown tugging at his brows- he didn’t look so crazy.
He just looked sad. “Nevermind, it’s childish.”
Alfred just looked at him and Arthur heaved a sigh, “You told me you fell out of love with me a few months into our relationship.”
“Things like that happen, Arthur.” Alfred reasoned, to which Arthur glanced up, eyes fiery yet again.
“You told me over text.”
Oh.
“I saw you making out with your new boyfriend the same day, one or two hours later.”
Oh.
“And despite the fact that I had never stopped loving you for the rest of high school, you never once attempted to give me closure. I had to see you shift from lover to lover, casting not one glance at me, as if you’d never known me.”
Alfred could imagine it. Having to see someone you loved with someone else, having to see them pretend you didn’t exist, for three whole years until different choices of university drove them apart, and now here they were.
“Arthur I’m… I had no idea. I was an asshole, I- God, I-”
“You were young, it was wrong of me to hold a grudge until now,” Arthur muttered, the slight scowl on his lips a pleasant contrast from the rest of the expressions Arthur had served him for the last few weeks. “We’re all adults here.”
It was true. The prospect of having someone hate every fiber of his being had put a bit of stress on Alfred’s shoulders. He’d never expected to have faced such a situation in this day and age, but it happened, and if Alfred was being honest, he deserved every second of it.
He would be kept awake at night by the things he did in back then. A dumb, beefcake alpha who thought he ruled the school, terrorizing his poor teachers, mind clouded in the delusion that he owned every single person that walked the halls.
How many others had he trampled on?
“I’m sorry, Arthur, but don’t forgive me so easily.” Alfred found himself saying, voice hushed as his daughter snored softly by his ear. “What I did to you was not okay.”
The furrow between Arthur’s brows softened and he crossed his arms, tossing his head to the side with a gentler defiance. “You’ll regret giving me that kind of power.”
Alfred smiled. Just a little. “Make me work for it, Kirkland, do your worst.”
Of course, Alfred meant it as a joke, yet he found that he didn’t complain when Arthur quite literally printed a weekend work agenda for him the very next Monday. A long list of chores to help out at the camp, and Alfred got right to it, working until his forehead beaded with sweat and Arthur sat cackling at him from under a tree, trading bits of Amelia’s peanut butter and jelly sandwich for his own packed salad lunch.
At the very least, it wasn’t a scowl.
And when weekend work became sharing meals in local coffee shops to bitch about the camp managers, watching animated movies after work, with Amelia nestled in between- exchanging sweaters because Alfred’s were definitely warmer, then candle-lit dinners-
Alfred told Arthur that falling out of love was no longer an option.
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A Joyful Cup!
by Crooked Bear Creek Organic Herbs
With our non-stop, busy lives, it’s hard to find a quiet moment to relax and recharge. But even the practice of pouring a cup of tea can bring peace of mind – especially with the right herbs. Whether you take your tea at high noon or prefer a bedtime brew, these garden herbs provide the perfect mood-boosting cuppa.
Making and sipping a cup of tea is one of the easiest and most enjoyable self-care rituals. In fact, studies show that simply holding a warm cup {regardless of its contents} makes people friendlier and perceive the world in a more optimistic light. Add to that cup some relaxing and restorative teas, and the effects become even more powerful. As many gardeners will attest, stepping out into one’s very own backyard to harvest herbs for that cup of tea furthers a connection with nature, and you discover how deeply enjoyable plant empowerment can be. Looking for a tasty tea featuring herbs you can grow easily in your yard to soothe frayed nerves, help you sleep, or improve your energy? Here are some of my absolute favourites.
Holy Basil {Ocimmum tennuiflorum, syn. O. sanctum}
Also called tulsi, holy basil fits almost any niche you might need for your nervous-adrenal system. Aromatic and delicious with heady notes of clove, mint, and bubblegum, holy basil lends itself fresh or dry to hot and cold water. It quickly calms but gently energises, with effects that improve if you sip it regularly. As a stress-busting adaptogen, tulsi helps modulate the stress hormone cortisol, which also helps lower and balance blood sugar. The aromatics improve focus, lift the spirits, and ease anxiety. It blends well with other herbs too: peppermint for a perk, lemon balm for relaxation after dinner, rose to nourish the heart and spirit, and green tea for energy and stable blood sugar with a meal. Grow it as you would culinary basil: primarily as an annual in good soil with regular moisture, good drainage, and full sun. An Indian herb, it thrives in hot weather and tolerates containers. Harvest regularly, pinching back and using those prolific flowering stalks. Various species and varieties can be used interchangeably. The Kapoor/temperate {and often unnamed} variety grows most vigorously; new evidence suggests that it’s actually a variety of O. africanum, but most seed sellers still label it as O. sanctum. Homegrown or direct-from-the-farm dried tulsi is vastly superior to what is commonly sold in stores.
