#mal´s writing corner

[imeanyourmomsprettyhot]

this might sound weird, but could you write a story where aemond has a younger sister and he laid his eyes on her and one night he goes to her room and they just have a talk or something like that and it ends with smut?

Secret Visits || Aemond Targaryen

masterlist

about: female targaryen!reader, thigh riding, slight fingering, sex

summary: you are aemond's little sister and he visits you in your room after dinner.

all characters are of age!

Family dinner was barely something to look forward to. The only thing talked about for months, is the iron throne, princess Rhaenyra's children, and how Aegon is the true heir of the throne.

I eventually stopped listening to our mother's rage some time ago because I never really saw a point in it. Aemond seems to have the same way of thinking, as the only thing he does is look at me the whole time. He does that quite a lot in the past few months and every now and then, I reply with a smile, or I start a conversation with him.

Me and Aemond always were the closest among all of our siblings. We share the same interests and we actually enjoy spending time together. So it was no big surprise when he stood in front of my room the other night, and we read books by the fireplace. And it looks like he did the same this night.

When dinner was finally over, and we all left to get ready for bed, Aemond knocked on my door. I'm only wearing my thin, white sleeping gown, as I opened the door.

"Oh! Good evening, Aemond.", I smile at him.

It seems like he dismissed my guard.

"You shouldn't open your door, dressed in basically nothing, little sister. Only the gods know who could be standing in front of you."

"You're probably right.", I laugh.

Aemond is right with most of the things he says. It often makes me feel really stupid, to be honest.

"Is there anything you want from me?", I ask him, shivering at the cold air entering my room from the hallways.

A book appears from his back, that he now holds up to his chest.

"I know mother won't let you read about the great warriors of our house, so I brought this from the library for you., he softly taps the cover.

"By all the gods! You're amazing Aemond!"

He smiles at my excitement, as I let him into my room.

I sit down on the floor at the fireplace, while Aemond seats himself in one of the chairs. I immediately start reading the first chapter. I barely notice Aemond looking at me anymore, since I'm so used to it by now. I don't know why, but he seems to enjoy it, just sitting there and watching me read.

"Aemond?"

"Mhm?"

"What does it say here?", I ask, holding the book up to him.

Mother never allowed me to learn High Valyrian, so whenever there is a passage in one of my books, I have to ask my brothers for translation.

"Come here.", he waves his hand.

I get up and walk over to him, handing him the book. But with one quick motion, he pulled me onto his lap.

"You mean this?"

He points at a random sentence.

"No, this one-ahh."

A moan escaped my mouth as Aemond started grinding his thigh in between my legs. He holds onto my waist, slightly pushing and pulling me for- and backwards.

The pleasure from my clit moves through my whole body, and the book falls to the ground. And another moan slips through my lips.

"A-aemond...", I yearn for him.

He responds with his leg grinding faster. He increases the speed he makes my body move, as well. I'm not able to hold my moans back anymore. They fly over my lips, one by one.

"I want to hear you, princess.", he chuckles from behind my back.

My moans get louder, and I let him do whatever he wants to do with my body. I'm under his spell, fully.

He increases his speed even more, and I quickly feel my climax coming. I moan even louder as I finish on him. My body falls back, where Aemond catches me, his head right beside mine. I look him in the face.

"What are you doing?", I breathe heavily.

He keeps looking at me, a smile forming on his lips. With his hand, he pushes my head to the side, coming for my neck.

Aemond places rough marks on my skin, leaving me again with nothing but pleasure. At this moment, I start to notice the erection in his pants. He starts biting my skin, sending shivers down my spine, right to my pussy.

"You like that, don't you?", he smirks at my skin, "There's a large wet spot on my pants already."

He whispers in my ear. The vibration of his voice moves through my whole body. I goosebump, as his hand wanders down to my pussy. Aemond starts massaging my clit with his index finger, earning a loud gasp.

"Do you like that, little sister?", he mumbles.

I moan a 'mhm' as an answer. I crave more of this pleasure, so I try moving my hips upward, to get more of this ecstasy he puts in me. But Aemond presses my body on his, making me unable to move any further.

"Say it. Tell me how much you like this.", he huffs.

"Aemond, I like being touched by you.", another moan escapes my lips, "I want you, Aemond. Please!", I beg.

Within seconds, he made me stand up and turn around, sitting now legs-spread on his lap. He looks me in the eyes, biting his lower lip.

I'm so mesmerized by him that I didn't even notice, he opened his pants. He pushes me up, slightly, positioning his cock on my entrance. And with one motion, I am sat, his dick buried inside of me.

I gasp. So loud, the whole Red Keep must've heard it. Aemond presses his hand on my mouth.

"You have to be quiet, little sister. We don't want anyone to hear how good I fuck you, alright?"

I nod.

Slowly, I start bumping up and down, coating Aemond's shaft with my juice. His head falls back immediately, and he lets go of my mouth.

His cock throbs in between my folds, and the room is filled with Aemond's growls and my moans. With every time he enters me again, there's a new rush of pleasure running through my body. A new rush of energy that moves through us, over and over again.

I cry out, as his hand seizes the back of my neck, while his other hand caresses my back. Quickly, his mouth meets the skin of my throat once again, as his tongue runs up to my jaw. He licks my skin with such slight touch that I start to giggle from the tickling it sends to me, meanwhile the pleasure coming from between my legs.

Aemond now started to move his hips as well, shoving his cock even deeper inside me, pounding in and out with an even faster paste. I couldn't care for anyone hearing right now. There's no way I could hold my moans and my cries back any longer.

Aemond's groans get louder and deeper, while his thrusts get sloppier. My legs start to tremble beside him. I feel his dick pulsating, as my knees get weaker and weaker, and a knot in my stomach builds up.

It takes a few more thrusts of Aemond for the knot in my stomach to untie, as my climax rushes over me. For Aemond, it takes a few more whimpers from me, to take it over the edge, before he releases himself inside me.

"By all gods.", he pants heavily, "You're perfect, little sister."

Moments later, we still remain in the same position. His cock inside of me, still pulsating like crazy. Aemond started kissing me - very sloppily. His tongue twirling around with mine, and connected by a string of salvia.

[shit-talk-turner]

Prev. message board anon here. Managed to dig out some old screenshots. I've copied and pasted them here as don't want to come off anon. These are mainly related to Alex and were posted by the sound engineer (I think). They're just random messages, not in any sort of order. Enjoy!

matt kinda says hi (he's half asleep, poor guy) ive managed to survive another night with the guys, and sucessfully cooked dinner. as a reward they took me to the pub...nice one

theyre more like extended family. (al's gone home, jammie's still on't playstation with my bro and matts curled up asleep in my room, he looks like a cat) FINALLY I HAVE SOME PEACE AND QUIET!!!!!!!! yay!!! *me doing a little dance in joy*

if that happened, hed prolly try n find you a chair (he's kind like that) and then hed stand there and panic about what to do.

yeah. it was bad wasnt it. got to the stage where we were all making fun, leaving little post-its with "get a haircut" written on, and generally begging him to get a haircut. he did it eventually, and now he looks hot again and less like a scarecrow. thank god!

alex update: he is wondering what to have for lunch.

no. not yet. hes having a gingerbreadman while he thinks about it.

hes gone off to find timm to find out what time were having dinner (because our schedule for the days changed). he said if he knows when dinner is, then he can make a proper decision on lunch - whether he wants a snack or a whole meal......

alex update: him n jammie are sat on the edge of the stage looking at the choice of songs theyve been given for their performance on Radio 1's Live Lounge on monday. theyre gonna do brianstorm, and they have to pick one of the four songs theyve been given to cover. theyre choosing now...

alex update: he's scurrying about looking for a cd he lost. to be honest it could be anywhere. its not very tidy at the moment.... and i think someone mentioned watching anchorman later.....

alex update: reading a book (well hes trying to, but matt keeps distracting him....) and hes trying to think what the best sandwich in teh world is (thats matts question of the day)

alex update: he's sat in't corner writing summat and on the phone. im always curious when i see him writing, cuz i automatically assume that hes writing lyrics - and then i start thinking about what he's done today to think what the song might be about and then i really, really, really want to hear how it would go......all this, and then i ask him what he's writing and he shows me that he's either doing a crossword, or writing a cd shopping list, or summat dissapointing....

alex update: seemed quite happy when we last saw him. think he's gone to change. and i think he's coming out later. not sure if he'll be out with us though. he doesnt really know mal and cookies mates. they were in the year above us at school...

alex update: he's all packed and sat on the sofa reading the article about AM in this weeks NME. by his facial expressions, i can't work out what he thinks about it..... :S

alex update: ............ there are no words to describe him today.

he's sat out in the sun with everyone, and he's the most relaxed and normal that i've seen him in soooo very long i think he's so relieved that the album did well and people like it. he just looks relaxed and, dare i say it............. HAPPY. :) he deserves it.

alex update: he's most defniatly asleep. he had a busy night last night, and last time i saw him the poor thing was asleep on his feet...

alex update - the only one of the fab four that i can see at the mo. i asked him what he's doing so i could report on it, and he said "dont just say im lying on the floor waiting for the microwave. that sounds reet boring. say 'im reclining on the carpet in a relaxed fashion, clasping a piece of toast waiting for my beans to be done , and im donning my shades in a classy way' ....yeah, that makes it sound a bit better. or do i just sound like a knobhead? okay, cut that bit out. just say....just say im eating. again. im always eating when youre typing......hmmm"

and that was all i could get from the fascinating Mr Turner, before the microwave "pinged"....

alex update: he's chilling with miles and some friends, havign a drink and watching some bands.

after the set, we all got a little bi too drunk, met up with James Ford (producer, and from simian mobile disco), james + simon (klaxons), lily allen, lovefoxx, a kook and some others (there was about 20 of us) and we wanted to go out at night to Lost Vague-ness (the most random field at glastonbury) but they didnt want to be noticed and harrassed, so we hired these random costumes. alex was a dinosaur, james was a swan, there was a chicken, a moose, me and lily were mushrooms...... was truley hilarious.

[its not really "news" but we just had a fight. a proper standing in the rain, shouting ourselves hoarse, having to be separated argument. thats the only problem with me and al, were too similar. SO stubborn, and a tendency to take things too personally and get a bit irrational. the basics, i was trying to be a good friend and tell him summat, he wasnt listening, we both said things we prolly shouldn't have, and then were taken away to calm down. it'll all be fine by the morning, thats just how we roll. but for tonight, im not gonna pretend were okay.]

the internet was once such a wild and lawless place

[petalouda85]

Promise

Fandom: Blades of Light and Shadow 2

Pairing: Tyril x f!human!MC (Kassandra)

Word count: 3.4k

AO3 link: x

Concept: victory over the Ash Empress quickly turns to tragedy. Tw: character death, use of alcohol to cope with grief, s**cidal thoughts

Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations, @liviusofpella, @starlight-starfury, @megas-choices

A/N: not the fic I thought I’d finish first after Book 2 ended but I also wouldn’t be me if I didn’t write something absolutely heart wrenching once in a while. Rest assured, next fic will be a lot happier.

In case it was missed: TW for character death, alcohol use to cope with grief and s**cidal thoughts. If these make you uncomfortable, feel free to skip; I understand that these can be difficult topics for people.

When Tyril opened his eyes, he winced, the bright sky and sun causing the ache in his head to pulse more strongly. He covered his eyes but smiled ever so slightly; he had not not expected to see those beacons of hope above him. Throughout the battle, the Ash Empress had cast a dark cloud overhead, frightening the warriors of Morella and spurring on the Ashen army. It had flickered in and out of existence as she was attacked and retaliated but with one burst of power, the darkness seemed permanent. But the dark blanket was now gone without a trace.

Upon adjusting, he sat up, looking out over the wide expanse of the battle field, a small smile quirking at his lips.

The Ashen soldiers were scattering, running through the portal back to the Shadow Realm while the Elves, Goblins and Dwarves spurred them on.

As the last of the Ashen disappeared, a deafening silence fell over the battlefield, only the screeches and caws of the ravens and crows above breaking the silence.

He spotted a figure dressed in priestly robes lying in the grass nearby, slowly getting up and clasping at her head, blood streaming down her face.

“Nia.” He whispered, quickly dashing to her and dropping to his knees, examining the wound, a deep gash above her eyebrow. Nia looked at him with weary and dazed eyes.

“I’m alright, Tyril.” She said assuringly. “I just bumped my head.” He quickly held his hand over her cut, the skin closing underneath his magic.

“That’s better.” Nia gave a faint smile.

“Thank you. Where are the others?” She quickly asked.

“Alright, up you get.” Tyril turned his head in the direction of Imtura’s voice. She was not too far away, sporting many cuts on her arms and a few on her face. She had swung Mal’s arm over her shoulder and helped him stand up, which is when the elf spied the rogue’s broken leg. Slowly, the two made their way over to the elf and priestess, relieved smiles on their faces.

“Hey elf boy, priestess. Glad to see you still among the land of the living.” Mal smirked but his jovial expression immediately fell. “Where’s Kassandra?”

Tyril’s head snapped to attention, turning to the last spot he had seen her, the images he saw before being knocked out flashing before his eyes. The golden armor dulled, hands grasped onto the Empress’ face, an impossible stream of Light emanating from them, face twisted in pain and determination as the Empress’ hand smashed past the armor and into her chest before an explosion of Light had blinded and thrown him and the others back, his vision going black moments later.

In the same space was now a spot of black charred grass, a pile of ash gradually blowing away with the wind, and laying nearby, face down in the grass, was a body encased in gold armor, unmoving.

“No.” He muttered desperately, struggling to remain on his feet as he ran to the body, his chest filling with dread. “No. Please. Not like this.” He fell to his knees adjacent to it and turned it over, the sight making him gasp.

Kassandra’s face was marred with cuts and bruises, a trail of blood trickling out the corner of her mouth. Her hair was matted with blood and dirt. The runes on her armor had faded, the enchantment gone with them, and a hole where the Ash Empress had dug her claws in was left behind, blood and Shadow rot dripping out from the gaping wound on her chest.

“NIA!” He cried, finding the Priestess already running towards them, the others in tow. Nia dropped to her knees and immediately, her hands began to glow with healing light. But the blood didn’t stop flowing, the Shadow still permeating. Tears formed in the Priestess’ eyes.

“It’s not working.”

Tyril placed his hand over the wound, concentrating and willing the wounds to be healed but they remained.

“No. Why is it not working?” He whispered.

“It must be the Empress’ doing. It must be.” Nia wept, holding her hand desperately over the wound once more. Her brow furrowed as she concentrated, Tyril sensing a magical but invisible energy surround them. She concentrated and concentrated, her jaw tight, her teeth grinding but the wound remained unchanged. She released the magic, a tear running down her face.

“No.” She whispered, shakily placing her hand to Kassandra’s throat. Immediately, Nia’s eyes widened. “Kassandra?” She gasped. Ever so slowly, Kassandra’s eyes opened, her gaze soft but unfocused.

“Kassandra?” Tyril whispered, cupping her cheek with his own bloodied hand.

“Tyril?” Kassandra’s voice was soft and weak. She turned her head to face him, though her gaze remained unfocused. “Is that you?” He nodded fervently.

“Yes. I’m here. We all are.” Gently, he lifted her up, supporting her head in the crook of his elbow so she could see their companions stand by her. Injured but alive. She smiled weakly at them.

“Hi.”

“Hey, Kit.” Mal teased, leaning heavily on Imtura. “How you holding up?" Kassandra looked down at the hole in her chest.

"I've had worse." She joked, a few snickers emanating through the group. She looked up at the sky, seemingly surprised to see the blue color. “Is it over?” Tyril nodded.

“It’s over. You did it, Kassandra. You won.” She looked at him and smiled.

“No. We won.” The elation on her face quickly faded. “The barrier… I can’t close it. And Valax can’t close it alone. The world will stay as it is.” She lifted her bloodied hand, gazing at it before looking once more at the hole in her chest. She let out a breath, leaning her head into his chest before letting out a small sob. “I wish I was in Undermount.” She wept softly. “I would’ve loved to have seen it one last time.” Tears forming in his eyes, Tyril gently turned her face so she looked at him again, forcing a calm face for her sake.

“Then let’s imagine it. Let’s imagine our return to Undermount.” She looked up to the blue sky, briefly closing her eyes as the sun’s warm beams shined down on her wan face.

“I think it would be a warmer welcome this time. No trouble at the gate and the streets flocked with elves wanting to see the heroes of Morella. We’d push through the crowd to your home. It’s restored and renewed, shining in the light. Beautiful.” She smiled faintly at the image as she struggled to take a deep breath. “Your father and sister at the door. Adrina would hug us and she’d tease you so much.” The thought made Tyril chuckle.

“Relentlessly.” He caressed her cheek, her skin cold and clammy. “I’d take you to the Masquerade and I’d dance all night with you.”

“And kiss me on the floor?” He nodded.

“And declare you my Dinvalir and Kilvalir. The scandal we’d cause.” She giggled at the thought, her smile still so beautiful.

“And drink honey wine?”

“So much that we’d make Threep jealous.”

“Not that difficult to do.” She chuckled though a tear ran down her cheek. The light mood quickly became heavy once more. “You have to keep going. You all do.” He shook his head, tears finally rolling out of his eyes.

