#when the original meaning was apparently that he’s intent on resurrection. on coming back to life as the same being again and again

[kagoutiss]

screaming with a fukcing megaphone that ganondorf has not reincarnated like link & zelda (except for FSA based on the ‘official timeline’) as far as we know hes just been the same guy who’s lived way too long through different timelines in all of his games hes the same guy in WW & TP as he was in OoT just through different timelines im Screaming this

[youhavenoideahowbadiwantthis]

SPOILERS AHEAD FOR SOME HORROR MOVIES

I've been a fan of horror since I was probably.....11 or 12? I haven't always been desensitized to it, but I've enjoyed it my entire life. Monsters and ghosts and murder are all fair game. I love all of it. This isn't a new revelation, but any means, and I'm far from alone, but I feel I'm losing my ability to stomach some of it. My own childhood circumstances, as well as some other events that I've experienced very recently have made it difficult for me to deal with certain themes.

SPEAK NO EVIL

I watched this movie last night, hearing good things and realizing toward the middle that it wasn't for me.

A couple with a young child goes on vacation and meets a local family, also with a young child. The vacationing family falls for the generosity and courtesy of the local family and stays with them only to see multiple instances of weird disrespect as well as child abuse. Also, the local family's child has no tongue.

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

The local family kills vacationing couples and takes their children, cutting out their tongues and "adopting" them until the next one comes, then they kill that child and begin the cycle anew.

They graphically show the child getting her tongue get clipped for an unnecessarily long time. Then they take her away for the rest of the movie, make the couple strip naked and stone them to death in a ditch after telling them that this was happening because the vacationing couple "let it happen."

This movie is cruel. The overarching themes of social niceties, communication and presumption of intent, are present. The ability to respect your own interests and maintain autonomy while respectfully dissenting from someone else, is something that should be emphasized more when raising children so they are able to spot predation and know when to ask for help.

The tongue scene and the deaths at the end, as well as the fate of the child are all brutal and not my style.

A SERBIAN FILM

This will not break new ground and is far from an original opinion.

I'm not spoiling anything. If you like horror and have an internet connection, you know what it is.

The last third of the movie is tasteless as all get out. The themes don't translate to me as someone not involved in the culture that this movie apparently metaphorically represents.

The violence toward children is sickening and the deaths at the end along with the scene following the death are beyond filth.

RESURRECTION

Let me clarify before getting into the weeds: I love this movie.

Incredibly acted, incredibly convincing, incredibly sickening content. I will also preface this "review" by saying that this movie is heavily spoken word with little graphic content, and honestly the graphic content was the least of my concerns.

The movie centers on a single mother who's past abusive lover reappears in her life to mentally and emotionally torture her.

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

She reveals that when she was with him he'd gaslight her and force her to do strange tasks because they "inspired" him like a muse. She'd gotten pregnant and given birth and he hated the child. She left to go to the store, came back and found a couple of severed baby fingers and he said he'd eaten the baby.

When he reappears in her life he continues to tell her that he hears the baby calling for her in his stomach and drives her insane. Eventually she cuts open his gut and may or may not find a living child inside his gut.

The gaslighting, the death of a child, the inability to properly handle grief and to have another not allow you to process it are all staggering. This movie, again, is incredible, but if you're having....regrets....don't watch it just yet.

I am more emotionally mature now than when I started ingesting horror. I am more capable of not only accepting the things that I've been exposed to through my life, but also able to contextualize what has happened and realize that those things have shaped aspects of my psyche and my personality that I'm still attempting to reign in on a daily basis through active thought and pharmaceutical assistance.

I was abused in multiple ways as a child by multiple people. I wish I had the understanding of bodily autonomy and self-respect that I have now. Instead, I'm an adult with major intimacy issues who both hates physical touch and also craves it constantly.

As a parent, I hope my child never suffers the same issues that I faced inside or outside the house. I think I've done alright so far. But I have to be consistent and patient and kind. The hill isn't getting less steep but I can't lose traction.

The novelty of r/kidsarefuckingstupid is foul. Children make mistakes. They're selfish. They're rude. Teach them. Be to them what you want them to be to others. Watching a child in danger or getting hurt or failing should make you sad. One day, that child is going to be old enough to make impactful decisions, and if they don't receive the guidance and respect they deserve as children, how are they going to know how to act thoughtfully as adults.

Sorry for the tangent. I love you.

Thank you for listening, though I'm not sure why you would.

[completeoveranalysis]

~

Warning! This post contains spoilers up to chapter 170 of Tsubasa (and Chapter 71 of xxxHolic). Please skip this if you have not read that far.

Please also make no comments about what happens after that point in either manga.

~

OK SO HERE IS SPOOKY KUROFAI MARRIAGE PORTRAIT

The splash text reads: Shed blood and tears, without forgetting them, turn them into an existence.

Here is a link to my original post if you need the full context.

But here is the thing I said that just made me want to scream here in 2021, specifically in regards to that splash text:

"Incredibly motivating. It’s like the optimistic view of how things are when things are tough. The tough times are unavoidable a lot of the time, but you can and will get through them. You just have to make the choice to pick up the pieces and use them to construct a new future - which is never easy, but it’s the only way forward. For the dads, it’s both their past and their future. Kurogane has already gone through this; his life shattered and he used the pieces to forge a new identity and found new things to live for. For Fai, this is something he still needs to work on. He’s so used to running from his tragedy that he hasn’t yet figured out who he is beyond it. The “without forgetting them” is sort of a call out for him in that respect. You can’t grow by pretending they didn’t happen, or by pretending you’re a different person. Once he’s faced the pain and accepted that he’s alive and can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy, then he’ll finally be moving forward."

IN WHICH.

LIKE.

I have no idea how anyone even reads this liveblog armed with knowledge of what happens next because APPARENTLY I JUST SAY THINGS that are VASTLY UNJUST and now I wilt away with the memory of what I thought of Fai back then.

I don't mean to give myself any undue credit here - I predicted none of Fai’s backstory. I had something completely different in mind when writing this, entirely based around the knowledge of Fai fleeing from Ashura with no context whatsoever about who Fai really was.

When you know where Fai came from? Oh my god.

Oh my god.

The words just toss my intended meaning out the window and dance around with the actual truth right in your face. Especially the “pretending you’re a different person” bit - I could never have predicted that Fai was using his brother’s namesake both as a way to eliminate himself from the world and to devote his life towards resurrecting his brother in his place. But HOT DAMN do these words ice skate in all the correct patterns without any knowledge of what the heck they could possibly mean in the end.

Also I'm in physical pain from the phrase: “without forgetting them” is sort of a call out for him in that respect." I know that past!me was thinking purely about Fai running away from confrontation with Ashura and pretending that he was fine and that everything was fine and that he could stay away from it all as long as possible. Things I did not know: That Fai's memories had been deliberately changed by two separate people to control the direction of his life. "Without forgetting them" is NOT a callout for Fai - Fai had no choice in that whatsoever (but they could still be a callout for ME for forgetting any of this plotline had ever happened oh my god). Fai was only ever running from Ashura with good intentions (ie, to NOT murder someone), and there was no way he could have known that his past had been rewritten to such a massive degree that it shaped the core of his personality for his entire life. And just as the splash text implies, it's only when he gets the CORRECT memories back that he can use them to forge a healthier and more accurate life moving forward.

A call out for Fai. Imagine. Past!me has so much to answer for.

I also want to revisit the bit where I said “once he’s faced the pain and accepted that he’s alive he can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy, then he’ll finally be moving forward”, because this comes off entirely flippant now that I’m looking back on it.

My expectation for Fai’s potential trauma was somehow barely a tenth of what it really was in the end. And like, the idea I was getting at? Technically correct! But also only correct on the surface level. Fai didn’t need to just “confront his problems”. He needed to be completely stripped of the version of himself he had constructed from his false memories, worn down to the very core through reliving the worst parts of his life - and then shown how he was wrong about them. He was lied to his entire life, and so the goals he based his life around were aimed toward an abstracted version of reality. He was never going to be able to resurrect his brother, but he never could have known that without knowing that Ashura and Evil Wolverine had manipulated him and his memories every step of the way.

It's only when he can decipher this for himself that he can course correct - and it was only in taking the Original Fai completely out of the equation that Our Fai could finally begin to comprehend the idea of living for himself, and others, instead for fixing a mistake he never actually made in the first place.

So, yeah. “Once he’s faced the pain (of his past) and accepted that HE’S alive (and he’s allowed to be, because he never killed his brother) he can continue living in a way that can make himself and others happy” IS ACTUALLY ACCIDENTALLY CORRECT IN THE END.

I also want to point out that in the initial liveblog I never really discussed how Fai’s expression was relevant to this image, because I didn’t know exactly.

He’s smiling.

It's a small, gentle smile, but CLAMP really draw attention to it with the way he's looking off centre. Kurogane looks directly at the camera, but he's off centre - Fai is in the middle of the frame and he's vaguely looking elsewhere, head tilted in the wrong direction, as if he were looking towards Kurogane but seeing something else entirely.

The image itself was part of a series of splash pages where CLAMP were depicting the current state of the relationships between all of the main cast throughout the Infinity Arc (and it was glorious) and while I absolutely caught the fact that the relationship between Fai and Kurogane was intimate but strained, I didn’t know the context of Fai’s smile. His backstory shows us that Fai smiles as a way to make other people happy, because deep down he thinks this is the only possible value he can bring them - a smile is his only way of improving the world for the people around him, and his smile is the only thing he’s worth.

Here in the image Fai is partially draped over Kurogane but his distant look shows that he isn’t fully committed to the scenario - because before Seresu he could never be. As much as he liked Kurogane and allowed himself to get close to him, it was always always with the intention of him trading his life away for his brother’s at the end of the day. This is what caused the tension between them in the first place - when Kurogane made choices in Fai’s stead to keep him alive (in Acid Tokyo), he threatened Fai’s chance to trade his life for his brother’s, and so Fai distanced himself from Kurogane. Even if they fixed what they had between them, anything he had going with Kurogane could only ever be temporary until Fai could trade places with the real Fai.

And so Fai smiles - because any happiness he can give Kurogane and the others is all he’ll ever be worth. It's a temporary happiness that was never supposed to last or even exist in the first place.

And it’s not until we get OUT of Seresu that Fai finally has the opportunity to build himself from the ground up and start living for himself. For his own happiness and those around him.

And finally commit to the idea of being able to (and being WORTHY OF) making Kurogane happy in the long term.

Which is where we then get the punching scene in Nihon. And it’s perfect.

But OH BOY did past!me say some things that sounded correct but were utterly and completely wrong at every level.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Stalker X Stalker, Part 7

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Perma tag: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Stalker x Stalker taglist: @aespades @jayjayspixiepop @blueslushgueen @fan-written @seraphichana @nerd-nowandforever

No I didn't get carried away with writing domestic fluff and forget to do the one thing I was supposed to with this chapter I'm a professional and would never do that

It took a long time for Tim and Cass to convince Marinette that, no, it wasn’t a trap, it was just a normal Halloween Party. It took even longer to explain what a Halloween Party really was, because apparently it wasn’t a huge deal in France.

But, eventually, she got it:

“Okay, so every Rogue and vigilante has to go to his Halloween Party in stupid costumes… or else?”

Tim nodded. “Rogues have to go because he’ll be insufferable, we have to go because otherwise we’re leaving a bunch of Rogues alone together without supervision.”

“And it really is just a Halloween Party?”

Cass flashed two thumbs up.

Marinette still looked a little confused. “And we… we want to babysit the Rogues?”

“They mostly behave themselves. Again, Crane can be insufferable when he wants to be and they have to spend a lot of time with him in Arkham.”

“I guess that’s cool then…” Then, a thought seemed to occur to her because she brightened up. “Is Nightwing coming?”

Tim nodded, suddenly a lot more wary. “Yeah, both he and Flamebird drop by for most holidays, anyway, so they might as well… why?”

She blushed a little. “I kind of wanted to see if I could get him to train me. I think his fighting style is pretty cool.”

Tim was not jealous or annoyed that Marinette might like two of his brothers more than him. He was fine if she liked Cass more, because Cass was, well, Cass. But Dick? Damian? Come on!

At least he had a month before the party to prepare himself.

For now, he glared at Cass, because she was laughing at him behind her hand.

Then he remembered that Marinette was still there and was watching the two of them interact with a vaguely confused expression and he pulled himself together: “I don’t know if he can teach you much since he’s usually in Bludhaven, but I used to be obsessed with the guy and I know all his moves by heart.”

She tipped her head to the side, considering, then smiled at him. “Sure. Thanks, Red, I owe you one.”

He tried to hide his relief behind a smile. She smiled and blushed, so he was pretty sure it worked.

~

Marinette smiled as she scrolled through the Batinternet on her phone (they’d finally given her the password! She no longer had to waste data!). The batkids were all working on the computer, trying to hack into their father’s files to see their Christmas presents.

She didn’t get why they were doing it then, it wasn’t even Halloween yet. Still, they insisted that Batman was always prepared well before the holidays hit. She was curious about what they’d find, if anything, so she waited as Red Robin hacked their dad’s files.

Loud cheers erupted from the others, which meant they must have found something.

“... right, Ladybug, yours is easiest to get into… he probably didn’t expect you to try… he’s getting you an Xbox and a bunch of games to go with it.”

Her gaze shot up and she surged to the front of the group to see. “Really?”

Red Robin pointed at the screen and she blinked a few times. Yep, that was a customized Xbox. Wild.

Then her shoulders slumped. “Damn, I was only kidding. If I knew he was actually going to get it I would’ve asked for a Playstation.”

She continued looking at all the ‘random’ games Batman had bought her (he was suspiciously good at guessing what she liked), completely oblivious to the fact that she had accidentally started World War III right behind herself at the casual mention of a thing she wanted.

She glanced back at them once during their fight and they straightened instantly, innocent smiles in place. The hand Red Robin had in Robin’s hair turned into a hair ruffle. Black Bat had turned the way she gripped the collar of Spoiler’s shirt into pulling her down for a hug. Signal’s eyes stopped glowing under his domino. She smiled a little and turned back to the screen to look at the rest of the games. Fighting resumed.

Or, at least, it did until Marinette saw the file name.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I knew you fuckers took my blood,” she hissed irritably.

She wasn’t exactly scared, the bats seemed generally well-intentioned, just paranoid, but that didn’t mean she liked it. They stole her blood to figure out her identity without asking.

They all tensed up behind her and looked at each other awkwardly.

Robin was first to snap out of it. He swatted Red Robin over the back of the head. “Look what you’ve done, Drake.”

Marinette blinked and then pulled her gaze back to Red Robin. “Drake?”

The batkids looked at each other awkwardly. Except for Red Robin, who was glaring at his youngest brother.

Spoiler was the first one to come up with an excuse: “It’s an older codename. We told him to come up with something original since everything else he’s used has belonged to someone else first… and that’s what he came up with.”

She considered whether Drake really confirmed that Red Robin was Tim Drake-Wayne. On one hand, yeah… but, on the other hand, was he really that stupid? Would he really use his own last name for a codename?

She supposed that, in all her time knowing Tim and Red Robin, he had never shown himself to be original. Smart, sure, but a little unoriginal.

So, yeah, Tim was almost definitely Red Robin.

But she was prepared to ignore it for now. Every bat seemed tense at the idea of her learning their identities, so she played dumb:

“It’s not that bad of a codename. Dragons are pretty cool.”

She could feel Black Bat still staring at her, but everyone else relaxed almost imperceptibly.

“He didn’t base himself off of dragons, he chose male ducks,” Robin informed her.

She blinked. “Why the hell would he choose ducks?”

Signal snapped his fingers and started pulling out his phone. “Oh, Mari -- can I call you Mari? -- you should see his outfit.”

Red Robin realized he was about to get murdered for his younger self’s outfit choices and tried to snatch the phone away.

Unfortunately for him, while he was concentrating on Signal, Black Bat had sidled over to Marinette. She tugged her arm to pull her attention from the two fighting boys and then showed her the picture.

Marinette stared at the ugly cockroach outfit for a long time before taking a deep breath: “Alright, first of all...”

~

Tim… he was fine.

Okay, no, he wasn’t.

The tracker was better, he would admit. She had even started wearing more red and black so she could wear the necklace more (something that made him feel all fuzzy inside), but she wasn’t wearing it every day and he couldn’t exactly tell if the necklace was there because she was home or if it was there because she’d worn a different outfit.

So, he only had one solution: randomly dropping by to do chores with her.

It started off with the ‘might as well’ principle. They were already out for photography and getting ideas for outfits, why not pick up some groceries while they were on their way back? She could even carry more since there were two of them.

He quickly dropped pretenses, though. The one time every few days that they hung out wasn’t enough to keep her in the house, and even if it was she clearly wasn’t fond of staying inside for long periods of time. He started dropping by every day to just go out with her.

He could tell his family was getting a little suspicious about what he was doing, Steph and Cass both narrowed their eyes at him whenever they saw him leaving the office at a normal time and once he had caught Duke following him to see where he was going… but it was fine. They weren’t going to complain about him actually getting some sort of down time.

And, he had to admit, it was nice. Not only did resting his brain for an hour or two a day do wonders for his mental health, he just… enjoyed doing chores with her? He didn’t think he would. He’d expected to like it the first few times, the novelty of going on his first grocery shopping trip or figuring out how a laundromat was always going to make it interesting and new for a bit, but it didn’t seem to be wearing off.

He was pretty sure that was because of the person he was doing it with, though.

He smiled as he watched Marinette half-climb the supermarket shelves for a bag of Takis.

“Need help?” He called.

“Nope!”

He watched her jump a few times on the lowest shelf before, eventually, climbing up another shelf.

Tim winced and surged forward to support her weight a little.

She huffed and grabbed the Takis. He set her down.

She crossed her arms. “I said I could get it.”

“I trust you. The shelves? Not so much. Do you want to die crushed under a bunch of chips?”

Her halfhearted glare morphed into a grin. “If I die any other way you have to promise to resurrect me so I can do it again.”

He rolled his eyes. “How about I resurrect you and you try not to die again for a while?”

“Hm… I guess that’d be alright.”

Then, at the laundromat, Tim saw a bunch of Two Face’s henchmen. How did he know that they were henchmen? The black and white suits kind of gave them away.

He was just wondering whether it was worth it to try and call Duke over so they didn’t risk something happening when he realized that Marinette had slipped over to them.

But she wasn’t concerned as she offered some of her detergent. “Hey, if you need to wash lights and darks together like that… you’re going to need a different detergent. I know those are cheap but there’s a reason for that.”

“Isn’t that just an old detergent problem?”

“No, separating every single color into a different load is. But, if you want to do pure black and white like that… you don’t want to risk it.”

Then she turned and glared at another goon, who was pulling their luckily still okay clothes out of the washer.

“You’d better not be putting that in the dryer.”

The sheepish look on the henchman’s face was answer enough.

She huffed. “That is airdry only why would you do that --?!”

And that’s how they ended up friends with -- and possibly under the protection of? -- a bunch of henchmen. Tim had to admit, they were really nice when he and Marinette weren’t trying to get them thrown in jail. He almost found himself slipping and hoping that Frank managed to achieve his mob boss dreams. He actually did offer to babysit Sam’s kids while she had a shift because she seemed very stressed.

“Tim, darling, do you even know how to take care of kids?”

Tim didn’t know whether to blush because she had called him darling oh my god or due to embarrassment at that massive oversight.

“Uh… would you be willing to help?”

Marinette gave him an exhausted look. “I’ve only ever babysat one kid at a time without their older sibling being there to help.”

He quickly changed the offer to paying for a babysitter. Sam was thankful regardless.

When everyone had finished laundering their clothes to Marinette’s satisfaction, the two of them headed back towards her apartment.

Tim changed the position of the laundry basket on his hip so it didn’t dig into him as much. “You know, you didn’t have to help them.”

She snickered. “First of all, you’re absolutely wrong. I couldn’t just sit by and watch them ruin their clothes right in front of me!”

He rolled his eyes, trying to hide the fond smile on his face. “And second of all?”

“Secondly…” She let him into the house and closed the door behind him. A cheeky smile formed on her face. “Well, they’re henchmen. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to have them on our side in case things go wrong rather than indifferent to what happens to us?”

It was here, with her smiling in front of him, intelligence sparkling in her eyes and the necklace he gave her hanging from her neck, that he realized that he was going to fall in love. He might not be there yet but, if they continued doing things like this, he was sure he would.

He wouldn’t mind that, he thought, as she leaned forward to take the basket from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek on the way over. He watched her disappear to her room, no doubt to fix whatever damage he had done while carrying it that would be invisible to anyone but her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and went to start up the coffee machine.

~

There are no botanical gardens more beautiful than the ones in Gotham. Whether that was because Poison Ivy herself tended to them or because they were kept in tip-top shape to appease her, Marinette didn’t know. Whatever the reason, it was gorgeous and Marinette had gotten quite a few different ideas. She pretty much had an entire spring collection planned out…

It was unfortunate that she’d gotten ideas for a spring collection in the middle of autumn, but she was ignoring that.

Now, they were sitting on her couch. They needed to relax after all that walking around on top of a rather exhausting night the night before (Scarecrow had broken out of Arkham to start preparing for his Halloween Party). She was completely in his space in an attempt to mess with him. It, unfortunately, didn’t seem to annoy him as he lazily rested his head on top of hers.

She huffed a little but allowed it.

He fiddled with the settings on his camera, biting his lip.

She looked down at the camera and asked: “How’d you get into photography?”

“... it’s a kind of personal story,” he said carefully. “A little sad, too, I guess.”

She tried to pull back, an apology on her lips, but he just rested an arm around her shoulders and held her close.

“It’s fine.”

She nodded as much as she could with the head resting on top of hers.

They were silent for a long time. She tried to relax herself. There were no akumas in Gotham, it was okay to accidentally upset someone and it was okay to ask them if they wanted to elaborate. They were people, people are supposed to feel sad sometimes. It’s healthy.

She took a deep breath before curling more into his side. “Would you like to talk about it?”

The arm around her tightened almost imperceptibly. “I… I guess I can, sure.”

“You don’t have to,” she said quickly. In fact, she might be a little more comfortable with that. Emotional conversations weren’t a Parisian’s forte.

But he sighed and shook his head. “It’s fine. Our relationship can’t progress all that healthily if we never tell each other anything.”

Yikes. Way to accidentally call her out on the fact that she hadn’t formed a healthy relationship in years, Tim.

“Not that I’m all that great at healthy relationships,” he said after a minute.

At least she wasn’t alone, she supposed.

“No easy way to say this, I guess… my parents weren’t the best. They’d go on trips -- they were archaeologists -- and I’d be left home alone, usually for months at a time.”

She cringed internally and took his hand in hers, rubbing comforting circles into his palm.

He sighed lightly. “So… I was lonely, obviously. I started by taking pictures of my parents. Sometimes it was all I’d have of them for months. They could leave, but the pictures weren’t able to.”

She felt him bury his face in her hair.

“I started following the bats after a while. I don’t know if it was because I wasn’t sated by pictures of just the two of them and decided to expand, if it was because they had a happy family despite a distant father and I wanted that for myself, or if it was because I wanted my parents to find out and be worried about me, or a mix of all of that… but…”

She slowly moved the camera off of his lap and pulled him into a hug. “But?”

He was silent for a bit, thinking over his answer. He shrugged and wrapped his arms around her. “It was an old coping mechanism. A way of feeling connected to people when I couldn’t actually be.”

“‘Was?’ What changed?”

He laid back on the couch and she allowed him to pull her down beside him. “People around me… started ‘leaving permanently’.”

She winced. Oh.

“It hurt a lot more to look at the pictures after that. It just felt like a reminder that I was alone.”

She frowned. “But… you’re taking pictures of me, now.” Her eyes widened. “Shit, did I accidentally trigger --.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, no. Well, kind of, but it’s okay! Every time they’ve died, it was because of some sort of shortcoming on my part. I think I’ve learned from all my mistakes. You… I won’t let you get hurt, okay?”

Marinette didn’t know how to respond. On one hand, she was pretty sure that she should be assuring him that, even if she did end up dying, that he shouldn’t blame himself… on the other hand, she had no intentions of dying and she was pretty sure it was nearly impossible for her, so maybe it was a good thing that he had chosen to protect her of all people? Maybe the problem would solve itself?

She didn’t know.

She carefully took his face in her hands, pulling him to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay, darling?”

He gave her a tentative smile. “I sure hope you’re right.”

~

He had been asked to stay the night. Her excuse was that she was almost done with an outfit for him and she wanted to give it to him the second it was done and, by the time it would be, it would be too dark to go out safely.

Tim kind of felt bad that he had worried her but he wasn’t going to turn down the offer of staying over and watching her finish the outfit.

But, first, food. They dropped a million takeout menus on the desk. A long silence stretched between them as they looked at all the options.

“... what do you want?” Asked Marinette.

“I’m not in the mood for anything in particular, you?”

She sighed. “I don’t know, do you want anything?”

“I don’t want anything, what about you --?”

This continued on for about three minutes before Tim got a brilliant idea. He dialled Damian’s number and put it on speaker.

“Drake. Why are you calling? Have you been hurt?”

“No, Dami, I’m getting takeout and I was just wondering if you had any ideas.”

Marinette gave him an affronted look, but he clapped his hand over her mouth before she could warn Damian that, no, he wasn’t buying food for him he was just going to be an asshole.

“... I suppose I wouldn’t be averse to Chinese.”

“Thanks, Dami! Hope you can get Alfie to make that for you.”

“What do -- ?”

Tim hung up on his very confused younger brother.

Marinette frowned as he removed his hand from her mouth. “That wasn’t nice of you, that’s a kid.”

Tim was not about to get beaten by his brother in both identities, thank you very much.

“Alfred can cook better than anyone in the world, he’s not going to suffer.”

