#man i love children and their horrible color schemes

[reccord-raccoon]

fire emblem siblings week 2023 day 1: challenge/clothes

here's to the Goneril siblings and their honorary brother Balthus who couldn't keep up with them if he tried

drabble under the cut!

"SAVE ME!" Hilda screamed as she ran across the glade. But the screams cascaded into giggles as her brother caught up to her.

"That's what you get for stealing my shirt!" Holst said, trying not to laugh as he grabbed her.

No matter how hard she tried Hilda could not wiggle out of his grasp. The years of age and actual training he had on her meant Hilda was officially doomed. So she did what any real Goneril warrior would do.

She pretended to faint.

It was far from the first time she'd done so.

"Hilda," Holst groaned, drawing out the word in exasperation.

"I'll save you, princess! I challenge you to a duel, villain!" Huffing and puffing behind them, Balthus leveled a stick at Holst.

One of Hilda's eyes peaked open. "Took you long enough, slow poke!"

"Hey it's not my fault you guys are so fast!"

"Well, I- whoa!" Holst dipped down, Hilda supported on one arm, and grabbed a stick from the grass.

"Your stinkin' sword is no match for my Fr- Fre-"

"Freikugel," whispered Hilda.

"For my Freikugel! Mwa ha ha!"

Balthus rushed them and Holst defended his limp, giggling sister to the best of his ability. But his best was not enough.

Crouching Balthus called, "Hilda!" and she sprung to life.

Running from Holst, she lept onto her rescuer's back. Who, to his credit, only stumbled for a moment before sprinting off.

"Hey!" Holst called after them, "give me my sister back!"

Hilda twisted and blew a raspberry back at him.

As was inevitable, Holst quickly caught up with them. The servant sent to bring them in for luncheon found them in a giggling pile, the boys clutching their sticks and Hilda grinning between them.

@fireemblemsiblingsweek ;)

[hellcheer-heaven]

After my latest s4 rewatch, I told some of the highlights to a friend who hasn't watch ST (and wasn't planning to; the genre isn't their cup of tea). When I reached the part about the aftermath of Chrissy's death, I said that I found particularly funny and infuriating that Jason accused Eddie of being a cult leader when he himself acted like one, rallying up his crownies and eventually getting the town on his 'hunt the freak' scheme. Then they said "oh, like Gaston?". Not saying BatB Hellcheer au (bc I personally don't like the Disney version and Beast's backstory is too further away from Eddie's) but there were def too many parallels between Jason and Gaston in canon, there would've been more than a few between Chrissy and Belle has she lived, and the most glaring one would've been their relationship once appearances were cast aside and Jason showed his true colors. What do you think?

I can definitely see what your friend and you meant by the parallels between ST/Hellcheer and BatB! I pretty much saw it after my first re-watch of season 4. I’ll try my best to explain using the disney version here while I give my two cents, and I’ll divide the sections with pictures too.

Town Hero

Jason and Gaston are quite similar, given that they're seen as the town hero that many people adore. Their looks, skills, charm, and being at the top of the pyramid allows for a large portion of the town to trust them wholeheartedly. They're seen as "perfect,” , thus they "can do no wrong" in the eyes of their peers. When they deem the Beast and Eddie as threats to their way of life, many people blindly follow whatever they say because Jason and Gaston are seen as a beacon of safety and hope. These "perfect" men found the answer to what's been plaguing the town of terrible things, so who better to follow than the self appointed leader who promises to get rid of the "threat" in order to make things right again.

“It’s Time to Follow Me!”

In terms of having a partner, Gaston’s interest in Belle is more for social status and as a means to boost his already inflated ego. He’s obnoxious and boastful, seeing Belle as another trophy to display in his already amazing life. He’s mean, but not bloodthirsty.

It's only later on his villainous intentions are revealed when he sees that the Beast is indeed real. When he hears how Belle speaks so positively about something so monstrous looking, that threatens Gaston's only chance of taking her for himself. His anger/jealously fuels him to use his power over the people to get them to do whatever he wants. This time Gaston is out for blood, cementing his change into a metaphorical beast.

As for Jason, a part me does believe that he did love Chrissy very much. He fell into despair the moment he heard about her death, so I don’t blame him for experiencing such raw feelings of loss and anger. He couldn’t bear the fact that the love of his life is gone. He wanted answers, he wanted justice to be served in the most twisted manner possible, and he was willing to do anything to avenge Chrissy’s death.

That of course doesn’t justify his decisions to beat up Eddie's friends, make a speech to get people on his side, and threaten to shoot Lucas and Max. I don’t know how religious Hawkins is, but I can imagine that many were not too keen on anything having to do with D&D and metal music even before the mysterious murders started happening.

Jason found his “answer” by pinning Eddie as a “satanic cult leader” for both Chrissy’s and Patrick’s horrible demise. He already has his preconceived ideas about Eddie, but Jason was past the point of reasoning and fanned the flames of hysteria. Cementing his metaphorical transformation from man to beast just like Gaston. In fact this short passage from "The Mob Song" sums up the dangerous side of mob mentality.

We don't like What we don't understand In fact it scares us And this monster is mysterious at least

Bring your guns Bring your knives Save your children and your wives We'll save our village and our lives We'll kill the Beast!

Something There

Now let’s look at the couple. While Eddie and Chrissy were given just a little bit of screen time together, you can absolutely see the chemistry between them during the bench scene (honestly all that scene was missing was a musical number). It felt like the beginning of what could have been a wonderful story between them. Sadly we'll never know if they could have just been friends or friends to lovers. But that's the beauty of fanfiction, people can create a world of what could have been. I'll share some headcanons (combo of ones that I’ve read and my own) regarding what might have happened if Chrissy and Eddie were allowed to live for the rest of the season.

They're both lonely, which surprises the other because they both seem so happy whenever they cross paths.

They learn to look past their already established preconceived notions about each other based on their social circles. i.e. Cheerleaders are mean girls, metalheads are vicious.

They both need to wear a socially acceptable mask in order to fit in with everyone around them.

Chrissy had a secret crush on Eddie growing up and still does. She's been told to steer clear of him because he's "dangerous," but that somehow still makes him attractive. So when she sees that he's actually a huge goofball, that doesn't diminish her feelings towards him.

Eddie is a hopeless romantic. He may have "cynical eyes," but he believes in things like "love at first sight" and "love conquers all." This of course blinds him to the reality that sometimes relationships aren't as cookie cutter like in a fairy tale.

They would share bits and pieces of what it was like for them growing up, which again surprises the other. Yet this helps to strengthen their relationship.

The two of them learn to see that there's more to each other than what's on the outside, which if it was done well would have made for a beautiful story.

Anyway I hope I was able to answer your question as best as I could.

[repo-net]

Broken Families

Gloomy, red clouds devoured and covered the entirety of the dusk sky over Towa City. The atmosphere similar to that of a warzone wasn't helped by the smoky pollution in the air caused by factories and buildings spread over the city, and the metallic smell of blood wafting everywhere.

Completely emotionless to it was a blue boy on standby, pressing on what was a black earpiece closer to his head. The boy was sat on top of an enormous mechanical robot just towering over citizens and the smaller-sized houses around it. The robot resembled that of a guerilla soldier, with a brown and sandy color scheme, and topped off as it was armed with a sniper rifle.

He was in the middle of a conversation with someone on the other side, as he fidgeted around with the joysticks on the controller for his robot that was strapped around his neck. In a passive and soft voice, he'd speak.

"Do I have to do this? There's only a couple of demons in this part of town, I really doubt it's necessary for me to have to go here myself when we could just throw a few Monokumas here and call it a day. I'd rather be spending my time disciplining that new servant we captured..."

"Are you backing out, Nagisa? Don't tell me that you don't want to get rid of those horrible, demonic adults we all hate? Monaca thinks you're acting very strangely right now..."

"N-No, it's just... I feel like this is a waste of resources..."

His voice was full of mixed emotions, from a frugality that wishes he didn't have to be using precious bullets on a single household, to the annoyance that was having to deal with smelling the stench of dirtied air, or the small, locked away part of his heart that really just doesn't want to be involved with killing people.

"All the other Warriors of Hope are happily doing their job. Masaru's been super proud of his score, y'know... you're the one with the lowest points out of all of us by far. Monaca's just giving you a chance to play the game she loves so much, Nagisa. Don't you like playing games?"

... Did his behavior and repeated indifference to what they were doing not give any hints to her? He scratched his head at that.

"Not particularly..."

"You know what? Monaca'll tell you this; if you can rack up more points than anyone today, Monaca will give you a super, duper huge reward when you get back! The greatest of all! Don't you want to save the children of this world? You have the Monokuma Kid helmets with you, right? Then all Monaca asks is that you get rid of those disgusting demons, and turn any remaining kids to our side. And if you don't, well... I'll be very disappointed in you, Nagisa."

His heart froze and his mind turned blank at those last few words. She'll be let down? Because of his selfishness and laziness to not complete a simple task such as this? When he's done it plenty of times in the past already? How dare he. He was taking her for granted.

To think that she was generous enough to even give him an apparent 'reward' if he just played along with them for once... that feeling of refusal to disappoint his princess and be praised for his hard work overwhelmed any sort of resistance that his brain had for the current situation.

"No no no, okay! I understand... Alright, I'll handle this side of the city myself. I'm already here, anyways..."

"Wonderful! That's our ever reliable sage Nagisa to you! Always ready to do his job. When you come back, Monaca will prepare a biiiiig surprise for all of us! Okay? Good luck out there!"

With the sound of the signal in his earpiece cutting off, he took a moment to collect his surroundings and relax for a bit. A sigh left his body as he eyed down the streets that he watched from up high on his trusty mech.

In the corner of his eye, he spots it...

Two demons; one male, and one female. A trail of blood following them into an alleyway. Adult-sized. The woman was clinging and using the man's shoulder to even move. They seemed to be struggling... unable to even defend themselves.

A pitiful sight. But Nagisa knew only one thing left in his head; put them out of their misery.

Pressing the stick forward and having it's gun ready and aimed, he led it to the alleyway that the two adults had cornered themselves in. He realized quickly that the mech was too large to fit and move around properly in the area, so he begrudgingly took the backpack that had the Monokuma Kids helmet inside of it and put it on himself, then dropped down with the help of the cape on the mech's back, sliding down on it's side like it was a pole before falling safely.

Arming himself with a gun that fired injection needles rather than bullets (it was still more than enough to kill people while avoiding the damage the power of a regular bullet can do with it's recoil) in his hand, he followed the bloody trail, turning a few times, before finally encountering the nameless adults.

"It's okay, it's okay... it's going to be okay. We're almost there. Just please, hold on to me a little longer..."

Those were the words Nagisa walked in on as he arrived at the scene.

The man begged as he tried to comfort the woman holding on to his shoulder, who had a dry red leaking out of her mouth. He himself was on one knee, panting from exhaustion. Now that the blue-haired boy got a closer look at them, there was a sharp wound on his ripped shirt in the pattern of a claw. Survivors of a Monokuma attack, huh?

Eyes narrowing in both disgust and suspicion, Nagisa walked closer to them, aiming his weapon at the two adults, then speaking in a cold and sadistic voice.

"You two. Don't even think of escaping. This is the end of the road for you."

"Huh?! Who's there?"

The man finally broke his attention that he tried to focus completely on the expiring woman on him, before he looked at the boy that was standing in front of him. His expression was that of anger, fear, and hatred... this was...!

"You...! You're one of those kids that's been taking over this city and causing chaos everywhere, aren't you?! Why?! Do you even see what you're doing right now?! How could you do such horrible things...? My wife is on her last legs because of you!"

"Because of me? That's comedic. You adults only have yourselves to blame. Treating children horribly, using them for your own vices, taking out your frustrations on their innocent souls... you're only now being made to be paid back for everything you've done to us."

"To you?! What have we done to you?! We were just living our lives freely, until you cane along! Why did you have to hurt people like us?"

"You don't get it, do you? Adults... demons like you are the reason this city is unsafe. You're the reason children are afraid to live with people who were meant to protect them.

"Meant to... huh?! Why you...! Listen, just listen to me, kid. Your parents... you have parents too, right? Where are your parents right now?"

... That made Nagisa lower his gun just a little. His tone grew in disdain, practically spitting out his next words.

"They're not here."

"Well, if they were... they'd be ashamed to see their kid turn into such a horrible monster!"

Nagisa's brain pulsed.

"... Excuse me?"

Unconsciously, he took a step closer to the two adults.

"Just look at you... look at what you've turned into! You had such a bright future ahead of you! You could've done so much in your life! But you've thrown it away, and for what? To hurt people? And for why?"

The grip on his gun got stronger. Another step. Closer, and closer.

"Stop... talking. You don't know anything...!"

And yet, the man didn't shut himself up. And what was next, was enough to push Nagisa to the point he'd have no remorse for what was coming next.

"To think they expected so much from you, and yet-"

"I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!"

Yelling as he fired a lethal syringe into the man's heart, the adult screamed in an indescribable and seething pain. A dark red liquid started to flow out from where he had been hit.

Still not content with a shot that's already signed a death sentence for the two adults (the woman already seems to have gone down, her eyes were shut and her limbs had grown limp), Nagisa closed the distance between them and was about to personally beat up and cover his hands with their blood despite his usual opposition to getting so up close with his victims.

As he was going to do that though, whether it was out of survival instincts or adrenaline, the larger man caught him with a fist to his gut, and the young boy's frail and pale body recoiled in pain, collapsing to the ground as he tried to catch his breath.

"Haahh... Damn it, I need to get out of here... I need to get back to her...!"

Using the last of his strength, the adult man carried his wife's body on his back as he continued to bleed out as he dashed from the alleyway.

Nagisa caught a glimpse of them trying to escape, as he forced himself to get up despite the pain in his body from the earlier punch that got thrown at him. He was going to massacre them now, he thought. His bloodthirst and abhorrence towards adults had hit a high, and he was hellbent on making sure he personally made these demons felt hell.

Chasing after them, he slowly but surely caught up to them, witnessing them go into a house as he followed them.

The adult man desperately tried to lock the younger boy away, but all that accomplished was that he got pushed down with his lifeless wife with him along with the door after it got kicked by Nagisa, who now had his needle gun pointed right at the man's face.

"To think you'd be stupid enough to retreat to your own house... I suppose when a person is on their last legs, they won't think too rationally. This is the end for you, either way... that needle in your heart is much more than enough to get rid of you."

Grabbing the dying man by his collar, Nagisa put the gun right against the man's forehead, a callous grin on the child while a look of terror and acceptance was painted on the adult's expression.

"Any last words, then? Maybe you'd like to take back what you said earlier about my parents."

"I... you..."

Coughing out blood as he was slowly starting to pass away, Nagisa tilted his head, and put his finger on the trigger.

"Hmph. Well, I still have someone to come back to. Say hi to all the demons on the other side for me."

Just as he was about to finish the job, the sound of footsteps coming from upstairs shook him out of it, and both men turned their attention to a small, elementary school aged girl walking down the stairs, looking down in horror at the scene before her.

Nagisa's eyes widened in surprise, as the expression on her face told him the entire story. His face quickly turned pale as he saw the emotion that she showed, and it quickly translated into an ache in his heart growing at an infinite pace.

"... Dad?"

"... !"

Reaching out his arm, the father tried to move his body towards his daughter that was standing at the top of the stairs. But to no avail.

His world would fade, and in an instant, his body went numb and entered death's door, right next to his wife.

"Dad... Dad! Mom, too...! DAD!"

Rushing down the stairs and walking over to her departed parents' side, she tried everything - shaking them awake, pulling the needle away from the father's heart, trying to kiss the mother's head back to life. Just to try and make them come back.

Nagisa's eyebrows shifted in worry and a massive weight crushing his shoulders. Did he just kill this kid's parents...? One that clearly, very evidently, loved them, and parents that reciprocated that feeling?

Why did he feel... envious? Why did he feel... so regretful?

Yelling out in tears as she cried out for her family, Nagisa hesitantly took a step closer, reaching out his hand...

But took it back once he realized that she didn't want anything to do with him. When she finally realized his presence once again, all she gave him was a look of disgust and panic. Trying to get his words out, he spoke, his voice full of uncertainty.

"I-I... didn't know... they..."

"Get away from me... get away from us! Why did you take my parents away from me?!"

He had to answer her. Even with how much she would hate him for this, he had to.

"They were... demons."

"Demons?! DEMONS?! Mom and Dad... loved me! They did everything for me! Don't you dare, ever, ever call them demons! After what you did, you're the only demon here...! You're the demon! It's your fault! IT'S YOUR FAULT! GIVE ME MY FAMILY BACK!"

Too stunned and too full of culpability to answer back, his eyes closed. His world was spinning around him and his emotions and thoughts were an incoherent mess. He was blocking out the yelling and crying the now orphaned daughter directed at him, but as he tried to open his eyes and get the words out to apologize...

All that he saw was the smaller girl passed out in front of him, lying next to what remained of her family, embracing them tightly.

Nagisa didn't say another thing. His hands felt petrified, and he wanted to just... leave her alone. Maybe it'd make his conscience feel better.

But he had a job to do. No matter the pain, he'll grit his teeth and push through it. For her, he'd do anything. Just to make her acknowledge him... and tell him he did a good job.

That much... made every single painful act he had to do worth it. Because to him, she cared for him more than anyone... and that alone was enough.

Pulling out the Monokuma Kid's helmet from his backpack, he slowly moved towards the younger girl's body and positioned the gear above her head, then speaking to her, knowing full well she can't talk back.

"I'm... sorry about your parents. I wish... mine cared about me even half as much as yours did. I know it hurts to have to remember them, so consider this... an act of mercy. So long as this is on your head, you'll never have to feel that pain ever again."

A sigh.

Twisting and attaching it... he finally put the helmet on the girl.

That was the end of the mission.

So much happened... and he'd been reminded why he hated having to do things like this himself. He couldn't just shut himself off from emotion. He had to convince himself he was doing the right thing, because if he couldn't even do that? He'd be forced to see the reality of his actions. But that's the way it is. It has to be like this. He'll always tell himself that.

Every single time, he's reminded of things he never had. But when someone offers to give you the love and attention you've craved so much for in your life...

He was willing to destroy the love other people had just to get a taste of what that was like.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Soldier Boy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader spends the day with Dean getting to know him some more when she catches him in a lie and discovers one of his most dark secrets...

Masterlist

Pairing: Superhero!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

____

“So how old are you, Solider Boy?” you asked the next day as you walked around the park. 

“Thirty,” he said with a smirk.

“Solider Boy’s been around since the second world war. So. How old are you really?” you asked.

“I was eighteen when I was injected. I’ve aged very slowly. I do age, but it’s slow. They...I shouldn’t talk about this stuff,” he said, kicking at the ground with his boot. “Ah, fuck it, it’s in the news anyways.”

“The compound V?” you asked and he nodded.

“First successful try right here. I was still going through puberty so it took,” he said. “I guess. The science is very complicated they said. They just said you want to serve your country and I signed up.”

“What year were you born?”

“January 24th, 1926,” he said. You paused and he chuckled. “I know some women aren’t into older men.”

“I must seem like a child to you,” you said, walking again and crossing your arms.

“You’re twenty nine. I’m thirty. What’s such a big deal about that?” he smiled.

“You’re sweet,” you said. You dropped your hands by your sides, Dean taking one of them in his. “Old man ain’t wasting his time.”

“Keep it up, kiddo,” he laughed. You laced your fingers together with his hand and smiled as you looked at him. A flannel and t shirt. Jeans and boots. A baseball cap on his head. He looked so ordinary and yet he was the first superhero in existence. “I’m sure you’re wondering if I ever had a family.”

“A bit. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you said. 

“No, I want to. I don’t talk to anyone anymore. Aside from the people at Vought to try and get in The Seven but that’s like beating a dead horse at this point,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently I’m too similar in the market sector as Homelander. Go ‘merica and color scheme and that shit. I didn’t ask to be the leader or anything. I just...want to get off the kiddie squad, go do real shit out there, help people, not the stupid stuff I do now.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t fit on The Seven. You want to help people, you don’t care about the photo op,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep trying,” he said. “But to answer your other question you didn’t ask, no, I never had a family. I had parents and a brother but they’ve all passed away. All my friends are gone. It never seemed right to love a girl and have a family and watch them all grow old and...honestly I didn’t want to watch my children grow older than me and die. I can’t imagine anything worse than outliving them.”

“You’re a good man, Dean.”

“I had the occasional acquaintance, don’t get me wrong. But it was always casual, no titles, nothing formal.”

“Is this casual?” you asked. He shook his head and you bumped his shoulder. “What’s different this time?”

“A chemical made me this way. Maybe a chemical can unmake me this way. We are so advanced now compared to back then. Maybe I can age normally with some other combination. Maybe I’m stuck like this forever. I just know that the numb pit inside of me woke the fuck up when I met you and it has been quiet for a very, very long time.”

“My mom’s quiet a bit older than my dad. Age gaps don’t scare me,” you said. He chuckled and you held onto his arm. “You don’t sparkle like the twilight guy though right?”

“Oh my God, no,” he laughed. “No sparkles here. I do make sparks when bullets bounce off of me though.”

“Well now you’re just bragging,” you said. You rested your head on his arm, thinking back to a movie you used to watch as a kid, Solider Boy the lead in the thing. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you just lie about not having a family?” you asked, pulling away from him. You knew you could have let it go, should have let it go for the sake of the mission but damn you were pissed off at him for lying to you. You crossed your arms and he frowned, going over to a nearby bench. You sat down next to him, Solider Boy rubbing his hands together. “You were in this movie my brother loved so I watched it all the time. He was a huge fan and he would never shut up about you. I never paid much attention but I remember. You had a wife and kids once.”

“You’re gonna leave after I tell you this part,” he said, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m gonna leave if you don’t tell me the truth right now. You will never see my face again. You promised you would not lie to me. Out with it Dean.”

“I wasn’t always a good person. It’s very...difficult to stay good when there’s so much bad around you. When there’s no consequences.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“My son and daughter died hating me, thinking I was a monster. They died because of me. That was the breaking point for me. I walked away after that, I started over. I’d turned into this thing I didn’t recognize. I became Soldier Boy. Dean Winchester...he died back in that war. Not until the nineties did I realize what had happened to me. So I left. Went away from the world. Brought Dean back to life and Soldier Boy came back but different. Good this time. Greed, corruption. It’s not happening this time. Then you said...you made that comment about me being naive, that I’d turn eventually into an asshole supe like the rest of them. I’m terrified of that happening to me again. Maybe that’s why I like you, cause you’ll remind me not to be a monster again.”

