#the past is frequently more recognisable than you would think

[gwarden123]

Not that it isn't possible for an author, or potential author, to get too caught up in world building, or that character work and drama shouldn't always trump getting the details of a fictional world perfectly right, but I really wish adventure story tellers would take an interest in history once in a while. It really robs an adventure story of texture and intrigue when a fictional world is just the modern world with a coat of fantasy/sci-fi/period drama paint slapped on.

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey author! how do you think the batboys would act if they had a best friends to lovers kinda of thing going on? like reader is their bro, their other half and then out of nowhere the batboys are like omg i love my best friend <3

Dick often made jokes in the past that it was only time before you two become the plot of a really bad romcom, two friends who pretty much did everything together, it was almost as if fate itself was trying to tell you something. A cliche friends to lovers trope just waiting to happen.

Now he couldn’t help but recognise the irony now as he holds his head in his hands, curse him and his loud fucking mouth for it always found its way to bite him in the ass sooner or later.

Dick didn’t mind falling in love, but to fall in love with your best friend after teasing about it happening for such a long time felt like karma for his teasing behaviour. He’s stuck trying to think of anything that didn’t remind him of you but unfortunately for Dick everything reminded him of you no matter where he looked, even his apartment was covered in things that you’ve left behind with no intention of taking back.

This has proven to be the perfect example of how much you’ve been overtaking his mind, slowly but surely before becoming all he could think of in his waking hours and his sleeping hours. It was driving him mad with how obvious his feelings must’ve been to the people closest to him.

You were all he knew in these moments and he was forced to be remained of his ever growing emotions with how he always seemed to be touching you in any capacity he could, his arm was often thrown over your shoulders in public or he’s holding you from behind as you stayed over at his place. He thrived off of your warmth and presence that it made going home to his place even more dull without you by his side to parent Hayley together, you’d make a great dog parent for all he was aware.

The signs were there and Dick was made to realise that he was the one who had fallen first out of the two of you, even though he wished it was you, and now all he could think was how he’d much rather have you live with him since you loved to leave your stuff at his place for convenience when you did spend the night. Hell you even cuddled together like a couple with you burying your head under his chin while he caged you against his chest with his arms as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

Dick knew he’d have to make a move sooner or later before someone else swoops you up right in front of him.

Damian was having his own integral crisis once he realised that he wasn’t in fact ill and was infect feeling romantic feelings towards you.

He’s against it and heavily so that he would find himself putting distance between the two of you because of it as it wasn’t something he was ready to face.

It’s very much an ‘oh shit, oh god why?!’ Type of reaction and suddenly his walls are back up. Damian knows how dangerous it would be if you were either him, as if being friends with him already didn’t put a target on your back. Not only that but he was secretly scared of what these emotions could spell out for his future.

Would he be distracted in patrols and missions to come because his mind was fixated on you and your wellbeing?

Would he become sloppy in his fighting or would he become even more ruthless at the idea of something terrible happening to you under his watch?

Damian didn’t know and he wasn’t one to ask for help either so he would often retreat to his room and put his head in his hands and sigh. Emotions were more trouble than what they were worth and it often caused him frequent headaches in the process. Damian didn’t know what to do and so he could only hope that if he spend less time with you then the feelings would go away.

However owever this plan ultimately backfires on him as he finds himself missing your presence more then he’d ever admit at gunpoint, he’d even find himself drawing you how he saw you and he’s back to holding his head in his hands and groaning at how much of a bother these emotions were going to be.

He loves you but wasn’t willing to risk your safety by taking your friendship to the next level, but even if he ever did he’ll most likely have to teach you basic hand to hand combat to satiate his concern while he’s away from you. But until then he’d rather let the emotions die in his chest, no matter how much they burn him from the inside for he’s dealt with worse.

Jason would come to this realisation that he was in love with you when he found himself becoming more protective over you than normal. And I mean more than normal.

He’d be on patrol and the first person he looks out for is you, especially if your on an late shift at work, as he doesn’t trust Gotham in the slightest at night for that was when the city was at its upmost worst. He’s watching over you like a guardian angel, a rather violent guardian angel but only towards those who deserve such lethal and or permanent punishment from his gun.

He wants you to be safe on your journey home that sometimes after beating up some goons, he’s walking you home as red hood for extra protection before bidding you a goodnight. He doesn’t care how often he has to do it because he’ll gladly walk you home no matter what, your safety was Jason’s top priority and he knew he’d hate himself more then he already did should anything happen to you when he wasn’t nearby.

He knew he had fallen for you when he became softer and more affectionate towards you, whether that be holding you by the waist as he moved to grab a cup in the morning, kissing your temple as good morning greeting, holding your hand when he feels the need to distract himself by fiddling and intertwining your fingers together.

He even remember falling more for you when you reciprocated the touches with some of your own that lead to him falling into your arms, finding his much needed solace there as he realises just how much he wanted this to be a reality you both share together, a reality where you’d lie in bed tougher and wake the other up with kisses and sweet whispers of love and adoration you had for one another.

His apartment that felt cold and dead was more alight and filled with life when you came in through the door, decorating it with trinkets and other gifts that you bestowed upon him, but what made his apparent more alive and warm to Jason and that was you with your presence and Jason didn’t know how he’d manage to live his entire life without you being his rock and his reason for everything.

So needless to say that Jason felt as though that if he’d loose you he would be a man without a cause, a man without an anchor who could aways bring him back form the brink, he knew damn well that how he treated himself now would be nothing in comparison to how he would treat himself if you left his life.

Jason needed you like he needed air to breathe, how he was going to confess he wasn’t certain but he had a thing or two in mind.

[sophiethewitch1]

What We Want - Chpt. 8 - Jason Fucking Todd

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

Well, look on the bright side of things. You’re not crying right now. That’s nice. You’re not an intern anymore. That’s nice. You struggle to think of anything else. Oh yeah, you’re rich! That’s also nice. You’re not dead. Nice.

This is kind of pathetic. You just feel bummed after having to break up with George a second time. And getting smacked right in the face by him. Which you know, anybody would be, you think. You don’t think a single soul has ever known the George Lancaster Break-Up Special more than once. And you didn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to fall for that asshole more than once.

You couldn’t fake a brave face anymore, you just didn’t have the energy for it.

…And let’s not forget almost dying via Joker goon. Not even the man himself, just a random lackey. You think of how he literally disappeared in front of your eyes, and decide you are going to stop thinking. It’s doing you no good anyway.

Instead, you just start walking. Letting your feet and your intimate knowledge of Gotham’s streets, even in this area you don’t often frequent, guide you. You find yourself at the train station. With little consideration, you buy a ticket to the southern part of the city. The bad side of town, the docks, where your apartment used to be.

You feel like a little rat scurrying back into the sewers as you hop on the subway, tucking yourself in between people who don’t recognise you, probably because of your general dishevelment.

Shoulders knocking against strangers, you feel the most at home since this whole disaster started. You stare across the train car, watching a baby babble to its mother. It catches your eye, gives you a big toothless smile, and some snot dribbles into it’s mouth. The mother notices and cleans the baby up with a tissue. When she catches you staring, you give a very awkward but friendly smile, and she smiles back.

A tiny weight lifts off your shoulders. Surrounded by the chaos of Gotham, as the subway exits the tunnels and heads up onto the sky rails, you find yourself warm by the rays of sun through the clouds. The view is beautiful, as it always is. Usually, you’d be looking at your phone, too busy to enjoy the sights. But it really is beautiful.

It’s only when you hear the announcer calling out that you realise you did this for a reason, and dart out of your seat and through the narrowly closing doors. The metal closes behind you with a small hiss. The Docks station, for most people, would be one of the better Gotham train stations. Newly built, and with all the tourist money it was clean. Well, clean as it could get. You’d read some article about the bacteria the rats were carrying being not found anywhere else on earth, and you’d decided to stop reading articles.

Anyway, for you, even the shining marble of the station was a sad sight. Because you only ever came here on your very worst days.

This seemed like one of them.

The familiar streets flit past you, barely something you’re even cognisant of. This part of the city was mostly new, the concrete fresh under your feet instead of littered with potholes. Still, it wasn’t at the centre of the blast radius, so it hadn’t been totally demolished.

No, that was just up ahead. And like everything else in this weird new world, you immediately noticed something different. Where your family had died was… still there, for some reason.

With confusion, exhaustion, and no small bit of despair, you stop in the middle of the pathway outside the remnants of what used to be an old diner and was now just a pile of rocks. Some very charred rocks. Looking at the wreckage, you raise your brows. Its crumbling form is still under construction after all these years. The yellow caution tape is only a deterrence to you because you don’t want to end up on the gossip reels for a second time today. Looking around, you find yourself further confused. Lots of other parts of the pier had been redeveloped, but this piece of the puzzle still lay bare.

It didn’t, in your home, your world. It had been replaced with high-rise apartments, and since they were so close to the water, so pretty and new, you had no hope of affording them. It probably wouldn’t be very good for your mental health even if you could. Still, you’d taken many walks past the street. Enjoyed the little bit of dirty white concrete that had survived. You and your siblings had signed your names into it, and you’d stroked the sidewalk like the weirdo you were many times.

Like you did today. And today, for some reason, the rest of it was here. Untouched. A remnant of the disaster. As you run your thumb along the sharp edge of Julie’s J, you find yourself once again lost in your memories. They were like honey traps to you these days.

The mum-and-pops diner had been run by your uncle. It’d been in the family for three generations, and he was incorrigibly proud of it. You’d all had your birthday parties there, because it was free and you were poor. It wasn’t like your uncle would let you pay for the food anyway, it was just one of the few times Mum could stand the generosity. She didn’t like it when you had disappointing birthdays, and no matter how much you tried to fake your happiness, she could always see to your core. Eventually, you and your siblings all gave up on trying.

You were late. You were often late, but this time it was… it was the difference between life and death. If you’d been a few blocks further, a little bit earlier, you’d probably be dead too. Or at least have some serious hearing loss instead of just suffering mild tinnitus.

You had felt more than seen the destruction. The earth had rumbled, and a deafening roar had swept through the streets. You remember falling to your knees, the worry about being late morphing to worry for your best clothes to a true terror when you realised where the blast had come from.

When you realised your family was in the epicentre.

You sometimes wish you were on time that day. That you’d gotten to see them all, even if you went with them. It didn’t sound so bad, really. At least you wouldn’t be alone. Hmm, you should probably stop thinking like that. Or maybe go to a therapist about it.

Not that you could afford it. Oh, right. Rich now. That was really taking some getting used to.

You wonder if people who won the lottery felt the same way. Probably not, because the rest of the world reflected the changes the person felt. They’d have to go pick up the check, go to the bank, and if they let their family and friends know, deal with the consequences of that.

You’d just woken up rich. No time to adjust, your new life was here and it was demanding your attention very loudly. And soup-ly, unfortunately. After a few minutes of staring blankly at the rubble, you look towards your left, where you know the Memorial awaits you. It’s in the centre of the new shopping district, built on top of the bombed parts of Gotham. It sits right next to the water, the cold breeze a comfort that you’d turned to on more than one occasion.

You’d feel bad if you didn’t change your clothes. You told Grayson you would, and you already felt bad enough about... everything to do with him. You suppose he was your brother. Your ex-brother. Ex-step-brother. The ex-step-brother of a woman who you weren’t.

Really, he was just a stranger. It seemed he didn’t feel that way, though.

You start the walk towards the shopping district, and into the first clothes store you see. The prices on the tags would usually make you flinch, but well, it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing seems to matter. Your survival is now guaranteed, might as well wear some clothes that feel nice on your skin.

You walk out of that store looking like you just robbed it. Even the clerk had given you a weird look but accepted the black card tucked in your phone without much complaint. It’s an improvement if a small one.

Once you’re done, like a moth to a flame, you drift towards the Memorial centre. You’re following all the steps you used to in the past, but somehow, it all feels a bit alien. The world looks a little different, a little uncomfortable. Your shoes are worn in, and yet they still feel too tight.

Uncanny valley. You feel unwelcomed here, unwanted. Like the very earth can tell that there’s something wrong in this scene, some intruder. You ignore the feeling as best you can.

The Memorial is just as unfamiliar as the diner was, maybe even more. You know that your mother was a Wayne before she died. You know that. But still seeing your family’s framed photos, right alongside Jason's is so shocking you nearly jump. It takes a moment of wide-eyed staring before you can manage to get past that. When you do, for some reason you still go back to your old habits. You walk by them, the bouquets and to where their names used to be in thin letters.

You count with your fingers, finding the fifty-second line.

A man’s name replaces the spot where your mother’s is. The little grooves the oil in your fingers had left behind were gone, and instead was sharp stone like when the monument was first erected. It cuts at your fingers. It no longer welcomes your touch.

James Whitaker. That’s the name of the man who took their spot.

You can already feel a rising obsession with the random dead man. If you were going to psycho-analyse yourself, you’d recognise that you didn’t feel that the images of the Waynes you’d created were no longer real, no longer safe to your escapist mindset. You’d realise, that this was all pretty unhealthy, and you really, really needed therapy.

Instead, you give the guy your condolences and start reading the other plinths. They seem largely the same. It’s not like you hadn’t read all of these towers of stone at one point or another, your eyes glazing over the many, many names. So much devastation, all in one moment.

And still, this was not even a tenth of all the lives the Joker had taken. You kinda wanna go take a kick at one of the Bat signals littered around the city. Maybe that’d make you less… broiling with incompetent rage.

Again, maybe you should just go to therapy. You should call Jeanine about that or something.

Eventually, you circle back to your family and Jason’s shrines. You know, back then you’d been jealous that Jason Todd had been so well mourned. You’d wished your family had gotten the same treatment.

Now, you… felt jealous again. Possessive, over their memory, their image. You didn’t really like that random strangers that never knew them… knew them. That Sam always got As in English and Art class but would sometimes skip math and would hide in the bathrooms to do so. That Chasey had struggled with going to school because of her anxiety but kept going because she had a friend going through the exact same thing. That Julie was the ace of her school’s soccer team, and that she’d almost gotten them to nationals even in the presence of all the super-rich schools in Gotham. That your Mum was a great cook but genuinely hated doing it, but for some reason, baking was her favourite thing even as she had never made a proper macaron.

They didn’t know them. They knew their faces and a facsimile of them, but they didn’t know them. It reminded you of the people at the orphanage. Nice, but not kind. They’d had their own lives, they didn’t want some bratty, demented teenager who was going down and planning on taking everyone with her.

You really couldn’t be happy, could you? Maybe you didn’t know what you wanted. What you want now. What you’d wanted for a while, actually.

Ugh. You close your eyes and let out a deep, soul-shaking sigh. It takes a moment for you to shore up the willpower to open them again. Come on, flower shop, finish your weird little ritual then you can go home and hide for the next millenia.

The walk there is the same as always, if a little more morose. It’s in a good spot, near the church just a block away and the memorial on its other side, as well as less sombre atmospheres down near the pier. Well, as little sombre as Gotham can manage.

You feel like you blink and you’re there. Too quickly, you find a rainbow of blooms in front of you, the scent of the blossoms washing over you. When you walk into the flower shop, the bell at the door rings the same as it always does. On autopilot, you walk over to the small, cheaper buds. Your hand clenches around the crinkly wrapping paper, a bundle of posies in your hand. You go to the counter with your prize in hand.

Larissa, the counter worker, smiles at you. Your breath hitches. It’s a working smile, not one of the real, toothy ones she used to give you.

“Oh wow, I thought all the posies had sold out. Lucky you!”

You think of something to say, but the moment passes and you don’t. She rings you up, tells you the price, and when you pay, asks sweetly if you want a receipt.

She doesn’t say your name. Doesn’t acknowledge how you come here every week and buy this same handful of flowers. She doesn’t ask about your job or the weather. She doesn’t cheerfully tell you about how her apprenticeship is going, or about the next sweet thing her partner has done. No, she just stares at you, growing more uncomfortable the longer it takes for you to answer.

She doesn’t even seem to recognise this other version of you. It feels like another string that tied you down to the earth has been snipped. You have an image in your head of a child losing a balloon, desperately grasping at the air. You’re going to float up into the atmosphere, and then you’re going to pop.

You can see the foil glinting in the sun’s light, so, so clearly.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Yes, a receipt, please.”

Taking it blindly, you barely flutter your eyes open as you walk out of the shop. She didn’t know you, didn’t remember you. That doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. You hadn’t really known her. It doesn’t matter. There’s no real difference, it doesn’t matter.

It’s okay, it’s okay, it never really mattered. You keep telling yourself this as you walk back over to the memorial. As you lay your flowers down with the others, the little posies are dwarfed by the other donations. It didn’t matter. You didn’t know her. None of this matters. Their flowers don’t matter.

You don’t matter. You hit that errant thought with a mental fly swatter.

Exhausted, you sit down next to the monument. You used to be able to lay your head on the stone, able to feel your family in the warmth it had absorbed in the sun. Now you just sort of, awkwardly reached out to the small bit of uncovered plinth at the side. You have to stick your hand through a wreath to do so.

It’s not warm. You wonder if your family are sad. And then you wonder if you’re an idiot for attributing feelings to a literal rock.

After a while, you get up. Cross your arms. You stare at your family's portraits, eyes moving over their smiles. One by one. You recognise some of the photographs, those are your favourites. A smile cracks across your face when you see the picture of when Chasey lost her two front teeth. She still grins cheekily at the camera, uncaring for any changes to her appearance, as all kids shouldn’t.

Your shoulders fall just the slightest bit when you see the picture of Jason Todd. It’s one of his older pictures. Probably seventeen or something. He’d always been a lovely boy when he was younger. And he still was up till he died but you’d always thought you’d seen something start to change in him. That sparkle of innocence, dulled, just the slightest.

And then he’d died. And you’d wondered if maybe he’d felt it was coming.

You certainly hadn’t. It had been like a hurricane tearing through your life. You’d ended up on the other side completely abandoned, the only friend who’d bothered to keep seeing you being one who’d learnt to dodge train ticket costs like a damn ninja. And you’d had to decide whether you could keep doing this, whether you even wanted to.

You were an obsessive creature by nurture. It had been all you could do to hang onto the Waynes, pretend they would love and care for you even if they’d have never even noticed you in real life. You weren’t sure that was strength or simple human survival. Dying was scary. Of course, you were scared of dying.

Your whole family had died. So, you told yourself, that Jason Fucking Todd would be sad if you killed yourself, and somehow, you had made it all these years.

And now here you were, and the Waynes did notice you in real life. You were important to them. You didn’t want to be, but you were. And again, you have to ask yourself, what would Jason Todd ask of you? What would he want you to do now, in this impossible situation you’ve found yourself in?

You stare at the picture. Stare at the way the sun hits his dark hair and blue eyes. Stare very, very hard. Like he might crawl out and give you a detailed list of what to do. You’d really like a detailed list. Or any guidance at all. Maybe you could go hit up a seance or something.

Your head falls forward into your sun-warmed palms. This is so stupid. No answers are going to fall from the sky, you need to find them yourself. And you’re not going to find them here.

Someone walks up beside you to the old memorial, and you quickly tuck yourself back into an acceptable image. Fold in all the rough edges you can. A tall and well-built man, with a face mask, sunglasses and a trucker hat, he looks like he could be a celebrity or something. Someone important, much more than you.

And you weren’t, not technically, at least. The universe had done the equivalent of a shelving error, and now here you goddamn were.

He does an odd pose next to you, something military-esque, where he clasps his hands together and bows his head. With a quick flick of your eyes you confirm, yes, his feet are equal with his shoulders. It’s obvious that he’s paying his respects so you do your best not to judge him too hard.

And then he speaks to you.

“I’m sorry.”

You look up, startled and confused.

“For your loss,” the deep voice finishes, jerking his head toward the pictures in front of the two of you.

“Wha- oh uh, um,” you blink and then realise that this person has recognised you, which would make sense since you are literally in one of the photos in front of you, and manage to pull your fading conscious mind back together for a moment more.

“Thank you, uh-” you stare at him a moment longer, “You too?”

Almost worse than that time you told the barista who gave you your coffee you hoped she enjoyed hers too, but not quite. Well, you know, he’d probably lost someone here too. You don’t know why he’d be here otherwise unless he wanted an autograph or something. The thought almost makes you laugh.

He snorts at your words. You don’t know what to make of that.

He looks back down at the pictures and flowers. You think he does, at least, from the slight shifting of his head. He’s kind of mysterious. Pair that with the deep voice, the muscular and tall physique, and you’re an odd mix of attracted and socially anxious. Not that you’re not always socially anxious, but this guy feels… strong. Dumb again, you can see his biceps from here but…

You just can’t quite shake it off. Strong. Strong.

“They didn’t deserve it, none of them did,” he speaks again, and you wonder what the fuck he’s going on about at all.

You admit, you sound a little bitter when you mutter, “Well, that’s obvious.”

He lets out a bark of laughter, and you see his eyes flash to you from under his sunglasses. A shade of blue. There’s another odd pause, and then he turns to you. You don’t know why he’s looking at you. He crosses his arms, and seems to size you up.

“What are you doing here?” he asks you like he knows you.

Your brow furrows. Okay, kind of losing any hotness points here. Bothering someone who was grieving could’ve been seen as rude from the very start, but you’d just thought he was weird. Now, you thought he was weird and rude.

“…Paying my respects. Obviously,” you gesture downwards, “My mother, my siblings, and…”

Well, how would you describe the relationship between you and Jason Todd now? He was still just a stranger to you and-

“With who, that guy?”

Now, it isn’t often that you’re stunned into silence, but at the moment you can’t find it in you to do anything but stare and gape. Frankly, you’re astonished! You’ve never met anyone who spoke so rudely of the dead, and well, he couldn’t have picked a worse person to do it in front of.

“Excuse me?” your voice can’t seem to convey even half of your offence, even as you sound like you’re about ready to bite a second person for today. The man pauses like you’ve surprised him, which- what the fuck is going on? Why do you feel like an alien crash-landed on Earth these days?

“No, I just meant-” he huffs, shakes his head, and continues, his voice now offended too, “What the fuck am I saying? Yes, I did mean that. That little twerp was a naive idiot who was manipulated by the people he believed in most.”

