#price leading a girl around like a horse MY BELOVED

[silkenwinger]

been grappling with themes of destiny and inevitability. and by that I mean I've been thinking about price seeing you at the base's desk and deciding he's going to make you his, some way or another.

only thing is... you can be quite. uhm. unaware? oblivious? whenever he compliments you you just think he's being nice, because you don't read any real slimy intentions. you just don't register any of his attempts as real romantic approaches. you think he does it to every woman working at the desk. not quite.

price's only slightly miffed you've been dodging his advances. you don't look annoyed with him, more like you think he's just playing the flirt. a nice girl, that you are. trusting. not accustomed to men buzzing around you, the dogs on base barely fit for hard labor, much less fit for such a sweet thing. that's why he needs to revise your marital status.

you're there replying to an email when you see the captain approach your front desk. you smile at him, folding your manicured hands in front of you. he looks particularly dashing today! he's even shortened his chops.

"good morning, capt-"

"tomorrow night, 7 pm at da vincenzo's. would you like to have dinner with me?"

your mouth falls, a bit uncouthly. if you were less taken by surprise, you'd actually see the slightest upward tick of his mouth. Price takes pride in controlling his emotions as much as possible, but it doesn't necessarily translates into approaching a woman he's interested in.

"e-excuse me?"

"I asked you if you'd like to have dinner with me," he simply repeats, like he's asking you to take a call for him.

your gel nails make a crisp sound on the table as you tap your fingers on the table. then, you swallow.

so that's how you find yourself the next day sitting at the italian restaurant, nice dress and all. you still think you're being pranked and the camera are going to reveal themselves any moment now, but nothing of the sorts happens...

john leads you around in circles. he discovers much he didn't know about you from previous conversations. your attempts at asking him things get gently disregarded. redirected. he tells you a bit about his family and where he was raised, but reveals little about his future aspirations.

when you're leading him to your bedroom that night, after a drink on your couch, you shyly reveal you're not really used to this kind of thing, nervous giggle and all. he just smiles and keeps lightly pushing at your lower back.

after, you're moaning in your pillow, pleasure almost bursting from your seams, as john fucks you to tears. you feel a big hand clutching yours, hot fingers encompassing it all. a vague tickling sensation at your nape, almost going undetected through the waves of heat.

"could have told you we would end like this, sweetheart," he grunts in your ear, voice pleasantly rugged, "and don't you think you're getting rid of me."

he molds you into his one true perfect girl. you already were, to be fair. you just needed to be his. that was it, his future aspiration: combining will and fate.

[oof-another-writeblr]

A Wish

Tonight I was hit with the inspiration to finaly write a peice of flash fiction I had the idea for like two years ago.

Across the mountains, within the forest of the fae that no man leaves, there is a pond. A pond as black as night, and still a death. But, within that dark abys the Moon Queen dwells; the great fairy that shall grant the wish of any that would find her – for a price. And yet, no man has left that forest… So, the story is told.

The forest did not have a beginning, no dark line of trees that blotted out the sun, rather it crept up on you. A grassy plain faded into sparce woodland, trees encroaching on one another one by one… until the sky was gone below a canopy of oak.

The Queen first noticed the chill in the air as the darkness of the forest enveloped her, like a cold, unwanted kiss. She stroked the neck of her horse, taking comfort in its oblivious mind and soft brown hide.

Without the sun, she could neither navigate or gauge the passage of time, and so took to marking the directions of trees and their branches, so as to track her direction and remain straight on her path – lest she be lead from its centre and taken for her hubris effort.

Gnarled roots and trunks thicker than ten men standing abreast began to fill the young Queen’s path, and soon her great stead could go no further. Not knowing when she might return from her quest, she took what supplies she could carry, and sent the horse back towards the plains below the mountain – if not into the care of the fae.

For three days and three nights the young Queen walked onward, pausing only when the dark grew too deep; being sure to always mark an arrow into the soft earth to guide her way at light.

As the final drops of water fell onto her tongue from the large canteen, between the rustling in the branches above she heard the faint movement of water. She climbed over the ancient, stretching root that blocked her way, and spied a shallow pool weeping from the base of the tree. The water was clear, and filtered into the air through soft sand, thirst tugged at her throat. Yet the Queen knew better than to drink water from the forest of the fae. She dropped down from the root on the edge of the pool, she saw a narrow stream that snaked its way along the roots and seemed to be following her path. With a final look into the glistening water, she swallowed down the spit in her throat and followed the glistening ribbon. Be it trick or sign, the water must lead somewhere, she thought.

The fourth night ebbed ever near, and soon the trickle of the stream, and the pebbles under her foot where the only guides to the Queen’s journey.

Her legs ached, her throat burned and belly twisted with hunger but on she went – for she had been through worse for less reward.

It was the glint of a star that caught her eye. Through a void in the black canopy above. Another. Then another. The great oaks grew less thick, their branches splaying open to the sky and their Moon. They seemed to part like soldiers, allowing her to enter the court of the Moon Queen.

Within the centre of the clearing, a dark pool lay. No reflection of the pale moon that hung in the sky above it, or the trees that reached up to meet the twinkling stars. Only the stream, slow as a dying breath, trickled into the water, with no wakes in its entrance.

The young Queen walked to the waters edge, calling out,

“I seek an audience with the Moon Queen. I am Queen of the kingdom across the mountains to the west.” She stepped back from the pond and waited.

As if a stone had fallen, unseen, a rippled moved from its centre, slow and rich like spilled wine. The ripples grew, crashing against one another as the water split and light as pale as moonlight shone fourth. From this light, a figure formed. A woman as tall as the great oaks that surrounded them and garbed in robes of starlight.

“You have done well, young Queen.” the Moon Queen’s voice flowed like nectar, “I have not been called upon for many years… but not for want of trying. I see all those who enter my kingdom.

“I thank you, great Moon Queen.” the young Queen said, kneeling in reverence.

“So, what is it you seek, little Queen.” the fairy asked, stepping from the pool to the bank, looming above the woman garbed in silver armour. The young Queen drew her gaze up and met the great fairy before her,

“I wish, for you to make me a king.”

A laugh broke shattered the silence of the night. “A King?” the fairy asked, “You are so fair, so strong, beloved by all, you could have pick of any man in the world… and yet you come to me seeking a man to marry?” She laughed again, turning as her pearlescent smile outshone the moon above.

“No.” The young Queen said, venom in her mouth, “I wish for you to make me, myself, I,” she thumped her chest, her gauntlet clanging against steal plated heart, “… a man.” The great fairy turned her gaze back down towards her, brows crossed but no malice upon her moon-shaped face.

“Why?” In one, elegant movement, the fairy Queen laid on the edge of her pond, and the young queen stood to face her question.

“I do not want to be a woman.”

“Why?” she asked again, “I see all that happens beyond this land, you are as strong, as brave, as smart as any man. You have proven your greatness as a warrior, as a leader, as a Queen time and time again.”

“I know this. I have spent my entire life chasing strength. Changing by force and will the thoughts of those around me, the opinions of my subjects and those beyond my land and rule. Proving myself, proving women, to be as strong and as worthy as men.”

“Then why do you seek to betray that truth you worked so hard to teach?”

“I betray no one but myself in denying my own truth.”

You betray your family, your subjects… every little girl who has ever looked up to you and known that she can be strong too.” The young Queen shook her head,

“Would that too not be betrayed if I took my life?”

“Do you think that threat will sway me?” the Moon Queen scoffed,

“I do not, as it is not a threat… it is an inevitability of my misery.” The Moon Queen grew quiet at this and looked up toward her second face.

“You did well in reaching me, I shall grant you your wish, little Queen… But pray tell, what toll shall be paid. For I do not give my wished freely.”

“My throne, my kingdom, I renounce it to my sister.”

“Your sister?”

“Yes, I have taught her well. She is as fair, true and great as I… she will be a greater queen than I, no doubt or shame to cloud her mind. Does that settle your fear for the women and girls of my kingdom?” the young Queen asked, supressing her bile. The fairy nodded, slowly, and reached out to brush her finger, as long and wide as a man’s leg, across the young Queen’s face, and said in that voice like nectar,

“I grant you this wish, little King.”

It is said no man has left the forest of the Moon Queen… no man but one, so the story told.

[agentrouka-blog]

"Show yourself!” Lyanna Stark and her three Elsa Starks.

My son has been enjoying Frozen II every once in a while lately, while he’s doing his three-year-old part to containing the pandemic by staying home, and “Show yourself” is really a heart-stopping piece of music. Gorgeous. The way it builds and what it is about. And it gives me massive ASOIAF feels.

This seems a bit silly, but I have yet to come upon a song that as perfectly captures the emotional relevance of the revelation of Lyanna Stark as Jon’s mother, the relevance for all the remaining Starks. The fit of the emotional arc is amazing. Basically, if you want to feel what GRRM wants us to feel about Lyanna Stark, watch “Show yourself”. 

I’m going into self-indulgent detail About how Frozen II relates to them, and what Lyanna means to Bran, Arya, Sansa and Jon, below the cut.

So, Frozen is a pretty universal story that also applies to ASOIAF. 

The figure of the “always different” special child, estranged from others, who has battled to fit themselves into the world around them and now stands on the precipice of an existential challenge - that applies to all the surviving Stark children. They are all Elsa. They all vitaly need the confrontation with the hidden voice calling them (mother Iduna = Lyanna) in order to reach a balance, to achieve harmony in their world, to enable their non-magical inner Anna to reign in a living world rather than perish, abandoned in one destroyed by chaos.

They have all grown up in the non-magical “Arendelle”, caged by imposed secrecy. That’s Ned, that’s king Agnar, the regular human man. Regular, as in regulation, as in rules. No one must know Elsa’s magical (female) powers. She is locked in a room, contained, lonely. Olaf (love, spring, summer) is a suppressed memory.

Patriarchy, blind duty, the suppression of their inner selves lead to their ruin: Bran the climber who may not climb but then falls, Arya the fighter who may not fight but then murders, Sansa the artist who may not create a dream but instead becomes a liar, Jon the beloved, noble son who is kept in isolation and must be motherless, friendless and damned. Elsa’s magic is harmony but she must hide it and thus brings eternal Winter to Arendelle.

Lyanna, the way Ned refused to talk about her and kept her secret, the effect of that is perfectly illustrated in Elsa’s journey in Frozen I, she is isolated from her emotional needs (Anna, lonely, hungry for connection, full of bad judgment), she has no control over her magic, it turns into something terrible. She pays the price in loneliness and then struggles without proper guidance to “grow up”, to harness her inner strength. She does gain control but it’s chaotic and leaves her vulnerable to abuse and betrayal (Hans) and everything almost falls to ruin, until the power of love creates a last-minute save and a spot of recovery. That’s when they retake Winterfell and reconvene. They all go through this journey and meet at the stalemate.

Frozen II is about connecting to the source of that magic and reconciling with it, about validating it, returning it to its proper place. They find out that Mother Iduna had magic, too. They find out that Elsa’s magic is the key to harmony, that she is not just accepted but necessary just as she is. What was forbidden is now essential. Elsa is finally free to be herself, she applies her magic to save the world and then peacefully lives in it. Anna has a safe space to fullfil her emotional needs and bring all her own talents to life. She is no longer lonely and without purpose, she is queen, soon to be wife, likely to be mother. The other, equally valid side of Iduna. 

Lyanna, the previously hidden and locked power of the female Stark magic: mother, sister, lover; lady, fool and knight, she-wolf, caged bird and the most beautiful flower grown with love from an inhospitable place. She has all the good and bad sides of Bran, Arya, Sansa and Jon, and each in their own way are healed when they follow the call and find her. Their true selves will be validated in every aspect, by being mirrored in Lyanna. 

Bran: his true purpose is to uncover THIS secret while “climbing” a Broken Tower of Joy. His ability to “fly” to learn the truth from the weirdwood memory, it gives meaning to everything that happened to him. Their failure: to break the rules in secret, leading to their unprotected fall. They are ruined, broken. Their redemption:  This fall later unlocks the key to saving the world. Lyanna begets her beloved son Jon. Bran discovers his greenseeing abilities. Being discovered for their true selves makes Bran the Lord of Truth, it makes Lyanna the Queen of Love and Beauty once more, they can leave the Tower the proper way, climb out of that window and fly home. Lyanna comes home, not just her bones, her true self. The truth will set you free, and it turns the potentially destructive, secretive nature of the Three-Eyed Raven into a savior, it turns Winter into Summer.

Arya: Lyanna, the beautiful Stark maiden, who rode a horse and weilded sword and lance and defended the innocent and tried to create justice. The true Lady Knight. Their failures: her impatience and anger at injustice make her heedless and lead to a dismantling of the world, others pay the price in blood (Rickard, Brandon and Lady, all of Arya’s kills). They become a source of death and destruction that eventually destroys her, too. Their redemption: They choose life by choosing Jon. (Make all the abortion jokes you want, but Lyanna LOVED Jon, she chose him in her heart.) Lyanna saves the world by giving it Jon. Arya does the same. She loves Jon first with all her heart, which enables him to love the world in turn, to free Arya by giving her Needle, which then will in turn be the instrument to Arya’s swan song, where she defends the innocent and enacts justice and saves Jon one last time. Found and validated by her spiritual mirror Lyanna, the Queen of Love and Beauty, Arya paves the way for life and the real Spring, not the false Spring. It paves the way for Lyanna’s dream. The blood red tears of the weirwood, of Lady Stoneheart, turn into the image of the Laughing Tree,

Sansa: Lyanna, the dreamer, the lover, the idealist, the mother-in-waiting, the girl who wanted it all: Life lived with emotional fulfillment. Who believed in her heart that there is worth in her dreams and that she was inherently worthy of seeing them realized. Lyanna’s desire, her love, her dreams are Sansa’s. This shared aspect is the most feminine part of all the Starks, the Summer in all that Stark Winter imagery. And Sansa is ridiculed for it because there is no counterbalance to the hypermasculity of their world. Sansa and Lyanna are both betrayed by this imbalance. The oppression inherent in their paternatlistic world takes their softness and turns it into weakness, takes their life-giving bodies and turns them into a weapon against them. Marriage for love becomes rape and birth becomes death. The Sping turns false and, as their dreams die, so does Winter kill life in the world. Their “failure”: Both rebel by turning traitor. They lie, they leave, they turn their backs on their family, they unwittingly deliver themselves into the hands of the enemy. They are made fools. As objects, they inspire the violence and death that Arya herself deals out as a “dark knight”. Their very absence means death to dreams for those who want to live them. Persephone in Hades. Their redemption: Becoming Anna, the non-magical sister. Becoming the real, worldly Queen. Taking control. Giving power to the feminine. When Sansa embraces her own self-worth, she inspires devotion, decency, nobility. When Sansa begins to actively create, she forges a world in which dreams can thrive and when they make their dreams come true, life wins out. She will leave the Tower alive, she will meet her love. Chaos is reigned in, they create stability, beauty, bounty. The true Spring happens when they come into power and preside over all their creations and children with love at their side. Happiness. Spring is coming.

Jon: He and Arya and Sansa are tied together, obviously. The sun and stars (the sun is a star, after all), and the moon of life. Jon is the “true” Elsa, the fifth spirit, her magical heir. He is Lyanna come again, fulfilling what life promised her. Their failure: Believing there is no love for them, they are pressed into a life that abnegates all feminine energy, all dreams. Where Lyanna rebels and becomes a fool, Jon, as a man, flings himself into self-denial and still becomes a fool. As a motherless Stark bastard he can never be his true noble self because the world leaves no room for all he has to offer. Like Lyanna, he is trapped by the rigid rules. Like Sansa, he is ridiculed. Like Bran, the secret in the tower is the source of his misery. This almost turns him into an ice block. It leaves him vulnerable to false love, harmful secrecy, betrayal, death. Their redemption: true love. It is Ned’s love that leads him to keep looking until Lyanna is found and to preserve her legacy. It is Arya’s love that keeps Jon from turning into a rigid, unbending Stannis, it will have her looking until Jon is found again, it will have her lay down her life for his. It will be Sansa’s love that leads Jon back to life after death every time. Real life, Anna’s life. It will be Bran’s love that uncovers the truth. This truth will melt the ice. Lyanna saves Jon when it is revealed that the mother he dreamed of all his life was real. Noble and kind and beautiful and loving him with all her heart. Not some man’s bastard but his mother’s beloved and “trueborn” son, the brightest star in our sky, the gillyflower. This will unlock his ability to fulfill his Destiny, save the world, realize his own dreams and Lyanna’s: a true Stark, the fool knight who wins the love of his Lady, saves her from a tower, marries for love, a parent to children of his own blood. Masculine in harmony with the feminine to create and preserve life.

Lyanna is the key to all of them. Like Iduna’s call leads Elsa to discover her true purpose, the fact that her life is a gift to the world, Lyanna validates the qualities of all the Stark kids. None of them can fulfill their destiny without touching upon her, not until she becomes visible. But when they do, it will be epic. 

And “Show Yourself” just sort of captures the whole range and magnitude of this emotional arc. It really is a brilliant song.

[elesianne]

A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter five – last chapter

Story summary: Through all the struggles and triumphs of the Noldor, Angrod and Edhellos hold on to their love and their faith in each other.