She snorted. “I doubt he can make food better than…” She picked through the takeout papers for a few moments before holding up a menu. “... this place!”

He squinted at the menu. “... I really hope you can speak Mandarin.”

“You’d be hard pressed to find a language I can’t speak, Timmy,” she said, absently dialling the number.

Well, he supposed that explained how a person from France knew ASL and could speak English like a native. Damn. Now he kinda wanted magical god-earrings so he could speak every language in existence.

She spoke cheerfully to the person on the other side of the line for a moment before turning to Tim. “What do you want?”

“Uh… shrimp fried rice?”

She rolled her eyes and flicked his nose. “Alright, fine, white boy.”

“It’s a safe option okay --!”

She wasn’t listening to him explain why fried rice was the best choice for him because she was relaying the order to the person on the other side of the line. She hung up with a smile.

“Food will be here in about three minutes. Do you rich people have small bills or do you just use them for tissues or something?”

He raised his eyebrows. “They go down to a hundred, right?”

She pressed her lips together thinly, clearly unsure whether or not he was joking.

He snickered and shook his head. “Nah, I think I have twenties and fifties…”

“Yeah, that won’t do. We’re going to get robbed,” she said, reaching into her purse.

“We? Didn’t know I lived here, too,” he joked.

She barely even glanced up from where she was counting money. “Honestly, with how often you’re here, you might as well move in.”

He choked. He wanted to say something smart or funny or smooth, instead all that came out was: “You --? I --? Uh --!”

She snickered behind her hand. “Love, relax, I’m just kidding. You don’t have to leave your fancy mansion with all your siblings --.”

“Wait, don’t make living here sound even better. I will do it purely to get away from them, don’t test me.”

She rolled her eyes with a grin. “Maybe that's the plan, you’ll never know.”

Tim had exactly zero idea whether they were joking or not anymore. The tone and reactions made him pretty sure they were kidding, but… what if they weren’t?

He was just gathering the courage to ask when the doorbell rang, pulling their attention to the food. She continued counting for a second before running to the door and swinging it open.

He walked up beside her awkwardly as she chatted politely to the guy to take the food inside. He knew, logically, that Marinette was actually way stronger than he was… but his stupid brain saw a thin, short woman in need of someone to help her carry things. So, he took it from the guy with a smile.

The delivery guy glanced Tim up and down before asking Marinette something. She laughed and gave a shrug. Tim did not know what was going on but he felt vaguely insulted.

He was definitely learning Mandarin after this.

The moment the door closed he whined about being insulted. She looked amused.

“You know what he said?”

“... no,” he admitted.

Her lips twitched.

“... you’re not going to tell me, are you?”

She snickered and leaned over the two bags of food in his hands. “So, you got the fried rice, right?”

“Mariiiiiiii.”

“Your food is going to get cold.”

“Beeeaaaan,” he complained.

She raised an eyebrow at him, a blush spreading across her face. “Bean?”

He grinned, feeling heat creep to his own cheeks. “I don’t know, I couldn’t think of anything for a nickname. First thing I thought of was coffee beans, so: Bean.”

“Wow, you’re such an addict,” she teased.

He continued pouting at her until she gave in.

She leaned forward to press a kiss to his nose. “He asked if you could use chopsticks or not so he could get you a fork if you couldn’t.”

He felt the blush on his face deepen. “Oh… I can’t.”

“That’s fine.” She grabbed a tote bag from the floor of her pantry and pulled out a set of plasticware.

He blinked. “... you keep plastic forks?”

She shrugged and tossed the bag back in her pantry. “Plastic forks, grocery bags, napkins, a few sets of chopsticks…”

“... why?”

“Some of us are minorities, darling.”

“What --?”

~

She hummed tunelessly as she worked.

Tim had fallen asleep on her shoulder. Had most of this been an elaborate plot to make him finally get some sleep? Possibly.

She didn’t feel all that bad, though. With how much he overworked himself both as Red Robin and as Tim Drake-Wayne… honestly, she was beginning to doubt that he slept at all. And, really, if a vigilante coffee addict with a magically enhanced physique is worried about your sleep schedule, you’ve got problems. Intervention was needed.

Don’t get her wrong, though, she was going to make up for lying to him. She’d move him to her bed and leave a cup of coffee for him on the bedside table. Maybe she’d even make him breakfast, it depended on how tired she was in the morning.

But that was for when she was done. For now, she was working on the last part of the outfit: she needed to lace up the corset. His posture needed a little work and she didn’t have the heart to tell him that to his face.

… besides, corset vests are cute. She wished more guys would wear them.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the last bit of lace through and tied a loose knot. Done.

She looked down at Tim. Loose strands fell in his face as he slept. The tiny wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, making him look much younger. His lips curled into a slight smile at whatever he was dreaming about.

He looked so genuinely at peace. She hated that that was abnormal for him.

She couldn’t help but worry a little about what he’d said earlier. He’d claimed that the reason he had gone up to the top of that building the day they’d met (as Tim and Marinette) was to scout out a location for photography, but now that was seeming like a lie because he apparently preferred taking pictures of people over locations… so, why was he up so high? He’d known it was illegal to be there, so she doubted he thought anyone else would be…

She swallowed thickly.

She didn’t think his mental state was that bad… but, just in case it was, she waved Tikki over for a bug and sewed it into one of his sleeves.

Tikki was looking at her disapprovingly. Marinette ignored her.

It was Ladybug’s job to make sure everyone was doing okay mentally, and she wasn’t going to fail a person she cared about of all people.

His head slipped from her shoulder onto her stomach and she sighed, trying to lightly push him off without disturbing his sleep. It didn’t work. He made a quiet sound in the back of his throat and buried his face in her stomach, his arms wrapping around her tightly.

Well, this is her life now.

… she supposed it wasn’t so bad, though.

[tittytania]

Finding ChristBorg: A TED talk about what happened during the Coldharbour Compact.

Reposted from my tes reddit bc I want to see what y’all think.

I can't tell if I'm a genius, completely insane, or if I'm just late to the lore-party. Time to find out I guess. TL;DR at the bottom.

So it has never been explained what Sotha Sil did during the Coldharbour Compact to convince the daedric princes to not manifest on Nirn without an intermediary, and it probably never will be since the mystery of it all is far too cool. But that doesn't mean I can't read into it like literature and look for meaning in the other texts I can compare it to.

To start, Vivec is based off of the Shakta variation of the half female/half male Ardhanarishvara, where the gold-skinned female half is the right side. Both Vivec and Ardhanarishvara represent unity and duality, and looking at some images of Ardhanarishvara, it's kinda hard to argue that Vivec wasn't based off of them. Kirkbride even confirmed that Ardhanarishvara was the inspiration for Vivec in an AMA. Now, Vivec is part of the god trio the Almsivi Tribunal, along with Almalexia and Sotha Sil. Shiva, who Ardhanarishvara is the avatar of, is also part of a god trio, called the Trimurti in Hinduism. So it would make sense if the other members of the tribunal are also based off of one member of a real world religious triad. I have a shaky idea of who Almalexia could be, but my theory for her god-inspiration is nowhere near as solid as my theory for Sotha Sil, who I believe is based on Jesus Christ.

To start, their characterizations have multiple similarities. Both are one branch of a god-triad, with Sotha Sil as part of the Tribunal, and Jesus as The Son in the Holy Trinity. Both serve as a teacher, with Jesus being referred to as Teacher several times in the Bible, and Sotha Sil giving lessons on magic and Mysticism to the Psijic Monks. Also, both are characterized as wise, patient, and celibate. They both talk about moral and philosophical concepts with their followers, neither Jesus nor Sotha Sil are shown as having a temper or raising their voices, and neither of them are shown with a spouse or partner. Sotha Sil is specifically shown as not caring about the Night Mother's attempts to sexually manipulate him in book seven of 2920, The Last Year of the First Era. Now I know that 2920 is considered a work of historical fiction in-universe, but I don't think that matters in this situation since I'm approaching this as a person reading a text, not as a person living inside the lore world.

In terms of specific scenes that connect Sotha Sil and Jesus, the first I will mention is that they both use a makeshift whip to beat intruding wrongdoers and drive them away, while yelling about fathers. In the Truth in Sequence vol. 8 book, it says that "[t]hrough His will alone, Mighty Seht wound the veins (of metal ore) into god-bronze whips, and lashed the Prince pitilessly," saying "[b]ehold the wrath of lost Ald Sotha! Know death at my hands, false-son of a false-father!" In the Bible, Jesus found people doing sales in a place of worship, and then He "made a whip of cords, (and) He drove them all out of the temple," saying “Take these things away! Do not make My Father’s house a house of merchandise!” (John 2 15-16).

Also, Jesus had close friends and followers who were called his apostles, and Sotha Sil has his own Clockwork Apostles. Sil's apostles reside in the Clockwork Basilica, and while basilica isn't an exclusively Christian term, it is frequently used to describe a type of church architecture, and is a term the pope uses to recognize distinguished churches.

Another similarity that I found was in the plot of Morrowind, where Sotha Sil's death was caused at the hands of Almalexia, who was someone he had once loved and trusted, much like with Jesus and Judas.

The most notable life similarity as it relates to the Coldharbour Compact is that both leave the earthly world in order to make a deal for the benefit of the souls on earth, and then return to the earthly world. This parallel is given extra weight with the descriptions of the scene in the book 2920, The Last Year of the First Era. Sotha Sil returns from Coldharbour by way of someone "rolling aside the great boulder that blocked the entrance to the Dreaming Cavern. This sounds a lot like the scene in the bible of the discovery that Jesus had risen from the dead, where "an angel of the Lord descended from heaven, and came and rolled back the stone from the door" (Matthew 28:2). In addition, Jesus said "after He is killed, He will rise [on] the third day," (Matthew 17:23) and after Sotha Sil returned from Coldharbour, he "felt he had been away for months, years, but only a few days had transpired." Perhaps it had been 3?

In addition to the life and behavior similarities, there are similarities in dress. In the 2920 book, Sotha Sil is always described as wearing a white robe or cloak. In ESO, Sotha Sil is shown as barefoot, and wearing a blue sash over his long white robe. In medieval and renaissance art, Jesus is most always depicted as barefoot, and is frequently shown with a blue cloth over his shoulder. In most resurrection art, as well as in almost all 20th/21st century art, Jesus is depicted as dressed in white. While Jesus usually isn't usually shown wearing both the blue sash and the white robe at once like Sotha Sil is, I found one modern interpretation of Jesus that does dress him this way, and several depictions of him in Chinese art that also portray him like this.

I'm feeling almost conspiratorial here, but these similarities are far too many for me to think it's accidental, and therefore I have to think that all of this is meant to suggest that Sotha Sil serves a Christ-figure role in his story, i.e. in sacrificing own life like Jesus did in order to make his deal in the Coldharbour Compact. However I don't think Sil's sacrifice was quite so simple. After he is asked what he offered the Daedra in return for the deal, he states: "The deals we make with Daedra... [s]hould not be discussed with the innocent." This implies that in contrast to the Christ mythos, Sil's sacrifice was not blameless; he did not come out of the deal with his hands clean.

So, a Christ-like sacrifice that isn't quite as pure and selfless as it is in Christianity. What could that be?

My theory is that in order to make the Coldharbour Compact, he sold the lives of Vivec and Almalexia along with his own. Perhaps he told the princes that he knew the tribunal's godhood would end, and in exchange for their cooperation he promised not to tell the other tribunes or make any attempt to prevent his and his companions' demise. (After all, as far as I know he made the mechanical heart for keeping his city functional, not for recreating the divinity the heart of Lorkhan provided.) Or, maybe he offered to do something to assist in bringing the Tribunal down, and losing Sunder and Keening, the tools that helped them maintain their divinity, was intentional on his part. Sil deliberately sacrificing his own life appears to be reflected in Azura's statement after his death. She said "he shed his mortality long ago, and I am certain his death was no small relief to him." Of course she'd know that he let go of his life ages ago if he had willingly sold it to her. Of course she would be certain that he found his death to be a relief, if she'd heard him say so himself when he was explaining why a god would ever offer such a deal.

It would also make sense with Sotha Sil's character, since he allegedly loved the people on Nirn more than Almalexia or Vivec did, and the destruction of Gilverdale could have definitely been a traumatic enough reminder of the destruction of Ald Sotha for him to do something dramatic to prevent it ever happening again. And guilt over sacrificing his friends could have definitely been a contributing factor to the worsening self-isolation and intense depression in his later life. It would also be a definite explanation for why he apparently never met another soul in the 10 years between losing the tools and his death. Not only had he become extremely disillusioned with the imperfections of the world, he had now finalized the deal he made so long ago, and saw no point in continuing to interact with a deeply flawed world he was essentially finished with.

However, I do see some issues with this and how it would work in-universe. Namely the fact that Hermaeus Mora's seekers said the prince received something from every individual on Nirn as part of the deal, which is quite different from what I'm suggesting. A different deal for each prince would also explain why Sil was able to include Clavicus Vile and Mephala in the compact at a much later date. There would be no reason for Vile and Mephala to submit to a collective deal whose terms had already been decided. So if he offered the tribunal's lives as part of the deal, he would have needed to offer other things as well. But for me the most significant in-universe issue I struggled with was that using his death as a bargaining tool would create a massive problem for his ability to enforce the deal in the future. This could explain why both Molag Bal and Mehrunes Dagon manifested on Nirn after Sotha Sil's death, but since I think they were summoned by qualified mortals that could have been a loophole. Either way, making a deal that is meant to last forever by promising something that can never be taken back in the case of a breach of contract seems extremely short-sighted for someone who claims to be cursed with certainty. Especially considering how many of the princes there were known to be cheats and liars.

Unless, that is, you believe this theory I read about the reason why Sil was completely silent as he was killed. My original belief was that he was silent because he'd seen it coming long ago, and knew that nothing he could have said would have changed Almalexia's mind. And while that would be in character for him, now I'm starting to think that it was because he had already uploaded his consciousness elsewhere. This would fit in with the Christ-figure parallels, due to the Christian belief that Jesus is risen from the dead and very much alive. While Jesus returned to life at the same time he emerged from the cave, the completion of Sotha Sil's death sacrifice didn't happen until long after his return via the cave. While I have found no explicit evidence that he's still around, when you find his body in Morrowind he is shown hanging, with his arms outstretched at his sides, in a sort of crucifixion pose. And after the crucifixion comes the resurrection. Perhaps Sotha Sil is still around somewhere in the gears of his city, and he promised the princes he'd never be present or have any influence on Nirn so long as they kept up their end of the deal. Additionally, the 37th sermon of Vivec mentions Sotha Sil as holding "his swollen belly," carrying "[his] daughter." While Vivec's sermons are hardly ever literal, Kirkbride's comments suggest that maybe Vivec was being somewhat literal in this instance. Regarding this concept art, Kirkbride said "note the cosmic baby growing inside Sotha Sil. While Sotha Sil is dead as we saw in the add-on pack “Tribunal”, the child survived." Perhaps one of Sotha Sil's many body modifications made him able to carry and birth a child, and then he created a daughter through self-cloning or some other method that allows him to have enough influence to enforce the compact.

TL;DR - Sotha Sil has a lot of similarities with Jesus, so he's a Christ figure and therefore his sacrifice in the Coldharbour Compact was himself, and Almalexia and Vivec too, and that also means that he may still be around.

Anyways, thanks for reading and sorry if this sounds like I'm putting red strings on a wall as my application essay to the r/SothaSimps fan club. Also, lmk if I'm missing anything obvious. For me right now Reading Lore On The Bedroom Floor is a bit more manageable than playing the games, and there may be something I've just completely looked over.

[traincat]

Disregard my last ask because the latest issue raised a troubling question that I, as a black man, feel the need to clarify with you, a woman. That whole whole Ned Leeds/Betty Brant business is sexual assault via deception right? Like you know more about Clones and Spider-Man 616 than I but I feel like that’s besides the point because it happened to Betty. She is carrying the child of whom she thought was her dead ex-husband. And Ned clone has to know he is a clone. He has to know. Unlike Ben and Kaine, he has the awareness and information of the Jackal and the awareness of his progenitor’s death.

Or am I reaching too far and reading too far into things?

I'm glad you came back and asked this specific question because it's definitely something I have a lot of thoughts on, and I’m glad you asked my thoughts on it as a woman because I think this is one of those comic book storylines that’s hard for me to divorce that fact from -- the fact that I’m a woman definitely plays into how I view this storyline specifically and how it effects me, in ways I don’t think were necessarily intended by some of the writers involved in its ongoing arc who were not looking at things from the same perspective I’m coming at them from. I definitely don't think you're reaching or reading too far into things -- I think that is what's being presented on the page, albeit likely without authorial intent. Just as like a general disclaimer, I'm not closely following Spencer's run for the sheer reason that I'm not enjoying it very much, although I'm aware of the general directions it's taking through friends and social media. But I actually think this Betty/Ned issue goes back pretty far.

First things first, I think Clone Conspiracy really wreaked havoc on how Spider-Man as a series has always handled clones. Pre-Clone Conspiracy, there was a very clear clone narrative going on: clones are their own person, they are not direct copies or replacements of the original. You see this with Ben Reilly and you see it with the Gwen Stacy clones. Clones are treated as their own individuals, even if they have to struggle to get to that point -- there's even an issue of Spider-Man Unlimited where Ben and Betty go on a date. Betty doesn't know that Ben is Peter's clone -- he's introduced as his cousin -- and they both reflect on how you can't go back to the way things were. So even though Ben has all of Peter's memories regarding his initial romance with Betty, the narrative makes it clear that Ben and Betty cannot recapture that connection or that exact relationship.

Here's where Clone Conspiracy changed everything, in my opinion for the worse: Clone Conspiracy's clone narrative is that these clones are, essentially, the original person. I believe the Marvel wiki still actually lists the end of Clone Conspiracy as 616 Gwen Stacy's issue of death instead of Amazing Spider-Man #121, because Clone Conspiracy treated that Gwen not simply as a clone with all of the same memories, but as essentially Gwen resurrected through a cloning process. The Billy Connors who was cloned is treated as the same Billy Connors who was killed by his father in Shed (Amazing Spider-Man #630-633). And the clone Ned is treated as the same as 616 Ned. This is a mess, to put it simply, because it goes against all the previous Spider-Man cloning narratives and, honestly, most popular sci-fi clone narratives, and it's seriously undermining decades of good Spider-Man storytelling in ways that Slott didn't address and that Spencer seems unwilling to. It probably wouldn't have been a very big deal -- a frustrating one, but not a big one -- if all of the clones had perished at the end of Clone Conspiracy, but they didn't. Billy Connors escaped, and it's immensely frustrating to me to see Peter treating the Connors family reunion as something he can tolerate when Curt Connors ate his kid, and the Ned clone slithered away in the gutters to, I assume, spite me personally.

Which brings us to the current Betty Brant storyline in Amazing Spider-Man, where Betty has showed up heavily pregnant and informed Peter that the child is Ned's.

Yeah, I would say this is in fact the worst possible part. (ASM (2018) #67) Just speaking for myself, I'm generally not anti-pregnancy or baby storylines in comics, but this one is making me very uncomfortable for reasons beside Spencer being apparently unable to find any way to fit Betty into his stories without her showing pregnant.

So I'm actually going to take this back way, way to when Betty and Ned first got married, with some explanation of who Ned Leeds is for the uninformed, because, especially with the MCU's Ned Leeds in the mix, he's not exactly the world's most well known Spider-Man character. (I’m sure @ubernegro, who is much more well read on Miles Morales’ canon than I am, has thoughts on how the MCU’s Ned borrowed heavily off the character of Ganke Lee with a 616 Peter Parker character’s name pasted over him.) Ned was initially introduced as Peter's competition for Betty's affections -- Ned was older than both Peter and Betty, a working reporter, and presented as the more "stable" option compared to Peter, who of course Betty vastly preferred before circumstances tore them apart. Ned and Betty married in Amazing Spider-Man #156 and jetsetted off to Europe for Ned's job. This is where the cracks in the marriage began. Betty later reveals that she felt abandoned by Ned in Europe, to the point where she was able to come back to New York without his immediate notice -- as a woman, it's very easy to read their relationship at this point as being one filled with, if not abuse, then emotional neglect. Betty and Peter have a quick extramarital affair at this point -- Peter has just broken up with Mary Jane and Betty claims she and Ned are separating -- that persists until Ned returns and punches Peter over it.

(ASM #193)

(ASM #229) Betty and Ned reconcile off panel shortly thereafter, but that's pretty far from the end of the story. It's implied that the problems Betty and Ned previously had start to develop again, namely that Betty feels abandoned by Ned, that he is inattentive and, again, as a woman, it's hard not to read it as emotional neglect, if not abuse -- yet. Betty does start another affair at this point, this time with Flash Thompson, and Ned starts acting strangely. It would later be retconned that he was suffering the effects of hypnotism by the Hobgoblin, but like I said, that's a retcon, and what was happening at the time was that Ned was acting erratically in part because he was the villainous Hobgoblin. Ned becomes controlling, threatening, and verbally and physically abusive towards Betty.

(ASM #284)

(ASM #283) "I suppose you think it's all right for a wife to cheat on her husband!" "No -- but I won't let you hurt her, either." Leaving aside that Peter also had an affair with Betty, something he's conveniently forgetting in the above panels, I've always really liked this exchange, because the narrative makes it clear through Peter's response to Ned that, whatever the audience may think of Betty for cheating on Ned, it is reprehensible for Ned to publicly humiliate her and/or physically abuse her as a response.

Then Ned Leeds dies in Spider-Man vs Wolverine and he's revealed as the Hobgoblin posthumously shortly thereafter and that remains canon for years and years until it's later retconned out, as comics are wont to do. But that's not really that important for this conversation -- my point being, at one point in Spider-Man canon, it's made fairly clear to the reader that Ned is an abusive husband. He emotionally neglected and abused Betty several times over and physically hurt her at least once on panel, with the clear intent that the reader should realize that he is physically hurting her. So for me as a reader and as a woman, this has always been a really uncomfortable relationship. I have a problem with later Spider-Man comics claiming that it's "not Ned's fault" that he abused Betty because of the retcon that he was hypnotized, and I have a problem with the MCU making Betty and Ned into a cute summer fling in Spider-Man: Far From Home, because I feel like Ned's clear abuse of Betty either gets excused or entirely glossed over. And I don’t think the initial abuse storyline is bad -- I think there’s some amount of value in portraying Betty as a woman who marries too young, who experiences a terrible marriage, and who then spends years recovering from that marriage, which was the case up until they retconned Ned’s abuse of her as a side effect of him being controlled by the real Hobgoblin. What I’m specifically uncomfortable with is the post-retcon attitude that since Ned didn’t really mean to abuse Betty, it’s perfectly fine to portray the relationship in a positive light when even before Ned’s abuse became physical that wasn’t the case. I think that’s ultimately really irresponsible storytelling.  As a reader, I’m not against soap opera style storylines -- someone getting impregnated by a cone of their ex-husband seems pretty par for the course. But there’s so much additional context here that I still haven’t entirely processed how I feel about this Betty storyline, except that what I feel isn’t positive.

So yes, I would agree with you when I say I think there’s quite a lot of deception involved in Betty’s pregnancy storyline -- the Ned clone didn’t tell her he was a clone, even though he had full knowledge of that fact, just as he had full knowledge of how badly the original Ned treated Betty over the course of their relationship -- that renders their sexual encounter and Betty’s pregnancy uncomfortable for me as a reader, to put it mildly. I don’t think it’s out of character for the Ned clone, given that he acts much like the original Ned: he’s selfish and controlling, withholding information from Betty to suit his own needs. The tragedy of Ned and Betty isn’t that Ned died, as more recent Spider-Man stories like to portray it -- including this one, where Betty doesn’t have the knowledge that a) the Ned she reunited with was a clone and not the original and b) that that clone later died. (ASM #816.) The tragedy is that writers continue to force Betty Brant into Ned Leeds storylines instead of letting her as a character grow past him, and that the only way Spencer thought to include her, one of the longest running Spider-Man characters, back in the story was to have her appear starry-eyed over carrying the child of (the clone of) her abusive ex-husband, and the tragedy is that nobody writing more recent Betty and Ned interactions seems to realize that Ned was a villain not because he was briefly the Hobgoblin but because of how he treated Betty. 

[pastelsandpining]

All I Want for Christmas (Yearning)

The third prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​

Prompt List

**Note: For the stories actually involving Christmas, I and a few other authors changed the holiday to Hylia’s Day (credit to @fatefulfaerie​ for this) so that it’s more relevant to Hyrule

Cover Art: @neezlebums​ be sure to show some love to the original here! I cannot stress this enough guys, PLEASE go like and reblog his work. He spends hours upon hours on every single cover drawing and it’s super disheartening that he’s getting 8 notes max on things he’s working really hard on. So please give his post as much love as you give mine! 

Words: 1956

Summary: Link takes Zelda out to the Festival of Hylia in the hopes that she can enjoy it as a normal kid, and they share a moment during the fireworks show.

BotW pre-calamity (not HWAOC related)

**If I don’t have explicit warnings, read with caution. It simply means there’s nothing I could think of that could be potentially triggering, but I could’ve just missed something. In that case, please let me know and I’ll be more than happy to put a warning!**

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist

The concept of soulmates is rather simple for something so deep. Whether it be one soul torn into two, or a red string of fate, or two souls that found comfort in one another, the premise was the same. Lifetime after lifetime, for the eternity that was to come and go, two hearts cried out for one another. They searched high and low, across continents and oceans, across timelines and ages, yearning for their partner—their lost piece.

Yet fate could be a cruel player in the game of existence. It could drive a stake in between a set of mates, or prevent their meeting entirely. It could taunt them with the prospect of forever, and take it away at twice the speed. 

It could take those souls and resurrect them only in times of destruction and decimation. 