Lemon Balm {Melissa officinalis}
This is one of the most popular medicinal herbs cultivated in the garden – and for good reason: the perennial grows prolifically and has many uses, and it’s one of the most-revered nervine herbs to nourish and support the nervous system. It quickly eases anxiety and calms frayed nerves, agitation, hyperactivity, anger, and hypervigilance, yet it doesn’t over-sedate during the daytime and also uplifts the spirits, gladdens the heart, and improves focus. Studies have found it useful for memory, attention deficit hyperactivity disorder {ADHD}, and cognitive decline in children to seniors. Fresh or dry, hot or cold, lemon balm’s nice on its own, but tastes better and is more effective in combination with other herbs: holy basil for a calm-alert sate, mint for a pick-me-up, lemongrass or lemon verbena for lemony flavor, skullcap, and passionflower for sleep.
For tea: Dry lemon balm carefully – in a single layer or hanging with good airflow and not too much heat. It loses its lemon flavor pretty quickly once dried. Commercial dried lemon balm pales in comparison to home-grown or direct-from-the-farm.
Ashwagandha {Withania somnifera}
Compared to the other herbs mentioned in this article, ashwagandha takes a bit more time to grow and yields a smaller harvest because we use the roots. Taken daily, the adaptogen promotes deep energy and the strength, vitality {and yes, libido} of a stallion. It gently boosts thyroid function and also acts as a nervine. Some find it helps sleep. Simmer it with chai spices for tea or add the powder to hot milk with honey and nutmeg.
This Ayurvedic Indian herb prefers hot, sunny, somewhat dry spots with minimal competition from other plants. The size it reaches is a good indicator of how big the root harvest will be. Dig the roots in fall of the first year in cooler climates {it won’t survive winter} or wait until the second autumn in warmer zones 8 and up.
For tea: Scrub the roots clean in cold water, chop with clippers, and dry them in a single layer in a warmish spot with good ventilation or a dehydrator. It stinks as it’s drying, but the odour mellows with time. Once it’s dry, you can powder it by grinding it in a bullet blender and sifting through a fine-mesh strainer. Use caution if you have a hyperthyroid disease or are sensitive to nightshade family plants like potatoes and tomatoes.
Gotu Kola {Centella asiatica}
This plant hails from India and Sri Lanka, where it thrives in hot, soggy, rich soil in dappled sun. You can plant it as an annual or keep it in a pot to winter indoors, being mindful to water regularly. Gotu kola offers subtle yet profound benefits that accumulate when taken routinely for months at a time, particularly in high doses {up to an ounce per day}. It has gentle stress-relieving adaptogen properties, eases anxiety and jumpy nerves, but is most popular for its cognition-boosting and nerve-restoring effects. Rumour has it that the elephant’s diet of Gotu kola is why the animal has such a great memory! You can cook it as a leafy green, eat it fresh, or juice it. which is popular in its native lands.
For tea: While the flavor isn’t amazing, it’s bland enough to add to more palatable herbs like mint, holy basil, and lemon balm or broths cooked with garlic and onions. Use the leaves and all aerial parts.
Rose {Rosa spp.}
The petals add a splash of colour to tea blends to lift the spirits and encourage us to be kinder to ourselves. The aromatics of these petals extract well in cold water or seltzer {let a full fresh blossom or two steep for several hours}. I infuse them in a glass bottle so I can “stop and see and sip the roses” when I’m busy, stressed, and overworked. Any rose that smells and tastes good and isn’t sprayed with chemicals will do – typically these include wild and heirloom species such as the moderately invasive seaside {R. rugosa} as well as Damask {R. damascena}, apothecary {R. gallica var. officinalis}, and cabbage {R. centifolia} rose. You can forage invasive multiflora rose {R. muliflora}, but do not plant it.