“I can’t do it without you.” He said, his voice shaking. The year she had been gone was torture for him. There had been days where he couldn’t move, couldn’t think, her absence having left a dark void in his heart and mind. Hope that she was still alive had kept him going. Now, such hope was not possible. She was slipping away from him and he couldn’t stop it, no more than he could stop water from slipping through his fingers. Slowly, she reached up, briefly cupping his cheek.

“Yes, you can. You’re so strong, Tyril. So much stronger than you realize. You still have so much to give to this incredible world we live in. Travel, learn, protect those who can’t protect themselves.” She dropped her hand to her chest, clasping his hand weakly and bringing it over to rest over her heart. “Promise me, Tyril.” She whispered. “Promise me. Promise me, Uluvalir.” He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a few of his tears dripping onto her cheeks when she barely returned the gesture. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against hers, letting out a shaking breath.

“I promise.” He whispered before pulling back. She tried to reach up her hand again but it soon fell back to rest on her chest, her strength waning.

“Take care of the others for me. And take care of Kade. Tell him that I’m sorry.” She took a deep, quivering breath, looking at Nia when the priestess took her hand. “Live.” She said, forcing herself to speak louder. She took in another breath, shallow and quick, before looking to Imtura and Mal. “Live for me.”

“Of course, Kassandra.” Nia nodded.

“Always.” Mal responded, nudging Imtura. The two hobbled closer, getting down on their knees next to their companions.

“It’s been an honor fighting with you.” Imtura said with a quivering voice, laying her hand over Nia’s. Soon, Mal’s hand joined as did Tyril’s. Kassandra’s eyes seemed to gaze through them but her smile remained warm.

“What a beautiful family.” She whispered before a faint gasp escaped her lips, her eyes losing focus, her chest becoming still.

For a moment, all was silent, the friends unmoving. With a shaking hand, Tyril reached up and closed Kassandra’s eyes, letting out a strangled sob; she looked so peaceful, he could almost convince himself she was only sleeping. He felt a hand on his shoulder, finding Nia’s eyes red, her composure cracking. She opened her mouth, likely to try to say something comforting but nothing came out and she bowed her head in grief. Mal’s face was stoic but it too was breaking, a tear forcing itself out while Imtura seemed to shake, her fists clenched, her jaw tight.

“Kassandra!” A familiar voice cried.

The four friends turned their heads to the noise, finding Aerin bounding up the hill, Valax on his heels. They skidded to a stop, staring at the scene, horror clouding Aerin’s face.

“Is she…?” His voice shook. Tyril found himself staring at the former prince’s face, finding traces of the love and affection he’d sent in Kassandra’s direction when he thought no one was looking. Another rush of tears flowed from the elf’s eyes as he shook his head; he could hear the prince’s gasp just barely over the sound of his own shattering heart.

As Adrina and the rest of their allies climbed the hill, Tyril watched as Valax turned briskly on her heels and ran towards the portal, the elf spying sorrow and hurt in her eyes in the brief moment he saw her face.

As the Ash princess disappeared through the portal, Adrina had reached the top of the hill, gasping at the sight that greeted her. The siblings exchanged a look; nothing needed to be said, the heavy air conveying the tragic news to her.

Tears in her eyes, Adrina lowered herself to one knee, laying her weapon down and bowed her head reverently to Kassandra. She was soon joined by Cherta and Willow and Aerin and slowly, one by one, the entire army kneeled before them; the sight would’ve been beautiful in any other circumstance, Tyril told himself bitterly as he tightly embraced the body of his lost love.

The days passed in a blur. Seconds became hours, and hours felt like weeks.

A funeral occurred only days later. It was an elaborate ceremony, no expense being too great for the noble hero who sacrificed herself for the realm. The king and many others spoke eloquently and gratefully about her, exalting her virtues and praising her bravery and sacrifice.

“They could never do her justice.” Tyril thought bitterly after the king finished speaking. “She was divine, celestial. She outshone the stars and now, the stars will bow to her for she is greater than them all.”

He forced his way through the ceremony, keeping his jaw tight, fists clenched and shaking slightly; his friends remained close to him, placing supportive hands on his shoulder and whispering words to spur him through the remainder of the ceremony.

After the funeral, he shut himself in his room and he finally let the overwhelming, raging anger out. Smashed vases, broken mirrors, ripped sheets, chipped and charred wood. When there was nothing left to receive his anger, he had collapsed onto the floor, clawing at his head and hair, tears soaking the carpet. He must’ve been loud because shortly after, Adrina had found him in his pathetic state. He didn’t remember much of what happened after. He had a vague recollection of being guided to the chair by the fireplace, a crackling of a spell in the air, restoring the room to its correct state, and a blanket being placed over his shoulders. There had been a muffled voice and a warm hand holding his but he had not reacted, staring at the flames in the hearth.

He remained there, still as a statue, ruminating, not moving even after his sister had given up on pleading with him. After an eternity, she had left, a whisper of a promise to return on her lips as she shut the door.

Somehow, he snapped out of his catatonic state enough to summon a servant to his room. In a monotone voice, he requested wine to be brought to him, a deep craving for alcohol forming in him. The servant returned with the requested item soon enough, Tyril glad that the human had enough sense to bring the bottle too.

It didn’t last the night.

Another bottle was brought the next night and it too was soon empty, the liquor bringing him the numbness he desired. With every drink, another tear fell, his mind repeating the same thought over and over.

First his mother, then Kaya, and now Kassandra. Why were they the cost for all he’d done?

The empty bottle was placed on the table next to his chair, it quickly removed by the servant when they brought more of the requested drink. He didn’t move much from the chair, not that he had the energy to do much else. The days had become a blur, night turning into day and back to night in a matter of seconds. His sister and his friends came by at times, bringing food and water and taking away the untouched plates and cups. They spoke to him, though he never listened to them enough to hear what was said. One word answers in the same monotonous tone were all he could manage.

For days, he remained in the chair, the cycle of friends visiting and servants bringing him his requests continuing. Briefly, he thought that he must’ve been a sight to behold in this stupor. Hair disheveled, clothing wrinkled, eyes red with large bags underneath, wine never far. It was a far cry from the proper lord he once was.

He downed the glass of wine he had in his hand - he wasn’t certain how many he had had already that evening; he stopped counting after the third glass. The liquor went down with ease, adding another delicious layer of numbness. Once the final drops were out of the cup, he placed it down on the table next to him and turned his gaze to the ornate box adjacent to the glass.

He had discovered it on top of one of the dressers many moons ago but it had not crossed his mind until more recent times; in a brief moment out of his catatonia, he had retrieved it and placed it near him. Slowly, he undid the clasp and lifted the lid.

Inside was an ornately decorated knife, it lying beautifully on top a pillow of velvet; another display of the king’s wealth, meant to be admired, not used.

Gently, he took the blade out of the box, it staying loosely in his hand. He turned it in his hand, examining the details on the hilt and the blade itself. It was very beautiful, he had to admit. He continued to stare at it, the firelight reflecting in the blade, the sharpness looking rather inviting.

You have to keep going. Promise me, Tyril. Promise me.

“Why would you make me promise something like that?” He muttered, no tears coming out; he had run out hours ago. Memories flashed across his mind, the happiness in them mocking him. That fateful first meeting in Port Parnassus, the conversation by the railing on the Sun Maiden, their first kiss in the Deadwood, dancing in Undermount, the balcony in Whitetower, the wonderful moment he held her again after that long and lonely year.

His grip on the knife tightened as the memory of the final fight against the Shadow Court flashed before him. That one final moment before opening the door to the ritual chamber. He had kissed her, convinced that it would be the last one.

“I want to live, Kassandra. I want to live for you.” He had told her in that moment. “What is there to live for now?” He mumbled, his grip loosening.

Another memory came to him as he continued to stare at the knife, the flame reminding him of the heat of the moment and the desert they had been in. He replayed it a few times in his mind, every whisper of Dinvalir causing yet more aches. He clawed through the memory once more when a moment within gave him pause.

Sometimes I hate my sense of duty.

I love your sense of duty.

He froze, the knife slipping from his grasp, the tip embedding itself into the floor. His lips began to crack as a smirk made its way to his face, a realization hitting him.

“Clever Kassandra.” He whispered. “Clever, clever Kassandra.” She had known him so well. Even as she lay dying, she thought of his well-being and his future, appealing to his sense of duty in her final moments. He would’ve given her anything, she had known that; ask for a star and he would’ve gifted her the night sky. She had asked for him to keep going, had him promise to keep going and in doing so, she had made it his duty to keep going.

He retrieved the knife from the floor, the sharpness no longer as inviting as before. He stared at it for a few more moments before placing it back on the pillow, slamming the lid shut and placing the latch back in place. He felt discomfort in his knees as he stood up, taking the box off the table and slowly walking to the nearest dresser, opening the top compartment and shoving the box in, slamming the compartment shut once more.

He shuffled to the table and turned the cup upside down. He stared at the chair for a moment but he turned away, going to stand before the fireplace, leaning one hand on the mantle. He stared into the fire, an unexpected tear forming in his eye.

Promise me, Tyril.

Her voice sounded clear in his mind and his imagination played a beautiful trick as he felt a ghostly touch on his shoulder, the sensation eventually moving and embracing him from behind, the phantom ethereal touch beaming with reassurance. It made him smile so slightly, imagining that the touch was her. He let out a long breath, imagining the ethereal hand being placed over his heart as a lightness he hadn’t felt in some time rushed through him.

“The path ahead won’t be easy.” He whispered like a prayer. “The road was much clearer with you beside me. I don’t know what’s next for me. I don’t know what the future holds. It’s all obscured in a thick mist and traversing it without your guiding light terrifies me.” He paused, the imagined hands embracing him more tightly. “I will traverse it and I hope that you stand by me when I do, even when I can’t see you or feel your touch. I know it won’t be easy. But for you? I will try.” He placed his own hand over his heart.

“I promise.”

[grishaverse-chaos]

I might be in a very small minority here, but I actually really don't want Alina to have a corruption arc in any future seasons of s&b! (Mostly because I hate the trope of victims becoming just like their abusers, and it seems to me that that's where the show is going with her arc)

So here's what I want for her. (Under a cut because it got longer than I thought it would)

I want her to be angry and terrified about her new powers. I want her to be furious that the Darkling gave her his powers - one final act of violation that means she will never be able to forget him, no matter how hard she tries. I want her to be scared, constantly. I want to see her break down in tears after killing the Fjerdan assassin, because she didn't know she had his powers and is she turning into him? I want her to be scared of the adrenaline rush she gets whenever she uses her new powers. To refuse ever to use them again.

I want her to have PTSD. Nightmares. I want to see her wake up in the middle of the night, tears running down her face because she dreamed that the Darkling came back and forced her to train her shadow powers. I want her to reach for Mal only to remember that he's not there anymore - and maybe she wonders, is it her fault he's gone? Maybe he knew that she would turn evil. Maybe, just like the Darkling, she's going to push away everyone she loves.

I want Nikolai to transform into the demon, and Alina to see it and have a panic attack because what if that means the Darkling's back? I want her to talk to Zoya, and ask how she manages to stay so fucking calm all the time. I want Zoya to break down when there's nobody around but Alina, and tell her that even if she seems fine, she's terrified, looking around every corner to check for shadows. I want Zoya to confess that she fears becoming just like the Darkling, and Alina to reply "try having his powers"

I want them to bond over their fear, and each promise to pull the other out if they ever do start becoming like him. I want Alina to retreat further and further from the throne because she doesn't trust herself with power, and Zoya to step forward because even if she doesn't trust herself with power, she wants to test herself, to prove to herself that she is nothing like him.

I want Alina to be completely unstable, to panic every time she's in trouble and has to defend herself. I want her to stop using her Sun Summoning because she's afraid that even that might make her more like him, and I want her to get sick from it. I want her to be on the edge of collapsing at any given moment.

I want Nikolai to not notice a single thing about how Alina's breaking down, because he's busy and has a kingdom to run. I want Alina to scream at him and tell him that he's one of the only people in the whole country who actually gives a shit about her so can he act like it? I want him to look at her for the first time in months and realise that oh shit, his best friend is dying. I want him to write to Mal, begging him to come back, because as much as he wants to be able to save Alina himself, he can't.

I want Mal to come back and tell Alina everything she needs to hear. I want him to convince her that her light is beautiful, that it is nothing like the Darkling's shadows, that she is nothing like him. I want her to bury her face in his chest and break down in tears, because she almost forgot how good he is at saying the right thing when she needs him. I want him to offer to take her away from Court, and her to protest, saying that she can't leave.

I want Mal to stick around, and while he's still there, Alina to tell Zoya about his offer. I want Zoya to tell her to take it, to go while she still can, before the wedding. (And if Zoya's saying this partly because she and Nikolai have gotten closer while Alina's been having her mental breakdown, and she doesn't love the fact that he's engaged to somebody else... well, Alina kind of guessed that anyway. She's happy for them.)

I want her and Mal to run away. Maybe they fake her death, maybe she just leaves. Either way, they don't go back to Keramzin. (That would require them to confront exactly how messed up their childhood had been.) Instead, I want Zoya to suggest something that the Little Palace desperately needs - something she knows the pair of them would be good at.

I want them to start a new orphanage, on the outskirts of Os Alta, for Grisha orphans. The Little Palace simply isn't equipped to handle children who aren't being raised into soldiers, and most Grisha children stay at home now, unless they or their parents want them to learn control over their powers. Grisha orphans, on the other hand, have nowhere to go but the Little Palace - so Zoya and Genya work on creating a school, and the orphans Mal and Alina are raising go there to study every day, then come back home to the orphanage. I want Alina to start using her powers again. Slowly at first - creating little balls of light that she plays with when she's alone. Then I want her to remember how much she loves using her powers, how much joy and euphoria it brings her. I want her to become happy and confident in her powers again, and return to full health. (She won't ever be completely comfortable with the shadow powers she got from the Darkling, but one day she uses them with the kids - making shadow pictures on the wall one evening, and she realises that even with his powers, she can do good. She can make them her own.)

I want the news to spread about this. Do people know that it's the Sun Summoner running the orphanage? Maybe, maybe not. Whether or not they know, the orphanage gets more and more well-known. Otkazat'sya parents decide to send their children there so they can study at the Little Palace. After all, they've heard of the couple that owns it, and they seem trustworthy enough. I want Mal and Alina to recruit a team of Fabrikators to help them build an extension onto the building so there's enough room for all the new arrivals.

I want adult Grisha - rogue Grisha, many of them - to stop at the orphanage if they're in need. Whether they've been injured or fallen ill, they ran out of food, they just need a place to sleep for the night - they come to the orphanage. They know it's safe. Some of them have no home to go back to once they leave. I want Mal and Alina to offer them a permanent place to stay at the orphanage. Almost everybody accepts the offer. Many of them find they have something they can teach the kids - whether that's a special trick you can do with specific Grisha powers, or something else (a dish they love to cook, a sport they played as a child, their favourite place to shop in Os Alta) - the children learn eagerly from each new arrival.

And I want Alina to realise, after a few years, that the orphanage has become a sanctuary for Grisha of all ages. I want her to wonder briefly if that makes her like the Darkling. He'd wanted to create a sanctuary for Grisha. Then I want her to look around at the happy children, at the older Grisha entertaining the younger kids, and realise that she succeeded where he had failed. She and Mal have created a safe place where Grisha aren't being thrown into battle. Sure, some of the children from the orphanage grow up and join the integrated army (the First and Second Armies have been combined into one army. Ravka is stronger together, and that's reflected by the army defending it) - but nobody is ever forced into military service.

I want her to know that, without even meaning to, she has become not only the Darkling's equal, but she has become better than him. She has made the country safer for Grisha. Not him. Her and Mal. She and Mal changed the world. (Again.)

[shadestepping]

The Bad Batch- Trespass: “Crossroads”, pt. 2

Word Count: 3,179 Characters: Crosshair, Trinn Kryze (Original), Captain Mal Kryze (Original), Commander Reina Darr (Original) Date: 9 rotations after “Kamino Lost” Themes: NO romance, NO smut, simply a “what if” AU with OC’s- My purpose(s) for writing this specific fic were simple: I wanted to get a better picture of what was going through Crosshair’s mind in Season 1, and I wanted to write a fic that told the story of what could and would have happened if he had deviated from the canon path, and gotten out from under the Empire’s control sooner rather than later. This starts with the decision to get off Kamino rather than sit and wait for the Empire to come looking for him. One crossroad leads to another, and each decision made steers him toward a better future- one of redemption and a life of his own making.

Synopsis: Crosshair is found by the crew of the Trespass, and offered a lift off of Kamino.

Archive link: [ Crossroads ] [ Part 1 ]

Mandalorians? Was he having a fever dream? 

Well, this was certainly a surprise.

Crosshair stopped in his tracks and took a suspicious step back from the approaching craft. Of all the wayward ships he’d theorized might have picked up his distress beacon, the Night Watch—who had been busy staging their own uprising against the Empire on Mandalore, at least twelve thousand parsecs from Kamino—wasn’t even an honorable mention. 

There was no reason for them to be out this far on the opposite side of the outer rim. And even if they were already within range, the reasons why the rogue warriors of House Vizsla would respond to an Imperial distress beacon were few- most of which did not bode well for his survival. 

