#[also lloyd: WHAT DID YOU SAY TO ME SCRUB--]

[veltana]

Sell my soul - 2

✦ Pairing: Lloyd Hansen/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1,6k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Lloyd, Omega!Reader, omega auction, slow burn, eventual smut, pet names (sugar plum).

✦ Series summary: With no other options left, you decide to put yourself up for auction in hope of finding an alpha. Scared and running from your past, you end up with a man who is incredibly handsome but also seems to care for you in his own way. But living with him brings its own set of challenges. As both of you navigate these difficulties, you'll discover your true feelings for each other, hopefully before time runs out.

✦ Summary: Lloyd gives you a tour and you have some food

✦ Note: This was supposed to be two chapters but they were so short I put them together instead. It might be a while before we see Lloyd and sugar plum again because I've been having some trouble figuring out where I want to go with the next chapter.

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

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The towel is the fluffiest thing you've ever felt against your skin. Not even way back, before everything went to shits, did you have such nice things.

Looking in the mirror you can almost see your old self, scrubbed clean of the years running. If everything goes as planned, you'll never have to do it again.

You remove the last pair of clean underwear from your bag, but seeing them compared to the space you're in makes it clear that they don't make the cut. Lloyd won't know you're naked underneath his clothes anyway.

The pants are too long so you roll them up and tie the drawstring so they won't fall off. His t-shirt is soft and smells of detergent. The omega in you is disappointed that it doesn't smell like him but you push that aside.

Stepping out you look around but you have no idea where to go. “Lloyd?” You call. “Kitchen!” He answers. You head in the direction of his voice and find him at a huge kitchen island.

“Hungry?” he asks and you nod as you slide onto a bar chair. He opens a drawer and pulls out a bunch of folders, then throws them on the counter. “Pick whatever you want.”

At first, you're unsure of what it is, so you pick one up and examine it. It’s a takeaway menu for Indian food. Do you like that? You’ve eaten what you can find over the years but never paid much attention to what it was. And before that, you liked to cook and rarely ordered takeout. As you grab another menu, you try to figure out what to order, but the options are overwhelming.

Looking at Lloyd you tell him, “I don’t know, just decide for me.” Shrugging he picks up a bright red one and makes a call. The person on the other end seems to know him. Lloyd laughs and says that he’s home for a while again. You store that piece of information away. Then he rattles off some things before he ends the call.

“It'll take about 20 minutes for the food to get here, should we put your things in the wash?” “I already did,” you tell him heistily. You saw the machine in the bathroom and the thought of Lloyd handling your dirty clothes almost made you panic so you shoved them in and started it.

“Then how about a tour!” Lloyd exclaims and heads out of the kitchen before you can respond. Like a lost puppy you follow him.

There is a room with workout equipment and another smaller bathroom. Attached to the living room is a balcony overlooking the street below. Heights have never been your thing and it tingles unpleasantly in your feet as you stand at the railing made of glass.

The whole apartment is minimalistic and mostly white and gray. When you had an apartment it was full of colors. Guess it's just something you will have to get used to.

During the little tour, you observe Lloyd. The mustache makes him seem silly at first but you have a feeling he’s anything but. The whole apartment screams of a need for control over every single detail.

An itch starts in your fingers. What happens if you turn one of his decorations the wrong way? What if you nudge the painting until it's crooked? What if you tickle him?

You quickly shove all those silly thoughts away. This is a serious man and it's a serious place. And you don't know Lloyd. If you're lucky he might throw you out and if you're not lucky, well, no one would miss you. Not really.

The tour concludes in the bedroom, presenting you with a new problem: there’s a massive bed, but only one. “I usually sleep on the left side, so I guess the right is yours,” Lloyd says, gesturing to the bed.

Cold sweat breaks out on your brow. You didn't think of this. Of course, he expects you to sleep in the same bed as him. You're his omega. He's bought you for a reason. He's watching you expectantly. As if to gauge your reaction. You force yourself to nod but don't say anything.

The sound of the doorbell makes you jump and Lloyd heads out to get the food while you're stuck staring at the bed. It was a long time ago you slept in a real bed. But you have never shared a bed with an alpha.

“Come eat!” Lloyd calls. It unglues your feet from the floor and you hurry to the kitchen.

The sight of Lloyd opening the boxes of food and the steam rising from them makes your stomach rumble loudly. It’s clear that he’s bought more than just two meals with all the containers on the counter, so you try a bit of everything. You’re not sure if it’s the actual food, the fact that it’s warm and fresh, or the environment that makes it taste so great.

“Don't overeat,” Lloyd waves at you with his fork. You swallow the bite in your mouth and stare at him. He stares right back and pops a piece of fried chicken into his mouth.

“Afraid I'm gonna get fat?” you ask, voice dripping with acid. Lloyd smiles, but it's not a nice, friendly kind of smile. “No, sugar plum. But your stomach might recoil if you eat too much all at once.”

A pinprick of shame needles you. He is just trying to look out for you. A part of you wants to rebel, and stuff as much food as you can manage into your mouth, but you do see that he has a point. And you need to be nice to him, you remind yourself once again.

“Yeah, sure.” “Better to eat smaller portions often.” “Mhm,” you hum and take one last bite before putting down your fork.

“So tell me about yourself,” Lloyd says. You shrug, “Not much to tell, honestly.” “Why does an omega put themselves up for auction?” “Why does an alpha feel the need to buy one?”

Once again, the two of you stare at each other across the kitchen island. This is a mistake, is all you can think. Being nice and docile is not your strong suit.

“I had my reasons, sugar plum.” he smiles. “Besides, you're hot.” You stiffen at his words because they’re not what you expect, you certainly don't feel hot right now. For a second you consider telling him, but you don't want to dump it on him in case it works itself out anyway. Instead, you smile as politely as you can. “I had my reasons as well. And thanks for the compliment.”

Once you’ve finished eating you help put away the food and notice that the fridge holds very little produce. “Don't you eat anything but take-out?” “I'm usually not home long enough, it's a waste of money to buy a bunch of ingredients,” he shrugs.

A life without home-cooked meals sounds like a miserable existence to you so you clear your throat and offer up information about yourself. “I used to love cooking. Haven't done it in a while but I think I would like to try again.”

Lloyd closes the fridge. “Sure, go nuts! I think the store is closed now but you can go tomorrow.” Your body goes rigid and your pulse picks up. Quickly you fumble for a way out. “I can't, I don't have any money.” Lloyd raises his eyebrow. “The sum I paid should be more than enough to fill a few bags at the store.”

Shit, you didn't think of that. You chew your lip.

“Why are you scared?”

Avoiding his gaze you look at the floor. “I just don't like going to the store by myself.”

Because no matter how many times you switched stores, he always found you. You kept going further and further out of town, yet one day, you'd pull up, and there he was, waiting right outside the door. It's going to happen here too. But if you have an alpha with you maybe he won't bother you.

“Okay, I'll go with you tomorrow,” Lloyd shrugs. “Thanks,” you murmur.

The sun is setting and by now you've usually found somewhere to hole up for the night. If you were lucky it would be somewhere safe. If you were not so lucky it would be somewhere exposed. Does this count as a safe place? You think so. The day is catching up on you and the exhaustion is starting to take a toll on your body. There is just the tiny little problem of the sleeping arrangements.

You want to say something. At the same time, you feel like you’ve done enough damage on your first night. So instead you stay up with Lloyd and watch some TV on the couch that looks as if it’s brand new. As it’s getting more difficult to keep your eyes open you have the brilliant idea of just falling asleep on the couch. Then you won’t have to sleep in the bed. Silently you curl up against a pillow and sleep is instant.

The next thing you know you're in the air. It takes a moment to orient yourself before you realize he's carrying you.

“Put me down,” you mumble, too tired to filter out your thoughts. “I'm taking you to bed.” “No, I'll sleep on the couch.” You wiggle in Lloyd's arms, trying to get out.

“Don't be silly,” he rebukes and puts you on the bed. A distressed whine bubbles up in your throat.

Lloyd doesn't say anything, instead a rumble sounds next to you. It makes your muscles go slack, the omega in you recognizing the sound as comforting and safe. Sleep starts to take you again.

Fucker, is your last thought. He's purring you to sleep.

next

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

rich girl 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as bullying, manipulation, cheating, noncon/dubcon, Lloyd being Lloyd, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your long awaited ascension to the Home Owners Association proves more than you bargained for. (Silverfox AU)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, side of Cole Turner

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

You go home but can’t forget about what happened. You’ve never in your life dealt with someone like that man. He was so bold and brazen and shameless. Much different than your husband.

Even if you still don’t know what he did to land in the crosshairs of the HOA, you can assume it wasn’t very dissimilar to your own encounter. You hope they’ll understand when you tell them you couldn’t get a signature. You delivered the message but you can’t help that that man didn’t want to listen.

You find it hard to calm down as you try to focus on chores instead of your failure. All this time you spent trying to be a part of the in-crowd and now you’re falling flat on your face. Maybe you aren’t cut out for this. Maybe Cole is wrong.

As you scrub dishes, the lazy tones of your music playing from the little bluetooth stuck to the tile, a sudden squeeze around your hips makes you jump. You cry out and spin, splashing your husband as he stands behind you. He closes his eyes as the water soaks the front of his shirt, your yellow gloves dripping with soap bubbles.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you,” you squeal.

“It’s fine,” he uses his sleeve to wipe his face, “I know you didn’t. I wanted to scare you.”

“Ugh, you know I hate that,” you pout.

“So,” he grabs the dish towel from the rack and dabs at his button-up, “tell me all about it. How was your first meeting?”

He turns to lean in the crook of the counter, watching you expectantly. You seal your lips and face the sink again. You plunge your hands into the water and shrug.

“It was okay,” you say, “I... I have an assignment so... uh...” you don’t know how to tell him what happened. You think maybe it’s better he doesn’t know. “I’m working on it.”

“An assignment?” He tilts his head, “exciting. What is it?”

You chew your lip and put another plate in the dishwasher, “just you know this guy...” you gulp dryly as you grasp for a lie, “he has this thing on his lawn so I’m just supposed to you know, get him to move it.”

“Wow, hard-hitting stuff,” he chuckles, “you’re like a police officer or something.”

“Not really. I mean, he could just ignore me,” you frown guiltily. That’s exactly what happened.

“Hm, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, baby,” he coos as he stands straight, “what’s for dinner?”

“Oh, shoot. I forgot the roast,” you strip the gloves off your hands and shut off the faucet, “I guess... I could do chops?”

“Ah, sounds delicious,” he creeps closer as you open the fridge, “and dessert?”

“Dessert? Well, erm, I could do like sorbet or sponge cake--”

He comes around the door and hugs you from behind, “I’m not talking about food, honey,” he rocks you and reaches to close the fridge door. He taps on the calendar, “ovulating... right?”

You look at the days circled with hearts. Oh yeah. Your heart flutters and you turn in his arms, touching his chest. You’re almost too anxious to get into it but you missed it last month. You can’t risk it again.

“Yeah, I uh, sure am,” you chime.

“Mm,” his blue eyes turn smoky, “do I really have to wait until after dinner to have my dessert?”