You stare, absolutely speechless, as the stranger goes on a damn-fucking-near crazed rant about one of the people most important to you. Never met? Sure. Dead as hell? Absolutely. But still, he was one of your lifelines. Your candlelight in the dark, guiding your way even when you felt completely lost. And now he’s calling him a naive idiot? You can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

“He changed nothing, made no difference in the end-”

“Nothing?!” you practically shriek, finally able to find your voice just to use it to shout, “He changed… so much! He donated millions of dollars, did heaps of charity work, was practically a treasure to our city… He made multiple homeless shelters, an orphanage, helped rehabilitate criminals and countless other things.”

Your fists are clenched tight enough that they shake. You hide them behind your back, but you still feel like he can probably see them. Your emotions are simmering too close to the surface, bubbling over and onto the floor. About to burn his sneakers to ash.

“You seem like you care a lot,” he says, sounding reserved.

“Of course, I care.”

“…It’s just, you didn’t seem the type, on the TV,” he keeps talking, poking at you for some god-awful reason, and you bark out a harsh laugh.

“Maybe people need to stop making so many fucking assumptions, then? It certainly hasn’t gotten you anywhere,” you throw your hands up, damn sick of all the constant fucking surveillance you’re under. You can see why this version of you lost her mind. You’re near about to as well.

He stares at you for a moment longer, and you start feeling too uncomfortable. It’s a stupid and useless protectiveness that has you staying. Like he’ll somehow try and harm the shrine to your people. It’s happened before, Joker fanboys defacing it and such. This guy could be one of those bastards.

And yet… somehow you feel…

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he finally says.

“Good, you do that.”

“But in the end, nothing’s really changed. Joker’s still out and about, as you well know.”

You physically flinch like you’ve been slapped. For a good minute there, all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. You raise one shaking fist, and lift one trembling finger, pointing. The man looks in the direction you’ve pointed, and when he doesn’t see anything, turns back to you. His sunglasses reflect the grey afternoon sun.

“Go,” you order, voice shaking just like the rest of you.

He just keeps staring at you. You wish he’d take off those dumb fucking glasses, so you could see this asshole’s face. Etch it into your mind. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take any action. He simply waits for you to… Well, you don’t know what you’ll do. You haven’t known what you’d do since you left Dick behind two hours ago.

“You need to go,” you say again, and again, he doesn’t fucking move, “You… there’s… you have no right.”

You can hear the buzz of the city around you, the wind rushing by. His clothes rustle in the wind. Your voice sounds too loud in your ears, but he won’t just… he won’t leave. You don’t want this stranger here, watching you. Judging you. It’s all…

“Jason didn’t do anything wrong,” you say, and you think to yourself, desperately, ��I didn’t do anything wrong.’

There’s a slight shift in the stranger’s posture. His shoulders tensed.

You think you’ve offended him.

“The Joker… That’s nobody's fault but the government for not just sucking it up and giving him the death penalty, or Batman’s for not doing it himself a long time ago. They’re all fucking useless, but they’re the ones who are supposed to be dealing with this!” you continue, your words growing more heated. It’s only the already looming threat of an assault case that keeps you from shoving the guy. Not like you’d be able to move him an inch, of course, he was huge.

You’re sure it would feel good, though.

“It was never some random teenager's responsibility, and it wasn't mine either,” you say, but find yourself pausing for a moment when you hear the end of your sentence. It doesn’t matter. It’s not like it wasn’t obvious anyway.

You’d tied yourself and Jason up together in your head. To you, you were both two sides of the same coin. One foot in the grave. You’ve got one foot in the grave…

“Jason Todd was a good person, and he made the world a better place.”

You look down at the portrait of the boy, his toothy smile twisting at your heart. None of this was fair. None of this had ever been fair. Why was this guy acting like anybody here had ever been able to do anything about it? Like Jason should’ve been smarter, and avoided a fucking bomb blast?

It was stupid. This was stupid, and you were over it. You were tired.

“And I miss him.”

It’s quiet after you say that.

“I don’t know how you can think it’s fair to act like his death was pointless when… of course it was, all of this was pointless,” you say, throwing your hands wide and gesturing to the entire memorial. “This was a tragedy, but Jason was a victim. And I’m sick of people like you who think they can decide whether someone else’s life was lived right. It’s not your damn right.”

“Now… fuck off!” you announce, and to your shock, he does. He fucks right off. The man gives you one last lingering look, and then turns and leaves without another word. Not like you needed them.

You huff out a shocked breath, and then turn back to the memorial.

The framed faces of your loved ones stare back at you, and for all you know it’s stupid, you can’t help but feel embarrassed for the display. You know your mother would’ve scolded you for your language, at least.

“Sorry,” you say, and you’re unfortunately reminded of that irritating man again. Likely that won’t be the first time he pops up again in your head. He seemed well, insane. Which wasn’t that odd in Gotham but… god, you just couldn’t seem to let it go.

It pissed you off to high heaven. His rudeness was something you’d usually be able to shrug off, especially from some random stranger, but, but, but-! Argh, damn it all. And it wasn’t like that was the first time you had had that sort of conversation, but it was certainly the first time someone had been so bold as to bring it up in front of your dead mother’s smiling face.

Earlier today had snuffed out the fire in you, but that encounter had been the spark to reignite it. More than that, actually. It had made you so damn pissed, made your blood boil in a way you just couldn’t ignore, to the point that you wanted to prove him wrong.

Jason Todd had mattered and had made a difference and change in Gotham. He had made a change in you. You put your hands on your hips, stare down at the flowers, and make a decision.

You’re going to fix your goddamn life. For Jason Fucking Todd.

Your body feels like shit, your brain feels like it’s stuffed with cotton wool, and yet this is the greatest opportunity you’ve ever been given. You have a chance to save yourself, and save your friends, and fix all the tiny little problems in Gotham that you’ve suffered through since childhood. Surely just throwing enough money at all your problems would fix some of them.

You were rich. If you couldn’t fix your life with millions of dollars available, then you had no chance.

And yeah, you don’t know what you’re doing. You know you can’t really change what happened. Back then or even just a few days ago. But you hate that. You hate it so much. You hate how weak you are in the face of loss. How both then and now, there’s nothing you can really do. And maybe if just out of spite, towards that asshat, Batman, Joker and everyone else, you want to make a change.

You want to be able to do something about it. You want it, so fucking bad.

First order of business?

…You want more flowers.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

[violetngrey]

# :: 𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 🫧 - 𝒄𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒎𝒂 𝒄𝒍𝒖𝒃 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒆

i could definitely rewrite this with a different mini obsession plot

part 2

charlie was big on making sure that the club always had a big meeting at least once every two weeks

discussing the latest movies and even the classics were an important part of keeping debates going and he always wanted to expand the number of members coming every week

however he only really noticed the numbers climbing in their ranks when a certain girl started frequently appearing at the back of the classroom to quietly sit and listen for the entirety of the clubs period

it took him a couple of visits to recognise the face but it was you

you sit in front of him in a couple of classes and after that day he couldn’t get you out of his brain

the way you fiddle with your hair when writing something down

or the way you cross your legs over each other when someone mentions a particularly gory scene in a movie

he found himself always looking over at you to see your reaction when he was at the front of the room talking

you barely looked up and even if you did it was when he wasn’t looking

always taking notes and smiling to yourself

the increase in cinema club goers after you is what surprised him

to him you weren’t the clique type or even the popular type

you hadn’t spoken a word to him or robbie since you’d started attending

most of the guys that would come to the club only to stare and gawk at you most definitely got grilled by charlie on movie questions he knew they had no idea about

he didn’t want them in here, not when he couldn’t even tell if it made you uncomfortable or not

his life goal for the club was to now ask these guys so many detailed questions and embarrass them so much that they didn’t even want to come back

cinema clubs numbers would suffer slightly but if that’s what it took

anything to just be able to keep you there as long as possible

robbie would mention you a couple of times after the club was out but after he didn’t get a very detailed reply from charlie he figured it was a sore spot

“how come you haven’t even mentioned kirby in a while man, did you get your dick cut off or somethin’? “

after you came in on a particularly hot day wearing a rather short skirt he really had to hide behind the front desk he normally stood in front of

as you started stealing glances at him and catching his back he really didn’t know what to do with himself

that day was the day he started stuttering like no other

after many weeks and most of the unwanted creeps gone from his club or mysteriously kicked out you stayed longer one day

after everyone had mostly cleared out, you stood up and quickly scribbled down a couple of words on a piece of paper and walked towards him

robbie ‘noticed’ before he did but let’s be honest he was just trying to play it cool in case you were just walking past

he didn’t think he’d be so nervous for just a tap on the shoulder

when he turned around all you did was hand him the piece of paper with a rose tint dusted over your cheeks

“I know it’s not a scary movie but it’s really interesting, from a women’s point of view- i mean” you left

charlie wasn’t one to be dumbfounded on more than just movies but you actually just spoke to him

uncrumpling the paper he found the words ‘10 things I hate about you’ and robbie laughed

the note also had a ‘-my favourite movie’ tagged onto the end with a heart

“you’re seriously not going to consider that movie are you?”

charlie facial expression didn’t change “it couldn’t hurt could it?”

robbie didn’t go home happy that day

he ended up going home and watching the movie twice over just so he could do everything possible for the next day

cinema club was concerned for their president the next day as they’d never reviewed a non horror film before why not a cheesy romance

“c’mon charlie what’s up with the film choice”

“hey i take suggestions you guys just never give them”

after the session was over he carefully walked over to your desk

“y’know i actually liked that movie”

you laughed “ you don’t have to lie to me to talk to me”

charlie had never blushed so hard

the club president wasn’t just obsessed with horror it seemed

please request more things so i can get writing again!

[valtsv]

is all true crime bad? genuine question. not referring to the very obvious disrespectful ones that are usually brought up when discussing the topic but rather documentaries and things of the sort. I feel like a lot of the documentaries around real crimes I watched bring up issues that aren't really talked about and a lot of the times are covered by institutions/media and also inform people on various things that they probably wouldn't have been aware otherwise so to me they can be very informational. there's also cases where victims of abduction for example have been recognised years later because of media like this which is objectively a good thing so I would like to know a little more about other negative impacts that might not be so obvious. if you have any source I can research on that's also great. sorry to bother!

i think that "true crime" in itself is a nuanced and varied topic and have no intention of tarring everyone who has an interest in it with the same brush, because there are definitely respectful ways of engaging with it that do their best to avoid and minimize harm. however i think that the popular culture depictions of true crime and capitalization on it as a form of entertainment tend to do more harm than good to both victims, who are frequently exploited for "content" and/or have their trauma dredged up for consumption, and consumers/producers, since a lot of mainstream true crime media reinforces harmful stereotypes, paranoia, surveillance tactics, and social divisions, and sensationalizes human cruelty and suffering. not to mention that this kind of approach to and fascination with horrific crimes and unusually cruel and violent criminals may encourage more people to inflict violence on others in order to gain notoriety and fame.

i don't think it's wrong to be interested in these things and to want to understand what makes people do horrific things to other people. one of my hyperfixations is the history of decapitation/capital punishment and its legacy, which is a topic that is fraught with issues surrounding the abuse of some of the most marginalized and vulnerable members of society. i myself am fascinated by it partly because of my own past experiences with abuse and marginalization. being interested in unpleasant things doesn't make you inherently a bad person, and thought crimes don't exist. however it's really important, especially when it comes to topics like this, to be self aware and critical of the information you're given, and to be careful not to be taken in by popular opinion and stereotypes without questioning them, or to get so immersed in your pursuit of knowledge and understanding that you lose your grip on reality and fall victim to misinformation and bias. believing too strongly in your personal ability to recognize and identify criminals and "criminal traits" and "solve" crimes, especially when the justice system is as flawed as it is, is more likely to lead to incorrect assumptions, the persecution of the marginalized and vulnerable, invasions of privacy and miscarriages of justice than it is to help.

[queerponcho]

Transfixed | part 5

previous part | part 6

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: ahhhhhh i havent updated this fic in over a week!! i am so sorry lmao. Went skiing and had a lil meltdown but I am back and i will try and be more frequent with my posting i promise<3 thank you guys so much for engaging with the past parts and i've added so many new names to my taglist which is extremely exciting!! thanks lovies. I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, making out, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, Jake being a menace <- this part only features Jake, Marc simping HARD, Steven being a cutie as always, spanish (without translations), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: you're finally locking lips with your mysterious date in this one;) Jake makes sure you get home safe and you find out some things about him that you're not sure how to feel about. You get home at around 4 am in the morning...safely? let's hope so...

2,400 words

Your nose brushing against him and his grazing your left cheek. You let out a soft wavering breath and you look into his eyes. They were darker than before, you would recognise that look from any distance and you know that this wasn’t Marc nor was it Steven, this was Jake. You were certain of it.

He speaks up, only confirming your suspicion

 ‘¿Me dejas besarte, hermosa?’ he lowly asks you for a kiss. Without answering you almost magnetically move towards him. Your noses craze each-others and both of your hands move towards his face, cupping it gingerly. Jake watches you, mouth slightly agape, awaiting your move. ‘Humanidad’ playing in the back, the moment was utterly perfect. Finally, your lips touch, making a flame erupt in your heart. You part away after a soft loving peck and see him waiting with his eyes closed, his lips ready for another as you exhale amusedly and press your lips to his once more. This time a bit less patient, your hands tug him toward you, you feel his hands cover yours at the sides of his face. He then moves his hands to your face, cupping yours and caressing your cheekbones with his thumbs. You move yours to the back of his head and you thread your fingers through his beautiful curls.

He feels your tongue brushing over his lower lip, asking for entrance and he eagerly grants it. Your tongues meet in a soft dance, not unlike the one you’d just shared moments before. He pulls away regrettably, needing to catch a breath. You both keep your hands in the same position as before, you’re leaning on him completely and he stands as steadily as ever, completely unfazed as you rest your body against his. ‘Hi Jake’ you practically whisper, afraid to break the peaceful atmosphere. ‘Hola amor’ He speaks as if he were holding back a burst of emotion. ‘Didn’t think you’d show tonight’ you say while brushing stray curls back, behind his ears. His hands move to clutch you toward him by your back, caressing the middle of it softly. ‘Ay bebé i’m always watching, could’t let them have all the fun. Been waiting for you for too long to sit back and watch as they make you giggle and fluster.’ you suddenly remember something very important and back away abruptly from the loving embrace ‘Them! Marc and Steven- Y-you have to explain- you’re fronting right now. They’re gonna know you were here- I can’t- won’t lie to them. I can’t stand lying and even less so to them.’

After pacing, you stand your ground and look at him intensely, making sure he understands you are very serious about this. He moves toward you, with his hand extended to you, inviting you to take it and you do. He holds your hand in his and leads you towards the sofa. You sit down together, facing each other, grabbing a pillow to hug, grounding yourself. ‘I’m gonna tell them, I'll talk to them tonight. I didn’t plan on it happening like this, I was going to wait a little longer to be completely sure everything was taken care of and they’d be safe…but well-’ ‘well what?’ ‘I- I really couldn’t let either of them beat me to it.’ he says and you see his chest and ears flush red as he looks at you. ‘Beat you to what, Jake’ He moves closer so your legs touch and he cups your face once again. ‘to kissing you, cariño’ his proximity makes it hard to really comprehend what he’s saying. You move in to join your lips again but before yours can touch his, you pull away, placing your hand in the middle of his chest. ‘You’re telling me you are possibly putting them in danger because you wanted to ‘kiss me first?’’ you ask incredulously. You don’t know what kind of danger this could be, but from what little you knew about Jake it couldn't be good. Jake always seemed very secretive and there was a certain urgency towards his actions. So this danger must be pretty severe if it’s kept him from meeting his brothers for so long just to protect them. ‘Nena, don’t say it like that- you make me sound like an idiot.’ ‘well- maybe you are!’ you exclaim and try hard to look stern when you feel a slight smile tug at the corners of your lips. He really risked all that…just to kiss you? Your heart skipped a beat at the thought and you pause when he smiles at you, as if amused that you’d d insulted him. ‘Tesoro, I promise they're going to be fine, I’ll fix it. I always do…’ You want him to elaborate but you trust him. You know that this is all insane and complicated. You haven’t known them for long but you’ve had intense encounters with each of them. Feeling closer to them than you have to anyone ever before, getting to know them little by little felt like a treasure hunt, filled with happy moments you were meant to find on your way to the long awaited treasure. 

Realising that it was already after midnight, Jake makes quick work of the dishes while you tell him more about the library, things like how long you’ve gone there and what it means to you. He can’t help but smile while listening to you talk about something you love as much as the library. You tell him many stories which include the orange cat “barry” the library owners had bought not too long ago.

Clearly you love that kitten, making Jake wonder if you wanted one of your own…maybe he could buy one for you one day. But what colour should he get? Would you also want an orange one or maybe a black one…oh black ones are cool, so mysterious- ‘Jake..? what are you thinking about?’ you have stood up from your chair on the other side of the kitchen island, watching him wash the dishes. The way his back moved and his folded up sleeves stretching over his arms was already enough to get your motor running but the mere fact that he was washing the dishes and drying each dish as he went…had you almost shaking with desire. ‘Oh nothin', chula- just thinking…’ he finishes drying the lasagna-dish and dries his hands on the towel. He leans back against the sink and tosses the towel on the kitchen island.

‘...are you thinking about Marc and Steven? About what you’re gonna tell them?’ you ask hoping to find out more about what's gonna happen as soon as you leave. He already explained that he can’t let any of the other two front right now, because they’d probably freak out and want you to explain. He needs to explain it by himself to be fully honest with them. ‘Ya sabes, I'll tell em' about…well, me…I think that would be a good start.’ you watch as his lips move into a tense line and you decide not to pry any further. It's their business after all…you pride yourself in not being nosy or very into gossip…although, admittedly it always was fun to talk shit about people.

You glance at the clock behind Jake and notice the large pointer nearing two AM. ‘I really should get going- I think there’s a bus-stop not too far from here I ca-’ he puts his hand on your waist and you stop your scrambling and stay put. ‘Muñeca, you don’t seriously think I’ll let you walk home at two in the morning do you?’ before you can start talking he answers his own question ‘-no. No you won’t. I’m drivin’ you home in my car.’ He places a quick kiss to your lips and lets go of your waist, grabs his cap, keys and leather gloves. Meanwhile you stand there still dazed from the casual quick kiss and watch him slide on the stretchy leather over his thick fingers and apply your entire concentration, to not climb him like a tree. He looks up and sees you staring, he chuckles to himself and turns around to collect your bag and coat. ‘Put on your pretty shoes and let's get a move on’. You do as he says, only partially annoyed by how easy it was to follow his orders.

You slip on your boots and put on your coat. He opens the door for you and locks it behind you, that’s when you notice he is still carrying your purse and doesn't intend to let it go anytime soon. You smile to yourself, and head down to the main entrance. It's raining outside and he moves you away from the street, keeping you underneath the partially covered part of the street, as he gets entirely soaked. You walk a few blocks when he takes a turn and unlocks a garage attached to a pretty unassuming building. He opens it to reveal the sexiest car you’ve ever laid eyes on. It was black and shiny and absolutely spotless. 

He can’t help himself, you look so beautiful ogling his car and standing there soaked…your tights were completely see-through and the beige sweater clung to your body like second skin. He feels saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth when he snaps out of it and takes your hand, leading you into the garage. You slowly walk into the dimly lit, grey room and he opens the door for you.

Jake was very particular about his car and who got to be in it, he insisted on them being clean and without question, dry. At least usually he‘d care abt that, not right now though. All he needed to know was that you were safe. He drives out of the garage and makes quick work of locking it before driving to your place. You’re driving for a bit when you realise something, ‘Wait, I haven’t told you where I live…h-how are you going the right way?’ you ask in a distressed tone. 

Now this was a fair question, since there really was kind of a bad reason as to why he knew where to drive…He had already once visited your apartment building. Not in a creepy, stalkery way…but also not, not in a creepy way? Ever since he first met you in the library, he would sometimes drive there and smoke a cigarette between clients. He would see your lights on and feel a sense of calm. That's how he knew that you were safe. He didn’t know why he cared so much about you…he just knew that you needed to be safe, that you were important somehow. So he kept you safe, in the only ways he knew. He rasps his throat ‘I-I read the message you sent Steven, where you mentioned your address.’ he lied. He had to, to make sure everyone was safe. He can’t tell you, at least not yet, not until you know more…

‘Oh, right, right- I forgot about that.’ he comes to a halt and you look outside to see your building. ‘Oh wow, th-that was so fast.’ Jake chuckles at your astonishment and exits the vehicle, making his way over to your side. He opens your door and holds out his hand for you, to help you get out of the car. He pulls you out and you end up pressed against him, your wet clothes stick to each other and you feel breathless at the smell of him and how close he is. ‘I hope you had a good time tonight, tesoro’ He strokes your jaw and palms your cheek softly. You nuzzle his hand and open your mouth to answer ‘I- I did…I enjoyed all of it, all of you. Please tell them that tonight, tell them th-that my heart grew like ten sizes because of tonight. I don’t know much about you all…but I know you have one thing in common’ you say while stroking the nape of his neck. ‘What's that hermosa?’ he says leaning closer ‘you all care so much, I feel so safe with all of you...thank you’ you say with a flushed face and watch his face harden. Jake doesn’t think he deserves your sweet words, as you said, you don’t know him. He doesn’t react to your compliments and opts for something sweeter than awkward silence and leans into you, capturing your lips in a long and tender kiss.

You moan into his mouth and he grabs your hips tighter, pulling you closer, moving you between his thighs, fully resting his weight on the hood of his car. Somehow you don't feel the uncomfortable sensation of the wet clothes sticking to you. Purely enjoying his lips and tongue moving against yours, practically savouring you like an expensive wine. He moves his hand to grab your ass and pulls you further towards him, making you very aware of his growing arousal when you feel it poking your thigh. You're brought back from your daze when you feel yourself wanting to grind against him on the streets of London. You pull back and he follows your lips with his, pulling you even further towards him. You turn your head away and giggle ‘Ja-Jake stop it’ you keep laughing as he kisses your neck teasingly.

