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valhallasubstitute · 3 years

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Pleasure

Edward x F Reader

The reader teaches Edward a thing or two about pleasure

REQUEST: Can i request a *smut* with Edward from TLK?

Maybe a dane reader that absolute rock his shit like nobody before 😂 she can be Finan Or Sihtric sister maybe?! Thank you!

A/N: Evidently, I don’t think much of the English as lovers lol, I blame my first bf – Tom if you find this, thank you for the inspo. Also, if anyone’s interested in a dom reader then please let me know, I think there’s a real lack and that makes the switch in me v sad

WARNINGS: SMUT 18+. Unprotected sex – it’s the ninth century they have an excuse, you don’t. M!Sub/F!dom undertones, brief female masturbation, male receiving oral

WC: 1654

Tags: @flowers-in-your-hayr @geekandbooknerd @mariaenchanted @solinarimoon

You could honestly say you never expected things to turn out this way.

How many Danes could say they had discussed the boy King’s sex life with him? If you counted yourself then it would be three. Sihtric, your brother, and Uhtred sitting either side of you. Add in the Irishman that started it all, the baby monk and a vaguely uncomfortable looking Lady of Mercia and the number of people looking unimpressed rises to six.

You sat around the fire; ale pouch being passed between you after another successful battle, but your good spirits were beginning to dwindle as you listen to Edward describe his other conquests.

There were more than you had expected, but you supposed his title and pretty face made it hard for young maidens to deny him. You hadn’t denied yourself the pleasure of admiring him either, long blond curls that grazed his broad shoulders, and light blue eyes, usually set in a frown. You found yourself believing his words before battle, letting his passion seep through you as you lost yourself in the sight of him, arm outstretched with a sword in hand, strong thighs gripping the saddle and a ferocity that one might overlook upon first meeting Edward.

It had the foundations of a fantasy that would have kept you warm.

The conversation moved slowly, Edward relaxing and his words becoming freer. You forced yourself back to the present, preparing yourself to hear another depressing confession.

‘The last was a girl from the camp just outside of Lundon. She was wild.’

‘Wild? Now this I can get behind.’ Finan leaned forward, a new sense of interest washing over him as Edward nodded. You had already heard of the ‘daring’ places Edward had fucked, the palace guest room, the stable, and who could forget his royal tent! Wild, you decided, was something Edward had never come across.

‘She took me out to the woods and laid herself bare before me.’ You watched the interest of the group peak, even your brother raised a brow. ‘She started touching herself.’ He motioned to his chest. ‘I’ve never seen a woman so bold. How is a man meant to control himself?’ Uhtred nodded lightly, taking the ale from a grinning Finan. ‘I laid her on the ground and had my way with her.’

Finan’s face fell. ‘That’s what you call wild? Christ have mercy.’

That was when it hit you. It wasn’t that the King was a bad lover necessarily, it was that none of what he had experience had anything to do with pleasure. Not real pleasure.

‘With respect my Lord, none of your exploits deserve the praise in which you speak of them.’

Aethelflaed’s eyes snapped to you as your words settled over the group. You watched as Edward straightened himself, his hands dusting his thighs before he looked at you. The ease was gone from his denier and for the first time that night you felt like you were speaking to the King of Wessex.

‘How so?’ His voice was calm, interest peeking out from behind his pride.

‘What you have described is the way all Saxon men are. You lie a woman on her back, slip inside – she’ll make a few noises, to hurry you up.’ You shrugged sympathetically. ‘Maybe she is feeling particularly generous, or bored, and will wrap her legs around you, pull you deeper so that she might feel something and coo in your ear a sweet encouragement. It’ll last all of five minutes before you’re lying on your back, satisfied, and she’ll tell how good you were before slipping away. Am I wrong, Aethelflaed?’

All eyes snapped to the Lady of Mercia, the way she looked down and the uncharacteristic blush on her cheeks told everyone everything they needed to know.

‘The thing is, Edward, is that you never had sex for pleasure.’ The King opened his mouth, but you kept going, ignoring the baffled looks from Saxons around you. ‘Only for release and they are not the same.’

Finan was the first to agree. ‘I like the way you think Y/N.’

‘Many men do.’ You stood as you spoke, smiling at your friends but staring pointedly at Edward before retiring to your tent.

It was around an hour later when you sense that you were not alone. In just your tunic you glanced at the dagger at your side before addressing the presence.

‘It’s not very kingly to lurk in the shadows, my lord.’

‘Your words have left an impression.’ The candlelight danced on Edwards features, and you almost missed the reservation in his steps for the soft curve of his mouth. You stood, walking towards him slowly, a small smile encouraging him. ‘After you left, I thought about the things you described, and myself in relation to them. You were right and … and I would like to experience it.’

You could sense his nerves despite the way Edward held your gaze, it was unwavering but as you circled him you noted the way his hands fidgeted behind his back.

‘Experience what my king?’ You stopped in front of him, your chest nearly brushing against his.

‘Pleasure.’

His lips crashed into yours, demanding but soft. You let yourself melt into it, tasting the ale on his tongue before pulling back completely. You laughed as Edward frowned, as a prince he was spoiled, it was clear to see, but you intended to ruin him as a king.

You lead him to the furs of your bed, telling him to sit with a light push on his chest. His eyes were already trained on you but darkened as you removed your clothing, leaving your body exposed. You took delight in how he didn’t know where to look, his eyes darting from your face to your sex with his bottom lip tugged tightly between his teeth.

You let your hands roam around your body, swaying gently till you palmed at your breast, rolling your nipple between your fingers. Your eyes fixated on the growing strain in Edwards breeches as your other hand travelled south, your index finger slipping between your thighs with a gasp.

‘Y/n…’ The sound of your name on his tongue made your stomach flutter, he sounded demanding.

‘Pleasure is the pleasure of your partner.’ You moaned quietly as you slipped another finger into your heat, keeping the pace steady.

‘Show me.’ He sounded desperate.

You took your fingers from between your thighs and brought them to your lips, smiling as Edwards own lips parted in want. You moved towards him slowly, enjoying the growing sweat forming on his forehead and the way he licked his lips.

He reached for you, but you knelt before him, your hands running up his thighs before you began untying his trousers. He lifted his hips and you focused on ridding him of the fabric before turning your attention to his erection.

It stood proudly before you, the tip red and already leaking precum. You breathed in deeply before pursing your lips and blowing cold air directly onto his member. Edward inhaled deeply, a smile coming to your lips when it jumped in response.

‘You are teasing me.’

‘I am pleasuring you.’ Edward opened his mouth to argue but the words died in his throat. Your lips wrapped around as much of him as you could fit, your hands finding the rest. You bobbed your head once, twice, flattening your tongue as you went down then curling it as you came up. Edward’s left hand bunched in the sheets, grounding himself while his right tangled itself in your hair, his grip creating a delicious burn.

Breathing through your nose you took him as deeply as you could, your throat contracting around him as your vision blurred. The way Edward moaned kept you there for longer than you had any man, quickly finding yourself obsessed with the way his eyes fluttered and his throat bobbed as he tried to hold back the noises. You only stopped when your lungs demanded it.

‘God … Please, Y/n.’

You kissed your way from his balls to his tip, giving it one last lick before kissing up the rest of his body, undoing his shirt as you went. You let your hands roam around the tight muscles of his thighs and abdomen, your tongue following your fingers until you were sat in his lap, your hands tangled in his hair and your lips branding his neck.

‘I want you Y/n.’ You pulled back, lips tingling and bruised, your core brushing against his erection.

‘You want me Edward, but do you desire me?’

‘Yes.’

You smiled at him, the darkness in his eyes and his grip on your hips making you ache. You sunk down on him slowly, enjoying the way he stretched you. You stilled as your hips met his, grinding your clit against his body. The tiny jolts of movement began to pick up speed, Edwards lips discovering the slope of your neck and your hands digging into his shoulders. You wanted it to last forever, to feel the hot ache of him between your legs but you knew he was close. His hips jutted up to meet yours, one of his hands finding its way to your clit as his breath grew heavy in your ear.

His fingers were skilled, rubbing in time to his thrusts while you clawed at his back, your knees beginning to give from beneath you. You came with a call of his name, the tightness in your stomach snapping into white pleasure that washed over your body, wave after wave. Edwards’s pace didn’t slow, and your walls gripped him tightly, convulsing around him until he came with a deep moan. His fingers slowed and both his hands come to rest on your hips. He was smiling.

‘From now on, I think I will always choose pleasure.’

‘A wise choice my lord, I’ll always be happy to comply.’

#tlk fanfic #tlk #The Last Kingdom #tlk Edward #tlk edward x reader #tlk edward smut #tlk edward x reader smut #edward the elder #inga writes

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laurore-stormwitch · 3 years

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Just one last night - AO3

Since the "holding hands in the quiet of his bedchamber" snippet came out I'm depicting a thousand different way for that scene to play out. This is just one of them! Hope you all enjoy it and feedback are always sooo appreciated! ______________________________________________________________

“I will leave the vials here as a precaution. I know you’re comfortable enough and I trust you to have the demon at bay, but we can’t ever be too careful.”

Zoya looked outside the window, mustering the courage to say the next words. As everyone said their goodnights, she had lingered in his sitting room, following him to his bedchambers and making small talk to fill the space between them. There wasn’t a real reason why she was there with him, except the pathetic excuse she was ashamed to have come up with. To be frank, anyone could have delivered the vials to him, it didn’t have to be her. Zoya just wanted it to be her, just for tonight. And she didn’t miss the knowing look on Tamar face when she agreed to let her handle it; yet she ignored it anyway, turning on her heels. She absentmindedly touched her neck while she put them on his nightstand; it felt bare at the absence of the heavy key she used to lock him in every night before the Fold. Her mind escaped her; at times she felt as if her and Nikolai were like distant planets, bound to orbit for their eternity around a bright sun without ever getting to touch it and be embraced by its warmth. They would circle each other, and when they came too close the flames of the sun scorched them. So they continued their march, growing distant again. But the orbit was set; they couldn’t steer away from it, it kept them in place, preventing them to drift too far from one another. Zoya let out a tired breath, watching the vials. You’re losing your cynicism to Nikolai’s sentimental nonsense. What’s gotten into your head? Now everything seemed to be going on smoothly, with Nikolai having regained control; the only precaution was for him to keep taking a mild sleeping draught just in case the demon came knocking in his mind. Her help or her presence weren’t needed anymore; even this small moment alone felt like a theft. She inhaled, steadying her voice to sound sharp, emotionless.

“Tamar and Tolya have more of this if it’s needed. Even the stronger one we used.” She closed her eyes under the dim light of the night, savouring the feeling of being in this room before dragging the dagger in. “It’s best if I don’t come here again. You can’t afford any more whispers now that you’re engaged. Especially since your wife to be isn’t exactly enthusiastic.”

A deeply buried part of her wanted Nikolai to protest, to find a way to still have her with him every evening. Her pragmatic side, on the contrary, reminded her that driving a wedge between them was the wise choice to make. She heard him sit on the bed with a sigh and turned to see his shoulders dropping; a defeated Nikolai was a hard sight to take.

“I suppose you’re right. Although I was almost getting used to it. I’ll miss your goodnight spite.”

“I’ll let you have enough of that at any other hour of day.”

“Make sure there’s no shortage of it. I don’t know how I’ll survive without hearing you delightfully insulting me every two sentences.”

He grinned. Leave it to Nikolai to find the strength to make everything seem easier. Zoya scoffed, taking a few steps until she stood in front of him.

“You look awful.” She stated, eyeing his strained face.

“See? How can I go to sleep without this?”

“You’ll sleep just fine. You just need to survive until the marriage.”

He groaned, casting a glare at her. She could see how much he hated this, how much he hated every time she was the one to mention it. It was hard not to comfort him, but it wasn’t her role to play.

“Come on, Nikolai. You only have to stand on an altar being handsome and say yes.”

“Ah, but saying yes to people is not an easy task, Zoya. I like to be a contrarian.”

“Believe me, I know”, she huffed, “It’s going to be quick and painless.” He considered her thoughtfully for a while, leaning back a little and resting his hands on the mattress, tilting his head in her direction. Her brow shot up with a questioning look.

“You might be eager to get rid of me, but you don’t seem excited for this either, you know.”

Nikolai pointed out, carefully pondering every word, an expectant look on his face as he studied her. Oh, bold of him, Zoya thought, caught off guard by his direct remark. She faltered for a moment, thinking he didn’t really know how right he was. He could never know. She dismissed him with a shrug of her shoulders, trying to look unfazed.

“We’re marrying you off to someone who tried to kill you, it’s not a choice I’d define perfect. And I don’t like weddings as a general rule.”

Half-truths were better than nothing. I especially don’t like yours. She put her best annoyance in the words, pursing her lips and sitting gracefully beside him on his bed, pulled here by the string that tied her to him. Zoya purposely ignored how dangerous this action was. A small part of her still wanted to savour these moments until she could. He scoffed, amused, shuffling more near to her, poking her playfully with his shoulder.

“Why would that be? You’re such the romantic type.”

Zoya glared at him, tossing her mane of black hair over her shoulder.

“What would you know about that?”

“Nothing, really.” She told herself she imagined the displeased tone he had while admitting this. “Are you?”

She pondered his question for a moment. No, she was most definitely not the romantic type. Nothing about her previous conquests had been romantic. Since she was little, she had know romance was not waiting in her life.

“I don’t think so. Not that I had the chance to find out. I stopped believing in these charades at a very young age.”

“Why is that?”

That’s a complex answer, Nikolai. One made of many stories, one that started soon in her life. She remembered showing him the scars on her back. This was no different, just another one of the wounds she had tried to heal. Why was it so natural to reveal her most guarded secrets to him? When had he began to unravel her like that? The words rolled out of her mouth before she could really think on them.

“At nine years old they tried to march me to my own wedding. Maybe that’s why I never grew fond of them.”

Zoya let her hands rest on the bed too, next to his, straightening her spine and keeping her posture up. Her chin was held high as she spoke. She didn’t want to look and find his compassion, his pity. But Nikolai was not like that, he would never be like that; he would just keep surprising her, over and over. After a wave of shock flowed by, he looked at her with a rumbling rage inside him. Despite herself, she was touched by his fierce reaction.

“What?” He sputtered, trying to control himself. His eyes never left her.

“We had nothing when I was young. So, my mother tried to sell the only thing she could make profit from: my beauty. But something happened, and the wedding was stopped.”

“You were a child, Zoya.”

“I was”, she conceded, “but it didn’t really matter.” He shook his head with a troubled look.

“It does matter. What happened?” You matter, Zoya. That’s what she heard in his strained tone.

“Someone saved me.”

Her voice wavered and cracked a bit at the thought of her aunt. Sweet Liliyana, brave Liliyana. She left and now Zoya was on her own on the ship with the two-star flag, sailing a restless sea. She couldn’t find the words to say this; it was a pain so carefully nestled in her heart that she feared she would’ve still succumbed to it, even with Juris guidance to accept it. Her lungs grew tighter, the weight of that loss pressing on her chest. She felt Nikolai moving on her side, regaining his calm: he was so close she could feel his warmth and the scent of his skin, still salty after the year since he abandoned Sturmhond. Their hands were already almost touching each other; suddenly, his made a shift and came to rest on hers, curling gently on it. She tensed for an instant and sucked a sharp breath in, but when she let herself relax, she found that his touch was soothing. It was an intimate and delicate gesture, driven by the despair he sensed even through her perfect stillness.

As he held her tight, Zoya felt she was not steering the ship alone in this particular storm. Her eyes wandered around, trying to distract herself: she foolishly thought how much she really liked this room. She liked the walls painted blue, a testament to the longing Nikolai felt for his days as a privateer; as much as she gave him hell about it, she enjoyed that part of him, the ruthless pirate and explorer. She could see why he chose that tint, it was comforting for him too, made him feel at home. It was so much like her own chambers, with the towering waves painted all over them. She glanced briefly at him under her lashes and found him silently looking at her. He didn’t push her, didn’t ask for more, just waited patiently for her to decide whether to go on or not.

Silence enveloped them like fog on a winter morning. The sea wasn’t troubled anymore; Nikolai was there with her, in a place that seemed to be always made just for him. She inhaled deeply.

“Then I was the one to save us in return. My power came through, and I cracked the roof of the church open. I was taken to the Little Palace and begun my training. You know the rest of the story, or some of it.” She turned to him: his eyes were hard to read in the faint light of the room. He was looking at her with marvel, and something else she couldn’t quite place. Something that dangerously looked like a kind of affection they couldn’t indulge on. The shadow of a smile flashed on him.

“It’s perfectly in your character.”

“What is?”

“To tear down a church at nine years old. Highly predictive of what came next.”

She smiled too. She couldn’t help but smile at him.

“Tolya might frown at my disregard for faith.”

“He most definitely would.”

Zoya knew she should’ve let go of his hand. She could hear his breathing, and if they stayed silent enough, she was so close she could hear his heartbeat. It was an intoxicating feeling.

“Before that happened, I dreamed of being a soldier, as I told you once. After that, I became one. Just not the kind I thought I’d be.”

All the lives she could’ve had flashed behind her eyes. She saw herself in an olive drab coat, serving in the First Army, with a rifle in her hands instead of the wind as her ally. She saw a little girl taken too soon, her suffering and helplessness. A young woman working in Liliana’s shop, who grew up to marry a nice farmer and be a mother, maybe. Lives that weren’t hers anymore, and that she would never trade, lives that peaked every now and then in her nightmares. There was another future too that she saw, distant and blurry: one full of Nikolai’s light, one she couldn’t dwell on, that was lost before it was even possible to conceive it. And yet their hands were still bound, none of them brave enough to break the connection.

“You’re still a soldier. A general, as a matter of fact. And your beauty is still something that makes people do insane things, isn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes at his teasing tone, wondering if he would do insane things for her.

“Beauty is a double-edged blade, Nikolai, as much as any other virtue. You can let others use you for it or be the one to weaponize it. They tried the first with me, so I learned to do the second. I shaped my appearance to be something that I could exploit for my own goals; be it to be respected, to gain favours, to have whoever man I wanted to toy with. To be the one in control. The way I look is a sword just like the ones made from steel.”

She would never admit she threw in the "toying with men" part just to gain a reaction. Not that it wasn’t true, or that she wasn’t proud of it, because she was. That was just how they were used to provoke each other, and none of them usually yield to the taunts, or they would just keep answering with the same snarky remarks. But this time, Nikolai flinched. A shadow went through his face and betrayed his inner turmoil, and it looked more like remorse than empty jelousy. She supposed she should’ve taken it as a victory and be satisfied, but this win just felt sour and left a bitter taste in her mouth. They were getting worse at this game. What are you thinking of, Nikolai? He nodded without answering; they both knew he understood this well. His charm was a weapon too, one he learned to wield at a young age, one that brought him to success and distracted his enemies many times. He began to brush his thumb on her palm, squeezing her hand lightly.

“I know you don’t need me to tell you. But you’re so much more than that.”

For all her confidence and withering glares, he seemed to know how sometimes she still felt like the child being dragged to marry an old man. How sometimes she was still scared, and lost, and lonely. He knew this was the reason why she left the lamp burning for him when she wished him goodnight: because everyone is afraid of their monsters when we’re alone in the darkness. Her heart missed his rhythm and she tightened her hold too, a way to told him she understood, that the gratitude she felt was too hard to voice. Zoya wondered how someone could feel so full and empty at the same time, until Nikolai interrupted her train of thoughts.

“Do you remember the night in Ivets? The carriage ride back?”

I remember everything, Nikolai. Every word you have ever said to me. She cocked her head towards him, some curls falling on her face, imitating his teasing tone.

“Want me to read your fate again?”

“What future do you see in the stars now, general?”

Her lips quirked in another smile. Wife, that’s how he called her that night. She didn’t miss how he seemed to have casually chosen another title now; it was a joke they could hardly afford anymore, one that caused too much ache somewhere deep inside of them. She kept the lightness in her tone, but replied with honesty.

“I see a war. A war fought on many fronts, but with many allies too. With friends. And I see a great young King leading his country to victory, against all odds. I see you rebuilding Ravka.”

“We.” He corrected as quickly as if it was an instinct. We. As if it could ever be a reality. She shook her head with a fond smile.

“This is your fate, Nikolai. You’ll read mine another time.”

He was still grazing her palm. With a sudden movement, he intertwined his fingers in hers, looking at their bound hands as if they were something sacred. She was all too aware of his warming touch on her skin. There they were, closer to their burning star than they’ve ever been.

“You really mean it.” It was not a question: he heard the certainty in her voice.

“I do. I believe in you.”

Nikolai locked his eyes in hers, casting her a longing look that made her want to fall at his knees. A whisper came out of him.

“And even if he wins, how much will his eager country take from the young King?”

The despair in his voice sent a stabbing pain through her. It will take you from me. And there it was, as their orbits almost crossed, the fire blazing, telling them it was time to say their goodbyes. The weight of his hand felt suffocating now; she trembled and untangled their hands abruptly, and it was like someone had just tore a limb away from her body. The fear had clutched her heart: an icy wind swept her, as the armour of the general slipped back into place and she cast aside her desires. Zoya remembered why she was here, what she had told herself. Who she was and what she had to do to save them. Things that were too easy to forget when Nikolai was standing so close. You can’t be here anymore. She couldn’t have this weakness. He seemed to want to reach for her, leaning slightly towards her, struck by her sudden shift in mood. She slowly got up, smoothing her kefta.

“This is a broken place, Your Highness. You will bring this drowning man to shore, of that much I’m sure.”

Even in the quiet of the room, Zoya could swear she heard him shout at her to stay. This she couldn’t endure; she paced towards the door, turning around to him when she trusted herself to be far enough not to surrender. The fire crackled, lighting up Nikolai’s golden pained eyes.

“But we will pay a price nonetheless.”

For days to come she would ponder wherever she had found the willpower to walk away from the safety of his hold. Zoya pulled the handle and got out without looking back, hearing the lock click behind her. Her steps were unsure, fragile. She wondered how many times she had left to hear this sound before his door would close forever, never to be opened for her again.

#zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya and nikolai #zoyalai #fan fiction #my writing #post kos #king of scars #rule of wolves

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detectiveupstead · 4 years

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Stay the Night [Upstead One Shot]

A/N: Hello, friends! This Upstead one shot (a grand total of 7,790 words) is based off of the Grey’s Anatomy episode, The Sound of Silence, in which Meredith gets brutally attacked by a patient. This, however, is my own spin of Hailey getting attacked by an offender and the aftermath. Hope you enjoy it!

He should have followed her.

That’s the only thought that was running through Jay’s mind. It was the only thought capable of running through his mind as he stood outside of the trauma bay, surrounded by his team, surrounded by Platt and fellow officers who had shown up as soon as the news broke. Jay was deaf to any sound, blind to everything else, only hearing the clamor of Will and the other doctors as he watched them treat Hailey. Upon noticing her state and the severity of her injuries, it hadn’t crossed anyone’s minds to shut the glass door and draw the curtain inside. And so Jay stood and watched.

It was only Adam and Kevin’s hands on him that stopped Jay from launching into the bay when he heard a strained, anguished cry emit from Hailey, unsure of what happened given the number of medical personnel surrounding her. His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, grunting against his friends’ grips as he tried to throw himself into the room, wanting to push aside all of the doctors for hurting her when he knew they were only helping. Hailey’s scream was followed by hoarse, heavy breathing, and Jay’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he jerked away from Adam and Kevin’s grip, burying his fingers in his short hair as he watched. Because that’s all he could do. Just watch and wait.

He should have fucking followed her.

*****

“Hey! Stop! Police!”