You giggle, more uneasy than aroused. You’re just not ready for it but you also don’t have the heart to deny him. Besides, you’ll just be too tired later.

“That’s up to you,” you run your hands across his shoulders, “are you feeling peckish?”

“Starving,” he snarls and his hands circle your waist, “babe, I wanna try something new.”

“New?” You ask.

“Mm hmm,” he bites his lip, “take your clothes off... but keep the apron on.”

You look down and back at him. You grin crookedly, “oh?”

“Trust me?”

“Of course,” you quaver and step away from the fridge, the door falling shut behind you.

He stands back and crosses his arms. You notice his pants twitch as he watches you. You untie the apron and let it hand loosely from your neck. You reach to unzip your dress and shimmy out of it. As you go to roll down your nylons, he tuts.

“You can keep those too.”

Your cheeks are on fire as you unhook your bra and pull it out from under the apron. As you roll down your panties, he lets out a gritty breath. His hand covers the bulge in his pants. You tie a bow in the back of the apron, cinching your waist as your tits threaten to spill out and the cool air tickles your bare bum.

“Will you use your mouth?” He asks as he unbuckles his belt, his hands eagerly clumsy.

“Is that what you want?” You ask. He’s not usually this adventurous. In the kitchen?

“Sure,” he pushes his pants down and groans as his dick catches in the elastic of his briefs, “god, I’ve been thinking of this all day.” He frees himself and sighs, “of you, baby.”

He beckons you forward as he pumps himself. You bend your knee and he tisks again. He pets your chin and looks you up and down.

“Not on your knees, just bend over,” he directs, “I wanna see your ass.”

You nearly gasp. He doesn’t often swear, even in the heat of the moment. You do as he says, bending and craning your head to level yourself with his tip as he aims it towards you. He’s pressing against you before you can even open your mouth.

His other hand comes up to grip your head, clamping your hair in a fist, as he forces you onto him. You gag and catch yourself on his thighs, teetering as you arch your feet. He rocks his hips, holding you still as he falls into a steady tempo, not waiting for you to warm him up.

His dick scrapes in your dry mouth. He groans as he tilts into you, deeper and deeper. You trail your hand up to cling to his shirt, moaning as you try to signal him to slow down. You can tell he’s been waiting but you’re not ready. You need a little longer to warm up.

“Mm, honey, you look so good,” he touches your back as he rocks you, “mm, yeah.”

He pushes further in, hitting the resistance at the back of your throat. He tugs your hair, angling your head as he buries himself in your throat. You spasm and choke around him. He’s never gone that deep. He lets out a shuddery growl.

“Yeah, so good,” he praises and slows, making long thrusts as moves his hand around your neck, feeling his intrusion. Your eyes well and you slap his chest. You can’t breathe. “Just a little more.”

He pushes until your lips are to his pelvis and slobber smears around your mouth. He relents as you clutch the front of his shirt and slides out completely. You cough and drag yourself up as you cling to him. You bat your lashes at him and press the back of your hand to your mouth.

His long lashes flutter, “sorry, baby, was that too much?”

You clear your throat and shake, nodding.

“I’m sorry, I was just excited,” he touches your shoulders, “come on, better not waste it. I feel it, this is the time.”

You wobble forward as he nudges you towards the counter. He turns to stand behind you, surprising you again. You’re always facing him, usually under him. He has all sorts of new ideas. He tickles your spine then grips your shoulder, leaning into you until you bend against the counter.

He rubs his tip along your butt, tracing the shape down to your folds. He bends his knees and comes up under you, prodding at your entrance until he dips inside. You whimper as he stretches you. You’re barely wet yet. You're so dizzy you can’t get into it.

He rams to his limit and you’re back on your toes. You brace the counter as he falls into a rapid motion, pounding against your ass. Flesh slaps loudly as he ruts without restraint, a hand on your hip to keep you from slipping off.

“Slow, please,” you beg through pained huffs, “Cole, you’re hurting--”

He grabs the back of your head and pushes it down, your cheek touching the marble as he rolls his pelvis into you. He hammers until your walls feel ready to split and roars as he empties himself into you. He slows only as the slickness coats you and seeps out around him.

He holds himself as deep as you can take him. You shake and keep one hand over the lip to the counter as you reach with your other between your legs. Ow.

“Was that good?” He exhales.

You shake and extend your arm back to flick him away. He slides out and his cum drips onto the floor between your feet. You stand and cup your cunt as you face him.

“That was... a lot,” you babble.

“Oh,” he seems genuinely shocked, “I’m sorry, honey, I guess I got carried away.”

“Mm, I know but... that was so... different,” you hiss at the rawness in your folds.

“I... I thought you’d like it.”

“I...” you look at him and frown. You don’t want to ever disappoint him. “I did, it’s just... it was so fast.”

“Right,” he lets out a breath, “I can make it up to you. How about tomorrow?”

You smile and nod. He has a business dinner tomorrow. He won’t be home until later, but you know he’ll get to it. When he can.

[jezmmart]

Chamomile Comic Trivia #31

#159 - Notice

It's Sam! I wish I had written down more about my decision to add her, although at this point I'm fairly sure I wasn't certain she was going to become a main character - in fact it was RIGHT around the week this posted that I began work on the first proper cover art for the series which of course did not include her.

Her design was based off this old one-off pin-up girl art from 2017, technically making her the first ever major Chamomile Comic character to exist, sort of.

She was named after Sam Lloyd, likely known for his portrayal of Ted the Lawyer from Scrubs. The news of his death had recently broken and I had just recently begun listening to Fake Doctors, Real Friends, the Scrubs rewatch podcast, as my go-to background entertainment when colouring the comic specifically each week. It still is now, albeit intermittently since they don't always produce an episode each week and I no longer have a backlog to catch up on. Now granted, I don't love the podcast as much as I used to - can be a bit cringey at times as these two hollywood actors chat about utterly unrelatable anecdotes from their lives - but it's overall been enjoyable and it'll be weird to find something new to accompany my colouring if it does come to an end or stops being enjoyable once they permanently pivot into... whatever they plan to do after they run out of Scrubs episodes. It's been part of my colouring process for the comic for longer than it hasn't been now, haha. So... yeah it felt right to honour that connection to my comic with Sam's name, on top of the fact that Scrubs is just straight-up one of my favourite TV shows and Ted was always a character that gave me big laughs.

Of course... I realised after that I'd introduced yet another character to the comic ending in "-a"! ...But whatever, it's a common thing. Not so long ago I had 5 co-workers simultaneously whose names also ended in -a, lol.

The decision to have had her always be around simply came from not having any strong ideas to introduce her and preferring the idea that at least some of the cast already knew her. The gag's been done before, but I thought it'd be extra funny to introduce her with a scene in which she is specifically announcing her departure from being a regular face in Cammie's life, which typically would mean the same for the audience in most works with actually established characters.

Final little bonus note - in panel 1, Cammie once again is entering with a handful of steaming coffee.

#160 - Official

I didn't really mean for it to be so small it's barely legible at web size, but the little sign on the panic alarm button behind the till says "Real emergencies only Cammie!", in reference to #50.

#161 - Before

All that Scrubs talk regarding Sam is kinda fitting, because they did the "this character was always here!" gag there too. For their one, they edited her in on various memorable shots and pretended the main character didn't notice her being present, here I obviously extended the frame on the end of several punchline panels from previous comics.

Here's a gif that shows the original panels compared to the new ones, showing both the new and old art isolated as well so you can see exactly what I drew to extend the older panels which naturally weren't drawn originally knowing that I would one day be extending them!

The second of the three Sam flashbacks is just a nice little bridging one, but it did take me a while to decide for sure which way around I wanted the first and third flashback panel. For the first: while there's been a little bit of mild bad language in the comic once the seal was broken here, Sam's "bitch" is the first time such language has appeared so it amused me to place it in a scene that has already happened long ago just barely outside of the audience's perspective. For the third: the joke is of course that the reveal of Sam's additional dialogue is particularly adding nothing to the scene whatsoever - like, as if Cammie making a fool of herself would even be remark-worthy at this point. I felt both these two goofs had a good punch to them in their own way so yeah, I remember being conflicted over whether I had chosen the funniest possible flow of these three gags.

Of course, the final joke of this one, in case it wasn't obvious (I could see it being subtle for some), is that Mimi's whole running gag is she's a side character who also has existed in the comic for long before her first on-screen appearance, yet Cammie never remembers her.

#162 - New

The art and dialogue structure of the first two panels here is identical to #160. I think it being a time-saver on my workload for the week was definitely a factor - for whatever reason I needed it at the time - but I also remember going for something with that choice beyond just that... But I can't for the life of me remember what. I don't think the parallel between the two comics adds anything reading them back now.

Anyway here's Newt! I really thought at the time that he was going to be as significant an addition as Sam, and I did come up with the idea of introducing a regular male character at the time I chose to bring Sam in, with Sam's introduction - and exit - being an amusing way to introduce a surprise new character.

...Then I proceeded to never really get any super strong story ideas for him lol. More detail on that in a second. I haven't forgotten him though, frustrates me that he keeps getting sidelined!

#163 - Training

Standard behind-the-scenes retail frustration humour here. I can neither confirm nor deny how much is based on my current employment. A little detail of authenticity/flavour is that they're watching a DVD intended for widescreen on an old non-widescreen TV that's clearly been in their staff room for at least a decade. Such was the case for my painful training videos too! (It's all online now as of a few years into when I started, so some progress has been made I guess).

#164 - Huh

It's not made clear yet, but the new status quo that Sam is a receptionist at a primary school is established here - the coloured hanging letter signage on the wall that is too perspective'd to read says "WELCOME TO OUR SCHOOL".

I chose this as a job for her based simply on the fact that my Mum has often worked in school offices for most of my life. She wasn't a receptionist but it was the sort of job where I have some... vague enough memories of the "behind-the-scenes" enough to draw something along those lines when I needed to show Sam at work.

Getting back to Newt, obviously the goof here is that Cammie is just being a sore loser about her friend leaving and Newt is about the most cool-sounding interesting person you could imagine meeting. Unfortunately that involved specifically coming up with fun sounding stuff that are not super common to do or know people that do, so despite the super interesting combo of cave-diving, stand-up and polyamory these are all things I feel like I'd have to do thorough research on to represent in the actual comic accurately... which is something I'd like to do but, time is finite and I have so much pre-existing experience with being a silly nonsense person. Would you believe it, there's another character in the comic for whom that experience lends itself very well!!

Speaking of whom, the first appearance of the bell on the door in Repeat 1 Records was only a month after Cammie got the job. She works fast!

[Trivia Archive | Browse from most recent]

[hockeynoses]

Obsessed with your writing!! Could we possibly get more of allergic Steve? I don’t have a certain prompt in mind but the way you’ve written him in the past is very chefs kiss

I didn't expect to churn this one out so fast, but I liked that it was vague and then my imagination took over!

Summary: Steve, Eddie, and Robin all live together. Robin is cat-sitting for Vickie, and Steve is allergic. 💖 1.3k

Rating: 18+ This is pretty tame, but it includes kinky!Eddie and there's one mention of his man-parts. 👌

~*~

“We’re back!” Steve announces to the apartment as Eddie follows him in, arms full of grocery bags.