He stops and softly holds onto your elbows as he sits back down on the hood of his car. Your breathing calms down and you look into his eyes leaning into him again, hugging him and giving him a quick peck. ‘Would you consider giving me my purse back now?’ ‘Of course, chiquita...But what will I get in return, ah?’ he brushes his nose against your neck and kisses it once, wetly. You shudder and pull away completely feeling your face burn under his watchful gaze. You open his side of the car and grab your purse, which was placed neatly on the driver's seat. You put on your bag and walk towards your front door, he follows you and you both come to a halt at the top of the short flight of stairs. ‘Thank you for driving me home, Jake.’ you lean up and give him a soft, slow kiss on the lips. You pull away to see him with his eyes closed, opening them slowly. ‘...Best reward there is’ he swoons, referring to his previous comment. He takes a step backwards, going down the stairs but keeps his eyes glued to you. Watching as you make your way into your building and he feels content once again, knowing you're safe. 

You make your way into your apartment, not noticing your clothes dripping all over the floor. You replay all of the moments from this evening in your head and can’t stop yourself from breaking into a huge grin. You chuckle to yourself and feel your heart almost beat out of your chest at the memories flooding your head in huge waves. All the spots they touched on your body flaring up with heat. All of it comes to a stop when you see a white blur from the corner of your eye. Your breath hitches when you hear music playing and see the window open, suddenly very aware that you‘re not alone…

-

a/n: uh-ohh who is in your apartment and what do they want with you? In the next chapter you find out the true plot of this story and how important the reader actually is in said plot...I hope ya'll liked this chapter and as alwaysw if you did enjoy it, please like / comment / reblog / follow.

The lovely people in my taglist: @lilladyblink14 @lemongirl5910 @sunnycl0ver @its-me-mila @urlocalgeek @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

please notify me if you want to be added/ removed from the Taglist<3

[blueiscoool]

Connie Converse: The 'Genius' of a Singer Who Was Ahead of Her Time - Then Disappeared

Connie Converse failed to find fame as a singer-songwriter in the 1950s, then mysteriously disappeared without a trace. On the 100th anniversary of her birth - and approaching the 50th anniversary of her disappearance - she's now remembered as a great lost talent.

In January 1961, an unknown Bob Dylan arrived in Greenwich Village with a guitar in his hand and $12 in his pocket, on his way to revolutionising popular music with his poetic, personal songs.

Maybe he brushed past Connie Converse as she went the other way. She moved out of the New York neighbourhood that same month, after a decade of struggling to get significant attention for her own intimate, sophisticated and beautiful songs.

There is a parallel universe where Converse was the one who got the big break, and she is a household name.

At least, that’s the theory put forward in a recent book called How To Become Famous – not a manual, but about why some talented people become successful and others stay in the shadows.

It imagines a world where Converse is "widely known" as "the most original, and perhaps the greatest, of the folk singers of the 1950s and 1960s", who influenced everyone from Dylan to Taylor Swift, and for whom "a Nobel Prize is not out of the question".

Musician and author Howard Fishman, who published Converse’s biography, To Anyone Who Ever Asks, last year, also thinks Converse could have made it big.

"I love to think about an alternate reality in which Connie Converse’s music did receive the recognition it deserved in its own time, and she became a recognised for the musical genius that she was," he says.

"I almost think a better version of American cultural history could have happened, had that been the case."

But How To Become Famous author Cass Sunstein concedes that Converse wasn't better than Dylan. She also faced barriers because she was a woman. And perhaps her clever, melodic and mostly melancholic songs just never quite had mass appeal.

They dealt with subjects like loneliness, promiscuity, quarrelling lovers, and frequenting saloons in the afternoons. It's certainly hard to imagine them really catching on in the early 50s, an age dominated by schmaltzy crooners, folk purists and show tunes.

"She didn't sound like anybody else that was making music in her own day," says Fishman. "And she doesn't sound like anybody else making music now, to my ears."

British singer Vashti Bunyan became a Connie Converse convert after a recommendation from US DJ David Garland, the first person to play her songs in 2004.

"I couldn't believe that they were [recorded] so long ago, it was the 1950s," Bunyan says. "And just to hear her speaking in a way that I would have always wanted to speak was very moving.

"She was completely ahead of her time, and it must have been very hard for her. She must have felt isolated.

"If she had any ambition for her songs, she must have known how good they were, how clever and funny and wonderful they were, and poetic. But other people didn't seem to recognise that kind of genius writing at the time."

Bunyan knows what it's like to have her music "rediscovered" decades later. She released an album in 1970, which has gained cult status in more recent years. She says their stories are very different, but agrees there is an allure to the idea of "the discovery of something from so long ago".

"And how lucky that she was recorded," she says. "Connie was recorded by her friends, and none of those recordings were supposed to be commercially released.

"But it's so wonderful that they have been, that they have been found. And it makes you wonder about all the other people that weren't."

Converse was recorded at the home of one of her friends and champions, Gene Deitch, but she never released any music in her time. She performed for small groups of supporters, but never played a proper concert. She made one TV appearance, but that led nowhere.

Ellen Stekert, a folk historian who was also performing in the 1950s, believes Converse was just "too different" to have "made it".

"I think she was wonderful. I think she was totally out of sequence of any kind of cultural impulse," she says.

"She was self-contained, and also self-isolated. It was too bad somebody could not break through that."

Converse did have her supporters, but any female singer at that time needed to be backed by a man with the right connections, Stekert says. And Converse was socially awkward, and not good at self-promotion.

"Unfortunately, she didn't have much social understanding of things. She did not have a very good rapport, I think, with people.

"Evidently, she had very bad teeth and her body odour also was fairly prominent. And those are two factors in middle-class America that will make sure you don't make it any place."

Converse worked for a printing company and then for the Institute of Pacific Relations. After leaving New York in 1961, she became editor of the Journal for Conflict Resolution in Michigan, and her intellectual activities, and peace and anti-racism activism, were highly regarded.

But then, her life seemed to lose purpose and direction. On 10 August 1974, a week after her 50th birthday, she posted letters to family and friends, telling some she was returning to New York.

She drove out of Ann Arbor and has not been heard from since. Neither her body nor her car was found.

A new life?

"As far as we know, she never made it to New York," Fishman says.

"As far as we know, she never made it anywhere.

"I'd love to think that she started a new life somewhere else, and that she lived more years. But who knows?"

On Saturday 3 August, exactly 100 years after Converse’s birth, Fishman is in her home town - Concord, New Hampshire - for a ceremony to give the singer her first official recognition.

Her music has gradually spread over the past 20 years. So, too, has her story, and the mystery of her disappearance is often the first thing that gets people's attention.

"The unfortunate and darkly poetic thing is that she needed to disappear in order for us to see her," Fishman says. "That was the hook that was needed for us to pay attention to her.

"But what I always say is, don't focus on how she disappeared, focus on how she lived, because her life is so much more fascinating and meaningful, and has so much more to teach us than the fact that at age 50, she felt that she had to vanish."

By Ian Youngs.

[qqtxt]

[🌸] i know i love you w/ txt

✿ pairing: ot5 x reader / idol!txt / non.idol!you / exes-to-lovers(ish) ✿ disclaimer: possibly toxic behaviours / the boys are depicted to be in a one-sided love but the reader still reciprocates their love in secret / curse words (none with ill intention!) ✿ mini-fics with each member for the same situation / less than 500 words for each member / altogether, word count: 2,314 words ✿ in which they show you they still love you, even when they know they shouldn’t… ✿: 🎧 0X1=LOVESONG by txt [masterlist 🌸] / other members are below the cut! / @kflixnet​​ ✨

things ended... messy, to say the least. emotions were running high, stress was constantly on and pressure was never a good friend that made everything combust; leaving both ends burning and crumbling to meet at the centre. a break. not a clean one, but it’s a break nonetheless. 

it was the grey area of uncertainty, of not knowing if you two would ever be together again or if this was the end. a part of you knows you’ll always love him–whether it’s in secret or out in the open–and you can’t ever deny that. him, on the other hand, is more adamant to showing you that your love still burned brightly, strongly, unwavering in the time you two were apart.

[🐰] soobin once a week, flowers would show up unannounced. be it at your home, at your work, at the places you least expect them... the blossoms of hidden messages would be there depending on the week and it happens so frequent that you don’t question who it’s from anymore. orchids of i miss you, tulips of deep and unconventional love... lily of the valley in hopes of patching up the relationship that has gone sour, that once tasted so sweet.

it’s a new day to a new week. you hear the doorbell ringing and a soft mutter of a delivery under your name. while you’re hoping it’s that kitchen appliance you’ve ordered, you’re surprised with the blossoms of petunia. upon thanking the delivery guy, you’re standing at the doorway with the bouquet in your hands, the letter poking out for you to recognise the handwriting that makes your heart twist but soon after, the warmth that spreads for the first time in a long time is what makes you crack a smile.

‘here’s to our healing. to you. to me. to us. still thinking about you everyday. yours, c.s.b.’

soobin watches, a distance away in silence. it pains him that he knows he doesn’t deserve to be here, to see you at a vulnerable state but it’s all he’s willing to give himself as he watches you hold the flowers he’s picked for you. how desperate he wants to be the flowers you hold so tenderly in your hands but he knows he deserves this... dull, throbbing ache that probes at his chest. yet today, for the first time in a long time, he smiles with the tears in his eyes and quietly leaves to think about the next bouquet of flowers he’d send next week.

tl;dr: soobin respects your space and doesn’t exactly show up in person (also because his heart can’t take it) but uses other means to show you he still loves you. flowers. he finds that being able to speak with you through written word and the blossoms and... quietly watching your reaction to the flowers is enough to reassure him that you still love him; just that you two needed time, for now.

[🦊] yeonjun “i know,” he murmurs, softly, broken. he swallows thickly, peering up to you in a way that you can’t close the door on him even if you wanted to. “i just–i really, really needed to see you...”

he knows this is wrong. he knows that you deserve your space, your privacy, the time apart of what grants this to be a break in the first place but... he can’t. he wants to honour his words of being able to allow you to reflect in peace but he can’t. yeonjun misses you too much to pull through despite doing well the past few weeks and at the times when he’s the weakest, he finds himself red eyed from crying, puffy eyes steering him away from his path back to his dorm and straight to–”j-jun...”

yeonjun hates that look on your face. pity. pain. the way you still silently love him but can’t openly show it because you’re hurting, too. then he hates how you hug yourself when he wants to be the one you wrap your arms around. on top of the many things he hates about you, he can’t ever hate you.

“that’s what you said two weeks ago.”

his eyes snap shut, a couple of pathetic tears falls from his eyes to his tear-stained cheeks as he nods, “i know.”

he tries his hardest not to crush you when you step out to pull him into your embrace. it’s the same thing you did the last time he was here and he’ll take all he can get. his arms feebly wrap around you before he steers you to his chest, keeping you there, feeling your heartbeat thump just as loud as his but never louder than the silent cries that echo in the quiet corridors. the embrace was much longer than last time but never ever long enough to satiate him.

he reluctantly lets you go when you bid him goodnight and tell him to take care of himself. he knows you know the love you two have is still there; gently wavering in the sea of unknown and that one day, it’ll resurface. not today, not now, but one day. yeonjun watches as you close the door on him and succumbs to walking back alone that night; yet, his heart feeling a bit lighter than the last time he was here.

tl;dr: yeonjun does well in the beginning to give you your space but after a week, two weeks, three... he’ll start to crumble and show up at your place even if he knows he shouldn’t. it might sound like he has an ulterior motive but he just wants to see you. even if you don’t say anything or hold him, all he wants is to be able to see you face to face, to get his dose of your presence before leaving again. he won’t push you to reconcile with him if you weren’t ready and he’ll respect your wishes if you truly didn’t want to see him but when you don’t, he’ll take it as a hint to keep showing up until you two were ready to fall back in love again.

[🐯] beomgyu beomgyu knows he’s not being fair to you but... he... honestly... he couldn’t stop himself. it’s on impulse for him to buy the tickets before he can stop himself and he only realises what he’s done when he sees the e-ticket on his phone. it’s a movie you’ve been fawning over since the trailer came out and he has a feeling you wouldn’t want to go so he just...

that’s how you two end up meeting for the first time in weeks since you two said you’d go on a break. a bunch of rules were made up; keeping each other’s distances, respecting spaces, trying to keep it civil but there’s only so so much that beomgyu can take.

in the thick of the movie being displayed on the large projecting screen, beomgyu’s instincts get the best of him. you jolt a little but you remain unmoving when you feel a head on your shoulder. then, the light brushing of his hand that lingers over the back of yours. it pains you but it... soothes you, at the same time. the only reason why this break existed in the first place was to give you two clarity, to give a moment apart before you’d come back to talk things out and work on it together.

that would come inevitably. you two know it. feel it. in your veins and in your hearts that you two loved–still–love each other. it’ll come soon. maybe in a week. next two weeks... it’ll come. but for now, beomgyu enjoys being able to have your presence; whatever little bit it is, he’ll take it. he doesn’t pay attention to the movie anymore. all his mind fixates on is the way you lean your cheek to the top of his head and allow for him to hold onto your hand. 

tl;dr: this sweetheart can’t stay away even if he wanted to, even if he tried really hard, he’ll crack once or twice before you to end up agreeing to meet up again. it’s only because he remembers something that you like, something you’d be interested in doing and he forgets for a split moment that you two were one a break. when he realises it, though, it’ll feel like it’s a sign from higher up, as if you two were meant to meet whether it’s “allowed” or not.

today, however, his favourite memory is in front of him ordering a drink he knows by heart. the way you say it is still the same, the contents of your order never changing. before you can pay, he manages to reach forward to the card reader. it grants him the look you give over your shoulder, gaping in surprise. he ignores the way you call his name, knowing very well he wouldn’t be able to hold his end of the bargain of this so-called “break” if he dwells in it.

[🐿] taehyun third time’s a charm... and it surprises taehyun even if he consciously decided to come down to a coffee shop you two frequented during your time together. although neither of you were currently in talking terms, deciding to go on a short break to allow each other to have this moment apart to clear your minds, taehyun still misses you. to satiate that feeling, he goes to the places that he’ll be able to somehow relive those memories.

he responds with a small nod and watches as you move to the side to wait for your drink. when it comes to his turn to pay for his drink, his body flinches when you manage to sneak in a payment. he has this look on his face as he watches you grin to a smile of success. with your drink in your hand that he’s paid for you, the way your eyes still shined bright, the way your lips curled up sets everything straight and in-place in his life.

like he can breathe again; for the first time in weeks.

it’s short-lived when he manages a soft thank you, watching as you nod before leaving the coffee shop... and it wasn’t the coffee taehyun was thanking you for.

tl;dr: probably one of the few who actually stays true to his promise of staying away during the break, knowing the break would benefit the two of you, anyway. when he realises how it’s helping the two of you, though, he’ll notice how much he terribly misses you. that resorts to him going to places you two went the most and in someway, somehow, he hopes to bump into you there to get his little dose of being able to see you.

[🐧] kai it’s been barely two weeks but kai... he couldn’t help himself. it was taunting him that he can memorise your number by heart and it’s on his screen along with your contact each time he dials it out but never presses. some unknown force today gets him to press the green button and it’s like he wants you to pick up before he has to tell you he called by “accident”.

it happens. he’s never quite prepared to hear your voice. the soft hello? that comes through shakes his bones as he holds his phone by his ear. his breath is trembling, more so when he hears you call his name–oh god, how long he’s missed that–he wants to hear it again, one more time, then maybe he’ll hang up but then you ask in a voice of worry that gets him to speak up. “k-kai, are you okay?”

“y-yeah,” he musters up frantically, clearing his throat, “i... i called by accident.” i was never a good liar.

“oh, i see. um... shall i stay on until we fall asleep?” i know, but i appreciate what you’re trying to do.

“if that’s okay?” it’s like you know without me saying anything.

“yeah, okay.” of course i do.

kai slept in peace for the first time in a while. a smile to his face, clutching onto the phone with the sounds of your breathing. no words being exchanged; just the comfort of knowing despite the distance, the time apart, not seeing each other... the love you two had still ran deep. special.

tl;dr: a similar approach to taehyun except he’s a bit more obvious about it. a mix between taehyun and beomgyu, really. he’ll try his best to stay away because that’s the point of the break but... it’ll break him and he forgets that he’s supposed to stay away, reaching out whenever it’s too difficult. he’s respectful, too, but in the moments he shows you how needy he can get is a reflection of how much he truly loves you.

[dragon-creates]

Royally Screwed!

Read on AO3

1/2/3/4/5

Wow that was some hiatus. But we're officially back! And hopefully we'll start to update more frequently as well, but I can't be too sure because of college and (if you've been following me on twitter and tiktok) I'm also voicing Jane Doe in 'Birds Of Paradise' by Rosetta Sun on tiktok. I really recommend going to her kofi as the rest of the cast and I are doing commisions to voice your oc's! We all have a large range of voices so if you want go to the link of Rosetta's tiktok bio and go to her kofi and see which voice would best suit your oc! Besides from that, hopefully I'll be writing more too, especially with a certain sequel everyone has been waiting for 👀.

Also, the beginning of the chapter does go into detail about Pomni's past and how she was treated by Caine, it wasn't great to say the least. I don't want anyone to feel triggered to like always, I will label (1) when the flashback starts and (2) when it ends. If this is something that you're not comfortable reading, please always feel free to skip this fic.

Anyways, enjoy!

4. Anything, Anything, Anything

(1)

Pomni panted as she stared at the ground below, clutching onto her aerial silk. She didn’t know how long she had been practicing for, only that she was completely exhausted. But rehearsals weren’t over yet, she had to keep going. The ground looked so far down below her, sure she was up high but for some reason the height was giving her vertigo. She never gets vertigo.

“Pomni?” Kaufmo called up to her, placing down a pie he had for his act. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Pomni took a breath, “I’m fine Pa! Just lost my focus, that’s all.”

The clown didn’t seem to buy it, “I don’t think so kiddo, start climbing down slowly, you look exhausted.”

It was true. Her eyes were red with bags underneath, she seemed paler than normal and she was concerningly thin from what Kaufmo could see. But she didn’t want to worry him, not when there were worse things at play, “I’m fine Pa! I promise. I…”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence, her vision blurring and her head pounding with the force of an unexpected headache. Against her control, she slipped into unconscious, letting go of the silks.

“POMNI!” Kaufmo screamed, running to where she was falling. The rest of the cast gasped, halting their own practice as they raced to the collapsing jester.

She was lucky that her father was there in time, catching her in his arms before her body hit the floor. Kaufmo didn’t even want to imagine the type of damage she could have taken. “Ragatha,” he turned to the ragdoll, “Go get her some water, she’s skipping practice for the rest of the day.”

“Now, now Kaufmo,” a low voice drawled, making everyone’s skin crawl when the ringmaster floated into the tent. His eyes sharpened in on Kaufmo and the fainted jester in his arms, “I don’t believe you have the authority to make those commands.”

“Pomni fainted Caine,” Kaufmo hissed, his own tone cold and unafraid, “It takes the slightest bit of human empathy to recognise that she’s being overworked!”

Caine went still, his feet planted on the ground, unhappy with Kaufmo’s attitude. Ragatha’s lions immediately circled round the clown and jester, shielding them from the ringmaster’s unknown wrath, “She’ll be fine, she just needs to keep practising.”

“She needs rest.” Kaufmo spat, “The only reason why she fainted the way she did is because you keep working her to the bone to the point that she can’t even stand. Not to mention the fact that you’re sucking the literal life out of her every day just so you can fulfil your ‘precious’ ego! So excuse me if I find everything that comes out of your mouth to be complete horseshit!”

The clown panted, not tearing his eyes away from Caine even for a second. The next few seconds were nothing but aching silence.

Kaufmo had been used to Caine’s torment for years. The pair of dentures forced him to endure each performance no matter how much pain he was in. As long as the audience was satisfied, he couldn’t care less if the clown had a few broken bones. But Kaufmo would be damned if he was going to let the ringmaster inflict that same pain onto his daughter, not if he could help it.

The clown turned his attention away from Caine when he heard a small whine, turning to look down at Pomni fluttering her eyes open. “Pa?” she whimpered, “What happened?”

“Hey there kiddo,” he rocked her lightly, like he used to do when she was younger after she had a fright or a nightmare. “You fainted, you’re lucky I was there to catch you.” He put a hand to her forehead, wiping away a bead of sweat, “You’re burning up, come on you need to lay down.”

“I didn’t give out that order,” Caine intervened.

“And I don’t care!” Kaufmo snapped, “You’re not pushing her to the brink today Caine! Do what you want with me but leave Pomni out of this!”

“Here,” Ragatha rushed back, a cup of water nursed in her hands as she held it to Pomni’s lips. “Oh sweetheart, you look as pale as a ghost.”

Pomni gulped down as much of the liquid as she could, she didn’t realise how thirsty she was until the water hit her throat. Her head buzzed with a light ache, pressing her hand to it when she finished the water. She really had been overworked, hadn’t she?

“Easy there, kiddo,” Kaufmo raised her upper body into a sitting position, “Let’s get you back to your quarters.”

Caine cleared his throat condescendingly, “I believe I told you that I didn’t give out that order Kaufmo.”

“And I believe I told you that it was complete horseshit,” the clown retorted, not taking his eyes off Pomni as he helped her to her feet.

“I guess you need a gentle reminder,” the ringmaster spoke softly, contradicting his words with the next action he was about to do.

He flicked his hand, a red mist contrasting Pomni’s usual blue appearing. It extended like a chain, wrapping round Kaufmo’s neck and pulling the clown towards him, forcing him to drop Pomni as she landed back onto the ground with a thud. “Pa!” she cried out, the others surrounding her.

“Let me make this perfectly clear Kaufmo,” Caine hissed, the chain tightening around the clown’s neck, suffocating him. “You are under my rules, you obey me. If I say jump, you jump. If you are tied to the back of a carriage while being dragged around on a rope, you will do just that. If you had to bleed out for an act with no one to assist you, you will continue with a smile and be damn pleased about it.”

Kaufmo coughed and spluttered, pulling at the misty chain to get the smallest breath of air, but Caine was too strong.

“Caine, stop! Stop please!” Pomni screamed, the others holding her back, “Let my Pa go!”

His eyes darted to the jester, his gaze making her feel tiny. He threw Kaufmo at a box of crates, the clown grunting at the painful impact. Pomni let out a cry, her hand reaching out to him.