Why did they always fucking run? It never failed to exasperate Hailey as she chased after Nicholas, adrenaline pumping her legs, muscles working as she sprinted after him. Her boots thudded against the pavement as she went after him, gun in hand and, in the back of her mind, unsure if she was grateful for the lack of civilians on the late evening street. People milling around meant the possibility of no clear shot should she need to take it, but the lack of them meant nothing hindering Nicholas from getting away from her.

He turned the corner at the end of the block and Hailey forced herself to slow down, raising her gun as she checked around the wall before raising her weapon and following through, blue eyes sharp and eyebrows furrowed when she didn’t catch sight of Nicholas. No way he could’ve made it all the way to the other end already, or just disappear into thin air. Her senses on high alert, trying to pick up on any sound that would indicate Nicholas’s whereabouts—his breathing, his footsteps, anything—with her blue eyed gaze flickered everywhere as she carefully moved further down the narrow alley.

Apparently her senses weren’t sharp enough.

Somehow, Nicholas got the drop on her, using it to his advantage as the first thing he did was knock the gun out of her hand, the weapon clattering several feet away from their now struggling figures. Hailey was, by no means, someone who would go down without putting up a fight, face scrunched up in frustrated anger and determination as she tried to get the upper hand on Nicholas. But it was proving to be difficult, something Hailey was coming to a gradual, panicked realization, when she considered Nicholas probably had over a hundred pounds and a whole lot of muscles on her definitely smaller frame. Hand to hand combat with someone significantly bigger than her hadn’t been a wise choice—not that it had been much of a choice to begin with.

His fist was drawn back, and Hailey’s attempt of blocking it was useless as Nicholas’s fist came in contact with Hailey’s jaw, a pained grunt escaping her upon impact as the hit settled deep in her jaw bone. She felt as though her entire head had collided with something hard, eyes automatically squeezing shut as the pain was accompanied by the familiarly metallic taste of blood.

She stumbled back, but Nicholas’s hands were on her shoulders, using his strength to slam her into the brick wall behind her, the sound of her radio clattering to the ground distant to her ears. Hailey’s blonde hair flew at the harsh, jerky movement, her jacket doing nothing to prevent the scrape of the bricks against her back, her head thudding against the wall as her hands pressed against Nicholas’s chest. She dug her nails into him, hoping to bring some semblance of pain to get him to relent, eyes just barely opening to see him snarling at her.

Hailey exhaled sharply through her nose, finding enough strength to bring her right knee up as fast and as harshly as she could, slamming it deep into Nicholas’s stomach with a heated growl of her own. And although he keeled over with a groan, Hailey’s knee was no match for Nicholas’s stamina, because he recovered far quicker than she had anticipated, doing so by burying his fist in the same spot of her jaw as he had done so previously, stars exploding behind Hailey’s squeezed shut eyes. And then the air was knocked right out of her lungs as his heavy boot crushed into her chest, the sheer power of the kick once against knocking her into the brick wall. Only this time the rough action sent her flying back at an awkward angle, right side catching the brunt of the hit, and as Hailey fell to the ground, she had a vague feeling her right arm was broken. The numbing pain in her jaw told her it was probably broken, too.

This wasn’t good. This was not fucking good.

Nicholas wasn’t quite finished with her yet. “Think you could’ve taken me, bitch?” he spat, his large figure looming over her. There was a mild ringing in her ears. Why did his voice sound so far away? Hailey pressed the heels of her palms against the ground, the gravel digging into her skin as she tried to push herself up on shaky arms. But Nicholas grabbed a handful of her blonde hair at the top of her head, and Hailey cried out in pain as he yanked it to slam her head against the wall, and suddenly that ringing grew louder until it was all she could hear, her eyes squeezed shut, refusing to let the tears of frustration and pain fall. Her body didn’t feel like her own. It felt broken.

It was getting increasingly difficult to breathe, each small inhale and exhale feeling as though shards of glass were being punctured into her lungs. The taste of blood tainted her mouth, leaking down the corners of her mouth in semi thick streams, and her head spun. It hurt and it spun, a kind of pain and dizziness she hadn’t ever experienced.

Another punch to the jaw, though this time Nicholas kindly did so on the other side, his grip no longer on her so when the hit was delivered, she was sent to the floor. Her eyes squeezed shut as she fell, a breathless grunt escaping her, breath hitching when she felt shards of glass that had already been on the floor cut into the skin of her cheek and temple, blood oozing instantly from the new cuts.

“Hailey!”

Jay? She couldn’t be sure if it was him. She couldn’t hear, that much she was coming to realize. The several blows to her head made for a severe concussion, and the son of a bitch fucked up her ears. He fucked up her face and her arm and her chest. She was by no means a doctor, but in her moments of ragged breathing as she slowly came to acknowledge every sharp pain that stung her body, Hailey knew she had some broken ribs.

She heard something familiar then. Pop, pop, pop. Gun shots?

Her eyes could barely stay open, feeling her heart pound erratically in her chest. She knew that feeling an ache every time her heart beat wasn’t a good sign. Through hooded eyes, she saw Nicholas’s figure drop, body landing sideways with his eyes right in line with her own, and Hailey exhaled sharply, painfully. He was dead.

She groaned, eyes squeezing shut, the tears she’d fought to keep back finally falling. It wasn’t her fault. She no longer had the strength to keep them in.

Gentle yet frantic hands were on her, a familiar, far away voice calling her name, and Hailey decided she didn’t want the last thing she saw before she passed out to be the face of the man who did this to her. So she opened her eyes, slowly, reluctantly, blinking in hopes of clearing up her vision. No such luck.

The person above her was calling for help. She could barely hear, only picking out every other word. “5021 George. . . Officer down. . . Roll an ambo. . . Now!” And then hands were grasping her shoulders, her upper half laying on someone’s lap, feeling warm hands lightly touch her cheek. A familiar scent lightly tickled her numb nose—aftershave? She couldn’t tell, not over the taste and smell of blood. “Hailey, you’re gonna be okay. Stay with me, alright?” Jay. It was Jay. She knew it was him. Her head wasn’t right. Neither were her ears or vision. But she opened her eyes just enough to look up at him, to see a blurred familiar face and blurred worried green eyes. “Come on, Hailey. Stay awake. Look at me.”

Jay had her. She was safe. She could close her eyes now. At least she saw him.

*****

His hands were shaking at his sides as he watched his ragged looking brother exit Hailey’s room. They’d wheeled her off to get X-rays before setting her up in a room, and Jay hadn’t sat down for a second as they anxiously waited for an update. Will noted Jay’s red rimmed eyes, saw the anxiety and desperation etched into his features, looking more worse for wear than the other worried, terrified cops loitering around.

“How is she?” Voight asked. Even he didn’t bother hiding his concern for his detective.

Will let out a breath, looking over all of the quiet officers before his eyes finally met his younger brother’s. His throat was tight, never liking the part of the job where he had to recount a loved one’s injuries and sufferings to their family members. It was a million times worse having to tell it to his own brother. “She’s stable,” was how he chose to start off, knowing it was the most important thing. He was speaking to them all, but his gaze was only on Jay. “But she suffered massive head trauma. She’s got a severe concussion, and the blows to her head have caused temporary hearing loss.”

“Oh, my God,” Kim murmured, a sharp breath escaping her as the gravity of the situation befell Intelligence.

Jay remained silent. Numb.

“She—” Adam paused, throat working. “We heard her scream earlier, when you were working on her. What was that? Is—Is she okay?”

Will pursed his lips, breaking their gaze momentarily. “Her jaw was fractured at an awkward angle, which would make it difficult to heal properly. So Dr. Marcel had to—he had to completely break her jaw and wire it shut so it can heal. She can’t speak.” Will exhaled sharply. He always tried to remain detached when it came to situations like these, delivering the terrible news to friends and families of patients. But it was damn near impossible when he was delivering this kind of news to his friends and family. “Her left arm’s broken, and a broken rib punctured her lung, so we had to put in a chest tube. She’s—She’s got a long road ahead of her, most of which is going to be spent here. But she’ll heal.” He shrugged, almost defeated. “Physically, anyway.”

It was a wonder Jay heard anything his brother had been saying at all; his heart was thundering in his chest, blood rushing in his ears and were his fingers shaking? Hailey was hurt. Of course he knew that. He was the one who found her. He was the one who let her go after Nicholas while he took care of the partner. They both had gone without backup, something he had promised himself he would never do or let a partner of his do, and it nearly cost him Hailey.

The image of her laying in the alley, barely breathing and beaten to a horrific pulp. It had reminded Jay of the time when he’d seen her file after her first sting with Booth, bruises discoloring her face. Only this time, the nauseating twist of his stomach was overwhelming because he could have prevented this. He should have followed her, provided ample back up, and maybe she would be okay then. It was his fault.

“. . . Jay? Hey, Jay.” Will’s voice drew him back out of his muddled, guilt ridden thoughts, blinking tear heavy eyes as he looked at his older brother. All eyes were on him, and Jay would’ve felt them if he wasn’t so damn numb. Will’s concerned eyes were stuck on him, hand resting on Jay’s shoulder as he repeated, “She’s not awake yet but you can go see her.”

It took a moment for Will’s words to register in Jay’s mind, and when they did, he silently moved without a word. He walked the few steps towards her room, well aware of Voight and the rest of Intelligence following after him. Jay’s feet moved of their own accord, not quite comprehending where he was until he stood at the end of Hailey’s bed.

It was gravely silent in the room, the only sound coming from the shrill and continuous beep of the heart monitor, a loud reminder that she was still alive. Still breathing. From his peripherals, Jay noticed his team members entering around him, flanking either side of Hailey’s bed as he remained at the foot of it. Small tubes for the nasal cannula were connected to Hailey, providing her with supplemental oxygen as she lay unconscious.

Jay’s lips parted, a long, slow breath escaping him as he took in the sight of her. Reddish-purple bruises discolored her face, cuts from glass along her cheek, and his chest tightened at the swelling of her jaw. Needles and tubes were connected into her left arm, because her right was in a cast, broken and in need of healing. Her head was wrapped as well, a spot of blood vaguely visible under the white cloth bandaid by her temple. And despite the slow, calm, and steady beeping of Hailey’s heart monitor, Jay could feel his own heart racing in his chest, a guilt and panic mixing together into an overwhelming concoction of anger, desperation, and terror.

He should’ve followed her. He should’ve been her backup.

His fault, his fault, his fault.

The sight of her laying in the bed, unconscious and bruised, suddenly felt like too much. Jay, who had witnessed a lifetime’s worth of horror, couldn’t stand there looking at his partner, at this woman who had such a tight hold on him, because the sight was too much for him to handle. He physically couldn’t do it.

His teeth clenched together, he turned, feet carrying him out of the room, ignoring Vanessa’s soft call of his name as he moved further away and down the hall. Jay’s feet carried him, hands buried in his hair, head bowed as he squeezed his eyes shut. A ball of lead settled deeply in his stomach, throat closing up with a lump that made it difficult to breathe. Get it together, Halstead, he kept repeating to himself, forehead creased with the way his eyebrows were so harshly drawn together. He knew the tell tale signs of an episode, of a panic attack. Recognized the racing of his heart and the flush of his body. Hailey wouldn’t want him losing it like this.

Hailey. She was in this state because of him, wasn’t she?

“Damn it!” His voice echoed in the hall, and Jay didn’t think twice about slamming a fist against the nearest wall. Not head on, saving his knuckles from any damage, just the side of his fist. Still, the pain reverberated through his hand, but he didn’t care.

“Hey, Jay—Look at me!”

It was Voight, with his hands on Jay’s shoulders and heavy voice anchoring him back to reality as he turned Jay around to face him. Jay opened his eyes, eyebrows still draw together, jaw tight as he stared at his sergeant. His head was bowed, chin brought down, looking Voight right in the eyes as the older man stated, “This is not on you, you hear me?”

Jay scoffed, the sound derisive and deprecating, ready to push away from Voight. But Voight was firm, grip on Jay unrelenting, gaze sharp on his detective who stared back with glass sheen eyes. “You both made a tactical decision, and those don’t always end right. This is one of those times. It is not on you.”

“She’s my partner,” Jay spoke, his voice tight and edgy and controlled, ironic given that he felt completely out of his element here. Coming apart as every second passed by. His eyes once again felt heavy as tears drowned them, his emotions getting the better of him. Jay knew he had the habit of losing it in front of others, but it had never been with tears. Not until Hailey was laying in a hospital bed beaten within an inch of her life. “If I don’t have her back, who does?”

There was a silence between the two of them, filled by the distinct sounds of medical personnel doing their jobs and machines beeping in the distant, and Jay knew Voight was realizing there wasn’t much he could say to lift the guilt that suffocated him. “You were both just doing your jobs,” he repeated the idea, looking at him sternly, but the concern was still visible. Concern for Hailey’s recovery, concern for Jay’s conscious. He squeezed his shoulder. “Do you want to head home or—”

“No, no,” Jay instantly said, voice thick as he lifted his chin, gaze flickering up to the ceiling as his eyes remained glistening. He swallowed. “I’m staying.”

He walked past Voight, running is hand down his face as he made his way back to Hailey’s room. His arm dropped to the side as he stood in the doorway, feeling his friends’ eyes on him yet his own remained on the unconscious woman.

Everyone had left after a while, despite wanting to stay. Everyone except Jay, who brought the chair in the corner up to Hailey’s bedside, settling down on it with his elbow on the arm rest and knuckles pressed against his mouth. He couldn’t tear his gaze away, taking in every injury he could see. Every injury Nicholas was able to conflict before Jay got to them, before Jay manage to fire his weapon and fatally shoot the man who had been trying to deliver another kick to Hailey’s stomach.

The offender was dead, but Jay’s guilt was lively as ever.

*****

The only time Jay left Hailey’s room was to change into a new pair of clothes that Will had brought, going into a bathroom in the hallway. His brother had brought in breakfast as well in the morning, but Jay didn’t have the stomach to eat. So the breakfast burrito sat cold in Hailey’s room as Jay left the bathroom, now in a fresh pair of jeans and T-shirt. He hadn’t seen the point in changing, really, but Jay figured Will was trying to get him to move after spending the entire night sleeping on the somewhat comfortable chair.

His body felt heavy, weighed down my worry and guilt and mere exhaustion, given that he barely slept. Not because of the chair—he just didn’t want to take his eyes off Hailey. Logically, reasonably, Jay knew if anything were to happen, the doctors and nurses would be in there in a second to help. But he couldn’t sleep. Didn’t let himself.

Despite his exhaustion, Jay made his way back to Hailey’s room quickly, rounding the corner, only to stop when he was right in front of the room. His heart stilled for a moment, mimicking the way his muscles froze when his widened eyes took in the sight before him.

Blue. Gorgeous blue. The prettiest fucking blue he’d ever seen.

His voice was thick, throat closed up as he hoarsely sounded, “Hailey.”

He hadn’t even noticed his brother in the room. Jay’s eyes were glued to Hailey, who was staring at him with an expression he couldn’t quite get a read on—because it said nothing. She sat there, a blank look on her face, watching as he further entered the room and stood at her side. “Hailey, are you—”

She was frowning up at him, silent. Her jaw was still swollen, bruised from the hits it had taken, and she remained quiet. But it was Will who spoke up. “Jay.” He looked towards his older brother, who had a mildly concerned expression etched onto his face. Licking his lips, Will reminded, “She can’t hear, remember? At least not for now.”

Right. Shit, right. Fuck.

Jay blinked quickly a couple of times before looking back down at Hailey, who had been looking between the two Halsteads as she tried to figure out what was being said right over her head. Jay’s throat worked, noticing the frustration evident in her bruised features, before looking up at Will. With her uninjured left hand, Hailey made a gesture, like she was writing, and Will caught on.

“Wanna write something? Hold on,” he said, and Jay watched as he turned his back to them to rummage through a drawer in the counter by the wall. He then turned back to them, offering Hailey a small whiteboard and uncapped the marker before handing that to her, too.

Jay chewed on his lower lip, watching as Hailey wrote something down. When will my hearing come back? She erased the words after Will read them, handing him the marker as he wrote down, Can’t say for sure. Could be a day to a week. Upon reading the response, Hailey’s eyebrows furrowed together, harshly pushing away the whiteboard from her lap towards her feet, a strained groan escaping her, muffled with her jaw being wired shut.

Jay’s stomach twisted at her obvious frustration, biting the inside of his cheek as he and Will exchanged a look. Letting out a breath, Will grabbed the board and erased the words, writing some more. How’s your pain level? I can give you something if it’s too much.

Hailey read the words before giving a shake of her head, exhaling sharply through her nose as she turned her gaze up to the ceiling, apparently done with the silent conversation. Will looked at Jay, murmuring, “I’ll check on her later,” before exiting the room.

Settling down in the chair he had failed to sleep in, Jay let out a slow breath, hands tightly gripping the arms of the chair as his green eyes remained on his partner. Maybe his gaze was burning a hole in Hailey’s face because she was suddenly looking towards him, blue meeting green, and Jay remained silent as she watched him.

He sniffed, hand reaching up to run down his face once more as he broke their gaze, suddenly unable to look at her. He looked at her and all of her injuries were a reminder of how this happened. How he had been too late.

Jay heard a sharp tap, prompting him to look up to see Hailey tapping the marker against the bed to get his attention. His lips parted when he read the words she was showing him on the whiteboard.

This wasn’t your fault.

Throat closing up, Jay felt something inside of him crack; something that had began to crack the second he had entered the alley. His teeth pressed together, jaw tight to keep his expression from crumbling in front of her. But the fear had yet to loosen its grip on him—that unadulterated fear that he lost her was still heavy on his mind and heart, reminding him of how close of a call this was. He’d lost people; in Afghanistan, in Chicago, and it never got easier. He learned to healthily deal with his emotions, learned to be okay. But Jay had a feeling that if Hailey had succumbed to her injuries, if she wasn’t staring at him right now, if her bright blue eyes were instead dull and lifeless. . . He had a feeling he wouldn’t come back from that.

*****

When she woke up, her head wasn’t pounding as thunderously as it had been before. Still, though, Hailey’s eyes felt heavy as kept her head against the pillow, and she managed to shift her gaze to the right to catch sight of her partner. Jay slept on his side, a pillow under his head and a blanket half covering him, and Hailey exhaled quietly through her nose at the thought of him being uncomfortable. He’d slept on that couch for—how long had it been? She couldn’t remember how many days she’d already spent—but she wished he would go home to his bed.

She also knew that asking him would be pointless. Hailey hadn’t left the waiting room when he had been shot—not until she knew for sure that he was alive and well and recovering. But she was fine, wasn’t she? Sure, she couldn’t hear, her jaw was wired shut and she had some broken bones, but she was alive. Jay should go home and sleep on a comfortable bed rather than that couch.

But she would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate, didn’t love the fact that he insisted on staying with her, even with his hatred of hospitals.

There was a subtle ringing in her ears, a distant muffle of a sound she couldn’t comprehend, and Hailey squeezed her eyes shut at the reminder of her temporary deafness. And her temporary muteness. Her eyes opened and she looked around her room, towards the windows on the left that allowed her to see the rest of the hospital, the nurses’ station a few feet away as the world around her continued to move. She just couldn’t hear it.

The soreness in her jaw was ever present even as she tried to clench it, wincing as the pain throbbed through the bone, and Hailey hated the water that began burning her eyes. She felt trapped in her own body, unable to hear or speak, just watch everything around her move while she was stuck in this bed with a broken arm and even more fucked up body. She hated that she was in this position, hated Nicholas for putting her here, hated herself for not being able to defend herself properly even though, logically, Hailey knew she couldn’t fault herself for that.

Hailey Upton was never one to pity herself, never one to think of herself as a victim. But in this moment, days after being admitted to the hospital and needing help to go to the bathroom or take a sip of water or being unable to properly eat anything, her emotions were catching up to her and the tears were spilling from her eyes before she could help it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the tears wet her cheek as she leaned her head back, the sobs escaping her. She tried to remain quiet—but it was difficult knowing how loud or quiet she was when her hearing was damaged. The muffled sounds from before remained as such, distant in her ears, but Hailey could feel the quivering of her lips and the heaviness of her heart as she cried out of anger, frustration, and sadness.

Hailey wasn’t sure how long she stayed like that, with closed eyes leaking tears, but eventually she felt the mattress of her hospital bed shift, felt a body lay down right next to hers, and the familiar scent of her partner invaded her nose as she felt Jay’s left arm settle on the pillow above her head as his chest pressed against her right arm. She couldn’t bring herself to open her eyes, the sobs escaping her as she, for once, allowed herself to drown in her misery, her self pity, her anger.

But Jay was ever present. He remained lying next to her, propped up by her pillows, his left hand brushing away her blonde hair from her forehead while his other hand found her right one. His hand felt warm holding hers, callused fingers wrapping around hers perfectly as he anchored her emotions, pulling her out of the vat she was drowning in.

Everything hurt—physically and emotionally. Sure, she’d been banged up and bruised, had her fair share of trips to the hospital to get checked out for on-duty injuries. But it never had been this bad. She’d never gotten so beaten up before; God, she thought what Booth had done all those years ago at that damned New Years party had been awful—this felt ten times worse.

The hand that held hers in this moment, though, helped. She squeezed Jay’s hand, trying to steady out her breathing, which was a bit difficult when her mouth was wired shut and nose had become stuffy from the tears she had let out. But as she tried to calm down, catch her breath, the distant ringing in her ears started to fade, and her unsteady breathing started to sound louder and louder rather than feeling as though she was hearing it with cotton stuck in her ears.

Over the beating of her heart, sounds slowly started becoming clearer, gradually emerging from a distant muffle to being clear and present, and as the realization settled in her head, Hailey felt herself being pulled into reality. Jay’s hand still holding hers definitely helped.

The sounds came together slowly. First it was the steady beeping of her heart monitor. Then it was the vague sounds of the hospital bustling beyond her room. And then, finally, it was him.

“. . . love you. I know you can’t hear me, Hailey, I can’t imagine how awful this is. But I’ve got you. I’m here, alright? I love you and I’m here.”

Hailey inhaled sharply as Jay’s quiet, soothing voice filtered in her ears, eyes blinking open to rid of the tears as her blurred vision immediately dropped to his hand holding hers. Her heart once again began pounding as she heard his words, registered them in her muddled brain as a confession she didn’t know he wanted her to hear or not. He’d uttered it thinking she couldn’t. But she had. Her hearing had taken that exact moment to return, and Hailey now knew of a secret of Jay’s heart she wasn’t entirely sure she was meant to.

But it would be a complete lie to say it didn’t lift a weight off her chest she didn’t know she carried.

He loved her. He loved her the way she loved him. And although Hailey Upton didn’t like depending on other people, she held onto his words tightly, afraid of letting them slip.

“I’m gonna be here for you.” He was still talking, oblivious to Hailey’s ability to hear again, his voice quiet by her ear. Hailey knew it made Jay feel like he was doing something, made him feel useful in a situation she knew he otherwise felt helpless in. She was too familiar with that, given that’s how she had felt when he was in surgery. Her gaze still on their joined hands, reveling in the warmth of his touch, she listened to him continue with a small smile in his voice. “I’m gonna be by your side every day while you’re here, even after you’re discharged. You’re gonna be sick of seeing my face by the end of your recovery, but you can boss me around all you want until then.”

That had Hailey letting out a small laugh—as much as she could, anyway, through a wired shut jaw—briefly resting her head against his chest as she gave his hand a squeeze, his words both comforting and amusing. She would never be sick of seeing his face—that much, she was certain of.

Her laugh, despite being muffled because of her jaw, was enough to catch Jay’s attention. She felt him stop before leaning back slightly, and she lifted her gaze to see his bright, widened green eyes peering down at her. This close, Hailey could count every freckle on his face, could see the specks of gold in his green irises, and Hailey tried her best to school herself into a state of tranquility in case the heart monitor decided to betray her.