“Okay!” he hears Robin respond from her room down the hall.  The two boys set the bags down on the kitchen counter and start to put the groceries away. Eddie pulls out a box of cookies and smiles at Steve, waggling his eyebrows exaggeratedly.

“Those are for later,” Steve says, snatching them away and placing them in the cupboard.

“Aww, you’re no fun,” Eddie pouts.

“We gotta make dinner fi-hir- ha-ehXXT!” he sniffs, “First.”

“Bless you,” says Eddie, giving him a teasing wink.

“Thanks. So, for dinner, did you want to do the pasta or the burg-heh- J-Jesus – hih-EKSSH!” He finishes, stifling the sneeze into his fist. Eddie just raises his eyebrows at him, watching. Steve rubs at the tip of his nose with the back of his hand, trying to quell the growing itch there. “I don’t know where these are com’bing frob,” he says, congestion creeping its way into his words.

“It’s a little late for hayfever…” Eddie says, glancing at Robin’s closed bedroom door. Steve is aware of his predilections, but he tries to keep everything under wraps around other people. There was only so much he could get away with when Robin was home.

As if summoned by his thoughts, he hears the creak of her bedroom door and her soft footsteps padding down the hallway.

“Hey guys!  What’s for dinner?” Eddie’s eyebrows just about reach his hairline when he sees her holding a small orange tabby cat in her arms.

“Whadt is that?” Steve asks, hand still pressed to his nose.

“This is Jennyanydots.” Robin says, holding her up and smiling proudly. Seeing her statement met with blank stares, she continues, “The Gumbie Cat…? From CATS? … Andrew Lloyd Webber?”

“Band nerd,” Eddie teases, glancing from Robin to Steve, whose face is starting to contort in preparation for another fit.

“heh’RRSH!  iihh-TISHH!  kx’GSHT!” He bends forward with the force of them, catching them in his cupped hands. “Whad the fugk is it doing here?”

Robin rolls her eyes. “It’s Vickie’s cat, and I’m watching her for a week while her family is on vacation. Their regular cat-sitter had to cancel at the last minute.”

“Robidn, I’m ah- allergic to caaa- ha-TSCHH!”

“To cats,” Eddie finishes for him, eyeing Steve with amusement and barely concealed interest.

“You can’dt have a cadt in h-here for a w-week! Hih-knxxt!”

“I’ll keep her out of your room!” Robin says.

“Thad’s nodt… ha-GKSHU!” He scrubs his nose angrily. “I cadn’t just stay in mby roob for a week!”

“I can think of-” Eddie starts to joke, and decides it’s probably for the best when he’s cut off by-

“iihh-KSHH!  Heh-tssh! …IITCHuh!” Steve grips the counter for support, coming up dizzy in the aftermath.

“Nevermind,” says Eddie, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

“Keep her in your own roob!” Steve argues.

“No! She has to have space to roam free!  If I keep her locked up in my room, she’ll hate me and I can’t have Vickie’s cat hating me, Steve.”

“Whadt about mbe?” Steve asks, gesturing to the mess his face is starting to become. Eddie thinks he should probably grab him a tissue or twenty.

“You said your allergies weren’t that bad!” says Robin.

Having had enough of the yelling, Jennyanydots jumps from her arms to the floor, leaving a cloud of fur in her wake.

“I… hih’KXXT!  Okay, bmaybe I was downplaying themb a bidt.” Steve punctuates his words with a thick sniff.  Eddie looks back and forth between them, entertained but also wishing he could get Steve alone.

“I mean…” Robin looks at Steve with worried eyes. “You’re not going to die, right? Like your throat won’t close up or anything?  I cannot have your death on my hands!  The kids would kill me.”

“Ndo, I’b dnot going to die. I’ll ju-huh-st ha-ESSH!  Heh…eh-KIIISH! I’ll just wish I was dead,” Steve says, swiping a knuckle under his nose.

“You’re being dramatic,” a hopeful accusation from Robin.

“ihh-ISShoo!  Really?!” At this point, Eddie finally decides to run off in search of tissues for his boyfriend, jogging toward the bathroom.

“Don’t you have medicine you can take for it?” Robin says, eyeing the tabby who has sauntered her way over to wind between Steve’s legs.

“Yeah, but- H-hey, gedt-hih gedt thad thigg away frob mbe- hah-ghXXTch!”

“Aww, she likes you!”

“I’b serious, Robidn! EXXTCHH!” He sneezes into his hands, glaring at her from above his fingers.

“Alright, alright, I’m getting her!” Robin grabs the cat and steps several feet away from Steve, but the damage has already been done. Eddie returns from the bathroom clutching the box of tissues, and the first thing he sees is Steve’s face, eyes closed, nostrils pink and irritated. His breath is hitching desperately, mouth open, and he knows the next fit is going to be a big one.

He shimmies up to Steve’s side, plucking three tissues from the box and setting it on the counter. He slaps them into Steve’s open palm and watches as the other man steeples them over his nose. Moving to stand behind Steve, he snakes his hand from Steve’s lower-back around his middle, fingers sneaking under the hem of his shirt.

“I’ll save you if you get dizzy,” he says, trying to keep his voice light. He glances at Robin, hoping she won’t think anything of it beyond Eddie being his usual weird self. She takes that as her cue and realizes she should take the cat back to her room for a bit so Steve can collect himself.

She turns and heads down the hallway with an earnest, “Sorry Steve! Take your meds and we’ll continue this discussion later! Good luck!”

The only response is an echoing, “ha-RSSSH! ESSHHH! ih-hih…gshHOO!  Fugk.” A brief respite allows him to catch his breath, but not for long. With him plastered to Eddie’s front like this, Eddie can feel every hitch, every desperate inhale. He strokes his thumbs against Steve’s stomach, feeling the soft hair there and the defined muscles that contract with every sneeze.

His voice is low and muffled against Steve’s shoulder when he asks, “You got more in there for me?” He feels Steve’s breath hitch as he presses a kiss to the back of his neck. Knows the other man can feel his semi-hard cock digging into the top of his ass.

“heh…ihh-Ha’AETCHHoo! Ah…heh’RRSSShh! IIXXSH! Kk’SHU! Ughh,” he groans, gasping for breath, bent over from the force of them and dizzy with it. Eddie’s arms are firm around his waist.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Get it all out,” Eddie says, running his hands along his sides. Steve’s skin is warm with exertion.  “Do you need-”

“HA-ESSSHHuh! F-fugk, I- hah…ihh’ESSSHHOO!  I cadn’t- hih’RESSSHH!” Curled forward, panting, Steve uses the temporary lull to blow his nose, the crackle of it echoing in the kitchen.

Seeing that the clump of tissues in Steve’s hand is pretty much decimated, Eddie frees one of his hands and leans over to snag a few more from the box. He holds them out in front of Steve who blinks the tears from his eyes and swaps them for the soaked bundle which Eddie sets on the counter. He’ll clean it later, he thinks.

“Guh…dnot ah-agaidn… ESSSH! Hih…hah-ATTSCCHoo! Fugking ca-hah-ATTSSHH!” Eddie holds him steady, hands skirting the tops of his hips. “Why did idt have to be a cadt?” He leans his head back to rest on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, baby,” says Eddie, pressing a kiss to his temple. “We should probably head to our room and get you some meds.”

Steve gives a careful sniff, checking that the fit is mostly over. “Yeah,” he says as Eddie disentangles himself and leads him down the hallway.

“ha-eh’XXSH! We should’ve got mbore Claritin at the grocery store,” he says, holding the crumpled tissues under his leaking nose. “Hih-IISHH! kk’ISSHT!”

“We’ll get more tomorrow,” Eddie says, closing the door to their room and finally pressing Steve up against it. It’s going to be a good week.

[lloydskywalkers]

Hey, I sent this ask once already but I don't think it went through??? (If it did I apologize for bugging you!) I read this fic you wrote a while ago about Lloyd and Ronin talking during season 5 after that part where Morro sends that fake message, and I'd like to read it again but I can't find it? Could you link it please? Sorry again for bothering you.

Hey no don’t worry about it, I’m glad you asked!! One, because I’m almost positive Tumblr ate your other ask; and two, because I am a hundred percent positive Tumblr also ate that particular fic :’) I was going to just repurpose it for a later season 5 fic, but I’ll go ahead and post it below the cut in case you’d like to read it a whole lot sooner XD

If Lloyd was any less exhausted right now, he’d have some choice words for Morro about shoving him in a cage, of all things. 

Because really, of all things, a cage? Again? Morro’s so proud of himself and his precious plan, he could at least get creative while he’s at it. Spice Lloyd’s life up a little every once in a while, instead of sticking with the same stupid routine every other person who’s ever gone after his powers has. 

But unfortunately, Lloyd is so bone-tired right now he doesn’t even know if he could manage a glare hot enough for Morro, and if he’s going to pick a fight with him, he’d like to be able to finish it without passing out from sheer exhaustion in the middle. He’s been humiliated enough, and he’s clinging to the meager shreds of his pride he has left with a stubbornness.  

A stubbornness that’s fading faster than he’d like, so when it takes Ronin three tries before Lloyd realizes he’s saying something to him, it feels a bit like rubbing salt in a wound. 

“Huh?” he manages, scrubbing at his eye and wincing as the bruise behind it throbs. His vision clears a bit, at least, enough to where Ronin stops looking as much like a brown blob on the floor and more like…well, Ronin, tied up on the floor. 

Right, he remembers, with a sinking pit of ice in his stomach. They’d used Ronin to send a message to the others. The thought of his team heading into a trap makes his stomach writhe into painful knots, and he struggles to sit up, as much as he can in the cramped cage. 

“I asked if you were alive up there,” Ronin’s saying. He still looks pale and shaken from when Morro possessed him earlier, but his voice sounds firmer than it did, less like the trembling rasp he’d tried to curse Morro out with before he’d left them both alone. 

Save your strength. I’ll be needing it. 

Morro’s words float through Lloyd’s head like particularly unwelcome knives, and he shoves the thought of what’s coming away.

“I’m—” his attempt at a reply cuts off in harsh coughing, his throat dry and scratchy from hosting Morro’s voice as much as he has. And probably from the lack of hydration. That might have something to do with it. “Yeah, m’alive,” he finally manages, his voice thin. 

“Figured that, with all the racket up there,” Ronin says, but there’s a note of relief in his voice. 

Lloyd doesn’t know what to say back to that, so he shuts his mouth, staring hazily at the bars of the cage as they blur and swim in his vision. Ronin doesn’t say anything either, save for an occasional huff as he twists his arms in his bonds, rubbing his hands together as if to quell the small tremors that still run through them. Lloyd studies him closer, how unnaturally grey his color still is, and his stomach twists again. He knows too well how that feels.  

Maybe he should have picked that fight. 

Lloyd bites his lip, slumping back against the cage bars. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and he hates how young he sounds.

Ronin tilts his head up at him, the corners of his eyes creasing. “What are you sorry for?” he says. “You’ve got it a lot worse than me, kid.”