How much could a soul handle? How much could it stretch and bend before it shattered? Was it still marked by trauma all those years later, when it was finally placed into a vessel and sent back into the world?

The soul of a hero, for instance, would be battered and bruised until fate decided there was no use for it. 

And until that decision was made, the hero’s soul would stay by the goddess’s side, even thousands upon thousands of years later. 

An impending war, what they referred to as a Calamity, was nothing new to the old souls. Yet they were filled with optimism, a sort of youthful comfort that wrapped like a blanket, and old souls did not entirely push away childish ideas and schemes.

Said hero was scampering through the streets, hand in hand with the young goddess, both tucked under cloaks that fared as a decent disguise given most participants were too drunk to think otherwise at this point in the night. 

“You cheated,” Zelda accused through a fit of giggles, but she made no move to drop the stuffed sand seal.

“I did not,” Link defended with a borderline emergent smile as he stole a glance towards the booth they’d run from. “I was just… a little better than their usual customers.”

“Yes, because their regular customers consist of skilled soldiers of Hyrule.”

“You don’t know that.”

Zelda pressed a hand over her mouth and laughed again. It got harder to suppress his smile. Something about the freedom that came with sneaking out, on top of the thrill of being where they weren’t supposed to be, left him feeling giddy and mischievous. It’d taken a while to convince Zelda to come with him, but attending the Festival of Hylia to only bestow a blessing over the kingdom wasn’t fair. They’d attended earlier in the day, with the princess wearing a grand, white dress to make her look like the goddess, and all he wanted to do was give her a chance to experience the festival as a normal kid. It was the least she deserved, after spending all of her time and effort focused on the Calamity. Of course, the only way they could actually get out was in a disguise, but Link trusted the cloaks would do their jobs so long as the late night attendees were drinking properly.

“You’re positive we won’t get caught?” she asked, for what had to be the hundredth time since they’d left the castle.

“Do you trust me?” he asked in response, fixing his eyes on hers. They were twinkling even in the darkness, and he could see the Castle Town lights reflected in her irises. When he looked at her like this, when there was no one watching them with attentive eyes, he found it hard to believe she was only Hylian. She radiated a light they couldn’t see, but he knew it was there because she was always so warm. Her eyes were always so bright.

“Yes,” she answered with a nod. Once again, Link almost smiled. But instead, he pulled her by the hand over to another booth. The worker looked too tired to care, so he didn’t have to take much caution in sliding over the rupees and asking for a soft pretzel, a caramel apple that had caught Zelda’s eye, and a set of drinks. It was just a shame they had to release hands to hold it all. 

“We used to come to the festivals all the time,” Zelda said after a few bites, letting her shoulder brush against his. “My mother would play the goddess and do the blessings, but after that, father would take me around to the different games and let me play. I was never any good at it, but they gave me prizes anyway. Mother was brilliant, though. She knew just how to get past the games’ rigging.  After her death, father didn’t let me stay out as long. Once I was twelve, my only purpose at the festival was to give the blessings. Did your family always come?”

“Almost every year. My father always took us the first night,” Link spoke with a nod. “Because he was on duty the other two. He tried getting my sister and I to play the games, but I was only interested in the food.”

Another giggle passed the princess’s lips. 

“It sounds like you haven’t changed at all,” she replied, nudging him again. 

“Except now I know how to win,” he said and gestured to the stuffed sand seal.

“I still think you cheated.”

“They cheated us first.”

Zelda had no argument to that one. Link tossed the paper from his pretzel into the trash, then adjusted the fasten on his cloak.

“Do you think we’ll be able to see the fireworks?” she asked. “I used to watch them from my window all the time.”

“I don’t know if it’s better than the view from your window, but I know a place,” he replied. Zelda slipped an arm around his, like she’d done it a thousand times before, and he ducked his head to hide his face from the overhanging light.

“I’ll have to see it in order to judge,” she said simply. He fought back a smile and pulled her through the streets of Castle Town once more, until they’d reached the outskirts. 

Link jumped up to grab the tree branch above them, then turned and held his hands out to her. Apparently his intentions were clear because even in the darkness, he could see that Zelda was appalled.

“We can’t climb on a random person’s house! Link! Get down!” she yelled in a whisper, but he just let the grin cover his face.

“It’s empty. For sale, I think,” he replied with a shrug. She looked around, as if she wanted to make sure they were really alone, before taking his hands. He pulled her into the tree effortlessly, then boosted her up onto the roof of a Castle Town house. “It’s no castle view, but you won’t be eye-level with the fireworks.”

“You can see the entire festival from here,” she spoke when he joined her at the top. “It’s not just lights. You can see everything. How did you..?”

“There was one year when my father had to attend all three nights, so it was just my sister and I. We ran out of rupees trying one of the games, and she was really upset, so I just.. snatched a prize and ran. We climbed onto a roof and stayed there for the rest of the festival, until I was sure he hadn’t sent any soldiers after us. It gave us a pretty good view.”

“You thief!” Zelda accused, giving him a shove. Link bit back a laugh.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told. So now you’re the holder of some pretty powerful information.”

She hummed in thought and leaned her head against the plushie.

“I could do so much with this. I could tell everyone and finally have my freedom from you.”

“I don’t know if stealing a plushie from a festival booth ten years ago is enough to get me demoted.”

“It’s a serious crime,” but he could hear the laughter in Zelda’s voice. He turned to face her just as the first of the fireworks went off, drowning her in a soft yellow light. Even if he wanted to watch the fireworks, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her. She was in a category all of her own, and the word beautiful couldn’t describe her in her entirety. 

He could call her hair golden, but it still didn’t capture her richness. He could compare her eyes to emeralds, and it still wouldn’t tell how precious they were. He could say her voice was a melody, and it still couldn’t describe how much he loved the song she sang each time she spoke. With every passing day, she grew more and more into the goddess whose blood she carried in her veins. She radiated a power and displayed a wisdom he’d never seen before, yet it felt so familiar to him that it never surprised him. He could watch her for hours, whether she was studying the Sheikah technology or praying at the foot of a goddess statue (not that he did, obviously, because that was sacred and private). It didn’t feel like a job--it never had. He’d give his life for her over and over again, like it was written into his blood and soul. Like he’d done it before. 

With how far they’d come, Link wondered just how much could one feel for a single person. If he could shield her from the world, he would. But she didn’t need that. Zelda was strong and independent, but what he wouldn’t give to remain by her side for as long as he could.

She took his arm again and rested her head against his shoulder. Her hold was as gentle as she. Her fingers intertwined with his and he gave her hand a small squeeze.

“Link?” 

He hummed to let her know he was listening and ready to answer any question she wanted to ask. 

“What do you want for Hylia’s Day?”

The gift giving tradition held true even to this year, but Link didn’t quite know how to answer her. What he really wanted was her. He wanted her to be happy and safe and secure. He wanted the goddess to respond, and for her powers to awaken so she could just enjoy whatever time they had left. 

Was there a stronger word that fit this feeling than yearning? Yearning for Zelda and her life and her future. 

He bit his cheek in thought, because none of that could be said aloud.

“I want a promise,” he replied at last. “that once this is all over, you’ll keep researching. And that maybe I can stay your knight attendant for as long as you can tolerate me.”

She almost laughed.

“Link.. I can’t promise anything. If I can’t awaken this power, then-“

“You will,” he said, holding her hand tighter. “I believe in you.”

Zelda smiled at him—weak and small, but it still filled him with a warmth that made him feel all the more confident.

“I want a day off to just relax with our friends,” she stated, returning her head to his shoulder.

“All of our friends?”

“Yes, even Revali.”

Link chuckled and shook his head, watching the last of the fireworks pop. He’d never felt more relaxed than he did then. It was like they belonged there. Something about her was so calming that he didn’t want to go back to the castle just yet. 

“Thank you,” she spoke softly into the quieting night. “For tonight.”

He wished he could kiss her.

Instead, he gave her hand a squeeze and said, “Anything you want, Princess. Just say the word.”

[foreverandaday-1]

Tenderly They Turned To Dust All That I Adored

Inspired by @julielilac s post/gif on the doctor and the master. The first 14 lines of a dialogue are hers, with a few minor changes.

I kind of went on a tangent, and turned this into a weirdly tense hurt/comfort fic, but oh well. Also inspired by my Renamed fic on AO3, under foreverandaday_1

‘Doctor,’ came a voice from the shadowed corner.

‘We meet at last,’ said the woman, equally as wary, yet with a predatory sharpness to her eyes. She wanted answers, and she would get them.

‘I’d like to say I’m glad to see you, but I’m not,’ he said, a slight teasing note, something comfortable but still wary.

‘Shame. I was actually hoping for a welcome for a welcome kiss,’ she returned, voice relaxed slightly.

‘Oh really?’ was his reply, full of put-on amusement to mask the confusion at her unusual playfulness. Yet playfulness wasn’t right, unless describing the way a lion played with its soon-to-be-dead food.

‘I was joking,’ her tone was back to serious.

‘Right. So why are you here then?’

‘I’m looking for answers and you are well aware of this. Who or what the timeless child is, and why you destroyed our home,’ she raised her eyebrows, as if offended by his question, it was obvious what she wanted.

He huffed out a laugh, looking amused. She didn’t notice his slight twinge when moving his ribs.

‘Also, what happened to your hair?’ curiosity was evident in her voice, and she was trying not to compliment him. Luckily she was distracted by the hopefully-soon-to-be-given answers.

‘There were difficulties in escaping from the Kasaavin Dimension.’

‘And yet you were able to escape?’

He huffed, ‘no thanks to you.’

‘You were expecting me to help? Why would I put you somewhere, that took effort and time, just to bring you back out again? A little counterproductive don’t you think?’

‘As if I’d want help from you.’

She smirked, ‘so no help with your injury?’

‘What injury?’ he played off.

‘You’re ribs, I saw you wince.’

‘I’m perfectly capable, thanks.’

‘Manners? Take off your shirt Kos.’

‘Trying to undress me?’

She sighed, crossing her arms.

‘I’m fine.’ 

She raised her eyebrows.

‘Ok, ok, maybe I could collapse within an hour, but it’s not that bad.’

‘Shirt. Off.’

‘Fine. you’re ever so bossy, love. I can’t say it’s just in this regeneration either.’

She ignored his comments, and, thankfully, only slightly affected by the pet name. ‘That looks painful. No wonder you were wincing,’ she moved closer, ‘go lay on the table.’

He rolled his eyes before doing as she said, flinching slightly as he bent his torso. She prodded at the bruised skin of his chest. There was a slightly green glow coming from the deep purple bruised across his lower right ribs. She tried not to enjoy inflicting pain, but sometimes it was nice to have revenge, even if that reinstated her hypocrisy. 

‘So,’ he said after a few minutes, ‘you going to do anything?’

‘I want an explanation of what the hell happened to you later.’

‘Of course, love.’

Well there’s an easier way and a harder way.’

‘For me or for you?’

‘Easy for me, painful for you. Easy for you, stupid for me.,’ she tilted her head, thinking. His mental barriers were just out of reach. Even though it was a bad idea to get closer again, she wanted to. The last time before the Paris thing had been centuries ago, and sometimes her mind felt empty. Lonely without another presence.

‘Well I vote the least painful way.’

‘For me or for you?’ her voice was looser and calmer, she was relaxed in his presence. It probably wasn’t the best idea but it was as if they were young again, without the millennia of pain and fire separating the strands of time.

He smirked at that, looking like he wanted to laugh. She walked towards his head with a contemplative expression, before voicing her thoughts.

‘There’s a quick way, and it’s not like I don’t have any left. Who knows how many I actually have.’

He grimaced, ‘about that…’

‘What?’

‘You have an infinite amount.’

‘I’m going to ignore the fact that you shouldn’t know that, and jump straight to what the hell?’

‘That's not for today's conversation, because I also happen to have none.’

‘You have, but… If you die, you’ll be dead?’

‘That is how death works, love.’

She rolled her eyes, ‘I mean, permanently, no resurrection or trick or stupidly thought out yet genius plan to surprise me again?’

‘No, dead as in gone forever.’

‘But you can’t,’ she said thickly, almost crying for the first time, she realised, with this particular face.

He looked shocked that she was actually voicing some feeling for once.

‘Koschei,’ she said, looking in his eyes, voice carrying the musical lilt of Galifreyan, ‘you can’t die, not now.’ Not ever.

He smiled at the language, one that they hadn’t spoken for a long time. It was a genuine smile, not seen for as equally as long of a time.

‘You said you had an idea, Theta,’ he said softly, comforting with a press of his consciousness against hers.

‘I,’ she sniffed, ‘ when River… you know who she is right?’

He nodded, ‘one of three humans I can tolerate, yes.’

‘Because River had… weird genes… when she broke her wrist, I used regeneration energy to heal it. I wasn’t able to regenerate for a few hours after, or heal as fast, but it worked.’

‘Awfully sentimental of you.’

‘She was important, and had pretended to be fine for my benefit.’ she paused, before looking up at him. ‘How come you don’t mind that I married her?’

‘While I may hate your pets because they don’t deserve your attention, she was different. She was important to you, and not a pet of yours. I could actually get on with her, and have an intelligent conversation.’

She smiled, happy that two people that shaped her life could have gotten along.

‘Now love, enough of the emotion, we should get to your plan.’

‘I can use my, apparently limitless, regeneration energy to heal you. It might have to be a full one, to properly work, but I don’t think you’ll change,’ she sounded happier, a slight touch of sarcasm evident in her voice.

‘Won’t that mean you can’t regenerate for a while? Or that you’ll regenerate with me?’

‘Possibly. But, again with River, when she revived me, she didn’t change.’

‘What?’

‘She may have killed me after regenerating before giving up all of hers to bring me back to life.’

‘Ignoring the fact that she of all people managed to actually kill you for the first time in all of history…’

‘It’s probably why Daleks seem terrified of her,’ she cut in.

‘... yes, but you need a mental and physical connection.’

‘Yep, full open contact between consciousnesses, and a close physical contact, with as many inner surfaces close.’

‘You and River, properly married?’

‘Yeah, Bonded and everything. It was partly in a separate timeline that no longer exists and also never existed.’

‘Okay, but, love, mouth to mouth?’

‘I wasn’t entirely joking when I mentioned a welcome kiss earlier.’

‘I didn’t think so.’

They stayed close together, and she stood by his form laying on the table, hands clasped in each others. They reached out their minds, before he sat up, wincing. Both closed their eyes, physical sight wasn’t needed. 

They leaned together, hand-to-hand, forehead-to-forehead, hearts-to-hearts.

‘Contact.’

Contact.

They both whispered it quietly, and spoke loudly in their minds. Volume didn’t matter as much as intent did. Intent to re-bond completely after a lifetime of mental separation. It took both eons, and no time at all.

It was an explosion of thought and feeling. A sensation unlike any other, yet reminiscent of coming home. A sense of welcoming in a place long forgotten yet forever remembered. A contradiction and cycle, of my thought is yours, your thought is mine. Memories were absorbed, and information shared.

She tugged on the always-there well of energy, as if waking it up. It swirled within her, before spreading out to her limbs, gathering at her fingertips. 

His hands glowed the same pale gold, as the tangible glow drew up his arms. They pushed closer still, tilting their necks to have better access.

Her lips pressed to his. His lips pressed to hers.

The energy pushed through completely, moving around them both. A swirl of pale gold and a feeling of life hanging in the air.

The glow collected around his injury, the bruised fading, sickly green hue leached away. Small scars knitted seamlessly, and any more bruises disappeared. His ribs shifted slightly, returning to their original position.

After a few seconds, minutes, hours, she stepped back. Not just one, but continually walking back to the door.

‘It’s not the time to ask,’ she smiled with an air of bittersweetness. ‘We’ll find each other when we’re ready.’

[earbuds-and-hightops]

An Open Letter to Supernatural

[ Spoiler warning for 15x20, obviously ]

I understand that a well-contemplated complaint about this ending cannot be made without first reading the original, pre-COVID, script of 15x20, but in the long run, the initial plan is not what will be remembered. 

What will be remembered is what this show created. What it became beyond two brothers driving around the country, hunting monsters. Characters were introduced and developed, and in that, Sam and Dean Winchester become so much more than two kids living on the road. In the past 15 years, the cast, and thus the family, grew to something that would be unimaginable to those who started this project back in 2005. Not only did the characters and their stories become meaningful, but the show itself grew into, well, a family. The fans who have kept this show alive since Day 1 have come together to form what I believe is the greatest community in pop culture. 

What hurts the most is that this finale did not do any of that development justice. 

The finale (and consequently the episodes leading up to it) reverts back to the story between only Sam and Dean. While some see this as an ode to who they are--their brotherhood and familial bond being the heart of their values and the root of their characters--I cannot help but see this as a rejection of their experiences this past decade and a half. 

What’s worse, episode 15x18 confirmed one of the most pure and powerful and goddamn beautiful romances that television will ever see. This story of an angel who abandoned his family and the only beings he’s known for thousands of years, all for one person. I knew from the instant the screen faded to black on November 5 that the story of Castiel will always be remembered, even if his feelings were unrequited. Castiel will always be remembered. 

And then there’s Destiel. I was genuinely impressed that this show would even grow to include a queer angel, more importantly, a queer character in a leading role. The queer-baiting and the “bury your gays” trope both make this confession and its lack of acknowledgement that much worse (and is worthy of an entirely separate open letter for another night). It matters less if Dean does or doesn’t reciprocate these feelings and more that it’s wrong that he completely ignores it. Cas’s love confession, this beautifully tragic and tragically beautiful emotion coming from a being who wasn’t supposed to feel emotions at all, is something that, unfortunately, will become a secret that dies with Dean Winchester. 

It’s truly a shame that the writers of this show let that happen. 

We haven’t even touched the fact that Castiel’s death was an act of sacrifice to save Dean. Dean’s limited reaction and lack of mourning* tears apart this phrase that has become pivotal to the entire show and fanbase: “Family don’t end in blood.” While it would be a lot to ask that Dean rescue Cas from the Empty and resume their cycle of rescue and resurrection, I think it’s only fair that Dean take the time to fully accept Castiel’s actions and words for what they mean instead of simply moving forward as if they never happened.

What’s more, Misha Collins is one of the greatest and kindest people in this world, and he’s poured his heart and soul into Supernatural, just like everybody else. He’s spent 12 years on this project, and the final two episodes hardly mentioned his character. He didn’t deserve this. It’s heartbreaking that his last credit on this show will be a prank call from someone trying to impersonate him, and not something that pays tribute to such an important character and important actor**

The most devastating part of this ending is what happened in 15x19. Pardon my French when I say that that episode, the ultimate climax of the season and latter half of the series, was a piece of dog shit. It’s incredibly frustrating to invest in 15 years worth of television and look forward to this ultimate battle between two average boys and God the Almighty Himself and to instead watch a 6-minute long fist fight on the beach with the only dialogue being variations of “seriously guys, stay down.” 

My issues with 15x19 lie less in the storyline that was chosen and more in how they were presented. I am completely on board with Jack taking God’s power and eventually becoming the new God, but the episode was far too quick to have any real meaning, and, as stated before, Castiel’s sacrifice, which allows Sam, Dean, and Jack to do what they do in 15x19, is hardly mentioned.

Most fans agree that 15x19 was far too quickly paced. The plot with Michael and Lucifer was questionable to begin with, but should have been an episode on its own if it were to be perused at all. Michael’s story in particular could have been fleshed out to reiterate this theme of overly loyal sons and their fathers, as well as their relationships with less loyal siblings, but was instead reduced to about 20 minutes of screen time. 

Though this is less important, Lucifer’s plan to make a new Death felt like a cheap cop-out just to close the storyline with Death’s book, but we can finish that discussion another day. 

The general fan reaction to this atrocity of an episode was that this was meta, and according to Becky, the ending was supposed to be dog shit. This, along with the untouched storyline started when Cas died, gave fans so much hope that the finale would be this amazing piece of art that puts Supernatural in the history books. 

While it’s obvious that an hour cannot perfectly tie up every single event and arc with a pretty little bow, it can at least...try. Any finale should, at minimum, pay tribute to what the show started as (which 15x20 did well) and what it became (which 15x20 failed to do miserably). 

In addition, a reference to character back in season 1 is incredibly frustrating when recurring characters with actual, well, character go unnoticed. I mostly reference Eileen here, but this also applies to Jody and Donna. Nobody even mentions the other wonderful friends who have helped Sam and Dean along their journey to Heaven. If family doesn’t end in blood, then why doesn’t it extend to include Castiel, Jack, Mary, Rowena, Charlie, Kevin, Jody and her girls, Donna, and so many others?

Dean’s death was sad, I’ll give them that (and honestly, I was expecting it). However, considering that this man has defeated apocalypses, killed Death, and taken down God, his death via nail in the wall was incredibly anticlimactic, and something that could literally have happened at any point over the 15 seasons. While Dean’s death was obviously not my ideal ending, I think it could have worked if it were done properly, and in this case, it was not. That said, I do appreciate that Sam did not try to bring Dean back, as that would indicate literally no growth at all.

Dean’s funeral was...pathetic, to say the least. Sam being the only person there was depressing considering that Dean had lots of other close friends (and you’d think that Jack would pay his respects, but apparently not), however, this is likely a scene that was impacted by COVID and the availability of some of the cast, so I will not dwell on that scene.

Dean’s time in Heaven complicates matters even more. Firstly, Bobby confirms that Castiel is no longer in the Empty and has been in contact with Jack. I would have loved to see this reunion; Cas is essentially Jack’s father, and I would have loved to see how their upgrading/remodeling of Heaven brought them closer together. I understand that the writers were trying to focus this finale story on the brothers, this goes back to my earlier point that you cannot simply ignore everything that that this show has grown to include. Bobby’s explanation also begs the question of why Dean had no intention of seeing Cas (or Jack, for that matter) again now that he has the opportunity.

Secondly, Dean’s instinct to go directly for the Impala was very in-character, however, the editing implied that driving was all Dean did until Sam died. As we know, Sam dies of old age, likely (completely guessing here) upwards of 40-50 years from Dean’s death, and that is a very, very long time for Dean to simply driving around the mountains. It would have been nice to see Dean reunite with other family and friends who are also in Heaven, however, again, COVID restraints.

Sam’s ending was similar to what I and a lot of other fans imagined (not necessarily wanted, but predicted) it to be: kids and a wife, living a normal, monster-free, life. I hate to believe that he doesn’t end up with Eileen (to my recollection, his wife was a blur in the background, and it is unclear if she was meant to be Eileen) however that might just be my bias and appreciation of Shoshannah Stern. While I’m glad that this storyline gave Sam the room to grow and develop without his brother, it also completely ignores everything that he’s been through this past decade and a half, and that is something that should not happen. Sam grew and changed so much since he left Stanford and leaving that life, the life of a hunter, behind feels very counterintuitive.

Let’s not even discuss the wig that Jared wore. It reminded me of the Cain wig that Rob wore in the Hillywood parody.

What shocked me the most at the beginning of this episode was the lack of a “The Road So Far” compilation. I hoped for the full song with a recap of all 15 seasons, or, at minimum, the typical single-season recap. “Carry On My Wayward Son” is such an important part of the show and the culture of the fan base, that it seems almost sacrilegious that the season finale not begin with this song and a memorial to the events in the past season (or series).*** I’m very happy that it was included at all, but I was shocked when Neoni’s cover took over.

No disrespect to Neoni; those girls are incredibly talented and I love their music, however, a series finale of a 15 season long show does not feel like the place for a cover when they already have the rights to the original, and the original is so iconic.

Lastly, I want to acknowledge Jensen Ackles’s reaction to this conclusion. At a con panel about a year ago, he said that he needed to be talked into agreeing to this script by Erik Kripke himself, because the ending just wasn’t sitting right with him. So many fans took this to believe that he was homophobic and afraid that of Destiel becoming fully canon, and he got so much more hate than he deserved, because ultimately, he was right in his first opinion. This isn’t the way this story should have ended. Jensen explained that he had been “too close” to the story, and that it took a more holistic view from a step backwards (the audience’s perspective, as he puts it) to agree on this ending, but honestly, nobody knows Dean Winchester better than Jensen, and he knows what’s best and what would be the best way to finish this character’s arc. I think fans and Jensen alike agree that this wasn’t it.

I sympathize with all of the cast and crew members who disagree with how this show ended but are bounded by contract to support this show no matter what. Especially Misha and Jensen.

Over all, I believe that Supernatural will go down in history (in internet communities, at least) as one of the greatest shows ever. While I do agree that the writing quality in terms of both dialogue and plot declined as years passed, the community, the family, that this show created cannot be ignored because of a poorly written/planned ending. I think that the fandom will collectively let go of this disaster of an ending that we were given and will, just like Sam and Dean, write our own stories. I have full faith and confidence that Supernatural will not be represented by this finale episode, but by the beautiful stories, amazing characters, and the family that this show created and what the fans have chosen to do with it.

Sincerely,

A Fiercely Frustrated but Fiercely Loyal Fan

* I do not count that last clip of Dean crying on the floor as mourning. In my mind, that was a reaction, not an emotional healing and overcoming, if that makes sense. I argue that if Dean were to fully mourn and process everything (like Sam did in 15x20) we would have seen at least a bit of that on screen. 

** This is where I would have loved to see some of the original scripts. I hope that the writers initial intentions were to have Misha more involved in these last two episodes than what was likely a voice memo created in 10 minutes tops at Misha’s house.

*** The strange montage at the end of 15x19 makes so much more sense. I still would have preferred that montage at the beginning of 15x20. This also shines light on the video that Misha posted. What would we do without him :)

[bat-losers-inc]

Beat the Devil’s Tattoo: Chapter 3

A Collisions in the Dark AU, where instead of rescuing Tim from her father, Talia chooses to save Jason’s life, leaving Tim at the mercy, and wrath, of Ra’s al Ghul. Tim eventually wins his freedom, but the price he pays for it? Serving as a double agent for Ra’s, who wants to give Bruce a taste of his own medicine.