But Jay was looking at her in surprise, bewilderment, and Hailey raised her eyebrows in silent inquiry until he finally spoke up. “Hails—y-you—can you hear me?”

Hailey nodded, closed lips quirking up ever so slightly as she hummed an affirmative, given that’s all she was capable of doing, and watched as Jay’s lips parted to release the disbelieving scoff that escaped him before he ultimately grinned. “Shit—” Jay cut himself off with a shocked laugh, free hand running down his face while his other squeezed hers. She wanted to smile, the sight of his merely urging her to do so, as Jay shook his head. “I should—I should get a doctor—I’ll get Will, yeah? He’ll give you a quick check up.”

The excitement and relief brightened his eyes, and Hailey knew it was warranted—having her hearing back was a step forward in her recovery, that much she knew—so she nodded with a smile. Even if she didn’t want to let his hand go, or didn’t want to be rid of the warmth of his body as he got off the bed. But she let him go, watched as he stood to his feet with a relieved chuckle and ran his hand through his hair as he gave her one last look before leaving the room.

Despite the circumstances, if she could grin any wider, she would. No surprise it was because of Jay.

*****

“This is the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Jay laughed at the satisfied groan Hailey released after swallowing down a mouthful of the gyro he’d gotten for her, his own in his hands he kept forgetting to eat. He was too busy focusing on her. And the sound of her voice he could finally hear after what felt like forever.

“I figured your first proper meal should be your favorite,” Jay told her after taking a sip of his soda. With a smirk, he added, “You’re welcome.”

Hailey rolled her blue eyes, though the smile on her face was evident as she putted the gyro down on the paper plate in her lap to grab a napkin and wipe at her mouth. “I already thanked you—stop fishing.”

Jay merely chuckled before biting into his gyro, but his eyes never left her. She looked better now, much to everyone’s relief. Three days after her hearing had returned, they doctors had taken off the wires from her jaw, though she still hadn’t been allowed to move it too much for a few days after that. But the bruises on her face had started disappearing, yellowing out and nearly blending into her skin, the cuts and her internal injuries were healing well and the thick cast on her left arm was replaced with a brace.

She was getting better and Jay was more than relieved.

“I do need to thank you for something else, though.” Jay raised his eyebrows as Hailey’s blue eyes locked onto his green. Her lips quirked into a smile, showing off those dimples he’d so easily come to adore as she rolled her lip into her mouth. “Thank you for. . . For having my back out there. With Nicholas. You saved my life in the alley, so—you know. Thank you.”

Jay’s lips parted, her words tightening his chest as his eyebrows drew together. He leaned forward, arms resting on his thighs as he gave a shake of his head. “Hailey. . .” He spoke up, breath hitching in his throat as the corner of his lips quirked up. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. You’re. . .” He paused, feeling his throat lock out of nowhere. Lock from the thought of losing her. Lock from guilt. “You’re my partner and I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

“Jay,” Hailey began with a shake of her own head, eyebrows knitting together. “It wasn’t your fault.”

His jaw clenched, head dropping as his gaze went to the wrapped gyro he was still holding. A frown drew together his eyebrows too, the guilt still tightening his muscles. Since the moment he’d found her in the alleyway, Jay’s thoughts had been running rampant. No words of comfort from his brother, or Voight, or any member of his team calmed him down as he thought of his injured partner and how the extent of her beating could’ve been reduced had he gone after her sooner. Sure, he was occupied with the first offender, but he shouldn’t have let her go after Nicholas without backup. He was her backup. And he didn’t do his job the way he should’ve.

“That’s the first thing you wrote to me when you woke up,” Jay muttered through a dry, short chuckle, her handwriting flashing across his mind.

“I still mean it,” Hailey replied softly. “Besides, I’m doing better and I think I remember you saying something about me bossing you around until I’ve fully recovered.”

At that, despite the weight on his chest, Jay let out a laugh as he lifted his head, catching sight of her wide grin as he shot her look. “That would be the first thing you hear after temporary deafness,” he mused playfully.

Hailey let out a raspy chuckle. “It wasn’t.” He saw the instant moment of regret that flashed across her face as she let those two words slip past her mouth, neck tensing as she pressed her lips together and dropped her gaze to the half eaten gyro in her lap. She was avoiding his gaze, something Jay picked up on instantly, and Jay sat up slightly as his eyebrows furrowed together. What?

“It wasn’t?” he repeated, green eyes watching her carefully. What was she talking about? “Then what was—”

It slammed into him like a truck, harsher than the damn baseball bat he’d taken to the back of his head all those months ago. The blood in his veins froze as his heart jumped up right into the middle of his throat, and he stared at Hailey as she twisted her lips to the side, easily catching sight of the flush that spread across her cheeks. He remembered. Of course he remembered what he’d been murmuring to her, believing that she couldn’t hear him but still feeling the need to voice the words that wrapped around his heart.

He didn’t think she’d heard him. Had only uttered them because she couldn’t hear him. But she had. She knew how he felt. And Jay. . . Was alright with that.

Question was—was she?

“Hailey—”

“Jay—”

They both stopped short and he let out a nervous chuckle, watching as she smiled as well. She gave a shake of her head, gesturing to him with a soft, “Go ahead.”

He let out a breath, putting his plate on the table next to Hailey’s bed before linking his hands together, grip on himself tight as a way of keeping himself together. Jay reminded himself that this was Hailey—his partner, his best friend—and he could tell her anything. But this was different, wasn’t it? Their relationship was already so strong, unbreakable—he didn’t want to risk it. But he also couldn’t just pretend he never said what she had heard.

“I didn’t mean to make things weird between us,” he spoke slowly, carefully. “But I don’t—”

He stopped, feeling a tightness in his throat. Was he making a mistake? He didn’t think so, but the doubt was still present in the back of his mind. “Don’t what?” Hailey prodded quietly, gently. She deserved an answer.

His green eyes locked onto her blue, and Jay saw the hope in her eyes, the softness in her features, and it was enough to make him finish. “I don’t regret it. I meant what I said.”

Jay’s heart was pounding, taking in the way Hailey parted her lips and took in a breath. His gaze never left hers, even as she was about to say something, only to get cut off by a knock on the door that stole their attention, watching as Kim and Kevin entered.

Jay’s gaze flickered back to Hailey, who smiled at their friends, briefly meeting Jay’s gaze. She heard him. That’s all that mattered.

*****

She was finally able to go home. It felt damn good to finally leave her hospital room after taking a shower without feeling like her entire body was aching. She was finally in her own clothes, too, no longer in a hospital gown that ran a draft up her back. There was still a cast on her arm, but for the most part, she was physically healed and ready to sleep on the comfortable mattress of her own bed.

As soon as her discharge papers were signed, she went to pick up her duffel bag, only to be beaten to it as it was scooped right up, and she let out a soft chuckle at the sight of Jay standing there in his usual jeans and dark hoodie. His badge was clipped to his waistband, gun on his side and her bag in his hand. “Hey,” Hailey greeted with a smile. “Off duty already?”

A half smirk tilted at his lips. “Sarge let me off to pick you up. Since Rojas is on an undercover op.”

Hailey’s smile remained, biting the corner of her lip as she eyed him knowingly. “Sounds good,” she said. The two of them then began walking towards the door—Hailey couldn’t be out of there fast enough.

The car ride to her place consisted of the radio playing softly in the background as Jay told Hailey about the case they’d just wrapped up, knowing she didn’t like being out of the loop when it came to cases. It was comfortable, like nothing had changed, despite a conversation they’d had days ago still lingering in the back of their minds—a conversation they hadn’t brought up again since the day they’d had it. But they would; Hailey had a feeling.

When they got to her house, Jay came inside, setting her duffel bag on the coffee table in her living room. The house was silent, but Hailey felt a flood of relief and comfort rush through her as she stood in her own home. She hadn’t been there for so long, the days having blended together while she was in the hospital, and she couldn’t contain the sigh of relief that escaped her.

“You good?” Hailey opened her eyes to see Jay watching her, the amusement apparent in his features and signature half smirk. She didn’t particularly care he just saw her have a moment.

“Just glad to be out of the hospital,” Hailey told him with a smile, running her fingers through her blonde hair.

“Yeah, you and me both,” Jay chuckled softly.

She smiled, taking a step towards him, aware of the pounding in her heart as she looked up at her tall partner. “I appreciate you spending all those nights with me in the hospital, Jay.” Then, with a teasing scoff, she added, “Especially at the expense of your back.” She couldn’t imagine how uncomfortable that couch was.

He rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face remained as he responded, “Anything for you, partner.”

Hailey rolled her lower lip into her mouth, blue eyes locked onto his green as she repeated, “Partner?” She hadn’t meant for it to come out as a question, but it gave her the excuse to tilt her head a bit and find the courage to ask, “Is that all we are?”

Jay’s smile faltered slightly as he heard her question, and for a heart stopping moment, Hailey feared she had misstepped, had drudged up a topic he’d been trying to evade. But Hailey could read Jay well, knew him as well as she knew herself, and she saw the relief that swam in his green eyes as he gave a shake of his head. “Hell no.”

His hands were gentle on her face, carefully cradling her jaw after the rough time it had, but his touch was welcome as he tilted her head up and met her halfway with his lips pressing against hers. Hailey’s eyes instantly fell shut at the pressure of his soft lips against hers, returning the kiss just as earnestly as the stars exploded behind her eyes and her hands gripped his wrists to keep him in place.

The scruff he was sporting scratched at Hailey’s skin deliciously and she leaned into him, leaned into the kiss, feeling dizzy in the best way. She felt weak in the knees as Jay kissed her, as if he’d wanted to kiss her like this for the longest time, and she understood the feeling. She couldn’t remember how long she’d waited for this moment, either.

The kiss ended too soon, but Jay’s nose brushed against Hailey’s and she let out a soft breath. Her skin was warm, the heat from Jay’s body seeping into her bones. The smile, blissed out and sincere, upturned Hailey’s lips. “By the way,” she breathed, her lips brushing against Jay’s as she spoke, “I love you, too.”

Hailey could feel the relief relax his muscles, his thumb brushing across her cheekbone while the fingers of his other hand brushed a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Yeah?” he murmured, voice dropping an octave lower. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“Yeah,” Hailey returned, eyes slowly fluttering open. Her heart jumped to see his green eyes already watching her. Smile widening slightly, she asked, “Wanna stay over? My bed’s more comfortable than a hospital couch.”

Jay’s smirk returned—how did he manage to look charming at the same time? “Yeah,” he answered quietly before the smirk widened. “Think I’ve gotten too used to spending my nights with you.”

Hailey grinned, dimples in view. “Not that you’re complaining.”

Jay pressed another kiss to her lips, soft and slow. “Never.”

#jay halstead #hailey upton #hailey upton x jay halstead #jay halstead x hailey upton #jay halstead fic #hailey upton fic #chicago p.d.#chicago pd #cpd #writing #upstead #hailey x jay #jay x hailey #upstead one shot #upstead fanfic #upstead fic #jay halstead one shot #hailey upton one shot

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elderbloodlore · 4 years

Text

Calanthe was not a racist homicidal tyrant: a useless and bitter rant of someone whose favourite character ever got mercilessly butchered.

WHY ARE YOU WRITING THIS?

Well, let me give you a little bit of a backstory. I first read the Last Wish and the Sword of Destiny in 2012, when I was 14 years old. I instantly connected with the character of Calanthe, and after her death, it took me nearly a year to be able to pick up the saga itself. Ever since, she remained my favourite fictional character ever. As a little girl in misoginistic Poland, I was so lucky to have her as a role model. Because she fought for herself, she took no shit from anybody, she had love and respect of the people around her, and yet she had such tenderness and kindness about her that many strong woman-trope characters are missing these days, and that is exactly what happened to Calanthe when she was being translated to the screen. In 2015 The Wild Hunt was coming out and there were rumours of Ciri being included, so you can imagine my absolute glee and the hope I was filled with to have some more content with that one woman that meant so much to me growing up. And you can imagine my disappointment when all we got about her were a couple tiny mentions, even though the events of the Wild Hunt happen not even a decade after her death. Then the show by Netflix was announced and, once again, I had super high expectations. I wanted to see the wise, kind, beautiful Queen brought alive. December 2019 rolls in, and my hopes are being steamrolled. So here I am, 22 years old and crying over a fictional character, because one of the best written female characters ever (in my opinion) entered mainstream as a bullish, racist, homicidal tyrant. So let me address the biggest changes the show made to my beloved Calanthe Fiona Riannon, the Lioness of Cintra.

THE LOOKS

That was obviously the first thing that threw me off. I was quite enthusiastic when the cast was announced, but then as the first promo pictures were released, my enthusiasm was slowly dying down. In the books, Calanthe’s looks are adressed very often:

“As before, the queen wore emeralds matching the green of her dress and her eyes. As before, a thin gold crown encircled her ash-gray hair.” Sword of Destiny.

I tried to convince myself that Jodhi May won’t be a bad Calanthe so hard that I actually made this poor ass EDIT to feed my delusions and cheer myself up. In comparison, HERE is my personal favourite art of Calanthe that I find is the most accurate to the book portrayal.

Even when the first trailer dropped I was still trying to convince myself that even though she has none of her Elder Blood features or her iconic emerald green, that she wore exclusively in the books, she couldn’t be that bad. Right? Wrong.

THE DEMEANOR

This is probably the biggest change. Calanthe was one of the wisest, most gracefully-written characters in the entire saga, and I really hoped to see that on screen. She was quick-witted, calculating, but at the same time caring enough to let her daughter choose her own destiny in the end (even if it was to be with a hedgehog-headed man twice her age). Her smiles were said to always be full of kindness, she was acting very proper and clearly cared about her image. I’m not going to be getting too much into it with my own words, let these examples speak for me:

'Ah, Geralt,' said Calanthe, with a gesture forbidding a servant from refilling her goblet. 'I speak and you remain silent. We're at a feast. We all want to enjoy ourselves. Amuse me. I'm starting to miss your pertinent remarks and perceptive comments. I'd also be pleased to hear a compliment or two, homage or assurance of your obedience. In whichever order you choose.' [...] 'Hochebuz,' said Calante, looking at Geralt, 'my first battle. Although I fear rousing the indignation and contempt of such a proud witcher, I confess that we were fighting for money. Our enemy was burning villages which paid us levies and we, greedy for our tributes, challenged them on the field. A trivial reason, a trivial battle, a trivial three thousand corpses pecked to pieces by the crows. And look - instead of being ashamed I'm proud as a peacock that songs are sung about me. Even when sung to such awful music' Again she summoned her parody of a smile full of happiness and kindness, and answered the toast raised to her by lifting her own, empty, goblet. Geralt remained silent. The Last Wish.

'Aha,' said Calanthe quietly, clearly pleased. 'And what do you say, Geralt? The girl has taken after her mother. It's even a shame to waste her on that red-haired lout, Crach. The only hope is that the pup might grow into someone with Eist Tuirseach's class. It's the same blood, after all. Are you listening, Geralt? Cintra has to form an alliance with Skellige because the interest of the state demands it. My daughter has to marry the right person. Those are the results you must ensure me.' The Last Wish.

‘Very well then. As queen, I shall convene a council tomorrow. Cintra is not a tyranny. The council will decide whether a dead king's oath is to decide the fate of the successor to the throne. It will decide whether Pavetta and the throne of Cintra are to be given to a stranger, or to act according to the kingdom's interest.' The Last Wish.

'Pavetta!' Calanthe repeated. 'Answer. Do you choose to leave with this creature?' Pavetta raised her head. 'Yes.' The Force filling the hall echoed her, rumbling hollowly in the arches of the vault. No one, absolutely no one, made the slightest sound. Calanthe very slowly, collapsed into her throne. Her face was completely expressionless. The Last Wish.

Guards, armed with guisarmes and lances, ran in from the entrance. Calanthe, upright and threatening, with an authoritative, abrupt gesture indicated Urcheon to them. Pavetta started to shout, Eist Tuirseach to curse. Everyone jumped up, not quite knowing what to do. ‘Kill him!' shouted the queen. The Last Wish.

CINTRA, RACISM AND MURDERING HER OWN PEOPLE

In the books, Cintra was often mentioned to be obiding by the rules of the elves:

‘Dear child,’ said Vesemir gravely, 'don’t let yourself get carried away by your emotions. You were brought up differently, you’ve seen children being brought up in another way. Ciri comes from the south where girls and boys are brought up in the same way, like the elves. She was put on a pony when she was five and when she was eight she was already riding out hunting. She was taught to use a bow, javelin and sword. A bruise is nothing new to Ciri—’ Blood of Elves.

There were many elves and dwarves living peacefully within its borders. Calanthe’s two names - Fiona and Riannon, come from her ancestors that are respectively a quarter and a half elf, and known to be that. Calanthe was the one who taught Ciri that non-humans are not dangerous:

‘I’m not afraid at all!’ Ciri suddenly cried, assuming her little devil face for a moment. ‘And I’m not parrotised! So you’d better watch your step! Nothing can happen to me here. Be sure! I’m not afraid. My grandmamma says that dryads aren’t evil, and my grandmamma is the wisest woman in the world! My grandmamma… My grandmamma says there should be more forests like this one…’ Sword of Destiny.

There was no actual reason nor basis for the showrunners to make her racist and make her murder elves. Having her walk into her own daughter’s birthday party, bathed in elven blood, while she knows that the same blood flows in her own veins, at least partially, was completely unnecessary. Even in the polish version of the show from 2001 Calanthe said:

RELATIONSHIP WITH GERALT

This probably hits me the most on personal level, because I feel like Calanthe had a huge impact on Geralt’s growth as a character, and with such a drastic change to their relationship, I’m unsure as to he will now proceed to develop. Calanthe was, in large, one of the first people in the books that treated Geralt as anything more than a mutant. Here are some of my favourite scenes between the two, in comparison with how their relationship was portrayed in the show:

"At times, no, for years at a time, I deluded myself that you might forget. Or that for other reasons you might be prevented from coming. No, I didn't want anything unfortunate to happen to you, but I had to take into consideration the dangerous nature of your profession. It is said that death follows in your footsteps, Geralt of Rivia, but that you never look behind you. Then... when Pavetta... You know already?" "I know," Geralt said, inclining his head. "My sincere condolences..." "No," she interrupted, "it was all long ago. I no longer wear mourning clothes, as you see. I wore them for long enough.” Sword of Destiny.

He slowly pushed the cup on the table so that the clink of silver on malachite would not betray the uncontrollable trembling of his arm. "You don't deny it?" "No." She bent to seize his hand with vigor. "You disappoint me," she said, giggling prettily. "This isn't voluntary," he responded, laughing as well. "How did you guess, Calanthe?" "I did not guess." She did not release his hand. "I said it at random, that's all." They broke out in laughter. Sword of Destiny.

"I will not take it. It is too great a responsibility, one that I refuse to assume. I would not want for this child to speak about you the way... the way I..." "You hate this woman, Geralt?" "My mother? No, Calanthe. I doubt that she was given a choice... or perhaps she had no say? No, she had, you know, enough formulas and elixirs... Choice. There is a sacred and incontestable choice of every woman that must be respected. Emotions are of no importance here. She had the indisputable right to make such a choice. That's what she did. But I think about meeting her, the expression on her face then... it gives me a sort of perverse pleasure, if you understand what I mean." Sword of Destiny.

A rosebush grew next to the gazebo. Geralt plucked a flower, breaking its stem and then knelt, his head bowed, presenting the flower in his hands. "I regret that I did not meet you sooner, white-haired one," she said, accepting the offered rose. "Rise." He rose. "If you change your mind," she went on, sniffing the flower, "if you decide... Return to Cintra. I will wait for you. Your destiny will be waiting for you, as well. Perhaps not advitam aeternam, but for some time, no doubt." "Farewell, Calanthe." "Farewell, witcher. Look after yourself. I... I sometimes feel... in a strange way... that I am seeing you for the last time." "Farewell, my queen." Sword of Destiny.

FALL OF CINTRA AND CALANTHE’S DEATH

We were robbed of so many epic scenes that truly took away from Calanthe’s millitary accomplishments and showed none of the strength and determination she originally had:

"The Nilfgaardians dealt the first blow," he began after a moment of silence. "There were thousands. They met with the armies of Cintra in the Marnadal valley. The battle lasted all day: from dawn to dusk. Cintra's troops valiantly resisted before being decimated. The king died, and that's when the queen..." "Calanthe." "Yes. Seeing that her army had succumbed to panic and scattered, she gathered around herself and her standard any who could still fight and formed a line of defense that reached the river, next to the city. All the soldiers who were still able followed." "And Calanthe?" "With a handful of knights, she covered the troops' crossing and defended the rear. They say she fought like a man, plunging into the thick of the battle. She was impaled by pikes when she charged against the Nilfgaardian infantry. She was then evacuated to the city. What's in that flask, Geralt?" "Vodka. Want some?" "Well then, gladly." "Speak. Continue, Dandelion. Tell me everything." "The city wasn't properly defended. There was no headquarters. The defensive walls were empty. The rest of the knights and their families, the princes and the queen, barricaded themselves in the castle. The Nilfgaardians then took the castle after their sorcerers reduced the gate to cinders and burned down the walls. Only the tower, apparently protected by magic, resisted the spells of the Nilfgaardian sorcerers. Even so, the attackers penetrated inside four days later without making camp. The women had killed the children, the boys and girls, and fell upon their own swords or... What's is it, Geralt?" "Continue, Dandelion." "Or... like Calanthe... head first, from the battlement, the very top... It's said that she asked to be... but no-one would agree. So she climbed up to the crenelations and... jumped head first. They say they did horrible things to the corpse afterward. I don't want... What is it?” Sword of Destiny.

I understand that this happened because of limited screen time, probably, but the whole Fall of Cintra had been squeezed into what seemed to be a single day, a crushing defeat for Calanthe’s forces, and probably in some way, punishment for her pride.

AFTER CALANTHE’S DEATH

While reading the rest of the saga, these little snipits of people talking about Calanthe, mentioning her, often with respect and reverence, mentioning how her people mourned her and swore revange for her, truly kept me going through. I wished that, at the end, Ciri would find it in herself to return home and liberate it, as back then I had no way to spoil myself the ending. In the books, you can really feel the outrage almost all of Continent feels after the murder of Calanthe:

[...] Cintra is a symbol. Remember Sodden! If it were not for the massacre of that town and Calanthe's martyrdom, there would not have been such a victory then. The forces were equal — no one counted on our crushing them like that. But our armies threw themselves at their throats like wolves, like rabid dogs, to avenge the Lioness of Cintra. Blood of Elves.

[...] Bear in mind that these men left their homes and families, and fled to Sodden and Brugge, and to Temeria, because they wanted to fight for Cintra, for Calanthe’s blood. They wanted to liberate their country, to drive the invader from Cintra, so that Calanthe’s descendant would regain the throne. Baptism of Fire.

In the show, there is none of that. In fact, people seem to be full of disdain and hatred for her, saying things such as:

which, in turn, fills me with dread for the upcoming seasons, because I can already feel all the further butchery coming my beloved Queen’s way.

IN CONCLUSION

In all honestly, there is very little the Calanthe from the show has in common with the one from the books, the one I originally fell in love with. Which is not to say that Netflix’s Calanthe is not a great character in her own right, because who doesn’t love a badass sword-wielding Queen, but as a portrayal of the greatest ruler within the Witcher universe, and one of, in my opinion, best written female rules in literature, she falls flat, and that’s what pushed me to write this useless and slightly bitter rant, in hopes to maybe interest more people in the original version of Calanthe and maybe, just maybe, prompt some of you to read the saga or, at the very least, the short stories.

#Calanthe fiona riannon #queen calanthe #anti-netflix #rant #ask to tag

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clawsanddiamonds · 3 years

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IC PORTION; BASICS —

CHARACTER NAME/ALIAS: Selina Kyle / Catwoman

FACECLAIM: Morena Baccarin

AFFILIATIONS: Most notably, herself.