“Well— maybe, but—” Lloyd stutters. “It’s my…if I hadn’t…I should’ve fought back. When he possessed you, and…everything else.”

“In your shape?” Ronin eyes him, and Lloyd shrinks under his scrutiny. “You look like death warmed over. In a busted microwave. Nice sentiment, kid, but there’s no sense in gettin’ yourself trashed for me.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten trashed,” Lloyd mutters, crossing his arms tighter around himself.

“Yeah, you would’ve, already have,” Ronin scoffs. “You’re just like the rest of ‘em, suicidal hero kids, all of you.”

“I’m the Green Ninja,” Lloyd snaps, hoping desperately that Ronin doesn’t catch the waver in his voice. “I’m not — I should be able to take him. I shouldn’t be here, I should—“

“Please,” Ronin cuts over him, sounding tired. “You’re what, ten?”

Lloyd blinks rapidly, before scowling. “I’m fourteen.”

“—fourteen, FSM help me.” Ronin runs a hand over his forehead, trailing it down to pinch the bridge of his nose. He shakes his head, going silent for a beat.

“Fourteen,” he repeats, voice quieter. “FSM.”

Lloyd doesn’t know what to say back to that, either. He feels very small and a bit stupid, which is kind of how he’s been feeling all the time lately, and he’s not a fan. 

“Still should’ve stopped him,” he finally mumbles, wrapping his arms around his legs so he can rest his chin on his knees. 

“You couldn’t’ve stopped him,” Ronin says, bluntly. “Morro’s crazy, kid. He’s hellbent on that Green Ninja thing, and he’s the kinda hellbent that gets people killed.”

Lloyd frowns. “It’s my title. It’s my job, I want to be able to keep it—“

“Could you kill someone for it?”

Lloyd flinches back, eyes going wide. “Wha— no! No, I couldn’t — wouldn’t, I’m not — I don’t—“

“There you go, kid,” Ronin sighs, cutting over Lloyd’s floundering. “Morro doesn’t care how many people he has to get rid of, so long as he gets that gi. He’s always gonna have that upper hand on you. Different playing fields.”

Lloyd stares at him, taken aback. He’s never thought about it like that before, and he doesn’t think he’d like to. Just because Morro’s more — more bloodthirsty, or whatever, doesn’t mean he’s stronger. It doesn’t mean Lloyd won’t fight for the green gi.

Lloyd presses his lips together. “That doesn’t mean — I’d still fight for it. I-I’d die for it, if I had to.”

“I bet you would,” Ronin snorts, without humor. “But you won’t kill anyone else. Death is only on the board if it’s yours. You’re the worst kind of selfless type, I’ve seen it before.”

Lloyd chews on his lip, at a loss. Talking with Ronin is confusing, he decides, too confusing for the headache that’s building behind his eyes, at least. He keeps ending up lost for words, and he doesn’t like that. Doesn’t like feeling wrong-footed, though that’s definitely nothing new—

“You shouldn’t,” Ronin suddenly says. 

“Huh?”

“Die for it,” he continues, sounding insistent now. “You shouldn’t. Don’t. Your life’s worth a lot more than some scrap of green, kid.”

Lloyd tilts his head, momentarily thrown by the direction the conversation’s turned. “I…I don’t want to,” he admits, weakly. “I just—“

“Then don’t,” Ronin interrupts, bluntly. “Stay alive. Fight dirty if you have to, you’re Garmadon’s kid. Don’t let your family’s never-ending fling with destiny take you down with ‘em.”

“That’s not — I’m not trying to die,” Lloyd insists, irritated now. 

“And you got people waiting for you,” Ronin continues, ignoring him. “Your team, y’know, they’re real anxious to get you back.” A flicker of emotion crosses his face, almost like regret. “They’re uh. Puttin’ up a real fight for ya, kid.”

Lloyd squeezes his eyes shut tightly, fighting back the sudden burn. “I know they are.” 

“Good thing, then. So just, uh. Don’t give up on ‘em, okay? Be a real shame if they gave me this much trouble for nothing.”

Yeah, I’ll bet they gave you trouble, Lloyd thinks, his throat tightening. He shakes his head, blinking back the burn in his eyes. Enough. His family’s out there, fighting for him, and that’s enough for him. 

“I’m not gonna die,” he says fiercely, dragging the fire that’s left in him from the smoldering embers in his chest. “I’m gonna beat him. And then I’m going to end the Cursed Realm, before it ever gets here. And I am not. Going to die.”

Ronin’s eyes flash with an emotion Lloyd can’t name, but he nods, seemingly satisfied. He turns away, the scars on his cheek standing out as he stares through the clouded window. 

“You know what’s in the Cursed Realm, right, kid?”

Ronin’s voice is gravely, rough in ways that makes Lloyd think of the hardened kind of people he’d run into on the streets occasionally. People who were used to life going the worst way possible, and were ready for it. He used to want to be one of those people. Now he thinks he might be scared he’s going to get his wish. 

But there’s an undercurrent of what could be sympathy in Ronin’s voice, if Lloyd looks for it. He swallows.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “Yeah, I know.”

“You good with ending that, too?”

Lloyd swallows again, and this time it gets stuck in his throat.

“I have to be, I guess,” he whispers.

Ronin closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wooden wall, and Lloyd feels kind of like he used to when he’d turn a test in at Darkley’s, and had no idea whether he’d passed or failed. “S’what I thought.”

Lloyd turns his head away, biting his lip hard enough to taste metal. 

He doesn’t know what to say to that, either, so he doesn’t say anything more. 

He’s supposed to be saving his strength, after all. 

[grimbeak]

oh no I am Thinking of a Thing 

“So,” Jay said, eye surveying all the damage that had been done in the battle, “when can we go home and rest? ‘Cause I dunno about you guys, but I’m tired as shit.” The others looked at him with surprisingly judgmental looks on their faces. “What? Look, we just got out of the realm of Oni and Dragon, I was insane for... most of it, and besides-” he pointed towards his younger brother- “Lloyd’s fucking exhausted. If any of us are going to get a chance to rest today, he needs one. As in, right now.” 

“Jay,” Lloyd said carefully. “I’m fine.” He was definitely not fine. 

Misako looked between her two sons, and sighed. “Lloyd, get back to the monastery. Jay’s right- you need rest. Jay,” she added after a moment, “you go with him. Make sure he gets there.”

“Got it.” Jay gave her a mock salute before sauntering over to Lloyd, trying to ignore the dust his coat was throwing up into his eye (eyes, apparently, his eyepatch had fallen off sometime while flying. Annoying.). “C’mon, chosen one, let’s get you home.” He gently pulled Lloyd in the direction of the monastery, and after a moment his brother followed, strangely obedient. Probably in a bit of shock. 

Jay stepped over the rubble of fallen buildings, tugging Lloyd in directions that wouldn’t let his brother see the blood on the ground.

***

Jay closed the door to the monastery after setting Lloyd down on a couch, pulling closed the blinds (no need to have him stare at a ruined city), and turning on the lights. 

He hesitated before sitting down next to the green ninja, arm unconsciously wrapping around him and pulling him closer. Lloyd didn’t react other than leaning into Jay’s side, hair tickling his chin. He was getting taller, Jay noticed. Must’ve gone through another weird growth spurt while they were in another realm. 

...God, at this rate he was going to be the shortest ninja.

The pair were silent, for a while, the only sign of life in the room being the quiet breaths coming from the two of them. Jay absently stared at the door. 

From what he could tell, the monastery hadn’t changed since he and the others left it. Lloyd probably hadn’t been here for a few months either- it was too obvious a place to hide. 

“He killed her.” Lloyd’s quiet voice shook Jay out of his stupor, and he looked over at his brother.

“Who killed who?”

“Garmadon.” Lloyd was silent, for a moment, and when he spoke again Jay could detect the tiniest bit of heartbreak in his voice. “He killed Harumi.” 

Jay’s heart sank.

He hadn’t... He hadn’t trusted Harumi from the beginning, to be honest. Random princess he’d never heard of, suddenly getting close with his younger brother? And there was that whole ‘Sons of Garmadon’ thing that neither Jay or Lloyd had been invited to (seriously, though, he should have at least been important to bringing Garmadon back...), and... He needed to say something reassuring didn’t he. 

“Dad killed her?” Maybe he wasn’t the best at reassuring things. Why wasn’t Cole here? 

“Yeah.” Lloyd wedged himself even more into Jay’s side. The pirate ninja wondered how he wasn’t getting dust into his eyes. “I don’t think he meant to, the building was already going down, but...” He trailed off, and Jay squeezed his arm reassuringly. “...But he still killed her.” Lloyd let out a shaky breath, and Jay was struck with the sudden thoughts of ‘oh-no-he-might-start-crying’ and ‘I-don’t-know-how-to-deal-with-crying’ and also ‘if-mom-finds-out-I-made-him-cry-she’s-going-to-kill-me’. 

“Hey, hey. You’re ok. It’s ok- I mean, it’s not ok that dad killed her- or that dad’s killing anyone at all, really, but... I’m not helping, am I.”

Lloyd let out a broken little laugh. “No, not really.” He sniffled again, rearranging himself so he could bury his face in Jay’s shirt. His voice came out slightly muffled when he spoke again. “He... dad tried to kill me, too.”

Jay froze, the lightning inside him becoming dangerously close to poking through his skin. He forced it down, one hand gripping a phone charger that happened to be located nearby and pushing the electricity into that. “He did?” That was a stupid question, da- Garmadon had tried to kill Jay, too, more than once before he got sucked into the Realm of Oni and Dragon with the other ninja. 

“Mhm. He said-” Lloyd’s voice became choked, and Jay was certain he was going to start crying in a moment- “he said I wasn’t his son.”

God. “Lloyd. Lloyd, look at me.” Jay pushed the green ninja forward slightly so they could see eye-to-eye. He was right- Lloyd was starting to cry, scarily enough. “You’re more of his son than I am, alright?” Was that a good thing to say? Jay’d had to un-learn all the techniques Libber taught him that were apparently abusive (that made a lot of sense, now that he thought about it), but he still accidentally slipped up and used them sometimes.  “He... Even now, I’m sure some part of him still loves you- still knows you, at least.” 

“But he doesn’t,” Lloyd sniffed, “he doesn’t. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t give a single shit about me- about us. He said so himself,” he muttered. “I- I asked him about you, at some point, and-” Lloyd’s breath hitched, and Jay pulled him in for another hug. “He doesn’t even remember you.” 

“That’s okay,” Jay breathed, trying to ignore how much he wanted to scream, to wail, to beg for the one father figure he’s ever had to remember him. “It’s alright- god, this was supposed to be about how you’re feeling, remember?” He laughed, slightly. “At this rate you’re going to be as self-sacrificing as Zane.” He scowled suddenly. “Don’t be like Zane, please. He’s annoying.”

Lloyd let out a hicuppy laugh, pulling away slightly. The stream of wet down his face was starting to cease, and he awkwardly scrubbed at his face with a sleeve, somehow managing not to coat his cheeks in dust. “Got it.”