“Why do you call yourself a monster?” you asked quietly.

“The first time I killed someone, I was mortified. The last time I did it, I laughed. It made me happy. I hurt him before I did it even. I stopped caring about people. My wife wanted a divorce. I thought she was hot, she fit my image. I told her I didn’t want one so she took some pills and told me she’d rather die than live with the devil. My kids were young adults, late twenties. I snapped at them when they blamed me for their mother’s death. My son hit me so I pushed him and he hit his head. My daughter ran out, afraid of me and was hit by a car. They died because I didn’t want to lose my image. I wasn’t even that upset at first. I thought a widow superhero, that’ll boost my numbers.”

“If that didn’t…” you said, Dean running his hands over his thighs. “What made you change?”

“I found a drawing my daughter had made me when she was small,” he said. He took out his wallet and unfolded a laminated sheet of paper holding it out to you. It was done in crayon, a few stick figures with one of them wearing a superhero outfit and the word “daddy” written above it. “She loved me once. I ripped it away from her. I found that cleaning out the house and I realized what I’d done. I’m worse than any bad guy there ever was for doing that to them. I stopped caring. When you stop caring is when you lose those bits of your soul. They break off until there’s nothing left. I am a monster, Y/N. Nothing I ever do can make up for it and save whatever shattered pieces are in there. But I owe it to my kids to be good and stay good.”

You handed the sheet back and he tucked it away, his wallet going in his pocket as he stared out at the trees across the path. 

“I understand if you would no longer like to see or speak to me again. Or if you want to slap me in the face. That’s also acceptable,” he said.

“What year was all of this?” you asked.

“They died in ‘92. Then I ran away to Kansas, worked as a farmhand for a while,” he said. He rubbed his palm and stared down at his lap. “Just...be careful at night and try to stop walking down alleys for me, okay?”

“Why are you saying that?”

“I’m never going to see you again after you get up from this bench.”

You stood up and he let out a sigh. You took a step to your left and sat down closer to him, turning your head as Dean looked so horribly confused at you. You couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t an option. But while you knew you couldn’t walk because of the mission Butcher had you on, you didn’t want to. There was so much self-hate inside of Dean he hid well and part of you ached that he considered himself sub-human.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Dean. What happened to your family was horrible but they were accidents. Your daughter, your son. Your wife, did she even let it sink in for you before she did that? If I was married to someone and they suddenly asked for a divorce my gut reaction would probably be no too. I’m not saying you didn’t play a part but those were her actions that trickled down and affected the rest of you. Letting yourself become corrupted means you’re human. We all make fucking mistakes. Yours are a little big, I admit that. But you try to make up for it. All you can do after the fact is try and you’re doing that. There’s a soul in there Dean. If there wasn’t this wouldn’t be eating you alive. Cut yourself a break. I gotta process everything you said but I’m not walking away. Promise you will never lie to me again and I can promise you that I won’t judge you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“I’ve been around 95 years and I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “That’s a good thing. I will never lie to you again. I swear. I’m sorry. I was...frightened of telling you who I was deep down. I like you. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s the first bit of happiness I’ve felt in a long time and I don’t want it to go away just yet.”

“It’s okay that you were scared. Maybe on our third date we can have a less intense conversation. We can talk about how you’re older than sliced bread,” you teased. 

“You youngin’s don’t know how good you got it,” he chuckled. You took his hand into your lap and he smiled. “Not a monster to you?”

“No. Just be a good guy and I’ll be happy,” you said. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, Dean looking you up and down.

“I wish I knew you when I was a dumb kid that let them shove that stuff in me. I never would have said yes if I had a girl back home.”

“Well, from now on, maybe just ask if you think I’d be proud of what you were doing. If the anwer’s no, maybe don’t do it,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep that one,” he said. “Also did you subtly drop that I’m getting another date despite all of that?”

“You told me the truth, even though it was hard. That’s why I like you too,” you said. “Plus you’re really old so you must have like, sex down to perfection by this point.”

“Gonna blow your fucking mind,” he teased. “Eventually. I know things are different nowadays but…you’re special. You’re not a hookup.”

“When you’re ready, you let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a hug, Dean hesitant at first but he quickly relaxed into it. “You alright?”

“Been a long time since I had a hug is all.”

“You need one, just come to me,” you said. You sat back and he smiled. “So. Let’s go do something fun. You look like you could use it.”

“Night,” murmured Dean as he kissed you at your doorstep that evening.

“Night,” you said, not moving away from him just yet. His ears perked up and he forced himself away. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Nothing major. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Bye Dean,” you said, watching him take off running far faster than any human man could. You smiled as you locked up, a loud thud coming from your kitchen. You unlocked the door and looked around. “Hello?”

“For such a nice house you have an incredibly small kitchen,” said Butcher as he walked out with the bottle of your nicest bourbon.

“Oh come on, that was a housewarming present,” you said.

“I swipe you some more,” he said, taking a long swig. “How’s it going?”

“Good. We got close today but Butcher you seriously can not come back here again. Dean was this close to coming inside tonight.”

“Dean. I thought he was Solider Boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You want to wind up like his last broad did? You give him the puppy dog eyes and then we make a move,” he said.

“I’m starting to think we might get further with sugar over spice. Billy he wants to make up for his past. If he gets into The Seven he could be a serious asset.”

“Are you going soft on me?” he asked, an edge in his voice. 

“Let me work him the way I know best. Trust me,” you said.

“Don’t forget what this is for. You call when you’re ready,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

He left out the back and you sighed, running your hands over your face. Sure, Dean had done some bad things in the past but who hadn’t? He wasn’t playing you, he had no reason to. The part of you that wanted revenge was still there but he didn’t cause your brother to die, not really. He was simply a prime target at the moment.

You swallowed and went to the kitchen, taking the bottle of alcohol to the family room. You sat on the couch and took a swig, letting it burn your throat.

You didn’t want him to get hurt. You liked him. A lot. Maybe you could convince him to go away, be someplace safer. Your head turned when you got a text, the alert saying it was from Dean and him asking you if you wanted to get out of the city and go hiking tomorrow.

Maybe that’d be a good time to tell him the truth. He was bound to find out eventually and if he got mad, at least you’d be the only one in danger. Billy’s voice was at the back of your head but you ignored it. He’d been angry for too long, couldn’t see the good in people anymore. Dean wasn’t what you thought he was at first. He was good deep down.

You’d tell Solider Boy the truth tomorrow and hoped you lived to see the next day.

______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[princesssarisa]

A defense of the ending of “Wuthering Heights"

@astrangechoiceoffavourites, @theheightsthatwuthered, @wuthering-valleys, @heightsandmoors, @incorrectwutheringheightsquotes

 I’ve been reading other people’s opinions on Wuthering Heights this past year, I’ve noticed a small recurring theme.

It’s the idea that the ending feels out of place; tacked on; anti-climactic; too tame compared to the rest of the book. That it feels wrong for Heathcliff to simply lose interest in his revenge and then lose the will to live, or for the surviving characters to have any kind of happy or hopeful ending after so much brutality.

One book I read excerpts from on Google Books (I don’t remember the title or the author) suggested that maybe Emily Brontë originally wrote a very different, more brutal and Gothic ending, now lost. The author proposed that the final ending was probably the result of Anne and/or Charlotte urging Emily to tone down the book’s “immorality.” Of course this is pure conjecture. This same author also speculated that in the novel’s first draft, Heathcliff was explicitly Mr. Earnshaw’s illegitimate son, but that Anne and/or Charlotte persuaded Emily to change it. I’m not at all convinced by that theory, since @astrangechoiceoffavourites has argued very eloquently that to make Heathcliff and Cathy’s love forbidden because of the incest taboo rather than because of social class and race would go against the plot’s main themes and make nonsense of Heathcliff’s revenge on the Lintons and Earnshaws.

Still, this theorist isn’t the only person to think the ending (and possibly the whole second generation storyline) feels like the work of a different author than the rest of the book. Just recently I read a comment on Facebook arguing that a more cohesive, consistent Wuthering Heights would have had “a much darker and more explosive ending.” I assume a similar mindset is why some theorize that Branwell wrote the novel’s first half and Emily wrote the second. (I think I hate that theory even more than I hate the theory that Branwell wrote it all – “He didn’t write the whole book, but he did write the part everyone likes best.”) And if we compare the various adaptations’ endings to the ending of the book, there’s definitely a trend of giving Heathcliff a more brutal death.

I understand all of this. The ending of the book is ironic. Heathcliff himself knows it’s ironic: “It is a poor conclusion, is it not?” he asks Nelly, “an absurd termination to my violent exertions?” We don’t expect a towering, terrifying yet fascinating Byronic anti-hero like Heathcliff to become apathetic and ineffectual in the end and then die quietly (albeit mysteriously and eerily) in bed. We’d sooner expect him to freeze to death chasing Cathy’s ghost through a blizzard, or to be shot by his worst enemy, or to be lured by Cathy’s ghost to commit suicide by gunshot.

But I know I’m not the only person who thinks the entire book is fully cohesive and who sees nothing wrong with the ending whatsoever.

As far as I’m concerned, Heathcliff’s “absurd” end is more interesting than anything “darker and more explosive” would have been, precisely because it’s unexpected and yet makes perfect sense. Revenge never makes Heathcliff truly happy or brings him peace of mind: we know that all along. It might distract him from his pain, but it can’t cure it. While initially surprising, in hindsight it’s not surprising at all that, with no out-of-character repentance or remorse, he eventually loses the will to seek any more revenge. At heart it was never what he really wanted most; his real greatest desire is and always has been to be with Cathy.

Then there’s the strongest factor in his loss of his will for revenge: his grudging empathy for Hareton. Again, as far as I’m concerned, this is fascinating irony. Heathcliff has purposefully set out to shape Hareton into a copy of himself. Ultimately, that scheme “goes horribly right,” because he sees too much of his younger self in Hareton to hate him as much as he wants to, or to have the will to separate him from Cathy II the way he himself was separated from Cathy I. Then there’s Hareton’s resemblance to his aunt, Cathy I; even though Heathcliff’s passion for Cathy has been the motive for all his revenge on the two families that separated them, in the end it’s what makes him unable to ruin the lives of her lookalike nephew and her daughter, even though they’re also the children of the two men most responsible for taking Cathy from him. Again, it works because it’s handled delicately and without sentimentality. He still shows no remorse or regret for his past actions, and never shows any real kindness or fondness to Hareton or Cathy II, but despises the conflicted feelings they stir in him. But the fact remains that, despite all his efforts to be a monster over the years, he’s still a human being, capable of some empathy for people in whom he sees aspects of himself and of his beloved Cathy. I think it’s fascinating that this humanity, and not his monstrous actions, is what undoes him in the end.

Also, as some critics have pointed out, the very fact that Heathcliff receives no punishment for his sins (apart from his inner torment) makes the ending subversive by Victorian standards. If he had died a brutal death, it could easily have been viewed as his comeuppance, demonstrating God’s justice. From a moral and religious perspective, it might be all the more disturbing that instead he gets to die as close to a peaceful death as his character allows, with a devilish smile on his face.

Moving beyond Heathcliff’s death, I don’t see anything wrong with Hareton and Cathy II′s ending either.

First of all, it isn’t necessarily a straightforward happy ending. It’s definitely bittersweet if we have any sympathy for Heathcliff, and not just because he dies. This penniless, abused, disdained orphan of color defied the classism and racism of his society by clawing his way to wealth and status and by bringing down the two families who once oppressed him, but in the end, it’s all for nothing. Wuthering Heights and Thrushcross Grange go back to the Earnshaw and Linton heirs and the only trace left of Heathcliff is a single name and death date on a tombstone. He’s just as much of a “nobody” in death as he was as a homeless child. Of course it’s tempting to cheer for this fact because of his cruelty and because Cathy II and Hareton are sympathetic, basically innocent young people whom he unfairly punished for their parents’ sins. But in a way at least, especially in Marxist readings of the book (which I don’t fully agree with but do see validity in), the ending can be viewed as the triumph of the classist and racist status quo.

Nor, as some critics have argued, is it guaranteed that Cathy II and Hareton will live happily ever after. First of all, the fact remains that Hareton loved and loyally served Heathcliff to the end, and to please Hareton, Cathy had to stop speaking out against Heathcliff even though he had horribly abused her. There’s also the fact that Hareton once hit Cathy himself; only once, and before they were even friends, let alone lovers, but in the real world it rarely bodes well for a woman to marry a man who once slapped her. A few critics have wondered if Hareton is really permanently “tamed” in the end, or will eventually revert to the roughness Heathcliff bred in him and abuse his new power and status the same way Heathcliff did. On the flip side, there’s the fact that apart from her conceding not to criticize Heathcliff, Cathy seems to rule over Hareton almost as much as her mother did over Heathcliff when they were children. She educates him, he craves her esteem and does her bidding, and in his lessons she meets his mistakes and inattention (however playfully) with “smart slaps” and threats of hair-pulling. Some critics have wondered if we should view these as red flags; if Cathy II is destined to be an emotional abuser like her mother was.

But even if you don’t subscribe to those darker interpretations of the ending... even if you view Cathy and Hareton as fundamentally good people who genuinely grow and change for the better, find a healthy balance between the worlds of Thrushcross Grange and Wuthering Heights, and will be truly happy together... well, what’s wrong with that?

Is it really so impossible to believe that sometimes the cycle of abuse can be broken, or so “out of place” to show it being broken at the end of a book that shows its horrors? Is it just naïve delusion to hope that, with effort, children can avoid repeating their parents’ mistakes and opposing social structures like the Heights and the Grange can be reconciled? That at least one young couple might manage to combine the good aspects of both worlds while discarding the bad, rather than combining the worst of both worlds the way Heathcliff did? Just because the book is dark as a whole, do we really need to be so cynical when reading it that we can’t allow it to end on a note of hope?

Besides, I’ve written before about the mirror-image character arcs of the two Cathys. Cathy I is born and raised at Wuthering Heights, but eventually leaves it for Thrushcross Grange when she marries the latter household’s heir; she initially loves the rugged dark-haired Heathcliff and wanders the moors with him, but then gains snobbery, treats Heathcliff with increasing disdain, and shifts her attentions to the prissy blond-haired Edgar, whom she marries; as a result, her life ends in misery. Cathy II is born and raised at Thushcross Grange, but eventually she leaves it for Wuthering Heights when she marries the latter household’s heir; she initially loves the prissy blond-haired Linton, whom she marries, and treats the rugged dark-haired Hareton with disdain, but eventually she loses her snobbery, learns to love Hareton, and wanders the moors with him. In no way is Cathy II’s positive ending “tacked on” – her entire character arc is structured to be the opposite of her mother’s tragedy.

I understand why some people don’t care for the ending and think it feels anti-climactic or out of place. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s a thoroughly effective ending and fully consistent with what came before.

[deafwestnewsies]

be my first last kiss

You can plan on a change in the weather or time, but you'd never planned on him changing his mind.

jack kelly x davey jacobs

read it on my ao3!

Earnest to goodness, Jack Kelly was going to murder Racetrack Higgins.

No, Anthony Higgins, this was the sort of thing that makes you pull out the tarnished christian name of a friend (or so you thought) you’ve known since he was toppling over on baby-fattened legs. Anthony Higgins would die by the sword of Jack Kelly.

He just had to get this godforsaken Youtube video filmed first.

You’re doing this for the cash, Jack grumbled to himself as he passed through the metal doors of a nondescript building on the Lower East Side- it was the kind of place being slowly taken over by hip and fun corporations promising Asian-fusion bars and eco-friendly thrift stores while edging out the relic businesses built on the backs of immigrant dreams. Jack couldn’t stand areas like this, the air thick with wasted luxury, so he rarely left the barrio. Why would he? Spot Conlon slept in the bedroom next to his. Katherine Plumber and Sarah Jacobs ran the bookstore that bought his baked goods and sold them for decent money. Medda lived down the street with her plethora of children, and Racetrack still beat the known path, doing tricks on the street corner for spare change and internet views. Davey- David. David Jacobs wasn’t there. It was right where Jack wanted to be.

Much unlike the dim studio where he now shuffled his feet, waiting for the perky young PA with bright red streaks in her hair to come back with further information about the video he would be shooting. Jack wasn’t a stranger to this small production company; He participated in a few Youtube videos back before they had millions of subscribers, he played truth or dare with lots of liquor and a complete stranger, he confessed about the first time he fell in love so it could be put to pathetic music.

Cash where you could get it, right?

“Kelly, right?” Cherry Streaks was back with a vengeance.

“Jack, actually,” he corrected.

“So you’re going to stand over there where the little blue X marks the spot and wait until the producer, Adam, starts asking you a few questions. The first one might be a test for our boom guy. Answer honestly, we can pretty much tell when you’re making up a story by this point. After that, the main part of the video will begin. Got it?” She was pointing wildly with a Number 2 pencil that had previously been stuck through her ponytail, and she smelled faintly of jasmine. Jack felt dizzy.

“Wait, I thought this was one of those ‘Choose who’s the best kisser out of ten strangers’ type of deal?” I mean, that’s what Race told me- oh God. Oh Santa Maria. Oh Saint Francis.

The young woman smiled like she was keeping an excellent secret. “Have fun, Jack Kelly.”

Walking off at her ominous dismissal, Jack stood where he was directed. The fluorescent lighting made him sweat under the knowledge that he had virtually no idea what he was doing there, Race had lied to him so that he would participate in some sort of sick, horrible scheme, and for all he knew, behind door number three could be his third grade teacher with a baseball bat and a basic multiplication grudge.

“Jack! It’s nice to see you again.”

Romeo was walking towards him with that easy gait Jack had memorized so long ago- Romeo had shot the original videos on an Amazon tripod and the unfounded hope of human connection, and now he owned the entire shebang. Jack dropped his tense shoulders to give him a warm smile. “Romeo. Boy, am I glad to see a friendly face.” Jack lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “You’ve got a production assistant who actually does work, so I’m assuming we’ve died and you earned a really nice deal in Heaven?”

Romeo barked out a laugh. “If I’ve died, do not resuscitate. I’ll never be able to look at another bodega meatball sub after cooking food bought in a real grocery store.”

“Rub it in, why don’tcha?” Jack punched the shorter man on the shoulder. “Listen, Romeo, you gotta tell me what I’m in for, a buddy totally sold me out for the cash and I have no clue what this project is gonna be like.”

Before Romeo could respond, a tall, lofty man behind the camera cleared his throat. “Darling? We’re ready to begin when you are.”

“Jack, meet Specs. Or Adam, but we all know how well nicknames stick. Specs, this is the old friend I was telling you about.” Romeo ended right above Specs’ elbow, and it was all Jack could do not to laugh.

The man fixed his thoughtful gaze on him. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. You’ve got a real presence on the camera. Have you ever considered acting?”

“I’m afraid I’m, uh,” Jack flexed a paint-stained hand. “Strictly canvas, as they say.”

Nodding as if that was a phrase people commonly used and not something Jack invented on the fly, Specs then clapped his hands together. “Folks, let’s film this sonofabitch.”

---

“I’m Jack, and I’m a twenty-four year old artist living in New York City.”

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” Specs questioned from behind the camera.

Jack blinked in surprise. “Sure. One throughout high school, another in college and a little bit beyond. I wouldn’t call myself a heartbreaker or anything.”

“Do you stay friends with your exes?”

“One of ‘em, yea. It was more of an amicable thing, you know. She ended up being a lesbian. And I am… not.” His clumsy fingers tugged at a constricting collar.

“And the other?”

“Just because I’m not a heartbreaker doesn’t mean I can’t be a real asshole sometimes,” Jack nervously chuckled. (Davey had laid out rose petals, for God’s sake. Rose petals.)

“Was this girl the high school girlfriend, or the college one?”

“Boy,” Jack quickly corrected. “Man. I guess. He was in college- four and a half years.” (It took him four days to clear away the rotting flowers, the bleeding color slowly seeping into his carpet. Katherine found him delirious with whiskey on the bathroom floor; Sarah couldn’t bear to walk through his front door.)

“How’d you meet him?”

(He twisted in his high-backed blue chair. “It’s habláis in el presente.”) “Freshman year of high school actually. Spanish class. Funny story, actually, that other girl I dated? His sister. Broke her heart for his. He was so mad at me that we didn’t talk for like, months after.”

“It was six and a half months, actually.”

Of things Jack was expecting to see today, Spiderman was more likely than David. A flash mob singing death metal, maybe. Pigs flying through the polluted air.

“I was told to come in. I now see why.” David’s eyes narrowed behind his thin wire frames, different from the heavy Ray-Bans that he had dedicated himself to sophomore year of high school. Jack hated that he looked older, wiser, and all around… better.

Specs cleared his throat before the bewildered set of men (one more angry than the other, both desperately avoiding eye contact) could demand what sort of sick joke this was. “Can you introduce yourself?”

They broke up on a Tuesday, an insignificant, momentary Tuesday. Fourteen months ago. (Yes, fourteen months, like their terrible split was a baby that Jack was nurturing bit by bit. He refused to round down- fourteen months ago, he left David Jacobs.) So when David ran his thumb across his jawline, a nervous tick older than his younger brother, Jack couldn’t fathom why he felt so relieved. Some things never did change. “David. Jacobs.” David’s jaw flexed as he looked into the camera. “I dated Jack for almost five years.”

“Tell us about your other relationships.”

“Unfortunately, I spent the better part of high school and college pining after a total cocksock. Not a whole lot of time for casual dating in between.”

A deep silence permeated the studio as two boom mic operators swapped awkward glances. Jack didn’t attempt to defend himself- he was sort of a cocksock. David Jacobs had asked him to uproot what little life he had in New York and move to Santa Fe for a prestigious, so-accolated-you-could-cry medical school, and Jack Kelly broke up with him over containers of kung pao chicken and scattered rose petals. He was a cocksock, a dickhead, and complete asshole. An ex-boyfriend of mass proportions.

“Okay, so.” Specs was wiping at his glasses with the tail of his shirt. Jack wanted to snap them in half. “Today’s video is entitled ‘Exes kiss for the first time since their breakup’. If you need more explanation…”

“I think we’ve got it.” David snapped, clenching his fists rapidly.

Jack stepped half an inch closer to David and began murmuring under his breath. “Davey, if you don’t want-”

“Don’t call me Davey.” His eyes were alight with flame- Jack’s chest caught fire.