AGE (physical age as well, if different): 37

SPECIES (human, metahuman, alien, etc): Human

IS YOUR CHARACTER’S IDENTITY SECRET OR PUBLIC? Secret

IF SECRET, OR YOUR CHARACTER IS A CIVILIAN, DO THEY HAVE A CIVILIAN OCCUPATION? Hell no, unless you count thievery as an occupation. Her pockets are deep, certainly enough to sustain a temporary stay in Sokovia.

DOES YOUR CHARACTER LIVE IN THE MOUSEHOLE? IF SO, WHAT ARE THEIR DUTIES? No

DESCRIBE SIX TRAITS (3 positive, 3 negative) YOUR CHARACTER HAS AND HOW THESE AFFECT THEM: +Bonus: LOVED BY CATS. + Adaptable and independent: She will do what it takes to survive. Selina’s survival instincts are almost unparalleled - whatever it takes to make it, she will do it. She has worked so hard to create herself from the ground (under, even) up, and refuses to let anything stand in her way. She makes her own rules and only follows those, and even then sometimes changes things up. + Charismatic: Social engineering is the name of the Catwoman game, and it is something Selina excels at. Despite the manipulation piece, there is no denying that Selina Kyle has charm and will be the center of attention if that’s what she desires. She excels at manipulating social scenarios to exactly what she desires them to be, and to be successful at that she certainly has to be charming with dazzling smiles and easy-flowing conversation. + Intelligent: Strength and intelligence go hand-in-hand in the world Selina has found herself in, and she was blessed to not be lousy of either. Selina’s intelligence is often as quick as her whip, and she’s quick on her feet (ha) and outside of the box as well. Her heists and plans are usually overly organized and well thought out with a large deal of thought and planning behind them, always with many contingencies in case things go awry. Selina is able to process things very quickly and react in kind, an absolute necessity in her line of work. - Selfish / narcissistic: At the end of the day, Selina’s one and only priority is herself. While, at times, she certainly can show compassion and concern for others, her biggest concern is her own wellbeing and her comfort. Selina’s need to be self-serving and independent is number one, and overrides most other desires and needs in her life. - Distrusting / doesn’t play well with others: Letting people in is something that Selina avoids at all costs, considering her history and the things that she has been through. Her initial instinct is to distrust (and usually dislike), and it is hard to sway away from the initial impression. After all, her survival has depended on this many times over. Feeling attached or contained is anxiety-driving for her, and therefore, she avoids it. Those that she does let in and trust are few and far between, and those relationships are often complicated: Selina is not above sabotaging these relationships out of fear, and to prove that she needs no one. - Calculating: Selina is always ten steps ahead, which can certainly be seen positively in many lights but her intentions are usually poor. When pushed, Selina can be manipulative, cruel and devious. Her cunning is always razor sharp and her plans and heists will use strategies crafted precisely to the weaknesses available to her. After all, anything you can do, she can do better.

POWERS AND/OR ABILITIES: peak human condition, extreme agility, near perfect balance and reflexes, acrobatics, hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, boxing, disguise, stealth, thievery, proficient with most weaponry she can get her paws on.

WEAKNESSES: Physically, she’s absolutely human so there are absolutely downfalls to that. Personality wise, she’s absolutely unable to back down from a challenge and struggles with a conflicting internal moral compass quite a bit and has a pathological need for freedom.

IC PORTION; DETAILS —

WHAT BROUGHT YOUR CHARACTER TO SOKOVIA? In short? The masquerade hosted by the UN had certainly caught her attention, and Selina found herself an alias and managed to snag an invitation. Unfortunately, things got a little dicey before she managed to snag any real items of interest, even if she did make off with more than a few wallets and some jewelry. However, consider her interest piqued enough for her to make a temporary stay in Sokovia after the disaster that was the masquerade. After all, there’s definitely more she can do here.

DID THEY SIGN THE ACCORDS? WHY OR WHY NOT? No.

PROVIDE 3-5 HEADCANONS RELATED TO YOUR CHARACTER: Selina quietly donates funds under various aliases to group homes and charities dedicated to young children that grew up in similar situations as she did, trying to save other girls from the horrors she had to face so young. Selina was severely claustrophobic as a child and teen, and still feels a sense of panic when enclosed in tight spaces. She has an extreme fear of being trapped, doesn’t like to feel blocked in, though has been able to hone in one her ability to keep the panic down as she’s gotten older. Selina thoroughly enjoys dancing, in just about any facet. It’s a way to let loose, almost like fighting without the bruises and the blood. Dislikes background noises, such as music for the sake of just having it on or the TV on in the background. Selina much prefers the quiet. Selina associates Catwoman almost as a separate entity, a separate part of herself that she has become reliant on. She feels as though she is a different person when she puts on the suit - stronger, angrier, less concerned about the consequences of her actions. Catwoman has become a part of her, personally as well as professionally. Selina has a slight sense of disgust for the vigilantes that include children in their antics and take them on as sidekicks. She works alongside them at times and has a desperate urge to protect the children, especially after seeing most of them injured or tortured and some of them die.

CHARACTER BIO — tw: everything. e v e r y t h i n g. drugs, alcohol, pedophilia mentions, teenage prostitutes, murder, suicide ...everything.

In life, there are really two choices: you adapt, or you die. Selina prided herself on avoiding the latter, which meant she excelled at the former. A tragic backstory goes hand-in-hand with most Gothamites, and Selina was no exception: her mother died by her own hand when Selina was just a child, leaving her and her sister in the care of a father unfit and unwilling for the job, leaving the girls to fend for themselves. Social workers made quick work of plucking Selinga and Magdalene from the Kyle household, depositing them instead into Sprang Hill, a group home of sorts. Selina found that Sprang Hill was not much better than being out on her own, and found herself fighting to keep her and her sister safe. Her behavior was considered less than appropriate and ideal, and so Selina was sent away from Sprang Hill at the age of eleven, separating her from her sister. Sea Gate was worse than Sprang Hill, worse than Selina could have imagined, and so the fight for survival continued. The director of Sea Gate was cruel and believed in harsh discipline, and seemed to have a mission to break Selina and make her compliant, though he was largely unsuccessful. She was about thirteen when she learned of the director’s crimes, primarily embezzling money from the program, and was bold enough to brag about her findings. This resulted in Selina finding herself back on the streets, but not before the man in question tried to have her killed: Selina was drugged, thrown into a bag and tossed into the ocean to prevent her from going to the authorities. (Silly man, didn’t he know that cats have nine lives?) Selina survived, and returned to Sea Gate to demand that all records of her be destroyed and that she be let go, scott free. Back on the street, Selina joined the Alleytown Gang, which was a community of sorts consisting of pickpockets and thieves run by a woman who went by Mama Fortuna. Selina was already a skilled pickpocket and thief, fierce to her very core, but this was where she was able to further hone in on her thieving skills. However, her time with the group did not last long, as Selina found herself suffocating under Fortuna’s thumb. Survival instinct kicked in again, and Selina was forced to take extraordinary measures: at the age of fifteen, she resorted to prostitution to earn money to keep herself afloat. It was here that she met Sylvia, a mother hen of sorts to help guide Selina through the new world she found herself in. Sylvia did her best to protect Selina, and found herself beaten nearly to death when she took on customers too rough for the green-Selina to handle. However, Sylvia’s protections didn’t last long as Selina dug a hole for herself with a pimp named Stan, who Selina began to see personally outside of work as well. She thought she was in love at seventeen with a man at least twice her age that abused her heavily. She was left in an alley after a particularly bad confrontation with him, and the detective questioning her in the hospital got nothing but lip and attitude back despite trying to help her. Selina was left with a phone number of a man that the detective said would at least teach her how to defend herself: Ted Grant. Initially, Selina put the number aside and went right back to work on the streets and right back to Stan. She was given more “kinky” clients with a slinky cat costume to go with it, playing the part of a dominatrix for her customers. It was then that Selina decided to call the number she’d been given and train with Grant, deciding she needed to put her safety first in even trickier situations. Selina took to training like a cat to cream; she was able to learn an eclectic mix of fighting skills to have in her back pocket for when things went awry. After a client gave Selina a whip to use in her dominatrix role, Selina went to Ted and demanded he teach her how to use it as a weapon rather than a toy used for sex work. Selina took another young prostitute under her wing, a teenager named Holly that Selina saw quite a bit of herself in: too young for this, but out of options and Selina did what she could to protect her, much as Sylvia had once done for her. While she was training with Ted, Selina met and began working with Stark, a criminal mastermind that helped her hone in further on her thievery skills. Stark took Selina on as something like a partner in his crime industry, and Selina kept this a secret and continued to work as a prostitute as a cover. It was around this time that Selina witnessed Batman in action for the first time and saw him escape from the police. She felt inspired by him: anonymous, unstoppable, feared and used this inspiration when she donned the catsuit she’d been given to use as a dominatrix as her own costume to conceal her identity, reclaiming the suit for herself. Donning her catsuit as something akin to a suit of armor, Selina quit being a prostitute, beating her pimp (Stan) within an inch of his life and leaving him in the same alley that he’d left her for dead in. Luck would have it that as she unmasked herself, she would run into her sister for the first time since they’d been separated all those years ago. Overwhelmed and filled with a sense of dread and terror, Selina ran and this caused her sister to pursue her. Stan took note of this, and once recovered enough to enact his revenge, would kidnap Magdalene and use her as a tool to trap and contain Selina. The situation quickly escalated, with Batman saving Magdalene though Stan did not survive the encounter. Selina realized that wearing the catsuit made her feel different - empowered, enraged, and severely out of control. She swore she would never wear it again, not after the near-death of her sister and Stan’s demise. However, as fate would have it, Selina found herself slipping into the catsuit again after Holly was beaten nearly to death by a police officer who had hired the teen as a client. She nearly killed the officer, stopped by another intervention from Batman himself. Selina’s legacy as a career thief as Catwoman started there, primarily on the East End of Gotham where she targeted crime bosses with fewer morals than she had herself and deep pockets. She set her sights high and decided to go for gold and quickly climbed to the top, opting to plan a job against the one and only Carmine Falcone. She was half successful, clawing and permanently scarring Falcone’s face with the metal claws she used with her catsuit during the operation, though ended up needing a rescue from the one and only Batman himself yet again. The relationship between the Cat and the Bat remained conflicting as such: sometimes on the same side of the coin, while others on the opposite, with occasional team ups when they weren’t on opposing sides. A team up with Stark, her once-mentor, led to Selina betraying him and making off with the loot intended for both of them (valuable diamonds which would sustain her and her lifestyle for quite some time); this was a power move that surely proved that Selina was able to take care of herself, was controlled by no one and proved that she was an incredible thief in her own right. Selina Kyle was transformed. Street-kid turned criminal turned prostitute turned socialite with the money Catwoman procured from her heists. She was finally reaching the heights she never thought she could, what she felt she always deserved, and was licking up each and every second of it. Catwoman began to work internationally, organizing detailed and major heists globally rather than confining herself to Gotham. Catwoman continued to tip the scales into vigilantism at times when she was not off scoring, working with her own brand of personal justice on cases that she deemed worthy of her attention and action. However, despite it all, she always had her eyes on the prize and her priority was always set on one thing and one one thing only: herself.

EXTRAS —

Myers Briggs: ISTP Hogwarts house: Slytherin, Ravenclaw a close second Zodiac: Pisces Sin: Greed, Pride

#srisingintro

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ears-awake-eyes-opened · 4 years

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(Hayffie and Everlark 💕. Effie’s first post-revolution visit to District 12. Haymitch and Effie have an agreement to keep their relationship secret, but Katniss and Peeta are observant. This fic began as a set up to a *little piece of a scene* I wanted to write. But I became intrigued by what I imagine of the inner world of each of the characters, and the story became dear to me. Then the I-love-writing-Effie-all-soft-and-gorgeous-and-amazing factor came into play, and the story grew long — 9 mini chapters. So if you make it all the way through this, then wow. Thanks for caring about the characters to go the distance with me, and let me know if you have a guess about the *little piece of a scene* that inspired the full story.)

“Let’s keep this casual,” had been one of their agreements. “This is nobody’s business but ours,” had been another.

In the middle of the revolution, nobody noticed *them* anyway. No one paid attention when they’d ducked out in the middle of Finnick and Annie’s wedding reception, or when they’d eaten meals in the dining hall with their legs touching beneath the table. During their final days in 13, nobody thought anything of Haymitch returning to his quarters long after curfew nor wondered where he’d been.

The sex had been a welcomed distraction. Covertness and privacy effected an intimacy between them which was unexpected and surprisingly not terrifying.

When the revolution ended, secrecy became more complicated.

“Can you feed the geese this weekend?” Haymitch asked Peeta at least once a month, twice if he wanted to push it, which he usually did.

“Sure. Where are you going?” The question was getting harder to answer.

“Buying liquor. That white shit gets dull when there are other drinks in other places and no borders keeping me from them.” That standard response, though not untrue, was becoming less believable as the months passed and more people, supplies, and goods made their way to 12.

Eventually Peeta stopped asking Haymitch where he was going, though occasionally the boy mentioned having seen bourbon or some other whiskey at the reconstructed Hob. Among Peeta’s many qualities were his helpfulness and his unassuming capacity to mind his own business, even while observant.

Katniss, on the other hand, was resuming her former tendency to express opinions about whatever she observed. Haymitch never asked HER to feed the geese when he took the train to the Capitol.

He was attempting to mend a wire fence on the day Katniss approached him with an announcement. “We’ve invited Effie to visit this weekend.”

Haymitch narrowly missed hitting his thumb with the hammer. He covered his affectedness with sarcasm. “Sweetheart, it’s not wise to sneak up on me when I’m holding a weapon.”

“I can see how lethal you are to that fence. I don’t think the odds are in its favor.” Trauma had left Katniss with dark humor always ready on her tongue. She and Haymitch were similar in this regard. Their banter was biting, but their hearts had grown in mutual understanding, shared survival, and compassion for one another.

A goose approached Katniss, looking for a handout. “I’ve got nothing for you.”

“This fence will keep the odds in YOUR favor, otherwise you might lose a finger to these gals. They don’t like it when the neighbors show up without snacks.”

“Maybe that’s because you ask *the neighbors* to feed them so often.”

“Peeta doesn’t seem to mind, especially in exchange for eggs for those cakes he bakes.”

Katniss couldn’t argue with that. “He’s making one Saturday. Would you like to join us for supper?”

“Your guest will be there...” He sought confirmation without asking the question. He tried to sound light, as if he was talking about the walls or their sofas, not the person he’d been having sex with for months.

“She’ll be there.”

Haymitch tried to keep a straight face. Failing at that he returned his attention to the fence. “I do enjoy a moist cake.”

“I figured.” Katniss smirked. “...And bring a bottle, not a flask. As much as I care about Effie, her company is easier to enjoy with my brain slightly altered.”

I enjoy her more when I’m sober, he didn’t say. There’s no way in hell he’d admit that. But what’s a dinner party without liquor? It’s basically just walls and sofas. “A bottle,” he agreed.

“A FULL bottle — of something good.”

“So demanding,” he chuckled. It was comforting to see Katniss wanting to engage with life beyond Peeta and the woods.

“It’s a fair trade,” she said, “For the pleasure of the company.”

Since clearly she suspected too much, Haymitch changed the subject, “If you want to gab all afternoon, then how about you help me fix this fence.”

“You and your ‘weapon’ are on your own with that. I’ll see you Saturday.” The goose waddled after her, “And no freeloaders, or I’ll turn you into in a soup.”

“I don’t taste very good.” Haymitch joked.

“Certain people might disagree with that.”

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He hollered after her. Damn, those kids were too sharp to keep secrets from anymore.

His thoughts turned to Effie, and he tried to focus on the fence enough to avoid murdering his thumb.

***

Effie was on edge about returning to 12. Her last trip there had been before the third Quarter Quell, well over a year ago — a lifetime. She’d thrown up on the train that Reaping Day, unable to keep down her rising terror and disgust. It took every ounce of false positivity she’d cultivated throughout her life to do her job that day and pull her victors names from those glass balls. Katniss and Peeta had offered her more than validation of her own existence. They’d shown her the raw beauty that could come from unscripted humanity. They’d lifted the corner of a veil she couldn’t pull back over her eyes, no matter how hard she tried. It was almost like marrying death.

She’d worn butterflies to that reaping. Monarchs. Such a regal name for a creature transformed from a grub in a prison of its own making. She remembered the fleeting moment of relief she felt in pulling Haymitch’s name — relief that the slip of paper didn’t say ‘Peeta.’

What about now? She wondered. How would she feel now to be the agent of fate and injustice who sentenced people’s loved ones to their deaths? There would be no glamor or honor in that. Looking back, there never had been. How would she feel now pulling Haymitch’s name? Acid bubbled up her throat, and she sipped it down with water. Terror and disgust lived within the memory, same as the feelings she’d vomited up the last time on her way to 12.

This thing with Haymitch wasn’t casual for her. She hadn’t meant to feel so much. She wouldn’t give a name to the feelings. That wasn’t part of the deal. This intensity hadn’t been one of their agreements. She was haunted by the memory of pulling his name and haunted by that fleeting moment of relief. In the haunting, her feelings for him kept growing. It was unveiled madness, and she walked the edge in high heeled shoes. She’d never known any other way to walk. She missed Katniss and Peeta fiercely, and they’d invited her to their home. So she’d face 12, without wearing a mask.

There would be no lavish makeup or wigs, no corset of armor, nothing resembling the veiled self who’d pulled names from the Reaping Ball. She wouldn’t face 12 that way. People’s memories deserved more from her than ostentatiousness. Nothing black of course; she wasn’t in mourning. She’d never really known the dead. Soft orange and green were the best choices, the children’s favorite colors. Most people couldn’t pull off a green and orange outfit without resembling an enormous tulip, but Effie wasn’t most people.

As she smoothed her dress, awareness dawned. She rubbed her fingertips together, feeling the fabric covering her hands. Soft cotton. Is that really what she wanted to touch today? The question came because the answer was ‘no.’ She wanted textures beyond herself, even things that may be uncomfortable to touch, like sorrow. She peeled off her gloves, folded them neatly, and slipped them into her bag. “So beautiful. For another day.”

***

Peeta had pushed Katniss a bit for Effie’s visit. His strongest memories of her were colorful and warm, in contrast with the memories of his mother. When Effie had hugged him goodbye last winter, she’d held on until he was ready to let go. Not many people in his life had ever offered him that opportunity to be the one to stop hugging first. That’s the truth he reminded Katniss about when she initially rejected the idea of inviting Effie for the weekend.

Katniss’ mother hadn’t had the capacity to give her those kinds of hugs in the years since her father’s death, but Prim had held on a thousand fold. The ache of her sister’s absence was sharp. She would prefer endless Tracker Jacker stings to the pain of grief. At least their venom would put her to sleep. Grief was a nightmare she still couldn’t sleep through or wake up from.

Peeta grieved his family too, and part of his grief was for the closeness he hadn’t experienced with them when they were alive. Katniss held him when she thought in those terms. She held him until he was ready to let go. It was a simple gift to offer a person.

Effie still had truths to learn beyond the Capitol propaganda which had shaped her, but long ago someone had taught her the value of holding on. The lesson came from either that person’s presence or their absence. Katniss didn’t know which it was or who had been the teacher. Effie hadn’t shared her personal stories. Katniss was curious about her and empathetic for Peeta, so she agreed it was time to invite Effie to visit.

“Let’s meet her at the station,” she suggested, “It’ll be better that way. Different. This isn’t the Victors’ Village anymore. It’s our home.”

Every visit Effie made previously to those houses had been under force. She was an agent of the Capitol then. She had to be there, and they had to invite her in. There was no choice or celebration, despite Effie’s excessive use of “wonderful” as an exclamation.

“She’ll like that. ...She cried for us before the Quarter Quell... Real or not real?”

“Real. She was proud. She wanted something better for us.”

Peeta reached for Katniss’ hand, threaded their fingers together, and held on. “Then let’s show her what we have.”

Peeta had lost memories, but he hadn’t lost his capacity to find words so perfect that even Caesar would be envious.

***

After the train arrived, Haymitch watched the kids’ doorstep through the window of the guest room upstairs. It was either that or from the yard. A few weeks had passed since he’d seen her, and he didn’t want to wait until supper. Katniss and Peeta had been the ones to invite Effie to 12, which is more than he had done. If he invited her, then that would be opening the can of worms they were trying to keep closed. Right? And if there was one thing Effie hated, it was worms crawling all over the place. Real or metaphorical. She preferred containment or at least control when something was uncontainable.

Watching from inside would delay dealing with the lid on the can. But if the kids already knew he spent those Saturdays with Effie, then what did it mattter? It was nobody’s business but his and hers, but if the kids already knew, then they just knew. And if so, he could go out in the yard and kiss her, then the geese could eat any spilled worms, and the jig would be up.

But even if the kids knew, then Effie didn’t know that they knew. And it would probably be better for her to hear it from them than from him because he had no interest in sitting through a dinner party with her pissed at him. Sex with her angry was great, but sitting on sofas in awkward conversation with her fuming at him for revealing their connection didn’t sound like a desirable evening.

So he watched through a rip in the sheet covering the window as the kids walked with her from the station. Effie’s arm was wrapped around Katniss, holding her loosely at the waist. Haymitch and Effie had talked before about burns and how the pain could linger a long time in new skin. Effie was gentle. He knew that better than anyone. Katniss held Effie’s waist too, so the kid must be feeling okay with the connection. Peeta and Effie chatted as he rolled her bag behind him. Haymitch might have thought to open the window to hear their conversation, but it was too late now. Besides, this was already more spying than he felt comfortable doing.

Mostly he just wanted to see her, and the bit of subterfuge was worth it. She was different. Her hair was soft, real, pulled back in some sort of twist. He’d never seen this dress before. The top was orange, but not bright like the fruit. It was like rainbow sherbet melted in a bowl: orange, pink, and white blended together. In the former days of the Capitol, melted ice cream would have gone to waste. But he would drink her up if he could. Her neck, her collarbones, her shoulders, everything her clothes didn’t touch. A dark green band circled her waist, and below it the fabric changed as it hugged from her hips to her knees. The green was covered in tiny flowers, mostly the color of the melted sherbet and also pink, gold, purple, and yellow-green scattered here and there. The flowers laid on top of the dress rather than being part of the fabric itself. He didn’t have the right words to describe it. Just gorgeous. She could have anyone. Anyone would have her if they could. And for at least the hundredth time he wondered what this goddess was doing with a drunk like him.

She turned her head toward his porch and smiled before stepping inside the kids’ house. Before joining them for supper, he needed a shower. A cold one would be best.

***

Effie shivered on the short walk from the station. She was dressed for late summer, but fall was already in the air in 12. The air was changed, permeated by fragrances of the adjacent forest instead of the coal mines. Not enough people had returned for that industry to resume. Reconstruction was slow, and the nation was relying on other sources for fuel. Effie breathed in deeply, surprised by the scents of life. Human bones, charred and weathered a year, had lost the smell of rotting flesh. They smelled like nothing, which was a relief and a strange sadness. She knew thousands of corpses were there, but she didn’t look. She knew her limits. Bearing witness to such death would have been too much.

She was grateful for the children’s hugs and for the warmth of their home. The place had looked cold when she’d seen it last, almost not lived in. But now it was alive, with scuffs on the furniture and food in the oven. Katniss brewed tea from mint leaves she gathered in the woods, and Peeta brought a plate of cookies to the coffee table. Effie’s stomach was not settled enough yet to eat, but she felt welcomed there. The three of them sat on the sofas for conversation.

Katniss curled up her knees, and Peeta leaned toward her with unconscious familiarity. This was their life now — her victors. Tears pooled in Effie’s eyes, and she let one spill over without wiping it away.