Despite the title, there is more than romance in this fic.

Chapter length: ~1,900 words; Rating: Teenage audiences

Some keywords for the whole fic: romance, family, some fluff and angst, mild sexual content, the Noldor and their fall and their triumphs, canon compliant

A/N: A gentle reminder that there's that Major Character Death at the end of this chapter.

AO3 link (first chapter here)

*

Chapter V //  The long defeat

He has dwelt in the West since the days of dawn, and I have dwelt with him years uncounted; [---] and together through ages of the world we have fought the long defeat. – The Lord of the Rings, Mirror of Galadriel; said by Galadriel about Celeborn, but Edhellos might have said the same about Angrod

The first time that Edhellos visits Doriath's king and queen with her husband, she is made to feel fairly welcome despite her being one of the Noldor. Artanis, Galadriel as she now wishes to be called, is glad to see her and at once introduces to Edhellos the man who gave her her beautiful new name. Edhellos is happy that her sister-in-law has finally found a man she deems worth loving. He does appear to be worthy of Galadriel's fierce-wise spirit; if not otherwise, then by his adoration of her.

The second time Edhellos accompanies Angrod and his brothers to Doriath, hidden, bitter truths spill free from her husband's lips after provocation by Thingol, and they receive confirmation from Melian the Maia's lips just how much of the Prophecy of North applies to them too.

The prophecy lies heavy on them, dark and inescapable, as Edhellos with Angrod and Aegnor rides home in silence and in shame that angers them all for it is mostly for the deeds of others. Yet they rebelled too and they must pay the price, whatever it will be.

It takes many peaceful years in the cool sunlight of Dorthonion for some of that weight to fade from their hearts.

*

With Thingol's ban on Quenya, Edhellos grieves the loss of her name in her first language. It is the name that her mother gave her, and she always treasured being Eldalótë, flower of Eldar. She only ever hears it from her husband's lips now, whispered or cried out at private moments.

'You have followed me through every danger, my Eldalótë', Angrod says at one of those cherished moments in the quiet and warmth of their bed where they lie side by side. The roaring flames in the fireplace do well at banishing the cold and dampness that plagues Dorthonion for much of the year.

He traces his hand down her side, leaving it to rest on her hip. There is a small scar there from a poisoned orc-spear that tore through her armour. Angrod bears a larger one on the side of his neck. Strangely, after two great battles, the strike that caused that wound was dealt by a small scouting party of orcs with foul weapons, forcing Edhellos to face the possibility of life without him.

But the wound healed, and Angrod is no less fair for the scar, and he is stronger than ever.

Edhellos blinks and returns to this moment. 'I would follow you through more', she murmurs.

'You may have to.' The set of his jaw is serious. Edhellos knows his worry and feels it too: they believe that apart from the high king, the other rulers of Beleriand don't take the threat of Morgoth seriously enough, rejoicing and trusting too much in the time of peace.

'Then I shall.' Edhellos tips her head up to kiss him softly. 'Do not worry at moments like this, my beloved. We can do that in our council room.'

'Mm. I shall follow your wise advice.' Angrod kisses her back, less gentle, and tips her on her back and settles above her. 'And I find I am not yet weary, my faithful wife with soft lips and silken hair.'

Edhellos raises her hand to gently touch that twisting scar on his neck, and then to his short hair that frames his face as a gleaming curtain. 'How fortunate that I am not tired either', she tells him.

Angrod's smile is the sunrise. 'Let us tire each other out, then.'

*

Time passes, and things keep changing though the peace lasts. Orodreth marries a lovely Sindarin girl with serious eyes and a silver-bell voice. Soon after their first child is born, Finrod completes his great project in the south and moves there, handing control of his watchtower on Sirion to Orodreth.

Edhellos has not cried since the Ice but she cries when she says farewell to her son and his wife and their child with grey eyes and golden curls, dear and sweet. It is not a dreadful farewell – she intends to visit often, though the ride down from the highlands down to Sirion is arduous – but it tears at her heart like few things could.

Dear Aegnor stays, at least, the last one left of Edhellos and Angrod' family which once felt so large gathered in the high halls of Tirion or the white-sand beaches in the Bay of Eldamar.

*

Finrod, the eternal wanderer, discovers the Secondborn whose coming was one of the reasons for Fëanor's rebellion. They do not seem like much of a threat, fleeing the threat and shadow of Morgoth and his followers. Finrod in agreement with Angrod and Aegnor gives one group of Men, faithful to Finrod, a corner of Dorthonion to reside in. Their lord Boromir sends several young, keen ones of his folk to Minas Avras to learn new skills under the tutelage of Angrod, Aegnor and Edhellos' people.

Edhellos gets to know those who stay to serve them. How strange they seem at first with their unfamiliar speech, how fleeting their lives.

Yet how much joy and grief they contain in those short lives – how many births to match the swiftly arriving merciless deaths.

Once Edhellos gets to hold a young baby that is the ninth child of its mother. She marvels at the tiny fingers and toes, as perfect as those of any child of the Eldar, and at the mother, who seems tired but not utterly drained in spirit.

There are none among the Eldar who have fathered or mothered nine or even eight children. Edhellos cannot but regard the Secondborn, and especially their women, with respect. She is glad that her people's skills can help them live longer and healthier lives. How many more dangers there are to them in the world!

*

And how dangerous one of the Edain's strong-hearted, wise-hearted women can turn out to be to a man of the Eldar.

One day Aegnor leaves with a few of his men to ride a long patrol around Dorthonion, as he often does. Two weeks later he returns, changed.

Edhellos comes to welcome him home when she is told that he is back. She finds him stabling his horse.

'Welcome back, Aegnor. Is all well in our land?' Aegnor turns to him, and Edhellos blanches. 'What is wrong, brother?' She rushes to his side. 'Have you been hurt?'

'I have been dealt a strike from which I will never recover', he answers.

'Where?' She can see no blood or bandages, no breach in his armour.

'In the eastern highlands, at sunrise.' Aegnor busies himself with his horse's tack and doesn't look her in the eyes. 'And again at night on the shore of Tarn Aeluin.'

He will not speak more until the evening when he and she and Angrod are gathered for dinner in a private room, servants sent away.

Aegnor tells Edhellos and Angrod that he met a mortal woman who at once touched his spirit. A few short days they had spent together before Aegnor continued on his patrol.

'She would have come with me but I told her that I cannot bind her to me. Not at this time of untrue peace which may end my life at any moment, and should it spare me, we would be torn apart by age.' Aegnor stares into his wine. 'Yet I will never be free of her. I touched her hand and she…'

'What did she do?' Edhellos begs. Beside her, Angrod sits frozen.

'Nothing but be beautiful in the light of the sun and the scent of heather, and bright like the stars in the dark of a moonless night. The night, the night I said goodbye there was a star caught in her hair', is all that Aegnor can speak before staring, silent, into the fire for a long time. Eventually he says, 'I have turned away from her and I shall never see her again in life – not by intention, not by chance; that much is given to me to see. But the memory of her –' His bitter-sweet words fade away.

'The memory of her you shall always have', Edhellos says quietly. She embraces Aegnor's still, stiff form and takes Angrod's hand, and they leave Aegnor to his memory and silence.

*

Her heart chilled and heavy for Aegnor, that night Edhellos burrows as deep into Angrod's arms as she can before they fall to rest together.

'We were so fortunate, my love', she speaks into his chest. 'We found each other young, and there happened to be no obstacle in our way. Our boring love story, as Maglor and Fingon called it long ago, is the best thing I could imagine happening.'

'I know.' He sighs into her hair. 'Even if Morgoth should break the siege tomorrow and slay us, we have had centuries to love each other. Aegnor didn't get a single moment of love unsullied by heartbreak.'

Edhellos almost cries at that, and Angrod holds her so tight within his arms that it is as clear a demonstration of grief as tears from him would be.

The brightness of Aegnor's eyes is ever dimmed since that day apart from in the heat of battle when it is more fearsome than ever, as if he were avenging the loss of even more than before.

*

'We must flee now, my lady, if we ever will! The enemy is drawing near', one of the guards calls to her, coughing from Morgoth's foul smoke that for the first time reaches even their highlands.

Angrod and Aegnor rode to battle earlier, leaving Edhellos to lead the defence of their home in case the enemy overruns Dorthonion. She looks wildly around her, a painful band constricting around her heart at the sight of her beloved home and her brave people.

She is no great fighter but she is a princess of the Noldor and she has forged herself a heart of a warrior over the centuries nonetheless. She can see the tops of distant pines red with fire. There is no safe route to flee to the lands of their allies, and Edhellos will not lead her people to hide in dark caverns and wait to be hounded out of them.

'We will stay and fight to defend our home', she tells what remains here of her people, and her heart rises to a battle-song at the sight of a fierce will rising into their eyes.

They stay to fight a battle that appears hopeless, as is the wont of their people. As she draws her bow at the sight of the enemy approaching, she prays that at least her son and his family will be spared this onslaught of fire and fell creatures, or that he can fight it off. Orodreth was only a child when they fell under the Doom; children should be spared such judgement.

Her prayer will most likely go unanswered, but pray for her child she must even if she can expect little aid from the Valar she turned her back on.

She wonders how Angrod fares in the battle he rode to.

When only hours later Edhellos' armour is pierced by a foul black sword, and all the world is red with fire and pain, she doesn't know if all the pain is hers or if she has been given the strange mercy of drawing her last rasping breath at the same time as her ever-beloved.

*

A/N: I want to warmly thank everyone who has followed (or read in one go) this fic about some less-known, less popular Silmarillion characters.

I enjoyed writing Edhellos' story in spite of its sad ending. I might write one or more side stories or sequels, though I'll write and post some more Lothíriel/Éomer fics first, as well as one little sequel to Your spirit calling out to mine.

Special thanks to all who have reblogged or commented. I appreciate fic reblogs greatly because they are so rare, and I love hearing what readers think of my fics.

[twelvemonkeyswere]

AFFC - Jaime III

aka Bear Pit Pt 2: That Time Jaime Takes a Long Ride that Proves his Compassionate Nature and That He Will Defend Brienne Even If She Is Not Around or in Immediate Danger

Thoughts on Jaime / Brienne:

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

“His hand shone dully in its light. No good for throttling eunuchs, but heavy enough to smash that slimy smile into a fine red ruin. He wanted to hit someone.”

→ HA! “a fine red ruin”. Get it, huh, huh? Because Red gets ruined? HA!

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

1/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“Payne was as rusty as his ringmail, and not so strong as Brienne, yet he met every cut with his own blade, or interposed his shield.”

→ We do mention a lot how Brienne constantly says ‘he ain’t Jaime tho’ but Jaime is just the same: ‘Payne ain’t Brienne but he’ll do’

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

2/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“Jaime found himself wondering if Brienne might have passed this way before him. If she thought that Sansa Stark had made for Riverrun . . . Had they encountered other travelers, he might have stopped to ask if any of them had chance to see a pretty maid with auburn hair, or a big ugly one with a face that would curdle milk.”

→ I’m a sucker for Jaime having Brienne’s same train of thought and thinking about her journey constantly. As others have pointed out, he is startled by his wondering and has to remind himself how ugly she is, right? The fact he wants to ask about Sansa (his vow) is nice, but the fact he also wants to ask about Brienne (his special interest), is very nice.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

3/3 time Jaime actively mentions Brienne in his thoughts:

“He passed beneath the covered bridge… before he realized where he was headed.”

→ Don’t fucking @ me. The bear pit is a direct, unquestionable straight line to Brienne and as soon as he gets a chance he, unbidden, goes to her memory.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

So Bear Pit Pt 2:

““Naked? No.” He wondered how that wrinkle had been added to the story.”

→ Kingslayer’s whore?

“The Mummers put her in a pink silk gown and shoved a tourney sword into her hand. The Goat wanted her death to be amuthing. Elsewise . . .”

“. . . the sight of Brienne naked might have made the bear flee in terror.” Connington laughed. Jaime did not. “You speak as if you know the lady.”

→ a couple of things:

what I LOVE about this moment is that Jaime is here genuinely trying to make some conversation and casually doing disrespectful impressions of the man who almost kills them and he’s actually concerned with explaining the truth and HE IS DISREGARDED by Connignton because Connington is an ass and THEN Connington disrespects his wench and it just.fucking.activates.him.

Jaime remembers the dress clear enough to describe it in material and color (this man is definitely not my father)

what was after that ‘elsewise’? ‘Elsewise, she would’ve killed it? She would’ve won? I would not have needed to jump in?’ Jaime respects (and admires!) Brienne SO FUCKING MUCH I wanna believe he was going to sing his praises here.

“That took him by surprise. Brienne had never mentioned a betrothal.”

→ He's SO OFFENDED lmao Heaven knows how much shit he talked during their walk across the Riverlands and he is like, Brienne surely would’ve mentioned something of SUCH importance but he also senses that if she DIDN’T it was because of REASONS and gosh does he make Ronnet spill the beans.

““I was the second. My father’s notion. I had heard the wench was ugly, and I told him so, but he said all women were the same once you blew the candle out.”

“Your father.” Jaime eyed Red Ronnet’s surcoat.”

→ Jaime taking notice of who Connington dad is because HE’S GONNA CUT A BITCH

→ (and also because he is trying to unravel why they would betroth Brienne to this idiot and he discovers it’s because they are poor and were going to use her to elevate his status and you can just feel his disdain, I fucking love it)

““The bear was less hairy than that freak, I’ll—”

Jaime’s golden hand cracked him across the mouth so hard the other knight went stumbling down the steps.”

→ the first time I read this I fucking TRANSCENDED because I wanted to smack each of Brienne’s wrongdoers myself. Jaime stood his ground as much as he could but the moment he insults Brienne with “freak” (and insults her bush, which we know he was gladly impressed by) he just fucking reacts. And my favorite bit is…

“You are speaking of a highborn lady, ser. Call her by her name. Call her Brienne.”

→ FIRST, Jaime hasn’t referred to Brienne internally as “wench” or anything else but Brienne in a fucking long time.

→ SECOND, this shows just how much he respects her as a woman, as a mf lady, and how much he’ll demand others will treat her as such.

→ And THIRD, it shows how much he respects her, PERIOD. We love a man who loves and respects his beloved.

Thoughts on Jaime:

Clearly even though Loras is young Jaime thinks he is worth his salt. And it’s not until Cersei brings up his gayness that Jaime doesn’t really anger. Even Cersei points out that Jaime’s “perception” of manhood has changed but I think it has to do more about Jaime respecting Loras and him self-actualizing his identity.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

More on Cersei:

“Cersei slapped his face. / Jaime made no attempt to block the blow. “I see I need a thicker beard, to cushion me against my queen’s caresses.” He wanted to rip her gown off and turn her blows to kisses.”

→ this looks terribly like conditioned behaviour because Jaime previously mentions he has to “beg” for her “affections” and that means “coaxing” her into changing that. Same thing happens when they are discussing the unmentionable knife and he sits her on his lap to stop her from being angry. which actually leads me to…

“Softer words might have swayed her, yet of late the very sight of her made him angry”

→ He balked her on purpose, though he seems to miss her somehow still (he’s horny, too) he gets angry at her and doesn’t let that impulse govern him at all. But he does allow himself to anger her because he doesn’t want to have to treat her kindly. It’s almost like he’s realizing how hateful she actually is.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

FUCKING KILL ME BRUH

“It had been long years since Jaime had named any of his horses; he had seen too many die in battle, and that was harder when you named them.”

→ Jaime: traumatized horse girl. Poor man.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Symbolism?

“Glory wore trappings of Lannister crimson; Honor was barded in Kingsguard white”

→ I’m sure this is symbolism but heck if I can put it into words. Like, it seems clear (?) they represent two sides of Jaime, the need to uphold the Lannister name (glory) and the dedicated vows of his knighthood (honor) but… that’s as far as I get.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Paralelism: 

Jaime’s “price” for going to the Riverlands is Ilyn Payne (a counterpart to Brienne’s Pod) and Ser Addam (a person from his past, like Brienne’s Hyle). I like their parallelism. Like, they’re accompanied by someone who reminds them who they were and what they have/are becoming while on a quest caused by their vows.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Jaime is not stupid:

“Robb Stark took me unawares in the Whispering Wood,” he said. “That will never happen again.”

→ besides this man turns trauma into learning points.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Jaime cares about others:

“Jaime had given stern commands that no man was to depart the column without his leave.” → He protects the land as they go, he scoffs at the “bored lordings” who could trample and attack the stock and farms along the way.

Little Lew Piper brings blackberries, Jaime orders him to share them with the other squires and fucking Ilyn Payne.

Feeling sorry for the horse and bear.

Pia!

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

More Paralelism:

I love this bit that calls back to Jaime’s first chapter ever:

“Riding at the front of the host with Ser Ilyn silent by his side, Jaime felt almost content. The sun was warm on his back and the wind riffled through his hair like a woman’s fingers.”

→ It’s like a more toned down “alive and drunk on sunlight.”. Instead of feeling alive, he feels almost content. Instead of drunk, warm. Instead of Cersei's fingers, a woman's. And it’s about being free from a former entrapment behind enemy lines.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Goldenhand

“Men shall name you Goldenhand from this day forth, my lord,” the armorer had assured him the first time he’d fitted it onto Jaime’s wrist. He was wrong. I shall be the Kingslayer till I die.”