_____

Nanda Parbat, Tibet

October 7, 4:00 pm

It was late afternoon in the courtyard gardens in Ra’s’ compound and Tim sat on a stone bench under the shade of a rhododendron bush in full bloom. He breathed in the honey-scented air and stared at the small water feature gurgling away in front of him, his thoughts occupied with various plans of escape. Located two stories above the ground floor, Tim was originally drawn to the gardens because of the courtyard walls. They looked easy enough to scale and picking his way down the mountainside seemed far safer than braving the sheer drop from his window to the rocky ledge far below.

However, Nanda Parbat was nestled in a small valley of the Tanggula mountain range —  carob-colored rockfaces ascending around them from all sides. Even if he managed the climb over the courtyard wall unseen, he doubted he’d survive such a journey at that altitude as it would mean climbing free solo, higher, over the nearest ridge and descending down the other side until he could find the Tanggula pass which navigated through the range.

So instead, Tim sat in the garden and tried not to think about how small and narrow his life had become in such a vast open region as the Tibetan plateau. The irony of it was painful to him — like the universe was playing a sick joke and he was the punch line.

Over the course of a few days, he had developed a routine of irregularity. Each morning he awoke at sunrise and slipped out of his room to find a new area of Ra’s compound to retreat to— the library, the small Buddist temple where some of the recruits performed their morning meditations, and most recently the gardens — intent on being anywhere that Ra’s was not. But there came a point every afternoon where he found that he couldn’t hide no matter how far he wandered and he’d startle at a servant’s hand on his shoulder ready to escort him back to his room to clean up for dinner.

Gravel crunched behind him. Too early, Tim thought and knew it wasn’t a servant coming to get him. He made to stand but too late. Halfway to his feet, an arm snaked around his torso and he found himself pulled into the snare of Ra’s’ embrace, his back held flush against Ra’s’ solid chest.

Ra’s’ other hand caught him under the chin and pulled his head back until it rested over his shoulder. Tim gasped at the effort of it— his back curving like a bow, hips unwittingly pressing up into Ra’s’ forearm if only to relieve the strain.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding all day.” Ra’s breathed against the shell of his ear, his mouth so close his teeth almost nipped at his skin with every word he spoke. “I should have guessed after what you asked me last night. The gardens do offer the best views.”

True to the agreement that Tim had negotiated, last night saw them back in Ra’s’ bedroom. He hadn’t intended on ending up back there so soon but a servant had placed a pitcher of Arak on the table during dinner and Tim had steeled his nerves with one too many glasses of the strong cloudy-colored liquid. And before he knew what had happened, they were standing face to face outside of Ra’s’ bedroom door breathing in each other’s anise-scented breaths.

Ra’s chuckled as he stumbled and leaned heavily into his shoulder. “I will have to remember to teach you how to hold you Arak, Detective.”

“ Where are we?”

“Outside my bedroom.”

I should leave, he remembered thinking to himself. But his brain was sluggish and apparently set on other goals besides his own safety. “No — I meant…”

Ra’s’ fingers found his hair and carded through it absentmindedly. Tim couldn’t think straight when he did that — not when thinking was already so hard for his alcohol-saturated brain as it was.

He shoved off of Ra’s’ shoulder and propped himself up against the stone doorway. The effect was a sensation like falling off a two-story building and Tim pressed his shoulders harder against the stones at his back as the world around him twisted and lurched.

He squeezed his eyes shut and waved a hand vaguely around him, indicating the compound itself. “No, where are we in Tibet?”

There was silence from the older man across from him. When he felt well enough to open his eyes again he found Ra’s staring unrelentingly at him, his eyes a dangerous mixture of hunger and suspicion.

He wasn’t nearly as drunk as Tim was at the moment. Not after spending the night drinking Arak — his favorite liquor and one that was almost as ancient and unchanging as he was. He’d had many centuries worth of lives to develop a tolerance for it.

It felt like Ra’s was weighing his options in his mind, considering which answer he would give him. Finally, he pushed the door open, letting it swing until it bounced against the wall.

He inclined his head, a smile playing on his lips. “Why don’t you come inside and I’ll tell you?”  

Tim peered into the room. It looked innocent enough but he knew looks could be deceiving. “Is this your way of saying you want to make a trade?”

They hadn’t done that since that first night after Ra’s’ had pulled him from his dungeon cell. He had certainly made offers in the days since then, but Tim had been steadfast in refusing him.

Ra’s chuckled again and reached for Tim’s elbow, pulling him close. “I’m saying, I’ve been very patient up until this point, but now it’s very clear that I want you and you want answers. Why don’t we go inside by the fire and see if we can come to an arrangement that leaves us both satisfied?”

Despite his better judgment, Tim stepped with him over the threshold.

“Last night?” Tim’s Adam's apple bobbed against the light cage of Ra’s’ fingers around his throat. Standing there in the garden he tried to recall his scattered memories after the door had closed behind them.  

It was hard to remember, or maybe it was more that Tim didn’t really want to remember. To his sluggish brain, it felt like he was watching a film on a malfunctioning projector from behind his own eyes. He found himself trying to piece together the sights and sounds of disconnected scenes but the plot as a whole was lost to him.

They’d shared another glass of Arak between them, himself so drunk he didn’t even remember how he made it onto the floor. Ra’s had lit a fire — Tim remembered the heat on his skin and the scratchy, not entirely pleasant, feeling of the carpet under him as Ra’s unbuttoned his pants and tugged them down his legs.

Had they negotiated this? He couldn’t remember saying yes and it seemed much more likely that if Tim had had a say in how they went forward, Ra’s would be the one shedding his clothes, not Tim.  

Ra’s was saying something to him but it sounded far away. He might have dozed without meaning to. The stretch and burn of fingers buried in him startled him back to consciousness and pulled an embarrassing keen out of him before he could stop himself. He arched off the floor like a body resurrected, feeling the sweat soaking into the baby hairs at the back of his neck.

“Wait,” he gasped. He swore a spark from the fireplace must have caught on the carpet, he could feel the fire’s heat radiating around him, threatening to burn him up. But there was nothing there when he tilted his head to check.

He could feel the drag of Ra’s’ fingers as they pulled out and pushed in again.“S-Stop—”

His legs were bent, feet planted firmly on the carpet. Ra’s’ head was buried between his legs, his teeth fastened tight on Tim’s left thigh. He could feel the sharp puncture of them as the muscles in his legs trembled and gave out.

“You don’t want me to stop,” Ra’s declared. He pulled away only to start up again on his other thigh.

It hurt more this time. Tim’s dick—  which only a moment ago had laid throbbing on his belly, pearlescent at the slit — wilted at the harsh treatment. He reached between his legs and grabbed for Ra’s’ hair —  flattened his thighs to the floor in an attempt to get away but there was nowhere to go.

As if to prove his own body’s responses wrong, Ra’s crooked his fingers inside of him and Tim swore, head banging painfully against the carpet as heat surged through him once again. He curled his fingers tightly in Ra’s’ hair and couldn’t stop the way his hips spasmed, torn between pulling away from his teeth and pressed harder onto his fingers. Ra’s’ was right… a part of him liked this. Liked it a lot. And it was quickly drowning out the part of him that objected to how he got that pleasurable feeling as long as it just kept coming.

He might have come soon after that with Ra’s’ mouth on him but he had no actual memory of it. In fact, he didn’t even remember Ra’s’ answer to his question until he woke up later that night, still on the floor but wrapped in a sheet pulled from Ra’s’ bed.

The Tanggula Mountains near Nagqu prefecture.

The fire was low in the hearth in front of him but it held enough light to see the cum smeared across his belly and the dark pattern of bruises on his inner thighs as he pulled his body out from underneath Ra’s’ slumbering form.

Panicked laughter threatened to burst past his lips. It looked like Ra’s had tried to draw him a map with his teeth.

Get it together, he snapped at himself and went to retrieve his clothing from around the room in quick fashion. He pulled them on quietly, more than happy to hide the signs of his shameful pleasure under layers of clothing.

It wasn’t until he’d slipped into his own room minutes later and yanked the bolt securely across the door that he allowed himself to feel anything.

I just went to bed with Ra’s al Ghul. No, he wanted to amend that because there was never really a doubt that he was going to have to have sex with Ra’s eventually.

It was either choose the when, where, and how it happened or have it forced on him. It had seemed that simple to him at first, but tonight was a stark example of how complex it could actually be. Yes, he’d known what he was getting into when he stepped into that room, but the unpredictable element was Ra’s himself who pressed and maneuvered him like a plaything. Drunk as he was he could do nothing but lay there and ride through the waves of pleasure and pain.

He ran a shaky hand through his tangled hair. That can never happen again.  

The only question remaining was how was he going to stop it?

Now, here he was a day later and already tangled in Ra’s’ arms again, achingly contorted for his pleasure, and no closer to a solution.

Ra’s’ breath was hot where it ghosted his ear. “I don’t intend to let you run back to your room so quickly tonight. If I were you, I’d have at least three questions at the ready.”

The thought of that alone made him quake and he could feel the smile that Ra’s pressed to his trembling neck.

[go-go-devil]

If You Have Ghosts: The Story of a Song

This is an informative/personal essay I wrote about the history of Roky Erickson’s well-beloved song, “If You Have Ghosts.” Honestly I should have written & posted this on the 1-year anniversary of his death back in May, but I completely forgot. This piece is mostly a study of Erickson’s original and the band Ghost’s famous cover of it, alongside some other things. I would also appreciate some feedback on this if you all don’t mind.

The information I used as a reference when describing the making of the original song comes entirely from Joe Nick Patoski’s writing on Roky Erickson’s career and the making of The Evil One (included as a booklet in recent vinyl additions of said album).

Throughout our lives there will be songs that capture us in ways that we cannot escape from. Oftentimes it’s as simple as an infectious melody that we refuse to discard from our memories, either due to it becoming attached to a pivotal part of our lives or because we cannot dislodge it no matter how hard we try. Other times it can be something that attracts us so much that we begin to covet it to the point of obsession, and it is through this attitude that the song transforms from merely a piece of music into a piece of ourselves.

“If You Have Ghosts” is one of these songs for me.

What can I say about this wonderful track that hasn’t already been said? It is fierce, yet subdued. It is both hard rocking joy incarnate and a solemn reflection of one’s self, and it says so much by saying so little. The reason for all of these seemingly contradictory phrases I’m using is because this song, unlike many others, is a shared entity that exists in multiple forms. Quite an odd way of stating that the song has been played by more than one band, but hopefully this essay will demonstrate how the meaning of the original piece can mutate into different forms while still keeping its essence intact.

There’s no better place to start than with the original, recorded in 1977 and released in 1981 by rock n’ roll legend Roky Erickson.

Originally recorded as part of a four-song demo of what would later become his first solo record, The Evil One, “If You Have Ghosts” contains many of the themes Erickson presents in his music as a whole. Those of which being: horror-themed esoteric lyrics, high-energy playing, soaring guitar riffs, and a general sense of raw, psychedelic power.

In less than 15 seconds the song has already built itself up and blasted into your eardrums, but never does the melody ever resort to sounding like a wall of noise. Each instrument weaves its sound around each other like some tripped-out embroidery design in order to create a rich tapestry in the listener’s mind. The lyrics are as catchy and repetitive as any of Roky’s songs, yet for this one he sounds less like he’s singing but instead simply proclaiming each line like it’s a definitive statement.

“If you have ghosts, you have everything”

“One never does that”

“The moon to the left of me is a part of my thoughts and a part of me is me”

“In the night, I am real”

“I don’t want my fangs too long”

Barring a few other scattershot words present in the chorus, what you’ve read above is all that you get for what this piece is trying to say. Unlike most of the other songs from the album, whose lyrics clearly convey the story/theme presented, this one does not have a lucid form to it and thus its meaning can only truly be grasped through interpretation. Personally, I always saw it as a proud declaration of one’s deviance from society, with the rip-roaring instruments serving to show how this person’s mind finally feels free enough to run wild in the night, with only the moonlight and their own invisible spirits to guild them.

But of course, all forms of speculation can never undermine Roky’s own intent when crafting this song, which, unfortunately, is not nearly as liberating as my previous presumption…

“If You Have Ghosts” as we know it is a direct product of Erickson’s mental illness. There really is no way of sugarcoating it. After being diagnosed with schizophrenia in 68’, Roky was sent to various state hospitals in 69’, where he was subjected to multiple electroshock treatments by doctors alongside being heavily sedating with Thorazine. Even after he was discharged in ’72 he never fully recovered from the abusive “therapies” he was given, resulting in decades of battling intense mood swings and heavy drug reliance as well as making it difficult for him to record many of his songs in studio.

Roky was under one of these spells whist recording the vocals for this song. He was only able to sing the chorus once, and after recording was no longer able to remember any of the lyrics. Out of all the tracks, Producer Stu Cook had to put the most effort into inserting the vocals into this song using a complex progress called wild-syncing to place multiple takes of audio alongside the instruments without using synchronization. It’s honestly a miracle that we even have this song fully formed in the first place given the circumstances of its creation.

Despite all of the hardship and effort put into creating this piece, for a long while there didn’t seem to be as much appreciation for it compared to Erickson’s other work. Partially because it was not present on certain releases of the album back in the day as well as the fact that Roky seemed to rarely play it live in concert (even on YouTube, recordings of these performances are scarce). As much as I love this version of the song, even I’m willing to admit that if I were ever forced to rank each song on The Evil One, I would probably place it somewhere in the middle. What can I say? When you make an album that great, the competition can be fierce!

For many obscure classics, the story would end there. Yet another buried treasure forever existing in the mind of one musician. But that’s not what happened, for several decades later a new band from Sweden will emerge, different in form but identical in spirit to Roky’s sound, whose frontman will breathe new life into a once forgotten masterpiece…

…Or at least that’s what I would lead into were it not for the existence of this version.

Interestingly, the first notable cover of “If You Have Ghosts” was not done by Ghost but instead by an English folk-rock group called John Wesley Harding & The Good Liars on the 1990 album Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye: A Tribute to Roky Erickson. This now-obscure album consisted of a compilation of various bands and artists covering the songs of, you guessed it, Roky Erickson. There was actually a great deal of artists present on this record, including several well-known musicians such as ZZ Top, R.E.M., and The Jesus and Mary Chain (and even Butthole Surfers too!).

I’ll be the first to admit that I am not at all familiar with John Wesley Harding or his backing band; however, I will say that this piece is a worthy follow-up to the original in it’s own right. It slows down the song to a level not unlike the many psychedelic songs that followed in 13th Floor Elevator’s wake, keeping the main melody in tack while filling in the gaps with many little flourishes as a means of expanding it into something new. I’m especially fond of the echoing effect given to the vocals, which gives the already obscure nature of the lyrics a more outwardly ethereal quality.

Anyway, on to what you’ve been waiting for!

After enduring another two decades of invisibility from the public eye, the song was once again exhumed and resurrected by an emerging metal band named Ghost for their 2013 EP If You Have Ghost. Considering Roky Erickson’s wide array of demon-inspired songs, it’s interesting how Linköping’s residential Satanic metal group chose this piece as opposed to more well-beloved hits like “Night Of The Vampire” or “Stand For The Fire Demon,” many of which work perfectly with the band’s themes of evoking retro horror films and devil worship. It almost seems like they just chose “If You Have Ghosts” solely on the basis of it having the word “Ghost” in it. However, just one listen to this cover will quickly prove otherwise.

Right off the bat, the instruments and vocals are a far cry from the original. Unlike the previous J.W.H. cover that made sure to keep the main melody in tack while adding onto it, Ghost instead chose the more daring option of altering the melody and tempo of the piece significantly. From the ominous drawing of violin and cello strings in the opening seconds to the melancholic metal sound of the guitars throughout (with the rhythm guitar being played by none other than Dave Grohl, who also produced the EP), this version slows the once fast-pace beat of the song down until it becomes almost unrecognizable save for the lyrics. Even Tobias Forge’s singing creates significant contrast with the original; his silky smooth, haunting baritone guiding a melody once held by Roky’s hard-edged yells.

And yet… the spirit still remains.

Although the sound itself has been thoroughly converted to the stylings of Ghost, they still managed to keep the fierce energy that ran through the veins of Erickson’s version, albeit with a twist.

Both songs convey a contemplative examination of one’s mind, with instrumentals and singing that amplify the power one feels from this reflection. However, Ghost’s version differs in that it amplifies the sense of isolation and longing present in the lyrics. The music notably softens at the beginning of many of the verses, particularly lines like “One never does that” or “I don’t want my fangs too long,” only to grow in power through the repetition of each line. It conveys the feeling of the singer having to grapple with these feelings before they can fully accept them.

Nowhere is this more apparent than the band’s acoustic cover of the song.

At this point, the piece has been stripped down to an entirely naked form, its themes conveyed only through the guitars of two nameless ghouls alongside Forge’s vocals (presented here in his previous stage persona, Papa Emeritus III). There is no triumphant shouting or swelling electric guitar solos here anymore, just a somber reflection gently carried by melodic strumming and mournful singing. Despite now being as far from a rockin’ tune as humanly possible, it actually manages to come closest in recapturing the sense of rawness in the original, albeit on the exact opposite scale.

I remember watching a recorded acoustic performance in Paris back in 2015 where Papa introduced “If You Have Ghosts” as being a song about “loneliness,” which is an interpretation I can definitely agree with. In fact, I would even say that with this acoustic cover brings the entire meaning of the song full-circle. Through its peeled-back, unflinching depiction of being enclosed in darkness and isolation, it serves as a perfect end-note for a song that began from such troubled origins by telling the listener that, despite all the hardships, this beautiful piece of music will never lose its everlasting spirit.

Thanks for giving us everything, Roky.

[hellzyeahwebwielingessays]

Did Norman’s resurrection undermine death in comics?

Let’s provide a little context. In 1973 Gerry Conway and Gil Kane killed off Norman Osborn in ASM #122. The issue concluded the 2-part ‘Death of Gwen Stacy’ storyline, often debated as the greatest Spider-Man story of all time. The story left little ambiguity as to Norman’s fate as he was impaled upon his own rocket-propelled glider.

As if to hammer the point home, in ASM #123 we saw Norman’s body en route to the morgue.

However, in 1996 the conclusion to the infamous ‘Clone Saga’ storyline revealed Norman to be alive and well. To make it clear that this wasn’t anything other than the bona fide article Norman was depicted with the chest scars left behind by his glider.

The decision was, and to an extent still is, divisive within the Spider-Fandom.

One of the most ardent critiques of the decision was that it undermined the weight of death within the comic book genre.

This is both true and untrue.

It’s true in a sense because every time a character comes back to life it undermines the meaning of death in comics.

But detractors hold Norman’s return in particular contempt. On this point though the above statement doesn’t hold up to scrutiny.

Were we to confine things strictly to the Spider-Man titles there had already several characters who’d seemingly died and returned.*

One could argue that functionally  Gwen Stacy herself had returned from the dead in the original ‘Clone Saga’ from 1975 via cloning. Even if you do not agree there are other examples to be found.

The original Vulture was presumed dead in ASM #48 only to return in issue #63.

Mysterio was also presumed dead back in ASM #141, reappearing in disguise in ASM #193.

In ASM #131 Doctor Octopus and Hammerhead were both killed off in a nuclear explosion!

Yet they both came back between ASM #156-159.

Both Miles Warren and Spider-Man’s clone (later known as Ben Reilly) were believed to have been killed in ASM #149 circa 1975. However, Ben’s survival was confirmed in Web of Spider-Man #117 from 1994 and the Jackal’s in ASM #399 from 1995.

Mendel Stromm died in literally his first appearance way back in 1966 (ASM #37) but his return was confirmed in ASM #418 alongside Norman’s. In fact both characters had technically returned prior to that but their identities had been concealed.

Were we to look beyond the Spider books we’d have no end of examples of deaths and returns in comics by 1996. Heck, in 1992 cartoon ‘Batman the Animated Series’ the Joker often seemingly died only to pop back up with no explanation.

So Norman’s return was far from a new phenomenon within the Spider-Man universe, let alone the wider super hero genre. It was just perceived as such due to the iconic nature of the story he’d died in.

But even then it’s not really a fair point to hinge a critique upon.

Superman himself, the first and most famous of all superheroes, had died in 1993 and returned later that very same year. The story, justifiably or not, had become an instant classic, received tons of media coverage and was entirely promoted upon the fact that Superman was going to die.

Jean Grey had perished in 1980 at the conclusion of the ‘Dark Phoenix Saga’, often regarded as the  most iconic X-Men story of all time. The ultimate resolution of the story revolved  around Jean’s death.

This went on to be unquestionably the most impactful in death in X-Men history yet she returned in 1986.

Unlike Superman or Jean’s death’s, Norman’s demise was never the crux upon which the story hung. That was always Gwen’s  demise considering it was you know…the literal name of the storyline…

Call me crazy but I do not think brining back the Green Goblin after he died in a story called the ‘Death o Gwen Stacy’ really undermines the power of death in the Spider-Man universe.

*For the sake of argument, let’s dismiss examples like Spidey’s own apparent death in ‘Kraven’s Last Hunt’ or intentional fake outs. We are talking about the times when a character was intended to be dead but consequent stories back-peddled on that.

[dailytafsirofquran]

TEFSIR ibn KATHIR: Surah Qiyamah Ayah 26-40

In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful

26 Nay, when it reaches to the collarbones.

27 And it will be said: "Who can cure him''

28 And he will think that it was the parting;

29 And one shank will be joined with another shank.

30 The drive will be on that Day to your Lord!

31 So, he neither believed nor prayed!

32 But on the contrary, he denied and turned away!

33 Then he walked in conceit to his family admiring himself!

34 Woe to you! And then woe to you!

35. Again, woe to you! And then woe to you!

36 Does man think that he will be left neglected

37 Was he not a Nutfah of semen emitted

38 Then he became an `Alaqah; then shaped and fashioned in due proportion.

39 And made of him two sexes, male and female.

40 Is it not so then, that He would be able to give life to the dead

Certainty will Occur at the Time of Death. Allah Informs of the Condition at the Time of Death and What Terrors it Contains.

May Allah make us firm at that time with the Firm Statement.

Allah says, Nay, when it reaches to the collarbones.

If we make the word "Kalla'' negative, then this Ayah means,

`O son of Adam! You are not able to deny that which I informed you of at that time (death). This will become something witnessed by you with your own eyes.'

If we consider the word "Kalla'' to be a word of affirmation, then this would be the most obvious meaning. In this case it would mean that it is certainly true when the soul reaches the collarbones -meaning, `your soul will be pulled out of your body and it will reach your collarbones.'

This is similar to Allah's statement,

Then why do you not (intervene) when (the soul of the dying person) reaches the throat And you at the moment are looking on, but We are nearer to him than you, but you see not, then why do you not if you are exempt from the reckoning and recompense, bring back the soul, if your are truthful? (56:83-87)

Thus, Allah similarly says here, Nay, when it reaches to the collarbones. And it will be said: "Who can cure him Ikrimah reported from Ibn `Abbas that he said, "Meaning, who is the person who recites divine prayers of healing so that he may come and cure him''

Abu Qilabah made a similar statement when he said, (And it will be said: "Who can cure him)

"This means who is the doctor that can cure him''

Qatadah, Ad-Dahhak and Ibn Zayd all have similar statements.

And Allah say,

And he will think that it was the parting; Ali bin Abi Talhah reported from Ibn `Abbas that he said concerning the Ayah,

And one shank will be joined with another shank.

"This is the last day of the days of this world and the first day of the days of the Hereafter. So there will be hardships that will meet (more) hardships, except for he whom Allah has mercy upon.''

Ikrimah said,

And one shank will be joined with another shank.

"The great matter (will be joined) with the great matter.''

Mujahid said, "A test (will be joined) with a test.''

Al-Hasan Al-Basri said concerning Allah's statement, (And one shank will be joined with another shank).

"These are your two shins when they are bound together.''

In another narration from him (Al-Hasan) he said, "His two legs have died and they will not carry him while he used to walk around on them.''

Concerning Allah's statement,

The drive will be on that Day to your Lord!

meaning, the place of return and the destination.

This is that the soul ascends into the heavens and Allah says,

"Return my servant to the earth, for verily, I have created them from it, I return them into it, and from it I will bring them out at another time.''

This has been reported in the lengthy Hadith of Al-Bara'.

Verily, Allah says, He is the Irresistible (Supreme), over His servants, and He sends guardians over you, until when death approaches one of you, Our messengers take his soul, and they never neglect their duty.

Then they are returned to Allah, their True Master. Surely, for Him is the judgement and He is the swiftest in taking account. (6:61, 62)

Mentioning the Case of the Denier

Allah says,

So, he neither believed nor prayed! But on the contrary, he denied and turned away!

This is to inform about the disbeliever who used to deny the truth in his heart in the abode of this worldly life, and he used to turn away from acting according to its way. Thus, there is no good in him, internally or externally.

Therefore, Allah says,

So he neither believed nor prayed! But on the contrary, he denied and turned away!

Then he walked in conceit (full pride) to his family admiring himself! meaning, stubborn, cruel, obstinate, wanton, lazy, having no concern and doing no deeds.

This is similar to Allah's statement,

And when they returned to their own people, they would return jesting. (83:31)

Allah also says,

Verily, he was among his people in joy! Verily, he thought that he would never come back (to Us)! (84:13,14) meaning, return.

Yes! Verily, his Lord has been ever beholding him! (84:15)

Ad-Dahhak reported from Ibn `Abbas that he said, (Then he walked in conceit to his family admiring himself!)

"This means arrogantly''

Qatadah and Zayd bin Aslam both said, "Strutting.''

Allah then says,

Again, woe to you! And then woe to you!

This is a definite warning and threat from Allah to those who disbelieve in Him and strut about when walking.