“And hey-” Jay ruffled his little brother’s hair- “we’ll be standing by you all the time from now on, got it? No more being sucked into realms. We’ll figure out what to do with dad, and we’ll take him down. Together, alright? Together.” 

[butterfly-buck]

SO the ninja are in space huh, let’s see how well they can handle it, this’ll be long but most of my rambling is

(cut because it’s really- i mean really long)

All of the crew were extremely buzzed about going up, as expected

absolutely quaking. all of them

Especially Jay, who’s always quaking

and Kai, whose ego was stroked a little too much from all the social media attention before they left

“We’re making history, guys, the first people on Mars.”

“Kai this is Ninjago’s fourth manned mission to Mars-”

“I’m gonna be the next Armstrong, just watch.”

Kai is simultaneously stoked and petrified that his sister was one of his crewmates

for obvious reasons. Fear for his lil sis but also overjoyed he gets to share the trip with her

Nya is extremely proud to be there

Being the youngest on the crew sucked but having the second most degrees made up for it

in her humble opinion, of course.

Their sibling banter was incredibly contagious

After the first month of meeting them, the Smith siblings had the rest of the crew cracking jokes and keeping a lighthearted air about themselves

something Lloyd, as a first-time commander, was exceptionally grateful for.

Their first liftoff, he was sweating bullets, even with the years of training and preparing he had.

None of them would ever forget their first time looking out of the spacecraft’s window at Ninjago, realizing just how big their planet was, and hitting it home that the galaxy was infinitely bigger.

Lloyd felt so small.

It was dangerous, uncharted waters ahead, a universe that did not cooperate. That was pummeled into the poor guy’s head.

“It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, huh?”

It wasn’t until Jay made that joke and effectively spawned their first chuckle in space that Lloyd actually remembered he needed to breathe.

Jay was probably the least visibly anxious about the trip

Which was. a revelation, to everyone who knew him

but inwardly he’d be terrified, and his tells would be the little things he does to cope

He’d do things like reach into his suit’s pocket and pull out a stick of gum. “Hey Cole, you want some?”

“Where’d you even get that??”

“7-Eleven.”

“What—”

Cole is everyone’s emotional support.

but that doesn’t stop him and Jay from teasing each other almost nonstop

“There’s no plants on the ship, dirtclod, what kind of tasks do you have to do anyway?”

“Keeping you guys from blowing up the place, zaptrap.”

“Then why are you sitting by me instead of Kai??”

Of course, he was the reason they had such a variety of food on the ship. He grows the fruits and vegetables

but he isn’t allowed to make their meals.

Ever.

His first harvest a month into the trip was great! But trying to combine that with their normal space food was a disaster

The team was almost able to say none of them threw up during the trip. Almost.

After that... incident, they rearranged the tasks for Zane to take Cole’s place on his cooking days, and no one protested

because the robot’s cooking was good

like. really good

Who knew a surgeon bot could cook?

For the first few months, the crew wasn’t sure exactly what the android was capable of.

Jay thought it was the coolest thing ever that they had a robot in their crew.

“We. Have. A DROID ON OUR SPACECRAFT, GUYS! It’s just like—!”

“No, it’s not like that, Jay.”

To say Kai was a little weird about Zane was an understatement.

He didn’t treat him horribly but he wasn’t hospitable

To Kai’s defense, it took them all a while to realize the level of Zane’s sentience

Zane wasn’t exactly open about it though, not even to Lloyd and Nya

who’d been nice enough to ask for more than calculations and status updates: his opinions and thoughts. Something he was very grateful for, even if he didn’t always show it

In fact, it wasn’t until they got to Mars, and he shared in all of their breathless awe of the unforgiving planet that it clicked for the rest of them

They look over, expecting the android to be stoic as usual, only to see he’s as slack-jawed in wonder as they are

Jay practically explodes

“I KNEW IT! I TOLD YOU GUYS HE FEELS EMOTIONS! I WON THE BET!”

The loser of said bet stubbornly refuses to admit who he was

(It was Kai. Everyone knew)

Jay will never let him live it down

After that, their first few steps on the red planet were unforgettable.

The sand.

real gravity

weather. in general

You never know how much you’d miss it until you lose it for a long couple of months

even if it was reported to reach levels that could potentially force the crew to scrub the mission.

(yeah that was foreshadowing, bite me)

The crew was looking up, even with their future so undetermined. All they knew is they had to keep their wits about them.

It’s a dangerous mission

One that could easily go wrong.

Because space? Space does not cooperate

[master-of-cosmos]

Imprint [Ninjago Fic]

apparently some people are calling this ‘whumptober,’ so you know what that means! entersroomhoppingonmyhighheels.gif

it’s quick oneshot-inspired-by-@rinas-ninjas‘ palette-challenge-art time ❤️ that stuff is right up my alley y’all don’t even know. anyway, this is also a bit of a thank you gift to @lloydskywalkers for always being so supportive of this fandom’s writer community and such an inspiration in her own work! i absolutely do not deserve all the love you’ve given TMS, so you completely deserve some post-s4 brotherly bonding hun 💚💚

content warning: there’s lots of blood and a very likely upsetting way it’s taken care of because of the way it’s described, so please don’t read if you’re under 13 or sensitive to these things!

~~~~~

Kai wasn’t exactly expecting things to go back to normal right away. The team could still laugh with each other and band together against an enemy like nothing changed, but it’d be naive to think that, once everything settled down, there wouldn’t be some hitches.

He just didn’t think Lloyd would be one of them.

It’s three in the morning, and he’s already awake. Rolling over onto his back, he stares up at the ceiling in the guest room he’s been staying in since they got back from Chen’s outright lousy island. He blinks a few times, wondering what pulled his brain out of his coma so early.

Soft - slow - footsteps pad down the hall outside. Right, it’s time for Lloyd’s patrol. His actual one today, apparently. He’s been randomly stealing everyone’s shifts after Anacondrai gang wannabes started cropping up, inspired by Chen in spite of what happened to him.

In spite of what Sensei Garmadon sacrificed to stop him. Weeks ago.

A whole month has gone by, and Lloyd still won’t talk to anyone about it, least of all Kai. And Kai, in particular, has barely been able to have a conversation with him about anything without the kid stuttering and finding something else to do that cuts off the interaction like an axe to his neck.

He knows perfectly well why.

Kicking off the blanket, he drags himself out of bed and slips on his sandals.

He’s got no one else to blame but himself that Lloyd’s scared of him now, so he let this go on for too long. He’s not sure what’s come over him about it, but at some point in the last few days, he decided he’s putting a stop to it, any act he can do at a time.

He has to show Lloyd that he can still rely on him. That he’s trustworthy and useful and not a screw up and worth more to the team than the shattered bathroom mirror says.

His hurry down the hall causes a yawning audience to trail him, Jay mumbling, “Where’s the fire?”

Lloyd’s about to step out when he makes it to the foyer. “Hey,” he calls.

Freezing, Lloyd tilts his head back a little, answering with a hesitant, “Yeah?”

Ignoring Cole and Jay behind him, Kai moves further into the room, mustering his nerve to say, “I can take your shift. If you want.”

“It’s fine. I got it,” he responds quickly as he turns to Kai. He wavers a little bit, and the dark circles under his wide eyes stand out in Zane’s reading light.

Catching Kai’s drift, Cole gently suggests, “Lloyd, maybe it’s better for you to stay in.”

“I…appreciate the concern, but this is something I need to do,” Lloyd asserts back, his jaw locked from annoyance.

It’s clear to Kai that Lloyd’s been using the patrols to ignore what happened to his dad. Maybe he’s trying to put off sleep, too. Both worried about that and absorbing Lloyd’s aggravation like a sponge, Kai huffs, “Look, dude, it’s obvious you’re tired. Just let me cover you for one night.”

“I said it’s fine. You don’t want to be here anyway,” Lloyd bites, hardly even looking at the others when he says it, and storms out of the dojo so fast that Kai can only stare as the door slams shut.

Oh.

Kai braces himself on the front counter, squeezing his eyes shut. That’s what’s wrong. They - he - left Lloyd all alone. Of course he feels like he has to do everything like that now.

Jay humphs a little and rubs his eye, heading back upstairs as he tiredly jokes, “Well, my shift’s always open.”

Following him, Cole pats Kai’s shoulder. “Let the kid grieve in his own way. He’ll come around.”

Easy for you to say, Kai thinks. He has it on good authority that throwing yourself into work to avoid your feelings doesn’t help in the long run.

“Are you all right?” Zane asks from his chair on the other side of the room, the giant book he’s been chipping away at for three nights abandoned in his lap.

Straightening, Kai tightly answers, “Yep.”

“I am certain you will think of a way to help him,” he states, returning to his book.

Well, he already has. He races back up to his room and throws on his gi. With his comm-link in his ear, he doesn’t waste time running back downstairs. Instead, he leaps out the window as he summons his elemental dragon and takes off after his little brother.

He’s going to prove to Lloyd that he won’t just leave him on his own again.

~~~~~

A few miles out from his dad’s dojo, Lloyd rides his dragon along his patrol route and fights tears, scrubbing at his face every few moments. Stupid Kai, he thinks, but then he shakes his head, mumbling, “Stupid me.”

Somewhere inside, he’s happier than anything to have the team back together. He knew how much he missed them, but it feels a million times better actually being able to watch them work hard in the training yard, hearing them laugh at the breakfast table, everyone saying “good morning” and then “goodnight,” just like it used to be.

But he got used to his dad.

Lloyd can’t keep himself from running through scenarios that might have saved him, and some of those possibilities include things he would never voice, like not taking the challenge at all. But because he wouldn’t do something like that, Dad got to suffer the consequences.

A scream splits him from his thoughts.

“Where?” he asks the night, searching the ground. In a secluded alley, he spots what looks like three men corning a woman.

He sends his dragon into a dive for them, landing it between her and the attackers. It roars before he banishes it and readies his stance. “If you guys know what’s good for you, you’ll leave right now,” he threatens, lighting his power in his hands.

“It’s the Green Ninja,” one of them shouts to his buddies.

“Get him!”

The three drawing knives, they descend on him.

He cuts out the energy and dodges the closest man’s knife, noting the Anacondrai tattoo on his wrist. Grabbing the extended arm, Lloyd hurls the body at the next one. While they untangle themselves, he punches the third in the gut, grabbing his head when he doubles over and slamming his face on a nearby electrical unit.

The second kicks his kneecap from where he still lies on the ground, but Lloyd jumps back enough before the attack can fully connect. With a small yell, he blasts the man’s chest.

Left alone now, the first tries his luck again, charging at Lloyd with his knife held above his head. A high kick knocks it from his hand, and one more solid kick to his solar plexus takes him out.

With a stumble that he locks down on, Lloyd moves over to the woman crouched in the corner. “Hey, you’re safe now,” he says soothingly, extending his hand.

She looks up from her knees and stares at it before she takes it, her own hand trembling.

“It’s alright,” he consoles as he helps her stand. “Do you live around here?”

Wordlessly, she nods, clutching her purse close to her body.