Caine flicked his fingers again, lifting up the others and leaving Pomni on the ground to watch in terror. “You did this, you know,” Caine tsked.

Pomni’s eyes widened with terror, “W-what?”

“They all suffer because of your incompetence,” he growled, “You’re lucky you have a bit of talent and that little magic of yours, otherwise you would be a nothing-filled waste.”

“Caine, let them go, please,” Pomni begged, her lip quivering.

He rolled his eyes, letting out a chuckle before throwing each member in different directions of the tent. Sun hit his head against a pole, Ragatha tore one of her stitches as she landed on her knives and Gangle ribbons were tied up in knots when she landed face first on the ground, putting a crack in her mask.

Pomni covered her mouth, trying to stand yet her legs give way once again. She was too weak.

“Caine, what is the meaning of this?” Moon’s startled voice echoed throughout the tent, gasping when she saw everyone scattered around and furrowed her brows when she saw Pomni’s dishevelled form on the ground. “You have to put a stop to your madness, look at what you’re doing to everyone! Look at what you’re doing to that poor girl!”

“This is merely discipline, Moon, I’m doing whatever it takes to make sure a circus is successful,” Caine muttered, barely paying her any mind.

Moon could even barely recognise the man in front of her, “What happened to you Caine?”

He turned to her slowly, “Come again?”

“What happened to the man I fell in love with?” she continued, “What happened to the promises you made to make this circus amazing? What happened to trying no matter what? What happened to the man I fell in love with?”

Caine scoffed, “I did what I had to do in order to make these dreams happen. You could never understand sacrifice Moon, you believe what you want to believe but this is the way things are.”

Moon’s eyes darkened, she started stomping towards him, “You…you vile, disgusting, monstrous-!”

He snapped his fingers, an axe appearing in his hand as he held it to her chin, daring her to come closer. “Just because I’m soft on you Moon, it doesn’t mean that I won’t take precautions for you stepping out of line,” he glared at her.

But Moon was unflinching, staring him down with the same coldness he gave her, “Do your worst.”

Caine hummed, giving her a shrug, “Fine.”

He waved his hand again, sending the axe into her shoulder. An agonised screech echoed throughout the tent as a group of his masked men rushing in and pulling her away. “You’re lucky dear, this is me sparing you,” Caine sneered, “But make no mistake, I will be dealing with you accordingly.”

Moon screeched as she was dragged away, her eyes looking on with worry at the frightened Jester. “Run Pomni!” she screamed, “Run!”

She wanted to, Pomni really wanted to. But fear had paralysed her when Caine set his eyes on her again. Tears leaked from her eyes, feeling like the five-year-old girl he grabbed from the street the moment he caught of whiff of her power. “Caine, don’t do this,” she sniffed, “I’ll be better, I’ll practice more, I’ll stop singing just please don’t do this.”

“You know, I never did understand your silly little songs,” he mumbled, “You waste so much time on them yet you know the real reason the audience comes to see you, and it isn’t to hear those tacky lyrics of yours. You know exactly what you’re good for.”

That part stung. Yes she knew that her skills as a trapeze artist and her abilities was what got tickets to sell, but her songs were her passion. Her songs were her, something that Caine hadn’t been able to take away yet. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him that her songs were everything! But she was still too frail, and she was certain that it was only going to get worse.

“Caine please, I’m still recovering from last time and we have another show tonight!” she back away, kicking her legs as she crawled backwards on the ground. “Please don’t do this it…it hurts.”

“All good sacrifices come with pain Pomni,” Caine told her, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out the amulet. “You should be thanking me for using this gift, I’m the one who’s actually putting it to good use.”

He held the amulet in front of him, Pomni’s eyes pleading for mercy. “Now my little possession,” he grinned, “It’s time for me to receive my gift.”

The amulet glowed, a loud whine leaving its source.

Pomni could feel her blood boiling, her head pounding and every part of her body shattering with pain when she felt her energy being ripped away from her. Her blue mist was forced away from her, being sealed away into the amulet as Caine looked on with greed.

It hurt, it hurt so much. Her skin was burning as though she had been lit up into a thousand flames, her hair being ripped from her scalp, and she was bleeding out of every pore of her body. She wanted it to stop, it hurts, just stop, please stop, STOP, STOP, STOP!

A pained scream ripped from her throat.

(2)

.

.

.

Pomni woke in a cold sweat, her heart pounding in her chest. Her head whipped from side to side, scanning her surroundings in a dazed panic. She wasn’t in that lifeless tent anymore with that cruel ringmaster. She was in the castle, she was safe, and she was far away from him.

She let out a sniffle, bringing her knees up to her chest and hugging them tight as she buried her face into them. A few stray tears leaked onto the sheets, her sobs muffled against the blanket. That was the worst thing about her nightmares, they weren’t just that but memories too. It was real and it had happened. All they did was make her relive it over and over again.

Kaufmo told her many times that it wasn’t her fault for what Caine did, that his actions were his own doing. But seeing the repeated moments of her family being hurt over and over again just to protect her only made her guilt increase. Maybe Caine was right. Maybe it was her fault.

She took a deep breath, sitting upright and wiping the wetness off her cheeks. That was the past, there was no need to be self-pitiful about it now. She shouldn’t waste time fussing over stupid memories that only brought everyone else down the longer she thought about them. She just needed to get up and go throughout the day, push everything back until she’s able to manage it on her own.

Pomni swung her legs over her bed, going over to clean herself in the sink inside the connected bathroom, before moving behind the screen the maids gave her to change into a new dress she was given. She first pulled over a simple cream shift over her head, the silky fabric gliding over her skin. Next was a simple blue stays and puffy skirt, with two red hearts on each side of the skirt and ribbon of the same colour in a criss-cross pattern in the middle of her stays, with the bottom of the skirt being layered with red and white trim.

She did a onceover in the mirror as she pulled the strings off the stays shut, giving herself a quick nod before finally exiting her room.

Part of her wanted to bury back under the soft sheets of her bed, to hide whatever the day had to await her, her nightmare clawing at the back of her mind. But the moment she saw Prince Jax outside her door waiting for her, all doubts instantly vanished as a true and natural smile tugged at her lips.

“A good morning to you Prince Jax,” she greeted, giggling as Motley immediately jumped into her arms and climbed onto her shoulder, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Only your smile little lady,” he grinned, eating up the little blush that dusted across her cheeks. “But that’s not the only reason I’m here. My parents asked me to collect you, they have an announcement for you and the rest of your family in the throne room.”

His brows were furrowed and face serious, this had to be a serious matter.

“Oh, lead the way then,” she said, anxiety started to grip at her again.

Jax sensed her apprehension, scooping her arm up and linking it with his, “Don’t worry, no matter what it is we’ll be able to figure it out. Promise.”

How does he do that? How does someone with the type of reputation that made her want to keep the farthest distance away from him as possible, say the simplest yet heartwarming things that might her heart spark? And how did he say it so honestly that she had to believe him? She cleared her throat, giving him a little smirk, “Don’t make promises you can’t keep Princey.”

His eyes were unchanging, still soft as he placed his other hand over her and rubbed his thumb over her fingers, “I don’t. You’re too important to risk.”

Pomni felt her heart skip a beat. If it weren’t for Motley purring against her ear, she wouldn’t have anything to ground herself from floating up to cloud nine. Her grip on his hand tightened, whispering, “Good.”

With a gentle smile and a steady hand, he led her out of the hallway and made their way to the throne room. Neither of them felt the need to run down the halls like they usually did, that experience would be for another type of day. For this day, the slow steady pace down the long halls of the palace was what the two of them needed. The comfortable silence of each other’s company was enough for both of them, not a single word had to be spoken. Was this what it would be like for Pomni if she were to stay? Just peace? No worries about what or who could come after her? That she could be free to express herself in any form she wished for, song, dance, art, speech? Where her powers would be hers and hers alone without the fear of them being used for someone else’s selfish exploitations? And where she could finally allow herself to open up to the idea of love? To spend her days with someone who would listen to anything and everything she had to say. To feel safe in the loving embrace of another. And she and Jax could live their days in nothing but peaceful bliss…

…Oh…OH!...oh…

Electricity struck through Pomni as the realisation dawned on her.

She had fallen in love with the prince.

Jax looked down at the jester once he felt her grip loosen on his, concern curling through him when he saw the worried look on her face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said soothingly, capturing her attention as she blinked up at him. “I know that this whole ‘being called to the throne room’ thing seems pretty daunting, but trust me, there’s nothing to be afraid of. My parents always have a plan, so no matter what happens, I’m sure it’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she nodded, giving him a soft smile before they continued walking. How she wished that were the reason why she suddenly felt so down. But no. She loved Jax, she had fallen so hard for him. But she didn’t have the luxury to stay with him. Someone like her couldn’t afford to love.

Bury it down, she inhaled deeply, don’t ruin this, not like everything else.

She wanted to enjoy this as much as she could before anything else could happen.

The throne room already had a small audience, consisting of the rest of the circus while Kinger and Queenie sat ahead of them on their thrones. The king and queen shared a nervous yet hopeful look, two emotions that could go either way depending on what the topic of conversation that were about to have. It only made the prince and jester all the more nervous.

“Thank you for joining us Pomni, I’m glad that our son is being a good host to you,” Queenie greeted, bowing her head to the girl.

“Well, he has become a very good friend to me over the past few days,” Pomni gave the prince a smile before focusing back on the queen, “If you don’t mind me asking your majesty, but why have you summoned us all here?”

“Hey, it’s okay kiddo,” Kaufmo walked up to her. Pomni detached her arm from Jax’s to put her hands in her father’s, the rabbit already missing the warmth of her touch. “They’ve already informed us that there is nothing to worry about.”

Pomni exhaled shakily, nodding. Though her nerves would get the best of her at times, Kaufmo’s voice was always something that kept her slightly grounded ever since she was a child. Even Motley’s purring added to that as well. With a final breath, she turned to the king and queen, ready to hear whatever they had to say.

Kinger cleared his throat, rising from his throne, “As you know, we’ve had our guards roam outside of our kingdom to make sure that Caine or his men haven’t been planning another invasion. Well, we’ve just had a report back and they’ve told us that the outer realm has been clear of them since the last attack.”

“We’ve told them to do one last surveillance before their final report, just to make sure that Caine isn’t lurking,” Queenie continued, “However, since there’s not been any sightings, we believe that it is safe for you to continue with your travels.”

 “So, how long do you determine that we stay in the castle?” Ragatha asked, “During the last surveillance.”

“Unless anything else comes back, I’d say you should stay at least one more week before you believe that you should go,” Queenie confirmed.

Several of the cast members let out a sigh of relief, the anxiety of Caine’s lurking washing away at the thought of being free to travel again. Though a bittersweetness hung in the air. The kingdom had been nothing but supportive and accommodating to them in their time of need. What was supposed to be a short time here to entertain the subjects here had turned into the kindest experience any of them had ever received in their entire lives.

For Pomni? While the thought of seeing new places (and being as far away from Caine as possible) thrilled her to her core. For the first time in her life, she actually wanted to stay. Don’t get her wrong, she still had her dreams of travelling the realms, to let audiences hear her songs - not watch her acts or witness her powers, but to listen to her songs. To listen to her singing. To listen to her.

But if she closed her eyes for a moment, only a moment, she wanted to let herself pretend. Pretend that she had a place here, to wake up in the morning and plan to do whatever she pleased, to go out into town and greet the other people of the kingdom as though she were one of them too. To sing in the town centre for whoever wanted to stop and hear her.

And perhaps, in the far back of her mind, she would go up to the castle and be greeted by a pair of yellow eyes and a Cheshire grin. Where he would take her hands into his and ask about her day, stroll in the gardens with her as he listened to whatever plans she wanted to venture. To listen to the songs that she only reserved for him and him alone. And until the midnight sky, watching the stars twinkle amongst the inky blanket of the nightly heavens, he would hold her in his arms, a silent promise that he would always love her. No matter what.

But now, she realised that there was no way to have that fantasy be real. Yes, Caine wasn’t spotted by any of the guards, but it didn’t change the fact that he was still out there. Still waiting for the chance to strike and get his hands on her and her powers. As long as Caine was after her, she could never have the life she dreamed of living.

Jax looked over the side of his shoulder, worry striking him when he saw Pomni’s crestfallen expression and the glazed look in her eyes. While he was sad that she was leaving (and deep down prayed that she could stay), a part of him believed that there would be some joy in the fact that she could finally be free to leave. He knew that something was wrong, “Pomni, what’s wrong?”

Pomni wanted to cry right there and then at how kind his words sounded, at how far the prince had come from the stereotype she expected from him. Why couldn’t she just keep hating him, why did he charm and endear her so much that she had to fall in love with him! It could have made everything so much easier. She wanted to tell him how much she wanted to stay, tell him all of the potential plans she could have had here, and how much she wanted him to be part of them. But the words kept getting stuck in her throat, as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her neck, silencing her from making any word that would ruin Jax too.

“However,” Kinger’s voice rang through the room. “There is one last thing we would like to do before you all take your leave.”

Pomni didn’t know whether to feel eased or frustrated at the sudden interruption.

“We would like to host a ball in your honour near the end of the week,” Queenie announced, “To thank you for all that you have done here.”

“For what we’ve done?” Ragatha titled her head in confusion, “Your majesty, you and your family are the ones who took care of us in our time of need?

Queenie eyes softened, a glimmer of a smile flickering in her gaze. A kind look that Jax knew all too well from his mother. “Yes, you and your family may have been under our care,” Queenie confirmed, “But it does not take away from the fact that you have all been an incredible presence in our kingdom. You have brought smiles to everyone, not just from your performances, but by simply being your best true selves for everyone to see. Even if you didn’t bring your tricks or talents, the moment you stepped out into town you all saw the world as authentic and beautiful, that’s what brought our subjects to you. That mind view is an incredible ability to possess, you’re lucky. Many people lack it. That’s why we want to celebrate you, for all of you cherishing the kindness that our kingdom was built upon. Doing that is the greatest thing our foreigners and travellers can do, that is why the entire kingdom is invited, so they can say one more final thank you and goodbye for all that you have done for us.”

Each member looked to one another, like a sparkler had been lit within their souls as they grinned at the prospect of a ball. Neither one of them had been to one before, mostly they would stay as long as they would need to in the town they were performing in, do the performance they rehearsed day and night to do before finally leaving up the time their shows were finished. They had only heard what happened at balls through whispers of stories from the other common folk. And now they could finally be a part of one.

Excited murmurs broke out between them, wondering what they could wear, where they could get their garments, what colours they should choose, what type of jewellery they would wear if they decided to wear them at all. There was just so many choices in so little time! It was all so amazing!

Pomni felt herself smiling. A ball. Like everyone else, she had never been to one. But Kaufmo’s fairytales left so many fantasies in her mind. When she was a teenager - after a rough night of performing and dealing with Caine’s wrath - she would dream about being at a ball, wearing the loveliest gown while dancing under the stars. Sometimes those dreams would include a handsome prince or princess sweeping her off her feet, taking her far away from all that hurt her.

She looked to Jax. She may be leaving after the end of the week, but it was still one night to have all her dreams come true. Even if it would only last for so long. “So,” she lightly nudged Jax’s shoulder, “I’m guessing you already have a plus one to bring to the ball. A princess no doubt.”

“Well I am planning on asking someone,” Jax confirmed. Pomni felt her face fall a bit, a little piece of her was hoping he would ask her. Huh, she never expected that thought to enter her mind. “She might not be a princess, but she has the spirit of one for sure.”

“Oh,” Pomni fiddled with her ring finger, “Well, she’s lucky if you’re the one who’s wanting to ask her.”

“I’m the lucky one if she says yes little lady,” he grinned, “Or rather, if you say yes.”

Pomni’s head snapped up.

“You really think I wouldn’t be asking you?” Jax chuckled, “Did you not see what I was like when I met you? Maybe you hit your head harder than you thought before I heroically saved you.”

“Shut up,” she shoved his lightly in the chest, unable to stop her own laughter from joining his. “I’ve never been to a ball hosted by royalty, I thought since you’re the prince that it was required for you to ask a princess or a noble to join you.”

“Maybe in other kingdoms,” he nodded, “But here, you’re the only lady I want by my side that night.” His breath wavered as his face went serious. His hands slightly shaky as he prepared himself for his next question. Years of his ego being his defining personality trait, to be able to get away with the most rioting pranks and wild parties, it all melted away when asking the girl of his dreams to a simple ball.

And this was the same prince who revelled in the promise of danger.

“Pomni,” he began, taking her hand still on his chest into his own, lacing their fingers together. “Would you do me the honour of accompanying me to the ball?”

She squeezed his hand, her stomach doing an excited little flip as she answered, “I’d love to.” The jester heard a disgruntled cough coming from behind her, and by Jax’s pale expression, she could tell who it was. She turned, coming face to face with Kaufmo, Ragatha and Moon, each of them wearing a stern look on their faces. “Pa, it’s okay. He asked and I agreed.”

“Don’t worry kiddo, I know you did. I trust you,” Kaufmo replied reassuringly to his daughter. “I just have a warning for the prince.”

Jax gulped at the three cold stares coming from the trio, if looks could kill then he was fairly sure he would be singing with the angels right about now. “Let me make this very clear,” Kaufmo began, “If Pomni is even slightly sad at the ball because of you, then I have no hesitation to let Ragatha use you as cat food for her lions.”

The ragdoll nodded, glaring at him with all her might. Moon didn’t even have to say anything, but the way she stood with Ragatha was enough to tell him that she had no problem assisting the redhead. He whipped his head to his parents, who hadn’t uttered a word during this whole ordeal.

“Don’t look at me,” Queenie put her hands up. “I’m not the one to judge a father for being protective over his daughter. Besides, he has a right to be wary of you darling.”

Jax shrugged with a nod, he couldn’t disagree there. He looked back at Pomni, her cheeks slightly flushed with a humoured smile on her lips after that whole interaction. How did she manage to look so beautiful in every way? He probably had a lovesick look on his face again, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care because this was her, nothing else mattered. “Well in that case,” he picked up her hand again, revelling in the way her cheeks flushed even more, “I can’t wait to see you there, my little lady.” He pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, forcing himself not to laugh as he heard a silent squeal erupting from the back of her throat.

“A-and, I-I,” Pomni cleared her throat, straightening her back again and regaining the calmness she had before. “And I you, your highness.” She then enclosed his hand in both her palms, with the upmost gentleness she started running her thumb over his fingers, like he had done so with her hand earlier. All without breaking eye contact with him, she smirked when it was his turn for him to get all flustered.

She let go, giving him a small curtsy, “Now if you don’t mind, I’m fairly certain that the rest of the ladies and non-gender affirming friend are going to drag me to help them find ballgowns soon.”

Jax spluttered, trying to find the words that were in his head a few seconds ago. How on earth did this tiny powerful woman have this much of a hectic effect on him only from touching his hand?! “Y-yeah, I’m pretty sure my father will be doing that but for me,” he wasn’t able to focus on anything but the faint tingling of where her fingers had been on his hand, sending little shocks up the nerves on his arm. He flexed his hand, letting his fingers stretch to see if it would make any difference. The tingling only increased, his fur fluffing up at his neck at the reaction. He huffed fondly, worth it. “I look forward to seeing how beautiful you look.”

She raised her brow at him, rolling her eyes as he chuckled. He was always just so him wasn’t he? But it’s also why you fell in love with him, isn’t it? She sighed, yes, it was. In the amount of since she met him, he had become a far cry of what she believed him to be from the tales she heard. He had proven to be kind, noble and brave. Though still a little bit of a trickster, a good man and a good prince with a tender heart was all she could see. And soon she would have to leave all that behind.

She opened her mouth to say something, she wanted to say something, but she found herself being pulled away by Ragatha, Moon, Gangle and Zooble. Just like she had suspected, they were pulling her away to start dress shopping. “I’m afraid we’ll have to continue our conversation later!” she called out to Jax, looking over her shoulder while Motley jumped out of her arms and trotted back to the prince as she was dragged out of the ballroom.

Jax laughed at the scene in front of him, picking up the kitten and placing him on his shoulder, “I look forward to it.”

Pomni gave him one final smile, before joining in with the excited chatter with the rest of the ladies and Zooble.

However, once she was out of sight, did Jax let himself frown. The girl seemed so strangely down all morning, quieter and more reserved, less of the usual spunk than he had come to expect. Had something happened? Did he do something to offend her? Whatever it was he should at least try and make it up to her.

“You’re overthinking,” A familiar voice murmured. Jax turned to face his father walking towards him.

“I inherited it from you, old man,” the prince snickered. Kinger’s face didn’t move an inch, not willing to change the topic of conversation just yet. Jax sighed, “I’m worried about Pomni. She hasn’t really been herself much this morning. I didn’t want to pry into what it is cause its none of my business and I don’t wanna push her, she already felt pretty stressed out when she told me about her past. I don’t wanna add anymore onto that. But I can tell that something’s wrong, and I hate feeling helpless. I just want to protect her.”

Kinger hummed. He had heard this monologue many decades ago from when he was around Jax’s age. He should know, for Kinger was the one who said it too. “When I fell in love your mother, I was a wreck,” the king began. “Despite going round in circles to think of a way to win her heart, I also had other thoughts in my head as well. I worried that I could never protect her the way I wanted to, she could be sad for only a moment and I would panic that I had done something to hurt her. But when he married and grew together, I had to realise that I wasn’t a magical knight from a story book. Even with my crown I was only a man who loved his wife deeply. It hurts when we have to come to turns that we cannot protect everyone – including the ones we love – but no matter what we still try. We try because we know that it’s better for them to be in our lives than to lose them. We can do what we can and that’s all right, for what is love than the desire to guard what we care for the most?”

Clarity never hit Jax harder than it did right here in this moment. He lifted the hand that Pomni touched again, shifting his fingers where hers had been. His father was right. Even the biggest dam in all of the world would never be able to stop a crack, letting a flood release. And even if he wanted to, he knew that there were bigger forces out there who would do nothing but take Pomni for themselves. He squeezed his hand into a fist, but they would have to kill him first before ever hurting Pomni ever again. Even if he were to fall, her safety would forever and always come first for him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “It is.”