Of all the things that felt domestic when dating Davey Jacobs, kissing him never managed to become routine. Davey kissed like he earnestly meant it. The gears in his brilliant mind would grind to a halt so he could dedicate himself to the lilting curve of Jack’s mouth, a gentle sweep of warmth when the artist’s mouth was otherwise preoccupied with his needless words, and the world would spin on a delicate axis. (Jack’s shoulders rose to meet Davey, the physical ache of being someone’s other half drawing him forward. Davey had avoided him for so long, Jack living on a diet of lingering stares and a brief touch of the hand, that kissing him felt like a dying man knelt at a replenished well. How did they exist for so long without this innate knowledge of the universe? Could he stand to go on a single second longer without the praise of Davey Jacob’s lips?) Of all the things Jack missed about spending his life with Davey Jacobs, kissing him was certainly one of them.

There was a moment where the pads of Jack’s fingertips brushed the nape of David’s neck, a habit borne from the small noise it would draw from the back of his throat, and the steely corporate floor felt more like the worn carpet in the old thirty-second street apartment. Jack could feel his thready pulse with the gentle press of a thumb.

Davey was a fan of the dramatics- he would pull away from a passionate kiss in the middle of a busy New York street to stare into Jack’s eyes, foreheads gently touching and cheeks furiously blushing. Now, he simply drew back. Took a step away. Swiped at his lips with the back of his hand.

Jack felt like he was falling. (“If you ever break up with me,” Jack began. He laughed at Davey’s unexpected shudder, the honest and visceral kind. “Make it quick.”

“What about when you break up with me?” Davey peered over his glasses.

Crinkling his nose, Jack quickly answered before the other boy could detail any breakup preferences. “I’m not an idiot, Dave. ‘M not going anywhere.”)

---

He stared at the limp fifty dollars in his hand. Romeo had apologized, explaining that the people who had organized this got half the cut, and handed them both an envelope- Jack, one with “Tony Higgins” that he planned to run through his shredder, and David, one with “Sarah Jacobs,” which made Jack gawk in disbelief.

Jack didn’t want to walk away; David’s feet were shuffling against the worn pavement.

“It’s funny,” David started. “I listened to a lot of Taylor Swift to get over you.”

He winced. “Sorry?”

“Please. I know she’s been your top artist since 2013.”

(Katherine walked through a worryingly unlocked apartment door. “Is that... Begin Again? Jack, what the fuck are you doing?” She had seconds to worry about the cluster of wilted flower petals her heel had put a hole through before Sarah pointed at the pair of legs sticking out of the bathroom’s entrance.) “Yeah, okay. Fair. But… funny? Did I miss a joke?”

David closed his eyes to roll them, as he so often did when he was trying to be polite, and it hurt to be on the receiving end. “We just had our last kiss. You know, like-”

“I’m Joe Jonas?” Jack interrupted, bewildered. The semi-glare he received in return was all he needed to know- “Right. Dickhead. Listen, Dave- David, why didn’t you tell me you were back in town?”

There was a brief moment where something unrecognizable flashed over David’s face- pity? Regret? Dejection? It was quickly replaced by a soft smile tugging at the edge of his lips, his eyes glazed over with a practiced professionalism. “I’ll see you around, Jack. Have a good day.”

David turned and walked down the street, and Jack just missed the passing moment he chose to look back.

---

Comment on EXES KISS FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE THEIR BREAKUP by IncredibleKinsey: those two dudes are all mad and then just make out like that????? yeah okay call me when the wedding happens

[ayankun]

WandaVision episode 6

FIRST OFF

Whenever I go back to pause things for clues, and find exactly what I’m looking for, I don’t feel justified, I feel that much more insane:

It’s really hard to make out, but I had an alright look at it on my folks’ QLED, and it’s definitely a flying saucer doing an alien abduction on what looks to be a person inside an old CRT TV (with some kind of robot head/boombox on top???)  There are secret aliens in this show, you guys, the facts don’t lie.

HmmmMMMM I wonder if Agnes is as innocent as she looks:

Also, I didn’t see that she was wearing the brooch in this ep, and I was majorly disappointed in that.

Two things here:

No, that’s not a twins joke.

Another Moonmen Confirmed

I know green is his color or whatever, but that hat is literally 10 years ahead of its time

Also, I took the playing-DDR-at-home scenario at face value, and only on the first rewatch did I realize it was a very pointed turn-of-the-century reference.  I am an Old.

There’s a good, subtle Rule of Threes in this ep.  The Setup:

The Sokovian Halloween flashback works on so many levels.  It’s so funny:

The fact that they went trick-or-treating at all

The “speaking Sokovian”

The treat being a fish

They have to share the fish

The concept that this event gave them an infectious disease

“You probably suppressed a lot of the trauma” -- it’s a good sitcom joke but.  the trauma is the joke.  The joke IS THE TRAUMA!!!

Elizabeth Olson is a dream with all her wonderful faces she has this ep.

Vision’s unsettling passive-aggression-sitcom-cooperation whiplash is WOW, consider me unsettled!!!!!!  “Be. Good.”  UGH.

(Just noticed one here, but there are a number of continuity errors in this episode, enough to be distracting later on, and is this a deliberate choice?  Please let it be deliberate.  I didn’t watch a whole lot of Malcolm in the Middle, is it known for its continuity errors?

)

“It’s their first Halloween.” LOLOLOL they are TEN YEARS OLD and this is their FIRST halloween I LOVE IT

DOUBLE RED HERRING CONFIRRRRRRRRMED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Agent Jimmy Woo accidentally identifying himself as the sassy best friend added 20 years to my life.

Found.  FOUND.  Not “created,” “manifested,” “willed into being using my insane witch powers.”  Third Party Confirmed.

I like that it’s the 90s and we can swear on TV now.  “Hell” “kick-ass” “damn it” “fu---dge”

I think the most biting part of Vision finding the whacked out folks is that the soundtrack just kind of ... ignores that anything’s wrong.  Yeah, it’s kinda-spooky Halloween music, but it’s still 100% in-world kinda-spooky-sitcom-Halloween-episode music. 

OKAY LET’S TALK ABOUT THE AD:

As a 90s child, let me tell you, this is a blisteringly accurate representation of children’s marketing from the period.  The shark is wearing sunglasses AND he has a surfboard!!!  And he’s selling you yogurt of all things!!!!!  This is the supreme distillation of what being a child in the 90s was like.

How disappointed I am that they went with crab instead of lobster.

Heard it through the grapevine that this is a representative of Wanda’s imprisonment on the Raft.  That happened in Civil War, right?  So the next ad is The Snap?  We’re running out of iconic decades, too. so, hold on, new thought.

90s: Civil War

00s: Infinity War

10s?????: Endgame???? or?????????

??: Whatever happened between Endgame and WandaVision, given that the ads are stepping forward through Wanda’s IRL life events!!

I don’t want to know how many episodes are planned/announced, but I don’t know what to expect from the format after they run out of decades from which to draw.  Maybe there are only one or possibly two “sitcom” episodes left.  Maybe after that it just breaks down and they can pick and choose from the worlds/styles we’ve already established.  That’d be p neat.  A very unique kind of chaos.

god she’s so cute

Okay, somebody explain to me Pietro.  I honestly walked away from last week thinking he was just some townsperson chump, but then I was reminded that this is the Quicksilver actor from all those X-Mans movies I never watched, soooo people are saying Multiverse Confirmed?  But, if this is X-Mans’ Pietro, then why did he die the same as MCU Pietro?  Or is he literally MCU!Pietro’s corpse, given that he looked all dead same as when she saw Vision’s corpse?  If MCU!Pietro, then why different face???

????????????????

Also I found him highly suspicious, what with all the questions he was asking.  But the only sort of person who would truly want to know the answers to those questions would be someone who already had them ... so I think he was just asking on behalf of the audience, and the delivery was all wonked out.

Rule of Threes - The Reference:

Ok, real talk, whenever computers/networks/data/encryption/servers/mainframes et al come up in mainstream media, I just look away.  I don’t need the kind of psychic damage that comes with such egregious mishandling of the topic.

That being said, does Hayward having eyes through the barrier mean that he could possibly be involved in getting it set up?  Because look.  If Hayward-after-Hayward’s-Villianous-Ends is one antagonizing force, then is there really room for the Third Party (Confirmed) antagonizing force that’s lurking in the negative space silhouette of the Inciting Incident?  With Wanda as the Red Herring antagonizing force, that’s just.  There’s just too many villains, alright?  We gotta start merging these plotlines.

(then again, when I just said “eyes” I realize probably understanding the true nature of his new secret “CATARACT” project will clear a lot of things up.  I’ll wait for enlightenment)

Agnes’ license plate in this episode is 0A1-B2C, which I think is a reference to the way reality is getting pared down to bare bones at the edge of town.  Note that this is not the same license plate number as seen last ep.

ALSO, I drove home behind a NJ plate just an hour ago, and was staring at it for a long time, trying to fit it into the puzzle before A) realizing that this was Real Life and not part of the show and B) WTF is a NJ plate doing in front of me in California.  In any case, I can confirm that NJ plates do not appear to have this number-letter repeating format.

So let’s talk Agnes.

Demonstrated knowledge of the situation in ways others haven’t (”There’s the star of the show” “kids, you can’t control ‘em”)

Shows up when needed most (explained as being Wanda’s doing, but is it)

When Wanda was having her babies, though, who was trustworthy enough to be summoned?  Was it Agnes?

Wanted to babysit REAL BAD

Was in the opening credits framed possessively with the twins

Doesn’t appear to have an IRL identity according to Jimmy’s crime board

Keeps talking about her husband but we’ve never seen him.  Highly unlikely that he’s real

Was the one to find Sparky “dead” - internet thinks she was lying to Wanda about how or possibly if he was dead (I’m trying not to read the theories, so idk exactly what the angle is there)

In an episode where everyone is wearing their original comic outfits, Agnes is dressed as (and laughs like!) a witch

She name-drops Wanda as the one controlling everyone; Norm (or the guy playing Norm) only said “she” and “her” -- meaning Agnes?

Naughty

So we’re 99% sure Agnes is Agatha Harkness, right?  I never read no comics, so I’m taking the internet’s word for it, but from what I can tell, I think we must be right.  If that’s the case, then I’m thinking it’s not impossible for her to be pulling some strings around here (giving Wanda a justification for her “that wasn’t me” doorbell ring, for example, and pulling a double red herring on the fact that she shows up whenever the narrative Wanda her nefarious scheme calls for it).

To devil’s advocate myself, though, we also have Monica’s word that it was Wanda in her mind, lessening the impact of Agnes falsely confirming what Norm only implied.  Also she’d have to be acting for Vision’s sake (and ours) and, if so, then what did Vision’s brain-touch really do, and how did she know he’d find her there, and what did she intend as the result of that interaction etc etc.

If Wanda’s (or Wanda + Third Party Confirmed (Agnes??)’s) powers aren’t enough to sustain the simulation of life on the edges of town, how much worse is it going to be now that there is even more area to try to control???

I don’t know if this is strictly an intended read, but the idea of Halloween as a fun, scares-for-entertainment’s sake type holiday, the rounding off the edges of concepts like “skeletons and ghosts are what people are after they die, let’s decorate the town with them and have a good time” kind of is a haunting parallel to the nature of Wanda (et al) covering up the horrible truth of the situation with this happy-go-lucky sitcom glamour.

How much does one hate seeing Vision giving his life for the greater good (the greater good) for the second time?  In other news, I think I’m seeing some specifically Mind Stone type energy-colors coming off of him, and very little Wanda type energy-colors.  Third Party Confirmed.

Also, I was thinking from last week that perhaps Hayward’s Villainous Ends included capturing the reanimated Vision to be one of those Sentient Weapons his organization is all about, but I Do Not Think his reaction to seeing that sought-after prize disintegrate in front of his eyes really matches up with that theory.  Again, will be patiently waiting for Jimmy to check his email to see what CATARACT is all about!

Rule of Threes - The Payoff:

Also, anyone ID the movie playing in the background?

Ok, final thought.  I watched this about four times today, and on the big-ass TV at my parents’ house finally paused and got up close to see what that white shape is in the reflection.  Thought it might be a skull, but, it’s worse.

These caps do not contain enough data to verify my claim, but I PROMISE YOU it’s a TV

A square old thing with a round screen and antenna on top. 

I SWEAR to you, when I looked into the TV, into Wanda’s eyes, only to see the reflection of a TV, of her looking at me looking at her I had a visceral fear reaction.  Like.  LEGIT nauseous skin crawl.

(All the other episodes have ended with our POV as the fourth wall, from the general (or exact!!!) position their household TV is known to be.)

This is my favorite show Of All Time.

[youngbounty]

After being on Tumblr for a while and seeing all the Manfred Von Karma hate, I've come to realize that I might've developed a soft spot for our most dispicable villain. Honestly, the guy gets FAR too much hate than he deserves. Hear me out!

One of the things we learn about Manfred Von Karma is that he has a family. He has a wife, children and grandchildren. We also know that he loves them very much, considering how much he brags about them, takes pride in everything they do and his daughter Franziksa takes pride in being the daughter of Manfred Von Karma. If you play Miles Edgeworth Investigations 2, there's a part where Manfred Von Karma brags about how good his wife's cooking is despite being an amateur. It's clear that he's a loving father and husband to his family. He even took great pride in Miles Edgeworth and his accomplishments, despite being the son of the man he killed, and made him his heir.

On the outside, it does seem strange he would love any amount of pride and care for his pupil he's going to stab in the back in Turnabout Goodbyes, but there's also plenty to consider. Manfred Von Karma's only intention was to frame Miles Edgeworth for the murder of Robert Hammond, not his father. Had he succeeded, there's a good chance Manfred Von Karma would've been permoted as Chief Prosecutor and pulled a Blackquill on Miles Edgeworth as an inmate prosecutor. So long as Miles Edgeworth still followed him like that was his Lord and Savior, he'd take it as his mentor just doing his job. Miles Edgeworth confessing to murdering his father was one thing Manfred Von Karma didn't plan and it was after he realized the note from his mentor about the murder plan that we see Manfred Von Karma inside the Record Room. We see Manfred Von Karma trying to get rid of evidence from DL-6, but we also learn from The Grand Turnabout that if there is no evidence against the Defendant, they can be declared Not Guilty. Sure, Phoenix had files of DL-6, but Manfred Von Karma doesn't know that. Sure, Manfred Von Karma hates his perfect record being destroyed, but wasn't it already destroyed anyways thanks to the Not Guilty on Robert Hammond's murder? Manfred Von Karma's not Godot, he's not going to allow a Not Guilty verdict just to indict the defendant of another crime. He's a perfectionist, if he goes down, then how can he call himself a Prosecutor? Not to say Manfred Von Karma purposely lost to Phoenix when it came to DL-6, I'd definitely disagree on that, but it's clear he was ready to burst with his guilt tumbling down on him like an avalanche. He lost his perfect record and his star pupil. You can't expect this insane guy to walk away with his head held high. The moment Miles Edgeworth realized his nightmare was real was the moment Manfred Von Karma lost everything and had no one to blame, but himself.

Manfred Von Karma's relationship with Miles Edgeworth is the one that really sticks out. This is because, strangely enough, it's a very healthy student/mentor relationship that gives us a reason for why Miles Edgeworth looked at Manfred Von Karma as some sort of god. Think of how Miles Edgeworth looks to Phoenix Wright, setting the gay jokes aside. Doesn't Miles Edgeworth also look to Phoenix Wright the same or similar way as he did with his mentor? We all know the reason why: Phoenix Wright saved Miles Edgeworth. Miles Edgeworth looked to his father to the highest degree, because he saved innocent people. So, what's the reason for him looking to Manfred Von Karma as a character who looks up to those that save innocent people and would go heaven and earth to save himself? I think that speaks for itself.

Manfred Von Karma saving people seems laughable on the surface, after seeing what he did to Gregory Edgeworth and his star pupil, but let us think of this possibility. Wasn't it also Manfred Von Karma that defended Delicia Scones from being falsely accused and framed for murder? It isn't like he had a reason to do so. I'm not saying Manfred Von Karma is Superman, but I do think that his heroic side needs to be addressed to understand why Miles Edgeworth would look up to a man like him. We need to understand why Miles Edgeworth seeing Manfred Von Karma as a murderer is what led to him writing a suicide note and being left with uncertainty of his Prosecutor’s Path. The reason is simply because Manfred Von Karma was a man that has saved innocent lives and perhaps has saved Miles Edgeworth at some point in time. 

If I had to sum up what brought such a soft spot for Manfred Von Karma for me, it’s the fact he’s an evil person with a moral compass. He believes in perfection, but also loves and cares about his family and those under his authority. He’s the kind of person that would kill someone for ruining his perfect record, but is also the kind to save the innocence without being asked. He will call anyone foolish for going against him, but will defend the honor of his lowly wife, because he loves her. Manfred Von Karma is a human being that feels emotion and holds some sort of moral compass. He’s also the only mastermind villain that only murdered out of the heat of the moment. Manfred Von Karma didn’t create the earthquake or plan on Gregory Edgeworth to be stuck in an airtight elevator, then pass out to give him a moment to murder. In fact, what Manfred Von Karma did to Gregory Edgeworth is called Voluntary Manslaughter. 

It’s only once you consider that Manfred Von Karma’s murder was Manslaughter and compare that to all the other villains that did murder through methods that were calculating and deliberate with the sole intention of taking someone’s life that you also have to consider that Manfred Von Karma isn’t a cold-blooded killer. Manfred Von Karma is no Dahlia Hawthorne, Kristoph Gavin, Damon Gant, Blaise Debeste, Patricia Roland, Shelly De Killer, Matt Engard, Dogen, Ambassador Alba, Redd White, Tigre, Acro and many others who had planed and calculated murders with the sole purpose of murder without regrets. Manfred Von Karma fits in with the other murderers that did murder, but only had out of passion at the moment it happened such as Frank Sawett, Dee Vascez, Godot, Jaques Portsman, Melee, Gustavia, Alita Tiala, and probably more, some of whom have been proven to only be given a lifelong sentence. 

I have often had Manfred Von Karma to be given the Death Penalty, but I also consider he may’ve been given a long or life sentence. Phoenix has hinted the possibility of Manfred Von Karma having been executed, but it’s also not certain either. I don’t think we’ll ever know. What I do know is that Manfred Von Karma is in the middle on the scale of the most to least evil villain in Ace Attorney. Even his murder cannot compare to many of the most colorful villains. Manfred Von Karma murdered out of circumstances. He never planned it or even knew the outcome of it. Also, unlike the number of the most evil villains in Ace Attorney, Manfred Von Karma showed love and pride toward his family and students. He never once used them to commit any crimes or schemes. Yes, he stabbed Miles Edgeworth in the back, but again out of circumstances. Had Miles Edgeworth not shown up at Gourd Lake, Manfred Von Karma would’ve thrown Yanni Yogi under the bus quicker than a speeding train. Had he found not found Gregory Edgeworth inside the elevator or if little Miles had been awake, Manfred Von Karma would’ve not picked up the gun and just went off his merry way. Any other most evil villain would’ve found a Plan B. Manfred Von Karma would’ve been angry, but would’ve cooled down after a long walk and a cup of tea. There wouldn’t be so many No DL-6 stories, if this wasn’t the case. You’d have to admit that there was a greater chance Manfred Von Karma could’ve not murdered Gregory Edgeworth had he not been found in that elevator. 

I’m certain there will always be people that hate Manfred Von Karma, even after reading this. This is more of me speaking for myself. I used to hate Manfred Von Karma with a passion after the Trilogy. After playing Miles Edgeworth Investigations 2, I began defending Manfred Von Karma. I think it was mostly because it turned out that he didn’t plan or know that the Autopsy Report of IS-7 was forged. It made me wonder if, like Miles Edgeworth and Franziska Von Karma, if Manfred Von Karma never forged evidence and was just given falsified evidence for him to use from a much bigger villain. Not saying that Manfred Von Karma isn’t a horrible person, because he is, but I don’t think he ever was trying to be a horrible person. I do think he truly believed he was doing right and saving people. Think of it this way, if Manfred Von Karma truly wanted to make Gregory Edgeworth pay and suffer in the most cruel way possible, considering how he blackmailed Jeffery Master using his daughter, which one of these would Manfred Von Karma choose: kill Gregory Edgeworth or kill his son Miles Edgeworth. Which do you believe Manfred Von Karma would use against Gregory to make him pay, if he had everything planed and calculated? 

I will leave you guys with that question to think about.

[dafukdidiwatch]

Babes in Toyland (1961)

The best way to celebrate Halloween: Watch Christmas

When I found it on Disney+ I thought it was going to be a dumb film from the 80s where they set it in a 3rd rate discount nursery theme park. And the only reason I clicked on that was to see young Keanu Reeves being pretty and in a horribly bad role. But not,only was the movie I watched NOT that, but it was actually pretty good.

Overview: The Wicked Barnaby is trying to marry Mary for her money, and yet her love with Tom is the only thing standing in his way. Can the two lovers be together without Barnibus's dastardly schemes? And to also save Christmas?

The movie actually has a very interesting history to it. It started as a Christmas show of just Mother Goose characters and nursery rhymes just interacting with each other. I think each incarnation of Babes in Toyland has a different plot and interpretation, but still with the Christmas Spirit.

The version that I stumbled upon was the 60s one, and that is a full blown musical. It has sets, stages, dances and songs, very colorful and bright. And it is very obvious that the true stars of the show is the Villain Barnaby.

I’m not lying, the movie makes that very clear. First, In the credits he got first billing, played by Ray Bolger. You might remember him more as The Scarecrow from Wizard of Oz.He was a big time actor that started in the silent era of films. Second, this movie goes out of it’s way to give all the best and funniest parts to Barnaby and his cronies. He just oozes in dramatic flair of evil that it’s hilarious. Like those classic dastardly crooks that ties people on the train tracks. He will do what his takes to get his way, while being as smug as possible.

One of my favorite lines is when Barnaby says “Let’s Pussyfoot” and they do that dramatic ‘sneak sneak’ walk. It’s so dorky and evil, I love it!

There are some weird turns that go in this movie, and possibly offensive. So The cronies do murder attempt #1 on Tom, but ended up selling him to ‘Gypsies’ because, you know, they steal kids. It leads to an actually very funny song number where Tom disguises himself as an old woman to fuck with Barnaby. But at the same time, you know, this is the rose-glasses look at stereotypes of the Romani. So that was a bit iffy here.

The other weird turn is just, fucking off to see Santa. Over halfway through the film and children get lost in the woods, kidnap them, and take them to see The Toymaker who is behind schedule. So that was a mood switch. I get that the plot of this movie is just all the weird-ass schemes that Barnaby can think of to get Mary to marry him, but the Christmas thing just sort of catches you off guard.