→ I swear to God if they give him the nickname AFTER he dies I’m going to fucking scream (fingers crossed he won’t die)

“The golden hand was the occasion for much admiring comment over supper, at least until Jaime knocked over a goblet of wine. Then his temper got the best of him… After that there was no more talk about his hand.”

→ These fucking people omgggg fucking bootlickers. Besides he lets the common folk/his men see him as he is but has to pretend for "polite" company. I like that the hand is almost a second thought like, Well I suppose I ought to wear the hand to dinner.

→ He also says they’ll call him ‘Goldenhand the Just’ eventually because he is willing to impart justice even to the men who served his own house (he hangs a man in Lannister red for being a bandit), and if that doesn’t show AGAIN he is willing to do the right thing if necessary… well.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Jaime’s shames:

“They have lusty wenches in House Hayford. These are love bites, lad.”

→ Jaime Lannister, famously monogamous, thinks a fake hickey excuse is less shameful than his shortcomings. But also he needs to appear commanding.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Jaime, Horsegirl (contin’d):

““These are demons in the skins of wolves, sent to chastise us for our sins.”

“This must have been an uncommonly sinful horse,” Jaime said, standing over what remained of the poor animal.”

→ this line is not just funny but shows just how much Jaime has an affinity to the innocent.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

About Hoat:

since the description of how he died (tortured, cut up in pieces, fed his own flesh, then defiled in death) happens right before the goddamn Bear Pit Pt 2 I had completely forgotten about it. Jaime hears the tale, sees the head, and hi satisfaction at his death seems to curdle. I just like that of course, we know Jaime is not cruel. And that even though Brienne told him to “live and take revenge,” he is NOT finding pleasure in a death he might have gloated on if he were different.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

About Pia:

“She is a font of corruption,” said Ser Bonifer…

“I expect her flaunting days are done,” he said, “but if you find her that objectionable, I’ll take her.” He could make her a washerwoman, he supposed. His squires did not mind raising his tent, grooming his horse, or cleaning his armor, but the task of caring for his clothes struck them as unmanly

→ So first, this is one of the reasons I like Jaime. He is actually very very compassionate, and actually defends Pia. Second, does this seem to suggest he would’ve personally taken care of his clothes if he had two hands? Or just that this seems like an excuse to bring her in? Also, I love how the squires will do the cleaning but draw the line at washing clothes.

----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Jaime internally calling Ser Bonifer “Baelor Butthole” is infinitely amuthing to me.

[sunshineandfangs]

Cartref Enaid Mini Sequel

I’m sorry Tumblr gave you such a hard time, but I did receive your ask in the end!  Also, apologies for the brief radio silence, I was in the Adirondacks over the weekend. My delay since then...ah totally my own procrastination lol.

Mini-sequel to Sol & Viento (speed boat racing) can be found here. Mini-sequel to Cartref Enaid below. Yes, I played around with events a bit for the increased Drama™ Apologies for the lack of smut. It’s decently long though for a mini! It’s honestly not really a mini.

Ping: @scarletwidow-shipper

---

Caroline laid in the grass beneath her tree, feeling the warm rays of the sun on her naked skin. She still wasn’t quite sure how such a tiny town had so much drama occurring in it. The creation of a Hybrid, the breaking of his curse, the birth of a new lineage. 

And that wasn’t even touching on yesterday’s events. The awakening of the entire so-called Original Family. Six old vampires and an old witch all inhabiting one town. 

The infant Bennett certainly played with fire.

An amused sounding croak disrupted her thoughts, her only warning before a piece of high-quality cardstock fell point first onto her bare nipple. The blonde cracked an eye open to level a disgruntled glare at her familiar, the minor trick rather typical of the raven when the mood struck.

She rubbed her skin, the sensation more uncomfortable than painful, before flipping the card around deftly. Her eyebrow rose.

Branwen was all but cackling from her branch perch.

                                                Please Join The                                               Mikaelson Family                                    This Evening At Seven O’Clock                                          For Dancing, Cocktails                                           & Celebration

And on the backside:

Save me a dance? Fondly, Klaus

I shall find the finest of branches to inhabit in order to bare witness to what shall surely be historical events.

Caroline didn’t bother to reply, sensing that, teasing aside, this ball would indeed be the catalyst for something potentially world-altering. The last time so much magic gathered in one place, the Children of the Blood were born.

---

Klaus’ smirk was wooden, only a tiny fraction of his attention on the human chattering away in his ear. His siblings, even Finn, were putting on a convincing show of casual ease. But he knew all of them were tracking Mikael’s and Esther’s movements across the room.

A thousand years of habit and instinct were roiling beneath his façade, screaming to flee or fight. To tear his dear Mother’s heart out for the second time. To throw every one of the clueless humans in Mikael’s path and try his damndest to end things once and for all. To-

He and and six other ancient creatures pivoted slightly as an eighth stepped into the room.

In the privacy of his own thoughts, Klaus could admit that it was a gamble to invite the Fae. Their actions and motives tended to be inscrutable, and she may just be his ruin. 

As he cut through the crowd toward her, a resplendent figure clad in silken ocean waves and moonlight, he made a calculated bet that her uncharacteristic generosity towards him would win out. But if nothing else her mere presence would throw a wrench in Esther’s plans.

---

Caroline felt several pairs of eyes shift towards her. Seven were wary, one was angry, one was confused, and the rest were gawking humans, mildly glamoured by the hint of her true nature.

She held out her gloved hand as the Hybrid stopped in front of her, accepting the kiss he pressed to her knuckles.

“Hello, Klaus,” she greeted with a slight nod.

“Good evening,” he returned carefully. Some of her amusement likely played across her face. What a stark contrast, this wary politeness to his earlier confidence.

Curls tickled her bare shoulders as she cocked her head a fraction, eyes darting from Klaus to the other ancients in the room. She looked back. Her silver-blue eyes met and held his ocean-blue ones. “You may call me Caroline.”

“Well met, Caroline,” he uttered, shifting to offer her his arm. She took it and he gestured toward the crowded room. “Shall we, then?”

The two wove their way through the throngs of people, even as Caroline flicked her gaze upward and slowed her steps.

“I do believe you are about to be called away.”

Klaus followed her gaze.

---

His elder brother looked a bit tense, indiscernible to the humans, but the rigid line of his shoulders stood out to those that had known him for centuries.

“If everyone could gather, please.” 

Klaus’ eyes traced over the similarly uncomfortable forms of his siblings, reluctantly moving toward the staircase himself to take his place.

He spared a moment to eye Mikael. The man’s malevolent gaze was already trained on him from where he descended the steps beside Esther. His suspicion only heightened as he watched her gently brush his arm, the two sharing a look before settling their eyes on the crowd below.

The wood and metal of the railing just brushed the fabric of his pant leg. This was the closest Klaus had been to Mikael in over a century. Last they met with so little space between them, his beloved horse had paid the price, its beheaded body pooling blood that seeped into both their shoes.

And before the night was through, he knew more blood would be shed. One way or another.

“Welcome, thank you for joining us...”

He tuned out his brother’s lying spiel (as if they had ever gathered together quite like this) far more interested in training his ears on the mutterings of his Doppelgänger and her self-proclaimed protectors. 

Fortunately, the three took little care with where they spoke, and unsurprisingly revealed that Esther (and Mikael) well deserved his continued scrutiny. Unfortunately, his parents were far more discerning, the two vanishing upstairs behind a wall of burning sage. 

As people began to trickle into the ballroom, Klaus lead a random woman into a waltz. Most of his attention still focused on his Doppelgänger and her whispered plans to follow after Esther.

The woman spun away, seamlessly replaced by Caroline, her eyes half-lidded and faintly glowing as she peered at him. Her hand shifted in its place on his shoulder, a slight increase in pressure as she spoke.

“Should I be offended by this lack of attention, Klaus?”

A large portion of his regard switched to the Fae dancing with him, evaluating if she truly felt an insult. He was relieved when he realized the glimmer in her eyes was more playful than malicious, though he engaged in some flirtation all the same.

“Not at all, Caroline, surely you are the most alluring being in the room.”

Her lips quirked. She looked both pleased and exasperated by his flattery. For all that the normally hollow words rung true. And all the while the two stepped flawlessly across the ballroom, all but gliding in time with the music.

She was a wonderful dancing. And he was about to tell her so before his mood plummeted at her next words.

“Your little brunette curiosity has been spirited away.”

Klaus nearly froze as he re-extended his senses, internally cursing his distraction when he noticed the girl had indeed vanished. Locked behind sage as well, no doubt.

His fingers twitched against silken skin and fabric, forcing himself not to react as the wicked creature’s hand slid up his shoulder to his cheek. A gentle caress brushed the light scruff on his face and he looked at the blonde in his arms, gaze likely dark with his frustration.

Now her eyes held a glint of malevolence. “Do not glower at me, Niklaus Anselson. You have yet to give me cause to seek your death.” He barely twitched beneath her hands, the two of them still whirling gracefully around the room. “In fact, I rather think I shall snatch the girl myself for a few days. What intriguing sparks of magic run in her otherwise human veins.” His lips thinned as her eyes continued to sparkle with mirth. Breath washed hot and sweet across his face as she leaned closer, tilting her head slowly to whisper in his ear. Her voice nearly inaudible even to his keen senses.

“I am rather doing you a favor, Klaus. So, one last piece of advice before I go...if I were you I would consume nothing that I did not witness from source to tongue.”

She slowly pulled back from his lax grip, her scent swirling around him. Petal soft skin brushing against him.

“Until next time, Klaus,” she murmured before departing.

---

For all her taunts, Caroline was far less reluctant to help the Hybrid than she made it seem. Something about him still tugging at her curiosity. And as all her kind do she made good on her word, vanishing with the strange girl as soon as she was released from the witch’s grasp.

---

“My sons, my daughter, come forward.”

To her credit, Rebekah’s lip only trembled for a split second as the five of them fanned out around the flaming pentagram. Finn so determined only because his beloved Sage waited in the wings. Kol eager for blood and smarting at this final familial betrayal. Elijah imbued with the ferocity that arose when someone threatened his family. Their parents, at last, no longer counted among its number. And Klaus? Klaus could feel the wild baying of his wolf in his blood. Utterly despising the cause that brought him to this dark hill. Yet part of him was also delighted, each of his siblings at his side, united.

Esther and Mikael regarded them all with cold eyes.

Elijah shifted a fraction. “Whatever you think of us, killing your own children will be an atrocity.”

“My only regret is that I did not let you die a thousand years ago.”

Rebekah minutely flinched at hearing such words from the mother she had only recently renounced. “How can you say that?! You,” her glaring eyes switched from mother to father and back again, “the both of you made us what we are!”

It was Mikael that answered this time. “And we are about to rectify that, daughter.”

She sneered. “Don’t call me that! You lost that right when you stabbed your sword through our hearts.”

“Enough,” Esther cut in. “ For a thousand years, I've been forced to watch you. Felt the pain of every victim, suffered while you shed blood. Even you, Elijah, with your claim to nobility, you're no better. All of you. You're a curse on this Earth. Stretched out over generations. If you've come to plead for your life, I'm sorry, you've wasted your time.“

Klaus felt his nails start to shift into claws. “All this talk is boring me,” he taunted. “How do you intend to end this, Esther? You failed to bind us together and you’ve only one White Oak Stake.”

He didn’t like the glee that lit in Mikael’s eyes, the calmness with which Esther replied.

“My magic combined with the Bennett bloodline will easily invoke power you cannot even imagine.”

Mikael continued where she left off. “Or perhaps you can, boy.” Their eyes locked across the flames, each imbuing equal hatred in their glares. “After all, you danced with her.”

---

Caroline felt the tugs of magic pull at her being. She could resist them if she wanted. But why would she, when it would bring her precisely where she wanted to be?

Her sunset lit tree dissolved around her. Branwen faded to shadow as she flew across the void. Caroline’s own form blurred as it crossed time and space to the site of the summons.

Around her burned a flaming pentagram. Five agitated immortals at its perimeter and two near gloating ones at its heart. Her eyes caught on Klaus’, his form beyond the two before her, his eyes colored golden with wolf and fire. There was a flicker of betrayal before it was swallowed by wrath.

The woman turned to face her, stepping closer to where Caroline stood near the ring’s edge.

“Nature’s Hand, I beseech you! Cleanse the world of this foul taint, help me undo what should have never been done!”

Rather than directly answer, the blonde slowly walked the boundary of the circle, arbitrarily coming to a stop part way around. Her back and side now mostly faced Klaus and his siblings. She settled her gaze on the man who had stood silent as his wife entreated her.

“About some things the Fae can be remarkably simple creatures, and we all love a bloody revenge story.” Behind her, Caroline could hear a sub-vocal growl. She ignored it. Her gaze shifted to the witch. “But you? A witch your age should have a far better grasp of just what Nature is. And yet all you toss around are words like ‘balance’ which you do not understand. For all that you claim guardianship over the skewed ideal.”

The air shifted around them, none of them knowing how to react to this unexpected denouncement.

And on silent wings a shadow cut a swath across moon and stars and stillness, flying through the witch before she could even take a breath to retort. As quickly as she had come, Branwen vanished. 

All was still once more, people stunned, confused, the only sound the crackling of fire. And then, Esther fell. Her body crumbling to dust in an instant.

For a moment, no one knew how to react. Yet Caroline was unsurprised when Mikael lunged toward her, rage and grief painted across his face. Whatever faults and virtues created the Destroyer, the man did love his wife.

However, it was in vain. She simply flowed around him, swiping an intricately carved stake with ease, and tossed it high into the air.

“Yes, we do love a tale of vengeance,” she repeated as she faded from view, intangible as she watched them all move in a flurry of blurred limbs, intent fixed on one little stake.

She would interfere if Klaus was in true danger of perishing, but she doubted it would come to that. No, he would emerge victorious alongside his siblings. Hunt for her in the following days as she loitered around this tiny town.

Waiting for him.

---

Current and upcoming sequels here.

My poll for the initial focus of my multi-chapter is also still up here.

[crackmadhi]

Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel

Wednesday, 26 December 2029

Apollo stretched his arms lazily as he entered the living room. Christmas dinner with the Wrights had been… excessively much and he still felt full. So, he gladly had taken Klavier’s offer to stay over with him for the next few days and just lay around and do nothing at all in the man’s house.

Or well, almost nothing, if you know what I mean…

Anyway, Apollo petted his beloved cat that had greeted him. It was nice to feel Mikeko’s fluffy fur, but he was actually on the look out for his boyfriend, who had been yet to be found. With a frown he straightened up and said to his cat: “Well, apparently my quest on finding my prosecutor is far from over. Are you going to accompany me on my noble journey, my honourable feline fellow?”

Mikeko flicked his eyes and looked to the side. That was good enough for Apollo and he went downstairs to the private recording studio. Klav did not use it much these days, or at least no longer in its original purpose. He still played music down there, but he had also installed a home cinema with a projector to watch movies and series.

As Apollo went down the stairs, Mikeko following him closely, he heard an endearing melody play. It was nothing Apollo knew, but he guessed that it was film music. It sounded soft and tinkling and somehow it reminded Apollo of the snow in the mountains. Curiously he entered the room, slowly opening the already a crack open door and glanced around in the room.

With his back turned to the door Klavier sat on the couch watching the projection on the wall. On it a young woman riding on a horse through a wintery forest. She was wearing a simple dress, probably made for a maiden and Apollo got the impression that he was looking at the protagonist of a fairy tale.

Suddenly the music stopped, as the woman got down from her horse and three men in ridiculous clothing appeared on the screen. One of them had a hilarious looking red hat thingy on the head and Apollo could no longer contain his curiosity.

“Okay, what is the deal with this film?”, Apollo asked, flopped down on the couch and stared at the red tights one the red hatted man was wearing. “Wow, that’s really a horrible fashion style that dude got there. How old is this?”

A bit surprised at Apollo’s sudden appearance Klavier looked at him stiffly. But quickly his surprise faded and with a bright smile and his eyes back on the movie he answered: “Mid-seventies, I believe. It’s a fairy-tale film made in a Czechoslovak and DDR cooperation and kind of a cult Christmas film in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, the Czech Republic and Slovakia. And some other countries I believe but I don’t know for sure… Oh, and Herr Red-Tights there is the price. The girl’s going to shoot a snowball at him, so he’ll miss the deer.”

And there flew a snowball through the screen. One of the men said something snarky in German to the shooter and Apollo raised an eyebrow. Apparently, the three men now decided that they had to chase the girl.

“Ah, a classic Aschenbrödel move. I love that girl”, Klavier commented and smiled at the young woman.

“Aa-sh-en-brod- what? Is that her name? How the heck did you pronounce that?”, Apollo asked making a staggered grimace.

Klavier laughed in pity and nipped him in the side.