This means, `you deserve to strut like this while you have disbelieved in your Creator and Maker.'

This is what is commonly said in this type of situation in order to mock and intimidate (someone).

This is as Allah says,

Taste you (this)! Verily you were (pretending to be) the mighty, the generous! (44:49)

Similarly, Allah says,

Eat and enjoy yourselves for a little. Verily, you are criminals. (77:46)

Allah also says,

So worship what you like besides Him. (39:15)

And like Allah's statement,

Do what you will. (41:40)

There are other examples of this as well.

Abu `Abdur-Rahman An-Nasa'i recorded from Sa`id bin Jubayr that he said,

"I mentioned to Ibn `Abbas, (Woe to you! And then woe to you! Again, woe to you! And then woe to you!) He (Ibn`Abbas) replied, `The Messenger of Allah said this to Abu Jahl, then Allah, the Mighty and Sublime, revealed this Ayah.'''

Ibn Abi Hatim recorded from Qatadah that he said concerning Allah's statement, (Woe to you! And then woe to you! Again, woe to you! And then woe to you!)

"It is a threat followed by a threat, just as you hear it. They claim that the Prophet of Allah grabbed the clothes of the enemy of Allah, Abu Jahl. The Prophet then said to him, `Woe to you! And then (again) woe to you! Again woe to you! And then (again) woe to you!' At this the enemy of Allah, Abu Jahl, said, `Are you threatening me, O Muhammad By Allah! Neither you nor your Lord are able to do anything, and verily, I am the mightiest person walking between its (Makkah's) two mountains.'''

Man will not be left Neglected

Allah says,

Does man think that he will be left neglected As-Suddi said, "Meaning not resurrected.''

Mujahid, Ash-Shafi`i and `Abdur-Rahman bin Zayd bin Aslam, all said,

"Meaning, he will not be commanded and prohibited.''

Apparently the Ayah includes both meanings.

- This means that he will not be left neglected in this worldly life, without being commanded and prohibited.

- He also will not be left neglected in his grave unattended to without being resurrected.

Rather he will be commanded and prohibited in this life, and gathered back to Allah in the abode of the Hereafter.

The intent here is to affirm the existence of the abode of the final return and to refute whoever rejects it from the people of deviance, ignorance and stubbornness. Thus, Allah uses the beginning of creation as a proof for the repetition of the creation in His saying, Was he not a Nutfah of semen emitted?

meaning, was not man a weak drop of sperm from a despised fluid known as semen, that is emitted from the loins into the wombs

Then he became an `Alaqah; then shaped and fashioned in due proportion.

meaning, he became a clot, then a lump of flesh, then he was formed and the soul was blown into him. Then he became a perfect creation with healthy limbs, as either a male or a female by the permission and decree of Allah.

Thus, Allah says,

And made of him two sexes, male and female.

Then Allah says,

Is it not so then, that He would be able to give life to the dead?

meaning, is not He Who made this perfect creation from this weak drop of sperm able to repeat that as He did originally?

And "the ability to repeat that'' either refers to the origination only, or to both that and the process of perfecting it, according to two different views, as in Allah's saying;

And He it is Who originates the creation, then He will repeat it; this is easier for Him. (30:27)

The first view is more popular, and Allah knows the best.

Supplication upon Completing this Surah

Abu Dawud recorded from Musa bin Abi A'ishah that he said,

"A man used to pray on top of his house and whenever he recited, (Is it not so then, that He would be able to give life to the dead) he would say, `Glory to You, of course.'

So the people asked him about that and he said, `I heard it from the Messenger of Allah .'''

Abu Dawud was alone in transmitting this Hadith and he did not mention who this Companion was, but there is no harm in that.

This is the end of the Tafsir of Surah Al-Qiyamah, all praise and thanks are due to Allah.

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 35 Review: In Which Matt Calls Out Jean Paul

{ Not available on YouTube }

{ Synopses: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

{ Screencaps }

Welcome back to Maljardin, the beautiful tropical “paradise” that is, in reality, a deadly prison for the guests of Jean Paul Desmond and his demonic lookalike ancestor Jacques Eloi des Mondes. Tensions mount as more and more characters realize that the island’s multimillionaire owner god refuses to let them escape and pushes for a séance in order to contact his late wife. One, Reverend Matthew Dawson, ex-minister and current stalker of one Holly Marshall, has reached the breaking point and now dares challenge Jean Paul.

Now, I know that I briefly compared and contrasted Matt with Reverend Trask (specifically, the second Reverend Trask) from Dark Shadows in my Episode 10 review last year. There are a handful of similarities--including both running boarding schools of questionable ethics (which I forgot to list in that review)--but they remain characters with fundamentally different personalities at their cores. In spite of this, Matt does share one of the favorite hobbies of the men of the Trask family: YELLING in an exaggerated Mid-Atlantic accent in long and emotional speeches! That’s what happens for a good portion of the episode, and I can’t deny that I find this sort of soap opera shouting match highly entertaining.

We open with Jean Paul descending the Great Hall’s staircase while wearing the Blue Suit of Sexiness, which he will continue to wear for the next few episodes. He sees Matt staring at the portrait of THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES and asks him if he’s “mesmerized by” him. (How could anyone not be, I wonder, before reminding myself that Matt is straight.)

“It seems everyone is, or at least the evil Raxl fears he’s spreading,” is the Reverend’s response.

“And you?”

“There is evil here, Mr. Desmond, but I don't believe in devils. I attribute it more realistically to a live, active human being.”

And then they exchange pissy faces to dramatic music.

I’ve noted before that I didn’t expect a minister like Matt (especially one who believes in other supernatural phenomena) to admit that he doesn’t believe in devils. Still, even if he did, that’s no guarantee that he would make a distinction between Jean Paul and Jacques or think anything of his sudden switches of personality beyond grief and/or mental illness.

The first shot of the glass-top table set up for the séance. Kind of odd that Jean Paul just happens to have a table with astrological symbols on it just lying around.

Just then, Raxl and Quito enter, and the former announces to Jean Paul, “It is foretold that the Conjure Woman one day will find death on Maljardin!” Jean Paul ignores this and tells Vangie (who also conveniently just entered) that she must hold the séance and he must speak to Erica.

Some Jean Paul crazy eyes. Shades of Gérard “Crazy Eyes” Berner, discussed in this entry.

“Master! In the Temple of the Serpent, the Conjure Woman was told that this séance must not take place! The spirits have spoken!” Raxl protests, but he ignores her. Remember, this is a man who announced three episodes ago that he is willing even to perform blood sacrifices to get his Erica back. He is crazy in love--literally. His obsession with Erica makes Matt’s decision to quit his ministry to stalk Holly seem sane.

“On Maljardin, only I speak!” Jean Paul declares, eyes wide and burning like the blue flames on a gas stove. He uses his “on this island, I am God” tone of voice, but sadly Jacques isn’t cheering him on this time. Speaking of Jacques, he immediately storms over to the portrait and shouts, “I must have contact with my darling!” as though he thinks that Jacques will willingly provide that. Oh, Jean Paul, my sweet summer child, if only you knew that he has no intention of resurrecting your dear, sweet Erica.

Alison arrives just in time to overhear him tell Matt that, as an “undesirable element that would ensure its failure,” he shouldn’t take part in the séance. He starts to ask Alison to join him, but then decides he would rather make a passive-aggressive comment about how Matt probably doesn’t believe in souls (WTF?), which triggers the following argument:

Jean Paul: "And the theologian, not because he believes in the soul, but because..."   Matt: "Because he is tolerant, Mr. Desmond!" Jean Paul: "Tolerant of what? My madness, perhaps?" Matt: "I did not say that!" Jean Paul: "Are you prepared to face the dead?"

He tries to get Vangie to let him choose who will participate in the séance, but she refuses because she understands spiritualist matters better than he does. (Also, she can teleport to and from Maljardin, so it’s not like she’s trapped on the island like the other guests. This means that she can stand up to Jean Paul without the risk of him imprisoning her.)

Raxl brings up the missing notes about Erica. Alison demands to know how she knows about them, and she claims that she knows because of how often she and Dan discussed them. Raxl accuses Alison of trying to hide the notes in the cove (but why would she store them so far from the lab?). Matt has a point when he says the following line:

I am accused of pushing Holly Marshall down the stairs, Dan Forrest is accused of tampering with the cryonics capsule, Mrs. Marshall is accused of trying to kill her own daughter, and you are accused of concealing Dr. Menkin’s notes that might bring Erica Desmond to life again!...Now, a séance. Who knows what new accusations we will hear and against whom, and I wonder who will make them?

Raxl, Vangie, and Quito visit the temple to pray for the protection of everyone during the séance. This is probably the point where Tarasca would have appeared and vanished for the first time in the original draft, but we may never know for sure. Meanwhile, Jean Paul brags both to Jacques’ portrait and to my hysterical laughter that he is now in full control of himself. Sure, Jan Jean.

I really like this shot of Jean Paul with his arms outstretched in front of Jacques' portrait. Taken out of context, it looks like he’s trying to hug Jacques. "Caressing" evil, indeed.

Matt approaches the stairway to the crypt, but Jean Paul stops him. Matt then remembers that he threatened to kill anyone who trespassed into the crypt, which shocks Alison. “Does it upset you that I want to protect your sister’s return?” he asks her, and this triggers a second, much longer argument between Jean Paul and Matt. As usual with long conversations on this show, I will only include the highlights and summarize the rest.

It starts out with Matt repeating that everyone on Maljardin is Jean Paul’s prisoner. He accuses him of making them all suspect each other as a deliberate act of divide-and-conquer. I think that, in order for that to be true, it would require Jean Paul to be both omniscient and omnipotent, neither of which he is. (Even his hidden camera system only covers certain rooms.) Matt also accuses Raxl and Vangie of “seeking guidance for further accusations,” whatever the hell that means.

“Do you fear to face your judgment day?” Jean Paul asks him, which momentarily shuts him up. He stares at Jean Paul, stunned at the thinly-veiled threat.

Meanwhile in the temple, Raxl and Vangie decide who should and shouldn’t attend the séance. In short, neither Holly nor Dan should attend, but Quito should.

When Raxl asks if Jean Paul should attend, Vangie faints onto the temple floor!

When Matt recovers, he makes a whole list of over-the-top accusations against Jean Paul: "Hear me! Be a little god on your insane Island, manipulate our lives, play games with our reason! Be both judge and jailer! Yes, raise the dead, walk on water! That will be next. Crucify yourself, but remember, you, too, will be judged!"

Matt trying to look intimidating.

Jean Paul (thinking): “Please. When I said I was God on this island, I didn’t mean it in that way.”

You know, Jean Paul’s behavior this week reminds me of someone--and no, I’m not referring to whom you probably think I’m going to. I’m thinking instead of Jerry Layton, the show’s co-creator, producer, and “so-called production expert” who apparently shared some notable personality traits with early Jean Paul. According to the show’s floor director, Bob Wilson:

To be honest with you I always thought, and I’m not the only one who thought this, that the Jean Paul Desmond character was really Jerry Layton.  Oh yes.  He was mad.  He was crazy.  He would rant and rave about the simplest thing.  And we would all stand around and wait until he did his little thing.  And it was almost like an actor taking his lines and just running amok with them.  I recall that--it was very easy to be intimidated by this character.   I remember [technical producer André “Andy” Moujean] and I coming away from that dinner and saying to each other--What are we getting ourselves into?[1]

According to StrangeParadise.net, Layton insisted on running the show on next to no budget, which earned him the nickname “Mickey Mouse” among the production team. There’s a hilarious photo on there of Colin Fox with a Mickey Mouse pin pinned on one of Jean Paul’s dressing gowns and a mischievous smile on his face. There’s also this one in the website’s archive of the wall where John Pashley, one of the cameramen, wrote the comment “While my prose will not compare with Proust, thank f.....g Christ for Mickey Mouse.”[2] Notable examples of Layton’s mismanagement of the show include the lack of air conditioning in the studio while filming in August (as noted in this quote on Fox’s IMDb page) and the grueling schedule for the cast and crew, which Wilson also mentioned in his interview:

We all put in horrendous hours, not only in the production, but in getting the thing together.  ...  There were an awful lot of people who stayed [in Chelsea, at Crawley studios] overnight.  I was not one of them, but I can remember the sound guys staying overnight, trying to meet deadlines, with their effects.  I can remember the lighting guys staying overnight, trying to get the right look on a particular scene. [...] The bus would deliver, say, 25 people, and at night, maybe 17 would go back, because the other people were staying overnight to try to make deadlines.[3]

Despite these similarities, however, I doubt that Jean Paul is based on Jerry Layton. First, there is no evidence that Ian Martin actually ever visited the set, despite his position as headwriter. In fact, according to Wilson, he never did:

SRS: I was curious whether you ever met Ian Martin--he was the guy who wrote the first seven or eight weeks.

BW: I did not. To the best of my knowledge, I don’t believe--which is an unbelievable statement to make, but I’m pretty sure I’m right in saying this--I do not believe that any of the writers ever attended a production meeting, when we were at the studio. Now if Ian Martin was there, it would have been fleetingly, and he was the initial writer. The reason I’m even bringing this up is it was the bane of the actors’ existence that this didn’t happen. Many times they would say, “How can this guy continue writing [the show]--he hasn’t even been here to see, to get the feel of the set, of the ambience...”

SRS: He was writing it, but you were taping at that point well in advance of the broadcast--I see on this plan [of the set, which BW had] here, there’s a date--”August 11, ’69, programs number 2 and 3”--I’m taking from this that the original production of the actual show began in August of ’69. I don’t believe it began running on Canadian television until October of ’69.

BW: That would be correct.

SRS: So Mr. Martin is happily writing his scripts, but he’s not viewing any of the episodes... So he’s just spinning it off in his little room.

BW: Which was a sin, because we could feel the way it should have gone, we could feel where it could go--we weren’t writers, and when I say “we” I include cast and crew, because we were a family, we were very much a family.  ... Had any one of the writers, Ian Martin or any one of the writers after that come out and even just spent some time, it would have paid so many dividends. As I say, I stand to be corrected, but to the best of my knowledge, that never took place.[4]

Second, such megalomaniacal types tend not to have a sense of humor regarding their own shortcomings. If Layton had even suspected that Jean Paul was supposed to represent him (assuming that he behaved as Wilson claims he did), I think that he would have insisted on changing his characterization earlier on. Most likely, Jean Paul’s characterization derives from the archetype of the Byronic lord of the manor, an extremely popular character trope in Gothic literature. Examples include Mr. Rochester from Jane Eyre, Nicholas van Ryn from Dragonwyck, and (eventually) Richard Morgan from Martin’s 1979 novel Shadow Over Seventh Heaven. Despite this, I have to wonder if, when the actors were rehearsing this script, they were thinking of Mickey Mouse and his own so-called production expertise and putting their feelings about him into it.

Some delicious Raxl scenery-chewing in the Not-So-Hidden Temple after Vangie faints. “It is the prophecy,” she recalls in reference to Vangie’s prediction that she will die on Maljardin. “MUST IT BE NOW?”

Returning to our recap, Alison tries to shut Matt up because “Jean Paul is under a strain,” but he won’t have it. He proceeds to criticize Jean Paul to his face, and one has to wonder if some of these lines reminded Dan MacDonald of Mickey Mouse:

Why is it that no one’s feelings are to be considered, only his? There is no one, it seems, in all the world that has ever suffered except Jean Paul Desmond! No one has ever lost a loved one, only Jean Paul Desmond and his unique sorrow for his beloved Erica!

Colin Fox doing some literal backacting.

Jean Paul getting pissy.

We wondered whether we had seen him change into another man, one man one moment, another man the next! Now we are seeing the real man…A man who ignores the suffering of others, who is indifferent to the pain he inflicts upon them, who is willing to imprison them for all their lives for the sake of an impossible experiment in bringing back the dead, in getting what he wants because he suffers, because he is willing to punish the whole world in order to get what he wants out of blind selfishness masquerading as strength, this selfish thing! So great is his love of himself, which he calls love for his dear Erica!

 For the most part, he’s right about Jean Paul, save for the part about him being indifferent to others’ suffering. He’s indifferent to the detained guests’ wishes to escape the island, yes, but not to Alison’s mourning of her sister or Holly’s of her father. He just doesn’t want the tabloid press to find out about the cryonics situation and spread scandalous rumors (or, perhaps, a scandalous truth) about him and Erica. Matt thinks that the whole cryonics experiment is just as blasphemous and ridiculous as Jean Paul’s insistence that he is God on his island.

Jean Paul’s anger is so intense that it’s starting to mess up his shellacked hairdo.

Now it’s Jean Paul’s turn to fling accusations at him: "I did not pursue a young girl in the name of God and good works. I did not beset and harass a mere child out of a sick desire. And I did not strike the girl unseen and secretly fling her down the stairs because she knew, knew what you were!" A reminder: Holly is almost twenty-one, and yet Jean Paul refers to her as not just a child, but a young one. The way the characters keep talking about Holly like she’s seventeen is just baffling. Like I’ve said before, Matt’s attraction to Holly is already creepy enough without those kinds of implications, simply because of the former captor/former captive power dynamics involved.

Just after Jean Paul says that he is responsible for everyone on the island, Quito arrives, carrying Vangie. “Your responsibilities grow,” Matt tells him. “Now you have the soul [line flub for “blood?”] of Evangeline Abbott on your hands.” However, it turns out he spoke too soon, for Vangie soon recovers, albeit with a vision of death!

“Jean Paul, I saw death!” she says upon recovering. “The death I saw was not my own ending. A figure--it wasn’t clear.” And then she points to Jacques’ portrait and shouts, “That man! The Devil!”

This leads Alison to beg Jean Paul to cancel the séance. Jean Paul is surprised that "now the scientist believes in the devil." Jean Paul, being extremely stubborn, insists again on going through with the séance. But what unholy death and destruction will this séance wreak on Maljardin?

Jean Paul sitting down at the séance table during the credits.

Coming up next: The séance and a return to the YouTube episodes. (Am I the only one who’s been missing the ridiculous automatic captions? I hope not.) Shortly after that, the next part of my review of Shadow Over Seventh Heaven, which I would have posted before this one, but I was so much farther along with this one that I decided to post it first.

{<- Previous: Episode 34   ||   Next: Episode 36 ->}

Notes

[1] Bob Wilson, interview with S. R. Shutt, Ottawa, October 15, 2002. Wilson is also the one who called Layton the “so-called production expert,” which reminds me of David Benioff, the “so-called production expert” behind Game of Thrones whose mismanagement of that series is well-documented on the YouTube channel The Dragon Demands. In a sense, Benioff and Weiss wrote it like a soap opera, changing characterizations and “subverting expectations” at will with random plot twists--which is fine until you remember that they were running a high-budget adaptation of an unfinished book series.

[2] Another funny photo of the wall can be found here, On this one, someone dubbed the show “Canada’s own all-American T.V. series!” and used the Mark of Death (from a future storyline--not saying any more about it until later) as an unofficial logo.

[3] Wilson.

[4] Ibid.

[thetourguidebarbie]

S4 AU WHERE KC NEEDS TO BE STUCK IN A SAFE HOUSE TOGETHER BECAUSE OF REASONS PLEAAASE!!!

Thank you to @honestgrins for cheerleading. I will be forever grateful. I hope you like it Luiza!!! Smutty. D/s. Etc. Originally for canon-ish day of au week but I had midterms so I’m sorry this is late. There’s an incest mention in this. Nothing super substantive or related to the actual story, but here are the bookends if you want to scroll past.

Begins at: “Everything?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m sure there’s some stuff you haven’t done.”

Ends at: “Forget I asked,” Caroline interrupted, squeezing her eyes shut. “Ugh. Okay, um…Never have I ever done BDSM stuff.”

————

“This is the safehouse?” Caroline demanded, dropping her suitcase on the faded persian rug in the living room of the cabin.

Yes, the cabin.

Like, as in in a forest.

It was even made of wood, probably.

“Yes, love,” Klaus said, locking the door behind them with a click. She immediately felt the prickle of magic against her skin as the barrier took hold. “Protected with the best magic murder can buy.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose as she took in the room around her. Everything seemed old, but largely in good condition. She had a feeling that Klaus hadn’t had a hand in designing it, since it didn’t even slightly resemble an old-timey cigar lounge. He sunk down on the couch, crossing his legs and setting his boots on the antique-looking coffee table, his eyes fixed on her intently as she took in her surroundings.

“So is the TV in another room, or something?” she asked, walking to peek through one of the two non-outside exits from the room into what looked like a small kitchen. She desperately hoped there was more to the space than she was seeing. The cabin had looked tiny from the outside, but maybe it was magic’d to be bigger on the inside like in Harry Potter, or something.

“No television, unfortunately.”

“What?”

“Can’t risk blowing the fuse, love. We need it to keep the icebox going. Blood spoils.”

“Is there at least somewhere to charge my phone?”

“Phones need to remain off, sweetheart. How difficult do you think it would be to compel your way into one of your privacy-violating apps and find your exact location?”

“Seriously?”

“Indeed.”

“But that means there’s nothing to do,” Caroline complained, sitting on the couch and glaring at the bookshelf, the only entertainment source she could identify as of now, in front of her. “How am I supposed to live like this?”

“I did for over 900 years,” Klaus pointed out, his patience clearly beginning to run out. “At least you’re alive, sweetheart.”

“Honestly, I think I might rather take my chances with Bonnie having to resurrect me than have to go glamping with you.”

“I’m wounded.”

“Is there at least running water?”

“That there is, courtesy of magic,” he reassured her. “We’ll have to share it of course, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”

She grimaced, already knowing that her only-child-ness and the temptation to avoid Klaus was likely not conducive to short showers.

“Okay, where’s my bedroom? Please tell me I at least get my own bed.”

“Of course. Unless you change your mind,” he teased, his cheeks dimpling at the withering glare she shot him.

“I’m good. Thanks.”

“Just through there, then,” he said, pointing to the other door.

She left without another word, the small hallway leading to two tiny cramped rooms separated by a bathroom that she could barely move her elbows in, both taken up almost entirely by double beds and an end table. She chose the one with the less ugly duvet and dropped her luggage on top of it.

Ugh. Hopefully Klaus’s witchy friend would come through soon. She had a prom to plan.

————

“How long are we going to be here?”

“Until I take care of the problem.”

“So I’m just stuck locked in a shed in the woods and can’t like, go anywhere or do anything? Or buy entertainment? Or use the internet?”

He chose to ignore her assessment of their accommodations. “Well, the icebox is rather small, so I’ll need to leave to get blood bags every now and again. If you’d like something from town, you need only ask.”

“I can’t come?”

“It wouldn’t be safe, love.”

“Are you saying I wouldn’t be safe with you?” Caroline asked, her barb clearly hitting the mark when his face darkened.

“If I thought all I needed to do to ensure your safety was to keep you by my side, we wouldn’t be here.“

"I thought you were the most powerful being on earth,” she pointed out, not bothering to keep her tone kind.

He didn’t meet her eyes, and she saw the barest movement in his body as he tensed, the twitch of his jaw putting her on edge. “I’m beginning to think that might not be the case.”

It was an admission that she hadn’t expected. Klaus had always seemed to have an endless well of egotism to draw from, had never seemed at all insecure in his power, but everything from the tone of his voice to the way that his eyes kept darting towards the door told her that Klaus was more scared than she’d realized. That put her even further on edge.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not important, love.”

“Um, since you basically kidnapped me and locked me in a shed I’d say that I have a right to know.”

From the look he shot her she had a very good feeling that he was resisting the urge to say that it didn’t matter whether she thought she had the right to know anything, but he wisely refrained from making that particular point. “I’ll tell you when I have more information,” he said finally, a concession that she was pretty sure he hadn’t initially intended to make.

“You can’t just give me the information you have?”

“Silas is a warlock. A very old one,” Klaus said slowly. “Old enough that I was convinced he was a legend.”

“You mean there’s something you didn’t know?” she asked in mock incredulity. “I thought you were friends with all the historians.”

“I thought you said that I didn’t have friends,” he shot back, his eyebrow raised.

“Well, you haven’t been able to prove you have one.”

He didn’t have an answer to that, likely because he knew that mansplaining logical fallacies to her would just get him made fun of, and he retreated back to the subject at hand. “He’s immortal. Truly immortal. After some research I’ve concluded that my mother used a version of the immortality spell he used to create the vampirism ritual.”

“So he’s a vampire?”

“Not exactly,” Klaus said slowly. “Quite honestly I’m not sure to what extent his powers resemble vampirism or vice versa, but I do know that there are elements that are almost certainly shared. Feeding off blood, for example. Likely some sort of power to induce hallucination, similar to the way that we can enter dreams or the thoughts of those who aren’t expecting it.”

“You didn’t even bother to learn about the legend? Aren’t all legends based on truth?”

His lips twitched. “In the interest of honesty, love, I must admit that because I’d never heard of it until I was a few centuries old, I originally assumed that the legend of Silas was based off of me.”

“That’s so arrogant it’s almost funny.”

“It was to my detriment, obviously,” he admitted. “In any case, I’m unsure as to the full extent of his abilities, and that means that he’s dangerous. Too dangerous to risk exposure to him.”

“Exposing me? I didn’t do anything. What’s he going to do, kidnap me to ask me where the cure I hadn’t heard of until two days ago is?”

“No, not you. Me.”

“Then what do I have to do with anything?” she asked impatiently, doing her best to smush down the part of her that was shouting that it knew the answer.

“You know very well what you have to do with this, Caroline,” Klaus said, his tone deceptively light. “If you were put in danger it could easily draw me out.”

She let the confession hang uncomfortably in the air, not quite knowing what to say, how to acknowledge the truth that she hadn’t wanted to accept that he’d set out so plainly. 