Overall: Yeah this was a fun movie. A lot of vaudeville slapstick and witty banter that I love from older movies. Barnaby is literally the most fun character in here, and what’s the point of a story without a good villain? It’s colorful, charming, better than the 80s. There is still the issue of the whole “Gypsy Stereotype for a Song Number” type of thing, but that only lasts for a song number luckily. If you like classic musicals like My Fair Lady and Music Man, you will probably love this.

[eclecticanalyst]

Klaus = Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town

There are three things I always watch every December: The Muppet Christmas Carol, The Year Without a Santa Claus, and Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town. I’ll usually throw in ’Twas the Night Before Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas as well, and occasionally How the Grinch Stole Christmas! (the original cartoon). I used to watch The Polar Express, but as I got older that movie started getting on my nerves (for several reasons, one of which being that the kid does a lot of unnecessary things that seem designed to cause the greatest amount of problems).

Lately, I’ve been trying to expand my Christmas movie/special repertoire. I watched The Nightmare before Christmas last week for the first time, and a few days ago I watched Netflix’s Klaus, which came out last year (2019).

I enjoyed Klaus, but as the movie progressed I found myself thinking, “This is just a more complex version of the old Rankin and Bass origin story for Santa!”

Let’s examine the evidence, shall we? The first person we meet in SCCT (hereinafter my abbreviation for Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town) is Special Delivery Kluger (S.D. for short), who is responsible for delivering mail to Santa. S.D. claims to know everything about Santa, a claim which is backed up by him proceeding to narrate the rest of the special, so he clearly is close enough to the man with the bag for him to have at some point told S.D. about how he got started in the giving-away-toys business. I’m pretty sure S.D. is called S.D. because he is responsible for all Santa letters, so he probably sees Santa on a regular basis November through December.

In Klaus, the first person we meet (after a sequence that shows us that mail is Serious Business in this world, complete with a boot camp for postmen—incidentally, the importance of the postal service is yet another, although rather minor, similarity with SCCT, because SCCT has an opening newsreel that makes a point of describing the onslaught of letters the postal facilities need to send on to the North Pole) is Jesper, postman-in-training. Obviously the story has only just started, but as the audience we’ve seen the trailers or have a general idea of the premise of this movie, so we know that eventually Jesper is going to be the postal carrier who works closest with the Santa figure. Just like S.D. Kluger. S.D. is the narrator of SCCT, and Jesper is the point of view character for Klaus, so we have in both cases the person through whose eyes we see the story being the Santa-designated postal worker.

The plot of Klaus kicks off with Jesper’s father making a last-ditch effort to get his son to apply himself by assigning him to be the postman of Smeerensburg. Smeerensburg, according to the (hilariously intense) map Jesper’s father has set up in his office, is located on a remote island in the north. When Jesper gets there, he finds out that the people there are bad-tempered and the whole area pretty much lacks all colors except gray. Just like...

Sombertown! The Place Where It All Began in SCCT. Sombertown is also in the north, is also dingy and gray, and is ruled with an iron fist by the Burgermeister Meisterburger. This is skipping ahead a bit, but we’ll find out later in the special that the Burgermeister has banned toys and everyone’s sort of given into the hive mentality of wearing gray, washing stockings, and making sure not to violate any of the Burgermeister’s decrees. The Burgermeister is, of course, The Antagonist and The Evil Authority Figure in this story.

Meanwhile, as Jesper is getting his bearings in Smeerensburg, he meets his own Antagonist(s) and Evil Authority Figure(s): the heads of the Krum and Ellingboe clans, dedicated to maintaining their ongoing feud, which involves various acts of vandalism and occasional all-out street fights. It’s because of them maintaining the status quo of hating each others’ guts that Smeerensburg is such a horrible place.

Here’s where the comparison gets a little tricky. Jesper is the new guy in the Extremely Gray Town, and we learn about the town’s devotion to being miserable through his (mis)adventures. In SCCT, S.D. isn’t actively participating in the story since he’s the narrator, so the new guy in Sombertown is Kris Kringle. (Again, I’m skipping ahead a bit here for the sake of comparison. There’s a whole Kris-growing-up sequence before he actually goes to Sombertown, and we meet the toy-making Kringle family. I will return to the Kringles later.) Basically—stay with me here—Jesper is both S.D. and Kris.

The first person who actually explains a bit of what’s going on to Jesper is Alva, who essentially has a “Love Interest” sign hanging over her head in her first scene and throughout the rest of the movie. Alva moved to Smeerensburg a while back and was all set to run the town’s school, except the adults are more concerned with getting their kids on board with feuding than making sure they know how to read and do math. Alva is, as a result, bitter, and plans to leave Smeerensburg as soon as she saves up enough money from selling fish. She explains all this to Jesper, who has just barely escaped being trampled in a street brawl between the Krums and the Ellingboes. What’s this, you say? A love interest who is a teacher and is also relatively new in town, but has been there long enough to get the hang of things? Sounds like...

Jessica, who confronts Kris when he starts handing out toys to the children upon arriving in Sombertown. Jessica is, in one of the kids’ own words, “our new schoolteacher,” and starts scolding Kris for passing out frivolous items that are against the law until he wins her over by giving her a china doll. So in both cases, the teacher/love interest doesn’t like the new guy at first, but warms up to him later. (Alva takes longer than Jessica because she is a more complex character and the running time of the film is longer.)

Jesper has no success establishing a post office or getting anyone to mail letters, but he happens to notice on the map he’s pinned up that there’s a cabin a ways off from town and figures he has nothing to lose, so he heads out there to see if he can convince whoever lives there to send a letter. As I was watching this part, I decided the cabin in the woods matched up with the Kringle family cabin, as both are located at a distance from Extremely Gray Town and it is at these locations that the toys are made. However, after thinking about it, I revised my opinion--Klaus’s cabin is actually both the Kringle family cabin and the lair of the Winter Warlock. The latter is because Klaus is, like the Winter Warlock, initially an intimidating figure, but one who softens over time. He is self-isolating but gradually joins a chosen family. Also, the Winter Warlock practices magic. Klaus does not practice magic, but there are mysterious winds only he can see that kick up and disappear without warning and seem to be giving him messages, so he’s still for all intents and purposes surrounded by magic, or at least the supernatural. The atmosphere surrounding Klaus’s cabin is the closest we get to the mystical in Klaus, and the Winter Warlock is the only one with actual magic powers in SCCT.

Therefore, just as Jesper is a combination of Kris and S.D., Klaus is a combination of Kris and the Winter Warlock. Jesper has Kris’s roles as new guy in town, male lead love interest, and deliverer of presents through unlikely means, while Klaus has Kris’s roles as toymaker, friend to animals, and general Santa Claus-ness (beard, laugh, etc).

Since both Klaus and SCCT are Santa origin stories, we get the requisite explanations for various parts of the Santa mythos in each. In Klaus, we have the establishment of the Naughty List (Jesper using the prospect of no toys to get the meaner kids in Smeerensburg to stop messing with him), the coal (Jesper getting revenge on the mean kids and the precursor to Jesper making up the Naughty List), Santa’s omniscience (Jesper lives in town and judges the kids’ behavior), stockings as present holders (Jesper, cornered in the fireplace by dogs, putting the presents in the one place he can reach), the flying reindeer (not really flying, just happened to get some air time having careened down a mountainside and shot off a ramp, also they needed reindeer because the presents were too heavy for the horse), and writing a letter to Santa in the first place (Jesper’s scheme to have 6000 letters mailed). In SCCT, Kris isn’t a fan of crying and pouting, so he makes general good behavior a prerequisite for getting toys. There isn’t really any coal involved, because Kris is a softie and at one point remarks “I guess they’re all pretty nice” when checking over his list—also the kids in Sombertown don’t really act out the same way the Smeerensburg kids do. Kris knows what the kids are up to courtesy of the Winter Warlock’s (at this point just going by “Winter”) magic snowballs. Kris has the idea of hiding presents in stockings so that the Burgermeister won’t find the toys in his daily house raids. That’s an interesting one, because in both cases the hostile environment of the Extremely Gray Town forces Kris/Jesper to come up with more creative ways to ensure that kids get their presents.  The reindeer in SCCT really do fly, after having eaten Winter’s magic feed corn. The letters are a bigger deal in Klaus, as they are an integral part of the plot, but in SCCT Jessica does bring Kris an initial batch of letters from the children of Sombertown asking for more toys after the Burgermeister destroys the first ones he handed out, and letters continue to come in later, with Jessica and the forest animals in charge of collection and delivery.

The Antagonists in both Klaus and SCCT see the influx of toys as a threat to the status quo. The clan heads in Smeerensburg realize that the kids of both clans, in their enthusiasm for playing and their desire to not be on the Naughty List, have given up the feuding lifestyle and are causing their parents to do so as well. The Burgermeister’s main motivation is that he doesn’t like being made a fool of—his toy ban is a result of stepping on a toy while going down the steps of City Hall and breaking his funny bone (a diagnosis somehow confirmed by his doctor by taking his temperature). I suppose you could also say the Burgermeister values productivity and order, which are both threatened by children playing with toys.

Remember how I said I would come back to the Kringles? Here’s an interesting part of the comparison between Klaus and SCCT. Klaus is on the whole more complex than SCCT—more complex plot, more complex characters. We see Alva’s struggle between wanting to escape Smeerensburg and loving to teach, going from being in denial to using her own savings to buy school supplies (as someone with a teacher for a parent, that moment was very real for me). We get a (very tragic) explanation of why Klaus had so many toys piled up in his workshop and why he lives alone. There’s an entire secret motivation for Jesper that culminates in (what the other characters perceive as) a betrayal.

However! In the case of the people who fill the “elves” slot in the Santa origin story, SCCT’s characters actually come out on top in terms of complexity. The Kringles take in Kris as a foundling, raise him as their own, and teach him how to make toys. They are the ones with the most (I might even go so far as to say any) backstory out of anyone in SCCT: the Kringles used to be Royal Toymakers, but with the rise of the Meisterburgers (or something...that part’s kind of glossed over), they ended up forced into exile. They keep making toys because that’s the family business, and their desire to have those toys actually played with is what gets Kris to travel to Sombertown in the first place.

In Klaus, the “elves” slot is filled by the Saami villagers (alternative spelling: Sami). The Saami people are a real indigenous population based largely in Scandinavia and Russia. In the movie, they are represented the majority of the time by Márgu, who is dismissed by Jesper for a while, then used as someone to talk to, because she doesn’t speak English (or whatever language they speak in Smeerensburg that we the audience hear as English). Eventually Jesper and Klaus make the sled that Márgu has been asking for this whole time. A little later, Márgu’s people all show up at Klaus’s cabin and help with the Christmas preparations. In both SCCT and Klaus, the Santa figure’s distinctive clothing is actually a traditional outfit of the “elf” group—Kris gets a bona fide Kringle suit as his going-away present, and the Saami dress Klaus up in their red garb before his Christmas delivery ride.

Here’s the problem: we never really learn much about the Saami villagers. Why did they decide to hike all the way over to Klaus’s cabin and volunteer their assistance? Where are Márgu’s parents during all that time she spends camping out on the porch of the post office? Since we can’t understand them (unless you are fortunate enough to know their language), we have no real inkling as to their motivations. The only explanation we get is the “one act of goodwill” theme of the film, but it would be nice to get some sort of actual characterization beyond “appreciate a kindness.” Even the myriad citizens of Smeerensburg are not portrayed as a monolith—despite most of the town giving in to the newfound commitment to kindness, we see that there are a few others beyond the clan heads still clinging to the old ways of life. And yet the Saami, who fill an important slot in the Santa mythos, march into Klaus’s cabin as a group, help out as a group, fill the background of the cabin scenes as a group, and are essentially a mystery. The Kringles at least get in some banter as they discuss the arrival of a baby on their doorstep, and we also learn all of their names.

With the Saami taking up residence at Klaus’s cabin, the film culminates in a scene that is a direct parallel to the Rankin and Bass special. In SCCT, the Burgermeister’s soldiers ambush the Kringles, Winter, and Jessica at the workshop in the woods. In Klaus, the same thing happens to their counterparts: the Saami, Klaus, and Alva. Both of these ambushes happen when the Santa figure (for this scene Jesper is the Kris parallel) is not present. I should also point out that in both cases it’s the teacher/love interest who has advance notice of some aspect of The Antagonists’ offensive measures: Jessica hears the Burgermeister ranting about setting a trap for Kris and goes to warn him (but is too late so can only inform Winter and the Kringles), and Alva learns about the Krum/Ellingboe plan to destroy the toys and informs Klaus and the Saami so that they can prepare countermeasures.

After that, we just have some loose ends to tie up in order to solidify the new status quo. The teacher/love interest marries the Santa figure (remember, Jesper has Kris’s role of male lead in the love story subplot), the citizens of Extremely Gray Town reject The Antagonists’ miserable lifestyle once and for all, the Santa figure moves to an obscure and remote place (the North Pole in SCCT, the afterlife/spirit world in Klaus, as the eponymous character is the Kris counterpart for this bit), and the once-a-year appearance is established (Kris has too many toy requests to go more often, Klaus...is operating on spirit world rules? I’m fine with that not being explained). And we end on the postal worker’s closing narration, which affirms the ongoing presence and uplifting spirit of Santa Claus.

So nice try, Netflix! You may have gotten rid of the tendency for characters to break into catchy songs and upped the sadness factor by adding a grieving widower. But Klaus is still a remake of that old Christmas stop-motion classic from 1970. I rest my case.

[badmcuposts]

Seven-Pointed Star

For @avenging-criminal-bones by @badmcuposts [OR READ HERE on AO3]

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: T for language

Relationships: minor Peter/MJ, Peter & Tony, minor Tony/Pepper, Peter & May, Tony & May

Warnings: angst, suicidal thoughts

Summary:

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

There, in broad daylight was the shape of a seven-pointed star. It glowed in a magnificent baby blue, lightly shimmering in the fluorescent lights. In the center, there was a diamond, or a rhombus as the linguists would prefer, matching in hue.

It was beautiful.

One shape.

One goddamn shape was all Tony Stark had ever wanted.

By the time he was six, everyone he knew had already gotten both of their soulmate tattoos. One on the left wrist for romantic, and one on the right wrist for platonic.

He got his left tattoo when he was four, a square with pink and green chevron lining the inside, accompanied by a blue circle in the upper right hand corner.

He remembered frantically dropping his pencil, running to his mother with glee in his eyes. For such a little boy, he really could hold a lot of energy inside of him. Maria thought it was cute, how happy Tony had been about something so common. Like loosing your first tooth.

She’d told him: “Soon, baby, you’ll get your right marking as well. Then we can celebrate all night long after Daddy goes to bed, hm?”

She hadn’t lived to see that happen, though.

At age 31 he still hadn’t gotten his right tattoo. Maybe he was just... unlovable. Not in romance, clearly, but in friendship.

Rhodey had a red and gold triangle, the colors slipping and mixing as they lined to form the hollow shape. Tony liked the colors. They were stylish.

But Happy had the matching tattoo. Not him.

And they always seemed so fucking happy about it, too. Like they were just trying to rub it in Tony’s face. They weren’t- he knew that. God, he wasn’t a toddler. He understood that two people could be friends without it being a personal thing. But... it still hurt, you know?

On sleepless nights, when Tony couldn’t be bothered to drown his sorrows in the lab, he thought about how much better off he would be if he didn’t have to look at that stupid bare skin, each pore taunting him with its nudity.

The assumption stood that, perhaps, if he wasn’t so hell bent on sticking it out for his left wrist’s sake, he would have given in to the right and left a long time ago.

He normally wore long sleeves, to cover his shame behind cloth. He didn’t want people being reminded that Tony Fucking Stark still lacked a platonic soulmate. Like an ingrate. Some kind of mistake of god that nobody could ever match to.

The cloth was it itchy today, though. Maybe he hadn’t washed the blazer properly last night, or it was just his skin being unbearbly sensitive, but it felt... itchy. All morning it had. Like something was going on with him.

“Tony?” Obie asked him. “Can you sign this?”

The man didn’t hesitate to grab the pen, too busy focusing on the itch along his appendage to worry about whatever the hell he was signing. Obie would never lead him astray, anyhow.

As he reached forward to place his John Hancock, he felt a the itch quickly escalate and grow in mere milleseconds, before turning into a horrible burning sensation.

Hot.

Hotter, hotter, hotter it grew. The man grabbed at the skin in pain, hunching over as he screamed. It felt like... the way his left wrist had felt, back when he got his romantic mark.

What the hell?

Could... could it be...? No- was it...

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

There, in broad daylight was the shape of a seven-pointed star. It glowed in a magnificent baby blue, lightly shimmering in the fluorescent lights. In the center, there was a diamond, or a rhombus as the linguists would prefer, matching in hue.

It was beautiful.

His own platonic tattoo. All his. It stood for something. It meant so much- it meant that his being was truly meant to be loved.

It was then that he realized just how odd the timing was. Soulmate tattoos appeared on the eldest’s skin when the younger was born, so why had his come now?

What the hell was he supposed to do with a newborn baby?

-

Peter Benjamin Parker was born with both of his soulmate tattoos already present.

His parents had taken so many photos that day, their shining faces proudly showing off their baby boy’s little markings.

On his left hand, the shape of a black dahlia flower, all done up in blood red. On his right, a beautiful baby blue seven-pointed star with a diamond in the center.

He opened his eyes after a few minutes, crosseyed as most little ones were for the first few months. Peter smiled when his Daddy held his little wrists out, proudly showing them off to the boy.

He spoke of their history, the way that fate had assigned Peter to two people already, people that would love him more than anything in the world. That somewhere in the world- another person shared his special markings. His soulmates at birth, star-crossed partners in love or in friendship.

Of course, at less than a day old, Peter had absolutely no idea what his father was saying, but seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

The infant was absolutely adorable- and had continued in that stride for the years after. He met Michelle in freshman year at Midtown, and they started dating not long after, their matching wrists promising a lifetime of love.

He often wondered, though, as many children would, who had his other matching tattoo.

-

Tony scanned the files he may or may not have stolen from the government.

Each teenage boy had been verified by FRIDAY, a perfect candidate for the little spiderling that had been meander around Queens for the last few months.

There wasn’t much of a reason to it, just some primal instinct he had. No big fight coming up or coup he had to instigate.

The kid had skill, and a lot of untapped potential. He could be great, if only he was trained. Which he wouldn’t be, unless Tony got to him before some rag tag group of thugs did.

God, that would be a mess.

He flipped through the pages, slowly weening out the boy’s that lacked a motive, a concept too human for FRIDAY to understand. Yet.

One file caught his attention, though. The face of a prepubescent boy with messy hair and bright eyes. He was adorable, really. But that’s not what snatched Tony’s eye.

It was the birthdate.

August 10th, 2001 had been the day he got his right tattoo. One of the best days of his life.

There was always the chance that it was a fluke, a coincidence of the ages. Never meant to be, simply crashed in place and left to rest.

But the pictures on the next page of the file sent those thoughts straight underground.

As any other social security file would, this one came with pictures of either soulmate tattoos, accompanied by a description of them for paperwork sake. The images were clearly taken of a newborn baby, likely at the hospital not long after birth.

Peter Parker’s right tattoo was a match.

-

“Hey, May!” Peter called, stepping into the old apartment as he returned from school, his mind still a little bleary over the fact that Cindy Moon had really just chugged 12 diet cokes in one sitting at lunch.

“Oh, hey!” The woman returned, her voice fading in as the boy slowly removed his earbuds and grunted as he sat his backpack down on the chair by the kitchen table. “How was school today?”

He smiled in fond admiration. “Okay.” He responded, “There’s this crazy car parked outside...” he began, before pausing suddenly.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Holy shit.

Was his hair okay? What about his teeth? Was there anything in his teeth? God, there was probably something in his teeth. Were his glasses smudged? Wait- no, no glasses. How about his clothes?

“Oh, Mr. Parker.” The man sitting on his couch acknowledged.

Peter stuttered, his voice leaving him as his face went numb under pressure. The boy had never been used to the spotlight. “I- wha- what? What are you doi- hey, I- I’m- I’m- I’m Peter. Wai-”

“Tony.” The billionaire greeted. His hair was less shiny in person, and he had a few more wrinkles than he did on TV, Peter noticed.

Tony, he had said, like they were... friends or something. Miss Janelle always said that you shouldn’t refer to public figures by their first names, because they aren’t your friends- they’re sources.

That was weird. This was weird. Everything was weird.

The boy stammered. “What are you- what are you- what are you doing here?” Mr. Stark chuckled. “It’s about time we met.”

In his peripheral vision, Peter could just make out his Aunt frantically mouthing “What The Fuck” as her eyes blew up wider than a hornet nest. At least he wasn’t the only shocked one here.

“You’ve been getting my emails, right?” Mr. Stark asked him. Suddenly, the man winked his eyes, smirking a little.

What the fuck?

The boy played along. After all, when Tony Stark is signaling for you to follow his lead and do as he says, you listen. “Yeah, yeah, regarding the...”

“You didn’t tell me about the grant.” May chirped..

Peter took the lead. “About the grant.” He nodded. Wait... what grant?

“The September Foundation.” Mr. Stark allotted, waving his hand as though metaphorically giving Peter the next bit of information for whatever crazy scheme he had just been pulled into.

The boy shrugged and smiled. “Right.” He agreed. “Yeah. Remember when you applied?” Tony asked.

No, Peter thought, I never fucking applied for anything. What the hell is going on, Mr. Iron Man?

But he didn’t say that, did he?

“Yeah.” Peter smiled. The man gleamed. “I approved! So, now, we’re in business.”

May shifted in her seat, seemingly compromised by whatever bullshit story it was that the older male had told her. Seriously, what was their story here? “You didn’t tell me anything, what’s up with that? You keeping secrets from me now?” She asked.

“Well, I just- I just know how much you love surprises.” Peter offered, sending an experimental glance towards the other, testing that he was sticking to the plan he had yet to be informed of.

“Anyway, what did I apply for?” The teen hurriedly asked.

Mr. Stark bluntly blinked, a sign that Peter was definitely not as good of an actor as he liked to hope. Maybe he should start doing drama with MJ, that could help...

“That’s what I’m here to hash out.” The man claimed. “Okay, hash it- hash it out. Okay.” Peter agreed stupidly. He had no idea what he was doing.

As if trained in the art of lying, the richest one in the room drew attention away crom Peter’s misstep. “It’s so hard for me to believe that she’s someone’s aunt.” “Yeah, well we come in all shapes and sizes, you know?” “This walnut date loaf is exceptional.”