“Aschenbrödel. Don’t try to pronounce it again that was horrible. Yeah, it’s her name. It’s the German version of Cinderella. The film’s name is Drei Haselnüsse für Aschenbrödel, which translates to ‘Three Hazelnuts for Cinderella’. She’ll get the three nuts from an old friend of her father, who found them by accident. They are magical and every one of them contains a dress that she needs right then and there. It’s a really nice film. Even though I grew up here and my mother did not really maintain any rituals from her homeland, she always watched this film with us around Christmas and I became to like it quite a bit over the years.”

The blue eyes were yet again locked on the screen and followed the three men, who miserably failed to catch the little girl. Intrigued Apollo watched his boyfriend’s expression and slowly laid back. The prosecutor had not been this relaxed in a while and somehow Apollo enjoyed him explaining the dialogue and the story to him. So, he leaned to Klavier’s side, put his arm around his shoulder and watched the movie with him.

And eventually the film found its end. The prince had figured out that Aschenbrödel’s sister was not her and could solve the little riddle she had given him. And so, they were riding over the snowy fields to the castle with the pretty melody from earlier.

The whole thing was actually quiet entertaining Apollo found himself thinking and softly squeezed his boyfriend’s arm.

“The music was really pretty, and the girl was very expressive. I liked her a lot”, Apollo reviewed to his wide grinning prosecutor and pecked his cheek.

“Mhm”, Klavier hummed, “the music is truly great. And the actress is candy for the eye. She is a beauty and her dresses were astounding. They did an awesome job with this film.”

“It is good for what it is. I can’t argue with that. Maybe I should see the whole thing sometimes.”

“You definitely should! I’d love to watch it again with you. Maybe I find a subtitle version from it somewhere. Anyway, what did you like best of it?”

Apollo tapped his forehead in musing and looked up to the ceiling.

“Probably that part where the stepmother fell into the pond with the daughter. That was good. Also, when Ms. Ashen-thingy was snarky with the prince and the stepmother. That was really good.”

Klavier giggled and covered his mouth with his hand.

Apollo winked at him and asked amused: “What did you like best about it, though? You must have seen it a hundred times, huh?”

“Ja, I did in fact. Hmm… I think it’s the ball scene I like best. It’s not the thing they filmed best but I like the atmosphere, and they gazing at each other, and the king being clueless and impatient to learn the mystery woman’s identity. Also, I like all the animal scenes in the film and in general the interactions between Aschenbrödel and the price. It’s just too cute.”

The ex-rock star’s voice was mellow, and his hand clasped in Apollo’s, as he ended with his analysis Apollo realized. Fondly he tilted his head to the side and softly brushed Klavier’s bangs behind his ear.

“It’s cute how much you like this movie”, Apollo smiled and kissed Klavier, as he looked at him.

Klavier enjoyed the feeling of Apollo’s peachy lips on his but cautiously broke the kiss of with a smile. He had something else on his mind right now. But – it was not the time for that.

“Well, it is a good movie after all. But not perfect. I mean, there are things I would have liked to see in it but weren’t there”, Klavier brabbled and looked to the side.

That particular behaviour immediately got Apollo’s attention. Klavier did not tell him something and Apollo now was determined to find out what it was.

“What does it lack then?”

The hint of a blush was showing itself on Klavier’s cheeks and he started fumbling around with his bangs.

“Ach, well. It’s a bit cheesy, you see. Promise you won’t laugh, would you?”

Apollo smiled amused and said: “I promise. Now go on! I’m getting impatient!”

“Schon gut! I’m telling you already. So, you know normally in fairy-tale movies it’s quite common that you see the happily-ever-after-couple marry on screen. And they don’t show that here and it always gets me that we won’t see their wedding. I mean, look at them! They are so perfect together and their wedding would be beautiful, especially with this music and the dresses and – Hey you promised you would not laugh!”, Klavier whined and hit Apollo in the upper arm as the latter one had started to giggle.

Defensively Apollo lifted his arms to protect himself from other attack of the prosecutor and said still laughing: “Oh come on Klav! I’m not making fun of you! You’re just too pure and a hopelessly romantic. I love it.”

And with that he caught his boyfriend’s hands and kissed the blond’s cheek. And there Klavier felt his heart rate speed up. He lost himself in Apollo’s grand brown eyes and realized that a spurt of courage was welling up inside of his chest. He blinked confused for several times, ignoring Apollo’s slightly worried look, and then suddenly knew that he was about to say something that he had not planned to say until tomorrow.

“Uhm, it’s – it’s okay”, Klavier said putting his hands in his lap and relaxing his shoulders a bit.

“Klav…? Are you okay? I really did not want to offend you and I’m sorry if I did. I’ll be more considerate in the future.”

Klavier cracked a smile and took Apollo’s hand to calm him.

“No, no. It’s alright. I knew that you’re not the romantic type, so I guess weddings are rather… silly to you.”

Apollo furrowed his eyebrows and subconsciously shook his head as he heard that. With conviction he said: “That’s simply not true!”

At that Klavier raised his eyebrows in disbelief and Apollo puffed his cheeks as a response.

“I’m sorry but I know few people that are even less romantic than you, Schatz.”

“Well, okay”, the red lawyer said and threw his arm in the air, “I’m not really romantic, true that. But I don’t think that weddings are silly. I mean, maybe a little, but they lead to marriage and that’s something pretty awesome. I mean it can be really awesome, if the right people-“ “Like us”

“What was that?”

“Nothing! Go on!” That had not been smooth Klavier Gavin. Not at all.

Apollo squinted his eyes and slowly continued: “And as I said, if the right people find each other and are willing to work together, then marriage can be something great. So, and now what did you say and why are you talking about weddings?”

“Would you believe me if I’d tell you that the lack of the wedding scene in the movie just railed me up a lot?”, Klavier tried with a hopeful grin.

Deadpanned Apollo lifted his wrist and pointed to the golden bracelet. Dammit. Klavier let out a tired huff and scratched his neck, while shyly glancing at his boyfriend.

“I have been thinking-”

“That’s never a good starter.”

“Oh, just let me finish! I have been thinking about marrying and stuff. I know it’s completely inappropriate right now, you being in Khura’in and staying there for the time being, me being here and us being together for not even a year at this point, but I’m still thinking about it. Ich liebe dich über alles, and I appreciate our time together more that I can explain – He started fumbling with his rings and glanced up between them and Apollo – I believe in us and I do not want to let go of you ever again. The idea of planning a ceremony for the two of us, celebrating our future life together with all our friends, it sounds so appealing and perfect to me. But I know I overdo it and I can’t just phantasies about it, since it is your choice as well and I feel silly for it and-“

“You were thinking about our wedding?”, Apollo stopped him.

Klavier looked at him and cautiously nodded: “Yes, I did.”

Apollo remained silent for solid twenty seconds. Then he opened his mouth a few times without making a sound. And then he finally managed to say: “You feel silly because you think that I do not like weddings and you want one? I – Where is this coming from? And why did you not just ask, if I am against marriage? I mean it’s not like I would leave you because of this question–“

“Then you could imagine marrying me?”, Klavier said with hopeful puppy-dog-eyes.

“Yeah, one day, sure. I love you and I want to be with you just as much as you do, so you don’t need to worry about it any longer. But why were you worrying about it in the first place? We were nowhere near wedding stuff the last time we talked about us, right? Or was I oblivious again? Oh, please tell me I did not miss something important!”

A bit forceful Klavier squeezed Apollo’s upper arm and told him: “No, no! You overlooked nothing. It’s – it’s just been on my mind lately. Because of Herr Edgeworth’s wedding plans with your ex-boss and the movie, I guess. But it didn’t leave me. The thought stayed with me and I really started thinking about it and started to plan some stuff and now – He let go of Apollo and stood up to walk in circles and scratch his forehead in disbelief – that planning was for naught. I feel so childish right now.”

Klavier walked over to a drawer, where he usually put notes and music sheets and all the stuff he was working on and opened it. Apollo could not see what he was taking out of it, but it did not bother him anyway. He was way too focused on making sense out of Klavier’s words and said: “Wait, I don’t get it. You planned to ask me about my opinion of marrying? Why would you want to plan that?”

And with that Klavier turned and stared and Apollo with a blank face. Had he… had he actually not understood that Klavier was…

“No, I planned to propose to you, Herr Forehead.”

With a sigh Klavier looked to the floor and did not notice how Apollo stood up and started to walk over to him.

“I mean, I now I know that you are not against it, but not now, what is fine. I mean, I would not have wanted to get married now that you are thousands of miles away, but I really had a plan laid out for tomorrow with a nice dinner at home, because I would not want to pressure you with other people watching us in public, so I could ask you, if you want to marry me” - “Yes” - “I had a song prepared, a menu. I had even written some possible things for saying to you” – “YES” – “But now this is just embarrassing and –“

Violently Apollo cupped Klavier’s cheeks to make the man finally stop monologuing. Confused Klavier looked at him, not sure what was just happening. His boyfriend was smiling widely, something awfully shiny glimmering in his eyes. Wait. Had he – While he had been talking –

“Klavier, you’re as fucking dense as I am!”, Apollo laughed and saw Klavier’s eyes lighting up. “I said yes! Yes, I wanna fucking marry you, you idiot!”

Eagerly Apollo stood on his toes and kissed his stupid, blond now-fiancée. And after a second of pure delight and shock Klavier kissed back only to start laughing shockingly. Apollo tuned in and pulled him back to the couch, so he could sit down and calm himself a bit.

After several moments and some soft and slightly misguided kisses on various parts on everything above the neck Klavier had found himself saying: “But I thought you weren’t ready for marriage right away? You just said one day, didn’t you?”

Apollo laughed and answered, while caressing Klavier’s arm gently: “Yeah, but you said it yourself. We are not going to get married as long as I’m in Khura’in. I know it will take a while until I come back, and when it the time comes, I’ll be ready. We’ll be ready. And Holy Mother, I did not think I’d be so fucking excited to know that this day would be coming.”

They laughed and let their foreheads touch. Eventually Apollo laid back and raised his eyebrows teasingly.

“For somebody who had planned everything for proposing to me, you forgot a pretty important part.”

“And that is?”, Klavier asked playfully shocked.

“The ring, genius.”

And there it was. The so much dreaded smirk of Klavier Gavin. Slowly, he lifted his left hand and Apollo spotted a small, black box.

“What did you think did I get out of the drawer, mein Sonnenschein?”, Klavier teased and opened the box.

A thin, golden ring was in it. Wide eyed Apollo gawked at it. Then he looked up at Klavier who looked smugly at his fiancée and winked victoriously.

“Are you gonna put it on me or do I need to stare at it until it hops on my finger?”

Klavier chuckled, took the ring out of the box and grabbed Apollo’s hand. With a amused huff he slid the golden ring on Apollo’s finger and whispered lovingly: “You’re absolutely terrible, Apollo Justice and I love it.”

Link There are three more chapters.

[moonlightsbeams]

Beauty and the Beast AU

Jumin Han x Reader

A long, long time ago, in the depths of Korea, there lived a price in a shining castle. The prince had everything he could ever wish for, but he was cold and wicked of heart. One cruel winter’s night, a simple beggar woman came to his castle, asking for shelter from the raging storm. As payment, she offered him a single red rose.

The prince, disgusted by her haggard appearance, mocked her and cast her away. The woman advised him to not be misled by appearances, and gave him a second chance. When he rejected her yet again, the crone shed her twisted appearance to become a beautiful sorceress. The prince pleaded for her forgiveness, but the sorceress had already seen that his heart contained no love, and placed her punishment upon him. She twisted his body into an unrecognizable form, and placed a curse upon the inhabitants of the castle.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the beast concealed himself  inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window the outside world.  The rose she had offered was truly an

enchanted rose, which would bloom for years to come.  If he could learn to love another, and earn her love in return by the time the last petal fell, then the spell would be broken.  If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.  As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?

{Your POV}

Sun streams through a small window, and into your face. You grumble a bit, but eventually pull yourself out of bed. Quickly dressing yourself into a simple blue and white cloth dress, you grab a basket with some coins, your latest book and rush out the door.

You stand in front of the grand village clock, waiting for the clock strike 8, enjoying the peace and quiet before..

“Annyeonghaseyo!”

“Annyeonghaseyo!”

“Annyeonghaseyo!”

“Annyeonghaseyo!”

The town erupts into movement, everyone is moving, talking, arguing, and laughing. You slide throughout the crowds, your book clutched close to your chest. The village baker, famous for his bread shaped like fish, carries a tray of the same bread he always has. You approach him, a coin in hand.

The man smiles, his teeth unearthing from his bushy beard. “Good morning, (Y/N)! And where might you be going to this morning?”

You smile dreamily as you pay for the bread. “The library! Oh, I just finished the most thrilling novel about two tragic lovers in Verona.”

The baker shakes his head. “Lovely.” He turns away to yell, “Minji, the soboro-ppang! Hurry up!”

You finish your bread as you arrive at the small library, and rush in. The librarian, a hunched old man, chuckles as soon as he sees you. “Ah, (Y/N) a pleasure as always to see you.”

“I’ve come to return the book I borrowed.” you quip as you tenderly place the book back in its place.

“Already? But you just got it yesterday!”

“I know, but I couldn’t put it down! Do you have anything new?”

“Not since yesterday, (Y/N).”

You run your fingers along the spines of the books, landing on a familiar book.  

“That’s fine, I’ll just do this one!”

“Oh, but you’ve read it so many times!”

“But it’s my favorite,” you exclaim, dancing around the room. “Far off places, thrilling sword fights, a lover in disguise!”

The librarian chuckles, and waves goodbye as you leave.

As you briskly walk to the town square fountain to read, you hear the gossiping of people around you.

“There goes (Y/N), a book in hand as usual.”

“She’s absolutely stunning~”

“True, but behind that fair facade, she’s rather peculiar.”

“You’re right, she’s different from the rest of us..”

You ignore their words and settle down on the fountain to devour the book.

Meanwhile, across the square, a large, beefy man shoots a large goose out of the sky, and his assistant, a brunette woman unfortunately clad in a short pencil skirt and large high heels chases after the goose, having it fall on her face and knock her onto ground. The man, dressed in a red and yellow suit, scoffs at the woman.

“Glam get up, we don’t have all day. You’re so embarrassing sometimes.” He then turns to to admire himself in a mirror placed nearby.

“I’m so sorry, Chairman Han, it won’t happen again. You’re the greatest hunter in the world!” Glam cheers, getting up without help from the vain man. “No beast stands a chance against, and no girl either!”

“That’s right, and that’s why I have my sights set on that one!” he exclaims, extending a finger to point at you enjoying your book. “The lucky girl I am going to marry!”

“The wacky inventor’s daughter? Couldn’t you pick someone more…refined?” Glam asks as she leans close to Chairman Han, fluttering her eyelashes.

Chairman Han merely scoffs, and pushes her away. “She’s the most beautiful woman in town, which makes her the best.” He then towers above Glam, making her curl into herself. “And don’t I deserve the best?”

“Of course!” Glam squeaks, getting thrown to the side, by Chairman Han sweeping forward to chase after you, knocking people out of the way in a futile attempt to catch up.

You pay no attention to the man’s shouts of “Make way!” “Please let me through!” underneath all of the hustle and bustle of the town around you. Finally he catches up to you, and grabs your book out of your hand. You sigh, and bend to pick it up, but Chairman Han beats you to it, holding your beloved novel at a distance, disgusted.

“Why hello, (Y/N)~” Chairman Han purrs.

You try to inch away from him, but still try to grab your book back. “Annyeonghaseyo, Chairman Han. May I please have my book back?”

Chairman Han rolls his eyes and peers at the book. “(Y/N), how do you read this? There are no pictures!”

“Well, some people can actually use their imagination.”

“(Y/N), it is time for you to get your cute little nose out of those books,” he exclaims as he proceeds to throw the book in the mud, “And pay attention to far more important things.. Like me!”

You immediately snatch your book and begin to clean it, while half-heartedly listening to Chairman Han’s speech. “All the town's talking about it! It’s not right for a woman to read, and soon she’ll be getting ideas!”

“Chairman Han, you are absolutely primitive!”  

“Thank you!” he exclaims, swinging an arm around you, completely oblivious to how uncomfortable you are. “(Y/N), what do you say we walk on over to the tavern, and look at some of my hunting trophies, eh?”

“Maybe some other time,” you mutter, as you wiggle out of his grasp, and quickly run away to your house, leaving a fuming Chairman Han behind.

You rush into your home, and slam and lock the heavy wood door. You breathe a sigh of relief, and quietly walk over to your father’s room. He quietly works on a clockwork machine, one of his specialties, and hums a tune. You smile, and sneak over. “Papa!” You say in a sing song voice, leaning over to hand him a gear. “How’s the project going?”

He smiles softly, and places the gear in its place. “It’s going slow, but at least it’s almost done. (Y/N), could you hand me..” He trails off as you hand him the piece. “And the… No I don’t need that… Actually..” He makes the final touches, and leans back to admire his piece. A clockwork house featuring a spinning woman holding a child, a painter with a moving arm, and moving plants, set to the tune of a old folk song.

You beam, and hug your father tight. “It’s amazing, Papa!I knew you could do it!”

He returns the hug, squeezing you tight. “Thank you my dear.” He immediately begins to pack for the journey ahead, wrapping his creation in a soft blanket. You help by packing a basket full of food, and carrying it out to the wagon. Your father sets up, ready to go, and then looks down at you. “What may I bring you from the market?”