An Imperial Commander ranked high on the rebellion’s list of targets, not only as a necessary piece to remove from the board, but as a valuable source of intel. Fortunately for him, all commandos had been rigorously trained to resist interrogation; unfortunately , he’d just spent nine days exposed to constant battering rain, on minimal nutrition and little-to-no sleep. He was starving, sick, weak and paranoid, and high on his last stims. Even the most hardened ARC’s would crack if their Jedi General was to get her hands on them in this state.

Suddenly his ticket off Big Stormy didn’t look so appealing.

Cross squinted, shakily slipped a toothpick into the corner of his mouth, and kept a safe distance from the edge. “You’re a long way from Mandalore,” he drawled with pointed apprehension.

“And you look mighty miserable, standin’ there all by your lonesome.” She grinned with such familiarity it made his stomach churn. “Why don’tcha come in outta the cold and we’ll take you to the nearest starport?”

Hunger pains nipped at his resolve but he didn’t bite. He shifted the pick from one corner of his mouth to the other and further narrowed his eyes as she moved between the support pistons.

“Somethin’ wrong, trooper?”

“You could say that,” he answered with a crooked nod. “Why are you here?”

The Mandalorian furrowed her brow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

“ Humor me .”

“We were passin’ through and picked up your distress beacon,” she explained as the freighter lowered just enough for him to hop onto the ramp, if he chose. “Ain’t seen hide nor hair of anyone else for at least ten parsecs… nonna whom were rushin’ to Kamino to respond to an Imperial in distress, anyway.”

And there it was, the hook: no ships in range that would consider braving the Kaminoan storms to rescue one lone Imperial. If the Night Watch were convinced enough that they were safe risking a stop, then the Empire really must have abandoned the system.

One arm trembled as he crossed and tucked it under the other, a tell that he needed food and rest soon. “And why did the Night Watch decide to rush to my aid?” he sneered. “Are you really doing this out of the goodness of your hearts? Or are you just hoping for a hostage?”

She was taken aback by the heat in his assumption, but he wasn’t wrong to be skeptical of their intentions. The Night Watch was about as friendly to the Empire as the Republic had been to the Confederacy during the Clone Wars, and it was unheard of for Mandalorians to offer help to their enemies.

“We heard comm chatter about Tipoca’s destruction, so when we saw where your beacon was comin’ from, we didn’t really think twice. The clones helped us once, and we wanted to return the favor.”

He was almost inclined to believe her. These do-gooder rebels were known to have taken in clone deserters and sympathetic parties. If they weren’t looking for a hostage, they were probably hoping to convert one more disillusioned soldier to their cause, the irony of which wasn’t lost on him. They would have had better luck recruiting Clone Force 99 into their ranks, had they come across his brothers rather than him. Swearing allegiance to the Night Watch would have been an easy transition for men in their position- aside from fulfilling their need to ‘do the right thing’, they’d have the security of the clan to protect Omega, stable sources of food and work, and clarity of purpose-

All of which he could have provided, had they just returned to the Empire.

The Empire that had just destroyed their home? The Empire that turned their noses up at the very soldiers who had single-handedly eradicated the Jedi and seized control of the entire Galaxy with one order? The Empire that had made it very clear that the future of their service, their very survival, was not guaranteed…?

Why in the nine hells had he chosen this over his family? For purpose, for stability, for influence ? Fat lot of good that had done him.

Crosshair grimaced, reached up and pressed the heel of his hand into the piercing headache as it shot through his temporal lobe. He hadn’t had a single independent thought that went unpunished, nor a moment of painless clarity, since his chip had activated. 

“... hey- you okay?”

“Do I look okay ?”

He caught the way her face lit up in recognition out of the corner of his eye but didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t need her sympathy—it wouldn’t have helped him anyway—and he didn’t want her empathy. 

A deeper feminine voice boomed from inside the cargo hold, beckoning Trinn to get inside and close the hatch so they could leave. After gesturing back to them to ‘Give me a minute’, she turned her attention back to him and tried again.

“Look- I can only imagine the week you’ve had, but I’d hope you’d still have enough sense t’not look a gift-fathier in the mouth.”

“I’ll take my chances,” he replied before he could change his mind. Leaving now—after all that time spent gaining ground with Rampart—would be a waste, and he wasn’t about to concede.

“You sure? Maker knows when your next chance will be. Do you really want to sit here for another…” Her voice trailed off and she rolled a shrug to illustrate.

Fierfek , she was right. Not even pirates or scrappers would have bothered withstanding Kamino’s hazards for the promise of a mediocre payday. Crosshair’s throat bobbed at the thought of being stuck on Kamino any longer. Due to his accelerated metabolism, he was already running dangerously low on rations, despite his best efforts to make them last. He could stretch them maybe another week if he bit off just enough to keep himself from starving to death, but he could already feel the weakness creeping into his bones. He was losing muscle density, ketosis was setting in. At this rate, it was either stay and risk an unpleasant death, or leave and possibly be taken prisoner. Had he been at full strength, he had no doubt he would be able to fight back in the case of the latter, but the number of soldiers aboard the craft was an unknown variable. 

And who knew if the Empire would really be back.

His voice cracked as he forced the question. “You’ll take me to the closest starport, no strings attached…?”

“So long as you don’t rat us out.”

The lines in his forehead crinkled, arms dropped and balled his fingers into fists at his sides. He’d have plenty of time to rehearse the conversation with Admiral Rampart about how he had gotten his team killed and survived an orbital bombardment on a city that was now completely underwater. Lying about Clone Force 99’s survival wasn’t an issue, but crawling back empty-handed yet again wouldn’t earn him any favor. At the rate his failures were piling up, he’d be lucky to get an early retirement.

Don’t fool yourself- all you'll ever be to them is a number.

Trinn’s boots scraped as they shifted against the durasteel and turned away. “Fine, I’ll just tell my pilot to turn around-”

“ No ,” he finally conceded with a low, snarling growl. If the objective was survival, the strategy was obvious: control what you can. Even if he ended up in a cell, he’d have food and shelter. His odds of survival were better if he took the gamble of leaving with sympathetic enemies. 

So long as he gave them no reason to distrust him, and nothing to work with. 

Vertigo hit him as he lunged onto the swaying ship. One leg staggered and buckled, and he hit the deck hard as Trinn reacted and reached for his forearm. It slipped out of her grasp until her hand caught at the neck of his wrist and tightly gripped the plating over his hand. His body lurched with all of his weight pulling at his shoulder socket, and whipped his head around to bring him face-to-face with the Kaminoan deep. Sickness rose in his gut as the swell crashed beneath him, and just as he started to black out, he was yanked back into the safety of the cluttered cargo hold with incredible ease. Crosshair groaned as he hit the ground and pressed his fingers into his eyes, writhing on the vibrating floor beneath him.

Another heavier pair of boots approached him from across the room and came to a stop inches from his face, and he looked up into the face of a behemoth of a Mandalorian woman—as thick as he was tall, yet dwarfed him in presence alone—staring down at him with a steely blue, unyielding gaze. Impervious didn’t even begin to describe her.

“Weapons off, Comms and beacons out the ship,” she demanded with a curt nod over his shoulder.

Crosshair sat back on his heels. “Is that really necessary ?”

“Not dealing with you reneging on our agreement, or having your Imperial friends tag us mid-flight.”

He couldn’t fault them for being thorough, but he still hesitated and grimaced in protest as he pushed himself to his feet. He reached for the backup deecee pistol first, then Hunter’s knife which he’d tucked into the plate over his calf, and set them down on the fold-out lockup bench to the left of him. As he reached for his Firepuncher, he leaned forward to give it enough room to swing over his head without hitting the bulkhead, and set it down next to the others with a more reverent touch. 

“Commpad and distress beacon.”

Crosshair grit his teeth and held her gaze with a curled upper lip, unclipped the comm-pad from his vambrace and thrust it out the ship behind him into the raging sea. “Beacon’s wired to the power in my kit.”

“I’ll handle it.” Trinn stepped up behind him and unseated the pack from the mag-plate in his cuirass, then motioned him forward and raised the loading ramp as the muscly woman reached for the vibro-blade and let out a low whistle of approval. 

“I want that back,” he muttered under his breath as he pushed past her into the staging area of the cargo bay and smothered the urge to share that it held sentimental value.

The redhead gripped the hilt and flipped it around and over between her fingers with practiced ease, testing the balance with marveled interest. “Who wouldn’t ?” 

Trinn set his pack down at the workbench against the wall to the right and raised her commpad to signal to their pilot. 

“Sentry-one, we’re clear.”

“ Copy .”

The miniscule shift of directional force as the ship departed the platform disrupted his equilibrium mid-step. One hand instinctively reached for the bulkhead handrail but he instead caught himself on the cargo webbing strung along the walls. His shaky legs wobbled as he pulled himself over onto the bench in the corner beside the interrior blast doors and dropped with all of his weight onto the bare durasteel. Crosshair’s tired eyes fell shut as he drew in a deep breath and released it with a relieved grunt. Circumstances aside, this was already infinitely better than sitting on that platform in the rain.

The female officer folded the bench containing all of his weapons into the wall and secured it for hyperspace, then cast him a skeptical glance before she passed through the doors. Her heavy footsteps receded deeper into the ship until the vibration could be heard no more, and she greeted someone with a curt “ Commander .” 

“ Captain ,” an androgynous voice replied, equally as curt. “ Report .”

“ Found one Imperial, right where they said he’d be. ”

They…? Someone had sent them here for him…? The only people that even knew he was still alive was Clone Force 99, who—as far as he knew—had no affiliation with the Night Watch. If they had friends like that, they wouldn’t have been scurrying from job to job like rats. So who would they have told…? Rebels? The clone underground made the most sense. So they did have contacts somewhere out there looking out for them. 

And he did as well, it seemed. Despite leaving him behind, his brothers hadn’t given up on him after all. They were still giving him chances he didn’t deserve. 

“ So he’s not a clone? ”

“ Doesn’t look like any clone I’ve ever seen… ”

“ Then why are we taking him with us? ”

“ We’re already here, the chakaar looks like he hasn’t eaten in days. You really gonna leave him here to die? ”

“ He’s an Imperial , we gain nothing by helping him, bringin’ him on board the ship is a huge security risk to us. ”

“ Trinn’s disabling his beacon, he has no comms. We’ll be fine. ”

Trinn kicked at the toe of his boot to get his attention and snapped him out of his focus.

“Plates off.”

“Buy me dinner first,” he sneered back without looking up. 

She puffed out a low chuckle. “Savin’ your sorry shebs wasn’t enough?”

“I know what I’m worth.”

“C’mon,” she persisted, dropping his pack next to him on the floor. “You wanna stay on the ship? I need to disable that beacon. Then you can sleep as long as you want.”

Crosshair grimaced and turned away from her in protest. His entire life, his plates had been the only thing between him and an untimely death. It didn’t feel right being out of them, much less in the presence of his enemies. 

“What’s the matter, you shy?”

“Forgive me for not trusting that you won’t shoot me in the back the moment I do.”

“We could still shove you out the airlock at any time.”

He stiffened and bristled instinctively before realizing it was a joke. She was joking with him.

“I’ll give you a minute to yourself,” she said as she double-checked that the weapon stores were locked up tight on her way to the door, then turned on heel and pointed back his way. “But don’t try anything, or you’ll have my sister t’answer to.”

Crosshair rolled his eyes and gave her a sarcastic two-fingered salute as the door shut behind her before reaching up to unclip his breastplate. He’d lost track of the conversation between the Captain and Commander once Trinn interrupted him, but without the distraction he could hear them again clear as day.

“ I don’t get why they’d send us out here for one stormtrooper. ”

“ Well, maybe we’ve got it wrong. Maybe he is a clone. ”

“ Oh, for sure he is., ” Trinn proclaimed without hesitation, drawing a snort from the Captain.

“ What makes you so sure? ”

“ Well, for one thing- I don’t think a teekay trooper would have survived that mess on their own.”

Crosshair set his chestplate down on the floor and almost laughed at the thought. The TK’s had been trained by Clone Commandos for infantry combat and security. They hadn’t undergone the rigorous survival training that had killed many clones before they had even deployed. 

“They’re not exactly bright, I’ll give you that.”

“ Exactly, and this one’s too smart- gehatyc, ramikadyc.”

“A Commando? You think so?”

“Yeah, they all have the look in their eye- resentment, guilt, instant distrust of anyone that ain’t a brother... ”

“Could be the shell-shock.”

“Or, it’s ‘cause he’s still chipped.”

“And you left him alone!?”

“Relax, Reina. Mal can handle him.”

He wasn’t the only one that was smart. Trinn was observant ( too observant for his liking ), the Captain was cautious. If he’d learned anything about Mandalorians from Skirata and Vau, it’s that they were not to be underestimated. Each was a Commando by their own right, their entire culture had evolved around survival. Mandalore’s heritage had made the Clone army, without their training he and his brothers would have been long dead. 

And this crew was well-trained. If the rest of the Night Watch was half as competent—and he was certain they were—it was no wonder they were giving the Empire a run for their credits. Though their rebellion against the Imperial occupation of Mandalore had just begun, their notoriety had already spread to the farthest reaches of the Galaxy, inspiring other Separatist-allied planets like Raxus to follow suit. 

It was dangerous for him to linger for too long.

“We should have Noei take a look at him.”

“No way. We’re not taking a chipped Commando back to base.”

“Just drop me off at the nearest starport and I’ll find my way,” he cut in from the doorway behind them. 

All three heads snapped around in unison. Trinn’s hand flexed over the blaster on her thigh, Captain Mal braced herself for a fight, the Pilot fixed an intense gaze on him from behind their goggles. His vision blurred, he swayed on his feet. For a brief moment of confusion, in the dimly lit hallway, he saw the faces of his brothers staring back at him in cautious apprehension…

Then Trinn straightened up and shoved Mal back onto her heels with a muttered udesii as she passed. Their pilot-Commander exchanged a glance with Captain Mal, grunted and finally ceded.

“We’ll drop you off at Capital City on Uyter. It’s about a day’s flight out, but you shouldn’t have a problem gettin’ in touch with your friends there.”

“Works for me.”

Trinn motioned him back into the cargo bay, stooped to pick up his armor as he carefully lowered himself back onto the bench, then sat down at the workbench and popped open the backing that protected the circuitry. The distress beacon in his kit exhaled a low, digitized squeal as it powered down minutes later. He was truly on his own now, no one else was coming for him.

And yet, part of him couldn’t help but feel like he should be making better use of the situation he’d found himself in. 

“I knew you’d change your mind,” Trinn offered in the silence that followed.

“You did, did you…?” Stars, this one was as irritating as she was cute. He was starting to wish he was alone again. The sooner the better.

Crosshair sank down into his seat until he was laying flat on the bench with his legs stretched out long, folded his arms, and closed his eyes. He couldn’t see her face, but the silence was telling. He knew she was grinning.

Worldbuilding

The Night Watch: The name for the Mandalorian Resistance against the Empire, following the Imperial Reformation of Mandalore, which consisted of Bo-Katan Kryze and her Night Owls, the Protectors, what would eventually become known as “the Clan”, and most of House Viszla. This Resistance was led by a former Jedi Padawan named Fae-Rao Viszla—the first Mandalorian to enter the order since Tarre Viszla—and was aided by a group of mixed non-Mandalorians and clone deserters, who sympathized with the plight of Mandalore.

[sepulchrals]

taylor  russell,  twenty  eight,  they/she  ⟡   —  is  that  MANON  ALLARD  i  just  saw  walking  around  kilmer’s  cove?  i  heard  they’re  a  RESIDENT  who’s  been  here  for  THREE  YEARS.  it  slipped  my  mind,  since  they  just  tend  to  hang  out  at  THE  NATURAL  HISTORY  MUSEUM.  at  face  value,  they’re  said  to  be  HUMANE  and  DILIGENT,  but  i  don’t  know…  some  people  have  said  they  can  be  quite  PRYING  and  RECLUSIVE.  just  don’t  get  on  their  bad  side,  i  guess!  don’t  tell  them  i  told  you  this,  but  i’ve  heard  they  DO  believe  in  all  the  ghost  stories  around  town.  who  knows  what  the  future  holds  for  them!

notable statistics :

full name — manon delphina allard kiiza.

nickname(s) — manny, man, any 'm' variation their friends could think of.

age — twenty8 yrs old.

gender & pronouns — non-binary, they/them.

sexuality — unspecified.

appearance & personality : an individual of a completely a mild temperament, manon could be described as nothing more than a looming figure, akin to the very neutral — neither mal or benevolent — sleep paralysis demon that hangs out in the corner of your room. the most prominent of their features, surpassing that of the physical, is their pension to stare. deep eyes and ever-dilated pupils, akin to dark pools of squid ink, pose a stare far more intense than manon's voice could ever get. they speak with a mild stutter, unsure as to why - never had the intention to get diagnosed or, rather, apathologized. in terms of the physical, they stand at 5ft 8in, though seem shorter from a distance as they are swallowed by the untailored hand-me-downs and thrifted mens workwear. she sports a long bob with DIY kitchen scissors bangs, ones that always come out too short and too choppy but their friends (especially ziggy) have told her that they look cool with it, so they've grown to love it. almost nocturnal, their schedule follows the lighthouse and the aspects that are still not on a timer. mild upkeep happens during the late noon, watching for merchant ships during the night until the early morning, then taking a stroll right before sunrise. overall, they are highly reclusive, mostly speaking in motions or gestures, but punctuated with invasive and/or pseudo-philosophical questions. just a thing, floating aimlessly through the wind.

cont'd :

birthdate — february 14th.

hometown — seattle, washington, usa.

sun sign — aquarius.

occupation — current kilmer's cove lighthouse keeper.

background information :

waiting for my specific bio writing brain to come back womp womp but tl;dr — ever since a tragic boating accident during a particularly stormy end of summer night, a vacation they and their family had gone to as a before the school year tradition, manon has been with the kiiza's ever since. originally family friends now turned parents, much of their childhood was a blur if you ask them, only coming back in flickers with each subsequent year they age. they are highly private about it, even to the point of not feeling comfortable talking with their own siblings about the topic. they hate to admit that it has completely shaped who they are — their hankering for escapism and reclusion all into one dichotomous brain, the reason why they have taken up the mantle as kilmer's main lighthouse keeper, and their lack of speech around strangers.

their favorite things — the natural world, animals, early morning strolls, when people ask them / asking others outworldly hypotheticals and silly invasive questions, patching up clothes, gifting and acts of service as a love language

MANON AS THE LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER :

trigger warning for injuries, boat crashes, parental death — it was one of the last nights of their vacation where their bio parents were going out for a small dinner cruise along the coast when kilmer was overtaken by a storm that completely affected the entire power grid, even the independent generator system of the lighthouse. their boat tragically collided with the cliffs. it being small enough, many folks were affected with either severe injuries, but the collison proved to be fatal for them.since that day, they never left the care of the kiiza's. because of that, manon has come back as the lighthouse keeper the moment it was open just under a year ago, abandoning their zoology degree and former job as a park ranger in kilmer's cove to ensure that they can directly maintain and control something so important to the coast's safety in hopes no one would ever have to go through that again.