“I’m gonna just stop you there.” Peter interjected. God, Tony Stark was hitting on his Aunt.

So. Weird.

Mr. Stark chuckled a little. “Yeah?” He asked.

Suddenly, some distant part of Peter’s mind clicked. His Aunt’s face glowed in his mind, like when a character in a movie saw a hot girl and everything slowed down. Not that he thought May was hot, because, ew.

No, he was focusing on the word: Grant.

“Does this grant, like, got money involved or whatever? No?” He asked.

Mr. Stark slowed, seemingly confused by the question. “Yeah...” He began. “Yeah?” Peter echoed. “Well, it’s- it’s pretty well funded.” Oh. Not as exciting- but, still, being in the presence of money like that...

Peter remembered when he was little, when his still-living father would take him to New Rochelle on the weekends, just to see it.

“Look at these fellas long and hard, Pete.”

“They’re just rich people houses, Daddy!”

“Don’t you wanna live in one of ‘em?”

“Can’t. We’re not rich people.”

“Well? Here’s your inspiration, kiddo. Use that inspiration for your whole life. All you need for success is to be nearby what you want, to remind yourself that it is real and attainable. Then you really will work as hard as you can. This is the goal, so you don’t give up until you’ve got it.”

Peter’s mind wandered back to the present, Mr. Stark’s face still moving with his words. “Wow.” He gasped.

“I mean, look who you’re talking to.” The man joked. He turned to May. “Can I have five minutes with him?” He asked, pointing towards the bedroom off to the side with PETER clearly emblazoned across the door.

May smiled politely, of course, though Peter was pretty sure she was still uncomfortable with a grown man entering Peter’s bedroom. “Sure.”

They piled into Peter’s small bedroom, his twin bed thankfully having been made that morning. It was still a total mess. Mr. Stark really should have given a warning.

-

Tony was just happy that the kid hadn’t spent too long claiming not to be Spider-Man. He was relatively easy to quell, for a 14-year-old. Not that much teen spirit or whatever the kids called it nowadays. One mention of good pay and a spot on the team and the boy was all for the arrangement.

Peter would be working under Tony until he was old enough to join the Avengers Initiative- that is, if Tony says he’s ready then. Just some mentoring, getting the kid some decent field experience. And a better suit, because... yeesh.

That onesie across the room was an insult to all of superhero suit kind.

“Next order of business,” The man continued, “Roll up your sleeve.”

Peter spluttered. “What?” He remarked.

Tony sighed, before doing so on his own account, revealing that ever familiar design to Peter’s eyes.

The boy began to shake, his whole face going pale as he whispered “Is that...”

“A match? One can only be sure in person, kid.”

Peter gingerly removed his jacket and pulled up the right sleeve of his pullover, revealing his own seven-pointed star, made in a perfect baby blue, with a diamond encased in the center.

The man smiled, happily looking down at the little details, all familiar to him.

His own platonic soulmate. Right next to him.

He didn’t understand how or why, but one thing was for certain. This kid? This adorable, dopey-eyed kid with a onesie in his celling. He would protect this kid at all costs.

[margridarnauds]

🍓 tell me about Berenice!

YES real problematic fave hours! [warning for references to alcohol, child death]

Like a ton of my other OCs, she’s immortal. (NOT invulnerable.) As such, she’s been around for...over 2000 years. (Also why the timeline might seem strange because “....Cleopatra....Brennus...English invading....WHAT?”)

Was VERY free-spirited as a young child, her favorite place growing up was the Lighthouse of Alexandria, where she used to watch the ships coming in with Marcus (a ward of her father’s that they found on the streets of Rome after he saved Berenice’s life when they were children), Atria (her future royal physician, Marcus’ sister), and Khensa (her future spymistress), all of them trying to guess where they came from, Berenice usually carting at least one or two books up in order to read in peace.

This stopped when her father disciplined Atria once for something that she did. She swore afterwards that she would never endanger her friends for the sake of her own fun, and she tries to hold religiously to that. It might be her one scruple left, actually. 

Met Cleopatra Philopater once as a small child and it made such an impact that she took quite a bit of inspiration from her, including learning Egyptian. 

Knows at least ten languages, though not all of them to a strong degree of fluency. (She knows at least Latin, Greek, Egyptian, Aramaic, English, a little bit of Irish [though she has issues with it] and Gaulish.) 

Is actually a quarter Persian, on her mother’s side, the rest of her being thoroughly Macedonian. Her grandmother married one of Alexander the Great’s officials, producing Berenice’s mother. 

When her father was murdered by a former suitor of hers, her brothers were also killed, leaving her with no support, as well as the full knowledge that her half-siblings wouldn’t hesitate to kill her if they had a chance. She hid her father’s body for well over a week while waiting for her uncle to arrive.

She was the one to kill said former suitor herself, when Marcus held back, unable, despite his various wrongs, to be the one to plunge the sword in. (Though he was already incapacitated - When he tried to aim for Atria, who was next on his list of “People Berenice Loves” list, she stabbed him in the leg. Part of why Marcus and Berenice never let the full details of what happened that night slip is because of their fear of what would happen if the truth was revealed. It was easier for Marcus, as a lower class man and a former ward of the family, to take responsibility and accept exile instead of execution. Berenice begged for him to be allowed to stay, saying that, if he left, her conscience would leave with him, but no luck. And she was true to her word.) 

Totally commissioned a “Justice for Clytemnestra” book after re-assuming power after the death of her second husband.

She used to be friends with her greatest rival, Elektra, when they were children, the two noble girls viewed as natural companions for each other. But, when Berenice befriended Marcus and Atria, the other girl looked down her nose on them, refusing to play with street rats, and Berenice told her that, if that was the case, she wasn’t going to play with her either. Elektra never forgave the insult, and, while a ton of things happened in the meanwhile to make them reach a point of no return, the first pebble in the avalanche fell there. 

Lives up to the stereotype of Ancient Macedonians and alcohol - She can outdrink even mythical figures RENOWNED for their ability to hold their liquor, and one of the first canonical words out of her mouth is “I was told there would be free wine.” While she was hardly sheltered from it as a child, her usage did intensify in the wake of her father’s + brothers’ deaths, as well as Marcus’ subsequent exile and her second, disastrous marriage. Brennus’ presence, ironically given he’s never been one to hold back from the alcohol, tends to temper her usage.

Whenever Atria publishes a new book on medicine, Berenice always has multiple copies of it made. Part of it is her flexing as Atria’s patron, part of it is that she’s genuinely proud of her friend’s accomplishments and wants the whole world to know that Atria Did A Thing. 

 Married twice, both of them arranged, and twice widowed. Though she loves Brennus dearly, she has massive reservations around actually marrying him, because of what it would mean for her independence.

When her second husband died, she worked quickly to get rid of all his other consorts and children, in a purge that many shuddered to think about decades down the line. 

No cold tolerance - When she had to move from Alexandria to a much colder climate, someplace akin to Alaska in climate, she very nearly died, since her body wasn’t used to the extreme change of temperature. While she’s doing much better these days, she still gets sick quite easily in the winter and needs multiple fur covers on her bed. Brennus, hardened northerner that he is, mocks her RELENTLESSLY for it. 

There are a TON of rumors swirling around her, both among her own people and the New Anglians. At this point, she takes a certain tongue in cheek mentality to it. (”Ah, yes, you see, I was just climbing out of my daily bath of virgin’s blood when the courier came to me and said-”) 

Somewhat ironically, despite her reputation for ruthlessness, she is one of the most aggressive pursuers of murderers, particularly the ones that we would call “serial killers”. All these years, and she’s never forgotten her father’s death, and how easily it could have been avoided if they’d just gotten rid of that man when he’d been killing people on the street. The technology isn’t there to make her as effective as she’d like, but she tries. She doesn’t care if the victim was a fruit seller or one of her court officials: If you kill someone under her watch, you’re going to die a horrible death. 

Keeps a MASSIVE wardrobe of jewelry and clothes. Many of which the New Anglians took when they invaded, but some of which she retains. When she had more personal possessions, she used to hand out her hand-me-downs to Atria and Khensa, so the three of them often look like they have a very similar style. (Atria literally can’t be bothered to go shopping most of the time, spending most of her money on specimens for her medical research/natural philosophy, and Khensa’s work as spymistress tends to mean that her funds are constantly running low.) 

 Is either the single most beautiful or the second most beautiful person in the entire continuity (depending on whether or not you hold that Bres is prettier.) It’s caused her her share of problems, as a woman in the time she’s living in. 

Her family have always felt like they were personally descended from Poseidon, which means that she tends to draw on that a lot for her propaganda, though she herself feels a stronger pull to Aphrodite.

She sometimes doubts her own personality, given how often she finds herself playing a role. She definitely feels like she’s become a monster and, to a certain extent, embraces it as something that was necessary under the circumstances. When Eleanor is a young queen, forced to choose between raising her tyrant brother’s daughter or taking the power for herself, Berenice strongly advised for taking the power, which Eleanor ended up roundly rejecting. 

Her personal color scheme is Tyrian purple and gold, though rose gold also pops up a lot when I’m doing aesthetic stuff for her. Common motifs for her tend to be peacocks (as a nod to Hera and, subsequently, Berenice’s persecution of her husband’s children by other consorts) and beetles. In a Daemon AU, I’ve always thought her Daemon would be a golden snake. 

[danthectoman]

Home for the Holidays

This is my Christmas Truce 2019 gift for @enmitypark ! I had tons of fun writing this, so I hope you enjoy!!!

Read it on AO3!

The Fenton family has just arrived at Vlad’s Colorado retreat by RV at Jack’s insistence and had already hauled their belongings for the week-long trip into their rooms. Gathered in the living room, Vlad passes out four large gift baskets, each emblazoned with the person’s name on an oversized tag in his loopy script. Danny notices that his name has a green tint to it, and gives Vlad an inquisitive look, which is returned with a mischievous wink.

“Alright everyone, open your baskets!” Vlad said with a smile.

“Vlad it’s not Christmas yet!” Maddie argued before being shut down.

“My dear, what is in there will be needed for the rest of their stay. There is no need to object.”

Inside each basket was an assortment of gloves and hats in various styles to match each person’s taste, mixes for each person’s favorite hot drink, mugs, and ski goggles.

Danny's mug is black on the bottom half and white on the top, with a green-tinted NASA logo on both sides. "The logo glows in the dark, by the way," Vlad added. There’s hot cocoa and apple cider mixes tucked inside the mug. His goggles are white around the eyes with a black elastic band. The gloves and a hat are both black with green horizontal stripes down the center. Jazz’s items were all turquoise with black accents in a similar configuration to Danny's. Jack’s gifts held a black and orange color scheme, matching his signature jumpsuit. Maddie’s items were aquamarine, dotted with accents of black.

Everyone gave Vlad a hearty thank you for the gifts and Jack, of course, envelopes Vlad in a bone-crushing hug, lifting the smaller man off the ground. Before, Vlad would have yelled at him for such an act, but after making up with the family and being allowed to be a real godfather to the children, he's come to enjoy Jack's affection. After being placed back on the ground, Vlad lead his guests to the sitting room, the fireplace lit and the undecorated evergreen tree already on a stand in the corner.

“Where are the ornaments? And the decorations? I figured you’d have this whole place decorated to the nines already.” Jazz asks with a questioning look on her face.

“Well, I figured it would be fun if we all decorated the house together. This is Christmas after all, and simply hiring someone to do the decorating feels too impersonal for such an occasion." Vlad said with a genuine smile on his face. He's been smiling quite a lot lately. It was something new and entirely welcome.

“That’s right! So, let’s get a move on and start decorating already!! So, where’s the ghostly garland and tinsel?” Jack was so excited he could hardly wait. This time of the year always meant cookies and fudge, and he couldn’t get enough of those.

“Ah, ghostly garland? Do I even want to know what that is?” Vlad asked, an admonished look on his face.

“Sure ya do, Vladdie! It’s just like normal holiday garland, but dipped in ectoplasm! That way, it glows in the dark!” Jack explained with a smile on his face. If the man thought any of what he just described violated the millions of lab safety rules he learned in college, he didn’t show it.

“….Oh, no, that’s not part of the decorations. I have more… traditional decorations than that.” Vlad replied, wondering just what kind of Christmases the children had had. Perhaps this was a splendid idea after all.

“Oh darn. What about,” Jack began, hurriedly cut off by Maddie, a somewhat exasperated look on her face.

“Jack! Be patient, we just got here! At least let us all catch up and enjoy some time outside of the RV before we start working.” Maddie chided her excited husband. She may love the man, but he sure did like to act like a child when it came to Christmas.

Vlad stepped back and motioned to the large sitting area around the fire. Since the last time Danny and Maddie were here, two couches had been added, creating a semicircle around the fireplace. “Excellent idea, my dear. What would everyone like to drink?”

Everyone gave their drink orders and Vlad went to the kitchen to grab them. Everyone finds their spots on a couch; Maddie and Jack taking one couch, Jazz sitting on the other, and Danny taking a chair, assuming Vlad would take the one next to him. Vlad returned with everyone’s mugs balanced on a wooden serving tray and made a loop around the room, everyone grabbing their drinks. After returning the tray to its place, he sat down in the chair next to Danny. As the conversation picked up between the three adults, Danny couldn’t help but think back on how much the other halfa had changed since they met.

The two had formed an almost loving relationship in the past few months since the Pariah incident. Danny supposed that was just the kick in the ass the old fruitloop needed, since almost immediately after the horrible schemes to kill his father and seduce his mother stopped. He didn’t see hide nor hair of Vlad until Danny came home one day to find the man sitting on the couch with his parents, explaining almost everything and working through some of the misunderstandings the three had had for the last twenty years. It had been odd, to say the least, to see Vlad not only without his signature suit but without the bravado the man had exuded from their first meeting. It suited him, this vulnerable look, every expression genuine.

Shortly after that night, Vlad began visiting more often, at least two nights a week sometimes, just to visit and see what was going on in the family’s lives. At first, Danny was against the visits, still caught up in the way Vlad had treated him and thinking the two were still rivals. Then while Danny was on patrol one night, Skulker surprised him and hit him with a shock strong enough to knock him out. When Danny came to, he was laying on Vlad’s couch with a thin blanket over him, the man himself looking quite concerned over the boy. That night, the two had an actual, honest, and open conversation about everything. After that, Danny was more comfortable around the man and even allowed the older halfa to be his mentor.

Danny was pulled out of his thoughts as his father laughed particularly hard at a joke, probably told by Vlad. As everyone finished their drinks, Danny went around and collected the mugs, cleaning them quickly in the kitchen. When he returned, the boxes of decorations were being brought into the sitting room by Jack and Vlad as Jazz and Maddie took items out of the boxes and set knickknacks around the room. Danny jumped in with his sister and mother to set up a mini Christmas tree on a side table by the entrance to the room, delicately unboxing the tree and fluffing its green plastic branches.

Jazz began to decorate the large pine tree while Jack hammered nails into the mantle and hung the stockings, all of which were embroidered in each person’s name. Maddie was next to him on a stool setting up a village of ceramic snowmen, complete with little ceramic buildings and animals, on top of the mantle. Vlad set to work on untangling a new strand of Christmas lights that, despite just coming out of the box, managed to tangle themselves into a nest of wires. Vlad looked as if he has given up on humanity as a whole for creating those lights.

And so the night went on in peace, the family going from room to room decorating the cottage in Christmas cheer. One box from the pile had different types of holiday hats, including 5 Santa hats in varying sizes. Maddie grabbed the elf hat for herself, Jack simply took a Santa hat at his wife’s insistence, and Jazz took a headband with felt reindeer antlers on it. Danny rooted through the box and found the absolute perfect thing for Vlad; a pair of candy canes attached to a headband to look like antlers, bells attached to the curved ends so they jingled with every movement. Danny thought about taking a stereotypical Santa hat, but decided against it, going instead for a headband with foil presents attached to springs, also with bells on the end.

Vlad was currently rooting through a box in an attempt to find the tree topper he’d picked out for this occasion. Danny crept up behind Vlad as quietly as he could with several bells bouncing about at each movement and placed the candy cane headband on his head with a wild grin on his face. Vlad rolled his eyes and looked up at Danny, giving him an amused look through the hair now messily spread over his eyes. Falling back onto his haunches from his earlier position on his knees, Vlad gave a small laugh and commented, “Thank you, Little Badger, but I believe a headband is supposed to move the hair OUT of your eyes, not further into them.” An adjustment of his hairband so he could see later, Vlad resumed the search for the tree topper, a smile on his lips.

“Ah, here it is!” Vlad cheered as he finally found the topper, proudly displayed in its box. It was a giant silver snowflake, with what Danny sincerely hoped were large ruby rhinestones embedded in the center and emeralds embedded in each arm of the snowflake.

“Oh, it’s absolutely beautiful!” Maddie exclaimed, with a slight sparkle in her eyes. She had always loved Christmas so much when her father was alive and was ready to have a traditional Christmas this year.

“Jack, would you do the honors? After all, you are a guest here.” Vlad asked while standing up and removing the topper from its box.

“Aw, sure! Plus, I think I’m the only one who can reach the top without a ladder anyways!” Jack said with excitement laced in his voice and a shine in his eyes.

Jack reached up with both arms and attached the snowflake to the top of the nearly seven-foot-tall tree as carefully as the large man could. After the snowflake was secured and plugged into the light strands, Jack stepped back to admire everyone’s work. Vlad had tucked in the lights, Jazz added the garland, Maddie had strategically hooked the ornaments on the branches, and Danny had added the tinsel. The whole tree was gorgeous, even without the lights lit.

“Daniel, would you like to do the honors?” Vlad asked, raising the plugin for the lights in Danny’s direction.

           “Sure thing, Uncle Vlad," Danny said with a soft smile thrown the man's way as he approached and took the wire from his outstretched hand. Sure, that looked sappy and showed he had feelings, but it was the holidays! Danny was allowed to show some feelings.

           Danny bent down in front of the electrical socket and plugged the cord in, the tree casting an atmospheric kaleidoscope of colors across the room. He stood back up and joined the others in staring at the magnificent tree they had put together, a sense of accomplishment filling the room. Jack threw an arm over Maddie’s shoulder and looked down at her as if she was an angel and brought her into his side. Maddie shifted to wrap an arm around his waist and place a hand on his chest. Jazz placed her left arm over her brother’s shoulder and rested her right hand on his other shoulder, placing her forehead on the side of his head in the kind of hug only siblings can give.

           Vlad sat back and watched the family interact with each other, showing affection earnestly, and was still not entirely sure where he fits in in this dynamic. This was the first Christmas he had spent with people that were not related to his business, after all. Before he could get too deep into this line of thinking, there was a pair of arms wrapped around his midsection and a head of fluffy black hair pressed against his chest. A longer pair of arms, a little above the first set, joined them. A taller set wrapped around his arms and chest, gluing his arms to his sides. Finally, a pair of arms came from above and lifted the group into the air, laughter escaping everyone as they had the life squeezed out of them in a loving embrace.

The group stayed locked in a hug for a long time, simply enjoying the moment, antlers and hats and springs lightly bumping into each other as the soft jingles of bells wafted through the air. As everyone separated, they were filled with love. The feeling floated through the air and mingled with the light scent of cinnamon coming from some pinecones sitting in a glass bowl on the coffee table.

This moment is what Christmas was supposed to be for the Fenton family, which now included one billionaire with a reformed heart of gold. Not the fighting over theories of Santa that usually come about this time of year, or the hyper-focus on ghostly happenings, or any of the other things the two parents dis that detracted from the holiday cheer for their children. A moment of unrestrained happiness for everyone in the room.

“This has been fun and all, Vladdy, but what’s for dinner?” Jack asked with a sheepish look.

With a laugh, Vlad answered, “There’s a stew in the Crockpot that I prepared before you all arrived. It should be ready by now.”

“Great! Let’s get a move on! All this holiday cheer has me starving!” Jack yelled, already charging for the kitchen and the gold and green Packers crockpot sitting on the granite countertop.

Maddie followed her husband into the kitchen with a soft and loving smile, leaving Vlad and the children standing next to the tree. With a gesture of his arm towards the kitchen, Vlad told the children, “Go on, I have to go last anyways since I'm the chef.”

“Thanks for all this, Vlad. This is just what we needed.” Jazz said with a laugh and a hug. “I better go before dad eats it all.” She entered the kitchen and took a bowl from her mother.

Vlad smirked down at Danny and nodded his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Better hurry, Little Badger. You’ve had a long day.” The two entered the kitchen as everyone else filed out and grabbed their bowls of stew.

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, with everyone piled around the fireplace in their pajamas. Holiday movies played on the television on a lower volume, stories of snowmen and reindeer and Santa interspersed with advertisements. Outside the window, snow fell lightly and piled into small drifts in the pale moonlight. An owl hooted in the distance. The stars above twinkled unobserved, and the night was calm.

The next morning, Christmas morning, Vlad awoke to the smell of coffee wafting into his room. He simply laid in bed for a few more minutes, knowing he was going to have a long day and wanting this moment to last forever. Brilliant white light reflected through the red curtains, showing there was a good snowfall last night. Vlad had hoped that would happen so there would be fresh powder on the slopes of the hills around the cabin for everyone to enjoy.

With a long stretch and a yawn, Vlad carded his hands through his long silver locks, straightening some of the crimped hair around his crown. He should probably brush it out before he leaves his room, but he’s sure it won’t hurt if he just threw his hair into a quick bun. Vlad rose from his bed and stretched once more, made his bed, and slipped a pair of house shoes on as he prepared to face the day. Straightening his shirt and pants, he follows the rich aroma of coffee to the kitchen, where Maddie, Jack, and Jazz were already fixing their cups with sugar and creamer.

A chorus of ‘morning’s’ met him at the doorway, which he returned. Out the kitchen window, his suspicions of snow were confirmed. It looked like there may have been six inches or so of snow, based on the covering, perfect for a good day of skiing and snowboarding. Grabbing his mug out of the cupboard, Vlad began making his coffee as the others went to the sitting area. Jazz set her cup down and walked to the tree, plugging it in and opening the curtains on a set of windows to give a full view of the surrounding landscape.

The entire scene was comforting to Vlad, who was so used to this cabin being empty save for himself and Maddie, his cat. Setting himself down in the chair he sat in last night, he couldn’t help but try to memorize every sensation he felt in this moment, focusing on the fuzziness and softness rising from his chest. Vlad was glad he was a better man than he was a year ago, but he also knew just how slippery of a slope he was on. One wrong move and all this comfort would be lost.

“So, what’s on the agenda today, Vladdy? Got something big planned for us, aside from opening presents and making dinner?” Jack asked with a yawn behind his coffee cup.