You let a small smile spread across your face. “Please bring me a rose.”

“Oh, (Y/N), you ask for that every year.”

“I know.”

He shakes his head, kisses the top of your head, and rides off.

{Unknown POV}

I stand alone, draped in darkness. A crack of thunder, then lighting, sending a flash of light across my grinning face. I can sense the approaching man, desperate to escape the roaring storm. He will not know where to go, the road to the market is so, so long.

He will not survive. However, another road, a hidden road, will lead him quickly to shelter. But who will show him the way?

It will be I, I shall give him what he needs and I will get what I deserve, and if all goes well?

The beast, in his lonely prison will receive what he desires.

The man appears, soaked from the pouring rain. I quickly throw on a face, a face of a weary traveller. “You won’t make it that way,” I roar over the rain. “Take the road to the left! There’s shelter after a short walk!” He hesitates, so I take the lead, throw an arm up, and yell, “Follow me!”

As he follows, desperate to escape, I attempt to mask the smile spreading across my face. We reach the castle, and I gesture to a stable for his horse, and the grand doors, looming ahead. He rushes in, and I make quick work of unhooking his horse from the wagon.

I stare at him, waiting for him to close the doors, and allow the smile to spread across my face.

“Th

A

Nk

you.”

[arthurmorganthings]

Red Roses.

Pairing: Lenny x Sonia

Summary: Lenny Summers spends Valentines Day with an old fling.

Warning: mentions of sexual content, slut-shaming, mentions of racism/lynching. ANGST.

She’d known he was coming by the context of his letter. His messy manuscript was hard not to miss either, it was so difficult to decipher some of his words but knew just what would get Sonia to capitulate to him all over again.

I’m in Blackwater. Since bad business in the territory of Lemoyne, I had to cut off all contact with you Sonia. Them crackas was gonna have me swing for a justifiable crime—you know better than anybody the law is never in our favor. But I do wish to see you with what time I have left. And so please consider disappearing with me, I don’t wish to have you working saloons anymore. I do however, want to build life with you.

- L.S.

He never did learn to write properly but the simplicity of his letter was enough. Straightening the creases of her skirt, Sonia placed a cigarette to her soft lips. She poised herself diligently near the stair’s banister that led to a game of blackjack upstairs, the other working girls began the day shift in lieu of Sonia.

She waited, keeping men warm in exchange while passing the day. Her heart still so content on seeing an old companion she knew since they were beggars in Lagras.

How she missed being a country girl, in spite of the marsh being humid and full of snakes. Momma did say not to venture out to far, she always did anyways. Lenny was never as daring as she was back then—she missed Lagras.

Here, she has her fair share of racism, however, to most that were passing through from other countries—Sonia was a rare flower ready for spring, and at its peak, is when the flower blooms.

Had she learned the art of opening up, she’d then can agree with the stranger—Sonia was blinded by her own beauty.

Nightfall taints the sky and still no sign of Lenny Summers. Sonia placed herself at the bar, drowning her woes at the bottom of a bottle. Just as she placed another quarter for more alcohol, a calloused palm was placed gingerly onto her’s—his lips grazing the shell of Sonia’s ears, enough to make hairs stand up.

“Since when have you become a drunken fool?”

No doubt in her mind at all, it was him. Still as arrogant since days in the Bayou, she seen right through him, “Since when did outlaws became so confident?” Her response earned her a chuckle. She glanced at him for a moment, noticing the small changes in his vabrato alongside the structure of his jawline. He was on the cusp of becoming a man.

He sat next to Sonia. “Happy Valentine’s day, my beloved.”

How could she forget? Valentine’s Day. Legs pried open by strangers, she began to desensitized herself to it. She sighs, ordering two whiskeys—on the rocks.

“I don’t celebrate shit.”

“So you gone leave a brotha’s bed cold on the only night I get to see you?”

“You so set on thinking I’ll lay you, it’s incessant. You sure becoming a bandit ain’t get to your head?”

Lenny laughs wholeheartedly. “I still see you can’t take satire, as much as what we used to do back in the marsh. It’s insessant.”

Sonia blinked as the barkeep coughs, awkwardly handing Sonia her drinks. She passes a glass, and in tandem they cheer—to the life they lead.

The pungent taste of liquid engrossed in her tongue and throat, Sonia was never one for hard liquor anyways. A beat of silence ensued as Lenny spoke, “You remember the first time, after you came home from Sunday school, you came over to my house a—“

“Lenny.”

“Hold on. Let me finish, you came over, complaining about how God wasn’t white, she was Palestinian.” His laugh was insufferable, causing Sonia to look down so he couldn’t see her blush.

“She wasn’t. God is a woman.”

“Yeah. And I’m the president of the United States.”

“Lenny, you mean to tell me a black man isn’t capable of leadin’ a country?”

Lenny was speechless at the rhetorical question. He gulped down the rest of his drink, pondering. “Maybe when we’re all dead there’ll be a time when we can dream that big. But I can’t see it now Sonia.”

Her gaze softens, a bit disheartened and dejected, “Lenny.” She closes the distance, her forehead touching his as he closes his eyes, “Why you gotta think like that Lenny? Ain’t a damn thing a White man couldn’t be able to do without a black man’s bluprint.”

His lips danced around her neck, softly licking at the nape as Sonia’s hairs stood, “I—I don’t have much to lose anymore. I only ask that you make this Valentine’s Day alive for me.”

“Lenny you know you’re gonna hurt me in the process.”

“You serious Sonia? I’m in love with you.” He looked around to see if others were listening in before his voice dropped a few octaves.

“You’re the mother of my child.”

“You gotta keep remindin’ me of that? He’s MY son too. I was eighteen.”

“How many times I gotta prove to you that I’m a changed man Sonia? I wanna see my son!” His voice projecting causing Sonia to look around embarrassingly.

“You’ll see your son, I just want you to stop. This.” She gestures disgustingly. As if being in a gang projects more about his morality than being a working girl. This fumed Lenny.

He grew quiet, scoffing. He flung a bouquet of roses in front of her, meaning to surprise her, had this went correctly. Lenny stared shamefully, nose flared, “And I guess you made a name for yourself whorin.’ Don’t ever judge what you don’t know, woman.”

He couldn’t look at her anymore, the same woman he’d fell head-over heels with back when she was in rags, he grew to look at with disdain—in the finest clothing. What a waste of a beautiful woman.

He sauntered out of the bar, before mounting his horse he felt a grab onto his arm. He looked over to see Sonia, tears filled to the brim of her eyes. Lenny frowned. “Let me go woman.”

“Please don’t do this Lenny. You know that life ain’t for me.”

“So the life you lead is?” He inquired, still angry. “You know you always was the sortin’ type for smarts. You shoulda’ stayed in school.”

“I want my son with me.” He adds. “I don’t want him being raised by you.”

Sonia’s eyes widened, had he known the weight of his words, had he held a baby for nine months without the help of a man, had he KNOWN.

He’d feel how she felt. “Just a few minutes ago you wanted to be with me. You wanted me to, lay you.”

“That’s before I figured the type of woman you are. You hurt people, but you can’t help it can’t you, Sonia?”

A beat followed, she never meant to hurt anyone. This wasn’t how Valentine’s Day was supposed to end. They both knew it.

Lenny spoke again, “I wanted to make sweet love to you girl, to make you relive feelings I thought you had. I must still be a fool for you.”

She seen it in the way he looked at her, Lenny was done waiting for a woman that had no intentions of being with him. Sonia still remembers the sheets she laid in when it all happened. As he rode off Sonia recalls everything.

Though penniless, Lenny somehow managed, a price on his head, to get them both a room in Rhodes—last Valentine’s Day.

She was a fool for letting him go.

Had only roses taught her the art of opening up, he’d stay.

Maybe.

-

PART 2, MAYBE LOL. THIS IS FOR MY BBY @famderlinde 💗💗💗 HAPPY VALENTINES DAY LOVELY

[ecampbellsoup]

Outlander Moments of Impact: I Decided to Trust You Instead

When one falls in love, there is a desire to be known. You not only seek to be intimately aware of your beloved, but you yearn for the reciprocity of knowledge:

That you would be seen as you are for who you are.

But in order for this to be possible, there must be a transfer of trust. A moment when you choose to expose yourself—in your rawest form. For only then can you know that the love returned is true.

Jamie Fraser makes such a declaration of self to Mistress Beauchamp in 1x2 “Castle Leoch”

Let’s break down this scene for some context, shall we?

Claire seeks Jamie out during the day to bring him some bandages and a wee bite to eat. 

As she approaches the stable where Jamie is working, she pauses and smiles at the young lad training the horses. He is mesmerizing to watch. 

Accidentally knocking into something, Claire startles the horse. Helpless to stop the creature, she stands there terrified. 

 Spooked, the horse lunges into the air violently at Jamie.

Startled and to avoid a nasty kick, Jamie falls against the fence.

Jamie yells in Gaelic and rips the sling off his injured arm. Turning around to see what caused the ruckus, the second he spots Claire, his entire demeanor changes. Claire begins to apologize, “I’m so sorry about that.”

And an earth-shattering grin spreads across his entire face. Jamie quickly excuses the horse, “She’s just a girl with spirit is all…and that’s always a good thing.” (I have a wee inclination to believe Jamie is referring to more than just the horse *cough Claire cough*)

Then inquiring, “What can I do for you, Mistress Beauchamp?”

Smiling, Claire gestures to the basket she holds, clarifying, “It’s what I can do for you. Some fresh bandages and some lunch.” Face shining, clearly delighted with the idea, Jamie agrees, “Aye.”

And they sit, sharing each other’s company.

Practically inhaling his meal, Claire teases him a bit pointing out, “Quite the appetite. I should think you’d eat grass if there was nothing else.” 

Jamie concurs and then states he reveals, “I have. Doesna taste bad but it’s not very filling.” Slightly shocked, Claire incredulously asks, “You’ve actually eaten grass?”

Eyes lit up with humor, Jamie can sense Claire is waiting to hear the story behind such a claim. So he shares: “Mhmm. The winter. Year before last. I was living rough ye know, in the woods wi’ a group of lads, raiding cattle. We’d had poor luck for a week or more and no food among us left.”

Shaking her head, her voice laced with a hint of judgment, Claire responds, “One might ask why you were raiding cattle and living the life of a thief instead of tending to your own farm.”

This comment stops Jamie cold for a second. It’s clear her opinion matters to this young lad—and she doesn’t express a very high one of him just then.

Making a deliberate choice to be honest, Jamie states, “There’s a price on my head. 10 pounds sterling. A farmer’s whole year in these parts.” 

He owns the fact that he is a criminal bearing an exorbitant price on his head. Claire sits quietly yet the surprise creeps into her face. Perhaps she’d misjudged him. “Seems excessive for a single escaped prisoner.”

With a wee grin, Jamie continues, “No, not for escape. For murder.”

Delving in further, “But I didn’t actually kill the man I’m wanted for.” A bit bewildered, Claire reacts, “You’re a very complicated man, Mr. MacTavish.” Watching her intently he laughs denying it.

Jamie then shares the necessary details of another part of his story with this englishwoman, a stranger.

Piecing things together, “I take it your real name’s not Mr. MacTavish.” Jamie confirms, “No. No, it’s not.” Smiling to herself, Claire offers, “A ‘nom de guerre’ as it were.” A name of war. Chuckling Jamie affirms, “Aye, if ye like.”

When he finishes, he elaborates to her the gravity of what he has just revealed—it is worth the protection of his own life. 

Acknowledging this, Claire seeks to know why Jamie shares this with her then; he could have simply lied. “Why did you tell me?” Why of all people would you trust an english-woman whom everyone assumes to be a spy?

As if he could do nothing else, Jamie says, “Ye asked.” Not letting him off that easy Claire contradicts, “That’s no answer. You could’ve lied. Or told me it was none of my business.” 

Responding in candor he says, “I decided to trust you instead.”

Suddenly interrupted by Alec, Jamie realizes he must part from Claire.

Needing to return to tend to the horses, they bid farewell. “Thank you for the food and the uh—” Thank you for be trustworthy; for being here with me.

Poking at him a little Claire retorts, “Just try not to get flogged it’s stabbed today. That’ll be thanks enough.” Playing along, Jamie offers, “No promises, Sassenach.” They stand there basking in their own private joke and the budding intimacy growing between them. 

This revelation of “life on the run” leads to a fork in the road—Jamie can either share with Claire or he can shield himself away.

Jamie’s life truly hangs in the balance. If the wrong person were to attain information of his true identity or his location, it would be catastrophic.

He would be sold for a price.

He would be captured.

And the rest of his fate is left up to the horrors of the imagination of Black Jack Randall…

And yet, on a rainy day, in the middle of a barn, Jamie offers the most valuable thing he can to a enigmatic Sassenach: 

THE TRUTH.

He tells her the truth.

He does not hide behind a veil of mystery.

He does not lie to project a false-self. 

He shares details about his life that are not only difficult to swallow, but incriminate him.

Why would Jamie do such a thing? 

Why would he subject himself to the mercy of an Englishwoman? 

Why would he place his own safety in the hands of a person everyone deems untrustworthy?

Because love does not withhold from the beloved.

Does he share everything? No…not yet. But that is simply a matter of timing, not vanity. However, Jamie does make himself known. Exposing himself to not only the dangers of being captured, but also the risk of being rejected.

Jamie has no assurance of how Claire will receive this secret. He has no comprehension of how she will react. He has no security of her sentiments.

He genuinely is choosing to believe the best of her having no guarantee of how this will affect their relationship moving forward. 

But love does not conceal. 

To love is vulnerability. Love is willing to let the dark part of the human heart be exposed because we can only be as fully loved as we are fully known. This is exactly what Jamie chooses to offer to Claire: the raw reality of who he is and his circumstances. 

This young lad offers his story to a young woman hoping, trusting that she is indeed worthy of it as he believes with every fiber of his bones her to be.

There is all manner of risk in choosing to love.

[certifiedskywalker]

Powerful - Jaime Lannister (Part Two)

After losing his children, his family, he couldn’t lose you. However, leaving with you also meant angering an already testy Queen. Cersei had turned vile with her new found power; her heart tormented by the same loss that plagued Jaime himself. Whatever path he chose lead to danger; but whatever path he chose also shone with the hope of possible love.

Part One

The halls of the Red Keep had become all too familiar to Jaime’s eyes. He longed to ride West, with you beside him, and pay a visit to Casterly Rock. After all that had happened, Jaime thought he deserved a rest from the horrid politics of King's Landing. Let Qyburn aid his sister in the trying times to come while he returned home.

Jaime’s desire to go home was soon replaced by a different want. He looked up at The Mountain, who stood outside Cersei’s door. From the open spots for his field of vision, the pale purple skin surrounding the late Gregor’s blood shot eyes was visible. Under the creature's gaze, Jaime tried his best to seem unintimidated.

“I wish to see my sister,” Jaime said strongly. Silently, The Mountain moved away from the door and let Jaime push through. As he glanced around the room, Jaime saw no sign of his beloved sister anywhere. Papers were scattered on her desk; letters and pleads alike. Jaime looked over his shoulder briefly, his eyes landing on The Mountain, who loomed in the doorway.

Turning away from the desk, Jaime walked out towards the balcony. He stood in the entrance when he saw his sister looking out to where the Great Sept of Baelor once stood. A chill ran down his spine at Cersei’s reflective silence. Burn them all, the Mad King had said. His long lasting order had finally come to fruition.

“All of our enemies,” she whispered, “gone in one spark.” Jaime shook his head and Cersei turned to face him. Her green eyes were serious, yet joyful all at once. “The Targaryen girl will fall. She is young and foolish. As mad as her father if she thinks she can walked into a lion’s den unscathed.” Jaime smiled at his sister’s ferocity, but knew that The Last Dragon still posed a threat to Cersei’s new found power.

“She has the backing of House Tyrell and the whole of Dorne. Does that not frighten you in the least?” Cersei stiffened at his words, holding her chin high. Jaime looked her dead in the eye, waiting for her answer. A simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ would tell him more than a lengthy conversation. His sister’s eyes narrowed at him, as if challenging him.

“They are no threat to us,” she said coldly. Jaime’s blood ran cold. Cersei without fear was perhaps more dangerous than when she was cornered. It was the Mad King, the man Jaime killed, that feared nothing. That fought and killed without thought of the price.

“No threat to you,” Jaime corrected. “What of the North, the Stark bastard doesn’t frighten you?” Cersei stepped towards him, her face a mere inches from his own. Jaime clenched his jaw, fighting against the closeness.

“All the Knights in the Vale don’t scare me,” Cersei hissed. “For I am the Queen of The Seven Kingdoms. I have nothing to fear.” She leaned closer, reaching a hand up to trace his jaw. Before she could place her lips on his, Jaime backed away.

“A ruler that acts without fear is no leader at all. Aerys feared only the voices in his head.” Cersei’s gaze enflamed at his words. Jaime had only seen such angry in her eyes when Tyrion was on trial for Joffrey's murder and when he aided in his little brother’s escape. Her hate had turned her inside out and dressed her in darkness.

“How dare you speak to your Queen, your sister, like that.” Jaime frowned but didn’t move any further. Silence fell over them, neither of them wavering.