Kinger felt warmth radiate through him, it had been so long since he heard that part of his son speak so earnestly. He missed him, “Come now, it’s time we get you fitted. I’m sure you’ll want to look your best for your lady-friend at the ball.”

He snickered as he heard his son’s splutters, it was fun getting under Jax’s skin sometimes. A little petty revenge if that’s what you want to call it.

From the side, Kaufmo stood, hearing everything they had just said. For the first time, since Jax saved her, he was able to see clearly about what Pomni saw in the prince.

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.

Pomni was panicking. Which wasn’t a complete shock. Tomorrow was the ball and she had spent the entire week helping everyone else pick out their gowns expect for herself. The ladies had insisted on finding what colour would flatter her the most, but she had turned away in favour of finding something for them, insisting that she would find a garment for herself soon. And yet, here she was. Gown-less and nearing a mental breakdown.

She groaned, honestly she blamed herself. She had been so caught up in the nightmares that she had and the future aftermath of the ball. Caine would always be breathing down her neck, something she would never be able to shake away even after they escaped from him the first time, and soon she would be returning to that fear. When she met Jax, somehow his foolishness and change in behaviour had been able to forget about her worries for a while, despite their first meeting. He only had to say one word and the rest of the world didn’t matter, it was just bliss. Soon, she wouldn’t have that anymore. She’d soon return to surviving for herself and her family, looking over her shoulder constantly to make sure a pair of blue and green eyes wouldn’t be staring back at her.

She just wanted to be selfish, just once and stay here. Stay with Jax, stay in the kingdom, stay in the life that she oh so wanted to have. But the thought of Caine harming Jax because of his obsession with her powers was a risk that she never wanted to take…after all, it was the same risk that her village was raided and burned to the ground.

How dare you think of that, how dare you even think about staying. You could lose everything just because of your entitlement you stupid girl! Pomni felt tears well up in her eyes, You’re selfish! Selfish! Selfish! Selfish! Selfish-

A knock at her door broke her away from her panic, wiping away her tears and smoothing down the fabric of her skirt. “Just coming!” she hoped her voice didn’t give away the fact that she had been crying.

She had expected either Ragatha or Kaufmo to show up at her door, so it was quite the shock when it was Queenie who had appeared, holding a large yet flat box under her arm. “Apologies, I don’t mean to intrude Pomni but I…Oh darling, what happened?” the queen asked, her brows furrowing with worry.

Pomni wanted to rub at her eyes again, to hide any evidence of her tears. But the queen had already put the box down and took the jester’s hands into hers, leaving Pomni unable to hide. “It’s nothing, your majesty,” Pomni brushed off her worries, “Please, don’t mind me, I’ll be okay.”

“Oh honey,” The queen wrapped her arms around the girl, “This is a safe place, your tears aren’t nothing. Whatever it is you’re feeling, don’t ever be afraid to say it.” 

Pomni typically wasn’t one for physical touch, usually it was reserved for those she was close with like Kaufmo or Ragatha – and now it included Jax. But this was different. Queenie’s warmth reminded her of a familiar touch that she had not received in a long time. A touch of a mother reassuring her child that everything was going to be okay. And though Pomni couldn’t remember her face, that small yet significant warmth from her mother stayed with the girl throughout her life. And now, she was receiving the same touch from Queenie, another mother who fiercely loved her son.

Pomni clutched onto the queen, her small body shaking with silent sobs. Queenie was patient and gentle the whole time, rubbing her hand up and down the jester’s back, shushing in her ear like how she did with Jax when he was young whenever he got scared or bruised his knee. She had only heard snippets from Jax about what the girl’s childhood what like, he didn’t tell her everything, after all, only Pomni could be the one to detail her past to another. But what she heard was enough for her to know that this poor girl had went through hell and back. She wasn’t surprised to see Jax so protective over her after their day at the village festival, whatever Pomni had told him there was enough for him to guard her with everything he had.

Once the girl was quiet, she pulled away, leaning into the queen’s touch when the latter lifted her hands to Pomni’s face and brushed her tears away. “Are you okay to tell me what wrong my dear?” Queenie asked, as kindly and patiently as she could.

Now Pomni understood how Jax was able to show kindness the way he did. “Is it…is it wrong for me wanting to stay?” Pomni spoke softly, as though a single wrong word would make everything crumble. “I love my family, and I’m so grateful for the hospitality that you’ve given us and I can’t wait to get back on the road again, but...I never had a real home in so long. That isn’t to mean Kaufmo and the others aren’t! They have always been my home. I’m just…I’m so tired of running. I’m tired of not being able to live a normal life and pursue my dreams because of the threat of one man. Your kingdom, that has been a home for me after so long. For the first time in my life I didn’t have to run, I could be safe in the knowledge that I was protected…and Jax. Your son has to be one of the sweetest people I have ever met, despite his reputation. But the thought of leaving here? It already makes me feel homesick thinking about it…I-I’m sorry your majesty I didn’t mean to overload you with all of that!”

Queenie had not spoken a word, letting Pomni take the time she needed in order to let out everything that was tying her down to the ground, like releasing her from being chained to a boulder. Pomni had more pages than the heaviest book in the world, each piece unfolding a new layer of her that made the queen’s heart ache for the girl. “My darling, I am queen of a kingdom where people need to unload on me,” Queenie told her. “It is my job to help those who cannot help themselves. Do not apologise for letting yourself feel. You might not be my subject, but that does not mean I will not take your problems seriously.”

Was this what having a mother was like? She wouldn’t trade Kaufmo for the world, but that never stopped the lingering curiosity of what her own mother would have been like. All she had left of her mother were blurry images in her mind, the powers she shared with her, and her love of music. If her mother was still here would she offer her the same comfort and security that Queenie did for her in only a few short moments? It was times like this, times her soul twinged with sorrow and doubt when she wished that her life was different. That it could be of her own making. She would be in her village, under the care and singing day and night with her mother, only traveling when she wanted to find new places to play her songs, meet the other members of the circus under different circumstances, and fall in love with Jax without having to worry about leaving him.

Why did life choose her to be so cruel to?

“Thank you, your majesty,” Pomni bowed her head in appreciation, “I’m sorry again for such a heavy topic.”

“You must learn to stop saying sorry, dear,” there was a joking tone in Queenie’s voice as she wagged her finger at Pomni, “Otherwise I’ll have to make a rule to ban you from saying it.”

Pomni laughed at that, tears of mirth pricking in the corners of her eyes instead.

Queenie’s eyes smiled, softening as her hands encased the jester’s again, “Not every bad thing that happens is your fault. Please hold onto that information for when you travel again…Pomni, it’s not my place but if you were to stay, we would be more than happy to protect you from Caine.”

Pomni’s face fell, “That’s the thing your majesty. Caine always comes up with new plans, if I stayed he wouldn’t stop terrorizing this kingdom until he gets what he wants, No one is powerful enough to stop him.”

“He managed to get arrested once,” Queenie pointed out, “He can be again.”

“He also managed to escape,” Pomni said, her face saddening once again. “You’d think someone with powers like mine that I could be able to do something. But even now, he still has a hand around my neck. I could be the strongest person alive yet I’d still be too scared to face him. You have…you have no idea what he put us through.” Her heart squeezed, she felt so damn pathetic.

“I don’t know what he’s done, but I do know that you didn’t deserve it,” Queenie told her. “Never feel ashamed for feeling afraid because of what that monster did to you. Do what makes you feel safest my darling, and if you ever want to come back our castle doors are always open.”

Pomni sniffed, a smile brightening her face once again, “Jax is lucky to have you.”

“And he’s lucky to have you too,” the queen teased, humming laughter as the jester started gasping and stuttering. “Now, speaking of Jax. I understand that he asked you to be his plus one for the ball. I hope it’s not inappropriate but I do have something that you could wear. If you don’t already.”

“I-I don’t,” Pomni’s jaw fell a little in surprise at the kind gesture. “You didn’t have to do that your majesty, not for me.”

“Nonsense,” Queenie shook her head, picking up the box from the ground and bringing it over to Pomni’s bed. “Every girl deserves to have something nice for themselves. Besides, I was hoping you would wear this.”

Pomni bit her lip, the queen had a pleading look in her eyes. Whatever was in that box, it was enough to convince the jester that whatever was in it held significant importance to the royal. “Okay, um, I’d like to look at it,” Pomni answered, fidgeting with her hands for a moment.

The queen lit up, like a sun shining in the jester’s direction as the chess piece’s fingers went lift up the lid of the box. As soon as it was removed, Pomni’s breath hitched at the contents on the inside. What laid in the box was nothing short of the twilight sky stitched and sewn together into a ballgown. It was too much, “Your majesty, I can’t have this! Someone like me shouldn’t wear this!”

“Someone like you is perfect for this gown,” Queenie stated. “It was a gift to me in my younger years, from a good friend of mine in another kingdom. She wanted me to wear this, saying that it would be worn when I was with my true love. I never had a chance to wear it, after all Kinger was already courting me and I didn’t feel good enough to wear it. Ironic, I know. However, something tells me that this dress wasn’t meant for me.” She looked away from the gown to face Pomni again. “But perhaps it was for you.”

“I…” Pomni was speechless, truly. The gown that laid in the box looked as though it was worth all the gems in the realm, if she were to wear that, she would literally be wearing that costed millions. Yet the queen believed that it was perfect for her. She had said it so earnestly that Pomni couldn’t find it in herself to turn it away. “Thank you, your majesty,” Pomni bowed, “I promise to take care of it during the ball.”

“As long as you’re having fun as yourself, then that’s all I care about,” the queen told her. “Now, let me help you get ready. I have an idea on what makeup would go well with that gown.”

Pomni giggled as the queen rushing over to her vanity at the other end of the room. Pomni ran her fingers over the gown’s fabric, perhaps she was worth more than what she believed.

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Jax pulled at the collar of his shirt. His suit was nowhere near uncomfortable, but it didn’t stop the anxiety coursing through his veins. The suit in question was consisted of a long navy-blue waistcoat, with ruby embroidery along the lapels and cuffs with matching trousers with the same crimson detailed design. Underneath the button coat was a white blouse with a ruffled collar and a pendant on top, with the final addition of his outfit being a red rose tucked into his breast pocket.

Why was he so nervous you ask? It was all because of Pomni. She had yet to arrive, and though the ball hadn’t started yet, both guests and the circus group had already flooded the ballroom. He hadn’t seen any of the nobles yet, well, the nobles that he normally couldn’t stand. When asking his parents about the matter, they had merely shrugged with a mischievous glint in their eyes, yet it told Jax exactly what they did. And they’re still surprised by the fact that I turned out to be a trickster he grinned to himself.

His hands were shaking. What if something happened to her while she was getting ready? What is she hurt herself and wasn’t able to attend? What if Caine somehow managed to get into the castle and swiped her away?! Oh god he had to go get her-!

“Relax prince boy,” a hand grabbed him by the back of his coat, dragging him back before he could run off. He scowled, turning to see who did that, when he came face to face with Gangle and Zooble. The girl he had rudely pushed upon their first meeting, and her justifiably angry partner. “Pomni’s fine, Gangle went to check up on her a while ago.”

“How did you know I was thinking about Pomni?” he questioned, raising a brow.

“Gee, it’s not like you’ve been spending every waking moment glued to her side ever since she came here,” Zooble replied sarcastically, rolling their eyes at the rabbit’s question.

“Zooble,” Gangle hissed, “Be nice, please.” The body of ribbons looked back at him, not as upset as he thought she would be after their interaction when they met. She was wearing a sleeveless gown the same colour as her ribbons, with a full skirt and rubies sewn atop of it. Zooble was wearing a suit of the same colour, no doubt wanting to match his sweet girlfriend. “Pomni will be here soon, your mother kinda overwhelmed her while getting ready.”

The prince sighed. “Of course she did,” he shook his head fondly at Queenie’s direction, the woman was laughing with her husband at whatever joke he had come up with. He looked back to Gangle, who was looking up at Zooble with nothing but love in her eyes, the other doing the same. He hadn’t apologised to her for what he did, yet she still talked to him as though he had only brushed her shoulder on that day. He wouldn’t blame her if she were to be as upset as their hot-headed partner, yet she didn’t. That only made the guilt sting all the more.

She deserved an apology. “Listen, uh, Gangle right?” he asked, making the ribboned lady look up at him with worried eyes. She probably thought that he was going to be mean to her again, it only rubbed more salt into the wound. Jax was sure Zooble was going to kill him right there and then with the way she was glaring at him. He gulped, “Listen, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry for how I treated you when we met. It was ignorant and entitled of me to do that to you and how I treated Pomni as well. I genuinely care for your friend and I’m extremely ashamed of how poorly I was to you. I deeply apologize.”

There was shift in the way Gangle looked at him, she didn’t look as worried as she was before, her posture was straighter as she gazed at him with intent in her mind. “Thank you for your apology your highness,” she replied, “Though I’m still not happy with you pushing me, I’m glad you’re able to realise the error of your ways.”

“Of course,” he nodded, “And please, call me Jax. If I’m going to make a fresh start, I would like if you could call me by my name.”

Gangle smiled, a new determination flickering when she saw this new side of the prince, “Very well, thank you Jax.”

“I’m still onto you,” Zooble growled. “But…I’m glad you’re not a total dickhead…you’re still pretty dumb though.”

“Zooble!” Gangle hissed.

A snort escaped from Jax, surprising the couple when a loud belly laugh boomed throughout the ballroom. The laugh lacked any type of maliciousness or was mean-spirited, it was just a hearty yet a pure and honest carefree laugh. “They-” he snickered, “They aren’t wrong! I haven’t had the brightest ideas in my lifetime.”

Both the body of ribbons and the assortment of shapes were a little surprised by the prince’s reaction. They were fairly certain that he would have made some sort of passive aggressive comment or even get angry at Zooble. But no. It was the same sort of laugh that one of them would have whenever Kaufmo told one of his better jokes or when they all had fun as a family. Zooble smirked, “See Gangle, princey doesn’t mind.”

Gangle groaned, rolling her eyes, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Hmmm, love me forever?” Zooble retorted cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows.

“If I have to,” Gangle couldn’t keep the grin off her face, resting her head onto Zooble’s shoulder.

Jax’s laughter ebbed away, a softness lacing his heart. That tenderness and comfort the couple shared with one another, he couldn’t help but imagine it with him and Pomni. To let her feel safe with him no matter what, to share sweet moments with him with no other prying eyes. But after tonight, she’ll be gone, along with his wish for all of that. All this because of a power-hungry man who kept her in a state of fright ever since childhood, it wasn’t fair for someone as sweet as Pomni.

“Ah, I see the prince has graced our presence,” a soft voice spoke. He looked up to see that it was Ragatha’s voice he had heard, with Sun and Moon by her side and Kaufmo trailing behind her. She looked towards Gangle and Zooble, “He hasn’t given you two any trouble, has he?”

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Zooble said, “He came over to apologise to Gangle.”

Ragatha raised a brow, shifting a little bit in her place, as if this were a small shock to her. “Did he know?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Zooble nodded, what they said next made it look like they were going to hurl just having to form it into words. “I guess I was…wrong about him. Oh god I hated saying that.” 

“Oh,” was all Ragatha said. The doll in question was wearing a backless gown of midnight blue, sleek and sparkling, no puffiness in sight as long skirt trailed behind her. She wore long silky white gloves and half of her curls were pinned up into a bun while the other red locks pooled around her shoulders.

Moon was wearing something similar, though hers was pure black with little stars stitched onto the fabric, with a double leg slit and a feathered scarf around her shoulders. Sun was wearing a red and yellow striped waistcoat and trousers, along with a simple white blouse and a black bowtie wrapped around the collar.

Lastly was Kaufmo, whose waistcoat and trousers were sewn with a fine grey silk with what seemed to be music notes embroidered into the lapels and cuffs. He pulled at the collar a few times, he hadn’t worn something like this before so it was a bit new to him. But he looked happy with his new attire.

“Well,” Ragatha’s voice broke Jax out of his trance again, “I’m glad you weren’t up to anything foolish, after all I still have two very hungry lions.”

“Don’t forget the meat cleaver you have darling,” Moon pointed out, “It would be such a shame to see such a lovely tool go to waste.”

“Uh…and I’m here!” Sun cheered, not wanting to be left out. While it did relieve some of the tension, it didn’t stop Jax from shrinking under the glares of the women.

“While I support your protection over my daughter,” Kaufmo interrupted, placing a hand on Ragatha’s shoulder, “Let’s wait until the prince does anything before charging headfirst. Besides, something tells me that he would want to join in with that protection as well.” The clown gave Jax a knowing wink. “But make no mistake, you hurt her and not even the guards will stop Ragatha and Moon with what they want to do with you.”

Jax gulped, “Understood, sir.” Despite the obvious threat, the fact that he had Kaufmo’s acknowledgement about how much he cared for Pomni made Jax want to sing. The clown trusted the prince, and Jax wasn’t going to let him down. Pomni mattered to him just as much as she mattered to Kaufmo, there was no way he was going to break that trust.

“I’m surprised that little Motley cat isn’t with you,” Sun said, “Other than Pomni, you two are practically glued together.”

Jax was about to open his mouth to say another word, until a small mew interrupted him. The group looked at him with wide eyes, the sound not going unnoticed. The rabbit sighed, reaching into the side of his coat pocket and pulled Motley out, the little kitten wearing a blue bowtie around his neck.

Everyone’s mouth fell open, it was quite the sight indeed.

“This little bugger insisted that he should join me tonight,” Jax defended.

“Right, a non-speaking animal somehow managed to convince you to let him come to the ball,” Zooble drawled with doubt.

Jax frowned, though he didn’t feel mad. So far, everything was going well. The guests were happy, he had Motley in his arms, there were no sign of the nobles, the music was lovely, the food was delicious, his parents were delighted and he had won over the favour of the circus group. All that was missing is-

“-Pomni,” Kaufmo’s eyed widened as he gazed up to the staircase leading out of the ballroom.

The rest of the group followed the clown’s eyes, their own jaws dropping when they say who he was looking at. The rest of the ballroom had gone silent as well, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Jax whipped round, wondering why everyone was reacting the way they did…oh…he understood perfectly now.

Pomni stood at the top of the staircase, the only way to describe how she looked was breathtaking. Her gown was the most beautiful shade of purple, startling at a light pinkish lavender at the top as it faded into an amethyst shade in the middle before finishing in a plum shade at the bottom. Her skirt was full, layered with organza, rippling like raindrops on a pond. The top of the gown had off-the-shoulder sleeves with a sweetheart neckline, with glistening gem at the centrepiece. And the whole gown twinkled with little diamonds stitched into the fabric. She wore simple makeup, with her normally short hair curled and now reaching her shoulder as it gleamed under the chandeliers.

She clenched her hands, there were so many eyes on her. She didn’t have the façade of her jester persona to help her out, it was only her they were all looking at. Gathering herself, she managed a small curtsey, the shimmering layers of her skirt pooling around her. She stood again, her gown swishing as she made her way down the steps.

Jax couldn’t wipe the awestruck grin he had on his face even if he tried. Not even the stars could compare with how beautiful she looked. He handed Motley over to Kaufmo, “Sir, if you may. Could I please lead your daughter for the first dance?”

Kaufmo smiled, running his hand over the kitten’s back as he purred, “Go on, give her a dream come true.”

Not wasting a beat, Jax turned back to Pomni. He wasn’t sure if he saw him yet, so ever so slowly, he made his way towards her, the rest of the guests parting to let him through.

They had done the same with Pomni, giving her the room she needed yet not being able to take their eyes off her. A little part of her liked the attention, they weren’t drawn to her for powers or the act she had to put on, they were drawn to her for simply being her. This new feeling was strange, but nice…really nice.

She let out a small gasp when she finally saw Jax, how handsome he looked in his garments and how he looked at her as though she were the only person in the room. Her heart fluttered seeing him, making her way towards him as he did the same. Finally they met in the middle of the room, the only ones in the middle of the ballroom floor, their eyes locked onto one another.

“Prince Jax,” she breathed.

“My lady,” his voice held nothing but adoration for her. “You look absolutely exquisite.”

“I’ve been praying all day not to trip in this,” she whispered, “I think I would perish if I ruined something as lovely as this.”

  “That would be a shame, you look too beautiful in it,” Jax murmured, “Um. Pomni, would you do me the honour of letting me lead you through this first…” he trailed off. Could you blame him? She was positively stunning.

“…Dance?” she finished for him, a small grin forming on her lips.

“Uh, yes of course, dance,” he stuttered, laughing awkwardly.

Pomni took pity on him, nodding excitedly. Call her childish, but it was nothing short of magical that she actually got to dance like the princesses she read about in fairytales.

Jax’s face fell, a serious look took over yet his eyes were still soft as he brought his hand forward, pulling Pomni closer to him. The girl’s breath hitched, with these newfound feelings she had for Jax, it made this touch all the more significant. A shiver ran down her spine.

The music of the orchestra began, filling the ballroom with the sounds of the many violinists and pianists’ instruments, a soft yet heavenly tune echoing in the room. Ever so gently, Jax began to sway, with Pomni repeating his movements. Pomni gulped as he led her further into the dance, she could feel everyone’s stares despite having her back to them. Who wouldn’t? After all, she was the prince’s choice to lead the first dance with. “They’re all looking at you,” she whispered.

“Believe me,” he grinned, “They’re all looking at you.”

Normally she would have panicked at that sentence, but the gentle grasp of his warm hand on her waist kept her attention on him. He picked up her forearm with his, letting it glide up and down, “Just focus on me, okay? And follow my lead.”

Pomni nodded, her once quickening heart slowing down as she gazed into his eyes. He took her hand, carefully spinning her before she held she gently grazed the knuckles of said hand against his cheek. He threaded his fingers through her, spinning her again as the skirts of her gown fluttered around her, giving her the appearance of a butterfly.

The repeated the range of movements a few more times before Jax wrapped his arm around her waist again, pulling her closer than he did before, their noses inches from each other as he clasped his free hand into hers again. Pomni’s breath stuttered as their feet travelled around the empty space, never in her life had she felt anything so surreal, so euphoric in all her life. A carefree laugh escaped her lips as both she and Jax spun again, the prince doing the same as the picture of her lovely smile imprinted into his mind again.

He released the grip on her waist to twirl her onto the empty space on the floor, the rest of the crowd aweing at the way her gown glittered each time she spun left and right while holding onto Jax’s hand.