[hannahhook7744]

Badun Detective Agency Incorrect Quotes (Part 2);

Trigger warnings; Injuries, slight ableism, insults, etc.

Let me know if I should add to the trigger warnings.

Samantha is @casinotrio1965 's oc.

Previous parts: Part 1.

📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓

Jace: Hey guys, I'm reorganizing my bookshelf. How do you guys usually do it?

Hermie: By color.

Harry: By size.

Reza, offended: You're supposed to do it aphabetically, you absolute heathens.

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Hadie: Eddie.. Eddie.EDDIE. How do you feel?

Eddie: Like I just got hit by a truck.

Reza: That's because you did, you absolute idiot.

Yzla: REZA!

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Harry: Okay I know I said I wouldn't judge but Danny Darling? Seriously? You could do so much better—

Hadie:

Jace: HARRY!

Harry: What? What I say?

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Harry: What's something you guys are better at than Reza?

Hermie: Monster Madness.

Eddie: Yeah, video games.

Yzla: Emotional vulnerability.

Hadie *without a second thought* Remembering things.

Jace: HAYDEN!

Hadie *confused* What?

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Eddie *pointing at Hadie* That is a morally gray child at best.

Hadie: I don't know what you're talking about. I'm an angel.

Eddie: You are the child of Hades and the brother of Mal. I do not believe that for a second.

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Random Ak: Aren't you embarrassed about dating Jace Badun?

Elle: Honestly I'm more embarrassed about being indirectly related to Harry.

Random Ak: Why—

Harry *walks in covered in pen ink and chicken feathers, not even acknowledging them*

Elle: See.

Jace *chokes on his drink from the corner of the room*

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Jace *dividing all the OG B.D.A members up into pairs for an investigation* Harry, you're with Yzla. Reza, you're with Hermie. And Mystery is with me. Eddie you good to be alone?

Eddie: Yup.

Reza: Oh, come on. Why does Edmund get to go solo?

Jace: Eddie gets to go solo because he doesn't have a kill count or a track record of endangering himself for no reason.

Reza: That is factually incorrect!

Eddie *whispering when Jace's back is turned* It doesn't count if he doesn't find the bodies or medical records.

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Harry: I'm not creepy.

Harry: I'm petty.

Harry: There's a difference, ya' know.

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Jace: How much did you spend on this date?

Elle: $1400. But all of it's on credit cards, so it's like $5 a month for the next 2,000 years.

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~~~Bonus: The Protégés~~~

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Lada, writing in their diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

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*Danny is ordering a cake over the phone*

Shop Employee: …and what would you like your cake to say?

Danny, covering the phone to look at The Squad: Do we want a talking cake?

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Hadie: I can't take this anymore, someone needs to take me out!

Danny: In a dating type of way, or an assassination type of way?

Hadie: I don't know, surprise me!

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Deja: My hands are cold.

Glauco: Here, let me hold them.

Deja: My lips are cold too.

Glauco *covers Deja's mouth with his hand*

📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓

Lazarus: Just a minute. I need to go take out the trash.

Everlee: Oh. We're going out?

Lazarus: What—

📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓

Samantha, at 18: Come to dinner tonight. I can’t cook, but I’ll bring plenty of free wine.

Panos, also 18: Marry me.

📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓

Paro: We’re getting married, bitches!

Zuri: And we're about to make it everybody else's problem.

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Lada: I owe you one.

Avalon: That’s ok. You can just date me and we’ll call it even.

Lada: Are you flirting with me?

Avalon: Is that not obvious?

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*Miriam is crying after a breakup*

Khalil : There there, Miriam .

Miriam , still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room?

Khalil : Great question—

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Panos: I just had a long talk with Paro and Samantha about hitting and now they are yelling 'it’s my turn to perpetuate the cycle of violence' before hitting each other.

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Samantha : Many people are mildly dehydrated and don’t realize it. You should drink at least six glasses of water per day.

Avalon: No, eight glasses!

Panos: I heard ten.

Paro: You need to drink at least five glasses of water per minute.

*later…*

Zuri: Okay, I just read through every study I could find to try to figure out whether low-grade dehydration is even a real thing.

Samantha : What did you learn?

Zuri: If you spend all day doing research and forget to eat or drink, you start to feel pretty bad.

Avalon: I’ll get some water.

Zuri: But how many glas–whoa, feeling dizzy.

Lada : Maybe you should just drink straight from the tap.

📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓📓

Inspirations: 1 , 2, 3, 4, 5, and 6.

[taixju]

A NOTE:

hi everyone! this is my first ever collaboration (˶‾᷄ ⁻̫ ‾᷅˵) with christmas right around the corner (i know halloween just finished, but i’m that person who gets super duper excited for christmas!) i’ve been wanting to put together a collab to help us get into the smutty holiday spirit! 😈 (ahhh, please don’t let this flop lol)

PROMPT: “have you been naughty…or nice?” we all know it’s not the latter…what have you done to get onto the naughty list?

STATUS: ACCEPTING

DUE DATE: DEC 31, 2021

NOTE: if you miss the deadline, need to drop out, or need extra time, don’t panic! feel free to lmk via private messages. this is purely meant to be a fun collab for content creators! and i totally understand that all of us have responsibilities outside of tumblr and life happens! <3

REQUIREMENTS:

participants must be 18 years or older [age in bio]

minors are NOT welcomed

dark content & NSFW content is welcomed! kinks of all shapes n’ sizes are welcomed as long as they are tagged accordingly and the “read more” tool is utilized. writers and artists are encouraged to participate!

word count: 500+

tag or private message me the link to your final post so that i may add it to the masterlist :)

fandoms: tokyo revengers, aot, jjk, bnha, and haikyuu

WANNA JOIN? send in an ask with the fandom & character of your choice! it’ll be first come first serve, with the maximum of 3 slots per character! participating content creators are guaranteed a reblog of their final piece :)

[TOKYO REVENGERS]

@keizos | manjiro sano |

title. 𐐪 wasteland, baby! 𐑂

synopsis. You and Mikey finally indulge in a fantasy that’s plagued you both for years.

@kireirengoku | baji keisuke

@semisgroupie | shinichiro sano

title. 𐐪 discipline 𐑂

synopsis. You have been such a naughty girl all year round. It’s about time someone disciplined you and Shinichiro would gladly take that role

@sohya | kazutora

title. 𐐪 lessons learned 𐑂

synopsis. Enemies to lovers with your pervy roommate.

@fuyusangel | matsuno chifuyu

@jthebeauty | taiju shiba

@chickentendieboi | kokonoi hajime

@imaginationteashop | kisaki tetta

@marism | wakasa |

title. 𐐪 with my headphones on 𐑂

synopsis. It’s inevitable. Innocent phone calls quickly turn into nasty phone sex.

@thetempleofnyx | ran haitani |

title. 𐐪 more than milk & cookies 𐑂

synopsis. Ran thinks his favorite little elf is sweeter than sweet.

[ATTACK ON TITAN]

@lovelysho | eren yaeger

@letmebeyourgalathee | jean kirstein

[JUJUTSU KAISEN]

@lovelyxloli | toji fushiguro

@arean | toji fushiguro

@s-ugei | suguru getou

@luseifer | nanami kento

@ambrodias | satoru gojo

[BNHA]

@izukuskani | katsuki bakugou

@redspade227 | keigo takami |

title. 𐐪 hawks 𐑂

synopsis. A special Christmas Eve with Hawks.

@akirahira | izuku midoriya

@mal-adaptive-daydreamer | tamaki amajiki

title. 𐐪 make you mommy 𐑂

synopsis. Your boyfriend can’t stop thinking about adding a lil addition to your family this Christmas.

[HAIKYUU]

@hintson | satori tendou

@toorusluvr | hajime iwaizumi |

title. 𐐪 personal 𐑂

synopsis. Spending Christmas break with your hot boss? What could go wrong?

@rosesandtoshi​ | hajime iwaizumi

@haikyutiehoe | kotaro bokuto

@fvckme-sir | kotaro bokuto

@martellprincess-writes | meian shuugo |

title. 𐐪 haikyuu: bad boyfriends 𐑂

synopsis. A cozy cabin stay for the holidays in your hometown with your fiancé. What could possibly go wrong?

@haikyutiehoe | msby

[descendantofthesparrow]

Soulmate au! tattoos - Harry Hook x Reader - Oneshot

Small spin on two soulmate au ideas that got sent in, name tattooed somewhere on the body and whatever is drawn on the skin shows up on the other, and im including tattoos (except those don’t disappear so if your soulmate get a tattoo you get one too and unless you get it removed it's there to stay)

soulmate au ideas from anon and @harryhasmehooked 

tattoo designs/ideas borrowed from @kindofchaoticgood 

=

Everyone was born with their soulmates name tattooed somewhere on their body, on their wrist, on their collarbone, on the back of the neck, anywhere really. Another thing was that whatever your soulmate had something written or drawn on their arm, it would show up on your body as well.

Many soulmates found each other by communicating with a pen and writing their information on their skin, others liked to make it a hunt and only give hints to their soulmate.

Then there were the tattoos. and not the ones that one was born with. The ones that someone got willingly inked onto their body.

If someone got a tattoo, that same tattoo would appear on their soulmate's body, but unlike when they simply wrote on their arm with a pen, it wouldn’t disappear unless they got it removed.

Sometimes, people gushed over their soulmate's tattoo and proudly wore them, others hid their tattoos away in fear they would be judged.

Usually, the ones who hid their tattoos either had a good reason to hide them or were just ashamed of their soulmate's choice of art.

You weren’t one of those people.

Around the time you were 11 or 12, small temporary tattoos began to appear on your skin, first just little inked ones that would easily wash off, but soon little stick and poke tattoos started to appear, they would fade after a while but they were cute and you retouched them on your own when you could. Some were little music notes, others resembled constellations, and one, which was your favorite, was a small hook nestled in the crook of your palm.

The first “real” tattoo showed up several months after the first poke and stick tattoos, your cousin had joked about how cliche it was and your soulmate must be a pirate or something, a skull with crossed swords on the right side of your chest.

Your parents had pretty much freaked out, you only being 12 and already having a tattoo but you brushed it off and admired it every day, writing on your arm to ask your soulmate where and how they had gotten the tattoo.

Unfortunately, you had never gotten a response.

The next tattoo to appear, on the left side of your chest this time, was a ship sailing into the horizon. Again you asked them where and how they had gotten the tattoo, along with asking the name of the ship, once again there was no response.

Only a week later a new tattoo showed up, this time on the inside of your left arm, written in slight cursive were the words “No grave can hold me down” you had traced the words the entire night into the next morning.

Soon after that, another tattoo showed up, this one on the back of your left hand, depicting three swords crossing their blades.

Your cousins always teased you about how pirate-like your soulmate's tattoos were, but you laughed at the slight irony of it since your soulmate might have been a pirate after all.

Considering their last name was “Hook” it was a pretty good chance that they had followed their dad's footsteps.

“Harry Hook” a name that drifted through your dreams, you always imagined what they would be like, hopefully, nothing like James hook.

It was years before a new tattoo showed up, when you were 16 and attending Auradon prep, after King Ben had invited four villain kids to Auradon, curling black inked words on the inside of your right arm ‘death before disloyalty’. You had no clue what it meant, but it clearly had a deeper meaning.

Throughout the years you had no luck in attempting to contact your ‘Harry Hook’, you had either sent a simple ‘hi’ or a small little note mentioning one of the tattoos. It was always no response. Though you got little notes from them that were rare and never had anything to do with what you sent him. Just little ‘hello’s and asking your name, but every time you responded, nothing came back.

you had mentioned it to Evie, who was in your art class, who said that because of the barrier, it prevented soulmate magic as well, meaning Harry hadn’t ever seen your little notes and didn’t even have your name tattooed on him somewhere.

Evie was also the only one who knew of your soulmate's name that was willing to tell you about him, being the least…biased against her fellow vk. Mal, Jay, and Carlos all seemed to have some sort of grudge against him and always badmouthed him when the topic of Harry came up.

Though thanks to Evie and her thankfully amazing art skills, she had depicted Harry for you, she had said it wasn’t perfect since she was more of a concept artist than one who practiced realism, that was more Mal’s thing, but you could tell she was just being modest.

Black fluffy hair, ocean blue eyes always lined with liner, plump lips that Evie said were always in a sharp smirk, a jaw that could cut someone. He was perfect, and you hoped you could meet him soon.

Three months after the vks had come to Auradon, a new tattoo appeared; this time of a solid black anchor on your right forearm. You traced it constantly with your finger, wondering what this one meant, just as you did with every tattoo appearance.

Soon after that, a swallow appeared just above the crook of your right elbow, and a lioness with a language you couldn’t speak written under it appearing on your left wrist.

Then a watercolor lily on the side of your right forearm, then constellations started to appear on your back, you had Evie take a picture each time one appeared, smiling as yours appeared among them (star sign, like Virgo or Capricorn)

Around April, another tattoo appeared, again on your right forearm, this time of a treble clef symbol with a series of notes within the loops. You wondered what the song was, humming it under your breath as you tapped out the notes on whatever surface your hand was resting on.

It was several months later before another tattoo appeared, and it was the most beautiful one yet. Swirling turquoise tentacles curled around and down your right arm, starting from your right shoulder and ending just below your elbow.

You had started wearing sleeveless tops more often, wanting everyone to see the masterpiece that was curled around your arm.

Once you turned 18 you started to decorate your skin as well, your first being a watercolor compass on your left bicep that melted into waves as it drew away from the middle.

Next, you got one with a moon theme on the back of your neck just below your hairline, reaching down your neck and connecting with the constellations on your back.

After that you got a skeleton hand on your right hand, then the map of Neverland on your thigh, then the north star on your ankle.

You were almost covered in tattoos, to which some people gaped and gasped, but you paid them no mind, your tattoos were your only connection to your soulmate and you couldn’t wait for the day that he would finally see your combined works.

-

Harry didn’t know if he had a soulmate or not, the barrier prevented any type of communication through writing on their skin or their names being tattooed on their body.

So Harry had gone his entire life without knowing the name of his, possibly non-existent, soulmate, and no matter how many times he had tried to talk to them, there was never any response.

He always did wonder though, if he had a soulmate, what they thought of his tattoos. Did they like them? Did they wear them proudly? Did they hide them? Did they get them removed? He would probably never know.

Until one day, only a couple days after the four traitors had invited four new vks, he was outside of the barrier.

The blank spots on his skin bloomed to life, a watercolor compass on his left bicep, a skeleton hand on his right hand, Gil told him about the moon tattoo on the back of his neck, the tingle of magic on his thigh and ankle told him there were new tattoos there was well.

He stared at the new tattoos, smiling slightly at the realization that he did have a soulmate. His smile dipped a bit as his left wrist started to burn slightly, and he ripped away the old bandage that covered his scar from years ago, eyes widening as the curving letters of his soulmates started to appear.

‘(y/n) (l/n)’

Harry stared at the name, not realizing everyone was moving towards Auradon till Gil gently pushed at his shoulder to get him to move “oh” Harry muttered, catching up with Uma and smirking as she stared at the large tattoo sleeve on his right arm.

“you are such a dork” she snorted, pushing at his arm and looking at his hand “didn’t think you were one to get a skeleton tattoo”

Harry just held up his left wrist with a grin “Oh holy shit!” Uma laughed, grabbing onto his hand and examining the name “(y/n) huh?...nice name” Mal yelled at them to catch up, making Uma glare at the girl. “hold your pants princess were dealing with some shit back here!”