“How dare you speak to Y/N as you did,” Jaime countered. “She has been loyal to our family for ages. She mourned our children at our your sides, mourned our father. Despite it all, you treat her like she’s nothing to us.”

“She’s nothing to me,” Cersei seethed, “it is you she cared for, not I.” Jaime let out a breath, knowing Cersei’s words were true. Y/N tolerated his sister, cared for her only to make things easier for herself; not a true friend. Cersei hardly ever had any friends, even as a child.

“She is a trusted ally, nonetheless,” Jaime responded. “To make sure it stays that way, I will be accompanying her to the Westerlands.” Cersei’s nostrils flared with rage at his words; and for the first time, Jaime took pride in her fury.

“Go then,” Cersei spat, ‘go and wed her at Casterly Rock. Bed her and make heirs with a vassal house girl.” Jaime felt his blood boil at her words towards you. He turned away, taking long a long stride towards the door before Cersei called out.

“If you have any love for me, any love for our lost children, you will stay in King’s Landing at my side.” Jaime stopped and turned to glance over his shoulder. His eyes locked with his sister, but he didn’t see the woman he loved. She would be nearing the gates of King’s Landing by now; he had to go if he were to make it in time.

“I loved my children,” Jaime said sadly, “my greatest wish was to be a father to them. But you, and your thirst for power, doomed them before I had the chance.” Cersei swallowed hard, but Jaime continued. “My love for you faded when you murdered the people I was sworn to protect. You killed our son’s wife and he died due to grief. Your hands are just as bloody as my own.” With that, Jaime stormed out of Cersei’s room and down the hall. His gold, Lannister armor clinking as he left Cersei in her dark gown; the desire to be hers fading from his heart.

You gently patted your horse’s neck, it’s soft fur hiding the strong muscle underneath. A few smallfolk filled your cart with armor and swords, for the ranks of men in the West. While this trip was a supply run, it doubled as a diplomatic mission to deal with House Lefford. The Golden Tooth castle was home to the unruly house; they often quarreled with House Lannister despite being under the lion’s boot. The Riverlords still held a fighting spirit.

“She’s a fine beast,” you turned your head and your heart skipped a beat. Jaime stood before you, his head cocked to the side with a soft smile on his features. Your thoughts of the ordeal at hand passed when you met his eyes. You walked up to him, looking up at him earnestly. “I hope that there is some way you can forgive all the times I looked over you. I wanted to tell you that I-”

You silenced him by wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms found a resting place around your waist, holding you close to his larger frame. Jaime buried his face in the crook of your neck, closing his eyes. After a long minute, your arms fell and your hands held the back of his neck. Jaime moved, leaning back to stare into your face.

“I have loved you for years, Jaime,” you whispered. “There is nothing to forgive, nothing at all.” The corner of Jaime’s mouth quirked upwards at your words. “I shouldn’t have made you choose, that was wrong of me.” you had more to say, things you wanted to make clear, but now it was your turn to be silenced. Jaime’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling your body flush against his own. His left hand moved up to your face, his palm brushing against your cheek. The tenderness in his warm touch made you melt.

“A woman should never apologize for being strong, for being powerful.” You smiled up at him and Jaime’s eyes said it all. He brought your face to his, capturing your lips in his. You hummed into kiss, your eyes shutting instinctively. The kiss was all you had dreamed of, the years of imagining what it would be like did not do it justice.

When he parted from your lips, you longed to return back to that moment; but Jaime seemed to have other ideas. He moved his hand back from your face to your middle and lifted you onto your horse. You smiled down at him as rested his hand against your hip.

“We have a long ride ahead us, my lady. We should be going.” You frowned, wishing to kiss him once more but you were high up to reach him. Jaime seemed to note this and grabbed your hand. “Once we reach Casterly Rock, there will be more time for that.”

“Yes there shall.” Jaime grinned at you, bringing your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, a lingering kiss. When he pulled away, there was a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“And as the Lord of Casterly Rock, I will need a true Lady. Perhaps there will be time for a wedding as well.” You felt heat climb to your cheeks, blushing a  deep red. “Would that please you, prove it to you?”

“It would, ser Jaime,” you teased. “Yet, don’t think for a moment I’ll surrender to being simply your wife.” Jaime shook his head with a grin on his lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my darling.” Jaime walked over to his dark stallion, hopping on it’s back. He knead it gently and the horse rode up next to yours. “You join the ranks of the mighty Lannister women and they will hear your roar.”

You smiled and kicked at your horse, sending it forward. You started after the cart of supplies. Soon, Jaime followed suit, happy to be rid of the Red Keep and the dark memories that still cling to the crimson bricks. He glanced over at you, smiling at you; and if he had ever been happy, it would be in that moment he was happiest.

[horse-farm-cheat]

Horse Farm Cheat

Horse Farm Cheat Download

Emily and her companions, like the winged horse, Pegasus, have to confront a legion of Olympic enemies in this third guide of an action-packed series. I Really like the sequence, but I'm dissatisfied with the ending of this guide. I go through Each book, and the collection is fairly wonderful, except Horse Farm Cheat Tool for a handful of items. Unfortunately, Nobody looks to like the sequence, they say that the writer, Kate 'Hearn, stole from the idea of Percy Jackson, which is NOT accurate (I presently study all of Riordan's textbooks, as well).

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Kicked out of residence by his wife and concerned that he is about to become surplus to specifications at perform, Maserov seizes a dangerous opportunity when Malcolm Torrent, CEO of a powerful building organization, visits Maserov's feared boss, Mike Hamilton. 4 girls have lodged sexual harassment claims in opposition to Torrent Industries. When Hamilton dismisses the circumstances out of hand, Maserov accosts Torrent, promising to consider the circumstances far more severely and to make them go away. All he needs is one particular calendar year and secondment to his very own office in excess of at Torrent. The book's title will come from the parable of a jester fallen from the King's grace who buys himself some time by promising to make the King's horse talk inside a yr.

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Tory Bilski could have known as her effectively-prepared and witty memoir of using horses in northern Iceland Wild Horses of the Midnight Sunshine,” but in naming it Wild Horses of the Summer Sun,” shows her writing creds: the alliteration successfully performs on the well-liked picture a lot of men and women associate with this starkly beautiful land of lupine fields and black volcanic sand banking companies - not to mention Johnny Mercer's lyrics in that aged jazz regular, Midnight Sunshine.” Like Mercer, Bilski evokes a nostalgic warmth Horse Farm Cheat for what is absent but indelibly remembered due to the fact it was so affecting. The only way to go away a evaluation is to 1st make a booking. Which is how we know our reviews occur from real visitors who have stayed at the residence. Revolves all around the correct story of a fateful evening in August 1985 when 5 associates of the same family members are murdered at an Essex farmhouse, and the ensuing law enforcement investigation and court docket situation that follows.

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[mdwatchestv]

Game of Thrones 7x06: Run Joe, Run

Woo boy that was A LOT. Like a lot, a lot. In so many different ways. I would even go so far as to describe some elements as 'extra'. Yes there was excitement, action, and feels. I even admit to screaming bloody murder when the zombie bear came from a direction I didn't expect. But when all was said and done I couldn't help but feel a bit...used. This season, although boasting some great moments, has felt undeniably different than previous years. Instead of focussing on building out a world and the characters that inhabit it, the show is now rocketing towards a foregone conclusion. If the world of Game of Thrones is a chess board and we have spent the past several years watching knights and queens slowly slide around the squares jockeying for position, this season is the equivalent of knocking it all to the ground and letting the pieces literally fall where they may. Alternatively, if the world of Game of Thrones was a high-end Barbie collector's basement, this is the season his eight-year-old niece broke in, ripped 1993 Holiday Barbie out of her box and made her make out with 1960 1st edition Ken. And neither of those things are inherently bad, playing with dolls and knocking a boring game on the floor are both entertaining in and of themselves, but they are also a departure from what we have come to expect.

Before this season I never thought about things like "Wait- how many long miles IS Westeros? What is the land speed of a laden Raven? What's the MPH on a dragon? How long by air? How long by sea?" I wasn't worried about the logistics, the tech specs. We had other things to worry about, like battle strategies, familial strain, and tyrannical kings. But now it feels as if the curtain is starting to be pulled aside and we are for the first time seeing the mechanics at work behind the scenes. While there were thrills to be had in this super-sized penultimate outing of season seven, they came at a price. In the after-episode special Benioff and Weiss openly admitted to essentially reverse-engineering the entire episode in order to get the final shock of zombie dragon, rather than letting it be the consequence of an organic series of events. One of the reasons Game of Thrones works so well is that consequences, even the upsetting ones, feel earned. The Red Wedding, for example, tragic as it was, was ultimately palatable because it made sense in the larger story. It was the tangible result of a series of connectable actions, not a gambit for ratings. Often the killing of beloved characters leads fan to become disillusioned with a show because it's done in the service of shock value, rather than organic storytelling. But as major characters drop on Game of Thrones, it only acts to draw the audience in further because it’s done in a way that rewards previous storytelling. The idea that characters are existing in a real world with real stakes and consequences is compelling and rare. Up until this season Game of Thrones never had characters rendered immortal by their series regular contracts, or even clear-cut heroes and villains. Yes, we root for different characters and houses, but at this point no one has a clean moral conscious. Those qualities are exactly what made Game of Thrones so good, and what it is seemingly starting to lose.  It's worth pointing out that up until recently the show has had source material to rely on for guidance, and is now having to pick it's own path to the end. Viewer’s theories about the show’s endgame have become increasingly out there, perhaps in response to a world where outcome is not necessarily determined by prior events. For better or worse, anything is possible. 

This episode was some moments of interest strung together with moments of "what?!?!?". Let's begin. ZARTF (Zombie Acquisition and Retrieval Task Force), as well as a few randos clearly marked for death, sally forth into the north. This whole episode gave me greatest hits of Lord of the Rings vibes, including "walking in a straight line across a mountain", "being rescued by a giant winged beast at the last second", and "rolling up half dead on a horse". I really gotta carve out 10 hours to rewatch those. To pass the time tromping through the snow our seven "heroes" try and work through their daddy issues (a little late imo), and Jon makes a half-assed attempt to give Longclaw back to Jorah (conveniently failing to mention it's like the only thing that kills White Walkers). The first sign of trouble comes when the group is set upon by a zombie bear! You hate to see that. Some of the red shirts are killed, Top Knot McGillicutty is wounded, and Jorah saves the day with his dragon glass dagger. Which I guess they all have? Or just Jorah? Unclear. This scene is what we like to call in the biz a foreshadowing.

Meanwhile in Dragonstone Dany is mooning over Jon Snow, even though he is a short stack (he IS super little) and ignores Tyrion who is attempting to invent democracy. In their exchange it's reiterated that Dany can never have babies (beyond her dragon babies), making a potential hold on the Iron Throne tenuous at best (Jon is still the *true* heir, but doesn't seem like Bran is going to tell anyone that anytime soon). Dany would rather not talk about any of that though, and would rather crush/not crush on the King of the Short. Speaking of women on the edge, the Sisters Stark are also failing to see eye to eye. After discovering Arya's BAG OF FACES (I have so many questions about the logistics of face wearing, but I am simply too tired to get into it), Sansa is understandably concerned. These concerns are heightened when creepy-ass Arya pops in to play a decidedly threatening game of questions. Arya seems to think Sansa is out to usurp Jon because she is a Cersei-in-training. Sansa thinks Arya is a terrifying demon child. This is a relationship that has also become frustrating centering around a conflict that doesn't ring true. While it's true that Arya and Sansa have become very different young women, there is more that unites than divides them at this point and Arya's extreme aggression towards her sister feels unwarranted. The core characteristic of the Stark family is that they ARE the Stark family. Arya put aside her dreams of Cersei killing in order to reclaim her heritage, and with the pack dwindling the remaining wolves have to stick together now more than ever. Both of these women have been through extreme trauma, both of them have had to make unthinkable choices in order to survive, and both of them have been continually underestimated by their male cohorts. I'm not saying this is a relationship that should not be without conflict, but their animosity lacks nuance. Granted this show doesn't have a lot of experience with complicated female relationships, but Sansa and Arya attempting to reconnect as complex young women in a time of crisis feels like a real missed opportunity.

And I have seen the Twitter theories that say that the two girls are gaming Littlefinger together, that Sansa sending Brienne away (to an I think prematurely scheduled zombie viewing) right after Littlefinger advised her to use Brienne against Arya is concrete proof. As much as I hope this is all true, it just doesn't seem likely at this point. But maybe Sansa's bizarrely abrupt send off of her last loyal subject really was a clue to a larger plot, or maybe it's just an excuse to put Brienne back in Jaime's path to give him a last second shot of moral obligation. I would love nothing more for my pessimistic theories surrounding two of my long time favs to be proven wrong. These two characters, no matter their ultimate fate, deserve the chance at a final team up.

Back up north, our band of brothers conveniently stumble upon a manageable squadron of zombies led by a White Walker. After dispatching the Walker all the zombies but *one* turn into dust. The plan is going smoothly! However the last zombie calls the rest of the hoard and they are well and truly fucked. The group sends good old Gendry to run back to the Wall (an unknown distance) to raven Dany for help, while the rest of the pack becomes stranded on a rock in the middle of an ice lake surrounded by the entire undead army. Here's where I have questions. Question 1: If Ole One Eye and Top Knot McGee can make fire whenever they want, why cant they have a fire on the island? Or at least gather around one of the swords? Question 2: Can the zombies not use bows? It seems like our group would be pretty easy to take down with a couple dozen arrows. Question 3: How long are they waiting/expecting to wait? How long does it take for the raven to get to Dany? More questions to come later. Anyway Top Knot succumbs to his wounds, meaning that One Eye is now on his final life. The Hound, who was pretty useless most of this episode, continues to be useless by alerting the zombie hoard that the ice is safe to walk on. Our party engages in a seemingly hopeless battle against an untold number of assailants, hoping against hope for a dragony miracle to happen.

And it does! Dany swoops in with her brood in the last second, blasting the zombies with fire, and rocking a seriously fabulous white fur coat, to save the day! Not only is her winter wardrobe literally to die for, it also looks like she may have skinned Ghost to make it, symbolizing her new allegiance (romance?) with Jon. I also have to ask at this point why this wasn't the original plan. Dany made pretty good time getting up there, didn't have to tromp through the snow, and likely could have had Drogon pick up a zombie in his talons-  all in seemingly less than a day! But I guess that would have been much less macho than grimly marching through the snow. It looks like the tables have turned in favor of our hereos when suddenly....the Night King picks up an ice spear and takes out Viserion! Nooooo.

This was a genuinely heart-wrenching moment, as an audience we have watched Dany's dragons grow from hatchlings to giant death machines, and seeing one of them ripped out of the sky was just as painful as losing any beloved human character. Again this was a moment that delivered an emotional punch, but the journey to that payoff was not as satisfyingly authentic as it could have been. Jon, realizing the White Walkers are somehow ready for dragon combat, sacrifices himself so Drogon can take off with his payload safely. But it's an empty sacrifice, because Jon is last minute rescued by BENJEN STARK, who is part ice monster, part North of the Wall lifeguard, all Stark all the time. If you recall Benjen, or Cold Hands I guess is his nickname, previously came in for the save with his swinging lantern when he rescued Meera and Bran. But Benjen's last minute saving days are over as he is eaten by zombies in order to allow Jon to escape. Sad.

Back at the wall Dany ignores Daddy Jorah in favor of wistfully staring out over the tundra, hoping for Jon to appear. And appear he does! Jon is more than fine, especially shirtless and wrapped in furs on Dany's pleasure yacht. The two have some weird flirting where Dany reveals she can never have children, and Jon actually refers to her as 'Dany'. Good thing they are both so hot, because that banter wouldn't cut it anywhere else. Also she's his aunt. I simply cannot stress that enough.

As a final coda to this decades long episode, we see the Night Army dragging the corpse of Viserion out of the lake only to reanimate him into an ice zombie dragon! Gah! Shit is most definitely getting real, as the Night King adds some real power to his arsenal. Will zombie dragon still breathe fire? Ice? Freezing rain? Excited to find out. Next week (the season finale???) looks like it will be the zombie summit down in King's Landing. I have zero predictions for this. My only hope is that Euron will be there, I miss him. In a world of uncertainty, Euron brings the party.

Stuff I didn't get to:

Stop shipping Dany/Jon, START shipping Brienne/Beardy

They almost took Beardy from me after I SPECIFICALLY asked them not too.

Beardy learned the word dick <3

Beardy rode a dragon!!!

MVP: Beardy. I don't have to defend myself.

XO MD

[rebelbyrdie]

Swan Queen Storybits #3

Practical Magic - OUAT Story

Cursed

Once Upon A Time there was a Miller’s Daughter who had the gift of magic.  She was the most powerful witch in the colonies, it was rumored she had to power to control hearts.  People admired her beauty and feared her power.  She cared little for the opinions of others, though.  She had the power of magic and that was enough for her.  All magic, though, has a price.  Perhaps she could control hearts, but not her own.  One spring day, between storms, she fell in love and that was her undoing.