Not even the rest of the circus troupe could erase the butterflies they were having just by the way the prince and the jester looked at one another. It was right out of a love story. “I can’t disagree, they would make a beautiful couple,” Kaufmo remarked, with Motley letting out an agreeable mew in his arms.

“I suppose so,” Ragatha nodded, “As long as he doesn’t hurt her.”

“Don’t worry my dears, rest assured that my son would never do the following,” Queenie told them as she and Kinger snuck up behind the group.

“Your majesties,” Ragatha gasped, the rest of them quickly bowing, “Please forgive me for saying that.”

“Oh that’s alright,” Queenie snickered, “Jax has caused one too many incidents to have a reputation that’s worth your worry.”

“Though I will say, your Pomni has him wrapped around her finger,” Kinger mused as he watched the due dancing on the floor. “I haven’t seen this side of my son in so long, until your daughter arrived Kaufmo.”

“Pomni has always found a way to bright the best out in others,” Kaufmo told them, “Whether they know she’s doing it or not.”

Kinger hummed in agreement, “I can confidently say that without a doubt, this is the best ball this kingdom has ever seen.” Kaufmo nodded, the two fathers turning to look back at their children, smiling at seeing how happy they were together.

Jax had twirled Pomni a few times, still holding her by the waist until he picked her up in both arms and held her high up above him, twirling her in the air as the crowd oo’ed and clapped for the sudden display. Though it was silent compared to the chimes of her giggles at the sudden motions, bringing her back down to face level. Neither of them could stop glancing at each other’s lips, the temptation to swoop down and capture them growing stronger.

Before he could give into it, he saved himself by dipping Pomni once more time as the music slowed. It was for the best, she would be leaving tomorrow. He didn’t want to sour things more for her, not when they had come so far. He could tell by the way she was looking at him that she was silently agreeing, what they had right now was good, good enough in fact.

The music slowed to a stop, with Pomni curtsying and Jax bowing respectively as the crowd thunder into applause. The first dance of the night was a success.

They allowed themselves to breathe for a movement, unable to take their eyes off each other before the music started up again, more fun and livelier than the last. More couples ran onto the floor, including the king and queen as they chortled together while reminiscing how they used to dance when they were younger. Gangle had pulled Zooble onto the floor, squealing with excitement at the thought of dancing with her partner. Even Moon and Ragatha had decided to dance together, the latter shocked when her friend took her hand and led her into a dance.

Pomni and Jax were still together, and quite frankly, they didn’t see themselves dancing with anyone but with one another. And so, they danced again. And again, and again, and again…

After a few songs, they did have to stop eventually, panting heavily and needing food as well as drink. “I must say, you dance pretty good for someone so short,” Jax snickered, handing her a glass of water.

“Shut up, I’m just glad you didn’t stand on my dress,” Pomni retorted, giggling into her glass. She gulped down as much as she could, especially with what she was planning to do next. “Do you mind waiting for a second? There’s something I need to take care of.”

“Oh, of course, is everything alright?” he asked as she handed him back her glass.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” she reassured him, “There’s just something that I need to do.”

“Well, whatever it is, you take care of yourself,” He told her, “Alright?”

Pomni nodded, patting his hand reassuringly before disappearing into the crowd, Jax sighing fondly as he watched her walk away. He nearly jumped when he felt something rub against his leg, looking and scoffing when he saw that it was Motley. “Of course it’s you, you little shit,” he muttered, scooping up the kitten with one hand, “Alright, you had your fun. Now you’re in time out.”

“Well I must say,” Jax turned when he heard his mother’s voice, “I think this is the most you two haven’t been able to keep your hands off one another.”

“Mom!” he groaned, his ears flopping down and pressing against the back of his head as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

“What? I’m just making an observation,” she shrugged, “It does make sense though, with her leaving tomorrow.”

His ears perked back up at the mention of that, his tail twitching in discomfort. Although that statement would ring true every time he heard it, it didn’t mean he liked it. He wanted to get on his knees, beg Pomni to stay with him, stay in the kingdom where she would never worry about feeling afraid ever again. But he knew that it wouldn’t be fair for either of them. He knew as much as she wanted the freedom of her own life, the freedom of this choice was all she could have. And he didn’t want to make her feel guilty about having to travel again. Even if it meant she would be further away from him.

“I…I really love her mother,” he said, earnestly and honestly. “I have become an ocean and Pomni is a storm, raining down on me strongly without resistance, but my waters are able to take her strengths, faults, everything. But I know that…I can’t have her.”

Queenie’s face fell, her son had never looked so vulnerable in that moment. It reminded her how she felt when she fell in love with Kinger when she was her son’s age. “Oh darling,” she murmured, cupping his cheek in her hand. Even Motley had climbed up onto the prince’s shoulder, rubbing his fluffy face against Jax’s face to comfort him.

The queen was going to say another word when a single strum of a guitar made the room go silent. Both the queen and prince turned, for on the stage with the rest of the musicians was Pomni, holding onto her guitar as she looked out onto the crowd. She looked positively petrified, there were more people here than there was at the festival, the confidence slipping as doubt crept into her mind.

But when her eyes caught Jax’s, and as he smiled at her with the upmost reassurance, the doubt started to melt. She could do this, taking a breath as she faced her new audience, “This is a song that I wrote during my stay here. It’s a little bit different than what I’ve written before but I hope you all enjoy.” Her fingers pricked at the strings of her guitar before her voice rang like a bell as she began to sing.

Honey, I hate wine

But I’d gladly down a bottle of your name

Just to get another taste of you

A single drop not on my tongue would be a waste

The audience seemed to be enjoying so far, leaning next to their partners or spouses as Pomni continued to sing.

And I hate mornings

But I like waking next to you

You always wake up before I do

So I can sleep in your embrace

We burn like gentle firewood

We yearn like vines and leaves

And we settle in the comfort of

The bones that rest beneath

And I’d start drinking wine and sleeping at night

To keep your soul with mine

I’d do anything, anything, anything

Anything, anything, anything

Pomni could hear the distant murmurs in the crowd, murmurs of praise and how much they enjoyed her simple song. Her heart nearly skipped a beat form excitement as the rest of her doubts faded away. People liked her songs, people liked her. Her songs meant something!

Honey, I hate travel

But I’d man a boat to glimpse you at the shore

No stretch of miles would ever mean more

Than feeling my hands wrapped around your waist

And I hate time

The minutes shared will never last enough

No amount of time will ever be too much

And parting leaves a bitter taste

At that last word, Pomni turned her attention to Jax, who was patting the side off his leg at each beat of the song. She thought she would hate him, she despised him when hearing about all the rumours that built over the years. But now, nothing tasted as sour than the idea of leaving him tomorrow.

We burn like gentle firewood

We yearn like vines and leaves

And we settle in the comfort of

The bones that rest beneath

And I’d stop staying home and wasting time

To keep your soul with mine

I’d do anything, anything, anything

Anything, anything, anything

She would. She would do anything to change the fate that life had given them. She wanted to have that choice to stay. Jax’s eyes never left hers, not even more a second as he smiled with all the warmth he could muster. If this was truly their last night together, she was going to make it count.

And I love rain

But I’d ruin every cashmere coat I own

Before I let it wash off any kiss you stole

So they’ll keep us dry as I walk you home

We burn like gentle firewood

We yearn like vines and leaves

And we settle in the comfort of

The bones that rest beneath

And I’d lose every penny that I find

To keep your soul with mine

I’d do anything, anything, anything

Anything, anything, anything

With that final strum of her guitar, she finished her song. There was a beat, it felt like years to Pomni as she waited to hear the crowd’s final thoughts on her song. Suddenly, the audience erupted into applause, grins nearly splitting their faces.

She let out a sigh of relief, they really did like it. She placed her guitar backstage as she walked away, letting the band strike up again. She strolled towards Jax, determination set in her mind, she meant it when she said she was going to make this night count. “Another dance your highness?” she asked when she got close to him, holding out her hand, “Or are you afraid I’ll look better than you?”

Jax took her hand into his, his smile matching hers, “Little lady, you could trip and you would still look better than me.”

Pomni hummed, “You’re right, I would.”

They snickered as they want back to the dance floor, dancing the night away until the ball came to an end. It was the most magical thing Pomni had done without her powers.

.

.

.

Jax groaned as he sat up in his bed. He had been trying to get to sleep for the past few hours, but he could still feel the tingles of where Pomni’s hands had been on him while dancing. That night was going to be burned in his brain for the rest of his life. He wished she was here right now, to hold her while she ran her fingers through his ears, his fur, wherever she wanted as long as he felt that simple lingering touch.

The prince sighed, shifting as he reached his hand to find Motley, onto to find that the feline was nowhere to be found on the bed. Don’t tell me that little cretin went back down to go ham on those leftovers. He threw the sheets off his bed, ready to exit the room when there were three soft knocks on his door.

Strange, the servants didn’t use that knock and neither did his parents. He opened the door, it was Pomni holding a purring Motley. “I, um, thought I’d return him,” she spoke quietly, her voice breaking slightly, “He woke me up.”

Jax didn’t take him just yet instead leaning in slightly closer to inspect Pomni’s face. His heart plummeted when he saw dried tear stains on her cheeks, “Have you been crying?”

“W-what?” Pomni stammered, “N-no, of course not! I-it’s probably-”

“Pomni,” he spoke sternly, “I know when someone had been crying, I’m not that dumb. Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

She took a breath, walking into his room as Jax shut the door behind him. She sat on the edge of his bed, the prince sitting next to her as she cuddled Motley closer. “I sometimes have really bad nightmares,” she told him. “Well, I’ve always had them but they got worse when we escaped Caine and he came after us. Some of them are about ways on how he’d find us and how he’d make us suffer, others are…well, memories of growing up in the circus…”

Jax brows furrowed as the girl curled in on herself, making her seem smaller than usual, “And I’m guessing you had one now?”

She sniffed, nodding her head as Motley pushed his face into her neck, purring as much as he could to give comfort to the girl. Jax brought her into his arms, she let out a surprised squeak as he rubbed a hand up and down her back. “It’s okay, you’re safe here,” he told her, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” she whimpered, easing into his touch, “But I won’t be here tomorrow. And I know no one has seen Caine, but it doesn’t stop the fact that he’s still out there looking for us…looking for me.”

Jax wanted to kick himself for saying that. Why her? Why did the universe make her go through the hardest trails life had to offer? It wasn’t fair. “I know what you’re going to say if I asked you,” he ran his fingers through her hair, “But I wished in another life, you could stay.”

“Jax, I…I wish I could too,” she cried, burying her face in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that. But, just for tonight, stay…with me?” She peered up at him through her lashes, his fingers wiping her tears away. “For one night, please…be mine?”

She wrapped her hand around his, bringing it up to her face to cup her cheek, “I am yours, as you are mine.”

“For you Pomni,” he mumbled, carrying her over to the middle of his bed and laying her down, “Always.”

That night, they slept in each other’s arms. That night, they pretended tomorrow didn’t exist. That night, they weren’t Prince of Laphria or jester of the traveling circus. That night they were Pomni and Jax, two people in love.

.

.

.

Kaufmo let out a grunt as he closed the door of the trunk connected to the circus carriage, “I think that’s everything.”

“I’ll say,” Zooble whistled, “I feel like we have more than we did at the last place.”

“Well we were here longer than we have been in other places,” Pomni pointed out.

The circus troupe was outside the palace doors, finally ready to leave. The king and queen had guards to travel with them to their next location, to make sure they would have the extra protection they needed in case Caine was nearby. It had been a wonderful dream here, but like all dreams, it had to end.

Pomni was wearing the same dress she wore when she first came to the kingdom, her simple blouse, corset and pink skirt. She gave the palace one more look, out of all the places she had been to, this one was her favourite. And now she had to leave.

“The king, queen and prince had already given us our goodbyes,” said Ragatha, holding onto Moon’s hand. “Our we ready to go?”

Kaufmo looked to his daughter, “What do you say kiddo? Ready to go?”

Pomni sighed as she turned to her father, he frowned as he saw her downed expression. He hated seeing her like that. She was going to open her mouth to speak when-

“-Pomni!” Jax, it was Jax. She whipped round and saw the prince running out the palace doors and towards her.

“Jax? What’s wrong?” she asked, running over to him.

“I know we already said our goodbye inside,” he explained, “But I needed to do one more thing before you leave.”

Pomni nodded, looking back at the rest of her family, “I’ll be a minute, you finish packing.” The rest of the circus gave each other knowing looks, doing as they were told when Pomni gave them a glare. When they went back to packing, she turned back to Jax, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” his voice sounded nervous, “I just…I want you to have Motley.”

She gasped as she looked at the kitten held in Jax’s arms, the little feline already jumping into hers, “Me? Why?”

“Little monster likes you better than me, traitor,” he frowned at Motley.

Pomni stifled a laugh, “He’s a sweetheart, admit it. Plus, he loves you too. I can’t separate you too.”

“Hey, I’ll be okay,” Jax told her, “Besides, it’s better if he goes with you, to let him be a reminder of this place and…of me.”

Her breath was caught in her throat at those words, nothing could ever make her forget all that he had done for her. “Are you sure?” Pomni asked, scratching behind Motley’s ears.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he bent his knees to be eye level with the kitten. “Listen here bud, you’ve got an important mission. In case Pomni gets into trouble, I want you to protect her. If you need backup, you know where to find me. Understand?”

Mew

Motley lifted his paw, it hit Jax directly on the nose.

“Good,” Jax straightened his back, “So I guess this is my final goodbye.”

Pomni bit her lip, reaching up to kiss Jax’s cheek one last time, “Thank you for reminding me how magical life can be.”

Jax’s breath hitched. He could barely recover from her hands, how could he recover from her lips?! She gave him a tiny grin, that jester was going to be the death of him, “You’re welcome Pomni.”

With that, she curtsied once more before running back to the carriage and hopping inside. There was a call from Kaufmo upfront as he pulled on the reins connected to the horses on front, giving them the command to walk as the guards followed on their own horses.

Jax watched as the carriage was pulled further away from him. And further, and further, and further. Then, it was gone. Pomni was gone.

He sighed, lifting his feet and going back into the castle. He didn’t retreat to his room or to his studies though. In fact, hours after the circus had left, he had been pacing back in forth in the throne room, his arms crossed behind his back while the prince was deep in thought. It caused the staff to alert the king and queen at once, leaving the royals to watch their son as he continued to pace.

“Oh the poor boy,” Queenie cooed as she peered through the crack of the door, “Pomni must have left quite the impact.”

“Tell me about it,” Kinger agreed, “I’m fairly certain that his brain has never worked that hard in its life.”

“Shush,” Queenie whacked him lightly on the shoulder, “This is a good thing. It’s not the bad type of thinking he’s having.”

“Then what exactly is on his mind then?” Kinger titled his head to the side.

“Well there’s only one way to find out,” she took her husband’s hand leading him into the throne room. Jax didn’t even notice them come in, still pacing back and forth as his mind kept storming. “What are you thinking about darling?”

The prince let out a yelp, jumping a few feet before facing his parents with a hand to his heart, “You have to stop sneaking up on me like that!”

“I apologise, but you’ve been so caught up in your head for the past few hours,” Queenie told him, her brows furrowing with concern, “We were worried.”

“Please,” Kinger went up to his son, placing a hand on his shoulder, “Tell us what’s on your mind.”

“Well I…,” Jax sighed, clenching and opening his fists, feeling slightly anxious for what he was going to say next. He hadn’t said or done anything that he was thinking about right now, only hoping that it was the right thing to say and do. “I’ve been having a lot of perspective for the past few weeks, about my place in the world and my role as prince. Even since I was young, I was told that I didn’t belong, that I never deserved my title and I started to believe it. I pitied myself for so long that it blinded me to the potential that I had for myself and for the people of my kingdom. When Pomni came into my life, it opened my eyes to see how fortunate I actually am and what I can be able to do. Knowing what she went through, it made me realise just how privileged and lucky I am, and how I’m able to use my power do help people like her. The nobles were wrong about me, wrong about my dreams being too childish, there is nothing childish about wanting better in this kingdom.”

He took a deep breath before continuing, “That’s why I wanna open a home, a home for people who need to seek shelter if they don’t have it, whether they are from our kingdom or somewhere else. To protect them and give them a life until they can stand on their feet again. I want to give them the safety and security that they were denied. I know that I’m able to do this, I want to do this. I am worth the title of Prince and Heir of Laphria.”

Both Queenie and Kinger were speechless, never before had they heard their son speak with the most graceful confidence. This wasn’t like the times when he spoke with arrogance, no, nothing that he had said held no vanity or selfishness. For the first time, he was speaking like a true prince. “That’s a wonderful idea Jax,” Kinger beamed, sharing a pleased look with his wife, “And you doubted that you’d be a good king.”

“Look at my baby growing up,” Queenie cupped his cheeks in her hands, pressing little kisses to his forehead and cheeks as the rabbit flushed.

“M-mom!” he tried not to grin at the attention, but his wagging tail gave him away.

Mew

He froze at a familiar meow, facing the window when he heard something scratching at it. There was a small little blob on the other side, is that? Jax opened the window, Motley immediately jumping into his arms. “Woah, woah buddy what are you doing here?” he checked him over, his front little paw was bruised as the poor thing was shaking, “What happened?”

The doors of the throne room slammed open, two guards panting and bleeding as they staggered through. “Oh goodness! Someone assist them and get them some water!” Queenie demanded to the nearby maids, the royals and servants rushing over to them. They were led to one of the nearby sitting rooms, urged to sit down and drink until they could get their energy back to speak. One of the servants had brought an ice pack for Motley, Jax immediately took it and held it to his paw while another servant wrapped his paw.

“Easy buddy,” he whispered to the kitten, still trembling in fear. “You’re okay.”

“Don’t force yourself,” Kinger instructed when one of the guards tried to begin speaking, “Tell us what happened at your own pace.”

“We…ugh…we were leading the circus through the forest, there was no sign of danger so far,” the guard began to describe the scene. “But they appeared out of nowhere. We tried to fight back but they were too strong, as though they were having some assistance.”

“What are you talking about? Who attacked you?” Jax was starting to panic. The circus had been promised safe travel and if anything happened to them…he didn’t want to imagine it.

“Caine,” the guard continued, “He and his men jumped out and attacked us. We had the upper hand but then there was this red mist and…” he trailed off, his pupils shrinking as he remembered the horrors of what his mind had deceived him with.

“Easy, easy,” the queen soothed him. “The circus, are they alright?”

“We don’t know,” the second guard spoke up, “We were lucky enough to escape to come back and warn you, but…”

“But? But what?!” Jax raised his voice, he didn’t mean to but fear was rushing through is veins. If anything happened to-

“Pomni,” the guard said, making Jax’s heart stop. “Before we escaped, Caine took Pomni.”

Song Credit: Anything, Anything, Anything by Madds Buckley

[ala-baguette]

Just finished reading Knowing Where to Look, what a beautiful piece of fiction!! Congrats on finally finishing it, you must feel very accomplished :)

... and if you ever feel inspired to write a whole fic about Ben Harrows, the love of my life, nobody will try to stop you 😂

There is no surer form of flattery than someone telling me they love one of my OCs even one tiny iota as much as they love the canon characters. Thank you! While a whole fic about Ben Harrows is unlikely (tempting, but that would be a rather niche target audience), I have no doubt Ben will have a few cameos in future fics here and there. I love him too much to say a true goodbye to Ben. However...while not exactly a fic, what I can offer you now is an excerpt from my initial outline (circa 2009) containing the character analysis and (rather depressing) backstory I wrote for Ben. Definite KwtL spoilers, so if you have not read it, proceed at your own risk!

Ben, at first glance appears to be a highly open, out-going, fun-loving sort of individual who says what he thinks.  He is all goofy smiles and wit and charm and is loved by everyone who meets him.  The truth of the matter is, however, in certain areas, Ben is quite the reverse from what people think.  Early on, he discovered subconsciously or otherwise, that if he was loquacious and friendly, those around him received the impression that he had told them everything, and thus they did not bother to look deeper.  If he talked about the insignificant enough, they forgot to ask about the significant.  There are certain aspects of his life which he discusses with no one.  He is, in reality, extremely private when it comes to these things. This is a product of his upbringing and, of course, past trauma.

Ben, born ‘Brian O’Harrow’, was born in Belfast in 1972.  He is, in the technical definition of the word, Muggle-born, however, he was never ignorant of magic. 

Ben’s mother, Fiona, was the younger sister of a Muggle-born wizard, Eamon O’Callaghan.  Growing up, Fiona and Eamon were very close and Eamon was very protective of his little sister.  Fiona, therefore, heard all about the magical world and everything that happened at Hogwarts whenever her brother came home for the holidays. 

Fiona left her family home in Cork to attend university in Belfast when she was eighteen.  There she met Kevin O’Harrow.  They fell in love, married, and settled down together in Belfast and had Ben a few years later.  This was, unfortunately, just as the Troubles were gearing up.  Kevin was young, idealistic, and nationalistic—he was eager to be in the thick of things at this time, but Fiona was much more reticent and worried about her small family’s safety.  As the violence escaladed, she frequently suggested they move back to Cork, but Kevin was insistent they stay. 

Ben began displaying signs of magic at a young age, and Fiona immediately recognised it for what it was.  At Fiona’s urging, Eamon, who had no partner or children of his own, came to settle down in Belfast to be near his sister and to support Ben.  Fiona promoted a strong connection between her son and her brother; knowing Ben would eventually enter the wizarding world, she wanted him to have someone to go to with any problems that she knew she and Kevin would be ill equipped to help him with.

Meanwhile, the first war against Voldemort was underway.  Eamon, as a Muggle-born now had a target on his back.  He was very idealistic and considered himself to have less to lose than most; he took it upon himself to do everything in his power to waylay the Death Eaters, working largely independently, loath to put anyone else at risk.  Even so, Fiona found herself trapped between two very separate wars without really being a part of either.  She lived in constant fear for her family and especially Ben who straddled these two worlds, both of which were full of danger for him.

Heedless of his sister’s warning, Eamon continued his quiet rebellion.  When Ben was six years old, Eamon snuck into a Death Eater gathering place and stole some parchments detailing meeting times, locations, and certain members.  As he made his escape, however, he was seen and recognised by someone with whom he had gone to Hogwarts. 