“Whatever,” she said finally. “But we need to figure it out fast. I can’t let Patrice takeover prom committee. She thinks that green and brown would be a good color scheme. She calls it ‘forest chic’ but it is not.”

Klaus made a face at that, which was honestly just the kind of vindication she needed. He had like eighty bajillion years of party planning experience, right? He knew a terrible aesthetic choice when he heard one.

“I’ll do my best, love. Anything else or am I free to go?”

“No further questions,” she said dryly.

————

“I’m pretty sure I’ve read every book by now.” Caroline complained.

They’d been in the cabin for about a month, and Klaus had both somehow grown on her and was also deeply irritating, mostly because he was growing on her. He wasn’t exactly open with her, but he wasn’t as irritating as usual. Their cohabitation was actually going peacefully, other than his apparent short supply of shirts, something she had only brought up once and promptly swore to herself to never do it again after Klaus had somehow gotten her to admit it was distracting. She had been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to infuriate her so much that she wanted to stalk off and risk being kidnapped by witches, but he’d been on his best behavior.

Unfortunately for her, it turned out that Klaus’s best behavior was pretty freaking attractive.

Even more unfortunately, her new-found (fine, newly acknowledged; she could be real with herself inside her own head) attraction for him wasn’t distracting enough to mitigate the fact that she was bored out of her mind.

“I’ll pick up more in town tomorrow,” Klaus promised.

“How will you know what I like, though?”

“Make a list, I suppose.”

“How am I supposed to make a list of things I don’t know exist? Bookstores are for browsing, Klaus.”

“I’ll do my best to make selections to your preferences.”

“Do you even know what I like?” she asked, pausing for dramatic effect before continuing. “Oh wait, I guess you must since you’re a legit stalker who kidnapped me from my home to take me to a remote cabin and wait to be murdered.”

“You make me sound so diabolical.”

“Ugh. You’re impossible.”

“What do you want, Caroline?” he asked, sounding more tired than she’d heard him in awhile. “Believe me when I say that I do want to make this as painless as possible for you. There is no benefit to me to make you hate me more when you know quite well I’d like the opposite.”

“I don’t hate you,” Caroline said, smiling slightly at the look of surprise on Klaus’s face. “What? Didn’t you know that?”

“I didn’t expect you to admit it,” he said, giving her a dimpled grin that screamed smirky jerk. 

It annoyed her enough to make her clarify. “Look, it doesn’t mean much. I’m not exactly a fan of your strategies for keeping me safe, or how you’ve treated my friends, or like…your personality in general.”

“I thought I’d grown on you.”

“I mean, slowly. You’re not exactly easy to get to know.”

He seemed to consider her point for a moment before nodding. “I’ll see what I can find for you, all right?”

————

Klaus had underestimated the amount of books she could read in one day, but he’d luckily also brought home ten bottles of hard liquor, pointing out to her when she saw her face that he’d need to drink at least two full bottles within an hour to actually get past tipsy, and if she wanted to get to know him, what better way than a casual drink?

This quickly turned into her introducing him to the most classic get-to-know-you drinking game she knew.

“Never have I ever eaten a baby,” Caroline joked, slurring slightly.

Klaus snorted, making no move to take the shot. “To my knowledge, only Kol has ever gotten close.”

“Gross. Your turn.”

Klaus sighed. He’d clearly been having difficulty coming up with things he’d never done that it was possible she had. She was already drunk off his never having Instagram and his complete lack of pop culture knowledge (‘never have I ever been able to name all of the Kordashan siblings’ ‘they’re called Kardashians’). They’d agreed to ban any historical figures (‘never have I ever had a one-night stand with a princess’) and school-related questions (‘never have I ever failed a math test’), but anything else was fair game.

“Never have I ever…” he began slowly, swirling the shot glass in his hand. “…had sex with a werewolf.“

"Sex life is off the table,” Caroline declared, pausing after she processed what he’d said. “What, you haven’t?”

“Werewolves and vampires aren’t exactly friendly, and there aren’t all that many wolves in the first place. I kept track of the packs, of course, but I wasn’t about to risk getting bitten before I broke the hybrid curse. It wouldn’t kill me, of course, but I would have had to live with it until it healed. Even as an Original it’s not exactly a speedy process. Kol managed to get himself bitten once and took over six months.”

“That makes sense.”

“Drink though, love.”

“We just said sex life was off the table!” Caroline argued, and Klaus raised an eyebrow. 

“We didn’t say anything. You declared it, and you declared it after I’d already used my turn. Drink.”

“Ugh fine,” she said before knocking a shot back.

“If I may offer some strategic advice however, love–”

“Ugh of course you want to offer strategic advice.”

“It may be best for you to keep the category open.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “Are you saying I want to hear about your sexcapades?”

“I’m saying that it’s likely I’ve done almost anything you can think of, and that it’s likely that you haven’t.”

“Are you calling me a prude?” Caroline asked, not sure why she was bristling but still feeling a bit slighted.

“Not at all. You’re simply young,” Klaus said mildly. “You haven’t had the time I had, not that the quarterback or the Lockwood boy seemed all that creative.”

Caroline almost wanted to debate that point–she and Tyler had done one or two things that involved very extensive internet research using an incognito window and ordering sex stuff on amazon using a dummy account to the Lockwood mansion while his mom was in New York to see the new revival of Mamma Mia–but those memories were hers and she didn’t want Klaus to poison them.

Or like, tempt her to do them again, but with him.

And probably better.

“Your advice is duly noted,” she said, trying to keep from slurring her words. “I’ll take it into consideration.”

“All too happy to assist, love.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” she muttered, reaching for the tequila bottle to fill her shot glass again. “Never have I ever…been to France.”

“I’ll take you,” he teased, bringing her back to that moment at the ball when he’d tried to tempt her. “When this is all over. I’ll take you anywhere.”

“We’ve been over this. You’re not taking me on any vacations after this other than back to my house.”

“I’d be honored to take you back to your place, love.”

“Gross!” she whined, trying to cover up the way that the suggestion made her mind wander. “Stop!”

“As the lady wishes. Now, never have I ever played monopoly.”

Caroline knocked the shot back. “Not only have I played monopoly, but I specialize in winning monopoly.”

“Of course you do,” he drawled. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a keen strategist, love.”

“And my dad and I had a rule that if I could steal from the bank without him noticing then I got to keep the money.”

“That’s just good business, sweetheart.”

“I was also ten and got tantrumy when I didn’t win, but sure.”

“Somehow I’m not at all surprised by that.”

She glared at him. “Never have I ever…” she trailed off, out of ideas. Klaus raised a challenging eyebrow. She swallowed, bracing herself for what would probably give her too many uncomfortably enticing thoughts later that night. “Never have I ever eaten someone out.”

Klaus’s lips curled and he easily threw back the shot, placing the glass down. “Always time to try.”

“I’m surprised you’re advocating having sex with someone else since you’re such a jealous weirdo even when we’re not dating.”

“There’s magic for everything.”

She wasn’t sure if he was joking. She kind of didn’t want him to be. Was that weird? 

“Your turn,” she said quickly.

“Never have I ever eaten a frozen meal.”

“I have never been less surprised by anything. Those aren’t super classy. Stouffer’s mac n cheese is great when you’re hungover though. Um…Never have I ever used restraints during sex.”

He drank. She wished she’d been more specific. Did he tie someone up or let someone else do the tying? Why was her brain imagining both of those scenarios? Why did she like the idea of Klaus tying her up? 

“Never have I ever had a hangover,” he offered, and Caroline groaned, taking another shot.

“They’re the worst. Umm…Never have I ever had a threesome.”

He drank. 

“Never have I ever ridden a roller coaster.”

“Not even once?” Caroline asked after she’d downed the shot.

“No. I have more enjoyable things I could be doing.”

“Like the laundry list of sexcapades you’re trying to get me to guess?”

“That’s one category, yes. I’ve done almost everything, love. It’s a good strategy.”

“Everything?” she asked, eyebrows raised. “I’m sure there’s some stuff you haven’t done.”

“Almost everything you could imagine.”

“Yeah, okay. Never have I ever had sex with my sibling,” Caroline teased, her jaw dropping when Klaus took the shot without missing a beat. “Seriously?”

“We got bored.”

“Who got bored? Which one did you have sex with?”

“You used your turn, love. Never have I ever texted while driving.”

Caroline had downed the shot before he finished speaking, anxious to have her questions answered. “Never have I ever fucked my sister.”

Klaus rolled his eyes, taking the shot.

“Ew!" 

"Rather closed-minded of you, love.”

“She’s your sister. She’s also Rebekah, and therefore the least pleasant person in existence. Both things that should put her off limits.”

“I’ve fucked many unpleasant people. My sister doesn’t rank even close to the top of my list. We’re also a thousand years old with vampiric sex drives,” he said calmly, apparently not at all embarrassed. She wished she could give that few fucks about what taboos people caught her out committing. And also that she could stop imagining it. Imagining her also in that situation. With both of them. 

He was right, Rebekah was not obnoxious enough to not be hot, unfortunately.

“Never have I ever had a job.”

“Seriously? Never? Not even in viking times or whatever?”

“I had, I suppose you’d call them chores, but I didn’t have a job in the sense that they exist now.”

“What did you call them?”

“Sendifer”

“Bless you? Was that a sneeze?”

His lips twitched. “My native language.”

“Native language?”

“You can’t possibly have thought we spoke English?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“I guess I never thought about it. How many languages do you speak?”

“Counting languages not in use today?” he asked, clearly already doing a mental calculation.

“Sure.”

“I can manage fairly well in at least fifty or so. I’m likely only fluent in ten or eleven, including my native tongue.”

“That’s a lot.”

He smiled slightly. “We had to learn to adapt.”

“Did you and Rebekah dirty talk each other with your native tongue?” Caroline drawled, the lack of filter from alcohol making her bolder.

Klaus chuckled. “If I said I did other things with–”

“Forget I asked,” Caroline interrupted, squeezing her eyes shut. “Ugh. Okay, um…Never have I ever done BDSM stuff.”

“That’s quite a broad category, love.”

“So that means you’ll drink, right?”

“Not interested as to what aspects?”

Caroline swallowed, her curiosity dueling with her complete certainty that if he told her anything, her traitor brain wouldn’t be able to forget, or to stop itself from imagining what it could be like for him to do those things to her. It only took her a brief moment to make up her mind, the alcohol making her bold, and she shrugged. “Fine. Never have I ever spanked someone during sex.”

He held her gaze as he poured his drink, his irises flashing gold for just a moment before he sipped it much too slowly, his tongue darting over his lips when he’d finished it. Her breath caught at the intensity of it, how he seemed to be cataloguing every little hint of her reaction. She was certain, in that moment, that he was imagining what it would be like to do it to her. It excited her more than it should have, and she tried to rub her thighs together as subtly as possible to soothe the ache. “Your turn,” she breathed, a bit embarrassed by how completely obvious she was being.

She barely registered whatever Klaus said, something about Netflix, and she drank despite not knowing what she was admitting, too distracted by the fantasies already spinning themselves much too easily.

“Never have I ever made someone call me Master during sex.”

He drank.

She was practically bursting with questions now, and she knew he could tell, that he was enjoying that she wanted to know more of what he’d done. An irrational tug of jealousy made itself known in her gut, something about Klaus having done these things with other people unsettling her. It was unfair, since he had to have done it to be able to talk about it, but her fingers twitched with the urge to touch, to claim, to run her tongue along his skin and hear the low rumble in his throat that she’d spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining he’d make if she ever gave in to what they both wanted.

“Ugh, I should stop drinking,” Caroline said, pushing the bottle away with the five others they’d gone through. “This is getting way too into TMI territory.”

“You do know that I’d answer these even if I weren’t drinking, don’t you love?”

“I don’t know if I could ask them sober,” she admitted before she could stop herself. 

He chuckled, making her bristle. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not, love. But out of curiosity, why wouldn’t you?”

“Because then I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it. You. What you…what we…” she trailed off, shaking her head determinedly to make herself stop talking. “This is why I shouldn’t drink with you. I’ve already said more than I wanted to.”

“Would it be so bad?” he asked. “To give in? To let yourself have a moment of freedom?”

“What, like a what happens in the cabin stays in the cabin type deal?” she asked, unsure if she should even be considering this.

“If you like,” he said, giving her a nod. “I’ve gotten rather good at keeping secrets over the years, you know. I’d never betray your confidence.”

“How do I know?”

“I give you my word.”

“Full offense, but at this point that doesn’t mean much,” Caroline said, regretting the words at the way his expression tightened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

“You did,” he said quietly, the words slow. “And I must admit I haven’t exactly done much to inspire confidence.”

“How hard was that to admit?”

His lips twitched. “To be honest with you, love? Much easier than it typically comes to me.”

He sounded so genuine. It was annoying. She took a deep breath. “You’d promise not to tell?”

He paused for a moment, and she thought he was reconsidering for a moment before he spoke. “You should sleep, sweetheart. I want you to be sure, for your peace of mind. And for mine.”

“Sure that I want to ask questions?”

“Sure that any decisions you make will be entirely your own.”

She took a sharp breath, knowing what decision he was implying she could make. Knowing she probably would if he kept looking at her like that. “Yeah. Good. I mean, sounds good.”

“See you in the morning, love,” he said, hesitating for a moment before pressing a light kiss to her cheek and gathering up the bottles to throw them out, turning away.

“I…good night.”

————

She hadn’t gotten much sleep. Though vampires technically didn’t need any, blood was a valuable commodity, and wasting it just so that they didn’t have to rest seemed unwise. She’d spent the entire night tossing and turning, letting her hands wander beneath the waistband of her shorts and then retreating just as quickly, worried that Klaus would hear, worried that she wanted Klaus to hear.

She’d given in around two in the morning after listening intently for Klaus’s breathing to slow, kicking off her shorts and letting her fingers circle her clit. She let herself get lost in visions of Klaus bending over her, demanding she beg as he fucked her much too slowly, staining her skin with fast-fading red marks when she moaned his name instead of his title. She teased herself, imagining her fingers curled against her walls were his, that he had bid her to hold still and scolding her when she shook against the touch, biting back her moans. Her breathing was ragged when she finally allowed herself release after dragging it out for as long as she dared in case Klaus woke, her imagined order of “come for me, sweetheart” tipping her over the edge.

She made sure to shower before she made her way to the kitchen in the morning, nervous that he’d catch the scent of her arousal, but from the knowing look he shot her, the curve of his lips, she had a feeling he knew anyway. She didn’t mind as much as she thought she would, which was honestly the scariest and yet most exhilarating part. 

“From all the free dirty kindle books I think I’m a sub, just so you know.” She’d waited until he’d taken a sip of blood-laced coffee, mostly to indulge her own enjoyment of watching the look on his face as the (second?) most powerful creature on earth attempted to hold back his cough when the liquid went down the wrong pipe. It was deeply satisfying. 

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart.”

“Good morning! But does that work, or do you prefer subbing? I won’t judge. Plus toxic masculinity is gross and people like what they like.”

“I prefer the dominant role, yes,” he said, looking more amused than anything else now that he’d recovered from his coughing fit. “No offense taken. I’ve tried it.”

“Not a fan?”

He did a surprisingly un-Klaus like grimace, and she wondered if he picked it up from her. “Not at all, no.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

He didn’t question why. “Does that mean you’ve made a decision?”

“I mean, I have more questions first, if that’s okay.”

“Always.”

She peppered him with questions. What kinds of things did he like to do? What were his usual rules for his subs? What punishments did he like to use when they broke them? Did he do that thing in all the books where he makes his subs sit a certain way? What title did he like? Why do people call it playing? Did he make it a requirement to be playing 24/7? 

On and on.

He was patient, answering her questions thoroughly and seemingly honestly. A lot of them were “it depends” followed by examples, and she resisted the urge to ask him more specific things about what he liked to stop him from saying all the words like that. It was just unfair, honestly. She found herself tempted as he painted a picture of what it could be like, his stories more like offers, the way he raked his eyes up and down her body when she rubbed her thighs together and bit her lip a sure indication that he was aware that she was seriously considering it, that he was imagining all the things he’d do to her if she agreed.

“I think I want to,” she admitted finally, her fingers curling around the handle of her mug, the coffee having long gone cold. “Try, I mean.”

“Do you know what sorts of things you’d like to try? Did the, ah…dirty kindle books give you any ideas?”

“I think I probably don’t know a lot of the options,” she admitted. “Being tied up seems fine? I don’t know.”

“What do you think about when you touch yourself?” he asked, as though admitting her fantasies was as easy as breathing. She flushed at his knowing glance, at the way his low tone made her breath catch.

“Getting told what to do, I guess? Being rough with me.”

A predatory smile spread across his face that made her all too aware of how her spine was pressed against the counter, giving her no room to move. It was a surge of adrenaline, the feeling of being hunted even if she’d expected it, wanted it. She let him move closer, let him take the mug out of her hands and set it on the counter before his palms settled on her hips. He glanced at her for a moment, reading her expression, checking for confirmation, and she nodded. He lifted her easily onto the counter, gently pressing her thighs apart, smirking when he saw the damp spot on the cotton of her shorts. “Tell me more, sweetheart.”

She took a deep breath, almost shaking with anticipation as he reached to fiddle with the drawstrings of her shorts, pulling the knots at the ends between his fingers, his knuckles brushing against her bare thigh just below the scalloped hem. She desperately wanted him closer, for his fingers to brush against her already wet center, but she tried to concentrate on what he asked her. They weren’t in play yet, hadn’t even really talked about any real ground rules, but she already didn’t want to disappoint him, wanted the rush of pleasing him. 

“You talk to me,” she offered, feeling her face heat when he smirked, his eyebrows raising.

“I talk to you?”

“You knew I was thinking about you sometimes” she said, trying to sound matter of fact even though she was kind of mortified. “You’re not an idiot.”

“Only sometimes?”

She swallowed. “A lot,” she said, her voice soft. “Probably too much.”

“No such thing,” he murmured, moving forward to gently press his lips against hers, moving his hand to find her clit through the fabric and press down lightly. She moaned into his mouth, her hands moving to rest on his shoulders. She’d imagined what it would be like to kiss Klaus probably hundreds of times, but this was…better. He took his time coaxing her lips to part for him, his tongue sweeping against the seam of them and then sucking her bottom lip lightly, giving a satisfied hum when her hips jerked against his fingers, swallowing her gasp. She felt the lightest brush of fang, not enough to break skin but enough to send a jolt through her that she’d never felt with anyone else. 

Enough to make her want him more. 

“Do you know how long I’ve dreamt of this, Caroline?” he whispered against her lips, the light brushes against her mouth making her shiver. “I stroke my cock imagining the sounds I’ll coax from your pretty lips, how I’ll make you shake for me. I’ve spent far too much time considering what a pretty picture you’d be spread for me on my sheets, your hair tangled in my fingers, just begging to be tugged. I want to tempt you into giving into your filthiest desires, to give yourself to me so that I can grant your every wish. I’ll give it all to you, Caroline. Anything you ask.”

She tipped her head back as he began to press light kisses down her jawline. “Tell me now, love. What do you think about? What do you want?" 

"I…”

“What did you think about last night?” he asked, and she could hear the smugness in his voice. It would have made her want to smack him if his fingers between her legs didn’t feel so fucking good. “I heard your breathing, the rustle of the sheets. What’s on your mind, love?”

“I imagined you behind me,” she began, her voice shaky, almost embarrassed to say the words out loud. “You were pulling my hair and making me beg for you. Teasing me.”

“Begging me for my cock?”

“Yes.”

“Where, Caroline? What was I doing? Was I filling your pussy? Stretching you? Making you ask for me to fuck you faster? Harder?” his voice was a low growl, heavy with lust. She felt his hand leave its place at her center and moaned at the loss of friction, squirming to try and make him go back. He chuckled, sliding his palm beneath her ass and pinching the flesh of it lightly, making her gasp. “Or perhaps I was taking your pretty arse with my cock. Making you beg for me to make you truly submit. Did you ask for me to pull your hair and show you who owns you, Caroline? Do you like being made to admit that you’re mine?”

She knew she was blushing brightly, her breathing labored at the picture he was painting in her mind. She hadn’t considered the possibility somehow, that being claimed like that might turn her on, but she was growing more wet from it, somehow found herself needing it. 

“The first one,” she admitted. “And sometimes I’d call you by your name instead of by your title just to make you spank me.”

“What was I in this fantasy, Caroline?”

“What do you mean?”

“What did you call me?”

She inhaled sharply as he squeezed her ass, the bite of his nails making her hips jerk. “Master,” she whispered, the word foreign on her tongue and yet somehow comfortable. Natural. She heard the rumble low in his throat that she’d somehow always known he’d make, the pleased hum of a satisfied predator that had won.

“And you like to be spanked?”

She found herself wanting to push him, to see how far he’d go, whether he’d be as possessive as she’d imagined, as she’d secretly wanted.

“Tyler did spank me once or twice and I liked that. He liked me on my hands and knees before the moon.”

Klaus’s returning snarl made her smile. “Jealous?” she asked, trying not to sound too smug.

The answering rip of fabric exposing her skin making her squeak in surprise. She gasped as Klaus found her wet core, the tips of his fingers dipping into it to make her squirm. “Look at me, Caroline.”

She obeyed, her lips slightly parted, needing him to touch her but unsure how to put it into words without sounding desperate. 

“Beg,” he whispered, the command also a clear warning. Klaus apparently didn’t care if she was desperate, probably wanted her to be, wanted her to crave him the way he’d clearly wanted her. He wanted to know that she wouldn’t be thinking of anyone else.

“Please.”

“You can do better,” he murmured, the implied order making her shiver. Her craving for his approval and his touch warred with the instinct to not give an inch, the worry that she’d embarrass herself. “And address me correctly.”

“Please touch me, Master.”

“More,” he demanded, though he rewarded her with a brush of his thumb against her clit, coaxing out a moan. “Tell me what you want. Perhaps I’ll be kind enough to indulge you.”

“Master, I…please make me come. Please. I need you to touch me.”

“How do you want me to touch you, Caroline? Do you want to my fingers or my cock?”

She swallowed, knowing which she’d prefer, but the word seemed so filthy to say out loud. She bit her lip. “Your fingers, Master.”

“I don’t like it when you lie to me, love.”

She flushed. “Sorry, Master.”

“Say it, sweetheart.”

She rolled her hips, hoping for him to at least let her have another touch, but he withdrew, an eyebrow raised. “I want your cock, Master,” she said finally. “Please.”

“Good,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to her neck. “And where do you want it?”

“Inside of me.”

She knew she’d been too vague the moment she’d said it and Klaus pulled away, his lips twisted in a wicked smirk. Her reluctance to use words that made her blush was clearly something she’d have to get over.

“Get on your knees, then,” he said, his hands already going for his belt. 

She let her knees hit the tile floor, arching her back to stretch before settling on her elbows, her legs spread. She heard Klaus chuckle behind her, and she looked over her shoulder in confusion, about to ask what was so funny, and her lips parted when she saw him already nude, stroking his cock in his hand, his thumb brushing over the tip of it. She felt her core ache, her walls fluttering in anticipation, needing that feeling of fullness, but he grabbed the nearby kitchen chair and settled into it. “On your knees here,” he corrected, pointing at the tile floor in front of him. “I want to watch you suck my cock. That fulfills your request, doesn’t it? For you to take me in your mouth?”

Technically, she supposed it did. She knew better than to argue anyway. “Yes, Master.”

“Good. Come here. Crawl.”

She was pretty sure that her skin tone had been increasingly approaching tomato-level red, but she was growing too turned on to care, feeling the embarrassment fade as she let herself give in. She crawled the few feet towards him, settling between his legs and keeping her gaze on his as she leant forward. His hand buried in her hair, keeping her in place. “What do you say when I’m kind enough to give you what you so sweetly begged for, love?”

“Thank you, Master.”

“For?”

“Thank you for letting me suck your cock, Master,” she amended, the words becoming easier to say every time she saw Klaus’s eyes darken with lust when he watched her. “May I begin, please?” she added impulsively, drawing on said free kindle books for inspiration, hoping it was the right thing to say. Klaus’s returning dimpled grin told her that it was.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his grip on her hair loosening to allow her to bend forward. She was finding that she liked getting praise from him, that it was immensely satisfying to know that she was doing well, that she was saying the right things. That he wanted her as she was. She wanted more.

She parted her lips, letting her tongue flick against the tip of him, savoring his low groan before wrapping her lips around him, taking as much as she could and hollowing her cheeks as she bobbed up and down his length. She kept her eyes down–Tyler had liked that she had clearly submitted so she assumed Klaus would too–and she felt a light tug on her hair. “Look at me," 

She let her eyes flick up to meet his, found herself almost hypnotized by his gaze in a way that felt entirely different from compulsion. The heady rush of how he was watching her, as though he’d found nothing more mesmerizing in his life than her lips around his cock, was difficult to tear herself away from. So she didn’t. She kept going slowly, teasing him with her tongue and teeth, experimenting to see what he liked. She could feel her pussy ache when he told her how much he loved watching her on her knees for him with her lips around his cock, rubbed her thighs together to relieve the friction there when he told her he could smell it, that he could tell how much she loved being his to command, how much she loved submitting. She reached to use her hands to stroke him where her mouth couldn’t reach when he ordered her to, the sharp tone making her ache. 

He was getting close, she could tell, his lips parting, eyes growing hazy. He bucked against her mouth when she dragged her teeth down his shaft at the same time as she stroked his sac, making her gag loudly. He seemed to like it. She wanted him to come, to watch the original hybrid become putty in her hands. She slowly ran her nail down the patch of skin underneath him that she’d read on the internet once would make most men fall apart.

The internet, as it turned out, was not wrong in this particular case.

She swallowed, pulling away slowly, resisting the urge to lick her lips or wipe her face with the back of her hand, something telling her that Klaus wanted to see her like this. His breathing was heavy, his body relaxed. She practically preened when he reached to stroke her cheek. "I think I like seeing my release cling to your skin, love. Perhaps next time I’ll come on your breasts. Make you leave it there for hours as a reminder of how you were willing to beg for my touch.”