For tea: Harvest buds, full blossoms, and fresh petals, preferably early in the day before the heat has cooked out the aroma. Dry buds and petals for tea in a single layer with minimal heat.
Skullcap {Scutellaria lateriflora}
This wild plant of the woodland water’s edge {growing among wild mint and bugleweed} prefers slightly damp, rich-to-sandy soil in partial to full sun. It can be a bit persnickety in the garden with good and bad years. When it thrives, harvest in abundance because it’s so useful, and good-quality skullcap is rare on the market. Skullcap has relaxing nervine properties well-suited for people who feel edgy, anxious, or hyperactive, as if their nervous system is in overdrive – when scents, sounds, and even touch make everything worse. When the sound of your bed partner’s breathing keeps you from sleeping and oncoming headlights make your migraine feel like someone’s stabbing you through the eyes – there’s skullcap. Combined with more sedative herbs like passionflower, it helps lull you to sleep. Paired with the gentle energising and focus effects of holy basil or lemon balm, it makes a lovely tea in daytime blends for anxiety. Occasionally {but rarely}, regular use can aggravate depression or prove too sedating for daytime use.
For tea: Harvest once aerial parts are in bloom and dry carefully to avoid blackening, placing them in a thin layer or hanging in a place with good airflow and not too much moisture or heat {ideally in the dehydrator at 95-100 degrees F or so}.
Passionflower {Passiflora incarnata}
Coming from the Southeast, where the sprawling vine can be a bit of a pest, passionflower produces stunning, otherworldly flowers, inspiring missionaries to name it after the Passion of Christ. Passionflower’s aerial parts cool, calm, and sedate, and it’s one of our safest and most effective sleep ease {much more pleasant tasting than valerian and hops!}, easily enhanced with some spearmint, lemongrass, holy basil, or other flavorful herbs.
Also, consider a little passionflower solo or in blends for anxiety, anger, frustration, agitation, and stress-induced hypertension – just be aware that some people find it too sedating for daytime use. You can cultivate passionflower in a warm full- to part-sun spot with decent moisture and good soil, allowing it to amble along a fence, arbour, or trellis. It does well in pots and greenhouses too and can overwinter indoors in cooler climates. As a perennial, zone 6 is the edge of its winter-hardy range.
For tea: Simply prune back vines with happy-looking, vibrant growth, ideally in flower. Use the entire vine – stem, leaves, and flowers. Dry on low heat in a dehydrator to ensure thorough drying of the flower middles or use fresh in other recipes like tinctures.
Flavor With Purpose
Alongside your “relax and revive” teas, consider planting tried-and-true flavorful herbs. Though they’re not as specific for the nervous system, they do impact your mood and the medicinal activity of your blends, and they’ll also make them more delicious.
Mint {Mentha spp.} has probably already tucked itself into some corner of your garden – or threatened to take it over with its ambitious root runners. Perhaps no other herb is as useful for delicious tea blends, hot or cold. Peppermint {M. x piperita} and chocolate mint {a peppermint variety} provide perky and alert properties backed by science. Spearmint {M. spicata} more gently supports cognition and focus and makes a nice flavouring agent for sleep blends as well. Use apple mint {M. suaveolens} much like spearmint, and feel free to play around with other mints, such as pineapple mint {which is quite tasty but may not survive cold winter climates} and banana mint. Bear in mind it spreads and can also interbreed into bland minty hybrids. Consider slowing it down by planting it in big pots or out-of-the-way spots, keeping different species a bit spaced apart.
Rosemary {Rosmarinus officinalis}, like peppermint, offers perky-alert properties but also has a bit of a bitter, piney, resinous edge that adds complexity to tea blends. It’s fine dried but tastes better fresh.
Lemon verbena {Aloysia citrodora} and Lemongrass {Cymbopogon citratus} taste vastly better than lemon balm, adding a pleasant lemon flavor to tea blends that lift and calms the spirits. Lemon verbena resembles lemon cake {especially if combined with vanilla bean or extract and steeped in not-quite-boiling water}, whereas you may recognise lemongrass’s tropical flavor from Thai soups and curry. Of all the lemony herbs, lemongrass holds its flavor the longest but will still lose quite a bit after a year. For tea, dry the grassy tops and then cut them into small pieces with sharp scissors. Freeze the tightly rolled bottom stalks for cooking, cordials, seltzer, and broth. I prefer to keep dried lemon verbena leaves whole to hold their flavor longer, adding a few to my teapot, water bottle, or mug. Both are nice with lemon balm, sleep blends, green tea, or vanilla. Grow these tropical herbs in a pampered garden bed or large pot with full sun, warmth, good soil, and regular water. They don’t like to be crowded by other plants. Be aware that lemongrass can give you a nasty paper cut.