The Death Eaters had recently acquired a new recruit, a young boy, only seventeen years old. They decided that it would be a good and relatively simple test to send the boy to kill Eamon and retrieve these documents.  Eamon, however, was not at home when the young Death Eater broke into his flat—something the Death Eater was quite relieved about, though he wouldn’t have admitted it.  He set about ransacking the place, searching everywhere he could think of for the papers, secretly hoping that he could find them quickly and return them to his colleagues before Eamon came home and that maybe they would forget about the whole killing part of the assignment.

Fiona, who had been passing nearby Eamon’s flat at the time with her son in tow, decided to stop in and say hello to her brother and see if he might be available to watch Ben while she did some shopping as a six-year-old really does slow down the process.  After going up the stairs to Eamon’s flat and letting herself in, she followed the sounds of rummaging coming from her brother’s study.  When the door opened, the young Death Eater, on high nerves, whipped around and let loose a Killing Curse without even looking to see who it was. 

When he saw what he had done, the young Death Eater was horrified.  He stood there and stared at the young woman he had just murdered in cold blood and her six-year-old son who was kneeling on the floor looking confused and in shock, still holding her hand.  It was the first person Regulus Black had ever killed and it was the first in a line of occurrences that would eventually turn him to give his life to destroy a horcrux.  Regulus ran from the house, determined to tell the Death Eaters that the parchment wasn’t in there.  Eamon later came home to find his sister dead on the floor and Ben still beside her, still holding her hand.

Kevin O’Harrow did his best to raise his son after that.  He loved Ben very much, but he was well beyond depressed after the death of his wife.  He was detached and no longer seemed to be able to muster the energy to show his son how much he cared, something he knew Ben needed to see.  After a few months, Kevin realised he couldn’t give his son what he needed, and he sent Ben to live with his Uncle Eamon.  Kevin, in turn, channelled his anger deeper into the Northern Ireland conflict, diving into the fight for his country’s independence.   

Eamon was also crushed by the death of the sister he had loved so much, most in particular because he was convinced it was his fault.  He took his responsibilities toward Ben very seriously, however.  He was determined to raise and love him like a son and to do everything in his power to make it up to his sister.  He immediately cut off his risky, anti-Death Eater life style, but quickly realised it was too late; he had already made a name for himself as being outspoken against Voldemort.  War ranging on both sides, he decided to take Ben away and go into hiding.  Eamon tried to convince Kevin to go with them, but Kevin insisted that “Ireland was the only thing left in my life that’s worth fighting for.”  These words Ben would carry with him for the rest of his life.

Eamon took Ben to England where a friend from school had offered him a safehouse.  Fearful of public perception of the Irish, he anglicized Ben’s name and taught him to speak with an English accent.  Eamon cared and loved Ben like his own son and did everything in his power to ensure he had a safe and happy childhood going forward.  Knowing the risks to Muggle-borns, Eamon even had forged documents drawn up to claim Ben was his biological son.  It was these documents that would later save Ben in the second war when the Death Eaters started their purge at the Ministry.

A year after going into hiding, Voldemort was defeated by the Boy Who Lived and the political climate began to calm, at least in the wizarding world, if not so much in the Muggle one.  Eamon and Ben emerged from hiding to discover that Kevin O’Harrow had died a few months previous in a car bomb explosion.  Reports from those who knew him suggested that he had been intentionally putting himself in danger for quite some time.

The years passed and Eamon did as he had promised and raised Ben as a son, supporting him through his years at Hogwarts and later through his Auror training.  A year and a half after Ben qualified as an Auror, Eamon O’Callaghan passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack.  Ben mourned him like he would a father, but was grateful that he had lived long enough to see what Ben had become.

At the time of this story, Ben is now twenty-six years old, only having qualified to be an Auror five years previous, not long before Tonks.  He has no political aspirations and is included in the initial meetings at Grimmauld Place merely as a body guard. He was chosen because Kingsley has worked with him in the past, trusts him, and quite simply, likes him. 

Since qualifying, Ben has been discretely using his connections as an Auror to discover the identity of the Death Eater who was responsible for the death of his mother.  The trauma-clouded memories of a six-year old boy, however, did not prove enough, and he never found out anything more about it.  Until the evening in the Black family home when he stumbled upon an old photograph of Regulus Black.  I want you to understand the turmoil in his mind at learning that the man he had spent the past twenty years hating had, in fact, reformed and given his life to help defeat Voldemort. 

Early on, I had a lot of questions about why he (and other characters) stayed at the Ministry even after it fell, and to that I will say this: While very idealistic, he is also practical.  Eamon was careful to teach him this, learning from his own mistakes. Ben is as influenced by his trauma in the first war as Gawain is, though in a different way.  Moreover, with Eamon gone, Ben has no family and, while many friends, none who would risk their lives for him if he were to get on the wrong side of the Death Eaters. That is not to say he didn’t find his own ways to fight back.  Remember Yaxley’s raining office in “Magic is Might” DH?  That was all him.

And, as a bonus, here's an AI generated image that very roughly looks like the Ben in my head, for those interested. Very roughly... this bloke is a little too classically handsome for my liking, but AI can only seem to manage handsome or deranged and nothing in between.

[lalalenii]

For the past year and a half, I really struggled taking care of myself, especially when it came to cooking. I used to live with an elderly roommate who unfortunately was hospiced due to her COPD about two years ago and died shortly after. I lived with her for over five years, and from the beginning, we had a very close relationship that felt more like family than anything. I cooked almost every night. After coming home from work, I used the time in the kitchen to unwind, I loved trying out new recipes and navigating my vegetarianism and her weirdly specific food preferences. I liked the physical work of it and the act of service it let me provide, especially during covid and when she kept getting sicker.

After she died, and I moved to my own place I stopped cooking. It was probably for a multitude of reasons. Grief I didn't recognise as such, my relationship hanging on a thread and all the energy it took from me. Me having to navigate living on my own for the first time, navigating a household on top of my 40hr week + 5ish hours for my side job, but sadly probably also that I tend to feel more motivation when I perform tasks for anyone other than myself. Even though I knew that I enjoyed cooking, I just rarely did it. Instant noodles and ready meals, ordering takeout... it just all felt so much easier. I was also away from home a lot so buying groceries would often result in them going bad.

So for the past 1.5 years, I frequented the pretzel stand at my local train station a lot. I got breakfast and/or lunch there multiple times a week. So often, that the people working the stand would recognise me. There was this elder Turkish woman, who had a really kind face and was always nice, even though she probably gets paid jack and has to get up at 5 or something. But seeing her always kind of made my day. I always walked away with a smile, feeling a little bit better about everything. She was so unpretentiously optimistic, a hard worker and as far as I could tell always nice to her colleagues. She always greeted me and wished me a nice day. Until one day, she told me that tomorrow would be her last day.

I was really touched that she considered to let me know. Let me know that she wouldn't be part of my routine anymore, despite us never exchanging more words than "one spiced pretzel please" "that would be 1.50" "with card please" "thank you have a nice day" "you too!"

I hadn't actually planned to go get pretzels again the next day, but I just had to, and I also took the opportunity to tell her how much her kindness meant to me. That I saw her kindness and that I appreciated it and that her smiles made my day better.

That was that. The following week she was gone and I went about my life, buying pretzels, struggling through my job and my relationship. I saw her every once in a while helping out at the stand – I was so elated every time and even if I didn't buy pretzels I made sure to at least wave at her in passing.

Months later, things changed. I gathered the courage to quit my job, to uproot my life. It was a risk but it paid off. My commute changed. From one hour to 25 minutes – what a luxury. My commute also now runs in a completely different direction. I take the underground to the town over and then get onto the bus. The added free time from the shortened commute is such a relief and while at least I manage to pack lunch every day now I'm still not very settled in, so I hit up the local bakery for some breakfast. I always get the same thing and after the salesperson stopped asking whether she can snap the cheese pastry in half to make it fit into the bag when I came in for the fourth time this week I decided I needed to change it up. I didn't want to become the cheese pastry girl. So on Friday, instead of the bakery I went to the local pretzel shop. I didn't even think about it too much. It's really the only other option near the station I switch to the bus. I was in a hurry to catch the bus, hoping that the woman and her child before me wouldn't also go into the shop, because if I missed the bus I'd have to walk and I'd be later than intended.

So I walked in. And what happened next honestly felt like the most stupid and clichéd movie scene. I did an actual double take. Because there behind the counter was my lovely, elder Turkish pretzel sales woman. I didn't even consider she just switched to another shop, I assumed she retired or did something out and only helped at the other stand occasionally to cover shifts or help out during rushes. But there she was, in all her glory. And when she saw me, we both laughed. It felt so ridiculous. We have no connection besides her selling me pretzels but the familiarity she brings into my life and into my morning routine was such a comfort. I don't know how she sees me, if she has a lot of customers like me but I do know she recognises me.

"I work in the neighbourhood now" I said as I stop laughing and she bags my regular order. "I'm stationed here now" she says and I tell her I'm happy to see her. I genuinely mean it.

"See you on Monday then," she says cheekily and although I was planning to cut the habit of getting breakfast at the bakery I make a promise to myself to stop by at least once a week. For the god-awful addicting spiced pretzel and for the kind woman who makes my day brighter without even meaning to.

[sueske]

Decided to reread Gaiden recently, it still depresses me.

The whole Sarada/Sasuke/Sakura thing really is awful. Sakura’s selfishness was truly shown in her decision to force fatherhood onto Sasuke. Sasuke shunned her and by proxy, he shunned Sarada.

And that’s sad. I’m not particularly a Sarada fan but the fact she had to grow up questioning if one of her parents even liked her or remembered her? That’s absolutely awful. A child should never feel that way. A child should never ever have to think about the idea of a parent hating them.

Sakura knew that would happen. She knew Sasuke would never accept a child that was forced onto him, but she was so desperate to tie him to her in some way that she ended up hurting her own daughter.

At the end when Sasuke hugged Sarada, I think it was him reconsidering the whole situation. While he would never ever try and play house with Sakura, of course not— he recognizes Sarada is a victim in all this as well. She was left to grow up with Sakura who has been shown to be emotionally abusive and possibly even physically at times.

He actually feels some sympathy for Sarada. But he knows he won’t be able to do anything with Sarada without Sakura forcing herself into their time.. she would honestly ruin a chance for her daughter to connect with the parent she has thought hated her because she’s desperate to be around sasuke.

So he leaves. Not without completely blowing off Sakura. It’s VERY fitting how he gives Sarada a hug and acknowledgement, he gives nothing but an odd glance to Sakura.

She is not redeemed in anyway to him. Rightfully so.

It’s just sad how Sarada and Sasuke are hurt by Sakura’s selfish desires. Thats her daughter and the man she supposedly loves. How could she just.. hurt them like that? Awful. She’s genuinely awful.

I don’t know if sakura knew that would happen, on the contrary she probably thought having a kid would tie sasuke to her and make him be more present, since she’s quite delusional when it comes to sasuke, yet that wasn’t the case at all. sakura had moments where she recognised sasuke’s indifference in shippuden, but also gaiden as well, the way she looks after sasuke said ‘because we have you sarada’, agreeing with ino’s girl in love comment in burrito and brushing past it when ino said she could never deal with an absentee husband, it seems she has the awareness but is in denial about it, but sakura will never give sasuke up. so. and sarada herself complains sasuke is boruto’s teacher more than he is her dad… those family dinners aren’t frequent at all lol, sasuke does his ‘duty’ and leaves. I think it’s the case of dad loving his kid, but not necessarily liking them. now that I think about it sakura was introduced as making fun of orphans and by end of naruto wanted to leave her family for sasuke, sarada when confronted with the possibility of Karin being her mom was ready to leave her family, her mom, behind too, it wasn’t until Naruto talked about bonds did sarada change her mind. Like mother like daughter…

[wordsandrobots]

I have of late been thinking about my dislike for the idea that Optimus Prime and Megatron were friends prior to the whole 'thousands of years of unending war' thing.

You see, there is this new Transformers animated film that's just been released, Transformers One, predicated on this very concept. Semi-relatedly, the most recent cartoon to be released under the Transformers umbrella proposes a world where the Autobots and Decepticons settled their differences and Megatron now acts broadly on the side of Good, to the extent of having human friends. I don't like that either.

And to a very large degree, my opinion is completely irrelevant. These are stories aimed at children, to sell toys, and I am closer to 40 than I am to 30. I'm not the intended audience. To a large degree, I've never managed to actually be the intended audience for Transformers media, having fallen awkwardly into the gap between the original 'Generation 1' merchandising push and the 90s iteration in Beast Wars. I have always been a fan of Transformers in an eclectic, slightly disconnected sense, gathering bits and pieces together as and when I've come across them.

My idea of what Optimus Prime and Megatron are like comes from Ladybird Books, half the very first Marvel Comics miniseries, and The Transformers: The Movie. I hold Side Burn from Transformers: Robots in Disguise (2001) up as a favourite piece of design. My first proper official Transformers toy was Air Hammer (who is awesome). Yes, I've been terribly invested in different parts of the fiction and I have my preferences, but my nostalgia buttons for this are permanently, delightfully borked.

Why would modern Transformers fiction cater to me? Why should it? Hell, no, let me say outright it shouldn't. That would be ridiculous. Thus, while I can certainly sit down and explain my feelings on this particular subject -- that Optimus and Megatron originate as characters defined entirely by enmity and oppositional philosophies, that I am deeply uncomfortable with ejecting the political content from fictional conflicts in order to make them more conventionally 'tragic' or 'complex', that I think James Roberts inadvertently did permanent damage to the franchise's central concepts when he made Megatron a conflation of Marx and Stalin in the course of trying to rescue the character from a hilariously botched 'Origin' mini-series, that telling the 'they were once friends' story with a white man voicing Optimus and a black man voicing Megatron looks *fucking awful* -- is there any point doing so?

Never forget that you are arguing about a children's toy was the maxim on the Transformers forums I frequented in the 2000s and early 2010s. I took that advice to heart. I try only to have long involved discussions about the nuances of the franchise with level-headed friends who can separate their preferences from the material realities and thus moderate their reactions with perspective. I also try not take up my keyboard to bash out angry tirades that I am not being catered to by cartoons.

But there's the rub. There's the thing that sticks in my head and leads me to type this post out. In spite of the idiosyncratic reality, I *am* being catered to by this stuff in theory. For the past decade, Transformers as a franchise has been locked into a constant reiteration of previous versions of itself. Transformers One is predicated on fixing the origin of The Transformers around Optimus, Megatron and Bumblebee (and Elita, because you gotta have a singular girl tagging along). The recognisable faces of the brand since 1984 (and Elita). The same characters that have been re-released, reduxed, redone and rewritten since the first update with 1992's Generation 2 (and Elita).

It's branding. It's market-tested iconography. It's commodification working as it always does. It's also absolutely nuts when you step back and realise the underlying strategy of Transformers has gone from "we will sell you all the toys by inventing All The Characters and giving every single one backstories and plot-lines that ensure Sprocket is somehow somebody's favourite" to "we will sell you fifteen versions of the same four characters over and over again."

I assume that calculation makes sense somewhere in the structure of Hasbro's corporate edifice. That it's cost-effective and feeds their goals of endless growth. As James Stephanie Sterling (arch excoriater of the games industry and thank God for them) has been pointing out quite a lot this recently, the concept of perpetually greater profits year on year is a dangerous, stupid delusion that destroys industries from all sides. But I am sure the people who buy into it think they know what they're doing and that their logic does indeed result in squeezing more money from same old cash-cow.

Part of that is the calculated targetting of nostalgia. Transformers One is positioned as a prequel, not to any other story in particular, but to an 'evergreen' version of the Transformers franchise. It's at once its own, unique thing and the prequel to that cartoon 'you' remember and loved from the 80s. Why not bring the whole family to relive 'your' childhood? Or hoover up the collectables that have been shipped to ranks of Transformers YouTubers so they can excitedly get fellow enthusiasts to spend more money on plastic models nobody has room for?

[They are selling non-transforming model kits for this movie, because the designs are so streamlined as to prevent easy realisation as transforming toys. The part of me that hates Action Masters with every fibre of my being doesn't know whether to laugh or weep that big name collectors are embracing these damn things. The whole flipping point of this toy-line is meant to be 'thing turns into other thing'! Primus wept, what is wrong with you people?!]

[Ahem.]

The assumption, fundamental to this and the other big toy franchises that have persisted from the 80s and 90s, is that because 'you' like X, you will continue to buy N different variations of X ad-infinitum. That's why it's still Generation 1 Optimus, Megatron and Bumblebee (and Elita) forty years later and following dozens of attempts to diversify the roster. Nostalgia sells, regardless of how well it actually accords with the thing that 'you' liked while in the original demographic for children's toys.

As a slight aside, I have also been unreasonably vexed this week by discovering Hasbro has produced a box-set of collectable action figures based on Star Wars novel The Last Command which features dark Jedi clone Joruus C'baoth wielding a red lightsaber. Not only does he not at any time pick up a lightsaber in the book, it would be completely contra to his personality for it to be one associated with the evil Sith. Joruus suffers under the delusion he is rebuilding the good and noble Jedi Order right to the very end, despite falling headlong into the Dark Side of the Force. That's the entire *point*. And that point is entirely irrelevant to the people making the box-set, even as they supposedly target people who like The Last Command, because commodified nostalgia rarely concerns itself with the specifics of the object being evoked. A hazy outline is enough.

Elizabeth Sandifer wrote in a recent essay regarding particular forms of bad Doctor Who and bad Doctor Who spin-offs that they "use my unequivocal love of this stupid fucking show against me." She identifies a distinction between instalments in the series that are crap through the normal reasons things are crap -- bad concept, bad script, bad production -- and those that are produced purely on the grounds that they are 'more Doctor Who'. I think that zeroes in on the problem here. 'More Transformers', 'More Star Wars', 'More Marvel', 'More sci-fi or fantasy intellectual property from which can be squeezed a seemingly endless deluge of products' has become the dominant mode of these long-running franchises. And written into this mode at a fundamental level is this idea that 'you', the hypothetical fan who cares deeply about something that struck a chord with them as children, will simply keep buying the same thing over and over again.

Lego have jut released an 'Ultimate Collector' set depicting Jabba the Hutt's sail barge from Return of the Jedi. It retails for £429.99. I have no earthly idea how anyone can make that kind of outlay on a toy, and I say this as someone who probably could afford to, if I prioritised buying a toy over financing house repairs and, you know, food. I *own* thousands of pounds worth of Lego, because I have been hoarding it piece by piece since I was *six*, one set and one charity shop at a time. If I wanted to build Jabba the Hutt's sail barge, I would consider it an interesting challenge. But to simply buy it, to put down half a grand on this huge set just because it comes from my second favourite Star Wars film?

It offends me an already massively-profitable corporation thinks I would do that. Because in theory, I am in the target demographic here. I am the 'you' in my examples above, I am the right age, more or less, with the right interests and the right level of disposable income. I am the mark all this is aimed at.

I am the person who is supposed to be thrilled by the idea of the 'untold story' of where the Decepticons and Autobots came from, of the secret history of Megatron and Optimus Prime.

Never mind that story was told in the first couple of pages of the original Marvel comics, as a fascistic uprising from within Cybertron society resisted by a peace-desiring majority. Never mind the 1984 cartoon created its own history of sectarian strife between sentient robots built for different purposes by sinister corporate overlords. Never mind that it's just forcing another set of familiar signifiers through the same origin story mill that has given us a long litany of unloved prequels off the back of George Lucas getting too big and too rich for any editor to constrain.

I don't imagine what I have said so far to be a novel observation. It's just capitalism doing what it does, squandering potential in the pursuit of ever-greater profit. Nor do I deny the reciprocal part fandom plays in creative impoverishment. The hysterical backlash from certain quarters to The Last Jedi -- a film that goes out of its way to say Star Wars is still alive with new possibilities and that the returning heroes are strong in all the ways they were at the end of the original trilogy -- stands testament to what ossified taste does to a person's sense of proportion, just as Rise of Skywalker stands testament to what happens when you indulge such people.

Above all, I am not claiming to be immune to the forces behind the nostalgia glut. I'm writing this looking at my display cabinets which have shelves devoted to Transformers, Bionicle (specifically these models), Batman, Doctor Who, Star Wars and Fullmetal Alchemist, and Transformers again. I bought Missing Link Convoy entirely to have a version of Optimus Prime I could hold in my hand that evoked the books aimed at primary school children from which I first learned who this character was (resulting emotions: mixed). My fandom has *always* involved collecting physical objects and as much as I'd stand by the claim hunting down decades-old toys to curate a collection informed by your personal experiences and taste is superior to gorging on an endless stream of new products, it's still chasing commodities. As someone who has also always prioritised creative fandom (fan-art, fan-fiction, building, modelling, speculating, imagining), I'm not seriously going to place one version of Having The Thing over the other on an ethical level. Equally, I see no particular mark of dishonour in taking joy from holding an object that has some meaning to you, however trivial or mass-marketed it may be.

No, what I resent is seeing marketing for a 'brand new' iteration of Transformers that is on some level still aimed at people like me, people my age, people who still find joy in the things they did as children. The calculated insult in multiple-hundred-pound Lego sets designed exclusively for 'adult collectors'. The mendacious indifference inherent to 'exclusive' toys that purport to be physical realisations of dearly-held fictions while being demonstrably ignorant of the source. The endless 'Easter eggs' and 'love letters' that we are expected to clap along to like performing seals.

The idea I should uncritically enjoy the same things I did when I was ten, in the same way, and that this should be a skeleton key to my bank account.

One of the very first things I learned about Generation 1 Optimus and Megatron, beyond the fact that they had always been mortal enemies, was that they died. Their story came to an end and new characters took their places. Ultra Magnus and Galvatron. Rodimus Prime. Fortress Maximus and Scorponok. Optimus Primal and an ersatz new 'Megatron'. Successors. Legacies. The full-throated boast that there are futures past the original tale.