“Effie?” Peeta worried.

“I’m so relieved. So relieved to see you both looking well.”

Wellness is a relative concept. When she’d last seen them several months ago, Peeta had little between his skin and his bones. Most of Katniss’ skin was burned, and she’d grown thin from protracted stress. They were healing now as best as they could and filling out into their adult selves.

“We feed each other.” Katniss was straightforward. “That helps.”

Peeta brushed her palm with his fingertips. Satiation is a relative concept too. There were many hungers, unfolding with time.

“This peace helps,” he said, “It makes it easier to quiet the voices inside.”

Katniss curled her fingers around his. This was still their way — protecting each other. Back and forth, exchanging breath.

Effie finally wiped away the tear. Peace was something she felt far from in her inner life. “It’s quiet here, aside from the construction equipment down the road... and the geese next door.”

“The geese are decent neighbors.” Peeta had developed a fondness for them. “They only get riled up around feeding time.”

Katniss looked to her bow and quiver of arrows by the door. “If Haymitch had decided to raise chickens, I can assure you the roosters wouldn’t have lasted long.”

Effie snickered. “Haymitch probably would have had to buy back his dead roosters at the Hob.”

“Exactly.”

“His mother raised geese,” Effie added, “So the choice makes sense. There are different ways to find peace. He only talks about his family when he’s been drinking. It’s probably easier that way. They were close. 26 years is a long time, but some wounds are too deep for time to heal.”

Katniss and Peeta glanced at each other. Effie’s words were telling — full of intimacy and introspection.

“Oh, my darlings. I’m sorry. Here I am going on about grief when the two of you already understand better than I ever will.”

“There’s no need to apologize...” Peeta began.

“...Snow taught us all grief.” Katniss finished the thought.

Effie sighed. “I’m so proud of you both. I recognize I have no right to be, but still I am.”

“You’ve always been supportive of us. Anyone can see that. Without you and Haymitch securing sponsors, we wouldn’t have even survived the Games.”

“Dear boy, you are too kind.”

“He’s honest.” Katniss agreed simply.

The tea had cooled enough to drink, and Effie sipped hers, tasting a bit of their life here. The flavor was good.

***

Haymitch hadn’t asked when supper would be ready. That gave him the flexibility to show up whenever he wanted. He figured they’d spend at least an hour saying things he already knew about all of them. Waiting an hour should be good.

Unfortunately an hour gave him too much time to think about things he didn’t like to think about... What clothes to wear to look good, but not so good that it was obvious he’d thought about what clothes to wear to look good... Which liquor was tasty enough to share but not so tasty that he didn’t want to share it... What time the clock read.

He kicked himself for watching the clock, then he watched the clock again, then kicked himself again, and so on. All the while, he didn’t drink because he wanted to show up sober, and hold her waist sober, and kiss her sober when the kids were distracted. Then he wanted to drink with her and watch her cheeks turn pink and wait for her to touch him in some inconspicuous way that he would feel but nobody else would see.

It was a long hour.

***

“I invited Haymitch to supper,” Katniss said in response to the knock at the door.

“Wonderful!” Effie replied in a rehearsed way that masked however she actually felt about it.

As Peeta shifted to stand, she interrupted. “I’ll get it. I’ve been sitting all day.”

The kids watched her straighten her dress and tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear before opening the door.

Haymitch greeted her at the doorstep with a basket in one hand, a bottle of liquor in the other, and a smile big enough to show the gap between his teeth, which she was eager to caress with her tongue.

“It’s good to see you, sweetheart.” he leaned in, kissed the soft patch below her ear, and whispered, “You look incredible.”

She pressed her hand to the tender spot below his sternum. Her touch was reflexive. Their knowing each other’s bodies was difficult to conceal. “I’m glad to see you too.” She loved this particular shirt, grey and form-fitting. She wanted to touch more than his stomach, but she’d already lingered too long, so she pulled away reluctantly. “Come in! Come in before the flies do!”

Haymitch moved toward the sofa before the kids had a chance to get up. “Presents...” He handed Peeta the basket of eggs, and Katniss got the brandy. He lowered his voice, “A full bottle... as requested.”

“Thanks, Haymitch.” and “Perfect.”

“Katniss, I’ll put these away,” Peeta suggested, “And let’s get some glasses.”

Katniss was more interested in what was going on between Haymitch and Effie.

“Hey.” Peeta cocked his head in the direction of the kitchen.

She acquiesced. “Make yourselves comfortable. We’ll be back.”

The moment the kids left the room, Haymitch wrapped his arms around Effie’s waist and kissed her without hesitation or slowness. She responded in kind with her tongue sliding along his teeth, then tasting more deeply. Her hands played over his chest to the hollow between his collarbones where she stroked just once, gently, so gently.

“Jesus, Effie,” he murmured, “You feel...”

No word was enough, so he kissed from her neck along her jaw. Her skin was smooth with so little makeup. He drank her in like melted rainbow sherbet.

“Haymitch...” She was almost too breathless to protest. “We should stop. The children are just in the kitchen.”

“They said to make ourselves comfortable.” He pulled her hips close.

“‘Make yourselves comfortable’ does not translate to ‘Fuck in our living room.’” Her whisper flooded him with desire for exactly that.

“It does in my house.”

“Then how about if I slip over there later for that translation.” She kissed him once more then ran her thumb across his lips to wipe away remnants of her lipstick.

“I’d love to *translate* the fuck out of you, honey.” He adjusted the neckline of her dress which had slipped sideways and was showing a sliver of her bra. “No corset today.”

She shook her head ‘no.’

“Thank god.”

He pulled her to the sofa and sat beside her, close but not too close. “Respectable?”

“We’ll see.” Beneath the coffee table she rested the toe of her stiletto against his boot. They fit together in a way that she could feel so strongly but didn’t yet understand.

***

“Are they done making out in there, or should I drink this brandy in the kitchen?”

“Shhh.” Peeta listened. “Give them a few minutes. What if we hadn’t seen each other in three weeks? Imagine how we’d be feeling.”

“Point taken.” Katniss was still barely able to let Peeta out of her sight. His presence was one of the things keeping her sane. “But this is ridiculous. Why don’t we just tell them that we know?”

“Maybe they don’t want to know that we know. We should let them tell us when they’re ready.”

“Shhh,” she said this time. “I think I hear them talking about Effie’s work.”

“Then lets bring in the drinks.”

“Quickly before they change topics and have sex on our couch.”

“Katniss, they wouldn’t...”

She rolled her eyes.

“Okay. They would. Let’s go.”

***

“...And Paylor’s on board?”

“The president is supportive.” Effie affirmed, “She’ll bring the proposal before Congress when they’re in session.”

“On board with what?” Katniss asked as she opened the bottle of brandy, and Peeta set the glasses on the coffee table.

“If all goes as planned there will be sites in each district designated as national memorials and a memorial museum in the Capitol.”

“Congress isn’t even in session. How did you secure an advocate?” Haymitch asked.

“Several Senators and Representatives are interested. Cressida and Pollux contributed footage of destruction in the districts and filmed the proposal. Since she refused payment, I made a donation to the film she’s producing. The Trinkets don’t have deep pockets, but we have enough. And considering everything Cressida has done for us. For all of us...” Effie’s eyes held tears like old glass — solid fluidity.

“Would you like a drink, sweetheart?”

“I still have my tea.”

Haymitch poured brandy for Katniss and himself. “Peeta?”

“Not yet, thanks.”

Haymitch took a cookie from the plate, dunked it in the brandy, and ate it in two bites.

“And of course they wouldn’t give the proposal coming from me a skerrick of attention if it weren’t for you...” She looked at Katniss and Peeta. ...My victors, she didn’t say the words, but they spilled onto her cheeks.

Haymitch slid his hand between the sofa and her back, drawing circles at the base of her spine, offering her this small comfort and pleasure.

“This work will mean so much to the country, Effie.” Peeta assured her.

“It’s wonderful that you’re involved with this. I had no idea...” Katniss glared then at Haymitch, “You tell me nothing. Still!”

“I told you if you want to gab, then help me fix my fence.”

“That’s extortion.” She grinned.

Effie reached for Haymitch’s glass and took a sip. She did it absentmindedly, as if sharing a glass was a common occurrence.

The kids noticed.

The next time Haymitch picked up the glass, he turned it and drank from the spot where Effie’s lipstick had left a mark. It was an act of unmistakable intimacy, almost communion.

Katniss bit her tongue. Whatever was going on between those two was serious. It occurred to her that maybe they weren’t talking about it because maybe they didn’t know yet what it was.

Her own awareness of love wasn’t unfolding all at once. It was like a primrose opening to the sun, each petal, bit by bit. So why expect someone else’s awareness to be any way other than that?

The brandy was delicious. Katniss drank in contentment rather than to dull an annoyance. Right now, there was no annoyance. Her family was here. Even the ones who weren’t here she felt as more than persistent echoes. She felt them in the flowers appliquéd on Effie’s dress.

“Primroses.” Katniss realized. “Are you wearing them for us?”

“Yes, my dear.”

Haymitch’s hand stilled on Effie’s back. She was remarkable. He had no idea how they were going to keep this casual, when it was already so much more. He had no idea how they were going to keep this private when their feelings were so close to the surface and already running so deep.

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chicagocityofclans · 3 years

Photo

Gendry Kingsley → Matt Smith → Witch

→ Basic Information

Age: 1435

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Pansexual/Demisexual

Powers: Archive

Birthday: 14th October

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Religion: Druidry

Mark: Whilem

Generation: 2nd

→ His Personality

There are some that would consider Gendry mad, a thought that is only likely to be solidified when they learn of his power and age. It is not uncommon for Archives to go mad with the amount of knowledge their minds contain you see. In Gendry this conclusion may be drawn from his habit of disappearing for days at a time, his tendency randomly jump topics in conversations, the fact he is often talking to himself or inanimate objects and that he seems to be ‘away with the fairies’ half the time. It’s hard to know what’s going on in his head but usually there is method to the madness as they say.

He is at heart though a kind man, a wise teacher and a storyteller. Friendships aren’t something he goes out of his way to form very often anymore but to those who stick around he tends to form a loyal bond to. They might not hear from him for a while but then out of the blue they’ll receive an invite to dinner like he hasn’t been gone at all. Sometimes these absences are as a result of travel plans he decided on last minuet or forgot to tell anyone about, other times he is simply studying or writing and completely lost to the world in the process.

Frequently he forgets that not everyone knows as much as he does and thus doesn’t often explain himself, presuming the other person will understand what he is going on about. He also has a tendency to start talking half way through a conversation, not realizing he’d been having the first part of it with himself in his head. The level at which this happens depends on the day. Somedays his mind is a whirlwind of information making it hard for him to see the wood for the trees, other days are much calmer and it is far easier for him to have cohesive conversations with people. As a result it can take a good deal of patients to be friends with him at times.

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Records keeper, Mentor and Master Craftsman

Scars: A few

Tattoos: A triquetra on his right side & a triskelion on his left side

Two Likes: home grown fruit & rain storms

Two Dislikes: microwave ovens & shell fish

Two Fears: loosing his mind completely & knowledge projection

Two Hobbies: Cooking & book binding

Three Positive Traits: curious, cheerful & loyal

Three Negative Traits: chaotic, obsessive & vague

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Tobias Wilhelm (Father): Gendry didn’t know his father for the first years of his life. In fact he didn’t meet him until he was taken away from his mother by an uncle to be raised by the Wilhelms. He tried to like Tobias but the man always seemed ashamed of Gendry, or perhaps ashamed of what he’d done. Either way their relationship was never very strong.

Gwen (Mother): She was the daughter of a travelling bard, a strong first generation witch of an unknown mark and she instilled her love of story telling in her son. Though her life was not easy, being shunned by her father after having Gendry out of wedlock, she cared for him the very best she could. That was until a Wilhelm first generation found them and took Gendry away from her.

Sibling Names:

Unknown: He didn’t keep in contact with his father and so isn’t sure if he had any more children.

Children Names:

Gwendolyn Kingsley (Daughter): Gwen inherited her mothers adventurous spirit and has moved around most of her life finding new mentors all over the world. In her youth Gendry was careful to keep her out of the reach of their family but now trusts her well enough to let her make her own choices. She like him doesn’t like many of the things they do and has made her own mind up to stay clear of them. They have a very strong relationship and visit each other often. At present she is mentoring in New Zealand.

Romantic Connections:

Ada Kingsley (Wife/deceased): Ada was a free spirit who spent most of her time outdoors in nature. They were an unlikely pair but when their friendship was formed it quickly became something more. Gendry turned his back on the wishes of his family to marry her and has no regrets about it.

Platonic Connections:

Emmett Wilhelm (Wilhelm Family): It was clear to Gendry from the first moment he met him that he wasn’t like the main faction of their family. In his eyes this was an extremely good thing. It wasn’t long before Gendry thought of him as family, not just as someone whom he shared a mark with but as true family.

Lyla Wilhelm (Wilhelm Family): Gendry took to Lyla instantly, liking her disposition and appreciating her interests. He also think she and Emmett make a really rather lovely couple.

Audo Wilhelm (Uncle): Audo was clearly unsure of Gendry at first and he understood why so he didn’t push the relationship. Instead he let the younger man come to his own conclusion about it. Since he did they have been on good terms.

Maya ‘Flower’ Hanes (Wilhelm Family): Gendry doesn’t know Maya all that well but would be happy to get to know this other member of their extensive family.

Amberlynn ‘Amber’ Chase (Wilhelm Family): Amber was introduced to him by her mother when she first moved to the city. In the years since then Gendry has started to see Amber as a niece.

Ronan Cleirigh (Old Friend): The very first time they met is a little foggy in Gendry’s memory but he does know it was some time in their youth and that he is one of his oldest friends, if not his oldest. Sometimes they have gone almost a century without seeing each other but always manage to pick up right where they left off.

Averill Sookram (Old Friend): Averill and Gendry might seem like an odd pair but they hit it off from the first time they met and have been friends ever since. They have a running joke about which one of them will be the one to disappear for a few weeks without telling anyone next.

Eric Lasiter (Old Friend): Gendry was introduced to Eric when he first became a mentee of Ronan’s and a friendship naturally formed between them.

Brighton ‘Bee’ Genesis (Old Friend): Gendry met Bee when he was first mentoring with Ronan and they quite quickly became friends.

Roman Clerigh (Friend): Gendry first met Roman the way he met most of the Clerigh’s he knows - through Ronan. They became friends easily and have remained so since. He also credits Roman with saving his daughters life when she was born.

Judson Clerigh (Former Mentee/Friend): Gendry met Judson through Ronan and they instantly hit it off. So much so that when Judson asked if he could mentor with Gendry the elder witch happily said yes. It has been many years since he has been Gendry’s mentee but they still have a good friendship.

Ethan Clerigh (Former Mentee/Friend): Ethan is another former mentee that Gendry first met through Ronan. During those training years the two developed a friendship that is still going strong today.

Kady Gaines (Former Mentee): Kady is one of the few archives Gendry has mentored over the course of his life. He found it very rewarding teaching one of his own and is immensely proud of her for being a mentor now herself.

Hostile Connections:

Some of the Wilhelm Family (Disapproves/ Distrusts): Gendry doesn’t like many of the ways the family has operated over the years and has taken measures to distance himself from those who would like to see it continue as it has been.

Pets:

Gus: A ginger cat who is as likely to come and go as his owner. He’ll disappear for a week or two but always comes home eventually.

→ History

Gendry was never meant to happen. His parents weren’t married and were never likely to be. His mother was a beautiful, 1st generation witch but her mark was unknown, and she wasn’t considered a good match. This didn’t stop Tobias falling for her when he met her whilst travelling in Britain. For a while he stayed with her and her father, travelling round castles where they performed their songs and poems. Tobias loved listening to her but the longer he was away the more his family tried to pull him back. Eventually they won and one day he just woke up and left. When he did so he had no idea that Gwen was pregnant.

Years later he heard rumours of a pretty witch, with a beautiful voice travelling round Britain with her son who bared a 2nd generation Wilhelm mark. In his shock he told one of his siblings of his suspicion that he was the boys father. A few weeks later he found the boy, Gendry, had been brought to the family home to be raised amongst Wilhelm blood.

Those first years of his life spent with his mother are treasured memories for Gendry. They weren’t well off, struggling to get by for many years as Gwen was disowned by her father when he discovered she was pregnant. After a number of years though she started to gain a name for herself as a bard in her own right. Mother and son travelled the countryside visiting many castles and villages. Gendry loved learning all the tales, the songs and the poems his mother knew. He dreamed of one day telling them along side her. That was all cute short when his uncle came to take him away. Gwen put up a fight but in the end she simply wasn’t strong enough.

His magical training began straight away. No proper magic at first, just learning about their world. He absorbed all they taught him with remarkable speed so they started to test him, giving him scroll after scroll to learn. It wasn’t long before they knew for certain he was an archive. The training that then followed was heavily weighted in marks and family lineage as they groomed him to work in that area when he was old enough.

At first Gendry didn’t mind this, he loved learning about it all. Slowly though he started to see traditions and attitudes within the family that he didn’t like. The more he learnt the more his own views started to differ with theirs. As he grew older he took every opportunity to wander away from them that he could, meeting witches and warlocks of other marks, and reading things that hadn’t been given to him by the family. He then started to work on convincing them to let him mentor outside of the family, getting his wish before long. The argument that finally won it for him was his desire to train to be a Master Craftsman. So they allowed him to go off into the world, finding the best mentors he could to learn from. Once that had happened though, he never really went back to them. Especially after they forbid him from marrying the woman he loved.

Ada and he left his family far behind, seeking out the company of his friends instead. With them Gendry started to feel what family truly should be and more than once caught himself wishing he was a Clerigh instead. By this time he was already becoming a little chaotic, his mind so full of all the knowledge he’d learnt but they accepted him just as he was. It wasn’t long before Ada announced she was pregnant. He didn’t think he could be happier but that wasn’t going to last. His bubble was shattered the day Ada gave birth to their daughter. She was on one of her long walks she still insisted on taking even in her condition when she went into labour. Perhaps most women would have made it giving birth out there alone but Ada had the gift of aquakinesis and was prone to hemophilia and dehydration. It proved a deadly combination. Gendry heard the news from Roman after Ada’s ghost had appeared to him begging him to save her daughter. It almost broke him and the only things that stopped him burying himself in books and studying was that little baby girl and his friends. He loved his daughter from the first moment he held her and decided to name her after his own mother.

He kept Gwendolyn close to him through her upbringing, keeping a good distance between her and the Wilhelm family. She grew up to be as strong willed and adventurous as her mother, and with a love of music like his mother. They have always been very close, even after she flew the nest to find mentors of her own.

Since then he has lived alone, often in towns or cities where he had friends. He finds having them close helps him from getting too lost in his own mind or research. He has also had a continues stream of mentees but never more than a couple at a time. Teacher has always been one of his greatest joys but he is aware that too many at once would likely end in confusion for all involved.

His last moved was to Chicago just over a few hundred years ago. On moving he started to build a home for himself, to continue mentoring and to do more work as a Master Craftsman. He was also pleased to find that he wasn’t the only Wilhelm that didn’t agree with the old order, something he discovered when Emmett, Lyla and Audo moved to town.

→ The Present

Gendry still considers Chicago home, even though he often travels away for short periods of time. He is currently without mentees and has been spending time working on his library - expanding it in both the works it contains and in it’s physical size. He’s aware his mind is more chaotic than it used to be but has come to accept that that is who he is now. He’s just grateful that at the moment it seems his friends can accept that too. Looking to the future he would love to take on a mentee or two again, as well as continue to bridge connections with those of the Wilhelm mark that don’t hold with the old way of doing things.

#Taken #Gendry Kingsley #Matt Smith

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thoughts-n-paper · 3 years

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When people speak of fairies, they often think of the wise fairy Godmother or the tiny passionate Tinkerbell, but let me tell you the truth, fairies can be as vicious as any wolf you might encounter in the woods. Take my mother, for example, I am about to fail a class and might not be able to graduate but here she is shouting at the principal, questioning his competency and making things worse. To be honest, I should have known this would happen. Ever since I was a toddler, my mother was ready to fight the Alaskan giants if she felt that they insulted me, although that seems a lot better than calling the man, an imbecile elf.

I had never been good at school, I was not born to do this. I cannot do magic, cannot fly. I do comparatively good at empathy, but that is probably due to my human side. All my teachers earlier were very understanding in cutting me some slack, but the new guy doesn't want to bend the rules and my mom just doesn't understand that.

As we entered the house from a tiresome argument with no conclusion, I watched my mom sink in her bed as she tried to push her tears back to space behind her eyes. On the side table there stood three photographs, one of her with her husband on her wedding day, one of her holding her baby and one of me and her on my first day of school. The one with her baby was the only one facing towards her pillow so that it is the first thing she sees when she opens her eyes. I was never jealous of him, but I did feel that my mother's life would have been easier if she never interchanged us.

I wound up the music box, placed it beside her and tiptoed to my room as the lullabies of her ancestors brought her calm.

I often wondered what the other me would be doing right now, my brother from another mother and raised by my own. And just in case, miles away he wondered that too, I started keeping a journal where I would write everything that happened on the day. I would walk him through every road that I mapped, what conversations mother and I had and what kind of jokes she laughed at. Just in case if he ever plans to return, he would never have to feel out of place because he had me to guide him, and just in case if I ever went back, I think I would have the same.

A knock broke my nap. As I looked outside the tiny round window, I could make out the prettiest face I had ever seen. We were in the same class but it was incomprehensible that she would be standing outside my window. And then it hit me, I looked her in the eyes and said firmly, "You don't fool me."

"Not fair. I need to practice my deception spells." saying that, the figure in front of me transformed into my childhood friend, Jaadu. One of the rules of bending spells, if the target of the trick sees through the rouge, the trickster has to come clean.

"It was good. If not for my trust in my status as a loser, you would have convinced me."

"Ah! I should study the target more. Will keep that in mind. Are you coming?"

Jaadu and I always went to the edge of the forest in the evenings. With the sun coming down and night beginning to rise, you can watch the shadows of all the travellers passing by. Some of them would sit and have their meal or set up camp, completely unaware that we are hiding behind the tree mere steps away, watching them. But the most exciting moment is when you see someone go from one realm to another. Sometimes you can see their shadow change shape or colour or sometimes nothing changes, it is always a surprise how the inter-realm travel reacts.

Jaadu enjoys it because it is something he might never do, he was to be part of the administration, like the fairies of his family before him. This was his way to vicariously travel through these evening rituals.

For me, it was the time I had felt closest to my mother. Although her husband was a traveller, she only planned one journey in her life. The one to save her baby.

In a way I had already travelled from one realm to another, I was just unaware of the magnitude of it. I sometimes think of going back, maybe visit my birth parents, might even bring my mother's son back. She would be delighted beyond belief, and maybe then, she wouldn't regret taking him. But I would always push the thought back, too afraid of the unknown.

The next few weeks were spent retaking and retaking the test until I was cleared to graduate school. There are three categories of fairies, one that is naturally gifted in all arts, whether it is music, the science of medicinal plants or chants and jinxes, they are fluent in all. Then there is the average category, the ones that work hard and learn and the last are the week students, ones who work even harder. And then there is me, the human among magical beings. I am the only one around like me, earlier there used to be a lot of us but with the danger of exposure and the spiritual fabric between realms weakening, it is just me. Potions are easy and I am good with plants and animals but I can't cast spells, at least not the high-level ones. So, it took a lot of convincing the new principal to test me only on the spells that I can do, but I finally succeeded.