Korean liquorice mint {Agastache rugosa} and Anise hyssop {A. foeniculum} grow into beautiful purple flower spikes that self-seed all over the garden, and they’re so yummy, pretty, and easy enough to pull up or move around that you won’t mind. The two are nearly indistinguishable, with a flower profile ranging from honey-fennel to fennel-mint. Medicinally, this mint-family herb soothes the throat and tummy and has gentle nervine, calming activity. It tastes delicious with almost any other green, leafy herb. It will grow in part shade to full sun, good soil and moderate moisture are most important for big, happy plants. The short-lived perennial will die off after a few years, but by then the babies will be ready to take off.
Harvesting, Drying and Storing Herbs
Harvest leaves {with or without flowers} when the plant looks, smells, and tastes its best, usually just before or after it begins flowering. Cut the top one-third to two-thirds of the plant, making sure to leave at least a few sets of leaves behind. They’re best trimmed right above a leaf node, but you can also grab a bunch of plant material together and give it a “bad haircut.” Keep them on the stem for drying. You can cut lemongrass’s grassy tops for tea this way or if you want to also harvest the thick stalks for other recipes, cut up to one-third of the plant right at the base.
Dry your herbs in a thin or single layer with good airflow until they’re crispy dry. You can use a dehydrator {set to 95-110 degree F for best results}, but good dehydrators are expensive and fill up quickly. Alternately, air-dry in bundles or on hanging screens {I love mt iPomelo hanging herb-drying rack}, but humidity may prevent your herbs from getting totally dry. You can also loosely pack a brown paper bag with herbs, cinch shut with a clothespin, and leave it inside the car windshield on a warm, sunny day {if it’s really hot, place it in a shady spot, a clean trunk, and/or crack the windows}. Sensitive herbs like basil, lemon balm, and skullcap may blacken and degrade via the brown bag method due to the heat and reduced airflow; use a dehydrator instead or air-dry and then crisp in the car if needed when the herb is mostly dry.
Once your herbs are totally crisp-dry {no bendy stems}, you can move the leaves from the stems by stripping with your hands or rubbing over a screen. Store in a clean, air-tight glass jar in a cool, dark, dry spot like a cabinet or pantry.
Tea Blends To Try
Sleep Tea: 1/2 teaspoon each passionflower, skullcap, lemon balm, and spearmint steeped in hot water for 15 minutes in a 4- to a 6-ounce teacup and sweetened with honey.
Perky Alert Blend: 1/2 teaspoon each peppermint, spearmint, lemon balm, and Gotu kola plus a sprig of fresh rosemary steeped in 16 ounces of hot water for 15 minutes.
Happy Day Infused Water: A few sprigs of fresh holy basil and one or two rose blossoms in a glass bottle of cold water, steeped for 2 or more hours {holy basil and rose also blend well hot and/or dry}.
Ashwagandha Golden Milk: Simmer 1 teaspoon ashwagandha roots in 16 ounces of hot whole milk, oat milk, or almond milk with 1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon turmeric powder and a pinch each of nutmeg and cardamom for 15 minutes. Strain and add honey or maple syrup to taste.
Ashwagandha Chai: Simmer 1 teaspoon ashwagandha with 2 cinnamon sticks, 2 cardamom pods, 1-star anise, and 5 cloves for 20 minutes. Strain and add milk/cream and sweetener if desired.
Happy Holy Lemon Tea: Combine equal parts lemon balm and holy basil fresh or dry in hot or cold water and let steep for 15 minutes. Exact quantities do not matter; it comes out nicely no matter what.
Good Morning, Tulsi: 1/2 teaspoon each holy basil and green tea {preferably jasmine green}, with a few optional lemon verbena leaves, steeped in 12 ounces of near-boiling water for 4 minutes.
Goddess Bless! GrannyMoon
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