“Well, I was thinking we could all go skiing this morning. That’s why I placed a pair of goggles in each of your bags, after all. It would give us a chance to go outside for a while, and the fresh snow will make for some amazing skiing. Next, we could make up the ham in the fridge and some sides, then open the presents” Vlad explained as he cradled the warm cup in his hands.

“Oh, that sounds great! That doesn’t give us very much time to get everything done, though. Maybe we could push the skiing back a day, just to make extra time for cooking. After all, Christmas dinner is the last big meal of the year.” Jack said.

“Besides, we don’t even have skis.” Maddie pointed out.

Vlad waved his hand and explained, “Firstly, that does sound a bit better. I honestly forget how long it takes to cook a full dinner. Secondly, don’t worry about the ski situation. I’ve already bought everyone both a pair of skis and a snowboard. Everyone can choose what they want to use.” The one drawback to having a kitchen crew is that when you're without them you forget that cooking could take a long time.

"That's very kind, Vlad. Where will we be skiing? Do you own a resort around here or something?” Jazz asked in earnest. She just knew she was going to tear it up on a snowboard.

Vlad barked out a chuckle and replied, “No, I do not. Though, I suppose since I own a large expanse of the woods around here and have certain hills outfitted with miniature ski lifts, I may as well own a ski resort. There’s also a large pond not far from one such hill. If you would like to ice skate, it is open to you all. It should be fully frozen by now.”

“Oh, that should be fun! I’ve never ice skated before!” Jazz exclaimed. “I just hope I can keep my balance.” Jazz said with a nervous laugh.

“I’m sure ol’ Vlad could teach you! He was an amazing ice skater back in college! Practically had the ladies in line to learn from him!” Jack boomed with a hearty wink in the direction of his old college friend.

“Jack, you know just as well as I do that you’re exaggerating. Rest assured, we were unpopular enough that nobody waited in line for us, or even thought to make a line, for that matter.” Vlad said in a voice that sounded too much like his college whine for comfort. “Sure, I was pretty good, but it HAS been twenty years. I highly doubt that I have enough leg strength to successfully do what I did back then.” Vlad explained with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh, I know you can do it, Uncle Vlad! Please, could you teach me? It’d mean a lot!” Jazz asked, making puppy dog eyes at the man in hopes he would buy it. She didn’t think she would do good. At all. But she has always wanted to try, so why not?

With a sigh, Vlad answered “Alright, fine, I’ll do it. It looks like I’ll have to hunt out my pair of skates, though. I haven’t seen them in years, so I have no idea what kind of condition they’re even in.” The next day was going to be full too, it seemed.

“Thank you so much!” Jazz exclaimed as she rose from her seated position on the couch. “Would you like any more coffee?” she asked Vlad as she held a hand out for his mug.

“No, but thank you for the offer, Jasmine. I want to make sure Daniel can have as much as he wants as well.” Vlad answered as he handed the mug over.

While Jazz is in the kitchen putting the mugs down, she threw a good morning in Danny’s direction. The boy’s hair looked as if he had just woken up and ran his hands through it, sticking up at odd angles. He still had some dark bags under his eyes, but they seemed lighter today since he was finally getting some sleep on this vacation from Amity Park. No ghosts had messed with him so far, and he almost wanted to live here with the billionaire on that fact alone. He contemplated this as he picked out his black and white mug from the drainboard and shoveled in an obscene amount of sugar, followed by a flood of peppermint-scented caffeine.

Walking into the living room, Danny curled up in his chair and yawned, still not awake. “Good morning, Daniel. You look well-rested. Finally have a good night’s sleep, I assume?” Vlad asks with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. For once the boy didn’t look half dead, and Vlad was overjoyed to see his godson look that content.

“Mornin’ Fruitloop. I slept almost as good as a dead man, honestly.” Danny replied, a small and tired smile on his face. The only reply Danny received from the billionaire was a deadpan expression of earnest disbelief at his antics.

“Guess what, son? Today we’re all going to pile into the kitchen and cook, just like a real family!” Jack exclaimed, a smile on his face.

“Really? What’re we having? We don’t usually cook on Christmas, aside from warming up some ham and making those bagged potatoes.” Danny was almost scared. His mom wasn’t the most amazing cook, and don’t even get him STARTED on dad. It took Jazz pulling dad aside to make him realize that boiling frozen crinkle-cut French fries and mashing them wasn’t the same thing as mashed potatoes. Just the memory sent a shiver down the boy’s spine.

“Oh, we’ll be having a honey-baked ham, sweet potatoes topped with marshmallows, mashed potatoes and gravy, green bean casserole, and some desserts. All of which we’ll be preparing today.” Vlad explained, mentally taking stock of what needed to go into the oven at what time, the ham being the first dish since it took so long to cook. “Dinner should be done around four or five, depending on cooking times.”

“And we already made up the Fenton Fudge this morning while the coffee was making. I probably should have prepared it last night, but it slipped my mind. It should be hardened enough by tonight, though.” Maddie explained as she rose. “So, should we get this cooking show on the road? We’re burning daylight just sitting here talking about making dinner.”

“I suppose we should. I did get a fairly large ham this year, and it may take a while to cook. Thankfully, it shouldn’t take long to prepare.” Vlad said as he rose from his seat, Jack copying his movements.

“That’s great! While you all do that, I’ll bring the rest of the presents inside from the RV and wrap a few more. Jazz, honey, want to help? Then Danny-boy can take the time to wake up.” Jack asked his daughter with a smile on his face.

“Coming dad! I still have a few I need to wrap up too!” Jazz said as she stood and followed her dad upstairs to get her coat.

Vlad and Maddie walked into the kitchen, chatting about their favorite holiday recipes while Danny took his time drinking his coffee, knowing today was going to be a great day, despite his previous dislike of the holiday.

The rest of the day past in a blur for the family of five as dinner was cooked, gifts were wrapped, and Christmas tunes gently echoed through the house. Occasionally, the radio would belt out a crowd favorite and everyone would sing, Danny’s voice cracking horribly as he tried to hit the high notes of “All I Want for Christmas is You.” Another time, Danny and Vlad teamed up to echo the lyrics of “Deck the Halls,” followed by Jack and Maddie performing a heartfelt duet of “Silver Bells” while they mashed the sweet potatoes and covered them in marshmallows. Jazz, not one to sing in front of others, even found the confidence to sing along with Wham! to “Last Christmas” for an impressive solo act, complete with a can opener microphone.

As the last of the dishes were finished and placed on the dinner table, the group sighed in relief. After hours, and a few burns, the meal was complete. The ham had a perfect brown glaze and delicious pink meat, perfectly moist. The marshmallows were a golden brown, and the mashed potatoes were white and fluffy. The smells that rose from the table were divine, and nobody could wait to dig in.

“What are we waiting on, let’s eat! I’m starved!” Jack exclaimed as he reached for a serving of mashed potatoes.

“You just read my mind, dad.” Danny laughed as he picked a piece of ham from his place on Vlad’s left. Maddie and Jack sat on the other side of the table, and Jazz was seated on her mother’s left side.

With that, everyone dug in, passing dishes around the rectangular dining table and eating their fill. Stories of family holidays were exchanged among the three adults as the children sat back and listened, laughing at times and giving their input at the end of each story.

Vlad shared stories of his childhood, of days spent playing on the family farm chasing chickens and running through cornfields without a care in the world. Danny never pinned Vlad as a farm kid from southern Wisconsin, but clearly, looks can be deceiving, especially those from a man who painstakingly crafted his professional appearance out of spite. Jack shared similar stories of caring for his parents’ cows on the dairy farm he grew up at. It was all the same stories that everyone at the table had heard a hundred times over the years, but each time was said just a bit differently. Maddie loved to talk about her and Alicia’s childhood as well, rambling about roaming the dirt roads in their home town on cool fall nights.

After dinner and a quick interlude to clean up and put the leftovers in the icebox, the family gathered in the family room once again. This time, Maddie and Jack sat on one couch, while Jazz and Danny occupied the other. Vlad moved one of the armchairs to Jack’s side of the couch and placed the other against a wall, which was immediately filled by Maddie the Cat. As was tradition, Danny and Jazz, being the youngest, handed presents out, each person’s piles stacked high with colorful boxes, bags, and misshapen lumps that definitely held clothing.

“3…2…1… Have at it!” Maddie shouted, throwing her hands into the air.

After a moment’s hesitation, Danny and Jack tore into the presents in unison with little regard to saving the shiny gift wrap. Danny received the telescope he’s been wanting for months, a Meade Polaris 130 EQ Reflector Telescope, and a tapestry that listed the different constellations with each individual star meticulously labeled. Those two alone were the best gifts he could have asked for. He also got the expected shirts, pants, and socks, along with a few new journals with stars on the covers.

Jack received items that mainly revolved around ghost hunting and science, like the pajama set printed with a cartoon version of Slimer from Ghostbusters. Since he worked almost constantly on the engineering side of their business, he was given a new set of wrenches and pliers, having lost many of them in the portal. He unwrapped a few sets of socks and a new jumpsuit, too.

Maddie, contrary to the boys’ style of unwrapping, carefully removed the tape off each metallic fold in her gift wrap and refolded the paper to use again. Her boxes contained a peppermint and cinnamon bath set and a beginner’s crochet set intended to help her achieve her goal of relaxing more in the new year. There was a colorful box of glitter pens and a journal wrapped in ribbons in her pile, as well as a new jumpsuit from her husband.

Jazz wasn’t as careful in her unwrapping as her mother, but she took her time opening each present. One package contained a large empty scrapbook with white paper, and another had a sticker set, colorful pens, and other little additions one would need to start scrapbooking. There were also two psychology-related books that Vlad had helped Jack pick out, one full of thought experiments and the other a textbook on teen and young adult mindsets for therapists-in-training. There were also a few new scarves, sweaters, and jeans.

Last but not least, Vlad opened his gifts slowly, treasuring the feeling of community and love he felt with his new family. He received a new red tie and handkerchief with some square cufflinks. In a bag was a collection of classic horror novels, which Vlad considered his guilty pleasure. He also received a box filled with yellow, wrinkled pages that held the writings of his old D&D campaign from back in college. Jack and Maddie seemed eager to start a new campaign with him, as they missed playing, and Vlad agreed immediately.

Finally, in a big square box, labeled from Danny, there was a black square scrapbook with an embossed gold Green Bay Packers logo on the front. Vlad didn’t even know the boy knew how to scrapbook. Upon opening the front cover, Vlad found a selfie Danny took the first time they had a real outing together. The two had gone out for coffee and had ended up going to the local observatory to watch one of their star tours. They had walked through the museum, and come to a replica cockpit for the Apollo 11 space shuttle. Somehow, Daniel convinced him to climb into the small seat with him and had taken a few photos, the last of which Vlad had finally smiled in, knees shoved into his chest and a raised eyebrow looking into the lens. Vlad decided to look through that later, almost afraid of what might be in there.

After all the presents were opened, Maddie collected the shredded paper and piled it into trash bags. As the night wound down, everyone looked through their presents and removed them from their packing, then changed into their new pajamas.

Jazz settled in with a book and Maddie began to write about the day in her new journal. Danny sketched some animals into a journal with the NASA logo on the front in metallic ink. Jack looked at his new tools and started planning new gadgets, making small sketches in his idea book. Vlad was focused on sorting out all the old papers from their many college campaigns and organizing them based on the time they happened.

The house was calm and warm, and all was as it should be on Christmas day.

[travllingbunny]

The 100 6x05 The Gospel of Josephine

While we’re still on the hiatus, waiting two weeks for the next episode, at least I have more time to finally put my thoughts on episode 6x05 in one place and post the belated review.

I appreciated this episode better on my second watch, because, the first time, I found it a bit hard to believe that no one besides Bellamy was suspicious of „Clarke“’s new, decidedly non-Clarke-like behavior, even though they all noticed at least some of it, and that they didn’t put two and two together after they had already found out about bodysnatching. However, putting it into perspective, it all happened over a very short period of time – and besides, it is such a huge thing to accept. Most people wouldn’t even want to believe it.  

Still, while everyone seems to have caught the small blunders, like calling Murphy „John“, I do wonder if anyone except Bellamy was alerted by the fact that „Clarke“ was OK with bodysnatching and arguing that it’s OK because it doesn’t affect them. Could it be that their idea of her is a bit skewed? The funny thing is how much others (well, mostly Raven and Murphy) were bashing Clarke this season as the Worst Person Ever, and now her body is possessed by an actual villain, who is the polar opposite of Clarke: selfish, egotistical, immoral, arrogant, devoid of compassion and caring, allergic to children, and convinced that she is better than everyone and that she can just walk over the lesser, disposable people. There are even some people in the fandom who somehow imagine Clarke to be the Bad Guy, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary, which is a really incredible misunderstanding of the story and characters. Well, if people wanted to see a real villain in Clarke’s body? They got her now.

I expected the reveal about Clarke not being dead (surprise, surprise) but dormant, to happen at the end of this episode. It turns out it will probably happen in the next one.. Even though I can’t wait to see real Clarke again, watching JosephineClarke (JC) try and fail to pretend to be her was a lot of fun. To be fair, JC knows very little about Clarke, so of course she wouldn’t be able to guess how she’s supposed to act, but her hubris also got in the way. Thinking that, just because she was once in a famous play, she would be able to pretend to be a person she’s never met, is perfectly in character for JC, with her dismissive attitude towards „disposable“ people, which made her blunders so much more enjoyable to watch. Eliza Taylor did a great job giving JC completely different voice inflections and mannerisms from Clarke, at times just as playful and carefree as Sara Thompson’s original Josephine we saw in 6x02, but also more evil and scheming. Her „Clarke“ act went from basically just being JC herself in new situations, to doing something of a caricature of Clarke, in her „These people are happy, their world works“ speech in her final scene with Bellamy. But, she’s certainly smart, so she ended up deciding there’s no point of pretending with some people, namely Bellamy, and that she needs a better ’coach“ to teach her how to play Clarke and manipulate the one person who, as it turns out, matters to the Primes’ plan, Abby, so it will be interesting to see her doing her best after getting some pointers on how Clarke would act.

We also learned about something called Offering Grove – apparently, the Sanctum community doesn’t just sacrifice people to their ’gods“, the Primes, so they could live forever – they also do the classic human sacrifice, in this case – to the meat-eating trees. Lovely. And we see another weird thing specific to this planet – the strange green storm that seems to destroy or age or suck the life out of living beings. I’m hoping for more info on that in the following episodes.

One of the great things about this season is the amazing cinematography. Metaphorically, season 6 has been dark AF, but, fortunately, it’s not literally dark, as so many shows are these days when they try to be „dark and gritty“, so everyone wears black and grey and you can’t see a damn thing on screen due to poor lighting. No – The 100 season 6 has incredibly bright colors, with a planet that looks beautiful, with Sanctum looking like Renaissance Fair and with people in all sorts of rich, colorful clothes – and it’s all incredibly weird and disturbing.

Josephine’s first actions after waking up in a new body? Kill her „best friend“ Kaylee, after calling her out on the fact that Kaylee killed her in her previous body; paint a portrait of herself, while dancing and singing along to „Alors on dance“; take a shower and change clothes.

So, Josephine thinks that Kaylee and her family were running away because they were scared Russell would find out that Kaylee killed Josephine VII. But how were they supposed to find out? The only new ’naming’ was Priya. The next one was to be in 14 years, when Rose turns 21, and that was supposed to be Jasmine (someone Miranda loved, but we don’t get info what she was to her). There wouldn’t be a new Josephine for a long time. This doesn’t really make sense, unless there was another reason why they were eager to get away from Sanctum.

It’s been fun piecing the info about the identities and relationships of the Primes. So far, we know for sure that there were 13 people in the Eligius 3 mission = four families, plus Dr Gabriel Santiago, the geneticist. Those were:

Russell, Simone and Josephine Lightbourne;

Priya Desai and her teenage son Ryker (we learn her last name from her plaque in this episode)

Kaylee („Leelee“ as Josephine calls her), her mother (Faye), father and brother (I currently think the father was called Victor and the brother Daniel).

Miranda and her family, which consisted of Jasmine and a man we saw on the portraits of the Primes on the walls of Sanctum in 6x02 (some say that his name on the plaque in high resolution reads as Caleb Mason). We still don’t know for sure what the relations within that family are. I initially assumed Jasmine was her daughter, but from the way the portraits were lined up (parents above, kids below – and only Caleb was above, with two portraits below), it seems more likely they were sisters. (Or, who knows,, maybe one is his daughter and another is her wife.)

Although Josephine and Kaylee were apparently ’best friends“ (weird friendship, that one), that relationship had to develop that way only after their first lifetime, because the age difference between them seemed to be at least 10 years. Josie doesn’t seem to have much use for children, and Kaylee and her brother were pre-adolescent children during the original mission – the same ones that Josie used to test the unknown plants that, for all she knew, could have killed them. „I didn’t try it. I gave it to the kids. Leelee loved it. If it was poisonous, they’d be dead by now!“

The backstory is that Kaylee killed Josie, after Josie killed someone called Isaac, and non-Prime that Kaylee loved, possibly a boyfriend, though Josie claimed he volunteered to be sacrificed in the Offering Grove. I guess murder is a bit less seriously taken if it just means you get to wait for a few decades to be put in another body. So, basically, Josie decommissioned Kaylee, so, right now, there are just 6 active Primes: Russell, Simone, Miranda, Priya, Ryker, and Josie, but the other Primes don’t know about her yet. They wouldn’t be happy to know Russell and Simone skipped the line for their daughter – Miranda, in particular, would be pissed. They also don’t want the others to know about the whole killing thing, which is why all the sneaking had to happen. The Primes need the Earth people because they hope several of them are Nightbloods. It’s a reasonable assumption, but an incorrect one – but that’s not going to be important after what JC learns later about Abby’s ability to make Nightblood in the lab.

JC and Russell are kind of like Cage and Dante: Russell really likes to think of himself as a moral, noble guy, in spite of the horrible things he’s been doing for 236 years, so he has moral boundaries, such as, no bodyshatching without the hosts’ consent (it’s OK if you first brainwash people into worshipping you so that they will willingly sacrifice themselves and believe they’re becoming „one“ with the deity and that it’s a great honor), though he broke that rule for Josie; and no eugenics, which Josephine has been arguing for, even to the point that she wrote a book about it. From the immoral sociopathic POV, selective breeding really is the best and most obvious way to ensure the birth of new Nightbloods, but Russell insists he won’t treat human beings as cattle. (Even though he already does in many other ways?)  As in season 2, you find yourself wondering: should I be more on the side of the immoral sociopath, or the huge hypocrite? Answer: f*ck both of them.

I really hope Josephine’s science books contain the driest, most straightforward prose possible, because, while she’s brilliant in many ways, literary talent is certainly not one of her strength. „This Ferrari I’m wearing“? Fun line, but what a mixed metaphor.

So, yeah, as we all know Josephine finds Murphy cute rather than Bellamy, which was obviously thrown there to subvert viewer expectations, and stress once more how completely different she is from Clarke etc.… but „he’s cute“?! She’s 200 years old and she talks like a pre-teen? There’s been some discussion over whether the Primes ever really emotionally mature over their many lifetimes. Josephine doesn’t sound any more mature than she was in the flashback in 6x02, and come to think of it, Ryker kind of has an attitude that could fit a teenager. But I don’t think it has anything to do with brain maturity, they are in adult brains, and they certainly have experiences of multiple lifetimes and centuries. I think it’s a consequence of they way of life (similar to how people who, due to circumstances, still live with their parents and are supported by them way into adulthood tend to act younger than people who have adult responsibilities early in life): all the Primes are locked into the past (even with the way JC can’t stop using 21st century slang and references), and even new relationships they develop cannot last beyond one lifetime, while their relationships with each other can go on indefinitely. Kaylee acts like an adult, not a little girl, but her primary relationships are always going to be with her parents and brother, and, as we saw in 6x02, those familial relationships didn’t change at all: during the hijacking, the dad („younger man“) seemed to be telling the son/brother („handsome older gentleman“) what to do, and Momma Faye (the „younger woman“) was definitely in charge and ordering Kaylee around („Just push the damn buttons, Kaylee!“) and telling her with her dying breath that she has to save the heads, though Kaylee already knew that.

Speaking of all the time in the world that the Primes have had – couldn’t Russell and Simone have made an effort to learn Mandarin in all that time? You live so long and you never care to learn new skills and expand knowledge? What do they even do with their time? At least Josephine has been writing books.

I wonder when Gabriel decided to leave and became the enemy of the Primes. He must have had an attack of conscience, after having done such awful things. Of course, people who were developed by Gabriel from embryos they brought from Earth were the ones used as hosts for the Primes, and are also obviously where the entire human population of Sanctum came from. We also learned that 45 or 46 of little embryo girls (I don’t remember the exact number) died in his experiments before he managed to successfully implant Josephine’s mind into one of them, after realizing that the host has to have a fully developed, adult brain. (Was this also the case with the minds of Prime children – if Kaylee, her brother and Ryker were also killed during Russell’s killing spree?) And „consent is key“ wasn’t something Russell cared at the time, since he had no problem with Josie’s mind being implanted in the body of the obviously unwilling and horrified Brooke, who was fighting and screaming until Gabriel injected her with the paralyzing serum (now we know why it was initially developed). Apart from the effect of loneliness and isolation after so many (all?) of the other people in the mission were killed, Russell’s guilt over it, Gabriel’s obsession with Josephine, finding out at some point that Earth was no more (7 years after they came to the planet), another factor could have been that they had the same attitude towards clones as many people seem to have in real life – that they are somehow not „real people“ because they didn’t get conceived and born the regular way (what’s with all the talk of cloning as a way to harvest organs?!).

How did the Primes choose Jade to be the bodyguard of the hosts (and now JC, who doesn’t seem to need someone to protect her anyway)? Did they go „Let’s find the smallest person in this compound!“ But I have a feeling that „bodyguard“ is not exactly the best description of Jade’s job. It’s just what Diyoza called her, and it seemed like the closest term.  

In spite of all the new info about the Primes, this was an episode with strong character moments for Murphy, Abby (with important character revelations about both, about things that make them potentially most vulnerable to Josie’s manipulation), Octavia, Diyoza, Gaia, even some for Jackson, certainly for Jordan (it’s his best episode so far), and Bellamy had some good scenes, but in his case, this episode was a calm before the storm, leading up to the moment when realizes the horrible truth about JC.