Later that night, my mother organized a celebration for me, every house within a mile was invited, distant relatives came too. Some families brought a dish of their choice, some helped clean up space and some brought with them the sweetest water of different streams. But with all the gifts and praises, come the whispers too, how I was not one of them, what an achievement the real son would have been. When I was younger, my mother would often cast a filtration spell on my ears so that I wouldn't hear what they said about me but as I grew older, the spell weakened. She never herself told me the story, would always insist that I was hers just born with different abilities or as I see it, no abilities.

From what I could gather, my mother was with the child when her husband died. The grief was too much for her and the baby and so he was born with defects. A shaman told her that the milk of a human could cure him and so she left him in the first crib she could find and took me from mine as her own.

"Oh my son, come sit with me." my great-grandmother called me."How are you feeling? You are a big fairy now?"

"I am not a fairy Gre-ma." I sighed as I sat beside her.

"Oh, it doesn't matter what elements bind you. Tell me, Elven, how, do you think, is your mother?"

"She seems fine. I think she is alright."

"She is strong, but separation and loneliness often mould us into something much fragile. She has lights of sorrow surrounding her, you must make her happy. Bring her joy before the black lights swallow her."

After the celebration ended, I kept thinking about the words my Gre-ma said to me. She was the most powerful empath in the town, nobody could dare take her words lightly, especially if she said something like that. This was serious, I had to do something to cure my mother.

The next day, when I and Jaadu were sitting in the woods, relaxing as the shadows disappeared around us, I told him what Gre-ma had asked me to do. "Getting a good position in the council would cure all the sorrows of my mother." Jaadu joked.

"I am afraid, that doesn't work for mine."

"I know! My point is, only you know what will make her happy."

I thought about it for a while and by the next morning, I had an idea of what to do. I made up an overnight camping trip with some friends from school, which in retrospect, how mother agreed or believed any of that is beyond me. I checked in my bag to confirm I had the fairy dust with me that Gre-ma had given me the other night, without it, I would not be able to cross over. The plan was simple, follow the map she used years earlier and just knock on the door. Jaadu came to see me off, he wanted to see how my shadow will react.

I, on the other hand, just felt a slight current run through me, and on the next step, everything changed.

It took me at least five minutes of coughing to get used to the air around me. The map was magical, which meant that it would alter according to the destination desired and the time and space which surrounded it. But there still was no magic that can help me introduce myself to my birth parents or tell me how I am supposed to walk when each step is followed by a loud noise and a beast flying past me in a blink of an eye. The first thing I noticed was humans were tall, back in woodland, I was the tallest there, here I barely come up to the shoulders of some of these giants. And they all had different feet, different colours, shapes and textures. And walking for a few feet made me understand why. After walking a small distance, my feet were coloured black, they were damp and a new pink coloured flower had found a way between my toes and was now stuck to my skin. But ignoring it all, I marched ahead.

A few yards away stood the blue gate I had dreaded all through the journey, a million thoughts ran through my mind with each step till I lifted my arm to knock.

I looked around the house as I waited for them to make sense of everything that I had just finished telling them. Surprisingly, it was not that different from my house. it was filled with photographs except for the giant black frame in the middle of the room, which stood empty. Lamps were hanging from the walls, but there was probably some human magic that made it not look like fire. There weren't as many windows, or plants, outside or inside. We all sat on cloud-like cushions with brown milk in front of me.

When I introduced myself, I showed them my infancy photograph which my mother had taken with her. Then I told them about fairies and woodlands. I told them about magic and music, potions and pirouette. And then I told them about my mother, my fairy mother.

"So, you are ours?"

I nodded.

"And, you were kidnapped?"

"Exchanged!" I nodded

."And you live among fairies?"

I nodded.

"And, our son was a fairy?"

I began to nod and then stopped midway, "was?"

"He died ten years ago. Road accident." said the human mother and started sobbing.

My father stood up and came towards me with open arms, "We want to believe you, but we can't, at least not without tests I hope that is alright with you."

"Oh, I can't stay. I just came to take my mother's son back to meet her. I really should go now."

"NO!" my human mother shouted and holding my shoulders requested me to stay.

"I suppose I could stay for another day."

"Wonderful!" the mother smiled and ran to the kitchen mumbling recipes to herself. "She is going to make his favourite food," Father said to me. His eyes followed me suspiciously as I sat back down in my spot.

"Hey Dorothy, Can you do me-." A stranger walked into the house and stopped mid-sentence to stare back at me. "Family member?" she said while pointing at me.

"How can you tell?" mother came out of the kitchen.

"Well, he looks so much like Steve."

"Doesn't he?"

"Well, let's not get ahead of ourselves. We still have to run tests."

"What do you mean, Steve?"

"Yes, what do you mean, Steve?"

"Uhm, I am just saying..."

"Wait, but who is he?"

"Oh! It's a miracle from Jesus. My son has returned."

"Jesus! Dorothy, honey."

"Your son, the one whose funeral I helped organize."

"No, you see, he was exchanged, Uhm kidnapped."

"Jesus! Dorothy!"

"And now he is back, back at home."

Finally, silence fell. I looked up and all three were staring at me. "Hello," I said in a low voice. "I come from the woodlands. My mother who is a fairy..."

"Well, he is still processing his trauma." Father interrupted me. "Don't worry, we will have him checked shortly." Saying that he led me upstairs to a closed-door with the picture of a masked man on the door.

"This is your room. I will call you when food is prepared."

I had just turned back to stop him, he shut the door to my face. I tried to open it but it seemed locked from outside. I sat down on the small bed, trying to process whatever happened in the last few minutes. And then I remembered the word funeral being uttered. Their son's funeral.

My mother's son. The one I came to take back with me.

I had to get out immediately.

I stood in front of the door and chanted a simple admission spell. I tried to open the door again but it stayed locked. I tried the spell again, but it was all in vain. Casting spells in a new environment is always difficult, even for skilled casters. You have to be able to borrow magic from your surroundings. Often before any major spell, fairies perform cleansing and calming rituals to make the elements around them aware of their intentions, and once the fairies and every particle around them are in agreement can they cast the spells successfully. I did not know anything about those rituals, nor have I ever performed magic in an unaccustomed environment. Being human and bad at magic did not help either.

I sat back on the bed and waited for the door to open from outside. I looked around the room, there stood various balls of different colours all around the room, on a shelf placed in the corner, there were several miniatures beasts like the ones I encountered on my way. On the walls, there were drawings of different humans in various attires and figurines made of cotton and stone of different animals. I lied down and my eyes sparkled as on the roof I could see the sun and the moon and all the stars that the roof could fit, it was the only thing that reminded me of home. I could look at it for hours like I did back in the woodland, I smiled at the memories, glad that I could find at least one familiar thing.

A few hours later, the father came rushing in and closed the door behind him.

"Hey, buddy! There are a few people who want to meet with you. They are super nice and very friendly. They will ask you some questions. You don't have to worry, just nod when I answer those okay?" It was a question he did not wait for an answer to. I was held from my arms and pushed into the front room. There stood the two women from earlier, a man with an unusually shaped head and another woman with a toy in her hands. They all had their mouths in a curve and their teeth were exposed, I think they were trying to smile. The father sat me down and placed himself beside me.

The woman nodded and pushed the toy towards me.

"Hello, I hope you don't mind introducing yourself once again. Your father had already told me about you."

"Uh...my name is Elven."

"His name is Simon. He thinks his name is Elven and he was kidnapped by fairies. He is still recovering from the incident." The father interjected.

"Okay." The woman looked at the man and then back towards us. "Can you elaborate on the fairies that abducted you?"

I looked at the father he gestured me to go ahead. "I wasn't abducted, I was exchanged. My mother, my fairy mother gave birth to a weakling which could only be saved by human milk."

"We believe that the kidnapper left her disabled child with us in hopes to raise a healthier child, obviously for her benefit." The father looked towards the woman, and they both nodded. Like they agreed to not believe anything I said.

"Do you think drugs were involved?" The man asked the father.

"Well, listening to the absurdity, I am certain that the woman herself took drugs and gave my son some too. That seems to be the only explanation for his conviction."

They kept saying the word "Drugs", I didn't know what it meant, but I could conclude that it was bad. And if they think my mother gave them to me, they would never let me go back to her.

"Look," I stood up, "I should go, my mother would be worried."

"I think that should be enough for today, I will answer the rest of the questions." The father said as he directed the mother to take me.

"Oh, just a picture of the family would be great." The woman stopped me and the mother.

All three of us stood side by side as the man took out a small metal from his pocket and a light flashed towards us. I couldn't see for a while but I could feel being steered somewhere.

I was sitting on the tiny bed again, while my human mother was sobbing with her head in my lap. I looked up at the painted night sky and dreamed of the real one.

The next day I woke up to the sound of a crowd of humans in front of the house. A lot of them were holding the same toy as the day before, some had big boxes on their shoulders and behind them was a long queue of the white beasts. The father came in with a gentle smile and said, "Son, how are you? Breakfast is ready. And you remember yesterday, the people in the front have the same questions. Whenever you are ready, we will talk to them. Is that alright?"

I could simply nod. It was very clear that I did not have any choice in that.

The mother came in afterwards and asked me to take a bath, but when I asked for the stream nearby, she started crying again. The father came in and showed me to another room where twisting on a knob I could make it rain inside. He laid down a drying cloth, top and bottom covers and coverings for my feet. It was a strange feeling to not have my feet touch the earth. For fairies, it the only consistent relationship between them and the ground. Although it did feel better to not have my feet be dirty or cold. For breakfast the only thing that looked familiar was fruit, so I picked a red apple and bit into that, while the father and mother stood in front of the black frame, only this time it had a man talking in it.

"We have something like that in woodland too, motion paintings. It is a very complex spell though. My mother's uncle is famous as the most proficient in a 1000 step radius."

They both looked at me and the mother ran out of the room looking like she was about to burst into tears again.

"Hey, why don't we stop talking about woodland in front of mom." He gave me that non-smile again.

The whole day was just sitting in front of strangers and nod as the father told lies. And every time I tried to stop him or correct him, it was blamed on trauma, another word they kept on repeating. According to them, I had a trauma because of drugs and my mother was a criminal and she should be locked up. I did not most of the words in that sentence. They asked me to do magic to prove my story but when I failed, they simply smiled. When I first showed them my journal, they scanned through it within minutes and gave it back to the father. Mid-way through the day, I gave up. I might have been naïve in the human ways but I knew what a lost battle looked like.

They kept asking to take a picture, after a few I gathered they were just still drawings of us. Out of the corner of my eye, I would often catch someone pointing at me and chuckling with his or her friend. The mother spent most of the time crying and repeating that she was just glad to have her son back and she loved the other one too just like her own. In between taking pictures and answering questions, some would come up to me or the father and offer their condolences.

Everything resembled the kind of community I had left in woodland, but that was all it was, a resemblance, a mirror image. People offered help and sympathy but always from a distance. Some neighbours brought their children in hopes I could make friends with them but whenever I tried to talk to them, they pushed me out of the circle and talked amongst themselves, mostly in gibberish I might add.

I missed my mother, I missed Jaadu and Gre-ma. I missed the smell of freshly bloomed flowers in the morning and the lullabies of the moon as it sang us to sleep. Out here all I could smell was something burning, constantly. The food was like eating mould and every variant of the juice I was offered did not taste like its name. I wanted to see the real night sky and not the fake colours on the roof.

By midnight, the father and mother had fallen in deep sleep. And that was when I slipped out, fairies were of course famous for being light feet and my mother had taught me a few tricks early on. I decided to leave my journal with them, in case they ever wanted to visit. Although they would have another day of asking and answering and crying over my departure, I did not feel bad. I realized they were not my parents and this was not my world, my only link was my brother. He was supposed to be my guide, and without him, I had no purpose but to get lost.

I stood at the gates in the woods and waited for the sun to go up and night to fall. And when the moment came, as I stepped through the fairy dust, into the realm of my home, I could make out a figure that I was much too familiar with. And as I inhaled the blossoms, I could see Jaadu smiling at me. And I smiled back.

#shortstory #life #fairy tales #fairies #changeling #originalshort #original #original story

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voidendron · 4 years

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V’ehsz Legacy (Part 1)

I’ve started getting a lot of characters to keep track of, and I want something for them with really brief info instead of full bios (plus. the last one of these I made was messy and a pain to read through). This’ll help me keep track of everything and off a look at what my OCs are like!

Starting off with my main eight who follow their class storylines

Terrin - Synnda - Qizulth - Liolana - Azan - Jen - Azuma - Varrich

Part 2

(only Terrin, Synnda, Qizulth, and Varrich’s outfits shown above are finalized - other four are not and I’ll try to update this when they are)

For more in-depth information, there’s a link to my SWTOR characters in my bio. Going there will lead to a list, and the list contains links to their Toyhouse files (if they exist yet), and I’m slowly working on putting the detailed info there

This is subject to (likely minor) changes

Ar’eonis’terrinxx (“Terrin”) - She/her - Chiss - Bounty Hunter (Power Tech) & Outlander Random Pointless Fact: She has a headband that Blizz made her to help keep her hair out of her face when she has a helmet on. She always wears it if planning to wear her helmet, but sometimes she’ll wear it in her regular day-to-day to change things up a little. It’s very dear to her and she keeps it stored safely in a drawer when not wearing it.

Reckless, likes a challenge, temper laying at the end of a short fuse, and anyone who’s worked with or for her quickly discovers she isn’t one to sit still for long. She takes great pride in being Mandalorian, but her tendency to take challenges she probably shouldn’t makes her a handful and easily gets her into trouble. When sent on a mission with her, it’s wise to bring a fire extinguisher; she likes to set things ablaze. She’s the type who if told to use her head, would actually headbutt the thing before thinking of a better solution.

Rough around the edges and quick to speak her mind or blast a hole in something, she’s surprised people with how caring she can actually be. Family is extremely important to her, and when the galaxy comes under threat credits become the last thing on her mind. Terrifying Force shit she doesn’t understand threatens an entire planet or the whole damn galaxy? She’ll step between it and the innocent without second thought.

When Marr reached out from Wild Space, Terrin wasn’t the only one he contacted (Varrich and Azan were even en route!), but she was the only one to arrive in time to try and aid him when the Eternal Empire attacked his fleet--much to her frustration, that also meant she was the one to get Valkorian in her head. Upon becoming Alliance Commander, she made the difficult decision to leave behind bounty hunting for good so she could focus on what was really important, and has matured because of it.

...That doesn’t change the fact she’s still Mandalorian, though, and Lana has her work cut out keeping Terrin from trying to fight everything.

Synnda V’ehsz - He/him - Zabrak - Jedi Consular (Shadow) Random Pointless Fact: Broke two horns as a Padawan. His lightsaber had been knocked out of his hand and he was more or less pinned, so he tried to headbutt his opponent... Who was... Wearing armor... It wasn’t his brightest moment.

Always calm, keeping a level head regardless of the situation, able to diffuse even the tensest situations and often finding allies in unexpected places, Synnda could be considered the ideal Jedi and those who know him aren’t surprised he was named Barsen’thor. His seeming emotionless and flat voice can easily make him seem cold or distant or disinterested, however, and he has a hard time really connecting with people as a friend rather than a simple acquaintance. Upon being offered a Council position, he was hesitant to take it, though did accept.

He has great interest in other cultures and--especially--other languages and is always trying to learn what he can of them. So, while his tone may put someone off, his commonplace willingness to speak their language instead of Basic, and that he’ll show respect as is custom of their culture rather than of the Jedi, shows the type of person he really is when his voice has a hard time conveying it. He tries not to form too strong of attachments to others, even if those others happen to be friends, but has definitely become attached to his crew.

When Marr reached out from Wild Space, Synnda had been busy with the rebuilding efforts on Corellia and missed the call until it was already too late. When the Eternal Empire attacked, he helped a few small groups escape to Ossus before attacking the fleet himself. He ended up captured, and was kept in a prison on Zakuul, but broke out during the blackout caused by Terrin’s escape and later joined up with the Alliance.

Qizulth Verryn/Darth Nox - He/him - Twi’lek - Sith Inquisitor (Sorcerer) Random Pointless Fact: He and Talos will totally geek out over ancient temples together. He’d have a hard time admitting it aloud, but Talos is easily his closest/most trusted friend and Key is much more open with him than anyone else.

Impulsive, sarcastic and cocky, yet also always trying to prove himself and his abilities. He doesn’t let it show, but thanks to Harkun and growing up a slave, he feels the need to prove to others that he’s worth something and easily becomes frustrated with himself when he can’t. He has a habit of trying to be better than others, as well, so he makes a lot of enemies and isn’t exactly the best at making allies unless he does it through manipulation.

Before being taken to Korriban to become an acolyte, he’d always dreamed of the stars and exploring unknown places, enjoyed learning anything he could in what little free time he had. As Sith, he found excitement in ancient tombs and texts and artifacts, took great interest in learning about peoples and cultures from long before his time. It made him fitting to head the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge upon his defeat of Thanaton--and also brought him to have his strange little crew he actually cares a lot for but shh. He’s scared to admit it.

When Marr reached out, Key had been exploring a tomb on Hoth, so the message never came through due to atmospheric interference. Upon the Eternal Empire’s attack, he sneaked off to Belsavis without telling anyone, hoping to confide in Ashaa or find something that could help against Arcann’s empire. His wandering led him to accidentally trap himself in one of the many prison chambers deep within the planet, suspended in the air by a force field and more or less frozen in time. It’s not until years later that others find and free him after finding clues of his whereabouts, and he joins the Alliance.

Liolana “Leo” Vetiko - She/her - Cathar - Jedi Knight (Guardian) Random Pointless Fact: Most people don’t know it, but she’s actually pretty good with repairing machines and is even a decent slicer. If an actual mechanic isn’t available, she’s a good replacement.

While she does try to fit the card of the ideal Jedi, her emotions and attachments can get the better of her to make her impulsive - so much so that she risked the entire mission of confronting Vitiate to save Rusk when he’d ended up in trouble. She works hard to feel like she’s worthy of her position of Master, and has a bad habit of comparing her failures to the successes of others, so has been known to push herself too hard to the point she’s fallen ill for it on more than one occasion.

She’s still young and, while honored, didn’t feel like she was even remotely ready to be named Battlemaster and was nervous about it. While she didn’t outright say, she did wish Satele and the Council had reconsidered their choice. However, it didn’t take long for her to love the position, and she took pride in watching the lightsaber skills of those she trained grow with her lessons.

When it came to Ziost, she ended up as one of Theron’s contacts and met with his other three (Havoc, Jen, and Synnda) planetside where they eventually paired up to work with Lana’s contacts. She ended up badly injured by a possessed Sixth Line Jedi, but in the end that’s what saved her life. Because of the severity of her injuries, she was taken off-world to be tended to, so ended up surviving the devastation Vitiate caused. She was still recovering when the Eternal Empire attacked, so had no choice but to follow others fleeing to Ossus, where she stayed until Jedi Under Siege.

Azan Tarnak/Lord Wrath - She/her - Sith Pureblood - Sith Warrior (Juggernaut) Random Pointless Fact: She’s not exactly graceful in a duel. She’s large and incredibly strong, so tends to lean with brute force rather than acrobatics in a fight. She’s even been known to swing her lightsaber more like it’s a club than an elegant weapon. Her fights aren’t pretty and many an opponent have lost limbs to her.

A follower of the light, Azan has learned to be cunning and manipulative just to survive among other Sith. She’s incredibly good at lying and finding ways to cover up things she’s done that would otherwise seem very not-Sith-like. From claiming pragmatism, to simply turning around and threatening someone not to question her choices, rarely using the Force in the presence of others and able to prove she doesn’t have to rely on it to be formidable, or simply covering up her actions altogether, she’s gotten good at wearing her mask.

She wasn’t exactly thrilled to get her apprenticeship to Baras. He irritated her and she had a bad feeling about him from the start--she sassed and disobeyed him every chance she got. Even on the instances he grew tired of her attitude and threatened her, she was one to just cross her arms and wait for him to get to the point. To say she was surprised by his betrayal would be a lie, and she quite enjoyed finally kicking his ass. Becoming Wrath was a different matter, though. She wasn’t pleased and thought she was about the worst possible choice for the position--though having even (most of) the Dark Council itself scared of her was certainly interesting and made things easier for her when she’d no longer be questioned about her actions due to that fear.

When Marr reached out from Wild Space, Azan had been at Ziost. She was on the surface after the destruction, protecting teams from Monoliths while they tried to study what happened. She and Havoc Squad met on Ziost’s space station and opted for a temporary truce to go out to Marr’s location together. By the time they reached the coordinates, the Eternal Fleet had already come and gone, and all that was left was the remains of the fleet and a few escape pods that they rounded up. Azan ended up going into hiding once the Eternal Empire attacked so she could try and figure out what to do about it. She was separated from her team, but met up with an old ally--Master Timmns--and the two worked to survive together until the formation of the Alliance, which they were quick to join.

Jendrush “Jen” Sept - He/him - Cathar - Smuggler (Gunslinger) Random Pointless Fact: Want to lure him into a trap? Don’t bother with anything elaborate. Simple and easy are just fine, and he’s sure to walk right into it without thinking. It’s a wonder how he’s still alive.

Overconfident, aloof, a huge flirt, and boiling over with enough sarcasm he could share, Jen isn’t exactly “friend” material. He has a hard time connecting with people unless he’s flirting, and has an easier time making enemies than allies. He used to run smuggling jobs solely for the money. He didn’t care what the job was or if it harmed anyone, as long as he got paid in the end. Fortunately, he did start to make better decisions after he had to work with others to get his stolen ship back.

It wasn’t until he was hired by the Republic that he really started to change for the better, however. He found that he actually liked helping people and became easier to be around, though still wasn’t the most friendly if you weren’t part of his crew, and even then he could be testy at times. It wasn’t until he hired K’hedif (so his two kids wouldn’t be in the streets; he didn’t trust K’hedif himself at first) that Jen finally started to soften up. Jeva was too little and too much of a sweetheart to be rude to, while Jessi would snap at him to quit being an ass and kinda gave him the reality check he so badly needed. And...yeah, he might have eventually fallen for K’hedif once his heart was good an tenderized after knowing them quite a while. He and his kids were the best things that ever happened to Jen.

Jen wasn’t contacted by Marr, and had instead been running a job when the Eternal Empire struck. He took his crew and his ship and went underground (possibly literally) until he could find a way around the Coruscant blockade. Once he did, his priority became running supplies to worlds that needed it until Hylo Visz got in contact needing smugglers for the newly-formed Alliance.

“Azuma”/Cipher Nine - She/her - Zabrak - Imperial Agent (Operative) Random Pointless Fact: The jewelry attached to her horns are extremely durable. She can (and has) removed them to use to choke someone from behind, and they can also undo/short out handcuffs and shock collars. Just assume that if she looks like she’s wearing something just for looks, it’s there for a reason.

Doggedly loyal to the Empire and severely lacking any form of moral compass, “Azuma” does whatever it takes for the Empire to come out on top. She’s intelligent, cunning, manipulative, and a quick thinker - able to smoothly run with a last-minute plan or come up with one herself on-the-spot, she can prove effective in any situation. She took the “you no longer have a name” very seriously, and went on to only go by whatever her latest disguise was for what her team should call her (with Azuma Kathrak being her current one). Her original name has been purged from all records and no one speaks of it - not even her own husband knows what it was.

While not good in an actual fight, she has a stealth generator and is armed with a multitude of poisons that she can use to do her dirty work for her. From dusts that her target can inhale, to setting off poisonous clouds that affect only certain species, to a toxin hidden in her earrings she can pour into a drink, her collection could make any chemist or assassin jealous. When she joined Intelligence, she very quickly learned it was no place for a moral code and left hers far behind in her old life. Now, she becomes whoever she has to be to get the job done.