She fell in love, wonderfully and hopelessly in love, with a powerful man.  He was an elder in the Church and owned more land than they eye could see.  He owned ships and controlled trade.  He was handsome and kind to her.  He smiled when others scowled and tucked flowers behind her ear.  He was married to another woman, though.

Love, innocent and bright, over-rode her senses, and she was with him despite his wife. She thought that their love, true love, would protect them.  She thought he would protect her.  She thought he would protect them, when she found out she was with child.  

He did not.  

When the Church Elders interrogated her and branded her a harlot and worse, he stood with them, silent and disapproving.  He betrayed her.  He had never loved her.

She carried the child in sorrow and solitude.  When she gave birth her screams echoed in her late father’s empty hovel.  She gave birth to a little girl and her entire world changed. She had never known love, true love, until that moment.  She nursed her daughter and swore two things. That her daughter would never want as she did, never be wretchedly poor and cold.  Then, as she nuzzled the newborn she spoke an incantation to protect her daughter from the pain of love and the men who toyed with women’s hearts.  

Only the spell was a curse.  The Mills Witch, as the nearby inhabitants called her, never loved again.  She raised her daughter in sorrow.  The girl grew up in grace and beauty and, despite her mother’s many warnings, she fell in love and married.  Four months after the birth of her own daughter, though, her husband died.  So began The Mills Curse.

That is not this story.  This story takes place generations later and it begins with two sisters and a wish.

***

It was a beautiful day.  The sky was a sharp winter blue and the New England sun shined bright but didn’t quite cut through the cold.  The grass was frosted over and the ground was hard underfoot.  The graveyard was silent except for the Preist’s token words.  Though Henry had been beloved by the community, no one attended his funeral.  Storybrooke did not mourn the cursed.

Cora Mills stood just behind her daughters. She was a beautiful woman, slight in stature but graceful. She knew she was still young, still vital, but she felt old-centuries old.  The weight of the curse pressed on her shoulders.   This was the second husband she had buried, and the loss clawed at her: sharper and stronger than the first time.  Her girls stood hand in hand, both dressed in black as the coffin that held the man they both called “Daddy” was lowered into the ground.

That was why it hurt more.  When John, her first husband, had died her oldest had only been a babe in arms.  She’d been far too small to understand what she had lost.

Henry, unlike John, had been a good man, a kind man.  He had raised both girls as if they were his own, even though it was very obvious that fair skinned and red-haired Zelena was not his child.  Regina, olive skinned and as dark haired as her father was-had been, was six, Zelena was only barely eight.  They had both been happy little Daddy’s Girls who thought Henry had hung the moon and all the stars. Henry had loved her and their girls and hadn’t given two damns what anyone else thought about The Curse.  He hadn’t believed in it.  It had still taken him, just as it had John, and her own father, and her grandfather.  

The Curse took and took and could not be broken.  She knew that now.  She had doubted, for a few glorious years, she had believed more in their family than the curse.  Two times she had let herself fall in love.  Two times the curse had taken her love away.  Cora knew that two times was too many.  No more husbands, no more deaths, no more love for her.  Love, the last tear she allowed herself to shed slid down her cheek, was weakness.  She had to be strong.  She laid a hand on either of her daughter’s heads.  She had to be strong for her girls, curse or no.  She had to make them understand and make them believe in the curse.  She had to brand it into their young minds so they wouldn’t suffer:  Love is weakness.

**

It was late, the Mickey Mouse clock read almost midnight.   Zelena twisted around only to find her little sister missing from their shared bed.  "Gina!“  She sat up and looked around.  Their room was lit by a nightlight and the moon.  It was a full moon and their big window was wide open.  The curtains flapped in the breeze.  Regina, the smallest girl in second grade, had climbed out their large window and onto the steep roof.  And people thought *she* was the crazy sister.  Zelena pushed the quilt off and tossed her neatly braided red hair over her shoulder.  She had to pull Regina back inside before she fell and died.  She bit her lip, she didn’t want Regina to be hurt and she really didn’t want her to die. She tiptoed out of bed, "what are you doing?”   Her voice was a whisper.  Mama’s bedroom was right across the hallway and she always knew when they were misbehaving.  It was magic, Zelena knew it.  

“Sis!”  She hurried over to the window and her jaw dropped open when she saw what Regina had done.

She had three candles precariously placed around her, a pile of apple blossoms and a sheet of paper. Her signet ring hung off a chain, just like Zelena’s.  Daddy had given them each a ring for Christmas.  It had the Mills Family seal on it because he said that they should never be ashamed of who they were.  Zelena tugged at her own ring, a little anxious.

"Mama is gonna be mad if she sees you doing-whatever it is you’re doing.“

Regina looked over her shoulder, her own braid had come loose in the breeze, dark tendrils whipped around her face,  "I’m beating the curse.”

Zelena wrinkled her nose, “Why?  I thought you said you never wanted to fall in love.”  She parroted her sister’s own words back at her.  She boosted herself up onto the window sill and carefully climbed out. The roof’s shingles were cold and rough on her bare feet Maybe her sister was crazy, but she wouldn’t let her be crazy alone.

Regina smiled sadly, “I don’t.  That’s why I’m casting this.”  She nodded her head at the thick book, their mother’s, that rested on the window sill.  They weren’t supposed to do magic without their mother, but Daddy had always laughed when they had light fights and made their dollies dance.  He’d called them his Little Witches.  

“Amas Veritas?”  Zelena frowned, “I don’t get it.”  Regina was better at figuring out the old timey magic words then she was.

Regina lit the candles one by one by gently blowing on them. The flame was small but bright, just like her sister.   "It means true love.  If I cast a spell for someone who can’t possibly exist, then I can’t fall in love with them so I’ll be safe.“  

Zelena blew out a puff of breath, she hated The Cure.   "How do you know he won’t exist?”

“She.”  Regina corrected, “The spell always kills boys but never girls.  So my True Love will be a girl.”

Zelena wanted to argue, but also didn’t want to discourage her sister.  It was the first time Gina had stopped crying since their Daddy had died.

“She will give me a son.”  Which was impossible since part of the curse was that Mills women only had daughters, never sons.  There hadn’t been a male Mills in their entire history.  "And will travel from far away, lead by a wish.  She’ll be strong and kind, whistle my favorite song, be able to flip pancakes in the air, and ride a horse backwards.“  

Regina looked up at the stars, "Her favorite shape will be a star and she’ll have one green eye and one blue.”

Zelena giggled a little,  "She definitely sounds like Princess Charming.“  

Regina held the apple blossom in her cupped hands and blew it into the night sky, letting her spell float away with it.  "Exactly.  She’s a fairytale, a dream, so I will never find her and I will never fall in love.”

Zelena sighed, “But I want to fall in love.  I want to know what it’s like.  I want to feel it and enjoy the ride.  I want it to be wild and exciting.”  Because if she didn’t marry them, maybe they wouldn’t die.  That was the real way to beat The Curse.

They sat there, together under the full moon, and thought about love magic and their hopes for the future.  Daddy had alway said they’d had big futures.  Big futures for little girls.

***

“Lena, you’re going to fall and break your neck!”

Regina stood at their window, in her pajamas, and watched her sister climb out of it.  She worried at her ring and both hoped and dreaded her mother coming back early.  At eighteen, her sister was everything that Regina wasn’t.  She was wild, carefree, tall and beautiful, and brave.  Zelena was foolishly, and sometimes wickedly, brave.

“I’ll be fine, Gina.”  She pulled her bag through the window and then paused.  “I’m a Mills, tough as nails you know.”  

Regina smiled a little, but didn’t stop a tear from slipping down her cheek.  

“But I won’t be around to help you if you need it.”  

Only this time she wasn’t going to run around Storybrooke raising hell with Ruby Lucas.  It was a boy.  His name was August, he had a motorcycle and Zelena swore she loved him.  They were going to have wonderful adventures together.  They were going to see the world.

“It’s going to be okay, Gina.”

She grinned and quirked a brow, “Hold on.”  

Zelena stood and walked over to the edge of the roof, “Darling throw me your pocket knife.”  

After a moment she came back to the window and flicked a small knife open.  She slid the blade across her palm.  Red blood welled up.  Before Regina could say a word, she winced as Zelena cut her own hand.  

“Your blood.”  Zelena clapped their bleeding hands together, “My blood.”  They held their hands tightly together.  “My blood.”  Zelena smiled, “Our blood.  Our magic.  There’s nothing stronger than blood magic, Sis.”

They sat there, hands clasped, under the stars.

“Take care of yourself, Lena.”  

The redhead grinned, “You know me, I always meet trouble head on with a fireball in either hand.”

Regina pulled her into a tight hug.  “I love you.”

Zelena hugged her right back, “Love you too.”

Regina watched Zelena toss her bag to the ground the shimmy down the trellis.   Zelena jumped into August’s arms and he spun her around.  Zelena looked happy.

Regina watched until the motorcycle went out of sight with Zelena holding tightly to her boyfriend.  Regina kept watching the full moon alone.  She wrapped her arms around her knees and looked out across Storybrooke. The small town was laid out in front of her, the same view that every Mills had seen since the founding of their town.  She understood why Zelena was leaving.  The Mills were pariahs in Storybrooke, hated and bullied from cradle to grave, quite literally.  They didn't hang witches anymore, but they didn’t like them either.  Regina had heard the same slur all of her life.  

Witch, Bitch, Cursed, Evil.

They hated her for the magic within her.  Her mother had used their hatred, their fear.  She seemed to thrive on it.  Cora Mills was made out of steel and had told the over and over that they had to be strong.

Regina didn’t know how to be strong like her mother.  She didn’t know how to be brave like Zelena. Regina just wanted to be normal.  She didn’t want adventure.  She didn’t want love.  She didn’t even want magic.  She just wanted to be Regina.  

Time passed, two years slipped by with a few letters from Zelena.  Regina went to college far enough away that Mills was just another name.  No one had known about her magic or her family curse.  She had been just another co-ed. It had been the most normal she’d ever felt.  

Then, degree in hand, she had returned to Storybrooke.  She joined her mother at the accounting firm that Cora and Henry had built together.  She buried herself in numbers, tax codes, audits and (ins).  She wore well cut suits and reading glasses, read self-improvement books.  She did Pilates and adopted a tortoiseshell cat named Buttons from the shelter.  She was normal.  No magic. No curse.  No adventure.  No love.  Regina Mills was perfectly normal and content to live her life alone.

Then she met Daniel.  

It happened quickly, just like the romance novels she would never admit to reading.  She had finally agreed to go to one of Kathryn’s Ladies Nights. She had turned the blonde down time and time again, so just once.  She relented this just once.  I was just a few ladies drinking watered-down margaritas at the local watering hole.  It would be dull, Regina had assumed.   She hadn’t expected to meet anyone.  Everyone in Storybrooke knew who she was.  They knew what she was.  No man would ask her dance, unless they were fulfilling a dare.  

He’d looked up from his pool game and smiled at her.  His smile had caught her attention from across the room.  She had always told herself she wasn’t ever going to be a wake-kneed damsel who was attracted to blue eyes and a dark five o’clock shadow.  Daniel was funny, though.  He was smart and silly.  He called her beautiful and smart. He bought her wine to drink and showed her pictures of his beloved horses.  He didn’t believe in magic or curses. He didn’t even like Halloween.  He was a normal guy who liked baseball and documentaries about space. He smelled like hay and Old Spice.  He didn’t care that her last name was Mills.

How could she not fall in love with him?  

***

Dear Lena,

It is exactly like all the magazines and romance movies.  Daniel is everything I could hope for.  He is kind and smart.  Mother hates him, of course. Love is weakness, after all. It doesn’t feel like weakness.  Lena, it feels like freedom.  While you were visiting Los Angeles in June we were married.  I wish you could have been here, Lena.  We had it outside, in Porter’s Field.  The flowers were all blooming. It was perfect.  It was better than magic.

Dearest Lena,

We got the house.  Mother did not like it, of course, but it’s a nice normal house on Cove Lane-the one Mister Marco re-built just two years ago.  It’s even got a picket fence, if you believe that.  No one screams names at me anymore.  No one calls me a witch or a bitch or anything else.  I’m normal. Things are changing here.  You’ve seen the world, but I swear Storybrooke has seen the light.

My Darling Sister,

Or should I correct that to new Auntie.  The adoption went through and I am thrilled to tell you that Henry Jr has finally come home.  Mother acted like she didn’t approve, but she has already started spoiling him.  He’s perfect, my Little Prince.  Daniel is a great father, so patient and happy to change diapers and deal with spit up. I was afraid he wouldn’t want to adopt, but he loves Henry no matter what.  You can see it in his eyes.  Come home soon, Zelena, so you can meet the newest member of the Mills clan.

Dear Lil Gina,

I hope Junior got the gifts I sent him.  

It all went just like it was supposed to, just like all the magazine and romance books said.   They went on dates and fell in love.  They got married in June a meadow full of flowers, and after a  year they adopted a baby boy and named him Henry, after her father.  It was like a fairy tale and she forgot all about the curse.

The curse, though, didn’t forget about her.  She got the call on November second, it was a rainy day and she’d stayed home with Henry because he’d had the flu all week.  Daniel had promised to stop by the grocery on his way home from the stables, to pick up some more cough syrup and orange juice.    Daniel, in his sensible sedan, had never stood a chance against the drunk tourist in a giant SUV, not on the slick and curvy coast road that bordered the cliffs.  When Sheriff Graham had come to their small house with a picket fence with his hat in his hands, she had known.  She had known before he said a single word.  She had known, Regina would later tell herself, the moment it had happened.  The lights had dimmed and the air had tasted like sulfur.  Her Daniel was dead, another victim of The Curse.

Daniel’s sister, Mary Margaret, slapped her across the face at the funeral home.  “You Evil Witch!”  Regina had been too numb, too wrapped up in her grief, to fight back.  Henry had stood and watched.  In that moment his happy seven-year-old world had come crashing down.  Though she hadn’t practiced magic since her childhood, it was her heritage, and she had never lied about that to Henry.  Now he looked at her as a witch, too.  A Mills Witch who had cursed his father.

Widowed, heartbroken, and unable to keep up the mortgage on her own,  Regina did something she had promised herself she would never do.  She and her son moved into Mills Manor.  The white manor that stood high up on the hill overlooking Storybrooke had been built, supposedly, by the first Mills Witch and had been in her family ever since.  

The night of the funeral, Zelena came back.  Regina had known she would, so she’d left the window open.  The wind blew through, cold as ice, but just before midnight, she felt a warm body slide into the same bed they had shared their entire childhood.  Zelena closed the window behind her.  She was older, wiser, wilder, but still her sister. When they needed help, they would always find each other.  They were sisters by blood, magic and love.  Zelena would always be there for her.  She helped Regina through the first incredibly hard month without Daniel.  She wasn’t sure she would have survived otherwise.  

As quickly as she’d arrived, she left, though.  Zelena never stayed in Storybrooke longer than she had to.  Henry had pouted and Cora had sighed, but Regina knew she would be back.  It was part of their curse, Mills never left Storybrooke for long.  

***

[portfolio-]

Thoughts about Ruler: Master of the Mask, Part 10

(Note: This entry is going to be longer than the usual incoherent or coherent posts I've had. I'm still digesting all the feelings I have for this episode because wow, RMOTM actually had the potential to raise the bar.)

 I must be a sadist. I watched The Throne last Tuesday, then I watched today's episode. I've mourned Yoo Ah In's Sado, now I mourn for Yoo Seung Ho's Lee Seon (albeit for a short period of time).

The episode last night depicted a good picture of the main theme of this show imo, power, which fits just right as we move headfirst to the climax of the story.

(I’ll be a decent person for once and put this expand post thing here because this entry has more spoilers than I think should be spilled).

Dae Mok proved to be the best villain out of all in the show as he nitpicked on all his enemies. In one swoop, with the fake King's help, he managed to get absolute power within the court and in extension, Joseon. He loves (with whatever is left of his blackened heart) his granddaughter, as we've seen throughout the series, but will not waver in the name of his organization. He tortured the true king with his lover and his most loyal friend, knowing that beneath the regality, he is simply a man who protects the people he care about. I could already feel the satisfaction of seeing him dead when this series ends, in whatever form it will reach him. Props to Heo Jun Ho for being very, very effective on his role.

I feel bad for the queen dowager, but then again, the better villain always prevails. I will miss her being at the top of her game. Kim Sun Kyung is becoming one of my favorite actresses to watch in her generation, second to Jeon Mi Sun.

Hwa Goon actually gained my sympathy this time as her grandfather forced her to bend to his will. I liked the interaction she had with her father, that the latter's love always prevails. They gained my sympathy because beneath all the bullshit they experienced from the head of their family, they never lost the ability to care for each other. I still dislike her for forcing herself to the true king (especially at this episode), but actually felt sad at the idea that she would surrender everything to him. I'll discuss more on the true king later. For now, it will suffice to say that had the true king held hands with Pyunsoo Group by marrying Hwa Goon, it will only ruin them both. I hate her for slapping Ga Eun because the latter has no idea (again, who’s fault is this?) because she had no fucking right. Who set the ball ralling in the first place? Huh? (slaps Hwa Goon because you need to wake up too girl!!) But what takes the cake for me was when Gon lied to Hwa Goon for her sake! And how it breaks Gon to betray his master. Why did the writers fucking threw their pairing aside?! (screams) And when Hwa Goon actually pressed the sword on Gon's neck with the latter remaining steady on his resolve! What a parallel with our main leads. Had the writers went this way, I would have liked Hwa Goon more (even just a smidge of it). Anyway, thumbs up to Kim Seo Kyung for portraying Gon this way, worming in my heart after that fucking Hyun Suk betrayed us all. In the case of Yoon So Hee, she has her moments, but she still feels exhausted to me when she gets angry (except for that scene with Gon). I would have wanted an extra oomph from her, because Hwa Good could have been more likable on my part had she brought the same degree on intensity as the other leads.