Uma and Harry shared a look ‘we’ll talk about this later’ and followed after the other vks, Uma continuing to poke and prod at Harry's new tattoos.

-

Harry stood awkwardly in a quiet corner at Mal and Ben's engagement party as everyone else danced in the middle of the large garden. He swirled the pink lemonade in the small glass cup and took a careful sip. He let a small smile grow on his face as Gil and Uma spun around on the dance floor.

He glanced down at his left wrist, flexing it a bit as his soulmate's name shined lightly in the sunlight. He let out a sigh and took another sip of his drink, he had no idea where his soulmate was, they could be anywhere really, in Auradon, or maybe on the other side of the world.

“I like your tattoos” a voice spoke from beside him, and Harry glanced at them for a moment before looking back at the dance floor.

“Thank yeh” he muttered back, pausing as he went to take another sip of his drink. He whirled back around, eyes widening as he really looked at the person who had complimented him.

They were covered in tattoos, ones that matched his exactly, on their right arm were turquoise tentacles, an anchor, a swallow in flight, a watercolor lily, a treble clef with music notes, and…his name on the inside of your wrist. “Harry Hook…right?” you asked nervously, tapping your foot against the ground.

Harry looked down at his wrist again and looked back at you “aye…(y/n) (l/n)?” he asked softly, smiling as you grinned and nodded.

“That would be me, it's nice to finally meet you Harry” you held out your hand, your grin widening as Harry eagerly took it. “Come on, let's talk”

“Okay,” Harry muttered, sharing a smile with Uma and Gil as they pointed at your tattoos with wide grins “let's talk.”

You tugged Harry out of the garden party, your hands tightly intertwined. Just below your intertwined hands at the wrists, the tattooed names glowed for a moment then shimmered to a shining, just visible, gold color.

A symbol that one's soulmate had been found.

-end-

 another short but sweet oneshot! probably didnt make complete sense but im just wanting to get back into writing since ive been feeling a bit of a block with my main stories, so if anybody else has anymore soulmate au ideas send em in.

permtaglist

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange

@lunanight2012 @daughter-of-the-stars11

@musicarose @remembered-license

@random-thoughts-003 @verboetoperee

@rintheemolion @jatp-rules-my-life​

@thecaptainsgingersnap​  @imtryingthisout​

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.11

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Eleven: I Know It’s Over: Things get a little more clearer as you deal with the pain Spencer caused. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.4k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, jealousy, talk of breakup/s, mentions of alcohol consumption / intoxication, serious serious angst, this whole series is a real slow burn.

series masterlist

A/N: everyone go thank @ellesgreenaway​ for getting me out of my writing rut just in time to get this chapter done! and as always, i wanted to reiterate how fucking grateful i am that y'all are reading, and liking, this little story! it means the world to me! also, i didn't reread this so there may some mistakes ill fix later, sorry!!

-

People love weekends. They’re like a mini holiday. A break from the tedious and repetitive cycle that is Monday to Friday. Weekends are time spent away from the office, your profession and whatever that entails. They are time spent away from completing menial tasks. A break.

Saturdays and Sundays help regain all of the lost energy. When people get caught up in everyday life, weekends remind them to enjoy the simple things. They gives the opportunity to try new things, visit family and friends, or allow to simply spend some time alone. People love weekends.

Your weekend however, was an utter blur.

Aiding a killer hangover on Saturday, you opted to spend the day in bed. A plastic bucket within your reach and a bottle of water on the side table. You slept a lot. Partially to ease the headache, but mainly to ease the pain you were experiencing in your chest. The heartache.

The only thing you could remember from the night before was Spencer completely shattering your hopes and dreams, and the first six shots of tequila you took after at a nearby bar. You weren't entirely sure how you got home; the next morning Ethan clarified he picked you up after the bartender rang him using your phone. Not one of your proudest moments.

Your lack of motivation carried onto Sunday. The grief you were experiencing was not unfamiliar, after all Spencer’s broken up with you before. Although this time the agony that accompanied it felt a lot more intense. You couldn't move, or eat, or even shower. You were frozen. Stuck to the bed as if it was your only lifeline.

Thankfully Ethan was working both days. In your eyes, he was too preoccupied to notice something was wrong. Unbeknown to you however, he knew exactly the reason behind your melancholy.

The weekend soon ended, almost as soon as it began. Monday morning rolled around and with it the encouragement to get out of bed. Not like you wanted to. If you had it your way, you would never leave the comfort and safety of your duvet again. You knew however, you couldn't stay home without at least some of your colleagues questioning your absence, asking what was wrong. No. It was time to face reality.

Time to face Spencer.

The brunette doctor was sat at his desk. He arrived to work today earlier than usual, about four hours early to be exact. He made his usual cup of coffee and since then he hasn't moved an inch, just staring silently at his phone.

It wasn't something he done often, honestly he only carried the thing around for work purposes. But something happened that he couldn't quite get over.

On Saturday morning, Spencer woke up to a message left on his voicemail. A message from you.

At first it was hard to decipher what you were saying, or rather what you were mumbling. Between the drunken hiccups, slurred speech, and obnoxious background noise, Spencer initially thought it was a butt dial. It must have been, right? He was after breaking your heart for a second time, why would you leave him a voicemail?

However, hearing your melodic tone just saying his name, prompted Spencer to listen to the message again. It was then he really heard the distorted words coming out of your mouth.

“Spencerrrrrr, I uh I don't believe yo-ou. I know-w in uh my hearrrt-t you d-didn't mean it.” Hiccup. “P...p-please let’ssss forgetuh abo-ut it.” Hiccup. “I-I love youh-uh anddd I kno-ow you love meeee. I jussst kno-w.” Hiccup. “I-I me-an you uh couldn't-t even look me-e in the eye when you sss-said it.... please-e S-Spencer-”

The message cuts off and he’s left dumbfounded.

Blood drained from his face. The voicemail registered in his brain and he suddenly felt dizzy. Nauseous even. His hands began to tremble in his lap, and he swore if he wasn't sitting down he would have fainted.

By Monday, Spencer had listened to the voicemail a painstakingly two-hundred and eleven times. He had it memorised, and yet he kept playing it over and over again just to hear your voice.

As he sat at his desk, waiting for his colleagues to arrive, he wondered whether you remembered sending it. Truthfully, he hoped you didn't. It would be easier to move on that way - as if moving on from you was an option.

The glass door opened and he heard a faint sound of footsteps walk across the bullpen. Footsteps Spencer would honestly recognise anywhere. Taking in a deep breath, he glanced up from his phone and slightly turned his head, his gaze landing on you.

The air caught in Spencer’s throat, the voicemail instantly replaying in his head.

He wondered what you were thinking. Simply by looking at you he could tell you were in pain. Pain he caused, and he hated himself for it. Having spent countless hours over Saturday and Sunday rethinking the situation, he knew he made a mistake. He should have never given into Ethan’s smug demands. And even if, he should have told you what happened. Leave the choice up to you, as it was in the first place.

It was too late now to fix this, Spencer knew even if you remembered sending the voicemail you wouldn't listen to what he had to say anyway. Selfishly, he wanted you to look at him. He wanted to gaze into your eyes as the drunken message replayed in his mind yet again.

And although you could feel his eyes on you, you couldn't bring yourself to meet his stare. No. The heartache would only intensify. This was a mistake. You should have stayed home. With a blank expression, you placed your bag on your desk and hurried in the direction of the office kitchenette.

Spencer on the other hand followed you with his gaze. Every fibre of his being screamed to follow you, to talk to you. But he was completely frozen and remained glued to his own chair. Once again, a true display of cowardliness.

By lunch time, the whole team picked up on the odd dynamic between you and the handsome doctor. Two people that spent every waking moment together were no longer speaking to one another.  It didn't take a profiler to see something was wrong.

You hid in Penelope’s lair with the bubbly blonde and Tara. Enjoying a couple minutes of peace away from the prying eyes of everyone you worked with, most importantly however, away from Spencer.

“So chicken, are you going to tell us what’s wrong?” Garcia enquired, taking a mouthful of her lunch. “Because a blindman could see something is off, and don't you dare telling me I’m delusional or something.”

“Penelope is right, Y/N. Last time you were this silent and upset was when Spencer was in prison.”

You let out a deep sigh at the sound of his name. It was no use hiding your feelings from them, they would figure it out eventually. Plus these were the people you trusted more than anything in the world. If you couldn't tell them, then who could you tell what was going on?

“It’s something similar.” You mumbled, avoiding their gaze. “Just much much worse this time...”

“Well whatever it is, you can tell us. We’re here for you.” Penelope chimed, and reached out her hand to grab yours. She gave it a gentle squeeze and shot you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, exactly. We will support you through anything, you know that.” Tara added nodding along.

You sniffled. What were becoming all too familiar tears formed in the corners of your eyes, and you knew you would break down at any given second. Taking in a long breath, you began to tell the two girls everything that’s happened since your engagement. They listened attentively, never turning their attention away from you. As they listened, they both held your hands and took turns whispering ‘it’s okay’ or ‘take your time’.

“I’m going to kill our resident genius. He won't know what’s coming.” Penelope murmured after you finished in an attempt to lighten the mood. The corners of your lips twitched ever so slightly upwards as you wiped the tears away from your face.

“What are you going to do?” Tara asked after a congenial moment of silence.

“Ehm...” You cleared your throat. “S-Spencer wants nothing to do with me, but uhm... I after everything I c-can’t, I just can't be with Ethan. I can’t-t.”

The girls both nodded their heads, and even though they understood exactly what you meant by what you were saying, you still felt like you had to say the words aloud. For your own sake.

“So, uhm, I-I’m going to break up with Ethan. I-I’m going to end the engagement.” You stated, and even though your heart still ached, you felt as if a weight was lifted off of your shoulders. You felt free.

And I know it's over - still I cling I don't know where else I can go 

-

A/N: as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

masterlist | series masterlist | series playlist

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01, @reverdevivre, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy, @lunaofcrows, @andrewhoezierbyrne​, @blameitonthenight21, @lyl-26, @do-yr-research, @nazifa94, @stepsofthefbi, @chatterbug2-0, @calm-and-doctor, @halseysunset

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​, @idroppedmygourd​​, @averyhotchner, @wowitsel, @elldell1204, @hey-there-angels, @reidabookforonce, @ellesgreenaway

[imeanyourmomsprettyhot]

You Have No Right II Aemond Targaryen

part one

story masterlist / masterlist

summary: Driven by sheer desire, the One-Eyed Prince tries to find the woman that caused his sleepless nights full of lust and frustration.

warnings: female!reader, dark and possessive Aemond, sexual scenes, violent scenes

tag list (comment if you want to be added to the list):

@lilitheal @aemonds-fire @toodlesxcuddles @shygardengalaxy

══════════════════

The years carried over the land and in that time, The Realm's Delight, Princess Rhaenyra, had left King's Landing off to Dragonstone, with her husband and her children.

The girl wondered, if she left because of the rumors and whispers growing stronger. People believed her children were bastards, not belonging on the Iron Throne one day.

While some were still referring to her as The Realm's Delight, others dared to use words like 'whore' on her. The girl though was never interested in the royal's gossip. It was not for her to care for other people's lifes, especially not of the ones that saw themselves as better—the highborns.

She was now eight and ten, long old enough to work on her own. Her mother got old, and whoremonger were rare. It was now on her to support her mother.

She worked in bars and tried her luck as a weaver, but those things didn't quite do it for her. But it worked out in her favor, when the Red Keep was looking for maidservants and she got accepted to work as one.

She didn't care for the royals of this world—the upper class in general. But they paid good money, a warm bed, enough food, and the safety of the castle.

The farewell from her mother was not as hard as she thought it would be. Especially, after she told her to not ever come back, if she lost her work again.

Her mother wasn't a bad person, she really wasn't. But she held grief and wrath in her heart, after she realized no man wanted her any longer.

The closer she got to The Red Keep, the more uncertainty grew inside of her. She left anything she had behind, beginning a completely new life, and working for the royals of King's Landing.

Her anxiety reached it's peak, as she stood right in front of the servant's entrance. The knight, guarding the door, gave her a suspicious look, as she approached the back door.

"Who are you?" He asked, his voice steady and his posture straight.

"I am the new maidservant," the girl shyly responded.

The guard opened the door.

"Camyla!" He shouted, not leaving his eyes from the girl.

Soon, a beautiful lady stepped out of the door, not older than thirty. She examined the girl through her blue eyes, brushing blond strands of hair behind her ear.

"I'm here to work," the girl felt so small, standing in front of a guard and the lady, Camyla, carefully looking down at her.

"Then get inside and we will find you some work, child!" The woman suddenly laughed.

The young girl did not hesitate a bit, as she made her way into the castle. She followed Camyla down the hallway of what seemed like the kitchens of the castle.

Camyla asked for her name, as well as a few other things, involving her age, family, and if she had any kind of references.

The woman had quite a good paste in her walk, which the girl tried to imitate, to not be left behind. They walked through the underground of the castle, soon heading into a small room.

"Get comfortable here, child. Laurane will get you in the morning and show you anything you need to know." Camyla explained and the girl nodded, "You have to learn fast and quickly become unimpressed by this house and it's residents, do you understand me?"

The young one nodded again. The strict, motherly tone in Camyla's voice, reminded the girl of home. It wasn't a good thing, nor was it a bad thing either.

The woman turned on her heel and left the girl alone in the tiny room. This room was nothing more than four walls and a door. The bed just about fitted on the right side, while a small table and a drawer were standing on the other. She had about one-and-a-half square meter of free space to move freely—the room was really tiny.

She unpacked the few things she had—two nice dresses, one for sleeping, her hair brush. As she had anything sorted in the drawer in no time, she made herself ready for sleep.

The bed was comfortable, like lying on a cloud. As she drifted off to sleep, she thought about tomorrow day—another wave of anxiety crept up her throat.

---

"Good morning," a voice woke her up, "I'm Laurane."

The room brightened up, as Laurane lit up the candles. The girl's eyes slowly opened, her face puffy and still tired from last night's sleep.

"Get dressed and meet me outside. Oh, and don't forget to put your hair up!" She kindly smiled and placed some clothing on the table, before she left

Laurane seemed like a nice woman, and the girl wondered, if all the maids were as friendly as her—they probably weren't, but just the thought of it, made her happy.

The girl got up and changed her clothing to the red dress, Laurane gave her. She threw the white apron over her head, smoothing out the pleats with her hands. She put her hair in two braids and pinned them up, to create a low bun on the back of her head.

Laurane was already waiting for her in the hallway, greeting her with another warm smile. The two started walking down the long path to a long staircase.

"You will attend Princess Helaena for today," she began, "She is the most kind and simple of the Targaryens, you should not have any problems with her."

They both arrived at the top of the staircase, turning to another hallway.

"You open her curtains, place fresh water on her table, take something out to dress for her, and ask if there's anything else you could do, got it?"

The girl nodded again, right before they finished their walk at a large, thick door. A guard in silver-white armor was standing in front of it, who quickly stepped aside.

"It's good that you're not much of a talker," Laurane hinted, "Keep that trait up, it'll make things a lot easier for you here."

Laurane knocked on the door of the Princess' door

"If they don't answer, you are allowed to step inside," she explained and opened the heavy door, soon after.

She let the girl get inside, before closing the door again, as the young maid was left her on her own. In her head, she went through her tasks one more time. Curtains, water, dress, asking—seemed pretty simple.

So the girl made her way over to the windows, almost tiptoeing over the floor. She drew the dark green velvet curtains open, and the room filled up with the light and the warmth of the sun.

"Good morning, Princess." The girl turned around, facing the just woken up princess.

The Princess rubbed her eyes, as the bright sun light hit her face. Her violet gemstones twinkled beneath her eyelashes, marveling the young maid, who was just filling up a bowl of fresh water.

"I have never seen you before, you are pretty!" The Princess chanted.

The girl turned around and the two violet eyes were watching her carefully. The Princess got out of bed, while the young girl placed a soft smile on her face.

"Thank you, your grace. I really appreciate it," the thankful look on the girl's face, made the Princess smile, "I just started working in The Red Keep, my Princess."

The girl made her way to Princess Helaena's closet, taking out a few of the dresses in there. She held them up in the air, so the Princess could look at all of them.

"How about the light blue?" The Princess asked.

"Excellent choice, my Princess." The girl replied, earning a satisfied look.

The young maid helped the Princess get dressed, and they both looked proudly in the mirror. The girl had done a great job, and Princess Helaena thought that too.

The girl was about to leave, when she remembered to ask the Princess for anything else she could do. She turned back around, but the young woman was staring out of the window.

"Is there anything else you need, my Princess?" The girl asked.

"He's draped in obsidian whispers. Protect the wisp of hair, or fall in the trap of of the heir." She calmly said, as if she wasn't actually paying attention to the words that came out of her mouth.

The girl didn't know what to say. She didn't notice how her lips parted in sheer disarray. She had heard before that Princess Helaena was a bit different from other people—that she had a screw loose. But until now, the girl could not comprehend what that was supposed to mean.

The Princess looked like her mind suddenly came from a long travel, back to it's body, as she turned around and looked at the young maidservant.

"No, I don't need anything. Thank you." She simply said with a soft smile on her pale lips.