Bellamy also deserves points for making plans to explore the planet (and pointing out how weird it is that the Sanctum people haven’t explored much of the planet for 236 years… really, what have they been doing? They’re content to stay locked in their small, narrow space and old habits), and go and found their own community somewhere, away from Sanctum, after learning the important things from them. Someone had to finally mention all these things, and those 400 people still on the ship. To be fair, they’ve only been in Sanctum for a few days and were mostly distracted by other things, including trying to get Sanctum people to accept them and teach them to survive.

Jordan has been fleshed out a lot in the last couple of episodes. We knew him as a sweet, optimistic manboy, and we learned of his brilliant scientific knowledge in the premiere, and sure, he could be naive and trusting, but in 6x04, we saw his sadness and feelings of guilt as he talked about his upbringing and his parents, and now we’ve seen him make the right conclusions and be the first person to pay attention to the suspicious things in Sanctum (which, I think, the others would have also noticed earlier if they hadn’t been so eager to see the Sanctum people as good and to find peace), and determined to investigate what’s going on, after realizing that his girlfriend really isn’t the same person anymore, literally. He had to face obstacles such as, others not taking him seriously (and dismissing him as just a naive guy who’s dealing with being dumped) and the extremely brainwashed Sanctum citizens, including even Delilah’s mother. Priya VII even tried to pacify him by claiming Delilah was happy, which sounds like BS, since we know that the Primes believe that the hosts are ’dead’, which means they have no clue what, if anything, the host is feeling.

However, I didn’t like Jordan’s line about „Heart Bellamy“ – that was too much like breaking the fourth wall, like Jordan was the stand-in for the fandom and the things they say about Bellamy pre- and post-Praimfaya (which I’ve been pretty fed up with, to the point I’m almost starting to hate all the „Head“ and „Heart“ mentions, since they’re used to ridiculously oversimplify the characters of both Bellamy and Clarke). I guess I can imagine Monty and Harper telling them that Bellamy told them on the ring he had to use his head more, to honor Clarke’s memory, because she told him to do that – but it’s still jarring.

When Jordan, Gaia, Bellamy and Murphy broke into the lab and found the videos, it may seem like it was way too easy and that all the info was just lying there waiting, but the fact that the Primes didn’t think they needed anyone to guard it shows how complacent they are, how much they’re used to everyone in Sanctum supporting them, except for a rare Child of Gabriel – and everyone including CoG knows what and who they are, so there’s no reason to guard the information, only to guard the Nightbloods/future hosts.

It was satisfying to see Gaia go from her attitude that every religion should be respected (which is, on one hand, nice in general in terms of tolerance, but also absurd if taken too far, like including cults, created by people who made themselves gods so they can oppress others), to being horrified by bodysnatching and the way the Primes have brainwashed an entire community to worship them and sacrifice people to them. She made the same points about the difference between the Flame and the mind drives that I talked about in my review of 6x04, including the fact that the former was created to help future generations with accumulated knowledge and advice (as it does not take over the host, who is still in control of their body), rather than to let people live forever. (Which was presumably Becca’s intention and the initial purpose for the mind drives, too – before Gabriel modified them so they could store the entire consciousness of a Prime, allowing them to live as the same person in a new body.)

But I also enjoyed Murphy’s snarky but truthful comments about the Grounder religion – the fact that they made children fight to the death for the right to become Commanders is incredibly messed up, too. And Becca was also not a god but a scientist who made herself Nightblood in the lab – although that would have been more relevant to the plot of 4x09 (where the Grounders were shocked by the „blasphemy“ of Clarke trying to pass her scientifically created Nightblood as the same thing as the Nightblood of the Commanders… which also came from a lab).

The reactions were interesting - Jordan was the voice of morality and humanity, but I think  almost everyone agreed with him, except for Murphy. He was the only one – other than Josephine – to defend the Primes and their way of life – and it kind of feels realistic that at least someone would be tempted by immortality as an option. It makes sense it’s Murphy, especially after his recent brush with death that made him think he saw what hell was like, and it also makes sense he would say that openly.

While Bellamy didn’t speak much during those scenes where the group was discussing their shocking discovery, he was, of course, agreeing with Jordan (as confirmed with his later comments to „Clarke“) – but he was, instead, focused on watching „Clarke’s“ surprising reactions. I think he was getting more and more suspicious of her throughout the episode, and since finding out about bodysnatching, he was starting to realize the horrible truth.

Let’s see how many times JC screwed up while playing Clarke:

She was uncomfortable when hugged by Madi, and then told her she can go to school, contrary to what Clarke told Madi in the previous episode. But Madi was just being a child and was happy to get what she wanted.

JC also, naturally, didn’t understand a word of what Gaia said in  Trig (to make it impossible for Jade to understand what she was saying), but she covered it reasonably well.

Saying „Chill out“ (21st century slang is not something people from the Ark are familiar with) was what caught Bellamy’s attention.

Then he asked her about her happy demeanour and the „fun“ she had with the doctor, referring to seeing her dance with Cillian at the club. Bellamy asking about these things isn’t exactly typical of him, either, but it’s interesting. He may not have even been fully aware where it came from, but to me, it sounded like he needed to know more: „So, uh, I’m glad you look happy, but is it because of the doc? Are you really into him? It’s not serious, is it? Please tell me it’s not? I’m just curious for… reasons“. But JC immediately assumed it was about sex, confirmed Clarke had sex with Cillian and was basically like „I banged him and I’m an animal in bed“. Which was one of the most non-Clarke things imaginable: talking openly about her sex life, and bragging about it, and to Bellamy of all people (the two of them have always avoided any talk about each other’s love life or sex life or each other’s love interests). But JC walked out thinking „Nailed it“!“ Bellamy seemed too busy being surprised, confused and dealing with all sorts of feelings and images in his head caused by her comment, so he probably didn’t suspect anything at this point.

JC made more blunders with Abby – including writing with her right hand, which Abby noticed; making a comment that Josephine was a „visionary“ when Abby calls her a monster, and having new knowledge that Clarke didn’t have. A lot of people are harsh on Abby because she didn’t figure it out. However, I think that’s unfair – she didn’t know about the bodysnatching, so she couldn’t put two and two together. The human mind tends to rationalize things it can’t make sense of. She was also very tired, after not having gotten any sleep (reading books from the library instead), and distracted.

Bellamy was getting suspicious when „Clarke“ argued that bodysnatching is „not murder if they go willingly“ and that the Sanctum people are not a danger to them (in spite of herself and Madi being Nightbloods). JC was at that point worried about being found out, so she made sure to take a vial of the paralyzing serum if she is found out. After she left, everyone focused on stopping Jordan from making trouble publicly, as he went to openly confront Priya.

The group talk in the bar was when I think Bellamy definitely had clear suspicions about „Clarke“. First she called Murphy „John“, which weirded out everyone, including Murphy and Jordan. But I think it was her arguments that they should just be OK with what the Primes were doing, and look away – that from „I want to save everyone“ Clarke – that sealed the deal. That and the „Eureka“ look on her face when she heard about Abby being able to make Nightbloods in the lab.

It would have been safer if Bellamy hadn’t confronted „Clarke“ on his own, but I think he desparately wanted his suspicion to not be true. He tested her with Trig – which is a good test, as it’s the one language no Sanctum person could know – and she guessed some of the meaning from the context the first time, but the second time, it was too specific even for her to figure it out (no matter how good with picking up languages she is). So JC was like, my cover is blown, why even pretend anymore, and started taunting him instead. Bellamy’s reaction, the shock and horror on his face, especially as JC confirmed her identity after paralyzing him, was heartbreaking, and made this the best scene in the episode. I cannot even imagine what reactions we’ll see from him in the following episodes. He already went through losing Clarke and believing her dead once before – but that was her heroic sacrifice. This was awful and done against her will. He is going to raise hell, and do everything to fight the Primes and get Clarke back – once he realizes that she is not completely gone.

Murphy naturally had to go along with Josephine for the time being, but is he really going to be on Josie’s side, or play a double agent and help his friends? I believe he will do the latter – he does care about Clarke, and the group, he wants to be a part of the family, and we’ve seen how much he’s changed and that he was willing to die and let the others save themselves in the season 5 finale. I think that he will be tempted for a while to accept the offer, because of his fear of death and hell, but will eventually choose his friends over immortality.

Another character who may be tempted in the next episode is Abby – as JC, pretending to be Clarke, will no doubt play on her desire to save Kane. However, that won’t work when Abby realizes that JC took Clarke’s body – and I doubt JC can keep up the ruse too long.

Many fans tend to talk about and judge Abby only in terms of her role as Clarke’s mother, but she is a character by herself, with her own trauma and issues that are not about being a mom. For the last two seasons, she has been struggling with the trauma and guilt from the Dark Year and her role in Blodreina’s rule. Her comment to Jackson, where she compared both him and herself to war criminals, made a good point: „I was just doing my job“/“I was just listening to orders“ is a poor excuse when you participate in crimes. And her desire to save Kane isn’t just because of romantic love, but also a reaction to that guilt, and on top of that, the guilt of failing Kane multiple times due to her addiction, and indirectly causing his injuries by indulging Vinson (a symbolic embodiment of her addiction and guilt over cannibalism). Kane and Abby have switched roles since season 1, and he has become her moral center. It’s because Kane’s response to feeling guilty was a healthy one: he decided to change his worldview completely and to start doing better. He tried to redeem himself through sacrifice in season 1, but he was never suicidal for the sake of it. But Abby doesn’t know how to deal with guilt, and gets crushed by it. When she feels she’s failed her own moral standards, she starts hating herself.  Her death wish at the time of Praimfaya was a result of guilt over the things she did trying to find a solution to save everyone, and her addiction in season 5 was also response to guilt. Now she’s come to the point where she thinks that she doesn’t deserve to survive, but Kane does. She’s made him a symbol of all that’s good in the world.

I’m really enjoying the scenes with Diyoza and Octavia. The two main enemies/villain leaders of season 5 are now on a rogue buddy trip. Diyoza has been amazing this season, but now I’m starting to be afraid she’s doing to die, after we get her backstory and she gives birth. And we really need to get her full backstory. She’s almost playing a mentor to Octavia now, because she had gone through similar things and understands where Octavia’s behavior comes from, maybe better than anyone else, but she’s rational and pragmatic where Octavia is impulsive and self-destructive. The different ways Diyoza and Octavia dealt with the live sand is the best example of the contrast between them. It was funny when Octavia said „At least I’m trying“ – she really didn’t get how the whole ’The harder you fight, the faster you die“ thing works! But Octavia has shown some of her old humanity, again – this time, by telling Diyoza to save herself and her baby – and, for the first time in a while, a desire to live, since she saved herself from the wave. Nothing like the danger of death to make you realize you don’t really want to die.

Interesting: the Children of Gabriel calling that live sand thing „The Crucible“ – another reference to Miller’s play (Gabriel’s favorite play! Banned by the Primes!). Do CoG identify with the unfairly accused people from that play?

Xavier’s motivations are becoming clearer – he is a rational, no-nonsense guy, just like Diyoza, and wants to get info from them rather than kill them.

I don’t know what the weird green wave is. A lot of people seem to think it has something to do with the Anomaly, but it could just be another phenomenon. I couldn’t even make out what exactly messed up thing it did to Octavia’s hand – did it age it up, suck out some of its life, or what.

Raven, Emori, Echo and Miller were MIA this episode since they were away – Ryker is showing Raven how to build a radiation shield, and the others are protecting them. Next episode, I hope to see more Emori (and Memori interaction). We know from the promo there will be Echo and Jade interaction (they could bond and compare notes on being the follower/servant who follows orders and doesn’t question them) there will also probably be more Raven and Ryker interaction; JC will try to manipulate Abby with Murphy’s help, but I doubt she’ll be able to fool her for a long time, and everyone should find out that she is not Clarke. And I’m sure we’ll learn that Clarke’s mind is really dormant rather than destroyed, and it will be interesting to see how she fights back inside her own mind and her friends and family try to save her, and hopefully kick JC’s and the Primes’ asses.

Rating: 8.5/10

[snowbellewells]

A Year in the Court of Misthaven: Part V “Becoming One”

At long last, the next addition to my “Year in the Court of Misthaven” Lieutenant Duckling series.  I’m sorry it’s taken so long, but this one really took some doing. However, I hope you will enjoy this. It’s a step out of my comfort zone, in that I attempted to write a legitimate love scene.  That said, this is probably the first piece I feel like should be rated M, so if that is a concern I wanted to let readers know up front.  (I hope it isn’t too cringe-y, but I did try my best.)  As always, this is for @kmomof4 who wanted to see more of this universe beyond the original one shot.  If nothing else, I’m hoping you’ll like it, Krystal! :) 

from the beginning of this series...

Part V: Becoming One

By: @snowbellewells

Now that their pledged troth was once again assured, Emma could happily show Killian the preparations which had been made in his absence for their wedding celebration, and begin to gain his approval, opinions, and preferences on those things and upon the details she had refrained from deciding without him. Whenever possible, Emma had sought to choose colors, food, and decor which she had believed Killian would prefer - or knew that he liked - still, now that he was at her side once more, she wanted her fiancé to have his part in the festivities and to know that how their nuptials were carried out was as much up to him as it was to her. Their wedding day was his as well after all, and she wanted her lieutenant to feel it so.

Life returned as much to normal as possible around them - at least as much as it would ever be for the Princess and sole heir of Misthaven and her intended consort. Their court physician had finally declared, not only Killian, but his brother as well, in the rehabilitative stages of their recoveries; no longer in danger of infection, further blood loss, or relapse, but instead working to regain their strength and adapt to life with the lasting ramifications of their injuries. To that end, Killian had worked with the physician, along with numerous assistants and craftsmen, to come up with some sort of prosthetic he could wear in place of his amputated hand. Though wooden models designed to look like a hand had been offered him, they had not the ability to move and grip which would be needed if he were to return to any sort of naval activities. In the end, he had settled on a sort of metal hook for everyday use which looked not much different from ones that could be found on the rigging of ships. Most of his everyday tasks could be handled better with such a utilitarian instrument, and though there was a fake hand chosen to wear at more formal occasions, learning to use the replacement which suited him best was all with which Killian, or any of those who cared about him, were concerned.

Though Killian had hand and arm exercises to perform, which could frustrate and pain him, he was as diligent in completing them as in any task he had ever undertaken. His ability to return to naval service was as yet uncertain, but if the outcome could be achieved through sheer determination and effort, he would be well on his way. Emma couldn’t help traitorously thinking to herself that his having to stay safe within their own kingdom was not such a horrible thing, but she also hated to think what it might do to her sailor’s pride, and - almost - his sense of self. She would never truly wish him to be kept away from the wind and waves he loved, only that he would always return to her hale and whole - or, better yet, that she could venture forth with him.

Liam had a longer road of recovery to tread, but the eventual outcome was also much clearer. Killian’s elder brother and Captain should, once his strength and function were restored, as they were assured would occur given proper time, be able to retake command of his vessel in her Majesty’s royal fleet.  It had been a frighteningly close call; he had lost almost more blood than any single man could spare. To Killian, who was still forced to relive the immediate aftermath in gory, vivid detail in his worst nightmares, it had seemed his brother’s very insides were littering the ship’s deck in horrifying red resplendence. In the end, however, he had not lost any major organs, nor did there seem to be evidence of permanent ill effects once he could fully recoup the weakness and blood loss.

Two of the brothers Jones’ most regular visitors continually warmed Emma’s heart with their arrival. One, of course, was Belle. The petite brunette had always been helpful and kind to Emma, able to find exactly what the Princess sought in moments when she came to the castle library on a mission, and able to keep up a candid and spritely conversation with the young royal whenever Killian, Liam, Ruby or Graham had not been available to do so. Clearly she felt a more than casual concern for Captain Jones’ recovery however, which Emma had not seen coming. Sill, the other woman was often already seated by Liam’s side when Emma and Killian reached his room in the mornings, either already reading something to him, sharing breakfast, or simply sitting with him listening to the early morning bird songs outside.

Killian had already been released to return to the apartments he and Liam had made use of since they were children, rather than having to remain in the hospital wing. Though he liked to spend as much time as possible with his brother, doubtless knowing Liam must feel anxious and useless with his forced convalescence, and Emma felt no hardship in joining him in his visits as long as she was welcome. She had found herself growing even closer to Belle in the interim.

One morning, the had even found the pensive librarian fast asleep in the overstuffed chair at Liam’s bedside, head resting on folded arms while he was awake, hand raised as if almost ready to brush it over her rich, mahogany tresses when they had made their entrance just before his breakfast tray. Liam’s hand had pulled back so quickly Emma had needed to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing both at the motion and his flushed, sheepish expression as well. Belle, however, had not roused, and the elder Jones brother’s gentle, rapt glances over at her whenever he thought they wouldn’t notice were pathetically obvious and endearing. 

Emma hadn’t stayed long that morning, meandering down to where her mother and Ruby sat in the sunroom making plans for ceremony and reception color schemes, flower arrangements, and seating. She knew that it would already feel crowded in the room if Killian tried to genuinely speak with his elder sibling as he needed to, and she also knew Belle well enough to not wish the other woman rapidly becoming more friend than pleasant acquaintance to be distressed by waking to find herself ‘asleep at her post’ or caught ‘neglecting her duty’ or whatever ridiculous notion the conscientious brunette would concoct. Giving Liam a truly happy smile and bending to kiss her fiancé’s cheek where he had settled at his brother’s opposite elbow, she had slipped from the room with a promise to return within the hour.

The second heartwarming recurrent guest, the one who made Emma’s chest swell almost beyond what she could stand without bursting, was her own father, King David. From the moment of their return, the man had been anxious to be apprised of both Jones brothers’ conditions and progress, anxiously questioning doctors, nurses, and even household staff when he could not visit the castle’s sick wing in person. Emma knew part of it was concern for her - her father not wanting his beloved daughter to suffer the loss of her partner and chosen mate, it went beyond that as well, to a depth that reminds her once again just what a good heart this man - once a shepherd whom True Love made a King - possesses and makes her adore her papa even more than she always has. He and her mother took these two orphan brothers in, raised them as their own, and their reaching adulthood has not made the crown regents any less attached to or concerned for their charges.

Though he does not tend to linger, probably sensing that both young men wish to be back at their duties onboard ship and do not wish for their monarch to see them as weak, the King is also more than obviously making his support and concern known. The two boys he raised alongside his precious daughter, whom he has watched grow into brave, honorable young men proudly serving his wife’s kingdom, hold a special place in David’s heart - as an adoptive father… and as a soon-to-be father-in-law. He will be certain that they both receive the very best care which can be provided, and clearly wishes to see Killian and Liam improving daily. She has always been her father’s darling, and daddy’s girl down to her bones, but if possible, his care for her fiancé and his brother made Emma adore her papa even more.

Slowly but surely first Killian, and then eventually Liam as well, began to venture from the recovery wing and back into as much of their daily lives as possible. Emma thrilled with any little jaunt Killian made alongside her, whether it be to the kitchens to test the batter for various cakes Granny Lucas was testing for their wedding reception, venturing to their secret garden arbor overlooking the sea, or even down at the docks where he laughingly started teaching her to fish. Though it might take him longer than before to accomplish some tasks with one hand, he was coping, and it did Emma’s heart good to see.

Unfortunately, she could also see quite well that the missing hand and the arm left behind still pained him, much as he might try to hide it or to appear as if everything was fine. At times sharp twinges seemed to strike him unawares, and he would wince or jerk in reaction before schooling his features to hide it. Emma in turn, could not help but to reach for him, wanting to soothe the ache, to offer comfort, to do anything to help. Despite the discomfort or distress he might be in however, Killian would not suffer her to touch the truncated limb, nor to see it without the brace that covered the amputation site. Though he had thankfully stopped trying to convince her to move on from him or that they should no longer marry, it would take a fool not to see that he still feared the full extent of his mutilation would disgust her or finally cause her to turn her back.

Nothing could be further from the truth; yet, Emma didn’t wish to push her lieutenant too hard or too far. He had been through a horrific trauma, one that - as much as she might wish to aid or lessen - he must deal with in his own way. When his pained reactions occurred she bit her lip firmly, forcibly holding back either comforting platitudes or questions about what troubled him. She genuinely attempted to allow him the moments which fooled no one to school his infinitely expressive features and pull the mask back into place as though nothing were wrong. The tautness of his voice betraying pain and tension despite his projected nonchalance nearly made her heart crack and brought tears to her eyes, but she always found the strength to hold them back, if only to stay near him and to perhaps distract her sailor from the torment he suffered in silence.

Early evening on the day before their wedding at last, they had been fishing at the docks and were walking back to the palace over the weathered wooden planks of the dock, a small bucket of their day’s catch over his whole arm, and her small, delicate hand tucked into his other elbow as he led her gallantly home for the night, when she noticed him shifting uncomfortably, his lips pressed together tightly against any sound. To some it might seem peculiar to go fishing on the eve of their nuptials, but both were anxious in their own ways, and being together, doing something simple and familiar was the best pastime for them it seemed. All was ready, prepared, not a single loose end left to be tied, and so they had slipped off to the waterfront.

“What is it?” Emma asked gently, worry creasing her brow in concern as she looked up into her beloved’s face; his dark brows pulled low over eyes scrunched near closed in intense pain, his shoulders hunching slightly in spite of his best efforts, and the truncated limb pulling in toward his torso unconsciously, even with her fingers still resting upon it. 

Killian shook his head at her question, almost as though he had not the breath to speak as much as he wished to avoid giving straight answer. He moved them forward several more steps, before a low grunt of misery escaped under his breath, and he tripped slightly in his next step.

Her concern had not abated since her question went unanswered, and Emma was immediately anxious for him once more as he faltered. Not brooking any sort of opposition, she pulled him to the side of the path by his good hand, taking the basket from him first. Once off the walk and out of the way and attention of passerby, Emma pressed Killian onto a bench placed along the way, and knelt before him, peering up into his face with an intent scrutiny he couldn’t avoid.  “It’s your arm, isn’t it?” she murmured sadly, already well aware she was right. “What can I do?”

She waited, hoping that he would not dismiss her concern, put up a front and pretend all was well when that clearly was not the truth. Her breath nearly caught in her throat, choking her on a gasp when he surprised her by meeting her gaze head on and answering with honest vulnerability. 

His voice was a pant as he doubled over slightly in the seat, the blue of his eyes slightly diluted by tears she saw gathered but which he refused to let fall. “Aye, phantom pain…” he hissed, the words choppy as he forced them out. “The doc warned me about it...feels as though my hand...though it’s not even there...is burning.”