The one receiving my ire once more (Actually, not just ire. I want so bad to slap him. I want to inflict physical character on him fucking asshole.) is the fake king. YOU FUCKING POSER GET OFF YOUR FUCKING HIGH HORSE AND FIGHT ME!!!!! (screams) He became a corrupted, guiltless puppet whose selfish intentions ruined the lives of those who actually care for him. FUCK YOU FAKE KING. Just when we thought he was in the right position to help the true king and his lover, jealousy takes over. AIN'T GONNA TAKE MY BABY GIRL'S HEART BASTARD. I hate him so much right now I want to run a sword through him, harakiri style. He fails to see how he would never win Ga Eun's heart. He actually had the nerve to console her after telling her of the true king's "death". FUCK YOU UGH DIE!!!!! In terms of acting, Kim Myung Soo actually played his role fine. While not to the level of his true counterpart (discussed later), he actually managed to bring about this rage within me (for his character).

(Pauses to take a deep breath)

Now, let's go to my babies because HOW DARE YOU WRITER-NIM HURTING THEM GAAAAAAAAAAAH (slaps left and right).

Let's start with our beloved Chung Woon. It's about damn time he confessed to Ga Eun that she was the one to behead her father. (I want to slap the true king for prolonging everyone's agony, but I'll let it slip this time because because because!!! You'll see later.) Can you see how understanding Ga Eun would have been had the truth been told to her all this time? (glares at writer-nim) The fact that she actually comes with Chung Woon proves that. Also, his bromance shone again in this episode, when Dae Mok used him as another bait for the true king to join Pyunsoo Group. WHY DID YOU DO THAT AHHHHHH WHY DID YOU BLIND MY CHUNG WOON! But maybe it is fitting for his guard career to end like this, his blindness as the price he paid for going with the late king's orders. But goodness, who will save the day now?

Another good thing in this episode was how Woo Bo bounced back to his usefulness being a true king's man. The subtle communication he had with the fake king provided him with the answers he needed, and I'm so damn excited for him to execute a plan of action versus Pyunsoo Group. By being fired, so to speak, Woo Bo was placed in the right position to sequester the loyal followers of the true king during his time as the chief peddler. Remember what the true king/chief peddler asks in return, the loyalty of the people he aided as he trained to become who he has been right now? This is the perfect time to call on them. And thank you, Park Chul Min, for being our endearing drunkard. I look forward to your "mental" battle with Dae Mok.

And now. MY BABIES. (hugs YSH and KSH)

 I'll start with the true king because damn Yoo Seung Ho, you're giving me a run for my money. This time, we see the true king fight Pyunsoo Group not as a leader, but as a lover. Do I hate him for it, for letting his emotions get the best of him? At first thought, I would have. That's reckless. That's insane. That's not worth it. (This is me speaking with my mind over matter perspective.) But then, watching the entire episode, facing Pyunsoo Group is some sort of rite of passage not just for him, but for Ga Eun as well. I like how dignified he carried himself at the beginning, and how Dae Mok broke him little by little until he was left with no other choice but to relent. He was a gentleman to Hwa Goon through it all, and his standing by his principles and his heart only made him shine all the more. He wouldn't take Hwa Goon because he was a decent person who wouldn't bring about that sort of pain even to his worst enemy. He wouldn't take power that was stolen or taken by spilled by blood. He would not be seduced by power, especially when it stemmed from evil. He would not ascend at the expense of other people, and that's what makes him a good person. I think that is what makes Hwa Goon not appeal to him, because at the core of her kindness towards him is the selfishness that would always be a step away from topping over the edge. We could hate him for his decisions, but we couldn't fault him for wanting what's best for those around him.

And when Dae Mok blinded Chung Woon and he suddenly screamed "Master Dae Mok!" Oh my gosh. I love watching the true king break down. So in character, so true of his vow as the leader of his people.

As a lover, he demanded respect for Ga Eun when she was unceremoniously dragged by Dae Mok's men because in his eyes, she is the rightful queen to his king. He would put her safety first, whether or not he knows that the odds are against him. He would risk his neck if that meant she would not be involved anymore. He took the poison to save Ga Eun, which was his initial intention. At this point, if it were any other actor/person, I would be screaming at how stupid he had been, but YOO SEUNG HO DAMN. He made us feel the depth of his love for the woman who always had his heart, and like any sucker for undying first loves, I succumbed to the storm of emotions brewing within me and cried my heart out.

And Han Ga Eun, the most powerful pawn in the show. The bait to both Lee Suns. The subject of hate and jealousy of Hwa Goon. This episode is another revelation to her, an extension of the trauma-inducing exchange with the true king. Finally, she asked the truth about her father's death to the right person. Finally, she held her own to Hwa Goon face to face (When she was slapped, I was like "Oh no you didn't!" Then when she stopped the latter from slapping her again, I was like "Yeah show her!"). Seriously, Hwa Good had no right after all her actions. Gets Ga Eun's father killed now this? Ha! Going back, I hate the fake king continued to appeal to her by using their old friendship. (One of these days, someone should hand me that asshole's ass.) Now that she would be concubine to the fake king, she would be in the perfect position to make things work for the good. Even if she thinks the true king dead (saving the best for last), I really, really hope they make the best use of her, as the last piece standing. Come to think of it, the queen is the most powerful chess piece right? I shouldn't but I am anticipating some showdown with her on the lead. She is the only hope of the "light" side with everyone thinking the true king dead. From what I could see, she is the best bet of the inner court with Mae Chang and the Chief Eunuch as her guide.

And lastly. Gosh. I know the mourning is short lived, but oh my gosh, did Kim So Hyun and Yoo Seung Ho make me cry like a baby. On the verge of taking the poppy wine, Ga Eun tried to prevent the true king from drinking the poison. The way she told him she would not forgive him for wasting her father's death, then the way she called him His Majesty and telling him that she already knows the truth (I really hate the writers right now for this torture, but I'll take what I can get.) Her desperate cries. Lee Sun calling her "Ga Eun-ah". The moment it hits him that she knows the truth.

The small smile he gave her before drinking the poppy wine (thinking about this scene makes me teary-eyed ugh come on). That small smile reminds me of that scene in Goblin wherein Kim Shin finally defeated the ghost of his enemy and realized that Eun Tak will be safe even at the cost of his immortal life. Here we have two men realizing that they finally get to do something good/save the women they love.

The way Lee Sun fell. The way Ga Eun held the sword to push it out of her way to hold Lee Sun. And that heartbreakingly sad confession. "From the first time I saw you, with all my heart, I loved you." His hand fell. Silence. That look of disbelief in Ga Eun's face. Then her cry. While Lee Sun's body was being carried away, the desperate way she tried to go after him.

WHY OH WHY IS THIS SCENE TORTURING ME

(Also, wow YSH and KSH. WOW. With Dae Mok clapping, you'd think he's clapping for the performance of the two rather than his victory.)

And her disbelief when the fake king confirmed (!!!!!!) that the true king is dead. "I still have so many things to tell him!" Reminds me of that scene in Moon Embracing the Sun when the court members stopped Yeo Jin Goo from running after Kim Yoo Jung as she was banished from the palace when she was cursed upon the request of the Queen Dowager. KSH gutted me.

I cried a lot. I'm so, so exhausted.

Anyway, to close this unbelievably long post, I think what appeals to me about RMOTM is the fine line power creates between good and evil. That the characters who are naturally good remain incorruptible makes me root for them all the more, good writing or not. RMOTM showed us the extremes these characters are willing to take to achieve their ultimate goals.

So to you who reached the end of this post, congratulations. I hope you don't feel as tired as I am composing this.

[njawaidofficial]

Kacey Musgraves Is The Queer Fan’s Country Music Queen

https://styleveryday.com/2018/03/29/kacey-musgraves-is-the-queer-fans-country-music-queen/

Kacey Musgraves Is The Queer Fan’s Country Music Queen

Kacey Musgraves performs at the Country to Country festival on March 10, 2018, in London.

Burak Cingi / Redferns

Growing up queer in flyover country, much of the world around me felt alien and unsafe. I spent the first two decades of my life in Minnesota, “Land of 10,000 Lakes,” each one teeming with fish I never felt heterosexual enough to catch. During adolescence I mowed farm grass on a John Deere and rode down flat highways on my mom’s Harley Davidson, and one of the first guys I dated took me out for a theoretically romantic evening on the back of an ATV — but I so often felt like I was playing someone else’s role. By the time I was out as queer in high school, I had to spend weekends in rural Wisconsin, just down the road from a dusty speedway. Any time I heard the yeehaw-ed exclamations from one its rousing drag races echo out into the silent countryside, I tensed up.

Country music usually accompanied those races, and it exemplified the parts of Midwestern culture that I had the hardest time connecting with. That music was always part of the soundtrack to my childhood — Faith Hill and Toby Keith on the radio as my mom drove me around, playing during school and sporting events, advertised on the roadside billboards that towered over cornfields. But like those billboards, it felt out of my reach. As a queer kid, it wasn’t for me. In fact, like so much of the culture around me, the genre’s conservative politics and gender norms — which you could hear in songs like Keith’s “Courtesy of the Red, White and Blue”(“‘Cause we’ll put a boot in your ass / It’s the American way”) or Trace Adkins’ “Rough & Ready”(“Gun rack, ball cap, don’t take no crap / Ain’t a pretty boy-toy”) — have made it seem openly hostile.

But Kacey Musgraves, whose new album Golden Hour arrives on March 30, is a horse of a different color. And listening to her music — which is indisputably country, whether country DJs play her singles or not — I feel as if she’s finally inviting me to a party I’ve stood at the margins of for so long. This is truer than ever on Golden Hour, her most fully realized record yet, and easily her most boundary-defying. It proves that Musgraves is here to stay, and that she’s not going to stop being weird and welcoming.

The cover artwork for Golden Hour, Musgraves’ fourth studio album.

MCA Nashville

Musgraves grew up in Texas and launched her career from Nashville in 2013, with her major-label debut Same Trailer Different Park, which won a Grammy for Best Country Album. It also featured the single “Follow Your Arrow,” which made it clear from the beginning that Musgraves wasn’t trying to sneak her embrace of queerness in the back door of subtext; she placed it front and center. That frankness is the leading explanation for why she has never been (and may never be) a darling of country music’s radio gatekeepers. But she is one of the most popular and critically acclaimed country artists in the wider pop music universe right now, and notable for being one of the few who’s vocally supportive of queer people in both her public statements and her music.

Musgraves has never identified as queer herself, but has spoken often about the importance of being an ally. Writing a letter to the LGBT community for Billboard in 2017, Musgraves explained that she “wasn’t always so open-minded,” but after people close to her came out, things shifted: “It started to enrage me that I’d had some previous misunderstanding about a group of people that I now love so much and have so much in common with.”

Last week Musgraves joked on Twitter, “I want a gay, collective ‘you’re doing amazing sweetie’” — and in the lead-up to her new album, she’s already getting it: Fader’s Myles Tanzer reflected on her “vocal queer fanbase” in a glowing profile, and BuzzFeed’s Matt Stopera proclaimed her “the best thing to happen to music since Britney Spears.”

Part of what sets Musgraves apart in the world of country and endears her to queer fans is her playfulness and tongue-in-cheek flamboyance, exemplified in songs like “Biscuits,” a single from her second album Pageant Material (2015), for which she’s dolled up like a beauty queen on the cover. She gleefully sends up visual trademarks of her genre — her hair is huge in the “Biscuits” video, which opens with her in a bonnet, churning butter.

Musgraves plays guitar with a bedazzled band in the music video for “Biscuits” (2015).

Mercury Records / Via youtube.com

But it’s more than camp; after all, queer people are accustomed to engaging in the aesthetic when we do not find ourselves in the explicit. More than anything, it’s Musgraves’s direct approach to celebrating nonconformity — rather than romanticizing tradition.

“Say what you feel / love who you love,” Musgraves sings on the CMA-winning song “Follow Your Arrow,” which she cowrote with queer musicians Brandy Clarke and Shane McAnally. “Kiss lots of boys / or kiss lots of girls, if that’s what you’re into.”

This simultaneously radical and casual embrace of queerness is part of how Musgraves makes the old seem new again. In her music, it’s the values of country that have been given the update, not just the sound. Her themes draw deep from Americana, trailer parks, and small towns — familiar country music imagery — and yet the lyrics take the genre somewhere necessary and new. As the New York Times’ Jon Caramanica wrote in 2016, she is “both the keeper of the genre’s old rules and also its leading internal dissenter.”

Much of mainstream country music signals or valorizes the virtues of rigid gender roles; Brad Paisley’s late-2000s country smash “I’m Still A Guy” is one of the more ridiculous examples — “Yeah, with all of these men lining up to get neutered / It’s hip now to be feminized / But I don’t highlight my hair / I’ve still got a pair / Yeah, honey, I’m still a guy” — but even recent hits like Blake Shelton’s country radio chart-topper “I’ll Name The Dogs” include lines like “you be the pretty and I’ll be the funny.” Musgraves, on the other hand, makes it amply clear she is not here to tell other people how to live their lives.

While she’s more overt than just about anyone who has come before her, Musgraves joins a lineage of country artists who have offered estranged queer people a channel back into the genre. Most have been heterosexual women, whose music is less likely to employ chest-beating masculine tropes — singers like Wynonna Judd, Reba McEntire, Martina McBride, and of course Dolly Parton (whom Musgraves called “a huge icon for me” in a recent GQ interview, noting Parton’s affection for her own drag imitators and her experiments with musical genre crossover).

From left: Kacey Musgraves, Reba McEntire, Jennifer Nettles, and Dolly Parton at the 50th annual CMA Awards, honoring Parton with the Willie Nelson Lifetime Achievement Award, on Nov. 2, 2016, in Nashville.

Taylor Hill / Getty Images

Musgraves’s friend Willie Nelson has also been outspoken, and by releasing a cover of a relatively unknown song called “Cowboys Are Frequently Secretly Fond of Each Other” in 2006, he effectively offered the first explicitly LGBT-affirming song by a major country artist. Some of Musgraves’ peers in the realm of more experimental or pop-friendly contemporary country, like Sturgill Simpson and Maren Morris, have also been vocal about supporting gay rights.

Of course, in addition to allies, there have long been important queer figures in the genre. All the way back in 1973, Patrick Haggerty, a gay man, released Lavender Country, which has since come to be regarded as the first gay country album. It barely sold 1,000 copies at the time, but in 2014 it was reissued, and he continues to tour. In 2010, Chely Wright became one of the first openly LGBT country stars when she came out in an interview with People magazine. And today country is perhaps queerer than it’s ever been, with artists like Trixie Mattel — a popular drag queen, whom Musgraves adores — offering earnest submissions to the genre. Meanwhile, queerly beloved pop stars like Lady Gaga, Kylie Minogue, and Kesha are drawing on the sounds and style of country music, often as a way to reinvent themselves and adopt a more “authentic” approach to their music. Among queer people and many of our favorite musicians, country is hot right now.

Album artwork for Trixie Mattel’s Two Birds (2017).

Trixie Mattel

But up until the past several years, moments that made country fandom feel more accessible to me were few and far between. One of the most memorable was the public political awakening of the Dixie Chicks in 2003. While introducing their song “Travelin’ Soldier” during a concert in London, lead singer Natalie Maines said, “Just so you know, we’re ashamed the president of the United States is from Texas.” The backlash from country radio and fans was instantaneous and intense, inspiring CD-destroying parties and death threats. The week the controversy broke, “Travelin’ Soldier” was the No. 1 song on country radio; two weeks later it had dropped off the chart completely. Despite going on to win numerous Grammys, including Song and Record of the Year, with later releases, the Dixie Chicks haven’t had a top 20 song on country radio since. They paid a huge price, but their willingness to defy country music’s deeply ingrained nationalism and tradition gave me hope that the genre’s norms might someday be more widely subverted.

Their blacklisting still speaks to the reactionary, narrow-minded tendencies that have made so many queer people, people of color, and women feel unwelcome in the world of country. The genre needs explicitly queer-affirming artists because it has been explicitly anti-queer in the recent past, and much of it continues to be anti-queer today. And that’s why Musgraves plays such an unusual and necessary role as an entry point and advocate for the kinds of people who have often felt unwelcome in country fandom, differently from anyone who came before her.

Kacey Musgraves and her nana pose backstage with Joey Taranto (center), star of the Broadway musical Kinky Boots, on Feb. 25, 2018, in New York City.

Bruce Glikas / Bruce Glikas / FilmMagic