The girl closed the door to the Princess' chamber and didn't move for a few moments. She tried to reflect and understand what just happened, what the Princess wanted to tell her, or if there was even something to tell and that weren't just meaningless words from a confused-minded girl.

She eventually started walking again, as she came to no conclusion. There was other work to do now, so she made her way to the small creek, right outside of the Red Keep.

She met a few other maids there, some very young, some a lot older. It was time for cleaning the sheets, and there was a huge pile lying on the ground.

"Come here, sister," one of the young maidens called out for the girl, "Sit with us!"

The girl was astonished by the kindness of everyone in the Red Keep—not even the Princess had any cruel facet on her. She never thought that it was like that, not in any way.

She approached the women, and took a sheet from the huge pile. She started scrubbing the thing, while the other girls continued with their talking. But their attention, all of sudden, turned over to the new girl.

"How was it with Princess Helaena?" One maid asked, the other ones carefully listening from behind.

The girl looked in the curious eyes of the maidens, not entirely sure what the question was supposed to mean. Perhaps they had the same experience with her than she had. Or it was just a way to small talk with her.

"It was good," the girl began, "She seems really kind."

"Oh, that's nice." The maid replied.

In their faces, the girl saw that they expected a little more. Maybe they wanted to know if the rumors were true about the Princess?

They went back to their work, as the girl opened her mouth again.

"But," she caught their attention again, "We had a strange conversation of some kind."

"Strange?" One of the maids asked, "In what way?"

After that question, she knew what the girls were up to. They wanted to know the gossip, some weird encounters that are worthy to talk about.

"I'm not quite sure..." She continued, the other maids hanging on her every word, "I was about to leave, when she all of sudden started saying incomprehensible things to me."

"Like what?" One girl instantly inquired.

It was clear as day that the maidens weren't interested in the young girl. They only cared for the chitchat she could give them.

"Just something about being careful." She told them, not wanting to reveal everything.

"Oh..." The maidens looked devastated, desperately wanting something interesting to know, "Be careful then."

The maidens went on with their work, leaving the girl all puzzled. What did they mean by that? Did they believe what Princess Helaena said?

"What is up with that?" The girl asked, not earning the maiden's full attention back, "Do you think what the Princess said is true?"

"Of course it is," one said, not looking up from scrubbing the sheets, "Or at least most of the time."

And once again, the girl was left fully baffled and loaded with questions. But this time, the maiden noticed her confusion and decided to clear up her mind.

"Princess Helaena is a prophetic woman, you know? She knows things before they happen and tells the people who have to know."

But the maiden's explanation just caused more distress in the young girl's head, which did not get brought to light this time.

'He's draped in obsidian whispers. Protect the wisp of hair, or fall in the trap of of the heir'

She repeated those words over and over again, in her head, but they made no sense.

Obsidian whispers?

And what trap of what heir?

Those words sounded like meaningless phrases, coming from a princess, who got lost in her own mind—and who did not find the way back. But were they really that meaningless, when even random maidservants talked about the Princess having prophetic visions?

Noon went by pretty quickly, and the late afternoon kept crawling in, as the girls have washed and hung all the sheets up and the young maid made her way back to Princess Helaena's chambers.

The day was over for the royalty of the kingdom, and the young girl prepared a bath for the Princess, who has not yet returned.

The girl filled up the tub with warm water that she first heated up over the fire. It was a long process, carrying the heavy buckets over and over again. She worried she was too slow, as she heard the door open—The Princess had arrived.

She continued her work, as she noticed a shadow entering the room. She looked up, wanting to greet her Princess. But instead, a tall man with long white hair and an eyepatch over his eye, was staring at her. His hands were placed behind his back.

The One-Eyed Prince—Aemond Targaryen. He was by far the most terrifying of them all. Not because of his looks, but because of the rumors that were told about him in the city.

"Where is The Princess?" He asked, his voice monotone, as he looked down at the pathetic little maidservant.

"I'm sorry, my Prince, Princess Helaena has yet to arrive at her chambers." Her voice was steady, while her insides were trembling. She didn't even knew why, but Prince Aemond's aura frightened the young girl.

The Prince just hummed in response.

"Is there anything I could do for you, my Prince?" She asked, hoping so badly he'd say no.

"I will just wait for The Princess then."

And with that, he went out of the bath, placing himself on one of the chairs in his sister's bed chamber.

The girl continued her hard work, carrying the bucket from the fire place to the tub. She was breathing loudly, as her arms got weaker and the bucket heavily. She felt the eye of The Prince on her the whole time—he observed if she did her work correctly.

She wanted to ask him for the audacity that she had to carry this huge thing over and over again and he just watched, probably amused by the view. But she was able to tame her anger and only said such things in her mind.

Yet she found, it was probably better to be angry at Prince Aemond, than to fear him right now. How would she be able to properly work, if she was uncomfortable and utterly scared of him in that moment?

She has finally finished, the exact same moment she heard The Princess enter her chambers. This time she knew it was her because she immediately started happily talking.

"Aemond!" She extolled, her voice full of joy—she loved seeing him.

The Prince stood up, approaching his sister. They talked for a moment—how Prince Aegon was once again seen in Flea Bottom, and how The Queen wanted to keep that information from The Princess—but the girl was unable to hear their words. Prince Aemond had left the chambers, and The Princess entered the bath.

"Good afternoon, my Princess," the girl bowed, "Your bath is all set up."

The Princess smiled at the young maidservant, and turned around, signaling the girl to help her open her dress. She opened the laces, and the blue fabric fell down on the floor, leaving the young princess all naked.

The girl tried to keep her view as straight as possible, as not to look at her princess in any kind of inappropriate way. She turned around and walked over to the tub, slowly getting in the warm water.

The girl sat by The Princess' side for the whole time—she was a rather quiet person for someone of royal blood.

"Would you bring me something to drink?" She asked the maidservant, who immediately jumped up and brought a chalice of fresh water.

But as she returned to the bath, Princess Helaena was again having this hollow look in her face, just like earlier that morning. Her gaze went up to the young girl's face, and her eyes widened.

"Beware his obsidian whispers! Beware his trap! Beware the Heir!" She shouted all of sudden.

The girl jumped up, while Princess Helaena repeated her words from that morning. She was confused, and scared, and even more confused. But The Princess' mind eventually came back again to it's body, as she looked at the girl with a much clearer face.

"I won't be needing you any longer for today," she mumbled, looking down, "You can go to bed."

"Th-thank you, my Princess. Sleep well." The girl bowed again and quietly left the chambers.

She walked down the long stairs and the even longer hallway, all the way to her tiny, dark bed chamber. In her head, the words of The Princess repeated themselves again, and more questions shot through her mind.

What was Princess Helaena on about? Should the girl even believe her words? And if so, what could those words possible mean? What had she need to be careful for?

She took care of her hair and her clothes, as she finally slipped down in bed. Her legs were hurting, and her back was aching—as she was not used to this type of work. She decided to calm her mind, and not think about this 'prophecy' any longer.

The girl tried to fall asleep as quickly as possible, to let her body rest as best as it could. The bed was comfortable. The mattress was soft and the blanket held warm—she felt cozy. It was like her own little safe haven. Quiet, warm, and protected.

<< next chapter >>

[sweetchup]

A Helping Hand 4: Ghosts of Pasts // Day 1

Type: Shalnark x reader

Au?: Savior Au

Word Count: 2,800+

Warnings: Reminsing of last chapter, Injury, Meteor City mentioned

Author Note: Ah! I’m glad to be back writing this series sorry for the long wait. I split chapter 4 up into multiple parts so it’s going to be looooong.

Also, I’ve started a Taglist for all of my series to make it easier for people to find out when the next installation is. So if you want the be added just sent me an ask thats not anonymous and I’ll add you.

<—(Pt.3) / (Pt.4.2)—>

A Helping Hand Masterlist

It was the eve of December 18th, when snow finally fell throughout the Republic of Padokea. However, there was no celebration or cheer by the citizens as all of the festive winter holidays had already passed by then. With most just deciding to bunker in for a quiet night at home. Even at the Hospital near the bloodthirsty Heaven’s Arena it was rather quiet, almost dull in a way.

Though, one specific doctor, Doctor (y/n) of the intensive care unit, had little to complain about the lack of patients and activity. It was rather refreshing actually, mostly due to the fact it was your last night on the job before you went on your week long holiday break, a break you had planned out with your supervisor months ahead of time.

Months before you had met a specific man. Much more specifically, a specific patient named Shalnark Ryuseih. A member of the infamous Phantom troupe who you had saved from his demise at the Heaven’s Arena.

…. As well as someone you might have developed a really really big crush on during your time taking care of him. But, that’s a story for another day and something you shouldn’t be worrying about right now. Especially since you still have plenty of time left on the clock before you go home.

As the seconds click a way, you find yourself letting out a groan. It was no use. You couldn’t get him out of your mind.

You just wished that it was the usual thoughts of Shalnark that festered in your mind during work. The ones that were caused from something as simple as him holding you in his arms tighter than usual while he slept one night or perhaps a teasing comment he shot at you while passing in the hall.

But that sadly wasn’t the case.

For the last couple of weeks, Shalnark had been acting…… weird.

Well he technically always acted weird—a man who actually enjoyed indulging in birthday cake flavored ice cream could not be considered normal in your book— but this time, he was actually acting quite strange.

Sometimes, when doing check ups or just visiting his room you could hear him sigh. It was quite unnoticeable at first, you had just thought he was frustrated with some new tech thing he got into, but as December went on the sigh only got heavier and more frequent. This was also when some of Shalnark’s other actions started to be strange as well, something as simple as,“What are you doing for the Holidays?” Or, actually now that you think about it, anything that was remotely related to the holidays would have the corner of his lips drop slightly. Something very strange for him, for he hardly faltered that smile of his.

And it wasn’t as if you weren’t trying to find out what was wrong. You had asked him plenty of times about his new habits. Though, in a Shalnark fashioned way, he would just brush you off with a grin and be confused as to what you were talking about.

So, if Shalnark isn’t going to tell you himself what was wrong. You were just going to have to take it upon yourself to make him feel better. Emotional health is just as important as physical health in your book.

“For the last time (y/n), I hope you know what you are getting yourself into.” Mal reminds you for the 15th time since you entered her office space.

“Yes, yes. I understand, don't worry about it.” You reassure the older woman as you continue to fill in the blanks to finish up the paperwork. All the while attempting to ignore her as she nags your ear off. “Okay I’m done. Thanks by the way Mal, I really owe you one”

As Mal takes the paperwork from your hands, she gives you one last warning of caution,

“I know Shalnark is under your care and all, and you have gotten pretty close to him during his stay…. but don’t you think having him leave with you for vacation is a little much? It’s legal, for some odd reason, but you should be careful. Not only is he a grown man that could try anything while you are alone with him but if any of the higher ups hear about this, you could get in a lot of trouble.”

“True, but I doubt that,” You hum out as you fumble with grabbing your winter coat off the rack, “The higher ups don’t exactly care much about paperwork unless one of the secretaries, like yourself, reports something. So unless you choose to report me, I don’t have much to worry about.”

“Fine. Just…. be careful. I swear you have been getting more and more reckless the more you spend with that man.”

“I will. Don’t worry, Mal. See you in a week!!”

“Okay, see you in a week.” Mal responds back, her wave goodbye immediately faltering as you close the door. Taking a deep breath to calm down the uneasy feeling in her gut, She just hoped you knew what you were doing.

Once Mal sends you off, you make your way in the direction of Shalnark’s room. You are excited to tell him about your little surprise but also quite scared because you did not exactly ask him… permission…. to sign him out.

“Come in.” Shalnark's voice rings out from behind the door as you knock. Coming into the room, you see that, as per normal, Shalnark was clicking away at his laptop. He seemed busy with something since even when you took the seat at his bedside he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from the screen.

After a couple more minutes of listening to the clicking of keys, Shalnark finally closes his laptop and turns his attention to you.

“Hello (y/n)! What brings you in here today?” He asks, resting his chin on one of his hands as he observes you. As Shalnark scans you up and down you can’t help but notice the mischievous look in those blue eyes of his. You kind of wondered what he was thinking, or possibly planning, but then again— knowing Shalnark —you didn’t want to know what was running through that brain of his.

“Can’t I just visit you?”

“I guess you could.” Shalnark comments halfheartedly as if you don’t already visit him for fun on the daily already, “I’m just surprised you haven’t gone home for your vacation. It’s your last shift tonight, right?”

Shalnark might have asked the last part as a question, but you already knew— from tons of experience with dealing with him —that he already formed his own answer in his head.

“Missed me that much huh?...” Shalnark whispers out, his eyes seeming to sparkle under the light as he leans back against the headboard of his bed.

“S-shut up.” You grumble out. Swiftly putting the paperwork in your hand up to your face as you could already feel your cheeks begin to flare up from flusteration. You swore this man had no sense of fear or dignity.

“Hmm?” You feel Shalnark grab at the paperwork wrinkled in your hand; recognizing his photo ID on the cover. “What’s this?”

“Paperwork.”

“What type of Paperwork?” Shalnark presses forward, already taking it from your hand to examine it. No matter how close you two have gotten during his stay, he has always been extremely thorough about looking at what you put down on his paperwork. Must be something he picked up while being in the troupe you guessed.

Suddenly, you see Shalnark’s gaze pause on a section of the paperwork. His body unintentionally freezing up in surprise as he rereads it again. However, instead of instantly asking or explaining his confusion, your eyes are trained to his lips, ever so slightly parted due to confusion.

Unconsciously, you run your fingers over your neck. Your mind flashing back to what happened when Shalnark was under the effect of the aphrodisiac drug. The tingly feeling of his lips raking up and down your neck. Kissing, sucking and biting at any possible skin he could—

“(Y/n), What is this?” He mumbles out, his eyes still trained to the paperwork.

“U-uh Well…” You pause for a second as you try to calm yourself down from your thoughts, thinking about what you should exactly say, “Recently, I’ve noticed you being quite down. Kind of depressed or miserable in a way—”

“Huh? I haven’t been depressed.” Shalnark exclaims, snapping out of the trance he was in as well as cutting off what you were saying.

“Let me finish idiot.” You grumble at Shalnark, flicking his forehead in anger. “Also even if you aren’t depressed—“

“Which I’m not.”

“...Do you want to get punched this time?” You threatened, watching as Shalnark suddenly broke out in a cold sweat. Memories flashing in his head of Lara pissing you off and facing your unwavering wrath. After one last glare, you continued what you were explaining, “As I was saying, Even if you aren’t depressed, it would be good for you to get out of the hospital. Hence why I decided to sign you out for my vacation week.”

It’s silent in the room as Shalnark just stares at you; an unreadable expression on his face. However, before you can figure out what expression it was, he quickly snaps out of it.

“Oh nice. That’s actually awesome.” Shalnark announces out, letting out a small giggle. “Just one question though… Is this even legal?”

“In a way…” You squeak out, watching as Shalnark looks at you with a knowing smile. Clearly understanding that you were pressing the line of legality and a possible felony in this situation.

“Well,” You watch as Shalnark shuffles out of bed; Planting his feet in front of yours before sending you a subtle wink, “Let’s get out of here before we get caught, okay?”

—.—.—.—.—.—

“So,” Shalnark starts, looking at the small white townhouse in front of him, “This is your house?”

“Um. Yeah?” You answer questioningly as you fiddle with your keys, “What about it?”

“Oh nothing.” You watch as Shalnark squats down in front of the garden gnome next to your tomato plant. Seeming to take in the plethora of plants covering your front patio. “It’s cute. I like it.”

“Thanks.” You mumble out bashfully as you unlock the front door, “I only rent the bottom floor of this place so it's quite small. But it's home.”

Before you enter, You offer a hand to help Shalnark up (He still has quite the injury in his legs after all) and watch as he walks inside your house; a limp still ever present as he walks. You just hope that he doesn’t push himself too far while with you. He might be a nen user but—

“Oh wow!” Shalnark’s voice calls out from inside the house, breaking your train of thoughts as you shut and lock the door. Confused yet curious at what he found interesting in your house, you slipped off your shoes—taking a small mental note that you should tell Shalnark to take off his as he forgot to— and walked over to his location. As you round the corner of the hall and gaze into your living room, you can’t help but let out a huff of a laugh. You can’t believe you totally forgot about Chloe.

There she stood, your 8 year old Sphynx cat that a college roommate had given you years ago, curled up in a fluffy blanket on top of her cat tree. Shalnark stood in front of the tree, looking up at the cat with an amused look as it glared down at him.

“Chloe.” You call out to your cat as you make your way next to Shalnark, “Come here baby.”

As you lift the cat off the tower, still wrapped in a blanket, and cradle her in your arms, you feel your breath hitch for a second. You turn your head as you feel a sudden pressure on your back and see Shalnark leaning over your shoulder. You stood there frozen and flustered, unable to move or look away from his face, from how close he was to you. However, Shalnark doesn’t notice how flustered you are; his attention focused on the cat in your arms. Eventually, he brings his hand down to pet her. Watching curiously as she sniffs his hand for a second before allowing him to touch her.

“They truly don’t have any fur…” Shalnark muses out as he rubs at Chloe’s ears, causing you to smile as you feel the rumbling of her purrs against your chest. “Hey (y/n)... did you know these guys are actually from Meteor city?”

“Wait… Really?” You shout out surprised, finally snapping out of the trance you were in.