He steps back to give her some space. “Do you need to call someone? Or, uh, I can take you there.” He accepts her careful step forward as an answer and turns around to leave the alley. Mostly to himself, he mutters, “I need to let the police know about these guys. Should’ve brought a rope or some―”

Normally, he’d never let anyone get the drop on him, especially not someone he could take without even looking, but Kai’s right. He’s tired. Distracted. Stressed and not keeping his guard up when he should, but how could he? She’s just an innocent person who needed help.

She’s not holding a switchblade, and that’s not his blood. It couldn’t be.

“It’s your fault,” she spits, circling around him. “You let those Anacondrai warriors attack my home. My children.”

Gasping, Lloyd backs against the wall the woman was just cowering against, his hand pressed to the throbbing fire in his side. “I-I’m sorry. We did―”

“Save it for your maker!” She steps over one of the men and kicks him, barking, “Get up.” The three of them groan as they comply. She hands her knife to the one who stands up first and orders, “Now finish it.”

Lloyd sucks in deeper breaths as he pushes himself to straighten. He can ignore the pain and pretend he doesn’t feel it long enough. With his teeth bared, he calls up another two energy orbs, warning, “Stay. Away.”

The man just smirks and keeps inching closer, so Lloyd pitches a sphere at him, knocking him clear out of the alley. Scrambling back to his feet, he squeaks, “Forget this,” and runs off.

Lloyd manages to re-energize his empty hand before the others get any more ideas, bending his knees and glaring, daring them.

“Yeah, I’m out. I didn’t sign up to kill him,” the second man says. The third follows after him.

The woman glowers at their retreat but makes no effort to stop them. Snapping her purse shut, she looks back at Lloyd, bitterly stating, “You may have this city worshiping you, but you don’t fool me.” And with that, she leaves him alone.

His energy orbs sputter out, taking his grip on equilibrium with them. The ground falls away like a tunnel as he staggers back a step, but he shuts his eyes and shakes his head sharply. He’ll be fine. He can get home and have this taken care of, no problem. He just needs his dragon.

Trying to summon it nearly sends him to the concrete. So he’s too freaked out to do that.

He can walk then. Find someone with a phone or something. The knife was pretty thin, wasn’t it? It can’t be bad enough that he won’t be able to walk.

One foot in front of the other. Not difficult. One step, next step, and then the next―

He gasps so hard he sees stars and has to catch himself on the wall. Restraining a scream in his throat doesn’t do much to chase away the incessant throb, but it helps the frustration building faster around his racing heart.

Flipping over, his back hits the wall. It’s practically the only thing holding him up, and that makes ice run down his spine.

He’s not as knowledgeable on anatomy as he should be, but he has a vague understanding that where she stabbed him is close to a cluster of nerves. On reflection, he instinctively twisted his torso just in time; she was probably going for his kidney or the giant artery beside it. A common target for someone who wants to cause pain.

Great, now he needs to know how bad it is.

He reaches around to touch the excruciating point under his ribs, hissing when his hand fumbles over it. Holding them up to the light of a distant streetlamp, he finds his fingers glazed in red, a mini pool of it in his palm.

A tremor’s already wracking his whole arm, and there’s warmth seeping across his lower back, stolen from his limbs.

He’s been injured and bled before, but this. It’s too much for him to deal with by himself. The pain, the fear, the knowledge of why all gather together behind his eyes and spill out as he murmurs, “Oh god.”

But there’s hope. He’s still got a spark of it. With the others home again, he has one last option.

Tapping his comm, he forces his voice to steadily enough ask, “K-Kai?”

His heart drops to his stomach when his brain promptly supplies, What if they  went back to sleep? Nobody’s listening. Even if he does hear you, the dojo’s miles away.

No one’s gonna be able to come for him. He’s in real trouble now, and it’s all because he was a jerk and didn’t let them be a team even though that’s the exact thing he wanted, and god, what’s Dad gonna think? Is he even in a real afterlife? Oh god, he’s never seeing him again. He’s gonna die out here, or some other day, and it won’t even matter―

“What’s up, Lloyd? You’re kind of staticky.”

He wants to laugh in relief, but the pain’s killing him enough, and as cloudy as it’s making his senses, he heard the worry in Kai’s voice despite the effort he used to hide it.

With his fleeting strength, he manages, “I-I need h-help.”

~~~~~

Ten minutes.

He was only ten minutes behind Lloyd.

Kai can’t hear anything outside his comm. He can barely see besides the blurry lines that are supposed to be streets he soars above. The only reason he knows Nya heard him when he told her to notify a hospital is because she commanded him to keep Lloyd talking.

“Yeah, and what’d he say to that?”

“Jeez. Gene was…s-so mad. Said..said he’d get me back f-for sure.”

“Tell me you got him first.”

“I-I tried, but I d-didn’t know where..to find…scor-scorpions.” He laughs at himself, but the sound chokes off with a gasp.

“Lloyd?”

“Are you close?”

“Yeah. Yeah, buddy, two minutes. Just sit tight.”

“A-awesome.”

“I know where we can get a couple.”

“What?”

“Scorpions. We can still get that jerk.”

“H-he’s nice…n-now…Remember? Don’t..be mean.”

“Right, yeah. We ruined a perfectly good bad boy, didn’t we? Too nice for your own good, Lloyd.”

Instead of answering, Kai just hears sniffling and measured groaning like Lloyd’s trying to control the pain.

He’s about to ask how he’s doing when Lloyd speaks up again. “Is…is that what’s…wrong with me?”

“Nothing’s wrong with you, man.”

“B-but if I was mean, then…then Dad might still―”

“Hey, hey, listen. None of that was your fault. Okay? Can you see me? I think I’m over the right street.”

It takes Lloyd a minute before he hums, “Mhm. F-fire…dragon.”

“Yeah, bud. I’m right here. You’re gonna be fine.” Kai doesn’t see him, though. It’s still pretty dark, and the alley’s crowded with junk.

A green orb floats up from beside a big power box.

Kai drops his dragon and banishes it just before they hit the ground, flipping off it to break the fall. He’s at Lloyd’s side in a near instant, looking him over where he sits against the square unit, one arm bent around his torso.

Bleary eyed, Lloyd smiles at him. “Y-you made it.”

“’Course I did.” He resists the urge to yank his hair out, sinking his tooth into his cheek instead. There’s blood all over the concrete, a smudged handprint on the brick wall. Lloyd moves his arm so Kai can see, and from what he can tell, the wound’s still bleeding. His gi has a jagged rip going down, like the attacker cut into him before she got the leverage needed to sink the knife in deep.

Immediately, he presses his hand to it, making Lloyd flinch. He tries so hard to be calm, but he can’t get the terror out of his voice when he demands, “God, Lloyd, why’d you leave it like this?”

“M’sorry,” Lloyd groans in a cracking voice, slumping forward.

Kai puts his other hand on his shoulder, noticing the abandoned hood and gi sash wadded in soaked piles. Swallowing his nausea, he alternates brushing Lloyd’s arm and hair, saying, “No, it’s alright, okay? It’s gonna be fine. Nya’s already got an ambulance on the way. They’ll be here any minute.”

Shaking his head, Lloyd gasps, “Too late. T-they’re gonna be―” Suddenly distressed, he huffs and whines, “Kai…”

Kai nudges him upright. “What? Tell me.”

Lloyd’s head lolls to the side and back against the metal box before he pushes himself to lean over on his elbow, grimacing. He tugs the end of his gi aside, exposing the injury. It’s the way he pinches his brows and further labors his breathing, his expression miserably expectant as his neck gives out on him, tears and beads of sweat bouncing off his face from the movement. It says enough.

“N-no,” Kai croaks. Stronger, he says, “Lloyd, no, I can’t do that to you,” standing as he recoils.

“I-I’m gonna…bleed―” He winces, raggedly continuing, “Bleed out..i-if you don’t.”

Kai yanks on his hair anyway, but he glances back at Lloyd.

His dark circles stand out worse, a sunken mask on his paling face, and his eyelids droop despite how he’s fighting to keep them open. With the arm he’s propped on trying to shake out from under him, he’s almost lying down, each shallow pant pushing him lower bit by bit.

And now that Kai can see it, he’s losing too much blood. It’s just leaving him in small yet constant pulses, four black rivulets dripping down his stomach and adding to the puddle on the ground.

He’s right. Why does he have to be right?

Kai takes Lloyd’s weight off his arm, wrapping his under it and along to his little brother’s back, and gathers the green cloth there in his fist to keep it out of the way. “Just― just hold onto me, alright? Don’t let go.”

Lloyd nods. His arms come up around Kai’s torso and across his shoulder blades, squeezing with all the strength he’s got.

His right hand free, Kai closes his eyes and ignites it.

Or, he tries to. It doesn’t respond instantly like it should, only giving off smoke. The consequence of his own reluctance.

Sensing the hangup, Lloyd mutters, “I can…handle it..pro-promise.”

Kai inhales, letting the air out slow. “You better.” He snaps his wrist again, the fire lighting up the alleyway. For a few extra seconds, he makes it burn hotter than he usually needs before he pulls the flames down to a dull orange smoulder in his palm. “Ready? On three.”

He’s not ready, and Lloyd tenses, burying his face in Kai’s shoulder.

“One. Two…T-three.”

For the second time, Kai presses his hand on the wound.

As promised, mostly, Lloyd toughs it out at first. He keeps the pain deep in his throat, but eventually the groan turns shrill, and then he’s screaming and struggling not to writhe.

Kai wants to scream with him, but he won’t. Maybe he can’t either. All he can do is hold onto Lloyd tighter as he tries to block out the sound under his hand.

He turns his focus to how the muscles in his back seize around Lloyd’s fists from the energy he’s started channeling on agonized reflex. He gets kneed in the ribs, too, and he’d lose his grip if the slick blood wasn’t burned away.

Burned. Burning. He’s burning his baby brother.

Why didn’t he think to heat up a knife or something instead? Why’s he using his hand for it? Why’d he let Lloyd convince him to do this at all? He should’ve just carried him to the hospital on his dragon, or better yet, he never should have let any of this happen.

“I’m sorry,” Kai yells, screwing his eyes shut. Just a few more seconds, just enough to make sure it’s cauterized fully. He can’t risk messing up because if Lloyd has to suffer for nothing, then he―

Kai’s gonna―

Lloyd loses his strength to keep screaming, and then Kai’s muscles relax only a fraction when the scrabbling limbs behind him fall slack.

Enough. It has to be enough.

Ripping his hand away, he crushes Lloyd in both arms, unable to stop rocking him or repeating apologies. Not just for this. He’s sorry for everything ― the betrayal, the staff, for leaving and allowing so much time to go by that it ended up leading to now.

Lloyd probably can’t understand any of it. He just hiccups while he cries, slowly quieting until he’s too limp in Kai’s hold.

The paramedics find them like that, but they’re all strangers, and one of them talks to Kai while another tries to pry Lloyd away from him. He’s gonna blast them in their throats if they don’t shut up and stop and get their hands away.

But then the Bounty’s sailing overhead, and Nya’s getting through to him as Lloyd’s taken to someone who can actually help a hell of a lot better.

He clenches his fists the entire flight over to the hospital, refusing to look at his own hands.