The explanation was simple and blunt, but Emma could easily sense the agony unspoken behind her sailor’s mere words.  “It’s going to be alright, Killian,” she promised, forcing herself to project a calm she didn’t feel in hopes of helping him. “I can’t imagine what it feels like. I won’t pretend I can.  But you are going to be alright.”

He nodded bleakly at her words, clearly using all his might to hold back a tormented sob.

Pressing on, Emma raised herself up just enough to rest her forehead against his, hoping to gently offer the contact and lead his breathing to slowly match her own at such close proximity. One hand slipped beneath the collar of his button-down shirt to rest over his heart, ignoring the way her own pulse stuttered and then tripled in speed at the feel of warm skin and coarsely curling hair across his chest, and instead further urging him to draw deep, steadying breaths. “Please, Killian, tell me what I can do to make it better.”

He knew exactly what would help, had done it in his solitary chambers on many an occasion though he had never been willing to allow any other to perform the task or even see his stump uncovered as such action necessitated. He did not intend to have his beautiful princess, his own pure paragon of perfection, be the first, though he had to grit his teeth to keep from telling her what would bring him ease. However, one glance at her determined and beseeching expression and how close she was, as if trying to read his face through sheer proximity, also alerted him to the fact that his princess would not be easily denied.

Brokenly, he finally answered in hoarse tones, “Sometimes...if I uncover it...and massage the stump...working those muscles can relieve some of the pain...but you don’t…” Already shaking his head, he began to pull away from her in hopes of dissuading her suddenly tenacious hands as she ran them up his arms to his shoulders, dexterous fingers slipping beneath the collar to seek out the straps and buckles holding the molded leather sheath over his blunted forearm.

Killian tried once more to protest, desperation rising within him as he felt exposed, out in the open, and more and more certain with each rapid heartbeat that once she truly saw the extent of the carnage, what - to him - seemed the mangled stump of flesh where once his other hand and wrist had been, that she would at last understand his fear and be disgusted enough to indeed pull away, leaving him wrecked and ruined. “Please, Emma…” he pled futilely, knowing it was no use, that there was no changing her mind once that particular furrow of determination settled upon her brow. “There’s no need, Lass. You shouldn’t have to see… Once I’m back in my room, I can…”

But his Princess was having none of it, shaking her head in denial of his excuses and pressing on, until he felt her unhook the buckle which held the entire contraption upon his shoulder. The release of pressure in itself was enough to ease some of the throbbing  that radiated up and down his arm, even as it caused him to suck in a tight breath, feeling his doom about to unfold as hook and brace fell away into her careful hands before she gently set them aside next to him on the bench.

Her next move though, startled him enough to snap him from his dread and terror and transfix him, unmoving and completely attuned to her will. Even as her hands moved back to the end of his shortened forearm, wrapping with a soothing, gentle warmth over the scarred pink flesh, her eyes never fell to take it in; her gaze remained firmly and completely locked on his, promising that she was right there and that she would never leave. With a firm, but still tender, grip, Emma began to knead his stump expertly. Her face never changing to register disgust or regret, only that loving concern which had always been there any time he was hurting or troubled since he was seven years old and her father had brought he and Liam home. Her touch seemed so helpful and so assured in fact that he wondered if she had not researched different massage techniques or questioned the doctors and nurses at her family’s beck and call, in order to be ready if she might be able to help him.  And he was then hit by the obvious realization that of course that was exactly what she had done. Why would he have expected anything else?

Ever so slowly, though he knew in truth it had been mere minutes, the pain ebbed at her calm, sure ministrations. Looking up at his lovely princess in wonder, Killian drew a ragged breath, hardly able to believe her goodness and devotion as the panic and fear receded.  “You truly are a marvel, my Love,” he murmured, stunned voice soft and affectionate.

Emma shook her head slightly, a teary, lopsided smile lighting her face as she responded, “Did you really think I’d let you suffer if it were in my power to help you?”  Her dainty hands still smoothed over his tormented flesh, easing him as she continued.

Several more minutes passed with them simply gazing into each other’s eyes, then gently the princess’ fingers trailed down to clasp her lieutenant’s other hand and to brace on her knees and stand. Pulling lightly, she urged him up after her. Wordlessly she turned back toward the palace once more, and Killian followed with their fingers intertwined, without hesitation.

Though wondering what his headstrong beloved had in mind, Killian didn���t question, merely walked behind her as they entered the courtyard and slipped through the entry hall. For a moment he thought Emma might be taking him to Doc, but as they began to climb the grand staircase, the idea was discarded. No one stopped them, even as they made their way along the second floor toward her apartments. Neither of them spoke, but then, Killian was not sure he would be able to anyway. He had just decided that she must be seeing him safely to his own room, wanting to be certain he was well and able to rest, when she pulled him to the right, drawing even closer to the royal family’s private wing, before leading clearly to her own apartments. The realization struck him, and his mouth went dry while his heart began to pound.

At last they stood outside her bedroom door, still silent in the gathering dusk, and Emma turned to look up at him, her beguilingly dark lashes fluttering over the transfixing green of her eyes and drawing him closer rather than taking his leave as he knew he should.

“Come in with me, Lieutenant?” she asked, biting her lower lip in playful query as she gazed into his startled face, unable to agree to something which might attach scandal to his intended bride just a day before the wedding, but equally unable to deny her. As if sensing his indecision, Emma ran her nimble fingers under the loose sleeve of his shirt, ghosting over still raised and somewhat tender scars and knowingly traced her pretty pink tongue over her upper lip in anticipation, pressing her advantage. “If you would, I could take good care of you…”

Though he knew that claim was large made of need and bravado, having only their own curious forays together to guide them, in that moment, Emma was a temptress Killian could hardly resist. He practically trembled as she continued to run her fingertips over the skin of his maimed forearm, jaw clenched so tightly to hold himself still that a muscle visibly worked in his cheek.

Emma raised her other hand to cup his cheek soothingly at the sight. Her heart stuttered to think that she might have caused him more pain and distress, or… was she wrong?  Did he no longer want her?

He didn’t allow that thought to linger, instead startling her when he shook his head in frustration and backed away from her, dislodging her delicate touch and desperately searching her eyes with his own. “W-what are you doing t-to me, Emma?  We can’t…” His chest heaved, and Killian downed a lungful of air before he could continue. “Stars above, do I want to… but you should take tonight… now that… now that you’ve really s-seen the damage… and be certain you don’t… want to back out while you still can?” His face fell to study the rich carpet at their feet with those words and the next were nearly inaudible when he added, “I would understand if you did.”

However, it is that declaration which galvanized Emma to action. Not allowing her face to fall with the return of his fear that her love could be so fickle, and without another moment’s hesitation, seeing clearly that it was not an issue of wish or desire, but that her brave, beautiful lieutenant was still trying to look out for her, at the expense of his own heart, she drew near to face him once again. He still feared her feeling trapped in their union, that she could not still want to bind herself to him, but in truth there was nothing she could want more. If she couldn’t convince him with sweet reassurance and heartfelt vows, then she would show him in a way that was impossible to doubt.

Killian was thrown slightly off balance by the way Emma suddenly latched onto his good arm and pulled him into her chambers, quickly closing the door behind them before they were seen, and then pressing him against it with her own body as she delved her hands into his dark, messy hair and kissed him for all she was worth. Still more than a bit disoriented, and not at all certain how to respond to her onslaught turning his body traitor to his mind, Killian was struggling to right himself, and mentally fighting not to surge forward and take over the kiss, spinning them to press her against the door and ravish her as she seemed to be demanding.

Neither of them had any wealth of experience beyond what they had explored with each other, and yet, as the emotion that had always been present between them swelled and began to guide them, hesitance and insecurity melted away. Now fully kissing his princess back, Killian just managed not to carry her across the room and press her to her mattress - but only just. Instead, his arms rose, meaning to cradle her precious face as he continued worshipfully drinking from her lips. His right hand did just that, calloused thumb stroking over her soft, porcelain cheek. Unfortunately, he caught sight of his blunted left arm and the mass of scars covering it as it rose to her face as well, and he jerked it back instinctively, hating the vision of it against such pale perfection. 

Emma felt him flinch away, even as he tried to steady himself and continue kissing her. The catch in his throat and the tremble she felt where she clutched his shoulders gave him away, no matter how little he might want pity.

“Killian,” she murmured, her lips still brushing his, soft as rose petals and full of the solace only she can give. “What is it?”

He shook his head, having already tried to explain it to her, and knowing she would only argue with his fear now, even if it proved true once she genuinely looked at the ravages to his body bared before her eyes. Squeezing his own shut to avoid her searching green gaze, Killian instead rested his forehead against her own, drawing in her sweet scent and trying valiantly to memorize every detail in what he is sure might be the last time he was ever able to hold her so close.

As if needing nothing further to read his mind, understanding dawned on Emma as she took in her sailor before her. Taking a definite step back, she reached for his hook and its brace where it had fallen to the floor at their feet. Upon her picking it up and pushing it into his grasp, the air left his lungs in a rush; he was sure she had now awoken from her blindness and was about to send him away as he had feared. But then Emma, his stunning princess, caught him by surprise once more.

With only the barest of whispers to break the charged silence between them, she guided his arm across the space between them to place the sharpened metal point of the hook at the edge of her gown’s bodice, before biting her lip and looking up at him through her lashes with determined and sultry fervence. “Go ahead, rip it,” she commanded hoarsely, only the barest quaver to the words. “I want you to… and I need you to believe me.”

In truth, one hard downward swipe would slice through the material that covered her swiftly rising and falling chest, baring Emma completely to his eyes for the first time, but Killian had to stop himself, had to bring this back under control. It was folly, and could ruin her if anyone found out, even if they were to be married on the morrow. And not only that, he shook his head and blinked rapidly in an effort to clear the haze of lust her actions had brought before his eyes, beyond that, he had meant to release her, not make her more inclined to coddle him than ever. 

When she saw that even with this further incentive Killian intended to balk, to cling to his blasted honor while it tore him apart, a spark of fiery ardor kindled in Emma’s green gaze, not giving up in her mission for even a second; instead, he had merely pushed her to retain the lead. “Killian,” she spoke again, her voice passionate and sincere as she took his chin between her fingers and forced his eyes to meet her own crackling with resolve. “I mean it. I want every part of you… Just you. No one else.  That hasn’t changed… and it’s never going to.”  

Wrapping both her small hands around his one holding the hook, she pushed downward in guidance until, with a sharp tear, the fabric gave and soon the rip sliced down the center until her dress fell open and Emma stepped from the folds of fabric to stand before her slack-jawed lieutenant. His eyes were round with wonder as he reached forward and then pulled back, as if aching to touch her with all the reverence and love she could read on his face, and yet, at the same time not quite sure he should truly be allowed to do so.

For the first time, the certainty on Emma’s face wavered, and a slight tremor ran through her limbs as her intended continued to stare in appreciation but made no movement forward. It was all she could do not to cross her arms protectively over herself, but her resolution held her fast as she urged once more. “Touch me, Killian. Please…”

This time the gentle plea in her sweet, beloved voice seemed to press Killian forward, finally breaking him free of the hesitance which had held him back and allowing him to close the distance between he and his princess until they were practically nose to nose. With the most tender gesture it seemed she had ever felt, Emma’s breath caught as he brought the gleaming curve of his metal appendage up to lightly brush a blond strand of her hair over her shoulder adeptly, and then ran the steely edge down her neck, out along her shoulder, and then over the outer curve of her breast and along her side to pause at her waist. It was now his chest rising and falling rapidly with the speed of his breath as his eyes followed the same paths along her body, seemingly heating her skin with his gaze as he did so. 

“You’re so beautiful…” he rasped, his voice a raw husk of its usual timbre. For a moment, they merely gazed at one another, finally seeming in perfect accord, each loving the other so much no flaws or scars merited notice. Then, as if afraid to break the spell, but having to move, Emma raised one hand to brush her fingertips along that same long-healed scratch high on his cheek; a move of affection to ground herself in the familiar before venturing on.

“So are you,” she whispered sweetly, meaning every word and marvelling at how with those long, dark lashes mirroring the light blue, his strong jaw and the tilt upward of his soft, full lips, how he could ever doubt it. Letting her hand trail down the side of his face to his chest, the other one joined it, soon pushing his jacket from his shoulders to the floor and then going to work on the buttons of the loose-bloused shirt beneath.

Killian seemed to have finally given himself over to her will and the heat of the moment, merely shuddering at the sensation of her hands darting within the shirt once opened, skimming over his ribs and the quivering muscles of his stomach before shoving it from his arms and letting it fall to the floor atop the crumpled jacket.

Before he could protest or pull back within himself once more, Emma quickly grasped her sailor’s shortened arm, still reddened from the brace, but healed over and, to her, no deterrent in the slightest. Bending her head, she pressed her lips to the scarred flesh, lingering in what she could only hope might be a soothing kiss, holding his arm close, caressing the skin and cradling it to her chest.

A sort of half-whine escaped his throat, and then, as if the last of his restraint had at last been shattered, he surged forward, mouth claiming Emma’s and taking her over, just as she had hoped. Mindlessly, he was moving her backwards toward her fine canopy bed and leaning over her as her knees hit the mattress and they both sank down upon its soft surface. 

Soon his firm, well-muscled legs were pressing against her own bare thighs, the pleasant weight of him hovering over her enticing, but also using just enough care not to crush her or squash the air from her lungs. His hand and left elbow were bracketing her shoulders, only awkward for a moment at the slightly unbalanced length of his arms before her clever lieutenant adapted and dove back in for another breath-taking kiss Emma could hardly match. Her heart beat wildly, near frantic in its exaltation as he continued to drink from her lips like a man who had been dying of thirst finally led to water.

Raising up only slightly, then sitting back on his haunches to study her, there was a darkening hunger in Killian’s eyes that she had never seen before. “So beautiful, my Love,” he whispered, bringing his hand to the side of her face, where she caught it in her own to hold close. Then he was bringing his bare forearm down her other side, taking a slow, leisurely path all the way from her neck to her hips, tingling flame and electricity skittering through her pores as he continued. It felt as though her brain was misfiring, unable to truly process all the sensations he was creating within her. He paused only slightly before his hand began to inch from her waist, where his scarred forearm remained steadingly reassuring her, over to her inner thigh and up toward her center, where she was practically trembling, vibrating for him, and for what came next.

Still, he waited, gaining her full and coherent attention before ascertaining once more, “Are you certain, Emma? Is this truly what you want?”

In spite of how badly she needed his long, graceful fingers to continue their quest, she was also practically clenching her thighs as much as possible against the desire running through her, merely to keep herself from flying into a million pieces. She nodded vehemently, trying to convey how much she wanted even though no words would come. “Yes… please…” she finally managed to grit out. “I c-can’t stand it if you s-stop now…”

Killian’s eyes seemed to light with an almost devious twinkle behind the way they had darkened to midnight hue. When his tongue darted out to swipe along his lower lip, his eyes leaving her face to watch where his fingers ghosted over tender skin, previously unseen by any other, her stomach lurched in a way that was intense, rattling, but not unpleasant. She felt moisture seep from between her legs, where his pointer and middle fingers were now deftly playing, tracing along her opening and dipping within in a touch that made her legs tremble, and her hips rise to him in supplication, whining fruitlessly for more as he looked both intent in his foray, focused on eliciting yet more sounds and feelings from her, and curious, as if she were a riddle laid out before him that he hoped to study from every angle and master completely.

Soon both those probing fingers were inside her, stroking so that Emma was now writhing beneath him, pressing her lips together to hold back more pitiful begging sounds than she had already let escape as she thrashed her head from side to side on the pillow.

Stilling his ministrations, Killian leaned down once more to press a kiss to her chin, her mouth, her forehead. “Please,” he whispered in her ear, before rising once again to watch his digits resume their rhythm along her inner walls as if entranced. “Don’t hold back any sound you want to make. I wish to know what pleases you.” 

Emma’s hands had fisted in her sheets in desperation as he ceased his deft swipes and brushes, but when he upped the speed of his strokes, pulling his fingers nearly from her completely then back in, his stump all along stroking over her hipbone as if to soothe and keep her in place all at the same time, Emma’s hips began to move in response, trying to meet a thrust that wasn’t truly present yet, but that her body instinctively knew, as old as life itself. When Killian’s thumb at last joined in, pressing effectively against the small spot that made light and color burst behind her eyelids, Emma couldn’t stop the cry that tore from her throat as her entire body from fingertips to the ends of her hair to her very toenails seemed to seize in euphoria, crest and then burst. She went limp on the bed, shivering in the aftermath. It was like he’d had one of his beloved maps, she marveled, half consciously, only to guide him over her body instead of across waves. She didn’t know how Killian had done it so easily, but she was little more than a melted puddle in his hands.

“Alright there, Princess?” he asked, voice somewhat strained, but a tinge of pleased humor present as well. 

This time, words did escape her. Emma merely cracked one eye open enough to regard him dreamily and hum as she attempted to brush one hand along his arm before it fell back to the bed.

“Hmm…” his deep voice hummed low enough to almost be to himself. “Good to know.”

Emma watched for a moment, appreciating the sparkling affection in his once more light, sea-blue eyes, the shock of dark hair that had fallen over his brow, the way his tempting, hair-covered chest heaved almost as much as her own, and the tight set of his sharply cut jaw. She loved him so much, and he had just made her feel so good - better than she had known she could feel - and she wanted to tell him so, wanted to make him feel the same, if only she could bring all her limbs back under her command and string a full sentence together.

Her eyes fell to his quivering stomach muscles, and then to where a thick bulge stood out within the breeches which still covered his lower half. Sense returned enough to her to realize that of course he had not yet reached the heights he had just made her ascend. They had yet to find completion together, and she reached forward with as much curiosity as he had earlier, and begin to work clumsily with the unfamiliar fastenings of his waistband.

Of course, her faithful, honorable betrothed had seen to her pleasure first, but she did not intend to leave Killian wanting - not after the satisfaction he had gifted her. And she wished to finally be joined with him fully and completely, in every way possible.

Killian’s larger, surer hands quickly covered hers and rapidly undid the buttons she had fumbled with, shimmying the pants over his hips and divesting himself of them entirely with a flick of his foot. Emma almost giggled aloud, regardless of what they had already done, at the image of his last article of clothing flying through the air to land haphazardly on her floor. However, the sight of her fiancé, her love, bared before her, nothing hiding any part of him, stilled the breath in her throat and the laughter on her tongue.

Just as he was in every other way, Killian uncovered was magnificent. True, she was also a bit intimidated, not sure now how the member she saw would fit where his fingers had so deliciously only a short time ago. Yet, though she swallowed hard, feeling her pulse pound a bit more erratically, she also trusted this man she knew as well as she knew herself. He would never hurt her, would sooner die himself than see her harmed. And she could see the straining state he was in and knew had to be painful. She no sooner wanted to him hurt than he did her. He had given her such gratification, could she not do the same for him?  Despite her trepidation and uncertainty, she also wanted to know, craved that connection with him, that final bond they had yet to experience.

Her eyes drifted up from his rigid manhood, following the trail of thick dark hair up his lean torso to the darkly curling thatch covering his well-formed chest. She caressed his toned shoulders and arms with her gaze, having a hard time not rising to meet him, wrapping her arms and legs around him and never letting him go.

She found that her voice had deserted her altogether, but she beckoned him to her once more. This time as Killian swept in to kiss her ardently, tongue stealing forth to duel with her own, she noticed the quivering in his arms, the exertion showing on his face along with his love and devotion. He was holding himself back, but it was nearly all he could do. Making up her mind, Emma craned her neck slightly to catch his stare once more. When she was certain he read her resolve, her decision, and her heart’s desire clearly, she spoke at last. “Go on, Killian. I’m ready…. I - I want to be yours. You told me not to hold back, but you needn’t do so either. I belong to you…. now and forever.”

The sound that escaped him then was almost a growl, plunging back in with teeth and tongue to kiss her more fervently than ever. It seemed his hand and his stump were everywhere, no longer holding back in the slightest. Something about the stiff propriety to which he held himself loosening at last, took away the bit of breath she had regained.

In the next moment, Killian had rolled them so they faced each other on their sides. His eyes darkened to a deep cobalt again with desire as they searched for just a second before trailing nips and licks along her neck and across her collarbones, even as his shortened arm drew her leg up to rest it over his hip, opening her to him intimately. Pausing only briefly, Emma’s heart pounded at the way he whispered against her ear. “I’ll try to make this as good as I can for you, my Love. There may be pain for a bit, I’m told. Just hang onto me, aye?”

Emma nodded wordlessly, already clinging to him tightly as he shuffled just a moment to get them in place. She felt him at her entrance only briefly and then he thrust home, making everything else center at that point inside her until nothing seemed to exist beyond where they met. She felt stretched, filled, and there was a sharp pain against which she bit her lip and tried to hold back a few rogue tears.

Killian of course, ever watching her and seeing to her comfort, was already brushing his lips across her face, murmuring assurances, apologies, and kissing away those tears, even as he began to move in a steady, rolling pace that he couldn’t hold back any longer. Even as she winced slightly, anxious to adjust, Emma also felt something building beyond the initial discomfort. Warmth and sensation swelled and grew, pleasure vibrating within as Killian stroked places inside she hadn’t even known to exist.

Soon she was gripping him so tightly she knew her nails must be leaving indents on his flesh, moans and pleas for more mixed with his name falling from her mouth in shameless desperation. By the time the center of pleasure pulsed and burst rattling her to her core until she fell boneless from the heights, her eyes were squeezed closed and she was gasping for breath as Killian stilled his rocking motion, trembling in her loose-armed embrace as he found his own release.

As spent as he was, Killan still had the thought to gather her close as they both regained their breath, bundling her against his chest and nuzzling his nose against her earlobe. “Are you… alright, Emma?” he questioned earnestly.

She nodded, interlocking her fingers with his where his good arm rested beneath her. “I am. Very much so,” she assured him breathily. Snuggling closer still, their legs entwined, the sheet just barely pulled up to their waists, Emma stroked her fingers along his forearm, revelling in the intense connection she felt after what they’d just shared.

Probably she should urge him to catch his breath, then be up and back to his own rooms until the morning. Yet, she did no such thing. When Killian’s breathing evened out and his eyes slid closed, she studied his gentle, handsome face in sleep, his worries about their end finally defeated. Tracing a hand over his brow, she closed her own eyes too.  When slumber came to her as well, Emma’s last thought was that she didn’t want to spend even one more night without him. Tomorrow they would be man and wife, but they had already become one.

Tagging a few others who may enjoy: @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @laschatzi @effulgentcolors @let-it-raines @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jennjenn615 @bmbbcs4evr @blackwidownat2814 @gingerchangeling @branlovestowrite