“Yep!” Shalnark states rather proudly, “They were caused by accidental breeding by abandoned cats in the junkyards. …Though, the ones from Meteor city are quite rabid and terrifying so you can’t pet them like this. They would surely kill you.”

Startled, you give Shalnark a confused look, “No way…You're joking…”

“Nope.” He responds, popping the ‘p’ at the end as he walks away from you two and takes a seat on the couch. Your back suddenly feeling quite cold now that he was no longer next to you. “Even our toughest members like Phinks and Feitan were scared of those things.”

“Oh wow…“ You mumble out in amazement, placing Chloe back at the top level of the cat tree before taking a seat next to Shalnark. “...Meteor City sure sounds scary.”

“Eh, in a way.” Shalnark sighs out, stretching his back before suddenly resting his head on your lap. Startled at the act of affection, you freeze and stare down at him. Your mouth agape in shock. What… What was he doing?

“Oh.” Shalnark murmurs out as he takes note of your expression, already beginning to sit up, “Sorry, I stepped over a line didn’t I—”

“Ah! No!” You shout out, startling the both of you at how loud you were, “I mean… uh. I don’t mind, it just surprised me that’s all.”

“Oh. Okay?” Shalnark says, raising an eyebrow at you. As he sees your still worried expression looking down at him as he lays back down, he decides to flick at your forehead, surprising you. You two stare at each other for a couple of seconds before breaking out into light laughter at your stupid expression.

“W-what was that huh?”

As your laughter eventually stops, leaving you two in a comfortable silence, you stare down at Shalnark; his arms lazily crossed above his head with his eyes shut.

“You know…” You start, a stifle of a giggle sneaking up as a funny thought crosses your mind, “...You remind me of a cat right now.”

“Oh really?” Shalnark huffs out amused, popping one of his eyes open to gaze up at you.

“Yeah. All elongated on the couch, looking like you're about to fall fast asleep… Just like a little kitty cat.” You cooed out at him, taking two strands on the opposite sides of his head to form cat ears.

Shalnark sputters out a laugh before sending you a wink, “Go on. Give me a pet, Doc.”

You feel yourself freeze up as everything that has happened in these last couple of minutes hits you like a truck. Shit… You're his doctor, you idiot. This was what Mal was talking about about you getting too close with him. You have feeling for him but you can’t—

“Hey (y/n). You know…” Shalnark murmurs out, snapping you out of your thought, “One day…, I would like to take you to Meteor City.”

“R-really?” You answered, confused as where this was suddenly coming from.

“Yeah…” You watch as Shalnark eyes shift up towards the ceiling. His eyes unfocused and expression dazed as if he was off in a distant memory, “Not right now… But, In the spring…”

A smile slowly edges its way onto his face.

“Yeah… The spring,” He murmurs out again, sort of to himself, before looking at you, “You wouldn’t believe what it is like in Meteor City at the start of spring, (Y/n)... After a long hard rainy winter, seeds from rotten food, or hidden in garbage, come blooming out. It hardly lasts a month but… It’s gorgeous….”

As he stares up at you with those dazzling blue eyes of his, you can’t help but finally allow your hand to rest in his blonde locks. Wanting to understand more about that far off memory he had.

“I-I…” You murmur out, pausing as a small smile comes upon your face, “I can’t wait… Shal. Do… Do you think you could tell me more about your home while I wait?”

Just…

Just one more time, you’ll let your affections slide.

Allowing yourself to blur the lines of professionalism and wanting more.

Taglist: @meromelodi, @quartetstarheaven, @yumezai, @lvndrhwis, @writtenappreciation , @jojo-sinner, @pastelbear12, @aly-kurta, @bbunnycore, @feifood

[nightbloomwitch]

All the Wizards I've Loved Before - Inspirations for the Darkling: Dragonlance Legends: Time of the Twins - Book 1, Chapters 1-4, 6

<--- Previous part

I apologise in advance that this part is more about writing techniques and comparative mythology than it is about the Darkling's character. Raistlin doesn't appear in these chapters (except by mention), however it's in these first chapters that foundations are laid for the theme and central conflict, as well as the beginning of Caramon's character arc, and the contrast between the way these chapters are written when compared with similar scenes from S&B is too interesting to skip over, and I need to lay out some of these things now to refer back to in later chapters.

I find it faintly amusing that whilst Leigh is asked every other day about her inspirations for the Darkling (the refrain of "how did she create such a compelling 'original' character?" is quickly becoming very funny to me), to my knowledge, no one has ever asked her about her inspirations for Mal.

Mal fans should read Dragonlance, they have been missing out.

POV structure in epic fantasy

"I have no intention in this book of "defining" the term epic fantasy. Neither do I expect my polemics to convince anyone already opposed to my point of view...If I fail to define epic fantasy (except very roughly and in passing) in this essay I shall also fail to defend it for its own sake...only a little is outstandingly good and much of it, while it has attractive qualities of enthusiasm and vitality, has no literary merit"

- Michael Moorcock, Wizardry & Wild Romance: A Study of Epic Fantasy (1987)

In her interview with Liakeyes.com (April 2012), Leigh states that she

"...always thought of the Grisha Trilogy as High Fantasy or Epic Fantasy. Please don’t ask me to distinguish between these two things because I’ll start babbling about heroic quests, and word count..."

Unfortunately, she fails to define what she thinks "High Fantasy" and "Epic Fantasy" actually are and what she thinks the distinction between the two is. There is no industry standard definition of these terms. Lloyd Alexander, who coined the term "High Fantasy" in his 1971 essay High Fantasy and Heroic Romance , identifies the classic mythological epics (Beowulf, the Norse Eddas, The Song of Roland, the Matter of Britain, and so on) as the "fountainhead" from which modern high fantasy flows, which can be interpreted to mean that they are the same in spirit, or that one is descended from the other. Even Wikipedia considers High Fantasy and Epic fantasy to be the same thing; they share an entry.

Since we can't know precisely which criteria Leigh thinks define High and/or Epic fantasy (I honestly don't see how word count of all things could make a difference, The Well of the Unicorn is epic fantasy and that's less than 400 pages), let's limit our consideration to the books we know she was consciously imitating - Dragonlance, Eyes of the Dragon, The Stand (more like urban fantasy but it has an epic structure), The Dark Tower, ASOIAF; I'll also throw in Dune, since she refers to that a lot in interviews.

What all these epic and/or high fantasy novels have in common (apart from wizards) is that they all have large, rotating casts of POV characters of different ages, races, species, cultures, occupations, sexual orientations and gender identities. It is entirely possible to write brilliant, successful epic high fantasy in sole first-person POV (e.g. Chronicles of Amber and Book of the New Sun ), but one of the benefits of having a large, diverse POV cast in epic fantasy is that it expands the world - because the reader enters the POV of characters in different places and cultures, sometimes even time periods, and is able to see the way the events of each characters' journey is interconnected with all the others, the fantasy world and all its peoples and environments (hopefully) feels like something worth saving, rather than just the small corner of it inhabited by the protagonist.

This is one reason why the ending of TGT falls so flat - the destruction of the Shadow Fold by the otkazat'sya who have inherited Alina's powers is presumably supposed to be a triumphant reclamation of the land by its people, but it has no emotional resonance; the reader cares vastly more about Alina than they do about Ravka as a nation and the general population, because we've been exclusively in Alina's POV for the entire story. We don't even know these other people, and so we feel nothing for them, in fact we feel resentful that they have taken something precious from Alina. Why should the reader care about Ravka, when we have only seen it through Alina's eyes, and it has done nothing good for her? The main characters are very determined to defend the monarchy , (for some reason) but I never really got the sense that most of them love the country .

Secondly, a rotating POV cast allows for the use of techniques such as repetition of similar events in different contexts, and parallel character developments; it allows complex and nuanced exploration of the theme by showing it from different perspectives and in different circumstances.

For a non-fantasy example, consider the number of couples in Pride & Prejudice (which has an omniscient narrator with access to the thoughts and emotions of all the characters) . Each of the courtships explores different aspects of the theme (the overwhelming importance that social class and family reputation had on marriage in the Regency period); it wouldn't be possible to do so much examination of the theme with just one couple.

The relative brevity and simple plot of the novels when combined with the single POV also does no favours for the secondary characters. TGT is really only interested in Alina, the Darkling, and Mal, and the secondary characters mostly act as props for the love-triangle story - Genya is victimised by the Darkling to prove how evil he is, Alina is made to look magnanimous when she "forgives" Genya for her betrayal, Zoya is the skilled, beautiful "mean girl" for Alina to feel insecure in comparison to, Mal breaks up with Zoya which is supposed to prove his true love for Alina and show that he has grown beyond being a shallow fuckboy. Nikolai occasionally has a bit more to him because he's the author's pet, but he still fills the role of "handsome, rich, charming, powerful, all-round better man whom Alina nonetheless rejects because of her true love for Mal".

I find it strange that Leigh chose to use an opposite POV structure to all these books she admires so much, and apparently didn't understand the devastating effect that would have on the audience's perception of the story, characters and themes. In her interview with Deliciousreads.com on 26 September 2014, she says that in early drafts of S&B when it was a standalone novel, "There was originally a split POV between Mal and Alina," which I imagine would have shown Mal's quest to hunt the stag, would have at least attempted to convince the audience of the depth of his feelings for Alina, and would have brought the POV and plot structure much closer to the other stories that inspired TGT.

Certainly she and the creative team for the show have come to realise after the fact the terrible impact this decision had on the audience's view of his character, hence Mal's POV being restored in the show. Obviously this is not any kind of justification of Mal's appalling behaviour towards Alina in the novels; the reason I mention it is because while covering these chapters of Legends I had the horrifying realisation that as Raistlin is to the Darkling, and Crysania is to Alina, Caramon is to Mal. (How dare she).

The theme of Legends is that unselfish love is the most powerful force in the world - love saves, love heals, love redeems. Attempting to use love to gain something (power over others, personal validation) is harmful to oneself and others. The characters are given multiple opportunities to learn and understand the theme during the story; those who have accepted the theme by the end are rewarded with happiness, those who reject or fail to understand the theme fail to achieve their goal. Also, it's a positive theme, the characters have to learn to do something they were not doing at the beginning of the story, and if they can learn to do it, it will make their lives better.

It is a tragedy, the characters who fail to understand the lesson are harshly punished for the sins of pride and ambition, however the ending of this trilogy still isn't as cruel as R&R. In the afterword, the authors' stated purpose was to write "a quest [about]...saving a soul," (this is not paid off in the expected manner, however I content that it is paid off in a way that's acceptable ), whereas TGT is a quest to destroy a soul.

The lesson here is the opposite to TGT, where Alina is supposed to harden her heart against the Darkling, until in the end she has become vicious enough to kill him; her compassionate nature is a weakness that causes her to fall for his schemes. In Dragonlance, romantic and family bonds are the most valuable and precious things, and it is by caring for family, even the ones that have betrayed, manipulated, gone down a dark path and done terrible things, that all souls are saved. Sometimes loving someone means letting them go, but it never means killing them.

Book 1, Chapters 1-4

The theme about love is established in the first four chapters, which follow the rest of the cast from the Chronicles trilogy. It's been two years since the end of Chronicles , and the band of heroes have all married one another. One by one, they arrive at the Inn of the Last Home in Solace (the "hometown" of Dragonlance, where it all began). These chapters deliberately mirror the opening chapters of Chronicles, in order to demonstrate how much the characters and the world have changed in the time since, and which things have remained the same.

Both first chapters start out with Tika in the Inn; in Chronicles , she’s the barmaid, and it’s an ordinary day; in Legends , she’s a war hero having a PTSD flashback and the novel spends f our entire pages outlining how miserable she is in excruciating detail. In Chronicles, Tanis comes home and sees his oldest and dearest friend Flint for the first time in years, and they have a tearful reunion. In Legends, Flint is dead, but Tanis still hears the memory of his voice. The quest of Chronicles begins when a mysterious woman with the magic of the gods arrives at the inn, pursued by the forces of darkness. The quest of Legends begins when...a mysterious woman with the magic of the gods arrives at the inn, pursued by the forces of darkness.

As the old heroes arrive, we are introduced to all these contrasting marriages and their domestic joys and struggles -

Tanis Half-Elven has married Laurana, the princess of the Qualinesti (Tolkien: Wood) elves, they have a long history and are very happy together, but he is still uncomfortable being fully immersed in Elven society, his father-in-law has just died, and although he has never gotten along with the in-laws of course there will be a terrible scene if he doesn't make it to the funeral on time.

Laurana's brother has entered a marriage of convenience with Alhana, this is described as "not a marriage of love...[but] a marriage that will help restore order to the world." Alhana had been in true love with Sturm, one of the heroes who tragically died in Chronicles. She will never truly love again, but she has married for the sake of the world's peace, and does have some influence over her husband.

The Plains tribes are on the brink of war (as always), but the chieftains Riverwind and Goldmoon are perfectly happy and already have three kids in two years(!!) - a son and twin daughters.

Tika married Caramon (Raistlin's twin brother); she is obviously in terrible distress about something she won't talk about, and is trying to pretend everything is normal. Everyone keeps asking her where Caramon is and she keeps making excuses.

In a truly shocking twist, it is revealed that the marriage is falling apart because Caramon - one of the most kind-hearted, hard-working, self-sacrificing heroes of Chronicles , a man who values family above all else - has become a wretched, disgusting drunkard who is completely unrecognisable to even his oldest, dearest friends.

The reason for all this misery is that Raistlin never came home with them to Solace but instead shut himself away in the Tower of High Sorcery to study dark magic. Although he has married Tika, Caramon freely admits that his poor frail little brother will always be first in his heart, and is clearly more worried about Raistlin (wherever he is, whatever he may be doing) than he is about his wife who is right there the whole time.

This is all so fucking horrid. It really, really fucking hurts to read about the lives of these beloved characters spiraling out of control, all because of the actions of another character, who has his own serious problems (Raistlin is equally beloved, though he makes it damned hard sometimes); I can never read these chapters without crying.

The grand point of it all is: nobody is an island, even if they want to be, every choice we make affects the people who love us and has a ripple effect on the rest of the world. We're now in a situation where Tanis has to choose between staying in Solace to support Tika, or moving on to meet up with his wife's family. On the one hand, Tika is borderline suicidal; on the other hand, missing the elven king's funeral could cause a political incident that will hugely set back the tenuous post-war human-elven relations, and none of this would be happening if Raistlin had just come home with them after the last adventure. Visited occasionally. Written them a letter (that wasn't completely hateful). Anything.

This is High Fantasy, but it's so viscerally real, and it has a greater scope and levels of complication that S&B doesn't have, because it’s genuinely interested in the love that people have for “the villain”, even when that love does great harm to them, whereas S&B never seriously entertains the idea that the Darkling might be worth saving, that he might have some points, that maybe Alina's personal liberty is worth giving up if it means ending all wars and ending Grisha persecution, that she might have some obligation to listen to the wishes of her own people who do agree with the Darkling and respect him as their leader, and so on, and so on. It isn't possible to get a proper appreciation of anyone else's lived experience because everything is filtered through Alina's POV. For example, in a brief exchange at the end of S&B, we hear that the reason for Ivan's intense loyalty to the Darkling is because his entire family has been killed serving in the wars, but it wouldn't be in character for Alina to be able have a deep understanding of that trauma because she's never had a family (other than Mal), and I don't think it's possible to summarise that kind of pain in half a page and treat it with the appropriate seriousness. Ivan’s loyalty to the Darkling is treated as a flaw because it causes him to excuse the Darkling’s “evil”, and in S&S he dies for it, but we’re never allowed to see any positive side of it from Ivan’s own POV such as the strength and sense of purpose it gives him.

I'll be coming back to these chapters later on, with regard to the fact that Raistlin has a surprisingly high number of people who care for him and advocate for him in this book, whereas the Darkling is not permitted to have those things.

The White Goddess

Robert Graves' 1948 (revised 1952)The White Goddess is a thoroughly inscrutible monster of a book - part anthropological, part literary, part polemical, part autobiographical - and most of the "historical facts" stated within are completely bunk; nevertheless, it was in universal circulation in the English-language literary scenes of the late 20th century, and thus had a massive impact on fiction and poetry of the time, and from there, popular culture. As such, it remains an invaluable cipher to interpret late 20th century SFF texts and their descendants, such as TGT.

I haven't been able to find any confirmation of whether Leigh has read the book (though I'd be surprised if she hasn't). In any case, the Goddess myth explored in the book is the basis of the plots of both Legends and TGT.

Everything Graves considers to be True Art (take this term with a mountain of salt) depicts some scene or episode from the story he calls the Single Poetic Theme, a sort of ur-text that forms the universal basis of world mythology:

"The Theme, briefly, is the antique story...of the birth, life, death and resurrection of the God of the Waxing Year; the central chapters concern the God's losing battle with the God of the Waning Year for love of the capricious and all-powerful Threefold Goddess, their mother, bride, and layer-out."