Marr didn’t have the time to track down Azuma when he was in Wild Space, as she’d gone under the radar again after Ziost to conduct her own search for the Emperor. As such, she didn’t hear about what was happening until it was far too late. From then on, she parted ways with her companions and went into deep cover on Zakuul to figure out what was going on and strike at Arcann’s empire from within. She joined the Alliance when she was discovered by it for mutual gain: She’d help it by providing information, and it would help the Sith Empire in return.

Varrich Tophrik - He/him - Mirialan - Republic Trooper (Vanguard) Random Pointless Fact: He always wears the same style of helmet, even in different colors to match different armor. It’s become a running joke that he must have a hoard of lookalikes hidden somewhere like they’re some grand treasure. He is not amused by said joke. Because it’s probably true.

Steadfast, loyal, and unflinching in the face of danger, Varrich tries to be the perfect soldier. A teenage resistance fighter on Balmorra who later joined the Academy in the hopes he could better help his planet that way, he never expected to graduate top of his class, nor to be recruited to Havoc because of it. Already having trust issues, his original team’s betrayal only ingrained distrust deeper into him. He doesn’t let himself get close to anyone, trusting only his team and the sister he so rarely gets to see.

Trained in a multitude of weapons and fighting styles, he’s like a living arsenal. Missiles, blasters, grenades, knives, even a generator that lets him give his opponent a shock, he’s armed to the teeth and it’s not just for show. While he does have a strong moral code, he also knows that he can’t always follow it if he needs to get a job done and is willing to do some pretty messed up things in the name of the Republic. It can make him seem callous, and the fact he remains professional and even-toned even as bodies lay at his feet even more so.

When Marr called from Wild Space, Varrich and his team were on Ziost looking for signs of Vitiate. They dropped everything at the call, and when they’d head up to the orbital station, they encountered the Wrath who’d also gotten the call. Deciding it would be in their best interest, Varrich reluctantly agreed to head to his coordinates with her. They arrived too late, however, and Havoc eventually went to Zakuul’s surface to try and fight its empire. They were in over their heads, and Varrich was separated from the rest of his team in an explosion - he was captured by a black market group working out of Breaktown and used as a test subject for cybernetics they planned to sell in the streets. He was there about five years, but was able to escape thanks to Terrin having caused a blackout.

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smokeybrandreviews · 4 years

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Binary

This started out as a whole thing about Brie Larson. She’s started a YouTube channel and i figured I'd follow it just for kicks. I’m not a huge fan of massive Hollywood stars invading more accessible spaces but, technically, they’re the “You” in YouTube, too. I can’t be too mad at that. Of course Google is going to cater more to their brand, mostly because they bring in the duckets and understand PR so they know ho not to cause an ADpocolypse, but it’s still mad sh*tty. Larson’s first post was just her being goofy, trying to figure out how to even be a YouTuber. You kind of see a side of her that i figured was there, but never really was able to confirm. Brie Larson is the poster child for Millennial geekdom and i find that adorable as f*ck. Which is why i don’t understand the MASSIVE waves of hate she’s getting from the community. Cats are reveling in her perceived failure, it’s actually insane.

Now, before we go any further, i just want to be clear; I am a fan of Brie Larson. I think she is excellent at her craft. Ma is from my hometown and it’s always great to see someone make it out of this cowtown. I believe she has every right to her opinions and the fact that she voices them from such a visible platform, makes her one of the most endearing and real celebrities in an industry maligned by the phony. Brie ain’t quite Russell Brand but she is very vocal about the unjust sh*t she sees and will totally let you know it. That, i think, is why she garners such vitriol. Look, I'm a black dude living in the US. If she gets on TV and says f*ck white dudes, I'm inclined to agree. But she didn’t say that. What she said was there needs to be more voices making film, different perspectives in the arts. White dudes dominate the industry and she’s tired of seeing that movie. I don’t understand how that’s a controversial statement. It’s true. We need more dynamic, more diverse, storytellers making films out in the wild. The thing is, that one statement earned her the ire of every entitled white boy with time and and the internet. These motherf*cker decided to take that personally and we were off to the races.

When Brie Larson was announced as Captain Marvel, i was okay with it. I thought Charlize Theron or Katee Sackhoff would have been a better look but i get it. Larson is young and can portray the character for years to come. Kind of how Florence Pugh is going to take over Black Widow duties from Scarlett Johansson. Pugh can be that character for close to a decade, as can Larson. Once again, however, the interwebs were set asunder with rage and malcontent over the Cap Marvel announcement. It was f*cking ridiculous to me. Sure, she didn’t look the part going into this but neither did Gal Gadot, the latter turned out to be the best thing going in that trainwreck DCEU. Larson grew into the part, put in the work to look the part, and is committed to the role. She did her research, consuming massive amounts of the comics, trying to find Carol’s head space, which was a goddamn feat. Captain Marvel is as controversial as Brie Larson, herself. And it’s just as stupid.

Look, i adore Captain Marvel. She’s my fifth favorite Marvel character after Spider-Man, Doctor Doom, Laura Kinney, and Illyana Rasputin. In that order. Captain Marvel grew on me during the whole Mighty Avengers and Disassembled story lines from years ago. I have no love-loss for Bendis but that cat did wonders for building up more obscure characters, Carol being one of them. I also like what he did for Luke Cage, too, but that’s not what this essay is about. I’ve been a fan of this character since the early 00s and have rode this Carol train for years. I jumped on bored when she was rocking her leotard, which i miss terribly, took my time to dig up the back issues where she was in the original red and blue digs and moonlighted as Warbird for a bit. Then, Marvel Now happened and f*cked it all up. Carol went from this attractive, uber-powered, mess of a woman to a cold, manly, aggressively stupid caricature of herself. The Carol Danvers i had grown to love, with all of her faults and trauma, became some sort of butch nightmare and the poster child for why Woke Marvel was failing. I don’t think that’s fair.

Comic Carol was on her way to becoming a real force in the Marvel universe. She had learned there was worth in her strength, one she had to drag out through deep introspection and an understanding of who she really is. No longer was she just a gender-swapped, copyright placeholder that no one knew what to do with. Now she had agency. Now she was a force. Now she was relevant. Now tore all of that away. After Marvel Now, all of that growth and nuance was thrown out of the window. She became the idealized version of what the SJWs thought a “Strong Woman” should be. Marvel gave her a massive push in an effort to cater to this burgeoning Tumblr dynamic and it failed miserably. Marvel wanted that Steven Universe crowd and they tried real hard to get it but that sh*t did not work. The changes to the universe weren’t extreme or feminist or PC enough. Courting a fanbase that had no longevity, Carol was sabotaged and thrown to the wolves. That’s the environment we were saturated in when Disney announced Larson as Carol for the MCU. It was a perfect storm of Nerdrage, one that has not died down in any capacity all these years later for either Brie or Carol.

I don’t think the feminist slant given to the Captain Marvel movie was actually such a big deal. I think the vitriol that flick faces stems from the combined maliciousness both the new version of Carol in the comics and Brie Larson, herself, garnered. It’s kind of crazy the massive tantrum everyone decided to throw over this movie. Cats were looking for this thing to fail as some sort of petulant schadenfreude ignoring the fact that this movie wasn’t made for them. As frustrated as i was with the ludicrous discourse, i knew this movie wasn't for me. his wasn’t my Carol and i was good with that. Unlike Marvel who pandered to the trend of PC nonsense, the MCU had a clear vision in mind for the audience they wanted; Young girls. They wanted a character who was strong enough to hang with Thor, stand equally with Iron Man, and have the respect of Captain America. Captain Marvel was the best option. She would be the tentpole hero of the MCU going forward and i accepted that. I went into the film with that understanding and, on my way out, i saw, firsthand, what this movie meant to the target audience. There was a little girl, about nine or so, gushing abut how cool Captain Marvel was. She as ecstatic to see a girl like her, kicking so much butt. In the face of that, every entitled argument you have against the character falls apart in my eyes. Captain Marvel is to young girls and woman, as Black Panther was to us black folk. It’s the same energy.

Do i think the film could have been better? F*ck yea, i do. I think the script should have had one more revision and the directors definitely felt out of place. They’re good at their jobs, they mostly make A24-esque fare, but a massive, multi-million dollar, space epic connected to the most popular film franchise in history? Nah, these cats were way out of their depth. I think Feige dropped the ball on this one, a rare miss. I think Kathryn Bigelow, Patty Jenkins, Lynne Ramsay, Claire Dennis, or Lorene Scafaria would have constructed a much better film, both visually and narrative wise. I think if the movie was better as a whole, a lot of the controversy and vitriol would have been neutered. Carol is written quite wooden and a little pretentious. The interactions between the supporting cast feels forced. The overall narrative is fine but definitely could have been embellished at parts. Captain Marvel is boring and i don’t know how that happened. You have one of the strongest characters in comics, with a distinct, visually appealing powerset, and you make her movie boring? Really? More than anything, though, is the absolute mistreatment of Sam Jackson and Nick Fury.

The writing reduces Nick Fury, the mind behind the entirety of the Avengers Initiative, to lap boy sidekick in an effort to up Carol’s own stature. That sh*t is poor writing and it’s mad frustrating to see. I hate narratives that have to job established characters, in an effort to push new additions. I just wrote a whole goddamn thing about that with Punchline, Joker’s new “partner”. It’s bogus, cheapening the character and opens up an avenue for bad-faith complaints. Rey Palpatine is another great example. Her entire character is built on the slow, methodical, violent, destruction of the Skywalker legacy. Interestingly enough, that character was launched in the same environment as New Carol so i understand why the movie is the way that it is. I don’t agree with it, but i know why. It was an incredibly poor choice to introduce Captain Marvel in this way, however, and she’s never recovered. Brie has never recovered. You want a 90s buddy-cop space opera? Lethal Weapon with Skrulls and starships? You need your Murtaugh and Riggs to stand on equal footing. That was not the case with this flick. Having Nick Fury job to Carol Danvers for two hours was the wrong way to go about all of this and i think a different creative team could have made something truly excellent.

It’s nuts to me that this is even a thing though. Brie’s personal controversy is so f*cking stupid, i choke every time i think about it. How are you mad she stand up for herself, her gender, and everyone else in a position of persecution? Don’t you want though with a platform speaking up about the inequities of our country? I feel like the same people who hate Brie for her vocal advocacy, are the same people who stan “All Lives Matter” when ever someone says Black Lives Matter. That sh*t feels like the same energy to me. I feel like the criticisms launched at comic Carol have real validity, even if most of them are just whiny man-children who miss the leotard. I miss the leotard, too, but come on? We’re passed that now. I do think, when written well, Carol can be a force in the books. Her run as part of the new Ultimates was pretty chill I think she needs that in order to be her true self, until we establish a true self for the character. It’s weird to say but Captain Marvel, Ms. Marvel previously, has been around for fifty years, and no one has any idea who she is as a character. I think Captain Marvel in the MCU, both the character and film, are hated for the wrong reasons. The fact that no one has any idea who this character is, makes for a lousy cinematic experience. The team put together in an effort to flesh this character out, didn’t have the creative capacity to do so and we were left with little more than PC tropes and Feminist agenda. The MCU let both Brie and Carol down in that regard.

Brie Larson isn’t a terrible person and she deserves more respect put on her name. She an accomplished actress with a bevy of awards and accolades to her name. She’s been in great films like Room and Scott Pilgrim, never once garnering a controversy. The fact that she speaks her truth, a truth the establishment doesn’t want to hear, should not disqualify her talent or the fact that she seems like a really chill person. Carol Danvers is a dope ass character with an amazing amount of potential. When she’s written well and not traded upon for trends, she can have real staying power. Her abilities open up a plethora of interesting, creatively fertile narratives yet to be written. Disregarding her just because Marvel decided to gamble on the pretentious third-wave feminism wave is shortsighted and makes you look like a childish brat. You’re entitled to feel however you want but let’s be clear; Brie Larson and Carol Danvers deserve so much better.

#Captain Marvel #Carol Danvers #Brie Larson #Marvel

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argentdandelion · 3 years

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Ways to Salvage the Dragon Egg Princess With a Sequel

(Originally posted on Pillowfort two weeks ago.)

In a previous analysis post on The Dragon Egg Princess, it was made clear how messed-up Koko's identity conflict was. Koko was raised as a human princess, but later discovered she had hatched from a dragon egg, was the last of the dragons, and was now expected to become "a dragon". Supposedly, she had to become "a dragon", including assuming dragon form, because it was her true self or "destiny". The book's conclusion, given its build-up, was unsatisfying and only made sense if there was off-screen child abuse forcing Koko into a particular identity.

However, The Dragon Egg Princess can still be salvaged with a better-executed sequel.

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A Few Book Flaws

Remauld (Koko's magic teacher) and the namushin (forest spirits), as my analysis makes clear, are one of two things: some variety of “misguided” or “overzealous”, possibly blended with obliviousness or patronizing attitudes, or simply...immoral.

Some of the flaws of the previous book are how neither the namushin nor Remauld are ever acknowledged as bad or flawed in any way. In fact, not one person even dislikes them. Secondarily, the namushin (including their magic council representative, Zaki) and Remauld have pretty flat characterization and motives, a likely casualty of the book having too many characters and too little time to develop characters that would logically be better-developed or important. Most of Remauld's characterization is "wise magic teacher who admires dragons and pushes Koko into her "destiny"". The namushin are simply "kind, helpful forest spirits popular among humans that have a habit of simply appearing on the scene", and are so underdeveloped one never even sees their direct dialogue.

Furthermore, Koko's whole pressure to assume her "destiny" as a dragon, "represent" dragons, and be the princess of dragons seems pointless when she's the only one left. Dragon culture exists only as a fossil, so who would acculturate her? Who would she rule over?

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The Bad Guys

Due to their questionable motives and ways of going about them, Remauld and/or the namushin could be perfect antagonists for a sequel, and the new role would theoretically help develop their personalities. Luzee, the evil fairy antagonist of the first book, isn't exactly a fleshed-out "round character", but even she has more characterization than most of the good guys, exempting the protagonist, Jiho, Koko, and arguably the bandit leader Micah (who felt largely superfluous to the book, anyway).

Namushin

The cataclysmic war which ended in the death of all dragons (barring Koko) was initially caused by humans being afraid of supernatural creatures (including dragons) and attacking them, and Luzee secretly stoking their fears to gain more power. Koko outright mentions, just once, the cause of the first war as one reason people might not want to be a dragon. Based on this, and the fact over nations don’t have big magic forests like Joson (fantasy-Korea, basically) and have very little if any magic or magical places left, the Namushin could have a motive to attack humanity.

Although one could write them as wanting to kill all or most of humanity, the most internally consistent motive is wanting to kill those people of other nations who haven’t been incorporated into the Nackwon’s armies and are associated, even loosely, with the destruction of magical areas. Or, they merely want to restore the magic forests of the other nations, at all costs, as quickly as possible, with no care for what humans suffer and die in the process. (the spirits and spirit vines from The Legend of Korra could be a good parallel.)

They might want Koko because dragon magic could uniquely accelerate the process, or Koko would be useful to scare off their human enemies, and they believe they have Koko’s loyalty.

It’s mentioned the Joson people don’t have their own special sections in the Nackwon’s human armies: they’ve already been integrated into the general forces of the Nackwon because they are “magic, just like the Nackwon”. (something like that…) Therefore, the namushin could very well exploit Koko’s status as the princess of Joson to get the entire Joson nation as allies or give themselves political legitimacy quickly.

Remauld

Luzee initially tried to drain Queen Nanami (the queen of the dragons)’s brother for power, but he turned back into his dragon form and fled. He’s not mentioned outside a brief explanation in the magical viewer. Remauld said dragons were his friends and seems really enthusiastic about it. What if Remauld was Queen Nanami’s brother, who’s been in human form all this time? What if he felt like, as the only dragon left, he had to be a de facto parental figure for Koko and thought her human parents inadequate for the task? What if he didn’t want the pomp and restrictions of being the ruler of dragons, or was too much of a coward to confront Luzee if it could be avoided?

There’s also the possibility Remauld was Queen Nanami’s mate, which would have similar characterizations. Dragons can shapeshift into humans, but what about vice versa? Koko can shapeshift leaves into toads, among other magical features, so it’s plausible that Remauld is skilled enough to change his very body, or Queen Nanami changed his body herself. It’s stated dragons breed rarely, and they were lucky if one egg was laid per year.

Hundreds of years ago, Queen Nanami had to give a dragon’s egg to the powerful fairy Luzee as a source of magic so she could protect them against humans, before her turn against the Nackwon entirely and attempt to kill all dragons. Knowing the urgency of creating a dragon’s egg, Nanami may have chosen a shapeshifted Remauld to bypass whatever reproductive difficulties had, because a half-dragon's egg made quick was better than a full-dragon's egg too late to be useful.

Perhaps Remauld never told Koko that he sired her egg because he was ashamed that he, a lowly (compared to dragons) wizard who idolized dragons, had to be her father. Perhaps he wanted to maintain what he thought was a comforting illusion Koko was a full-blooded dragon, who only hatched weirdly because of a “dragon’s instinct to survive making it appealing to its caretakers” (his explanation for why Koko hatched as a scaly humanoid that quickly became indistinguishable from human). If Koko’s father was a magic-human, one could easily blend Koko’s identity conflict into a more coherent dual-species theme of uncertain or mixed identity.

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Koko With Actual Subjects?

If Koko had actual subjects, her identity would be a lot more important, so Koko learning of some other dragons is a good idea for a sequel. Perhaps the namushin never found them because they live in the other nations, and their data-collecting is spotty in the nations that don’t have magic forests. Perhaps it’s hard to tell a dragon in disguise from a real human unless they’re using magic, and it takes a lot of luck to perfectly observe a candidate at just the right time. However, the dragon-folk are fully aware dragons don’t exist as a separate culture or faction any more, or their loyalties are to human rulers, or they think of themselves as “humans who can turn into dragons” rather than the reverse, so they think Koko has no authority over them.

Koko initially assumed she was special and necessary because Joson loyalty allegedly had a trace of dragon’s blood, and the Namushin (evasively) told her she was related to Queen Nanami. Perhaps, five hundred years ago, some dragons defected from the dragon military and hid as humans. (perhaps in nations other than Joson---a good excuse to explore those in the next book) Because humans so feared supernatural creatures and dragons, they hid their true natures for many decades, even generations. They told their children who grew up among humans they had exceptional magical ability (or even the “unique ability to turn into dragons”) because they were descended from the illegitimate children of Joson royalty, who, yes, had traces of dragon blood, which were especially obvious in some people by sheer luck. Since the Joson royals sure don’t want word of indiscretion getting out (especially if the dragon-humans still live in Joson) and will use force to maintain secrecy, they should keep their unique abilities secret.

These “humans who can turn into dragons” would be an interesting foil for Koko. They would delight Remauld, frustrate him, or both. They would provide Koko an alternate identity option she hadn’t even considered under the yoke of crushing expectations/child abuse. And since Koko is not only “a dragon”, but also “a dragon princess” and “princess of Joson”, she may very well be a poor choice to represent these “dragon folk” as a whole, because she shares little in common with them. The “dragon folk” might not even be (or look) Joson in their human forms. However, one could also present them as second-generation or even twentieth-generation immigrants from Joson, only distinguishable from their neighbors at all because of their preference to interbreed with other dragon folk. (It’s unclear how long it takes for dragons to breed, or whether their human forms affect generation times.)

The above idea might allow something thematically similar to, “the only Tsimshian (Native American tribe with the lowest or second-lowest population) in the nation, who was adopted by Caucasians, and who figures Tsimshians are extinct, is brow-beaten into identifying as Tsimshian in the ‘purest’ way for Magic Reasons and is conflicted about it, but then realizes there are modern Tsimshians with very different backgrounds and identity expressions a few states away and must grapple with her identity again”.

One could probably combine “Remauld and/or the namushin are villains” with “Koko learns of humans-that-can-turn-into-dragons” into the same plot. Perhaps the namushin flush out the “Dragon Folk” in the process of restoring other nations’ forests/attacking other nations, or basically expand their tree-based “satellite vision” into other nations now that the immediate threat of Luzee is gone. (Luzee breaking out would make the Namushin’s projects pointless, after all; she would simply take over the world again and probably kill all namushin)

#Analysis #Books #Fantasy Books #Fantasy #Identity Conflicts #Identity #Literary Analysis #Meta #Dragons #Writing

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vcls · 4 years

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look !! it’s valencia ‘v’ rivera !! she’s my favorite c-list stylist with 192k followers, even though she’s only twenty-six. i heard she can be undemonstrative and impatient, but i think she’s illustrious and passionate. when i first saw her, i could’ve sworn she was ursula corberó, but i’m sure she’s heard that before.

BASIC INFO.

FULL NAME: valencia rivera.

BIRTHDAY: september 14th 1994

ZODIAC: virgo

NICKNAMES: v, rivera, val ( by friends ), valencia ( parents ), cia ( by her sister )

HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 5′8, 130 lbs.

TATTOOS: a few placed all over. working on sleeves

BASIC STYLE: androgynous, more masculine than feminine, alternative

USUAL EXPRESSION: resting bitch face or resting confused face

TRAITS: +illustrious, +passionate, -undemonstrative, -impatient.

FEARS: letting her family down .

AESTHETIC: messy hair, under eye bags, takeaway coffee cups, scuffed up shoes, kind heart, unsent letters, 2am phone calls, late night adventures, long drives, worn leather jackets, doc martens.

TRIGGERS: negative mentions of her family, specifically her parents and sister

BACKGROUND & PERSONALITY.

valencia comes from a very loving home. she knows she’s incredibly lucky to have the family she does, her parents are still madly in love with each other and she couldn’t ask for a better relationship with her little sister. they are her world.

growing up, the family were just comfortable. some months were better than others money-wise but they knew that no matter what they’d be okay because they had each other.

as a child she found it a lot easier to get along with boys than girls. she enjoyed the adventure and play style most of the boys around her had rather than the girls. like imagination games and moms and dads was fun sometimes but she loved play fighting and getting muddy more... a thing that drove her mum a little bit crazy but she wouldn’t change valencia for the world!

gender norms weren’t a thing that val stood by either. she loved ‘boy things’ like playing sports, fighting, watching games with her dad and just being rowdy but she also liked playing dress up, giving makeovers, baking with her mom and being sensitive.

all her life, she knew she was different. she could agree with her sister about the cute boys in their magazines and on tv... but she couldn’t picture herself ever marrying one. her sister would have crushes on various boys at school and v never found herself feeling anything. it all soon became clear though. and her name was sarah.

from the age of 10 to 15, val and sarah were best friends and she was wrapped around that girl’s finger. they’d do everything together and quite clearly adored each other. it was so clear to everyone except val and sarah however that val’s adoration was a lot more than just from the perspective of a best friend. and it wasn’t until sarah had to move away that val realised her true feelings. she was heartbroken. the two girls wrote each other all the time but val never felt right confessing her true feelings to her friend. there had been a few times where she’d tried to write it out but always decided against sending them.

she told her family about what she’d realised. she was a lesbian. they all took it well, her happiness being their only priority. her sister was a little bit taken back and took a little longer than her parents to come round but she was only 13 and didn’t totally understand the whole thing.

being the 2000′s, being gay brought a lot of bullying and homophobia her way. older family members in spain even writing to her parents to tell them they need to ‘get her help’ to which her parents kindly told them where they can shove their opinions and let her continue to find herself. a lot of the girls at school treated her like she had some kind of disease and would refuse to be around her which made her feel like shit as you can imagine but she always pushed through with the support of her family.

eventually, she came across a group of kids who didn’t treat her any different and supported her, some of them even being the same or incredibly similar to her. they opened her up to a lot of new things. new styles, new adventures, new music. and she loved it all. this group is why she is how she is today. they taught her about androgyny, about doing what you want and not giving a fuck about anyone else and about always being open and welcome to other people, even if you don’t totally understand them at first.

all these years, one thing about herself had stayed consistent. she’d always loved a good makeover. she was the one her friends came to for their hair and makeup for parties/dates and she’d be the one they came to for style advice and she loved that! she showed a lot of promise, as told by her drama teacher who often recruited her for help with costuming and styling for school plays. so as soon as she was able to, v went to beauty school and grew her talents.

never in a million years would she have thought this would get her to where she is today, stylist to the stars! and an incredibly popular one at that. fame isn’t a big deal to her though, she just happy to have a good job in an area she loves and being in a position to help her family out.

relationship wise, val has always dreamed of having a connection like what her parents have but so far, her few short lived relationships haven’t exactly shown much promise. sometimes she jokes that she’s terrible at picking girls since they all either only like her because she has access to celebrities, only like her because she has a little bit of fame they can use or they’re just not great people! she still secretly holds out hope though.

v has gained herself a bit of a tough outer shell after all these years of dealing with rude celebrities, catty competition and just general homophobia. some find it hard to get close enough to truly know her beautiful personality but those that do know they have a friend for life in v.

in her spare time she likes going to sport games, experiencing l.a, drawing and painting and occasionally going out with her friends. she’s very into politics and often attends protests, this isn’t something she usually talks about though like she prefers to just do stuff than talk about how she is going to or has done something.

her professional name is v rivera so to the majority of the people at shine, they would only call her v or rivera. she likes to save ‘val’ for her close friends, who are also welcome to come up with their own nicknames and ‘valencia’ is something only her parents call her (or sometimes her friends when she’s in trouble) and ‘cia’ is something only her sister has ever called because she struggled to say valencia when she was a toddler.