And sure, the original characters have been refracted through different relaunches, alternate universes and reincarnations. It is unreasonable to claim there has ever been a version of Transformers that truly lacked Optimus and Megatron. But there is a difference between reinvented iconography and collapsing every version into 'evergreen' amalgamations, all development sheered off so they will continue to appeal to an old market alongside new generations of kids. Actually, putting it that way is giving Hasbro too much credit when the truth is they have expended massively more effort in courting middle-aged fans with toys aiming to recreate the exact look a character had in the 1984 cartoon (impossible) and bastardised versions of post-G1 toys (look what they did to my boy). They are very much doing the thing I said they shouldn't be.

So yes. I really don't like the idea Optimus and Megatron started out as friends before the war. But the more I think about it, the more I realise that is less to do with them being crammed into a thoughtless 'Professor X and Magneto' template than it is with the fact it is still Optimus and Megatron, forty years on from their debut -- and I'm expected to be happy about that.

[acearohippo]

Oh yeah, Tang Xuan absolutely called Li Ling after he sent this message

You can't tell me that Tang Xuan left the convo at that.

I held my shipping self back with my previous posts but no longer. Take this fic, I might post this on ao3 later this week because it's... actually pretty long.

AO3 Link:

Ship: Li Ling/Tang Xuan

Rating: T, for language

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: They're just chatting on the phone being cute and whatever.

[[I'm glad you're safe tho... you scared the hell outta me]]

Tang Xuan sighs, a bit dreamily. His boyfriend can be so cute, it’s unfair. He’s by himself, in one of the lounging rooms found in New Mylo Marshall’s station. It’s been repurposed as a temporary room for him to rest in, not that Tang Xuan has been able to use it as such. Giving himself only three days to resolve the truth behind the collapsing Miracle, Javid’s role in it, and the frequent Miramon waves plaguing New Mylo has left him no time to relax for more than a few minutes at a time.

He starts typing out a reply but pauses. He has nowhere to go for the half an hour and it has been a while since he got to hear his boyfriend’s voice. Not that Tang Xuan needs an excuse to call Li Ling, his thumb already hitting the “Call” button and happily getting cosy on the couch as he waits for his boyfriend to pick up. The call doesn’t even ring once before he hears the tell tale click of the person on the other side picking up the call. Tang Xuan’s heart swells and he can’t stop the grin forming on his face.

“Babydoll, you better be calling me to tell me exactly where you are so I can come get you.” Li Ling’s low monotone drawls out. Tang Xuan tenses up, recognising the signs of an emotional shutdown. His happy mood fades as he assesses the situation. The fact that Li Ling answered his call, means they still have time before any social withdrawals. He doesn’t sound any different from usual, only a bit more flat in his speech. Hearing his voice does reconceptualise his text. Tang Xuan takes a moment to calm his racing heart and thinks quickly.

First, he needs to make sure Li Ling doesn’t try to come get him. Because he will, he seriously will leave wherever he is, find him (somehow), and- if he can’t take Tang Xuan with him- he’ll latch himself to Tang Xuan and not leave. Tang Xuan loves working with his boyfriend, but this case requires a lot more finesse and critical thinking than Li Ling’s impatience is willing to handle. Not to mention the time limit and what’s at stake will annoy Li Ling and cause him to make rash decisions that may negatively impact everything. Li Ling jumps to conclusions too often, and while Tang Xuan will admit he does too, Li Ling doesn’t stop to question those conclusions, not unless someone directly challenges it and he’s given time to reflect on it. Three days is not enough time for Li Ling to process something of this magnitude, Tang Xuan is still trying to wrap his head around Javid's cruel decision and how it doesn't quite fit the man who protected him in the desert, even if he was a bit of a douche about it.

“They sent me to New Mylo.” Answer his questions honestly. When Li Ling gets like this, it’s better to answer succinctly. Tang Xuan is grateful they’re voice calling, as he can easily pitch his voice to sound calm and casual. He lets a bit of the past day’s frustration leak into his voice when he continues. “You would not believe the crap that’s happening here, babe.” Tang Xuan waits for Li Ling’s response. He isn’t trying to change the topic, that never works with Li Ling for long anyway, but he is trying to gauge how far along Li Ling’s fatigue is, to better help his boyfriend out.

“New Mylo? Isn’t that the place that’s about to get wiped out by the new miracle shit? The celestial anomaly thing the higher ups won’t shut up about?” Li Ling goes quiet for a bit, though he isn’t idle. Tang Xuan can hear him tapping away at his screen. “You’re like, a few hours away by plane… I could get to you in less than 5 minutes if I use my ring… Are these photos up to date?” Li Ling mutters to himself and Tang Xuan sighs. Looks like he’s still focused on getting to him. Tang Xuan wonders if Li Ling even realises he’s smack dab in the middle of the small town that’s in danger of being wiped out, thus being in danger himself. Not that Tang Xuan is nervous, but it’s good that Li Ling didn’t make that connection just now. The more he talks, the flatter his voice becomes and realising the danger Tang Xuan is in could be the last straw that sends him into a non-responsive, hyper-sensitive mess.

So, Tang Xuan goes for a different tactic, switching positions on the couch to get more comfortable. “I could send you pictures if you want.” He’s still going to try to keep Li Ling there, but sometimes agreeing with his spontaneous needs can help him calm down faster. “But, I don’t think Raven will be happy if you suddenly show up on my mission.”

Li Ling scoffs. “Like I give a crap what she’ll think. What was she thinking sending you on your own there?”

“I mean, I did resolve the Crow issue practically on my own.” Tang Xuan still thinks it was weird how Tevor leftmost of the sleuthing to him. He brought the cat man with him specifically so he could sniff out the crow leader, yet Tang Xuan ended up gathering most of the clues and coming to the final conclusion of both the present mystery and the past mystery that caused the cruise events to happen. Waste of a favour and money, that was. “It only took me a few days, too! I think Raven and the others starting to see my worth, putting me on all these high, erm, ranked missions.” Tang Xuan almost slipped up and said high stakes. He bites his lip to prevent himself from rambling on. Fortunately, Li Ling doesn’t notice his almost slip up, mumbling affirmative sounds to show that he’s only partially paying attention to Tang Xuan.

Tang Xuan pouts, tapping a finger against his cheek as he thinks of a way to break Li Ling’s concentration. “Oh! If you come here, we can do a road trip back to Gyrate.” Tang Xuan grins as the other line goes completely silent. He can practically hear Li Ling processing what he just said.

“What? No, absolute not! That’s our anniversary date plans, we aren’t moving those up.” Li Ling, finally, sounds a bit more lively. Tang Xuan digs in deeper.

“Weellll, if you come here, Raven’ll wonder why you’re here, and saying it’s because I’m here isn’t going to fly with her.”

“Screw her.” Li Ling sounds like a petulant child, grumbling under his breath.

”So we’re going to need to come up with a valid excuse. You got any besides an impromptu desert tour, babe?” The grumbling on the other end continues.

“But we are doing a road trip for our anniversary… what does New Mylo even have?” Tang Xuan wishes Li Ling was next to him, because he just knows he’s making that cute confused face, eyes rolling up and brows furrowing in thought.

“There’s lots of stuff we can do down here… maybe.” Tang Xuan sounds chipper, a genuine grin spreading across his face as he realises he’s got Li Ling. The man might hate rules, but he hates changing plans even more. “They have these sand glider vehicles I’m sure we can get a hold of.”

“And then we can, what, ride around the barren landscape?”

“Aaannnd, we can fight miramon.” Tang Xuan suggests, picking at his braid. He’s going to need a trim soon. “Hey it’s just a suggestion. You could also just wait a couple more weeks and then you’ll have me all to yourself.” Throwing his braid back over the backside of the couch, he rests his head on the cushion and prays that Li Ling will take the bait.

“Hn. You’re changing the subject. I want to see you now.” Oof, yes he is but he needs to convince Li Ling he isn’t.

“I really want to see you too.” Tang Xuan coughs, not expecting to say it so emotionally. But it’s true that he does. Him and Li Ling are almost never separate for more than a week at a time, and they especially don’t go hours between talking to each other. It’s something that leaves Tang Xuan feeling warm and soft inside, even after years of knowing Li Ling, and almost a year of dating him, how strongly they are still attracted to each other. It doesn’t feel overbearing, not like his childhood did- constantly being a unit with his younger brother. Everything they did was done together and any attempts at individualising himself never lasted long. Tang Yun could, and would, easily join whatever activity or hobby Tang Xuan would sign up for. It didn’t help that they were equally good at everything, despite having differing personalities.

Tang Xuan loves his brother, but he hated being overlooked for who he was. He never wanted to be a part of a pair again.

Until Li Ling came along and, gradually, all he wanted was to be matched with him. It felt different. They did many things together, but he was still Tang Xuan and Li Ling was still Li Ling. Sure, sometimes he was “Li Ling’s boyfriend” but Li Ling was also “Tang Xuan’s boyfriend” and it is exhilarating to him every time. Perhaps this is what those cheeky aunties meant when they would tell his younger self to “wait until he’s older” whenever he would declare he’d remain single his whole life. Being an item with Li Ling just carried differently than being “the Twins”. He is still himself even when he yearns to be plastered to Li Ling.

Damn, he loves this bastard.

“I want to see you so bad, Ling-Ling.” Tang Xuan continues, feeling a little embarrassed to hear it echo in the small room back to him. “And that’s what's getting me through this mission. We’re only a few weeks away from out 1st year anniversary, the places I want to go with you, the things I want to see with you, and do with you and do to you! I have been looking forward to it since you decided to stage a prison break for your former mentor.”

Li Ling has been quietly listening the whole time, and sighs softly between the break in Tang Xuan’s monologue. “Hou hou… You’re too damn cute.”

“Says the man who said he was worried about me after pretending he’s only been fighting miramon.” Tang Xuan teases.

“I was fighting miramon.” Li Ling says, and now he sounds like his usual self, even if his voice is still low.

“Why were you fighting miramon? You aren’t on miramon duty for the next month?” Raven might’ve been impressed by the corruption Li Ling and him revealed among the Tangton Correctional Centre, but they had to do press conferences and PR events for a week due to Li Ling’s outburst in front of the station going viral. Raven can be a petty boss.

“I’m still not on miramon duty.”

Tang Xuan waits for him to continue. Silence answers him instead and all Tang Xuan can do is sigh. “Please don’t get yourself in trouble before I get back. We’ve been planning this anniversary for months.”

“Don’t even, I should be saying that to you! You were supposed to be on vacation this whole month, what happened to that?” Li Ling spikes the accusation back.

“It’s not my fault! I swear I put in those vacation days, but when I checked I didn’t see them…” Tang Xuan still questions himself. He knows he pressed the submit button and he’s sure he received a message a day later that his time was approved, but when he pulled it up after splitting ways with Li Ling and Yun Chuan, he was shocked to see his schedule was filled again and none of the days he requested were blocked off. Even scarier, the message he received was gone. He had to go back and forth with HR for two days to clear up his schedule, again, and request the vacation but, by then, Raven had already tasked him with investigating the Crows on the cruise ship.

Tang Xuan hears tapping again. “Ling-Ling, what are you doing?”

“Making a note to talk to HR.”

“Why?”

“Because, when you come back, hou hou, I’m going to take you, fling you over my shoulder, and we’re just leaving. The note will be a warning not to interfere with us.”

“… Please don’t threaten anyone to give us a vacation.”

“I’m not. I’m promising them that they’ll regret screwing up your vacation with me.” He stops typing, sounding satisfied. Tang Xuan is now worried for a different reason, but a tapping on the door and Malik’s stern face peaking between the cracks, alerts him that he needs to return to the mission. Tang Xuan can only pray to the Sun that Li Ling will control himself and stay out of trouble.

“I have to go now, are we good?” Tang Xuan waves a hand at Malik to let him know he’s wrapping up his conversation. Malik nods in understanding and leaves him alone again.

“Yeah, we’re more than good, babydoll. Hmm, hey do me a favour before you go.” Li Ling sounds mischievous for some odd reason. Tang Xuan hums to show he’s listening. “Don’t tell anyone you have your phone back yet for the next two, three-ish, maybe six hours.”

“What? Six hours?? Why? If you were worried, the rest of our friends are so I don’t want to keep them in the dark.”

“Be-caauuusee,” Li Ling practically purrs, gleefully. “To make me feel better about you being MIA, Leora is taking me to a spice market nearby to try out Tangton candies,” Tang Xuan bites his lip to keep from gasping in pitied-shock. Tangton candies are lies in a wrapper. They aren’t sweet like candy, they’re just glazed balls of pure fire and agony. “And, after, Lewis is gonna treat me at my favourite grill joint.” Once again, Tang Xuan winces in sympathy. The food from that restaurant is delicious, but Li Ling always wants to sit right in front of hibachi grill and watch live as his favourite appetiser, skewered spiced-chili peppers, are grilled. Tang Xuan let him sit them there once and the smoke that came from those peppers hospitalised him as it clogged his nostrils and burned his eyes. As far as Tang Xuan knows, no one asides from him knows about the danger of letting Li Ling choose the seats. Tang Xuan sends a silent prayer out to Lewis, and hopes that his flaming hair will somehow render him immune to the effects of the spicey smoke. “And then after that, the boys and I are finally going to have an ultimate dodgeball competition!” Tang Xuan doesn’t even try to stop the grunt of disappointment from escaping, his hand audibly smacking against his forehead. Why do his friends become stupid the moment he leaves? They should know better not to encourage any sort of competitive sport with Li Ling, especially when there are balls concerned. Whatever damage they sustain, it’s on their heads.

Tang Xuan should warn his friends, but…

“It looks like I’m being sent out to look for more clues, so it might just be several hours before I post anything, anyway.” Tang Xuan has yet to see Leora lose her cool demeanour and it’s always fun to tease Lewis. “Send me pictures of Leora and Lewis enjoying the experience.”

“Deal, talk to you later, babydoll.” Tang Xuan returns his goodbye and ends the call. Refreshed, he gets off the couch and stretches. He has three days to wrap up this whole fiasco and he’s more motivated than ever to get it done.

[stuffnonsenseandotherthings]

SHIPPER GAME TAG

It seems like @lurkingshan has tagged me to unveil all the skeletons in my fandom closet so let's go and dig them up! Word of warning, I had very patchy media access up until my 20s (I could watch about 5ish things on TV and one of them was the news) so some of my ships are uh, niche.

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

Damon and Elena from The Vampire Diaries. I had such a weird relationship with this show given that I couldn't actually watch the actual episodes and instead had to watch the curated shipping clip compilations but yeah, I was very into these two for most of my teen years. Now my tastes have changed drastically and I'm no longer into this couple or the show so.....

2. Which ship do you consider your first one?

I was going to say Percy and Annabeth but then I remembered Luke and Maria from The Sarah Jane Adventures. Admittedly a very niche couple but they're the first time I can remember coming across a pairing on screen and going "They Are More Than Friends I Must Find More". Unfortunately there wasn't much more to find but I still think their relationship was cute.

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Another niche couple but Ruth and Jay from Casualty. There wasn't much but I poured over the 10ish fics I could find and frequently checked if there was anything new for them on FF.net or wherever it is I'd managed to find them.

Damn I want to go rewatch their scenes again, I wonder if the compilations are still on Youtube?

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fan art over?

I don't remember the first couple I saw Fanart for but I can tell you the first Fanart I remember coming across and that was Percy Jackson. There is a particular style popular among fanartist for the series and I loved it then and I still love it now.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

Only with friends haha. I think the first time I can properly remember having a discussion with people about a ship was the Peeta/Katniss/Gale triangle, I spent a lot of time ranting to my poor friends that of course it was going to end up being Peeta and Katniss because they fit the "Final Couple of a Teen Lit Romance" pattern down to a tee so rooting for Gale was useless (I was very pleased to be proven right, my pattern theory was just starting out back then).

6. Did you have any no-otp or have it currently?

I won't lie, I used to really struggle with ships that broke up canon ships. Like really, really struggle. I knew then and I recognise even more now that this was linked to my own issues with being overly loyal to just about anything but yeah, I couldn't cope with non-canon ships that broke up the canon ships, even if I didn't like the canon ships.

In regards to specific ships? Anything involving Hermione (none of the men were good enough for her in teen me's opinion).

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

..... Ummm Erestor/Glorfindel anyone?

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

As @lurkingshan said in her own post, OTPs are eternal. My first OTP was probably Percy and Annabeth and I'd still fight monsters for them. More recent additions to the pack are Andrea and Gyeol-Wool from Hospital Playlist and Uea and King from Bed Friends.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

MARIA AND BLOODY LUKE 😤

In all seriousness, none spring to mind but only because I tend to blot these things from my memory.

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

I may have the memory of a sieve for couples I dislike but I also hold grudges against storytelling wrongs so probably not, if I didn't like them then it's likely I still don't like them.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be cancelled over.

I'm going to continue the Brian and Justin trend here because I'm sure many people would be uncomfortable with the age gap now but, as Shan puts it best, "women in queer spaces often struggle to account for the totally different culture and power dynamics between m/m pairings".

12. What was your favourite crack ship?

I don't really do crack ships but I often think about the fact that, somewhere out there on the internet, there is a fanfic about Snape and a teletubby. I've never read it, I don't want to, but the thought does make me giggle (perhaps slightly nervously, I'm not sure).

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

I tend to go in both fads and cycles so it'll be a mix of fanfic linked to what I'm currently watching/reading (if it seems ficable) and pairings whose fics I know I'll enjoy. That being said I did once get so deep into Stucky that I obsessively researched life in inter-war New York so quite possibly them.

14. What do most of your ships have in common?

I wouldn't say I have a specific type of ship that I like but I am a total sucker for ships where it feels like they help each other become better people, both in little things and in the big things.

15. What do you absolutely hate in a ship?

When I don't understand why they're together.

Tagging anyone who wants to join as well as @twig-tea @respectthepetty

[invre]

🛍 🍺😖🤸‍♀️🎶❤️💤 for u

headcanon ask meme | accepting

🛍 - Does your muse like to go shopping? What do they usually shop for? What kind of stores do they frequent?

Honestly, not really. It comes back to the lack of desire: he doesn't care about clothes, or trinkets, or food... He doesn't dislike it either, though. He'll go shopping with others, or he might wander around the marketplaces simply to pass the time ( and get out of the house ) — but he doesn't really feel anything for it. He does shop for food when needed ( from a list, of course ), and he'll shop for supplies before trips. But beyond that, he feels very little for it.

🍺 - How does your muse feel about the consumption of alcohol? Do they drink? Are they a heavy drinker, or are they on the lighter side? What's your muse's favorite alcoholic drink?

In Mithrun's mind it is a personal choice for everyone to make, and he sees nothing wrong with drinking. He drinks on occasion, almost exclusively socially. He's not averse to it, but what else is he going to do — sit at home and drink? What would be the point? Canonically, we know he used to drink a lot when he was younger and he "acted pretty badly" — from that same piece, we also know Mithrun's tolerance isn't particularly high. Most of the elves get 2-3 stars, and he gets 2. I wouldn't call him a lightweight, maybe just slightly below average for elves; that said, he's a pretty light drinker anyway, and he doesn't really see the need to get drunk. Especially drinking in social situations. He'd definitely be the type to prefer dry drinks, rather than sweet.

😖 - Does your muse have any embarrassing moments that they still think about? Do they laugh at them, or do they haunt them? (also asked by anon!)

Mithrun generally only cares about how he perceived by others in very limited, specific ways. He tends not to dwell on past mistakes. But he does remember embarrassing moments from his past. The demon ate his desires, but not his emotions; he can still recognise that oh, that was embarrassing. But he has no desire to save face or look good to others, nor does he really have any desire to think about the past. The thoughts come naturally sometimes, sometimes intrusively, and he can obviously choose to think back on things, but embarrassing moments certainly don't 'haunt' him.

🤸‍♀️ - How active is your muse? Do they exercise regularly? Do they do things like yoga? What else do they do to keep fit and active? Are they flexible? Can they do parkour?

Mithrun is very active, actually. He trains every day in some form — push ups are a part of his morning routine. But aside from that, it may be sparring or even going for a run on occasion — he focuses on stamina and dexterity more than strength. I don't think he's the type to do yoga, although he is actually somewhat flexible — and he doesn't know what parkour is but could definitely do it.

🎶 - What kind of music does your muse listen to? Do they have a favorite genre? Do you think the aux cord would be taken away from them?

OKAY SO. This I have actually thought about quite a bit because I always wonder what the musical culture is like in fantasy settings; genres of music would surely differ to what we have, given that society is different. Music that has a lasting cultural impact would differ in a different culture, no?

But speaking in terms of our music, I think he would have liked a wide variety of genres in the past. Whatever music was traditional in his homeland, I think he'd enjoy — the only thing I would say is that he probably found classical music to be a bit... boring. Maybe it was due to the expectation to be prim and proper, being in a noble house, and rejecting it felt like a slight rebellion. Nowadays, he will listen to anything really — but if you were to ask him what objectively sounds the best to him? In our genres it would probably be rock, surprisingly. Probably classic rock more than anything. But he'd be much more likely to say, 'it all sounds fine.'

❤️ - How did your muse come to realize their romantic and sexual orientations? Was it difficult to accept? Are they proud of who they are?

I think elven society (judging by Otta in canon, and basing off a somewhat DnD inspired world too) is honestly pretty lax about sexuality — Mithrun I don't think ever really had a "realisation", as much as it's just always been how he was: attraction to both men and women. It's never something he really had to process or even acknowledge as a Thing™ because it was just so normal in his society. He's not proud, but not ashamed; he just feels neutral about it. It's just how he is.

💤 - How does your muse sleep? Are they a light sleeper, or are they out the moment their head hits the pillow? Do they nap? Do they struggle to sleep due to things like insomnia, or nightmares? (also asked by anon!)

Mithrun is Not Good at sleeping, needless to say. Canonically, we know that he can't sleep without magic or a potion (at least, he believes so); Kabru was able to get him to sleep, massaging his tense muscles, but in the absence of that he needs sleep aids. He doesn't feel he needs sleep, so he will sleep based on a strict time-based routine when at home. Because he relies on sleep aids, he tends to sleep deeply enough — not terribly heavy, definitely rousable, but not the type to wake up as soon as someone says a word. He doesn't nap, and he's pretty sure he doesn't dream, either. Or if he does, he doesn't bother recalling them at all. The exception being when nightmares creep into his pillow; then, yes, he tends to have nightmares.