- Robert Graves, The White Goddess: A Historical Grammar of Poetic Myth (1948)

The story is a mythological metaphor for the cycles of nature - day and night, summer and winter, life and death. The world is personified in the Goddess, and the opposite states of nature which the world cycles through are personified by the twin gods, or sacred kings, ever at war but in balance with one another. The “Waxing Year", is representative of the current season, the status quo, the social structure and character relationships in place at the beginning of the story. The "Waning Year" is the dark half of the year, or the winter season. For the Goddess, the King of the Waning Year is cognate with the mythological 'dark man' or 'predator' who is physically and/or sexually threatening; his appearance signals

"...a psychic change from one level of knowing and behaviour to another more mature or more energetic level of knowledge and action."

- Dr Clarissa Pinkola Estes, Women Who Run With the Wolves (1992)

In TGT, Alina plays the role of the Goddess to both Mal and the Darkling, who are the ‘twin’ Kings, by virtue of the fact that they are both the descendents of Ilya. To Mal, Alina represents the ‘mother’ because she has been with him since childhood, and takes on a symbolic mother role (simliar to the Virgin Mary) in S&S when he becomes a soldier of the Sol Koroleva cult; she is the bride (obvious, and they do actually marry in the end); and she is the layer-out because she kills him in R&R in order to obtain his power as an amplifier. Like the sacred kings in the myths from which the story template is derived, Mal is ritually sacrificed but later resurrected, and his association with the Firebird is symbolic of the light and fire of summer, the “Waxing Year”.

To the Darkling, Alina is a mother figure because when he meets her, he is ‘reborn’; if we believe his words, then this is the first time for a long time that he has had hope; the Darkling is often associated with imagery of death, but in RoW his memory of his time with Alina in TGT is that “with her, he was human again”. She is the bride (once again, obvious), and the layer-out because she does kill him in the end; his frequent descriptions using imagery of coldness and stark black, white and grey colours identifies him as the King of the Winter season, or the “Waning Year”. The Darkling's appearance prompts Alina's "psychic change" by revealing her powers and taking her away from her familiar surroundings to the Little Palace.

Unlike Mal (and the mythological sacred kings), there’s no hint of the Darkling’s resurrection in R&R, but in Leigh's interview with Lifestyle Inquirer, 19 June 2015, she did say

"I don’t want to close all the doors, there are uncertainties at the end of “Ruin and Rising,” even in certain deaths that aren’t necessarily forever."

The most obvious interpretation is that the death she’s referring to is Mal’s but that doesn’t really strike me as an “uncertainty”: he died, he was resurrected, an explanation was given (no matter how poorly foreshadowed it was). But another characteristic of all these wizards the Darkling is based on is that they have a habit of returning from the dead; I don’t think she had the plot of KoS planned in advance, but perhaps even at the time of writing R&R she had considered the idea of bringing him back if she ever wrote a sequel.

In Legends, Crysania is the Goddess; as seen in the previous chapter, the prologue reveals her loyalty to Elistan and the god Paladine (the powers of light, Waxing Year), she pursues Raistlin (the dark man, Waning Year), and Caramon (Raistlin’s twin, also representative of the Waxing Year) is sent on the quest to retrieve her from falling victim to the powers of darkness.

TGT has a similar quest structure to this, where Alina (the Goddess) is “captured” by the Darkling, and we later find that Mal has gone on his own (unseen) quest to retrieve her, by hunting the stag so he can gain entry to the Palace.

Mal is “inspired" by Caramon (and Jack from Legend and possibly Eddie Dean from The Dark Tower, we’ll get to them in time) in the same way that the Darkling is “inspired” by Raistlin, which is to say that they have physical characteristics in common, some of the same things happen to them in the story – they’re both handsome military boys with curly brown hair and blue eyes, both have a string of casual flings before eventually settling down with the girl from back home, who was there all along; Mal’s descent into drunken thuggery in S&S recalls the way Caramon starts out in this book; Mal’s dalliance with Zoya in S&S (which he blames on Alina because she’s changed) recalls the part in Legends where Caramon claims to love Crysania, however she rejects him, knowing that he is using her to replace his true love for Tika, since she may not take him back in the end.

All of this comes back to the same problem I concluded with in the previous chapter about management of expectations. Caramon is pretty unlikeable at certain points in this book but it works because he was already a hero in the previous trilogy; the audience and the other characters already love him and we want to see him get better and be happy, because we know he’s better than this. It’s also easier to sympathise with him because while he’s become the abusive husband, we know that the reason for this is that he’s suffering in a different abusive relationship with his brother; his fatal flaw is having too much (unreciprocated) love for another person, and it’s very diffcult to condemn a character who loves. Unlike Mal, we know the truth and depth of his feelings because we’re often in his POV.

In the beginning of S&B, Mal is nobody to us, we have no prior attachment to him so he just progresses from being unlikeable to being eminently hateable. Alina’s memories of childhood happiness in The Meadow as a device to encourage the readers’ attachment to Mal don’t have anywhere near the same weight as an entire previous trilogy of novels from his POV.

In her blog post of September 8, 2012 (deleted now, but the screenshot is in the introduction post of this series), Leigh said:

"He was inspired by every goblin king, dark wizard, and troublesome gent I ever fell for (usually harder than for the hero)."

I find it interesting that here she chose to refer to the "dark wizard" specifically in opposition to "the hero" whom she feels like she was supposed to fall for , because it implies something about the way she understood the theme and the roles of the characters in Legends. In the Goddess stories, it’s important to understand that neither of the Gods/Kings is the villain – they represent opposite aspects of nature, amd the existence of both is necessary for the survival of the world, which is why they are constantly renewed in the cycle of death and resurrection. Each is only “evil” from the other’s POV, because neither of them wants to lose their grasp on the Goddess’ power and thus fears being defeated and usurped by his rival.

I wonder whether Leigh regards Caramon (Waxing) as The (sole) Hero of Legends, and Raistlin (Waning) as The Villain. From my point of view, that’s really not how it’s presented in the books - the whole story is about everyone trying to save Raistlin and giving him all these chances to stop what he’s doing; he can just come home at any time and everyone will take him back with open arms (some more reluctantly than others, but no one’s arguing for him to be imprisoned or executed or anything). He is the antagonist in the sense that he’s the one causing all the problems, but I don’t believe the reader is ever supposed to feel hateful towards him. Generally whenever he says/thinks/does something awful, shortly afterwards he'll say/think/do something decent or someone will argue in his favour, or something terrible will happen to him, which balances it out and encourages the reader feel sympathetic again.

"But, don't you see, Caramon - you have followed him into darkness! And you're dying by inches! Raistlin himself told you to walk your own path and let him walk his. But you haven't done that! You're trying to walk both paths..."

...

"But you are not coming back to me as husband or even friend until you come back at peace with yourself."

...

"Maybe that'll be never," Caramon said surlily. "Ever think of that, huh, my fine lady?"

"Yes," Tika said steadily.

"I've thought of it. Good-bye, Caramon."

Toxic co-dependence is actually the main obstacle of Caramon's character development in Legends . When his brother rejects him, he has this complete breakdown, and Tika has to learn to toughen up and get by without him, until she throws him out of the house.

Then in Chapter 6, Tas confronts him:

"All you've done, all these years, is whine! The noble Caramon, sacrificing everything for his ungrateful brother. Loving Caramon, always putting Raistlin first!...You only did it because it made you feel good!

Raistlin didn't need you - you needed him! You lived his life because you're too scared to live a life of your own!"

To relate this back to what I said at the beginning of the post about the theme being about unselfish love - Caramon's love for Raistlin is regarded as selfish because he uses it as a crutch to assure himself of his own goodness, and as an excuse to avoid having to make choices. His entire arc in this trilogy is about letting go of his lifelong overattachment to his brother and living his own life.

As we know, Alina's character development is constantly crippled because of her dependence on Mal, and she is never allowed to get over it; even when he dies at the end, he immediately comes back and any progress that could have been made is undone.

I wonder if Leigh interpreted the lesson of Caramon's arc specifically as "codependence on an evil person is unhealthy" rather than just "codependence is unhealthy". In TGT, every bad thing that happens to everyone is made to be the Darkling's fault (e.g. the King assaulting Genya); perhaps her interpretation of Legends was that Raistlin was toxic to Caramon and thus this caused Caramon to become toxic to Tika, the marriage breakdown was all Raistlin's fault and Caramon doesn't bear any of the fault for it because he's "the hero" and thus must be in the right and/or the victim of "the villain".

I find it upsetting that everything is always made to be about the men and Alina's story is always made to be about the Darkling and Mal; there's the same kind of insidious misogyny in this interpretation where Raistlin/Caramon is the only toxic relationship that matters and Caramon/Tika is just blamed on the emotional manipulation of the villain; I feel like it takes away some of the impact of the fact that Tika is the first one to stand up for herself and break off the toxic relationship; she just decides for herself to do it, no one tells her to, and it's not really anything to do with "standing up to/not giving in to the villain", she does it for herself because it's what she wants.

Tika gets so ashamed about her friends finding out how bad her life has become, and that's not quite enough to push her over the edge, but then she is the only one of the group to realise that Crysania is in love with Raistlin; it doesn't directly say this in the text but I think when Crysania says she wants to "reclaim" her man, that's when Tika realises that cutting her husband off is the only way there's a chance that she can force him to change - that's the only way she can "reclaim" him; and then that's the only reason why Caramon goes on his character development/healing journey (Tika is the real hero of Legends).

The roughly equivalent Mal/Alina scene isn't like this; in the scene in S&B where they have the argument in the Little Palace, Mal leaves and the scene lingers on Alina, she wants to "run after him, to take back what I'd said, to beg him to stay," and in the next chapter

'"Come back," I whispered, my body shaking with fresh sobs...I knew I would probably never see him again, and I ached with it."

This extended focus on Alina's distress feels humiliating and it really puts the emphasis on the fact that she (feels she) made a mistake, whereas in Legends its in Tas' POV and all it says is as they leave he can hear "grief-stricken sobbing." It's made obvious that Tika is horribly upset at having to do this but the writing doesn't ever humiliate her or imply that she's made the wrong choice.

I had two paragraphs about themes in TGT which didn't make the cut, but the point was that there's an inherent cruelty in the writing of TGT, because punishment is built in to the delivery of the lesson to the character(s). (The reason why the paragraphs didn't make the cut was because I was getting too tied up in knots debating about whether the themes could be proven to apply to characters other than Alina).

The theme of TGT is widely agreed by the audience to be that greed is corruptive, and I think that is the best and clearest possible reading for the text, however Leigh herself is strangely inconsistent on this point. In her interview for Desert News on 29 September 2015, she identified the themes of the story as:

...sacrifice, friendship, the lure of power, the things we're willing to give up for the sake of belonging to someone or something.

"The lure of power" presumably refers to greed; "friendship" is too vague to talk about, for something to be a theme you have to say more about it than "it exists in the story"; "sacrifice" and "the things we're willing to give up..." are effectively the same thing. This last one is the real winner, I think - she has described it in those same words in more than one interview. If we take the themes as "greed" and "sacrifice", I think of both of those as negative themes, because they require the character(s) to give up something that they want, in exchange for "belonging" or the greater good.

In relation to the palace scene mentioned above, by treating Alina as though she's in the wrong, the text asserts that Alina is being "greedy" for liking her new life at the Palace and "the way the Darkling looks at her", she is "sacrificing" her friendship with Mal in order to "belong" to the Darkling, whereas Mal is in the right because he asserts that the Darkling doesn't "own" him (i.e. Mal belongs to himself and he won't sacrifice his freedom). Alina is made to learn the lesson when emotional pain is inflicted on her - she loses her friendship with Mal, and straight afterwards she loses the Darkling as well; whereas in Legends, when Tika accepts the lesson (that she needs to throw Caramon out for his own good, and hers), she is rewarded because her life immediately gets better; although this argument scene is vastly worse than the one in S&B because it's the (temporary) end of a marriage, somehow it actually hurts me less to read about it.

Next part --->

[elenyafinwe]

“Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I will write a 5 sentence fic about it.”

minato, jackasseries

That one was tricky because I had to google that word 😅 Don't know if I really got it. But here you go. Hypotaxis my beloved.

Minato loved to tease Tobirama, to pick on him a little here and there, and sometimes even to make him irate, thus breaking through his carefully cultivated façade of the aloof shinobi. It did him good to blow off steam, Minato was convinced of that, even if Tobirama naturally saw it differently. Tobirama was naturally averse to such jackasseries, as he called it, and he did everything he could to avoid showing it at all costs when he did find it amusing; the tiny smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth was then quickly hidden and covered up. It was a triumphant victory for Minato every time. Tobirama was headstrong and stubborn, but somehow that was exactly what Minato loved about him, along with all the other things that made Tobirama so wonderful.

Send me a ship/character(s) and a one word prompt and I write a 5 sentence minific.

Original again under the cut.

Minato liebte es, Tobirama zu triezen, ihn hier und da ein klein wenig zu piesacken und manchmal sogar zur Weißglut zu bringen und damit seine sorgfältig kultivierte Fassade des unnahbaren Shinobi zu durchbrechen. Es tat ihm gut, Dampf abzulassen, davon war Minato überzeugt, auch wenn Tobirama das natürlich anders sah.

Tobirama war solchem Unfug, wie er es nannte, natürlich abgeneigt, und er tat alles dafür, um sich auf gar keinen Fall anmerken zu lassen, wenn er es doch einmal amüsant fand; schnell wurde dann das winzige Schmunzeln versteckt und überspielt, das an seinen Mundwinkeln zupfte.

Es war jedes Mal aufs Neue ein triumphaler Sieg für Minato. Tobirama war eigenwillig und starrsinnig, aber irgendwie war es genau das, was Minato so an ihm liebte, zusammen mit all den anderen Dingen, die Tobirama so wundervoll machten.

[hitchell-mope]

Answering a character ask meme for Ben.

Favourites thing(s) about this character? His kindness and physical appearance.

What song(s) remind you of this character? Human by Christina Perri. Superman (it’s not easy) by five for fighting.

Do you like this character? Yes. He’s my favourite character in the franchise.

Would you write about this character? He’s a major player in almost all my au’s

What do you not like about this character? How he got shafted by the fans and adverts in favour of the utter prick Harry Hook.

Favourite thing this character has said? It’s a toss up between “mom won’t let him in the couch” and “it’s up to us dad”

What do you like most about this character? See number one.

Do you think this character is underrated or overrated? Ben is SEVERELY underrated.

What’s your favourite headcanon(s) for this character? He’s lethally good at laser tag and paintball

Who do you like to ship with this character? (If you do of course) Is it another character from the cast or is it an OC? My otp for him is bal.

Who do you not like to ship with this character? By notp’s for him are baudrey and benrry

Have you read any fics about this character? (if it’s not an OC)? Can you recommend anything good? I don’t read a lot for fan fiction.

Contrary wise if it is an OC, what’s your favourite story with them in it you’ve written? Well he’s not an OC but I’ve written a lot of au’s where he’s a major player.

What outfit would you really like to see this character wear? Or what’s your favourite outfit of theirs? My favourite outfit of his is the navy suit with the elbow patches. I’d love to see him in a purple version of that though.

Favourite line of theirs? Again. It’s a toss up between “mom won’t let him in the couch” and “it’s up to us dad”

What do you think would improve this character? Like, character-arc wise? Duets with Mal. And scathing call-outs at his parents, Verna, huma and Chaudrey

Have you ever had a crush on this character…? Does aesthetic attraction count?

What’s something you associate this character with? E.g. a certain colour, object or scenery? Crowns. Yellow. The enchanted lake

What would the show/book/movie be like if this character wasn’t present? (if it’s not an OC). Oh so very bleak since he’s the catalyst for everything that happens. No Ben. No proclamation. Not isle program. If there’s no Ben then there’s no story.

Contrary wise, if this character is an OC, how does their presence change the story? N//A

Wild card! Talk about anything to do with this character! Anything at all! Bens core personality traits are goodness, fairness and compassion. But that doesn’t mean he’s a total push over. Fans think Mal walked all over him in their relationship but apart from him rightfully yelling at her in d2 he let her take the reins more often than not. He must’ve known what his folks and Verna were up to. But they cornered Mal. And shouting at them when an already stressed and upset Mal was there wouldn’t have done any good. You could tell that it hurt both of them to make the decision to close the island. Mal was getting manipulated and he didn’t want to upset her. And you could tell he hated it. But since he wasn’t directly asked he must’ve thought it best not to put his foot in. That’s why “it’s up to us dad” is one of my favourite Ben lines. Short, swift, sweet and location appropriate call out for the git that manipulated his fiancée

[kallypsowrites]

I honestly feel like LB had to kill off the Darkling in order to make Malina work. She had written herself into a corner by inadvertently making them frustrated soulmates. Regardless of her love for Mal, Alina clearly felt something real for Aleksander; he was always going to be an obstacle for Malina, and due his immortality, he'd end up being "not her first love, but her last one" (to paraphrase Klaus Mikhelson). I think S&B is going to be extra clear on that especially with Ben and Jessie.

I think even if Mal didn’t exist/wasn’t Alina’s love interest, the Darkling was always going to die. Basically from book 2 onward, that was the story she was writing and if she was going to redeem the Darkling/have Alina go corrupt, it needed to happen starting in book 2.

That being said, you’re right about one thing. if the Darkling lived AND Alina kept her powers, then Alina would outlive Mal and there would be a possibility of eventual Darklina. So the Darkling has to die and Alina has to become a normal human.

Personally, I would have prefered both the Darkling and Mal die if that meant Alina could keep her powers but that’s just meeeeeeeeee.