~~~~~

Kai gets an earful later about how ‘incorrectly’ he handled the situation, and Master Wu adds ‘proper field medicine’ to their training schedule, but ultimately, everyone hugs him and cries and are so thankful he’d at least ‘been there to do something,’ and he doesn’t remember a whole lot of it.

He knows the others have been worried for him now, too, though.

He hasn’t been able to eat anything cooked if he’s around while it’s being prepared. Zane picks up on that in record time and starts making oatmeal and cold-cut sandwiches for him instead.

Cole and Jay learn real quick that if they ask Kai for help with fire-related needs, then his powers won’t respond. Fighting is the only thing it’s felt like doing, and fight it does. They steer clear of him when he goes out to the training yard.

Nya keeps looking at him with a face that’s so sad, like she wants to help him but doesn’t know how, he can’t help it. He retreats to his room and hides under the blanket for hours until the world stops spinning and he can breathe without needing to think about it.

But Lloyd heals fast, so there’s that.

The cops want to track down the people who attacked him, but he refuses to help, muttering something like, “She’s a mom.”

That doesn’t stop Kai from trying to find the woman himself, but he has nothing to go on, and the cops have better resources. They catch her pretty soon after that.

He does have the power to scare other Anacondrai wannabes into never showing their faces again. He gets another earful for that, but it’s worth it to rest at least a little easier.

Things get better after Lloyd comes home, where Kai can see him and be reassured.

He seems better, too. He spends more time with everyone, participates in conversations, and doesn’t run away from Kai anymore.

The thing is, Kai thinks he should. Especially now.

The heat index today’s like a hundred and ten degrees. It doesn’t really bother Kai, but the others already went inside after training as much as they can stand. Lloyd’s not done sparring, though. Said he feels like he fell behind and wants to keep going for another half hour.

But it’s still really hot out for him, so he’s folding his shirt and setting it on one of the benches before he heads back over to Kai to resume their match.

And Kai isn’t sure what he thought would be there. He knew Lloyd had to have been scarred, but he didn’t know. It didn’t occur to him at all how it’d look.

Under Lloyd’s ribs, close to his lower back, it’s a reddened, indistinct patch of burned scarring surrounding a handprint.

It looks like a violation, like a betrayal of Lloyd’s trust and Kai’s job as the Green Ninja’s protector.

He practically collapses as he sits down on the packed dirt. He waves his hand dismissively and pants, “I’m done,” when Lloyd looks at him, confused.

His confusion shifts to narrowed worry as he glances towards the scar. Carefully, he says, “You saved my life.”

Kai pulls his legs in, one hand on his thigh while the other scrapes at his forehead. “I know…I know.” He ends up ripping at his hair, closing his eyes tight. “It’s just. Everything. All of it.”

After a second, Lloyd’s kneeling in front of him. He’s put his shirt back on and has that stupid, sad face that’s gonna send Kai packing. But he can’t leave because Lloyd catches onto his shoulder and says, “You can’t hurt me, Kai.”

“But I―” Kai’s already pounding heart speeds up, making him dizzy, because he did. He let them shackle Lloyd and steal his power and drop poison on him, and he’s alone. He’s bleeding. Kai’s burning him, so who’s to say he would have dropped the staff? “I’m―”

“Hey,” Lloyd interjects, shaking him once. “You. Can’t. Hurt me. Alright?” He harshly emphasizes the words, except they’re gentle, kind, more than Kai deserves, but if he can still have conviction like that, then Kai can try to accept it.

Eventually.

His head bows. He can’t get his heart to stop demanding to fly out of his chest. It hurts, it hurts, he’s sinking, and he wants to hide because this feeling won’t go away out in the open.

“Look at me,” Lloyd says, a beacon of calm. “Just breathe. In and out. Copy me, okay?”

He does. He feels completely stupid because whatever’s wrong with him is nothing compared to what he put his little brother through, but he looks up and matches Lloyd’s exaggerated breaths.

Minutes go by as the world melts away and rebuilds itself enough to steady him, Lloyd’s presence somehow a foundation for it.

Swiping at his eyes, Kai nods when he’s fine. He huffs out a short laugh, asking, “S-someone teach you that?”

Lloyd gives him a hand up and mumbles, “Yeah. Um, Dad did.”

“Oh.”

The floodgates open with that. Kai listens while Lloyd talks about Garmadon for the first time since his funeral, the conversation leading to shared stories and lessons the man taught them both and on to experiences the ninja had with him before Lloyd got to meet him.

He does mess up again, really soon actually, but at least this time Lloyd knows someone’s coming to save him.

~~~~~

overuse of adverbs and unbroken dialogue signals that this is a ‘doodle’ lol

and because it is, i didn’t feel up to writing much more – i just want to point out here that lloyd absolutely does internalize the fact that he traumatized kai, so jot that down

*pats their heads* these beans can fit so much angst in them!

[the-gray-ghosty]

LLoyd dyes his hair/sibling fluff

so I have seen the idea where LLoyd dyes his hair, and decided i’d write about it but with some sibling fluff added in. (Mostly Lloyd, Nya, and Skylar.) Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Skylar’s POV~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What colors do you want?” Skylar asks Lloyd, looking at all of the options of hair dye.

“I think that sky blue is pretty,” Nya says, pointing at the light blue dye on the shelf,  

“But you can do whatever you want.” Nya says with a kind smile. 

Lloyd picks up the blue she brought up and puts it in the basket Skylar is holding. He then grabs a green bottle from the shelf and looks at it. 

“I like this one, it's bright.” Lloyd says as he looks at the girls. “What do you think?” 

“I think it's great!” Skylar says as she puts it in the basket. She loves the color green on Lloyd, and is glad he is also going for blue. It will look pretty damn cool. 

“Now we need gloves and a shower cap. I'll get the cap, you guys want to go find the gloves?” Skylar asks the two ninjas. They both nod and walk away. Skylar laughs to herself as she sees the clock on the wall of the convenience store they are at. It reads 12:34am. Nya and Skylar were having a sleepover when they had both woken up to screaming coming from Lloyd's room. They rushed in and found him having a terrible nightmare. Nya woke him up and tried to calm him down, for he often has mental breakdowns after nightmares this bad. After they calmed him down Nya whispered to her how they should distract him and Skylar mentioned hair-dying. That's how they ended up here. She wasn’t upset though. She would do Anything for Lloyd, especially after he saved her (and carried her halfway across Ninjago) during their fight with the colossus. 

She turns the corner to see Lloyd and Nya physically wrestling for a bag. It’s a  neon pink shower cap. Lloyd looks up from where he is laying on the ground and quickly jumps up, muttering something about stupid pink shower caps. 

“You gotta help me Skylar,” he says breathlessly while Nya stands in triumph behind him. 

“Nya wants me to wear a pink shower cap and I really don't want to.” he starts to smile, then laughs. Skylar knows that he really doesn't care, it's more for fun and his pride. 

“Awwww I think you would look beautiful in it Lloyd, and that's 2 out of 3 votes so sorry bud.” she says with a shit-eating grin. Lloyd laughs and puts the cap in the basket.  They walk up to the counter, passing the candy aisle. Skylar pretends to not notice when Lloyd gets a handful of candy bars into the basket, smiling like a little kid. He kinda is a little kid, she thinks sadly, remembering the tea. 

The dude at the counter looks half asleep, and surprised they are there, which is weird because Lloyd and Nya fighting for the cap was definitely not quiet. 

They walk out into the dark street with their bags, and Skylar slightly shivers from the crisp air. Lloyd hands her his sweatshirt, which she realizes isn't his sweatshirt as she puts it on. 

“Is this Coles?” she asks, pointing to the symbol of earth on the back. 

“Yea, I took it from him.” Lloyd says with a smug grin. 

“He has very comfy hoodies.” Nya adds on. “I steal his sweatpants too.”

Both laugh at that, and  Skylar giggles. 

Lloyd and Nya create their power dragons and Skylar jumps on the dragon with Lloyd, and they fly for about 15 minutes up to the monastery.

~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~nobody’s POV~~~~~~~~~~~~

After they sneaked back into the monastery they settled in Nya’s bedroom/bathroom. They all know Nya has the biggest bathroom so that’s where it would be best to dye Lloyd’s hair. 

“I'm so excited!” Lloyd exclaims happily while setting up the dyes on the counter. He adds-

“I’ve always wanted to dye my hair!” and Nya rubs his golden locks and snorts.

“What do you think Kai’s reaction will be? And Wu, and everyone else?” she asks the two others smiling. Lloyd and Skylar start laughing, both imagining everyone’s reactions. 

Nya then claps her hands together and dramatically exclaims;

“Well Lloyd, you ready to become beautiful?” 

“I'm already beautiful, but hell yea!” Skylar snorts at that response from the green ninja. 

Skylar squeezes each bottle of dye (green and blue) into their seperate bowls while Nya makes Lloyd sit in the big chair in front of the mirror and she starts sectioning off his hair. 

“I guess after this the boys won't be able to call you Rapunzel anymore.”

 Nya laughs at Skylar’s comment and shakes her head. 

“The boys and their dumb nicknames, I swear.” she mutters, snickering. 

Skylar turns on Nya’s music speaker and turns on auto-play for some background sound, then walks over and helps Nya section off Lloyd's hair. 

~~~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Too late to turn back now, green-bean.” Nya states excitedly as she starts dying his hair. Nya was painting with the green dye while Skylar was painting with the blue dye. They had bought gloves and rubber bands at the store also, the bands were around sections telling each girl where to dye what color. 

Lloyd slightly clears his throat and starts talking to the girls;

“To be honest, I'm really excited. I have been wanting a change for a while, and this is so fun! It's also...it's really nice of you guys to do this for me. I know it's really late, and...thanks.”

“Aww Lloyd you are so sweet! I would give you a hug but my hands are kind of covered in blue so you will get hugged later.'' Skylar says with a laugh. Nya nods in harmony. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~time skip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Ready to rinse it out?” 

“Hell yes!” Lloyd cries as he jumps up off the chair and runs over to the bathtub, where he turns on the water. It's been an hour of sitting, waiting for the dye to sink in. Nya walks over and scrubs the back of his head. There is soooo much dye coming out of his hair, running into the tub. 

“FSM this better not stain my bathtub.” Nya mutters. Lloyd chitters at that. 

After about 15 minutes of Lloyd rinsing off his hair, he sits back into the chair and Skylar grabs the blow dryer.

Skylar combs and dries his hair, and Nya sits on the counter and watches. Lloyd is faced away from the mirror because he insisted it had to be a surprise.

“Whether it's a good surprise or a bad surprise, I don't know” he says with a laugh and a huge smile on his face. 

It’s now about 3:30am, and it's a surprise none of the other ninjas have woken up. They aren't really being that quiet, Lloyd thinks, listening to the Katy Perry coming out of the speaker. 

“And...we’re done!” Skylar exclaims as Nya and Lloyd cheer. 

“Are you ready to see your hair?” 

“Heck yes!” Lloyd declared and spun the chair around. 

“WOAH THIS IS SO AWESOME!!” Lloyd jumps up and runs his hands through his now green and blue hair. 

“I LOVE IT!!” he cries out as he snatches both Skylar and Nya in a hug. 