WANTED CONNECTIONS

sarah (this name can change): the girl who has always been a ‘what if’ in val’s mind. perhaps they lost touch and stopped writing to each other after a while? maybe they still write each other but just haven’t crossed paths again? maybe she also had feelings for val but was too scared to say anything or maybe she saw her purely as a best friend and we can find out her reaction to knowing the truth? maybe they could now be industry rivals and have to deal with the dynamic of their once best friend being competition? so much choice!

her sister: these two are as close as can be. they’ve had each other’s backs from day one and val would die for her sister no questions asked.

best friends: your muse is one of the few in the industry who took the time to break down val’s walls and get to know who she truly is. you see the weird and wonderful things that go on in her brain and also the fire in her heart and embrace it all just as she embraces everything about your muse. ( would be open to probably 2 or 3 )

industry rivals: hollywood is cutthroat and there’s always someone better. these two have been head to head for a while. maybe they admire each other’s artistic ability and use that to better themselves? maybe they can’t stand each other and always want to one up the other out of spite? maybe they’re really good friends and a bit of healthy competition never hurts? maybe they were once good friends but the competition pushed them apart?

“boyfriend/husband”: this is valencia’s boy best friend. he’s her boy and if she were straight she’d marry the fuck out of him. they probably get each other valentine’s day gifts and make jokey relationship posts about each other on their socials. they have a lot of love for each other. they always wingman each other and bro out whenever they can. i also like to imagine val practising make up looks on him if she can’t picture how it’ll look on an actual person.

idk what to call it: they love to work with each other. so maybe an actor/singer/model/etc who whenever they’re given the choice will always ask val to be their stylist and if she’s available, val will always do it because they’re one of her favourites. they probably have a good vibe together and enjoy each other’s company and if they spent more time together would be great friends but maybe due to work they’ve never had the chance before?

ex-girlfriends: this has so much opportunity for plots and backstory so if you’re interested in this then we’ll have to talk about what went down and why things didn’t work.

exes who can’t seem to let go: (i’m v inspired by this song and need a plot like it) maybe they broke up because things weren’t working but they decided to stay friends because even though the relationship was wrong they still care about each other. and they keep trying to move on but everytime they see each other, something ends up happening even though they both know it probably shouldn’t.

flirtationship: maybe her and a straight girl or her and a boy or even her and a gay girl... they probably both know nothing’s going to happen but they enjoy flirting with each other. where’s the harm in flirting?

enemies: these two just don’t vibe together. it’s not a thing, it doesn’t work. backstory can be worked out but yeah, they’re really don’t get along.

#this is all over the place i'm v sorry #i just love her okay #and for right now delilah is on hiatus while i work out what i want to do with her #shineintro

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bvnshcc · 4 years

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&& whoa little songbird, still your breath and bite your tongue - your fight is far from over, your life has only just begun.

〔 LULU ANTARIKSA, 21, CIS FEMALE 〕╰ DAPHNE OPHELIA WRIGHT just came over half - blood hill . you know , the child of APOLLO who was claimed ten years ago ? i’ve heard chiron say that she is OBSERVANT & COMPASSIONATE , but if you ask the aphrodite kids , they’d say they’re RETICENT & WILLFUL . i’d say they remind me of messy buns and yoga pants with a grin that says ‘i haven’t slept in a week’ , empty pizza boxes with poems and lyrics scribbled across them , coffee cups forgotten on windowsills , whispered apologies as the sun sets , pushing yourself to your feet no matter how hard you fall , fingertips moving over the strings an old and well-loved guitar , especially since they’re NEUTRAL/FOR THE NEW CABINS .

basics .

name : daphne ophelia wright . nicknames : oph , lia , wright , banshee ( only her sibling can get away with calling her this ) . birth date : nov. 20th, 1999 . gender : cis female . pronouns : she / her . ethnicity : indonesian / white . nationality : american . hometown : santa monica , california . demigod abilities : - curse creation - can curse others to speak in rhyming couplets for a time . - archery expertise - naturally skilled with a bow . - vitakinesis - can heal herself and others ( to heal others she must sing to her father ) . - audiokinesis - control of sound waves and music . - excels in the arts - musically inclined and excels in all forms of art cabin number & godly parent : cabin seven , apollo . how did their godly parent meet their mortal parent? : ophelia’s mother knew what she was doing , had purposely surrounded herself with people she knew would attract the god . she herself was talented with a violin , the sort of talented that never grew famous but left a lasting impression on those that heard her .

muse appearance .

faceclaim : lulu antariksa . height : 5′2 . hair colour : dark brown / black . eye colour : golden blue . dominant hand : right hand . distinguishing features : her eyes , which are typically blue . dress style : casual or athleisure is the best way to describe her style . she generally wears jeans , shorts , or some sort of leggings paired with a worn-out t-shirt or hoodie . only wears shoes when she has to .

camp - related .

go - to weapon : a bow that was a gift from her father , a xiphos that is the only thing of her mother’s she kept . ambrosia : a fresh funnel cake drizzled with chocolate and caramel , covered with powdered sugar . favourite camp location : the north wood , deep enough in that most other campers don’t come around too often . their opinion of their godly parent : she loves her father and is as close to him as any demigod can hope to be with their godly parent . age they were claimed : eleven years old . how they were claimed : ophelia’s childhood was an unusual one , even for the child of a god . she knew very early on that she was a demigod, but never knew who her father was - that changed not before her eleventh birthday , when events occurred that would’ve left her orphaned in the eyes of the mortal world . her father came to her in person , leaving her in the care of an old satyr that would take her to camp half-blood . the satyr left her to walk through the woods to the camp alone , refusing to get too close and ultimately making it nearly impossible for the girl to convince anyone that she already knew her father and had no reason to stay in the hermes cabin. it would be the next morning that she was claimed, after a night of refusing to sleep in the hermes cabin and instead spent sneaking around camp. stance on the new cabins : for the new cabins / neutral . reason for their stance : she understands why people would want their own space , especially with so many of the demigods being fulltimers at camp , but hasn’t really given the whole situation much thought . their opinion on lyssa pentelute : she does not like lyssa , at all, full stop . even if ophelia did understand why lyssa was acting out - which she doesn’t - she can’t stand her on a personal level . quests : several ! the last of which took place when she was 16/17 and didn’t go very well for her .

personality .

positive traits : observent & compassionate . neutral traits : tenacious & ardent . negative traits : willful & reticent . mbti : infp . alignment : neutral good . hogwarts house : gryffindor . kinsey scale : 2 . archetype : "the wise old man” self & “the innocent child” persona . what candle scent are they : black cherry merlot . goals & desires : her main goal is just to help people whenever she can . fears : turning out like her mother . hobbies : singing , playing with whatever instrument is close at hand , drinking more coffee than any one person ever should , painting/drawing on things that probably shouldn’t be painted/drawn on , hanging out in the tops of trees . habits : humming under her breath , drumming her fingers against her thigh when nervous or stressed .

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

so this is ophelia, my newest kid. below you’ll find some Fun Facts™ about her. feel free to hit me with any questions you have <3

- TRIGGER WARNINGS: child abuse/neglect, death/murder, all just mentions but just to be safe <3

- ophelia’s mom? not a good woman by any stretch of the imagination. - she was a demigod with a minor god for a divine parent, resented the gods and camp. - had two demigod children - ophelia & her older sibling ( will be a wanted connection ) - with two different gods, was raising them to be weapons. - she never told the kids who their other parents were, taught them twisted versions of stories that made the gods and heroes out to be much worse than they were. - she named ophelia ‘daphne’ because she thought it was funny to name the girl after one of the people apollo could never have. ( info on the myth of apollo & daphne ) - ophelia and her sibling were homeschooled. - her stepdad was good to her and her sibling - as much as he could be anyways. took them out to have fun whenever their mom would go on ‘business trips’. - this is how the kids actually ended up learning about the gods a little better, and were able to at least guess at who their parents might be - it helped that when they asked, their stepdad didn’t hide it from them. - their mom found out and was pissed. she killed the kids’ stepdad, it didn’t go according to plan tho and instead of being the well-trained soldiers she’d been raising ophelia and her sibling retaliated - they’d tried to act fast enough to save their stepdad, but they couldn’t save him. - ophelia had struck the killing blow against their mom, narrowly missing her sibling with the arrow but she’d trusted that she’d hit her mark. - she sang in their stepdad’s final moments, something in her gut telling her it was what she should do - but even a child of apollo can’t heal all things. - her dad showed up, some things happened that i’ll explain someday, and the kids were on their way to camp. - she was claimed at dawn the day after arriving at camp. - when she was 16/17 she went on a quest that didn’t go as planned - one of the heroes that was with her turned against the other two, badly wounding the other that was with them before going down. they had no ambrosia which left ophelia, and she only had the strength to save one of the two in that moment, already worn down from the quest and having to heal herself. she made her choice, saving one and ending the other’s suffering. - she refused to go on more quests after that, and left camp when she turned 18 with no intention of going back. - she was living in manhattan when the battle happened, had two mortal roommates that had fallen asleep when the spell washed over the city. she very nearly stayed out of it, but her heart just wouldn’t let her sit by if she could do something to help. - she... technically fought on the side of the gods, but only attacked monsters, while helping demigods from both sides. - she came back to camp to help after the war, and has stayed for some reason she can’t quite figure out. - her sibling calls her ‘banshee’ bc she’s always had a habit of singing or humming sadly when things die/are dying.

#ambrosia:intro #ambrosia:task001 #&& 𝚊𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝; 𝑶𝑷𝑯𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑨 𝑾𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻 #i didn't change her url bc i like all of them too much and ojioedsa #also this is a bit long i apologize

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gone4neow · 5 years

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The New King ♔ dks

Chapter One

- kyungsoo x reader, royalty AU, prince!kyungsoo

warnings : swearing, mature themes, arranged marriage, i don’t know anymore at this moment

word count : 2,832

chapter two or masterlist

♔ ♔ ♔ ♔ ♔

The atmosphere of the large ballroom was nothing but joyful. There were hundreds of people inside the stunning room, all dancing or cheering for those who were dancing. Their cheers were almost deafening combined with the noisy sound of the music playing in the background. A live band played enthusiastically as their eyes flickered back and forth between their instruments and the crowd before them. It was a royal celebration, therefore everything was extravagant and significantly closer to perfection than any regular celebration. There was no one in the universe that did not wish to be attending this party - except for the two people the party was being held for.

They were dancing together. Their sweaty palms pressed together while their bodies unwillingly swayed in synchronization. Large smiles were plastered on their faces as they stared into each other's eyes. It appeared they were madly in love to the outside world, but they knew the truth. Every touch, every glance, every little whisper was nothing but one giant lie. It was all a facade to protect the truth and the truth was the prince and princess could have wanted nothing more than to be light years away from one another. It wasn't that they hated one another. In fact, their personalities meshed together perfectly and in another lifetime they could have been great friends. They couldn't stand to be near one another because it only reminded them of the cold reality that they would be stuck together for the rest of their lives. It was a choice that they had not made. Their parents had come to an agreement two weeks ago and since then they had been forced to spend every moment of their day together.

"Please don't lower your hand too much," The princess spoke quietly to the prince as she gave his shoulder a warning squeeze. She felt his breath tickle over her ear as he scoffed in disbelief.

"Don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't be touching you at all-"

"If you didn't have to. Don't worry, we're on the same page," The princess finished for the prince with a small sigh. The prince looked down at the woman with a smile that was almost sad.

"The night is almost over. You won't have to be with me much longer," he told her in a quiet voice. The princess leaned back and let her head raise so she could look him in the eyes. The prince was a handsome man and anyone who said differently was wrong. She watched his features soften as the fake smile on his face vanished gradually. His eyes were her least favorite trait of his. They were a deep, warm shade of brown that seemed like liquid gold in the right lighting - breathtaking, really - but every time she looked into them she saw the disappointment swimming within them. What she saw as disappointment due to their forced engagement was really disappointment that he could never love her. The prince wanted to, her really did, but he couldn't no matter how much he tried. He was terrified of sharing the rest of his life with someone he couldn't love and even more terrified that she would come to love him. The princess was far from worried about falling in love with the man.

It wouldn't have been such a problem. He was handsome, kind, and funny but he wasn't the man for her. He was too outgoing for her. He loved being the focus of everyone's attention. His views on the world were different from hers. They were so different that there was hardly anything for them to talk about when alone, aside from the devastating situation they had been pushed into. Most of the time they sat in silence, sharing shy glances whenever they thought the other wasn't looking.

"Prince Sehun!" Called a voice full of cheerfulness. She recognized it as that of Baekhyun. Byun Baekhyun was a close friend of the prince. Together they would practice in combat and sports, sharing whatever time they could with one another. The princess found him to be humorous but overly enthusiastic about everything. He found something to say about everything and often teased her for things no one else did. He was exciting all in all. He approached the pair with Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo was the prince's younger brother. Though their parents pretended the young prince didn't exist most of the time, all of Sehun's friends had accepted him with welcoming arms. The young prince was more reserved than most of them. He was quiet, observant, and extremely intelligent. He spent most of his time alone in the library or with his closest friend, Jongin. The princess found him to be mysterious. Unfortunately, this sparked a flame of curiosity inside of her that she wished she could put out.

A wide smile was formed on Baekhyun's face as he looked between the prince and princess. Kyungsoo stared at them with his usual blank expression. Both of the men were dressed elegantly. They wore matching suits that were colored like the deepest part of the ocean, paired perfectly with the black shoes on their feet. Prince Sehun was dressed in a royal purple and it went so well with his dark hair color. They were each overwhelmingly handsome and it wasn't hard to tell that the rest of the party thought so too. Women shared lingering stares at the men, their lips parting slightly as they danced by the men. They were all oblivious or simply ignoring the burning stares.

"Ah, Princess Grace... it's wonderful to see you, as always. You look ravishing," Baekhyun greeted the princess. He held out his hand for her to place her own in and she allowed herself to separate from Sehun so she could. He kissed her soft hands with a gentleness that she had never known men to possess. She felt her face flush as the feeling of his warm lips against her skin.

"Baekhyun," Sehun warned in a low tone. The man pulled his lips away from the princess's skin and she retracted her hand away from his hole. He raised his eyebrows at the eldest prince and released a laugh.

"Relax. I'm well aware she is all yours. It's just too fun to watch her grow flustered," Baekhyun grinned. The princess looked away from the man at his words, no longer wanting to participate in his flirtatious game.

"Brother, you look nice tonight," Sehun complimented his brother as he let his hand reach out to run along the collar of the young prince's suit. Kyungsoo smiled a small smile and nodded his head.

"You look well put together for once," Kyungsoo told his brother. It was as close to a compliment as the older sibling would get from the quiet man.

"Do you know where my father is?" The princess interrupted their conversation. She looked at Kyungsoo, growing intimidated when his stone-like eyes met hers.

"Is it wise to leave my side?" Sehun asked her before his brother could answer. She glanced up at her fiancé and sighed in annoyance. Perhaps it wasn't wise to leave his side but she was willing to gamble five minutes of her time to visit her father.

"I wouldn't let you leave my side," Baekhyun commented, laughing at his own joke once it had rolled off of his tongue completely.

"Your father was near the balcony the last time I seen him," Kyungsoo finally spoke. She found his eyes again and nodded her head at him.

"Thank you, Prince Kyungsoo," she said quietly before she turned on her heels and began to push through the sea of dancing guests. The balcony was located near the long tables of food that had been prepared for the night's guests and it wasn't hard for her to find. She pushed the doors open, welcoming the cool night air that brushed against her exposed skin. Her father stood under the moonlight with his head raised towards the dark sky. They had been staying at the northern kingdom for the past week and she knew he missed his home. She missed their home.

She approached his side quietly. He leaned against the cool, metal railing that enclosed the balcony and she copied his pose to do the same. They didn't speak when she first arrived but they didn't need to say anything. The atmosphere automatically felt far more welcoming here than it did when she was inside the ballroom.

"I was wondering if I would get to see my daughter tonight," The king finally spoke. His voice was scratchy and shaky tonight, but then again it had been the same way for the last few months. On the better days he was able to speak like he used to when he was healthy but his illness made it hard for him to do anything he used to do. He was dying. It was something that she had caught onto before he told her. When she had confronted him he had cried and told her it was true. She had never seen her father cry before. They had spent the day lying in bed together with misty eyes and broken hearts. Since then, they had come to understand that their time together was limited so they refused to spend it being heartbroken over the inevitable. It made most days easier for the princess.

"I would have caused an argument with someone if you didn't. I'm not used to being away from you this much," The princess's voice was soft as she spoke. She stared out at the bright moon with distant eyes. There was nothing she wouldn't give to return to the time when things were normal. Her father reach over and took her hand in his, causing her to look away from the moon and into her father's honey colored eyes.

"I do not like seeing you so sad. You don't smile anymore," he told her with a deep frown on his face. She felt as if she had committed a crime as she watched his eyes wash over with shame. She placed her free hand on top of his and gave it a tight squeeze.

"I'm fine dad. You shouldn't worry about me so much," she told the man with a small smile. He couldn't resist the smile that formed on his face at the sight.

"It's my job to worry about you and I will always worry about you," he told her quietly. The princess grew sad at his words. Today was not most days and it certainly wasn't easier.

"Not always," she breathed out in a shaky voice. Her father placed his unoccupied hand against her cheek. She leaned into his hand and let her eyes close. She didn't want to live in a word where she could not spend time with her father like this.

"What are you doing out here? The prince will grow lonely," a high pitched voice filled the night's air. The princess's eyes snapped open almost immediately, wishing she never had to hear the sound again. Her father's hand fell from her face and he turned to look at the moon again.

"I'm spending time with my dad. Is that a crime?" The words were falling from the princess's lips before she could stop them.

"Don't speak to your mother like that. She's right, you should head back inside," the king told his daughter. The princess wanted to argue but she didn't want her father to grow upset with her. She slipped away from his side, his hand falling away from hers. She shared a sharp look with her mother as she brushed by. Entering the ballroom after spending time on the tranquil balcony was like entering hell; hot, stuffy, and far too loud. The princess guided herself through the busy crowd until her eyes met the prince's. He was smiling brightly at something Baekhyun had said. The princess noticed Kai and Jongdae had joined the men she had left on the dance floor. When the eldest prince noticed her return, his smile faltered. As if reading his mind, his friends turned to look in her direction. She felt shy under all of their stares but she still made her way towards them.

"Hi everyone," she greeted them in a shy tone. Sehun's hand found her waist as soon as she stepped back into her place beside them. Kai and Jongdae bowed in her direction with kind smiles plastered on their faces.

"That's not necessary," she told them with a small sigh.

"Of course it is. You're our future queen after all," Jongdae replied. She smiled at him and didn't say anything else. She knew it would be an endless argument.

"How is your father?" Prince Kyungsoo spoke towards the princess. She looked at him with wide eyes, hoping she hid the surprise she felt inside. His expression was one of genuine concern. His eyes locked with hers, his stare as intimidating as ever.

"He's fine. Thank you for asking," she replied. Though she had lied, a genuine smile formed on her face for the first time that night.

"We're stealing too much of the couple's time! You guys should be dancing the night away, unless you have places to dance the night away later tonight," Baekhyun ruined the lightened atmosphere. Jongdae laughed lightly at the man while Kai and Kyungsoo shook their heads in disbelief. The princess looked up at Prince Sehun with flustered cheeks. His eyes met hers for a second and he found himself ready to escape his friend's' company with her. He bid a goodnight to the four boys and led her deeper into the crowd.

"I am sorry for Baekhyun's behavior. He makes this harder," Sehun told her once he had her in the heart of the ballroom. His left hand rest against her hip and his right hand was intertwined with hers.

"It's not his fault. I think he senses that there is something off between us and he tries to lighten the mood," The princess replied lowly.

"It would make sense. Baekhyun is a smart man, much to everyone's surprise," Sehun hummed as he spoke, almost as if he were voicing his thoughts as they came. The princess nodded in agreement. Without anything left to say, she pressed her face against the prince's chest. She could hear his racing heartbeat even through the fabric of his suit. She wished she could bring him comfort but she knew she only did the opposite.

It wasn't until around midnight that the celebration came to an end. It was one of her duties to stay until every last guest had gone home for the night. She stood beside Sehun with a smile on her face. Everyone complimented her appearance for the night and wished her with in her future marriage. They said similar things to Sehun as they went on down the line. When they had all gone, it was time for the royals to head to bed.

The prince and princess were silent as they walked up the stairs together. Sehun's hand rest against the small of her back as they walked. It wasn't much but it was enough to comfort her a little bit. She felt overwhelmed with several different emotions, something she was growing familiar with. She had been raised to become a queen but as time ticked on she felt herself doubting whether or not she was fit to be queen. The only example of a queen she had ever had was her mother and she was certain that the woman was only an example of what not to be when it came to ruling a kingdom.

"Goodnight Prince," The princess whispered when they came to a stop in front of her chamber doors.

"Try to not dream about me too much," Prince Sehun attempted to joke with the princess but she was so emotionally drained for the night that she could only laugh half-heartedly.

"Only if you promise to do the same," she told him. He held up his pinky finger and she eyed it with disbelief. Still, she let hers wrap around his before she pulled away and entered her chamber without another word. He watched as her doors closed with a gentle thud. The guards standing at the doors wore masks but he could feel their eyes boring into his face. He turned and made his way towards his brother's room for the night.

The lights were completely off when he entered the room. Sehun checked to make sure Kyungsoo was in bed and laughed gently when he heard his young sibling curse at him for disturbing his sleep.

"The princess is okay?" Kyungsoo asked quietly as Sehun prepared to climb into bed.

"As far as I know. She's a hard one to read," The prince answered his brother. Kyungsoo hummed in response. Sehun climbed into bed with his brother and the two bid each other a goodnight.

a/n : this is one of my first attempts at writing a serious fanfiction, so i’m sorry if it sucks. also, i apologize for the weird spacing. i’m not entirely sure how to work tumblr yet. any feedback is appreciated. thanks for reading!

#exo fanfic #kyungsooxreader #royaltyau #princekyungsoo #princesehun #royalbrothers #exoxreader #kyungsoo x reader #exo x reader #royalty au #au #do kyungsoo #kyungsoo #dewbebe

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