She gasped when he reached to wipe it away with his thumb, holding it in front of her lips as an invitation. Perhaps a command. She ran her tongue slowly along the pad of it to lick it clean, holding his gaze, satisfied at his low groan. She found herself straddling him on the chair a moment later, pressed against his body and fighting to keep herself from grinding her wet core against his hand, the heel of his palm so close to her clit that if she shifted just a bit he might give her the friction she needed. She had a feeling he wouldn’t take kindly to that, though, perhaps even cruelly leave her just on the edge, and she really wanted to come.

“Thank you, Master,” she said again, hoping that remembering that he’d framed it a reward for her would get him to give her what she actually wanted, and he chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. 

“Do you want to come, Caroline?”

“Yes, please.”

He let one of his hands stroke her spine as he pressed two fingers inside of her, curling them against her walls and beginning to move them slowly, adding a third after she’d adjusted enough. She was vaguely aware that she was begging out loud, barely stopped herself from saying his name more than once, and she heard him murmur pretty words about how delicious he was sure she’d taste, how perhaps next time he’d let her come on his tongue instead and wouldn’t she like that?

“Yes, Master.”

He pressed his thumb to her clit, watching her tip over the edge with an expression that might have been closer to affection than lust. She wondered whether she should be concerned by that, by the fact she’d already admitted deep down that this wasn’t just about sex. 

No, Klaus had lured her in with promises of his touch and his attentions, but that wasn’t really the hook that pulled her towards him. He would entice her by bringing her fantasies to life and making her body crave him. He’d make sure to ruin her for everyone else. But she knew that even if she hadn’t given in, even if she’d remained in denial, he would have inevitably won over her heart just as he did her body. She knew his games, was completely aware that he had an ulterior motive for this, that he likely already knew how close she was to admitting out loud that she wouldn’t mind being his that much. Or at all. 

Klaus generally got what he wanted, stopped at nothing to achieve his goals and obsessed over his projects with an intensity that even she, a certified goal-setter, found vaguely terrifying. 

And she’d never been more sure of anything in her life than that Klaus Mikaelson wanted her, at least for now. 

All she had to decide was whether, or more accurately when, she’d truly give herself to him.

[saiilorstars]

The Girl in the Forest

Chapter 4: The Curse

// Story Masterlist //

Pairings: Klaus Mikaelson x Original Female Character

Summary: Maleny learns (or relearns) a few most important events in her original body, the ones that led to a closer relationship with Klaus.

Pronunciation of OC: Ma-leh-nee

No real warnings for now!

Requested tag: @queenmj10​

Hayley walked down the corridors of the compound holding the sheets of sketches Davina had made. She had the intention of looking at the them a little more since she couldn't leave the stupid place. She stopped however at the sound of cursing in one of the guest rooms, and so she decided to go see what was wrong. She was a bit surprised to find Maleny pacing back and forth in the room she'd originally been left with after the warehouse. Hayley would've figured Maleny left a long time ago seeing neither Klaus nor Rebekah was around.

"Hey, are you alright?" Hayley decided to ask but judging by the look Maleny wore she could guess things were certainly not alright.

"I suppose," was Maleny's response in the end after she'd stopped her pacing. She noticed Hayley's large sheets of papers and grew curious, "What are you up to?"

"Hm?" Hayley blinked as Maleny gestured to the sheets she held, "Oh, these are some drawings Davina did..."

"Are you going to frame them...?"

Hayley caught the confused tone thrown at her and smiled, "No, I'm going to study them," Maleny raised an eyebrow at the answer, "It's a long story but I'll cut straight to the chase: Davina drew one of Elijah's old loves and I'm going to look more into it."

Maleny looked around as she thought and ended up smiling, "That sounds exciting."

Hayley laughed lightly, "Oh it is," she entered the room and accidentally dropped a couple of the sheets.

When she tried bending down for it, Maleny shooed her to stop and went ahead to pick them up herself, "It's alright," she gathered the sheets.

"Thanks, but I'm not entirely useless you know," Hayley looked down at the brunette woman, "and I would appreciate if at least one person living here would treat me fairly."

"Oh I don't live here," Maleny scoffed, "and I'm not going to let a pregnant woman do stuff that can harm her baby," she stood up and shuffled through the papers, noticing some of the details, "Oh wow, these are pretty..."

'Weird? Yeah, I know," Hayley nodded, "I've been looking at them all day and I can't put those together."

"I wonder why those," Maleny pointed at the sheets Hayley held, "are far larger than these," she gestured to the ones she held.

"I think there was something different with those," Hayley eyed the sheets Maleny held, "Something about magic being owned..." she shrugged, "...I'm not sure."

Maleny studied the sketches she held then looked up at the brunette in front of her, "Do you mind if I help you?"

"Sure, I mean, if you want to spend your day looking at papers," Hayley gave a small smile.

"Well since a certain murderous hybrid compelled me to stay in this room," Maleny gestured to the place, "Really, you'd be doing me a favor by keeping me occupied."

Hayley blinked with a slight surprise, "Wow, now we're both on lockdown?"

"Well that bastard has been gone for an entire day," Maleny rolled her eyes, "I think he forgot I'm still in here."

Hayley shrugged and walked over to a table where she spread her sheets out, "It's his wicked way of showing he cares."

"Yeah but it's understandable," Maleny walked towards her, "You're carrying his unborn child," she placed down the smaller sheets on the table and sighed, "But me? I'm just the freak that can be an asset to his power. I'm nothing."

Hayley smiled knowingly and glanced back, "I wouldn't say that. Do you know how difficult it was to get Klaus to tolerate the fact I was pregnant? The very first time he saw me in this place, I was captured by witches, on the verge of being killed and he did not care. He walked away. And then you show up and so easily get his attention."

"I'm...sorry?" Maleny felt the need to say. All that sounded awful and it made her feel guilty.

Hayley chuckled, "It's not your fault. I'm saying this so you see that you're not 'nothing' to Klaus. You have something he liked - something that even his own child didn't have."

"Don't say things like that, please," Maleny closed her eyes, feeling even worse then, "I am never worth more than that baby you're carrying, okay? It's never my intention."

"I believe you," Hayley raised her hands to show neutrality, "If you did, you would have already done something to me."

"I wouldn't," assured Maleny, preferring to leave things crystal clear, "I'm just here for help. And, right now, I'm not doing anything so can you please let me help you with those sketches?"

Hayley nodded, "Let's get to work, freak-that-can-be-an-asset."

Maleny raised an eyebrow as she joined Hayley in front of the tables, "Is that my new nickname now?"

"We'll see," Hayley shrugged, "depends on how long we see each other. Maybe I'll make a new one for you."

"Well, knocked-up-pregnant-wolf, if Klaus doesn't hurry up and come back then I'll be stuck in here forever."

"You know what?" Hayley crossed her arms, seemingly thinking, "You need to get yourself on vervain."

"Vervain?"

"Yeah, you're Cami's cousin and she broke compulsion. She didn't tell you about vervain?"

"We haven't exactly talked about this vampire stuff in detail," Maleny sheepishly smiled.

"Well, vervain helps you keep your freedom. No vampire can compel you to do anything and they can't feed off you either."

"Where can I get that?"

Hayley smiled, "We'll get some later, okay? Meanwhile, let's start investigating."

~ 0 ~

"Where the hell is my cousin?" Cami demanded from Klaus the moment they'd stepped out of the church St. Ann's, "I had to give my uncle some crappy lie about Maleny missing. Where do you have her? And I swear to God Klaus if you've hurt her in any way I will-"

"Calm down, Cami, I could do without the dramatics," Klaus rolled his eyes, "She's perfectly safe, tucked inside a nice room in the compound."

"Wh-what is she doing there?" Cami stepped forwards, already thinking the worst. It had been nearly a day since she'd last seen Maleny - the day they used to put their plan of Davina's rescue in action - and Cami was growing agitated and worried that her cousin was no where to be seen nor found. After the fight at Rousseau's she'd attended to Marcel which had taken some time into the night and while she tried phoning Maleny she never received an answer nor call back. The only thing that ran through Cami's mind was 'Klaus has her'.

"I thought it'd be best if she stayed in there until we find Papa Tunde again," Klaus finished explaining to Cami, "Seeing as she decided to put herself in ridiculous danger she could very well be in the enemy's hit list."

Cami nearly had to do a double-look after hearing that, "You're...protecting Maleny? Why? Why would you do that? What do you want from her?"

"I am looking out for my interests," Klaus corrected before she got any more ideas.

"She is none of your interest," Cami snapped angrily, thinking back to Marcel's story, "She is my cousin and she will stay out of your 'interests'," she put air-quotation marks, "and anywhere else that includes you. Marcel told me how Maleny is apparently so similar to a woman you used to date back in the 20th century so I need to leave it clear for you: stay away from my cousin. She is not a replacement for what ever it is you lost in the past."

"Camille, you clearly have no idea what is going on - I am not looking for a replacement," Klaus found it amusing how worked up Cami was, "This goes beyond anything you could ever believe," he decided to keep the extended lifespan of Maleny hidden from Cami for the moment. The less people that knew about the not-so-human, the best for him and his plans. Plus, Cami was just a human and she could put herself in a lot more danger with no one around to save her.

"I demand to see her right now," Cami declared.

"I'll have to suggest that happens on another occasion."

"I wasn't asking, I demand," Cami articulated very finely for him, "You owe me for a lot of crap in the past and now it's time to start repaying. Leave Maleny alone, she has no business being in any of your dilemmas."

At that moment, Marcel approached the two with a cellphone in hand, looking at Klaus with a bit of a shocked face, "It's Diego."

"And?" Klaus raised an eyebrow, "Has he got news?" Marcel could only nod as he handed the cellphone over. Klaus took the phone and spoke into it, "What's going on?" he demanded.

"Either our witch problems are over, or they're just get started," came the alarmed voice of Diego from the other line.

Without a word, Klaus hung up and looked at Marcel, both men leaving Cami with no words. Cami, indignant at the action, called after them, "Hey!? You don't just leave me like this!" she sighed and looked around, a bit ashamed at the looks she was getting from the others. Quickly, she hurried off to her work, unseeing a certain resurrected witch going up to her uncle.

~ 0 ~

Hayley had finished giving Maleny the last piece of scotch-tape Maleny had needed, the brunette woman deciding to go ahead and put together the smaller sheets of paper Davina had made sketches on just like Hayley had with the larger ones of Celeste.

"What is it?" Hayley questioned when Maleny had finished the taping. Hayley glanced at Maleny and found her staring at the picture with a stunned face and very pale skin, "You okay?" she set a hand on Maleny's shoulder, "What is it?"

"It's..." Maleny slowly began to come out of her stupor as she took a step closer to the table, her finger running along the hair section of the sketch, "...it's me."

Hayley made a confused face as she looked between Maleny and the sketch. The sketch looked nothing like Maleny, the woman on the sheets had longer hair and a completely different face.

It could not be Maleny.

~ 0 ~

Elijah was crouched down beside Papa Tunde's corpse as he examined the corpse, Marcel and Klaus behind with a bit of a thin patience. Klaus started pacing around the compound with a sarcastic deep sigh, "Can I get you anything, brother? A magnifying glass? A pipe, perhaps?"

"You have a theory you'd like to share with us, Niklaus?" Elijah looked up with a less than amused face.

"Back in the day, the witches wanted to send a threat, they'd just kill a chicken and leave it on your doorstep," Marcel remarked.

"It's rather a large and ominous chicken, wouldn't you say?"

"Papa Tunde defeated Rebekah with ease, almost got the two of us as well. If he was supposed to be the prize fighter, why leave him for dead in our front yard?" Klaus shook his head, feeling like an idiot for being unable to figure out the master plan of the witches.

Rebekah arrived with a serious expression, "You all may want to hear this," she declared and made all three men look back at her, "A girl literally exploded from a grave today as Sabine was giving a tour of the city of the dead. It was Monique Deveraux."

"What?" Klaus frowned.

"The tourists thought it was part of the show, but the witches are celebrating like it's some kind of bloody miracle."

"Maybe it is. They think that all hope is lost, but now suddenly a Harvest girl is resurrected," Marcel began, the glint of hope slowly making its way onto his face, "This is how we're gonna get Davina back-– kill the witch who took her place."

Hayley emerged from the room Maleny was compelled to stay inside of and held the taped-up sketch of Celeste, "Maleny and I have a theory on who one of them could be. Celeste. I mean, it's got to be. Davina was trying to tell us, she was drawing pictures of Celeste. She was warning us that a great evil is coming."

"First, Papa Tunde returns to settle old scores, now your murdered lover is back. This isn't witches attacking vampires. They're declaring war on us," Klaus said with an irritated sigh.

"Maleny is up there?" Rebekah had caught the name in Hayley's words with quickness, "Tell her to come out, I need to have a word with her."

"I would if she actually could," Hayley gave a small glare to Klaus, "You do remember you put her in there, right?"

"I do recall," he assured.

"Look, she's shaken up about the other sketch Davina made, I think someone should talk to her," Hayley looked at the rest, seriously needing someone to go in and talk to Maleny.

"What other sketch?" Elijah questioned.

"The ones on the smaller papers."

"I thought it was just the quote," Elijah shot an irritated look at Marcel.

"I thought it was too," Marcel raised his hands in defeat, "I never saw those sketches. Only the Celeste ones."

"Can someone explain to me what's going on?" Hayley called back the attention, "She's claiming the sketch is of her and yet I see another woman. I think the lock-down is getting to her."

"We have to see this sketch," Elijah looked at Klaus, "Now shall you be the one to do it and perhaps release her from the compulsion or shall I?"

Klaus rolled his eyes and headed for the stairs, leaving a very confused group below. When he entered the room he saw Maleny standing in front of a table where sheets of paper were placed on. The woman seemed to be frozen as if she was in shock about something.

"She drew me," Maleny spoke quietly, not turning back or giving any looks. Her eyes were glued to the sketch in front of her, "How can Davina have done that if she's never seen that woman? She drew me..."

"Now, we haven't established that the woman is you," Klaus said as he walked towards the table, already guessing just which woman Davina had drawn. He stopped beside Maleny and looked down at the sketch to see the first Maleny he had met as a human.

"Yes it is," Maleny quietly argued, "That's me," she tapped the paper.

"Davina said something about you, or at least pertaining to this sketch before we'd met," he picked up a corner of the sketch, "'It's magic that's owned yet at the same time not owned."

"What does that mean?" Maleny looked at him with confusion.

"I don't know, I would've thought you might have known something."

"I don't," she whispered and looked down at the sketch.

"Alright, alright, don't fret. There's plenty more to worry about," Klaus turned to her, placing a hand on her shoulder, "You can leave the room now."

Maleny frowned and pushed his hand off her, "That is the last time you ever compel me, do you understand? I doubt you did that to any of the other me's in the past. Why am I different?"

"It was a means for protection," Klaus rolled his eyes, weary of the same conversation repeating itself so many times today.

"If you want me protected then do it another way. I am not a puppet, Klaus. Don't treat me like one," Maleny shook her head and headed for the door. Upon going up to the rails, she saw Papa Tunde's corpse below and gasped, "What the hell is this?"

"Your previous not so secret admirer," Klaus sarcastically told her.

"You mean the one you killed," Maleny reminded, "I swear you need anger management classes," she mumbled.

"Maleny, can we have a word, please?" Rebekah called from below, having overheard the small bit Maleny said.

Maleny nodded, already knowing what was going to happen. She could only hope that the blonde wouldn't react too badly after she heard...

~ 0 ~

"You must be freaking kidding me," Rebekah let herself fall back on the couch of the study room. Maleny stood across with a shameful face as her head bowed, "You tricked me," Rebekah raised an eyebrow, "Thought I could give you something about Davina? Maleny!"

"I'm sorry but...no, I'm not sorry," Maleny decided to correct herself, "Because what happened to Davina was an injustice and I can't sit down and just take it. I needed to do something and, well...you were the only one I saw. Heck, even Cami went along with the plan and tried getting something out of Marcel."

"Who, by the way," Rebekah pointed, "is pretty peeved that you're here and locked up."

"Cami?" Maleny sighed when Rebekah nodded.

"Just a heads up, you may want to tell your cousin what's going."

Maleny sat down across on the couch, "I can't. She'll think I'm a liar. To her, I'm her adopted cousin who's she had so much fun with as kids. In reality I'm a centuries old witch trapped in a poor, innocent woman's body."

"How do you mean?" Rebekah raised an eyebrow, "The least you could do after tricking me is telling me what you needed from my brother. You said something about my brother killing Papa Tunde in the past - how could you have known that? I doubt Klaus decided to share that with you since it had to do with his special friend."

Maleny deeply sighed, "Alright, Rebekah, here it is: this body is not mine," she gestured to herself, "In reality, I am Maleny Rowan - the girl your family knew back in the old days before you became vampires."

"Impossible," Rebekah wasted no time in refusing, "Maleny disappeared and I'm pretty sure I know who it was."

"I doubt it," Maleny shook her head, "Look, I have dreams of the women that your brother, Klaus, has ever 'felt affection for'," both she and Rebekah shared a small laugh when Maleny put her air-quotation marks up, "And this body you see," she pointed at herself, "is probably another one of the innocent women I've inhabited in the past."

"Maleny Rowan," Rebekah whispered, Maleny nodding, "But that's...that's impossible."

"I'd say so too but then again I don't really know what's going on," Maleny said, "I can't remember that life and I keep dreaming of all these other women as if..."

"They were you," Rebekah narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"It's not 100% clear but what else is there? I have to be those women in the past. I just don't remember how this all started nor who did it and why. I told Davina about this and she said she would help me..."

"And then she died," Rebekah understood, "So getting Davina back isn't only because it was an injustice but..."

"No, it is," Maleny quickly cut in, "Above all is the safety of my friends. Davina was a sweet girl and she didn't deserve to die like that. But I won't deny that if she did came back to life I would benefit a bit more than the others."

Rebekah smiled, "So why not get another witch instead, hm? Doesn't have to be a New Orleans one to crack this mystery."

"I trusted Davina from the moment I met her. I can't trust another with this secret."

"But you told my brother and he's not the trustworthy kind."

"I told you and I barely know you," Maleny countered.

"Touche," Rebekah reached for the wine on the table beside her, "Well you've got me on your team if you need anything. Though don't expect anything about my little conspiracy team. I think it's broken."

"More than broken I should say," Elijah entered the room, "Gone forever I'd say."

Rebekah rolled her eyes, "Still mad?"

"About what?" Maleny curiously asked.

"I discovered my sister's plans on Klaus," Elijah explained.

"Ah, understood," Maleny leaned back on her spot.

"I take it you didn't come in here for a drink so you might as well tell me what you need," Rebekah crossed her arms.

Elijah nodded, "Clever sister of mine. I don't believe Hayley is safe here and I'd rather she be in the plantation should anything go wrong here..."

"Are you worried about Hayley, or whether or not you can trust me?" Rebekah countered.

"It's precisely because I trust you that I'm asking you to do this."

Rebekah swayed her head as she pretended to think about it, "Here's a novel idea- why don't you let Hayley decide for herself? Why are you dictating her fate?"

"I can see this is a family issue so I'll just be on my way..." Maleny slipped up from her spot and headed for the doorway.

"Actually I'd prefer you join as well," Elijah stopped her in her tracks.

Maleny glanced over her shoulder, "Me? I can do just fine on my own. Besides, I've got plenty to do here with Davina's sketches."

"For the same reason, if you are who we believe you to be-"

"I am," Maleny grew tired of having to repeat that.

Elijah studied the woman for a moment, spotting something he hadn't seen before, "I can't help but notice a certain chain around your neck."

Maleny's hand flew to the golden chain around her neck, the pendant hidden underneath her blouse, "Why do you speak about it?" she remembered Davina's words about the perception filter around the necklace. How could they have seen through it?

Elijah looked at Rebekah for agreement. Rebekah leaned forwards and looked at Maleny's neck, sure enough seeing the chain, "How did we not notice that before?" she blinked.

"Someone's cast a very powerful spell on you I can almost smell it," Elijah shook his head at Maleny, the woman looking between the two siblings with nervousness and confusion.

"What's going on?" she stepped back, slightly afraid.

"The spell's stopped us from seeing it," Rebekah stood up from the couch and joined Elijah's, both staring endlessly at Maleny.

"And consequently Niklaus," Elijah added.

"I swear to God if neither of you tell me what's going on I'll slap the hell out of you," Maleny huffed and crossed her arms.

"The necklace," Rebekah finally pointed, "Where'd you get it from?"

"Hm?" Maleny looked at her falling chain on her neck, "I don't know. It's the only thing I have that belongs to the real me. It's my mother's but that's all I know."

"I just don't understand how this works," Elijah said to himself as he pondered on the topic for the moment, "You just jumped into another body-"

"Excuse me but from everything I've heard, your little girlfriend has been doing the same thing. Only Celeste actually knows how to do it on her call. Maybe I should ask her questions..."

"Don't you dare," Elijah warned with a pointed finger at her.

"Only kidding," Maleny raised er hands and groaned, "but seriously, I'm telling the truth. I don't control this body jump thing and I can't remember how it works."

"Rebekah take her with Hayley," Elijah ordered after a moment of silence, "And not one word to Niklaus, understood? As far as he knows you will be with Camille," he told Maleny.

"No!" Maleny shouted firmly, "I'm not going anywhere. I just finished telling your brother I am not a puppet you can control!" but Rebekah started heading for her with a twisted smile Maleny knew would be the end of it all, "Stay away," she warned and backed away, "I'm not going anywhere! I haven't seen Cami nor ucle Kieran and I'm most certainly not leaving to some plan-"

Rebekah snapped the woman's neck.

"Rebekah," Elijah scolded, appalled at the action. He truly wished his siblings would have better, more peaceful, ways to get people to quiet down.

"Oh calm down," Rebekah had caught Maleny's temporary unconscious body in her arms and set her on the couch, "She's immortal, remember? Or can at least cheat death. Which ever way, it's pretty useful, don't you think?"

Elijah could roll only his eyes at his sister's nature but decided to focus on the impending issue before them. He walked to Maleny and carefully took out the pendant that hid underneath her blouse, both he and Rebekah studying it intently.

"It is," Rebekah breathed.

"But how?" Elijah questioned, letting the pendant fall back to its place.

"Don't question it, just be thankful," Rebekah knelt down beside Maleny's side and took the pendant in her fingers, "I remember it like it was yesterday. Abigail had given it to Maleny on her seventh birthday. After she died, Maleny never took it off. It's her, Elijah, it's really her."

"But her appearance..."

"Is not hers" Rebekah finished and looked up at him, "Someone put her in that body. There's something sinister going on here. We have to tell Klaus about this."

"And prove it how?" Elijah raised an eyebrow, making Rebekah halt in her desires, "This woman looks nothing like the Maleny we knew. Maleny was a witch in those days, and yet not immortal. This woman..."

"But we know it is," Rebekah stood up, "Just the way she's piqued our brother's interest in less than a night. She has that quality we haven't seen since..." she stopped in her thoughts when something entirely different came up, "...Maya," she whispered.

"Listen, we don't have time to figure out the whole puzzle at the moment," Elijah shook his head, "Just take her and Hayley away from here. And do try and not snap her neck again, please?"

"Yeah, fine" Rebekah rolled her eyes and took Maleny into her arms.

"And not a word to our brother," Elijah called in reminder.

"Don't understand why but alright," Rebekah glanced over her shoulder.

"Because I would not like to give hope and then snatch it away from him. She could very well be lying."

"I don't think she is," Rebekah smiled and looked down at Maleny before finally leaving.

~ 0 ~

By the time Maleny woke up, she found herself in the backseat of a car and heard the recognizable voices of Rebekah and Hayley. With a deep anger, Maleny sat up and flung the car door open before hopping on the ground with her hands on her hips, "Rebekah Mikaelson I'll kill you!" she declared.

"Wouldn't be the first to try," the blonde casually remarked.

"Nor the last," Hayley added.

"I said I didn't want to go!" Maleny marched towards Rebekah, "Why did you ignore me and..." she crinkled her face at the remnant of a small pain on her neck, "...snap my neck?" she put a hand on the side of her neck.

"It'll go away, don't worry," Rebekah waved her off.

"By all laws, you should be dead," Hayley studied Maleny with curiosity.

"Says the wolf who was impregnated by a vampire hybrid," Maleny shot back.

"Ouch, she wins that round," Rebekah smirked at Hayley.

"You are lucky I have a party to attend to," Hayley playfully wagged a finger to Maleny before turning and walking towards the plantation house.

"Party? What?" Maleny looked at Rebekah, "You know what, doesn't matter," she raised her hands and turned back to the car.

"I wouldn't if I were you, you're not going anywhere," Rebekah called, halting Maleny in her steps.

Maleny groaned, "You can't do this to me, you know," she turned around, "Klaus may have been able to compel me but I'm on vervain now. I can leave whenever I want to."

"You want to know about that necklace around your neck?" Rebekah crossed her arms, a hint of a smirk on her lips when Maleny stepped closer, "I know all about the owner, the true owner, of that necklace. Stick around and perhaps I'll talk about it," with that, Rebekah headed to the house.

Maleny looked around, unsure of what to do next. As far as she knew, the necklace belonged to her true self...only she didn't know who that was exactly. Perhaps...she could stick around for a minute or two to talk about it...

~ 0 ~

"The story begins back in the old days, very old days," Rebekah said as she and Maleny walked nearby the plantation house, leaving Hayley momentarily to talk while the wolf-woman saw to her party preparations, "There was this girl, her name was Maleny Rowan, and she was a witch. Her mother was close friends with my own, Esther. Maleny's mother was a powerful witch in our days and it seemed like her daughter would soon follow in the paths."

"I didn't know all that," Maleny whispered, looking at her hands with curiosity.

"She didn't either until she was around six or seven," Rebekah continued, "That's when she started noticing. So, her mother gave her a necklace..." her eyes drifted to the chain around Maleny's neck, "It was the color of gold with an oval pendant on it," Maleny lifted the pendant, "It had the symbols of Maleny's mother, Abigail's name, marked on it. It was a gift of encouragement to Maleny, she was nervous when it came to magic. Her mother thought it could be a symbol of their connection to each other as witches, mother and daughter. Though through that it turned into a much more sentimental value after Abigail passed away."

"Oh my..." Maleny looked at the pendant, sure enough seeing said symbols.

"Maleny was devastated. She had no idea what to do with her magic, all uncontrolled and no one to teach her. Her father was a pest and a menace to her. He hated her for God knows what reason," Rebekah rolled her eyes, "But my mother took Maleny in as her own and guided her throughout the years, teaching her how to be the witch that would continue her family's bloodline."

"That...sounds kind of nice," Maleny tried to hide her smile the best she could from Rebekah.

"Maleny was the most protected woman during our human and early vampire days," Rebekah grew serious all of a sudden, "...even from her father."

"What do you mean?" Maleny noticed the serious face Rebekah now wore, no more playful smirks nor expressions, "What happened?"

Rebekah looked down for a moment, "It was...bittersweet."

Maleny blinked, her gaze falling ahead as Rebekah spoke, for a moment seeing her words played into action...

Maleny Rowan ran through the woods in near sobs, her dress torn at parts and stained with blood. The sun was just casting down when she reached a small lake. She dropped to her knees and reached her hands inside the lake, lightly splashing water on her face. The red blood stained her fingers the more she urgently rubbed her face.

"Maleny! Maleny!" she heard Rebekah's calls.

Maleny gasped and tried even harder and faster to rid herself of the redness on her skin. But it was too late, Rebekah had found the girl in no time just by the scent.

"There you are, the village has already started the celebrations," Rebekah hurried up to Maleny and grabbed her by the arm, "For once, they're not making hard-eyes at us."

"I'm fine here," Maleny said in a trembling voice.

Rebekah noticed the shaky girl and the way Maleny avoided her look, "Maleny?" Rebekah tried looking at her but Maleny kept turning her head. Rebekah rolled her eyes and used her vampire-strength with ease to force the girl to stand and face her, "Oh my God," she breathed at the appearance of Maleny, "What on earth...?" she looked Maleny over with shock and yet it faded quick when she put the pieces together, "What was it for this time?"

Maleny's gaze slowly fell to the ground, "I, um...I accidentally burned his hand a little," she shut her eyes before tears developed again, "It's my fault, I should've made sure everything was cold enough before I gave him the food..."

"Wow, he must have beat you senseless for you to think it's your fault," Rebekah shook her head, "This is not going to stay like this, oh no," she declared and bit her wrist before holding it to Maleny, "Drink. I'm going to make sure this doesn't repeat itself."

"No!" Maleny opened her eyes and pushed Rebekah's wrist down, "I don't want anymore problems. Anything you do only makes him angrier. There's nothing to do but be better," Maleny nodded, barely managing not to quiver her lip like a child due to her struggle of withholding her sobs.

Rebekah immediately thought of a better idea, "You stay here, alright?"

"Where are you going?" Maleny asked in a whisper.

"You just be a good girl and stay here until someone comes and gets you," Rebekah put her hands on Maleny's shoulder and looked her in the eye, "Stay here," she instructed through compulsion, "I know how you like running off. Do not do that, understood?" Maleny nodded in obedience, "Alright, I'll be back," Rebekah promised and sped off.

Rebekah had stopped talking when she noticed Maleny seemed a bit distance, her gaze locked ahead of them, "Oi, are you listening?"

Maleny blinked, snapping out of her vision-trance, and looked at Rebekah, "I saw it," she whispered, her eyes watering as she replayed the vision in her mind, "I saw her...I saw..." she put a hand on her cheek, nearly swearing she could feel a sting where the other Maleny's bruise had been.

"You saw how awful she looked?" Rebekah asked, Maleny nodding, "Then you can only imagine what happened next."

"Did you...?"

Rebekah shook her head, "I could've done something, but I figured the best way to get revenge on Maleny's father was by calling in the one person who could really make the man suffer," she smirked, "I still don't regret it."

"What did you do?" Maleny dared to ask.

"The old Maleny wasn't an idiot so don't tell me you're one," Rebekah gave her a faint smile, "I called in my brother. I found Klaus and I told him everything. Up to that point, Maleny had always talked down the murderous instinct my brother developed after being turned. But then again, Maleny had never looked the way she did before that night," Rebekah swallowed, "Part of my decision to tell Klaus was because I feared for what could become of Maleny's life if someone didn't stop her father."

"So then..." Maleny blinked when she put the pieces together, all the meanwhile Rebekah beginning to smirk again.

"Oh yes," she nodded in confirmation.

"Oh my god," Maleny put a hand over her chest, her eyes wide, "He...he killed my father. That's awful!"

Rebekah scoffed, "Believe me, that man had it coming."

"No one can have that power," Maleny frowned at her, "No one ought to kill someone...what on Earth would make you or your brother do that?"

Rebekah gave a simple look and lightly sighed, "You're starting to see the visions, see what came after and then come and talk to me," she walked off back to the plantation.

Maleny could only think for a minute or two before deciding that nothing could ever be worth the senseless killing.

~ 0 ~

"Hey, nice of you to be join us again," Hayley greeted as soon as Maleny crossed through the front doors of the plantation house, the brunette just coming down the stairs, "I thought Rebekah may have eaten you or something."

"Oh ha ha," came Rebekah's voice from the kitchen, "I'll have you know I have taste!"

Maleny raised an eyebrow, "If she wasn't immortal, she'd be dead," she mumbled to Hayley who chuckled.

"No but seriously, I was beginning to worry," Hayley said as the two walked in further into the house, Maleny taking a look at everything she saw, "Rebekah said something about you having some visions alone, or..."

"They don't come on command," Maleny sighed absently.

"What are they exactly?" Hayley asked, a bit bashful for still being unable to grasp the issue of Maleny. She'd been explained by Maleny herself before leaving the house to take a walk with Rebekah. But it was brief and quick which didn't leave Hayley enough time to ask questions.

"I call them dreams and visions but in reality they're more like memories," Maleny explained as she walked around the living room, taking in every last detail of the room, "It's the memories of the previous lives I've lived in another body.""

"Yeah, but are they Klaus' or the respective woman?"

"I would not know how to answer that," Maleny faintly smiled and shrugged, "I mostly see it from a third point of view."

"And how do you feel about that?" Hayley raised an eyebrow, Maleny glancing with a confused expression, "Clearly, I know the identity thing to the core, I don't know who exactly I am, but...I'm talking about those visions/dreams things...you get to see all that. How does that make you feel?"

"Um..." Maleny shrugged again, "...I mean, I have this journal where I write them all down. It's sort of my way of releasing all my thoughts that I can't share with anyone. But I guess if I had to describe it, I'd say I feel I'm invading someone's privacy," she swallowed hard.

"Okay," Hayley raised her eyebrows, "That's not exactly what I thought I'd get as a response."

"If she's anything like someone I knew then you can definitely expect those types of answers from her," Rebekah strode into the room, hands on hips, "So," she looked at Maleny with an expectant look, "Have you seen the vision?"

"I told you, I can't see them on command," Maleny sighed and turned away.

"Don't bother her," Hayley whispered to Rebekah, "She has enough to deal with."

"Actually, there is one thing I've been trying to answer," Maleny suddenly spoke again, her back to the two women, "Rebekah, you said Maleny Rowan was a powerful witch, well...what if this body was of a witch too? Could I conduct magic? Or is my magic transferred?"

Rebekah tilted her head as she considered the idea, "I don't know, perhaps."

"Because I was thinking about what Davina wrote in her sketches of me. The magic that I own isn't really mine..." Maleny tried to explain the in the easiest way she could, "Maybe the magic I have now belongs to the owner of this body. Or maybe it's my original magic but-"

"Stop before you confuse yourself even more," Hayley chuckled.

Maleny sighed, "I really need to talk to Davina."

"You and me both," Rebekah mumbled and returned towards the kitchen.

~ 0 ~

As Hayley's werewolf party was ongoing, Maleny struggled to get a decent phone call out to Cami or even Kieran. She walked just a bit off to the side of the house, covering one ear so she could hear what the crazy phone-line was saying. She was having a real hard time focusing on anything ever since she and Rebekah had spoken earlier in the day. Her hand constantly found itself on the necklace she wore, as if it was holding onto the last real piece of her true identity. She felt so uncomfortable, so...troubled. On the one hand, she was a bit joyful to finally have some answers on her visions, but on the other she felt like she had lost (or was beginning to lose) what she had at the moment. Yes, the O'Connell's weren't her real family and none of the memories implanted in her head nor the human's were real, but she felt the love from them. She knew Cami loved her as an actual cousin, Kieran the same as a niece. She knew their love didn't come from implanted memories, but their core of beings. What they felt was real and what she felt was just as real.

To go back to being Maleny Rowan meant to have no family. She never considered that idea. She survived all the way to the present, but her family hadn't. Her mother died and her father was a pest who'd also died in the end. She had no siblings and as far as cousins or aunts and uncles, she wasn't really sure she had any. She'd be alone.

Apart from that, she learned she'd accepted that Klaus killed her father. What kind of person was she, then? To be completely okay with her father's murder. Why would she like to accept to being alone?

"You shouldn't be out here on your own," a voice said from behind.

Maleny had only time to make half of a turn before something hard and cold slammed on her face, making her fall to the ground unconscious.

~ 0 ~

In the plantation house, Hayley and her newest friend (and apparently betrothed) Jackson, found themselves in quite a predicament with all the possible exits of the house had been mysteriously shut and locked.

Hayley, who currently had her cellphone out with Elijah on the other line, hurriedly walked into the piano room with Jackson behind her, "We have to get out of here," she said urgently.

Jackson grabbed the piano stool and tried smashing it on the window, only to find the glass very much intact while the stool broke into pieces. Flames of fires grew around the exterior of the house and soon inside, burning down the curtain and part of the carpet. Quickly, Jackson snatched a tablecloth and poured the water of a vase onto it before pressing it to Hayley's mouth, "Here, breath through this," he instructed.

Hayley could only nod as she coughed, wondering where the hell Rebekah and Maleny was at the moment. Suddenly, Elijah crashed through the windows and quickly took Hayley into his arms before speeding out of the house. He set her on the ground while she continued to cough, "Where's Rebekah?" he urgently asked as he looked around, "And Maleny?"

"I don't know," Hayley shook her head, "Rebekah went off with one of them. Maleny was alone, but...I don't know. Elijah, my friend is still in there."

Elijah sighed and returned for the man inside the house, really rather be searching for his missing siblings instead, plus the apparently missing not-so-human.

~ 0 ~

Later on would find Elijah at the site where his sister had been apparently attacked by several wolves, only the corpses of the animals and Rebekah's jacket left as proof of the catastrophe.

"Missing something?" he heard Sabine behind him, in reality Celeste of course. Elijah turned to find her accompanied with Bastianna and Genevieve - more resurrected witches - all looking a tad pleasant at the events much to his irritation, "You won't hurt me," Celeste laughed, "I'm the only one alive who can break the curse on Hayley's family. And Genevieve knows where your sister is. Bastianna has Klaus, tucked away someplace safe. He's suffering horribly, I might add. And all because you chose to save the little wolf instead of your own blood."

"Where is Maleny?" he demanded, the only one not accounted for in Celeste's explanation.

"Collateral damage," Celeste casually shrugged, "She'll wake up soon, with a nasty bruise on her head. But you know, I died because of Klaus so by all logic she should die this time around just for kicks."

"Leave her, leave my family alone," Elijah warned before deciding to lunge for the woman.

Celeste raised her hand and forced him down to his knees with a shrill scream of pain, "Maleny is someone else's problem, she'll die soon enough. This right now, though, this is between your family. I guess "always" isn't forever, after all," she laughed as he went down unconscious again.

~ 0 ~

After Hayley had bid goodbye to Jackson for the full moon was about to end, she heard the low grunts of another person nearby and quickly became alarmed, "Elijah? Is that you?" she called, stepping back.

Instead of the man in suit, she found Maleny stumbling forwards with a hand on her head, stained with red from what Hayley assumed was blood.

"Oh!" Hayley rushed to the woman's side, lowering her hand to find the rather large cut on Maleny's head, "What happened to you?"

"Funny, I could ask the same about you and..." Maleny looked at the burnt down plantation house.

"You're a bit cheeky, do you know that?"

Maleny shrugged, "Ow..." she winced when Hayley accidentally touched the cut.

"Sorry," Hayley quickly backed away, though returned as soon as Maleny stumbled again, "So what's the deal? I thought you were immortal or something?"

"You said it, unable to die, not immune to injuries," Maleny gritted her teeth at another sharp pain in her head, "Someone is going to pay for this, I swear."

"I was thinking more of death," Elijah emerged from the woods rather displeased he'd been knocked out again.

"What is going on here?" Maleny asked with a tired sigh.

"Someone is going to die and I'm going to get both my siblings back."

"They're gone?" Maleny asked, glancing at Hayley who was equally confused.

"Not for long, that I can promise," Elijah muttered and headed off with the two women behind.

~ 0 ~

"I see it's all better now," Hayley was checking over Maleny's head injury, both now in the compound once more.

"Yeah, vampire blood always seems to do the trick," Maleny sighed, "Though I really wish Elijah and I stopped meeting like that. This is how rumors start."

Hayley chuckled, Maleny never seemed to take her issues with bitterness like most people would, "You can go see Cami any moment you want now," Hayley informed.

"I'd rather not see her right now," Maleny shook her head, smiling at the face Hayley was making, "Yeah, I know. The woman complains about being hauled away from her family and now that she's free to go she doesn't actually go."

"Pretty much," Hayley nodded.

"I don't want to worry her. She's going to ask where I was and I don't really want to tell her I was with Rebekah because then that would lead me to tell her she, along with Klaus, have disappeared. I just need some time to think of something to tell her, then I'll go."

"You really care about her don't you?"

"Adopted or not, real or not, Cami and Kieran are the only family I have in this world right now. I don't want to lose them, nor let anything happen to them."

"Come and be on lock down with me again, then," Hayley teased with a smile.

"We've gotta stop meeting like this too," Maleny chuckled, getting Hayley to laugh as well until a shout from Elijah cut them both off.

Immediately, Maleny stood from the couch and rushed after Hayley, the woman apparently much faster than one would think in her current state.

"Elijah! You're back," Hayley exclaimed.

"Did you find any..." Maleny stopped when both saw Elijah without a shirt and covered in tattooed names, "I thought you were going to find Sophie Deveraux...not get tattoos," she frowned.

"She's dead," Elijah declared rather calmly as he studied the names he could see on his arms.

"She's dead?" Maleny repeated in confusion, "How?"

"Let's not waste time, Maleny. I need you both to make a list of these names."

Maleny nudged Hayley beside her, snapping the woman out of her stupor and sending her a smirk, "Hayley, would you go and examine that? I'll get a pen and paper."

"You bitch," Hayley murmured in a mock scolding before heading over to Elijah.

Maleny meant to walk out of the room when she bumped into Marcel who carried the pen and paper, "Never mind," she sighed and turned back.

"Sabine? Elijah, what is this?" Hayley was looking at the name sprawled on Elijah's wrist.

"I believe they represent the names of the women Celeste inhabited for the past two centuries," he responded.

"That's called a Devinette. It's like a kind of riddle. Witches use them to teach their kids. Solve it, and it disappears," Maleny blurted absently, garnering the stares of everyone.

"How did you know that?" Hayley raised an eyebrow.

Maleny opened her mouth but found she didn't have the answer, "I...don't know. Guess it's something that I just remembered," she said, slightly excited.

"You, I've been meaning to talk to you," Marcel pointed at her.

"Another time, Marcel," Elijah called, "Time is of the essence at this point."

"I'm with him on this one," Maleny took the pen and paper, "We have a riddle to solve and I like riddles."

"But what's the point of all this?" Hayley sighed, heavily confused.

"Celeste forced me to make a choice between yourself and my siblings, and now she means to mock that choice, taunting me with a childish game," Elijah frowned, "The longer the game, the more they suffer. To find Klaus and Rebekah, we need to solve this riddle. The solution lies somewhere in these names."

Marcel noticed a name on Elijah's arm and blinked, "The name next to Sabine... Annie La Fleur, she's the witch that was shunned from her coven just over a year ago. Never knew why, but I can find out."

"Then go do it," Maleny shooed him off.

Marcel gave her a short, hard look before walking off to do the task.

"Well he doesn't like you very much," Hayley took the pen and paper and started scribbling down the names.

"He's suspicious about me. I would be too if I was him," Maleny crossed her arms, her hand one again reaching to the pendant of her necklace, "I'm a big question mark and I could turn out to be dangerous."

"You weren't," Elijah could almost scoff as he recalled the Maleny he knew back in the day, "You couldn't hurt a fly...and you tried miserably."

"You and Rebekah keep giving me these points about a woman you knew and yet none of you will tell me what happened to her. Neither of you tell me in detail who she was - who I am. Rebekah gave me this story and I hate it, it was the wrong story to tell. Did you know that Klaus killed my father?"

"There's a shocker," Hayley mumbled, still busy writing.

"That man was cruel," Elijah began but Maleny's sigh cut him off.

"You're going to defend the action?" she raised an eyebrow, "Out of all people I would think you'd be so far on the other line of this."

"I don't condone it but after seeing how much that man hurt his daughter, I think there was no other choice."

"But that wasn't yours, Rebekah's, nor Klaus's choice! Rebekah said that that Maleny had no one else but her father. How could making her an orphan be right?"

"Because she wouldn't be alone after that," Elijah answered calmly despite the half-shouting woman in front him.

"Who could take the place of family? Could anyone take the place of yours?" Maleny countered, knowing damn well that to Elijah family was literally everything, "You talk about family and yet you're alright with letting your brother take away someone else's?"

"Until you recover all those memories I don't believe you should be angry. You've yet to see it all."

"Then tell me," Maleny pleaded, "This is an endless game with you Mikaelson's. Tell me all about it."

"Time, Maleny, remember? We cannot waste even a second of it," Elijah reminded as Hayley finished jotting down the names, "Besides, I think it should be Klaus who tells you about you," he smiled, "Out of everyone he knew you the best."

Maleny sighed and conceded, she could tell that from the visions she'd seen. If anyone knew Maleny Rowan it was Klaus. And he was missing. Once again, she had to wait.

"Now you two look at that list and the women, while Marcel and I go after that Anne LeFleur," Elijah instructed as he picked up his shirt to put it back on.

As he left, Hayley gave Maleny a comforting smile, "I get it, I get it all."

"But you've already found your pack," Maleny sighed, "You know you're not alone. You have them and you have your baby, but me? I've got nothing."

Hayley sadly watched the girl sit down, real family or not Maleny really was alone in the world. She didn't have anything, not even her true identity.

~ 0 ~

"It's not answering," Maleny sighed as she handed Hayley back her cellphone, Maleny's having broken back at the plantation.

Maleny decided to call Cami and tell her that she was alright and simply looking into universities, but found that the only response she was getting was her voice mail. It worried Maleny and made it harder to stay away for the moment. Even Kieran wasn't answering and he always did. Something had to be going on.

Suddenly, Hayley's phone rang and Maleny immediately looked over Hayley's shoulder to see the ID.

"Sorry," Hayley half-smiled, "Elijah," she took the call.

Maleny shook her head and took the laptop Hayley held to continue their study on the women Celeste had inhabited. Maleny couldn't help but feel like this situation paralleled her own. According to Elijah, Celeste used a body jump spell to take over different women bodies. Maleny wondered if the spell Celeste used to jump bodies was the same spell Maleny was currently under. But in the end, Celeste planned it on her own. Maleny did not - at least she didn't remember planning it.

"She killed herself?" Hayley's voice brought Maleny out of her thoughts.

"A suicidal witch," Maleny noted, "Wonder if that's the recurring theme for Celeste."

Hayley put the call on speaker for Maleny to listen, "Yes, drowned herself in the Mississippi, to be precise. Celeste was clearly tired of the body and ready to take Sabine's," Elijah was saying.

"How do you know that?" Hayley asked.

"Because she leaped to her death from the very location Celeste and I had our first kiss."

"Oh that's poetic," Maleny rolled her eyes, "You know, a deranged-vendetta sort of way."

"All these names, these lives, stolen that Celeste might take her revenge. I suppose we have no choice but to see where they take us. I have to go. I'll call you back."

"Elijah, wait!" Hayley cut in before the call died.

"What is it?"

"Ask Marcel if he knows anything about a name on that list- Brynne Deveraux. Sophie said that it was her family's bloodline that put the curse on the Crescent wolves, but Celeste said that she was the only one that could break it. If Brynne Deveraux was actually Celeste when she cast the spell, then maybe Celeste can still break it."

"I'll see what he knows."

"Elijah, I'm really sorry that you're going through this. If I had known that Celeste made you choose who to help–"

"You were going to die in that fire Hayley along with my brother's child. There was no choice."

Before Hayley could remark, the call died. Maleny teased her right after, "Isn't that lovely?"

"Shut up," Hayley elbowed her and took the laptop back, Maleny laughing much to the woman's dismay.

~ 0 ~

Hours later would find Elijah and Marcel returning, Elijah just slightly ahead to be able to inform Hayley of the familiar Deveraux witch before Marcel could hear.

Marcel caught up quick and simply got to business, "Find anything about Clara, the mystery witch?"

Maleny had the laptop on her lap as she'd taken over much of the research, letting Hayley take a needed break. She looked up and shook her head, "There isn't much of her. She was just a nurse at the Fleur-de-Lis Sanitarium," she looked down just as Marcel froze in panic, "Anyone recognize her?" she gestured for them all to look at the screen as she clicked on a closer up of the mysterious witch.

"No, I don't," Elijah responded first, and then he noticed Marcel, "Marcel?" the man seemed far more alarmed now, "Marcel? Do I need to remind you that Niklaus and Rebekah are somewhere suffering horribly? If you know something, talk."

"The Sanitarium. That's where you'll find them," Marcel breathed.

"Are you sure?" Hayley asked, "How do you know?"

"I just know."

"Yes, but how?" Maleny raised an eyebrow.

Marcel looked away for a moment, driving Elijah's patience to far more dangers thin line, "Marcel?"

"If I'm right, you need to know exactly what we're walking into. We did something, Rebekah and I... I think the witches are trying to use it against her. It was, uh... something that you're not gonna like..."

Hayley and Maleny exchanged concerned glances, things were already at their pique...what more could there be?

But then Marcel spoke and explained how he and Rebekah had tricked a poor witch named Genevieve in 1919 into bringing Mikael to New Orleans, the tricked witch apparently being one of the resurrected witches in possession of Klaus and Rebekah.

To say Elijah was furious would be a severe understatement, "For the better part of a century, I have wondered how Father found us, what foolish mistake that we had made to destroy our time in the one place that we could finally call home. Did you know, I even blamed myself for a time, Marcellus?"

"Elijah," Hayley cautiously called but was blatantly ignored.

"Niklaus treated you like a son," he stepped forwards.

"Rebekah," was all Marcel had to say as if it was the excuse for any action he'd do, which in reality was, "I loved her. I still love her. All we ever wanted was to be together, but as long as Klaus was around, that was never gonna happen. But hey, I guess you wouldn't know anything about that, huh?"

"When Klaus learns the truth, there will be no end to his rage. I will not let my sister suffer that wrath."

"Then we need to get to them before he learns the truth," Marcel said, unaware that the inevitable had already happened.

"Hayley, Maleny, you two stay here," Elijah turned and pointed at them.

"Actually, I wanted to-" Maleny had tried to say but Hayley covered her mouth and put on a sweet smile.

"We'll stay," she said.

"I mean it," Elijah warned.

"So do I."

Maleny pushed Hayley's hand down and gave the brunette a hard look, misunderstanding why Hayley was accepting their roles as weak humans...ish, so easily. But Hayley looked back with a nearly pleading look which made Maleny huff and nod, "Fine, we'll stay."

"Thank you," Elijah nodded and looked back at Marcel, coldly speaking to the man, "Let's go and for your own safety you should pray that both my siblings are still alive when we find them," he hurried out of the room.

"Yes, sir," Marcel mumbled and followed.

As soon as the two men were off, Hayley stood up and looked around, "Alright, so this is where we part for the moment."

"What are you up to?" Maleny asked, remaining sat.

"I'm hunting me down a certain witch," she informed as she headed for the doorway and looked back, "I know you wanted to go somewhere else too. So, this works for both of us."

"Truthfully, yes, I have to go see Cami now. It's late and it's been about two days since she's heard anything from me. Plus..." Maleny paused for a moment, "...neither she nor Kieran have responded to my voicemails now. I'm worried."

"Then off we go," Hayley nodded.

Maleny stood up and sighed, "I won't be coming back though. There's something I need to do."

"Oh?"

Maleny took a breath, "The woman with Klaus during that time, Maya Sterling...she died there and I don't know why or how. I need to find out."

"Are you sure you want to keep doing that?" Hayley frowned, "Honestly, it seems to me like the deeper you get into that stuff the worse it is for you."

"It's my only chance of breaking this...curse," Maleny couldn't think of anything else to describe her situation, "This spell, whatever it is, it's got me seeing these different women for some reason and I want to know how to stop it. I am Maleny Rowan and this is not my body. I want to know how long has it been since I've been jumping bodies."

Hayley took a sigh for the woman and shook her head, "That probably won't end well," she murmured before leaving as well. But then again, what, in New Orleans, ever turned out to be good?