“Thank you both, you are amazing; the best sisters I could ever ask for.” Skylar beams with happiness at that comment, and Nya giggles. 

“Well I don't know about any of you, but I am dead tired,” Nya starts to say, watching Lloyd play with his new colored hair. 

“Do you guys wanna hit the sack?” 

Skylar nods and turns off the lights in the bathroom. 

“We can clean up tomorrow.'' Lloyd tittered at that and started walking to the door. 

Nya jumps up. “Wait, why don't you sleep in here with us?” 

Lloyd turns to face her as Skylar adds; 

“Yes we have a mattress in the closet, here let me-” she jumps up and runs into the closet, pulling out a foam mattress and some blankets. Lloyd absolutely beams. 

“Thanks guys, this means so much” he states as he lays down on the make-shift bed, knowing that he wont have any more nightmares tonight. 

“Honestly though I can’t wait for everyone's reactions, we will have to make a plan tomorrow to show them.'' Skylar says while giggling. “Goodnight guys.” She hears 2 responses and falls asleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~morning, 9am~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~Lloyd’s POV~~~~~~~

Lloyd wakes up to giggling and realizes he isn't in his own bed. He panics, then remembers what happened last night. He rolls over and sees his sisters laying on Nya’s bed watching TV. 

“Morning girls! He cheerfully exclaims as they both jump, neither had noticed he was awake. 

Nya sits up and smiles at the boy with colored hair. 

“I'm sooooo excited to show the team!” Nya says quickly, and Skylar and Lloyd both laugh in agreement. 

“We need to make a plan, are they all awake yet?” he asks the girls.

“Yes, they are all awake. Zane came up and asked us if you wanted to play videogames with them but we refused. We told him you were still sleeping.'' Skylar tells Lloyd as he stands up and stretches. 

“They are all in the video game room, even Wu.-” Skylar gasps. “What if Nya and I went down and watched them play, totally normal right? Then you come down and just sit down next to us, like nothing is wrong? You know how they get with videogames, we should see how long it takes them to notice!” Lloyd snorts and starts laughing at this idea. 

“Hell yes, that is what we are doing.” 

Both Nya and Skylar have huge grins on their faces as they walk downstairs and sit on the farthest away couch from the couch the other ninja are on in the gaming room. A couple of the guys say good morning, (Cole, Zane and Jay) but none of the others really notice they are there.

That's when chaos starts. When Lloyd walks in.

It was fine when he first walked in, saying good morning. He walks in front of the other boy’s couch and goes to sit with Nya. Cole is the first to notice. He doubles back, staring at Lloyd, then bursts out laughing. Zane and Jay turn to see what he is laughing at and see it. Zane isn't fazed, just says;

“Cool look!” While Jay on the other hand jumps up and runs to Lloyd, grabbing a handful of his now green/blue hair, saying

“OH MY GoSH THIS IS SO COOL! WHEN DID YOU DO THIS???” to which Nya responds with;

“Last night.” with a smug grin and Skylar nods. 

Wu had just put a hand on his forehead and looked either disappointed or trying not to smile. Actually, Lloyd thought, he looked both. 

That’s when Kai ran over, and saw. He looks like he’s about to pass out. That's what makes Lloyd lose it. The look on Kai’s face of confusion. He is laughing so hard there are tears in his eyes and the girls are giggling as well.

After the chaos slows down, Lloyd answers the big questions; 

“We did it last night, around 3am I think.” he responds, looking at Nya for confirmation, she nods, saying that yes it was around 3am. That's when Jay noticed something. 

“Wait, green and blue? That's my color! Does that mean I'm your favorite brother?” Kai then jumps up and retorts; “Obviously I'm his favorite brother.”  The two start bickering, but not meanly, more like brotherly-arguing. 

Lloyd steps in and stops the argument by saying

“Actually if the blue stands for anyone here it's Nya.” Nya beams and looks at the boys with a look that says “Ha Ha Ha I Win!” Lloyd snickers.  

Lloyd gets many more nicknames from his brothers after dying his hair, but he loves how colorful it is. And a few months after it wore out, he went to his sisters for help dying it again, this time pink.

[vedj-f-bekuesu]

At this point I’m just watching the seasons to keep the momentum going after two great (and one flawed but still okay) seasons. With Friday being a Bank Holiday, I might get the rest of the pre-11 stuff wrapped up by the weekend. But enough of the future, how about the season I watched, Sons of Garmadon?

It had a lot to live up to based on its reputation, and I’m happy to report that it delivers on what it sets out to do. Issues with the season are fairly minor tribbles, but that’s something I can cover in the notes.

-Hoo boy, let’s get this out of the way; the movie did fucking wonders for Lloyd Garmadon. Spending like five seasons stuck to his blander “chosen one must learn” characterisation, this season gives him a very long overdue overhaul into a more modern chosen one protagonist who is way more entertaining to watch. Bonus points for having a look I can take seriously now...yeah, sorry, but the Anakin hairpiece with the strange approach to voice commitment never did for me, even as it became the norm for what I was viewing.  -To be honest, his teammates get some good material here too. Some more than others (Zane especially has a really good little arc where he gets to show his more calculating side. Cole’s arc is okay but I don’t feel it quite nails the landing as well), but they all get chance to banter and have character moments, which is mainly what I come into shows for as opposed to straight up development constantly. Shout outs to Jay who has small moments, but important ones that do really good for his character (I could go into why Lloyd and Jay make the most sense as leads...probably after my season watching is done). I also like the callback to a character moment he had in season 3. Also this finally feels like the writers are sticking to characterisation, this season mostly keeping what Hands of Time did with them. Not so much design-wise, but I’ve made it clear many times that I prefer the new designs to old. Also, I get to throw in Pixal as a main character now since she’s clearly on the team full time. She’s good here too. -The dynamics get their own section just because I want to restate how I prefer the dynamic between Jay and Lloyd compared to Kai and Lloyd so far. Seriously, Jay seems to step up to bat for Lloyd more than Kai at this point. And yet no-one really seems to be interested in it within the fandom. -There wasn’t really much in the way of side characters this season (I am aware that next season will change that). Misako was good for what little material she had, Wu was fun and actually became a solid character in his own right once he became a toddler, Dareth is solid and really gets to show his alternative way of helping out, and the police commissioner...eh, better than season 6 but I’m still not big on him.  -I can sum up Harumi in one sentence; Skylor but done better on every count (and also evil). She’s engaging when she’s acting as the more humble Princess figure, and she’s nicely hammy when she’s unleashing her evil side. I can see why people would be into Lloyrumi with such a investing act (for the record, I’m not). This all being said, those who say that Harumi had a point are missing one important detail; as much destruction has been caused with the ninjas’ close call; what alternative is there? I don’t see anyone else stepping up to save Ninjago so it would have probably fully fallen a long time ago. And even with the Great Devourer, Lord Garmadon was channelling his good side to deliver a finishing blow, he still needed the ninja there.  -We have three other villains and two of them are enjoyable. Ultra-Violet is committed to her crazy shtick and amusing, and Killow is definitely different to how I thought he’d be, but it’s a lot more enjoyable (especially when Garry Chalk is channelling every bit of his Sonic Underground Robotnik voice he can. Kind of like how Clancee was Ian James Corlett channelling a lot of his scrub monkey third class). Mr E can go rust though.  -Unlike the other seasons which people cite as dark, this one feels like it does actually go there. It’s not completely a dark season, mostly the end of Jade Princess and scenes between Game of Masks and Big Trouble, Little Ninjago. It was still pretty fun and light-ish hearted outside of that. -Weirdly enough, most of my quibbles are on the technical side. People cite this season as having the best animation...but I don’t really see it. In terms of visuals it’s a step up, but the actual animation doesn’t feel that different to Hands of Time. They learned to use flashier graphics everywhere. Which is probably why the intro is the way it is, and I’m sorry but this is probably my least favourite intro. I can’t appreciate the spectacle when focusing on anything is difficult to achieve. On top of that, there were still some glaring graphical fuck-ups (like when Cole is shown with the other ninja in a scene where he was captured, or when Lloyd was shown with green eyes in a shot despite being drained of power at that point), which aren’t really any different to the ones Prime Empire has.  -The pacing of the season wasn’t entirely smooth, but unlike other seasons it’s not like one set issue. It’s more like a concertina effect; it was very quick at first, then slows down, then speeds up again, then slows down, then finally hits an even tempo about halfway through. This is why I didn’t mention the likes of Hutchins, the parents or the Mechanic before; because of the pace, you don’t really get enough time to really get attached to them (doesn’t help that the Mechanic has Alan Marriott doing the voice in his cameo, and man does it not fit compared to Skybound. I’m glad when the Mechanic got more substantial stuff they went back to his original VA, that voice is so fun).  -My other big thing is actually the complete continuity snarl that’s Harumi’s backstory makes. They’ve thrown in so many random events over the seasons but because of the sheer vagueness of the timescales it doesn’t really break suspension of disbelief. But Harumi’s turn to darkness is clearly during the ending of season 1, which we have a much more tangible sense of time for. Harumi seems like she’s about 8-10 then, the ninja seem like they were 14-15 then, Harumi seems like she’s 15-18 now but the showrunner still insist that the ninja are teenagers? How does that work, the most generous allowance for time is five years, and that would barely make them still teenagers in season 8. Certainly don’t believe they could be teenagers as of the most recent seasons. -On a completely different tangent, can we talk about the toilet humour? Yeah, it’s not like it’s never been there (there’s been poop jokes, fart jokes, halitosis jokes, and who can forget that one utterly cringe scene in S3?), but Hands of Time and Sons of Garmadon do it in a way that just comes off as really weird compared to earlier toilet humour. Like, there’s the implication by Jay in season 7 that Kai has issues with constipation, Cole’s truth tea dose forces him to say that he pees in the pool, and then there’s Kai, right to Harumi’s face, all but saying that Jay has issues with peeing himself. Her reaction to it is fucking hilarious, but it’s still weird, even though knowing Vincent Tong he would totally do that. 

Overall, this was a great season, and it’s clear to see how this became such a draw to the series (meaning in hindsight, LEGO’s method of dealing with the new style was pretty much a winner). The issues I have don’t stop the quality being across the board. Aside from Possession, I think this may be a favourite season from the pre-11 stuff. 

Next time, we effectively get the second part to this story. Yep, it ended in a cliffhanger so we’ve hardly wrapped it up here. Time to see how the OG ninja and newer recruits handle themselves alone in Hunted. 

[delkios]

Trade Your Ghosts for Heroes (ToRays/ToV)

What started as a silly scene with Cress's pun ended up turning into a nearly 2k post-Mirrage Prison fic. Caveats: I've only played, like, three Tales games and two of those were 15+ years ago so characterizations are primarily based of ToRays depictions. Apologies if they're inaccurate. Also my knowledge of Mirrage Prison is an incomplete hodgepodge of translations and summaries. Apologies if that, too, is inaccurate. Title a re-worded line from Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here" because ~what are titles~?

(dreamwidth) (pillowfort) (AO3) Title: Trade Your Ghosts for Heroes Fandom: Tales of the Rays, Tales of Vesperia Rating: PG Word Count: 1996 Characters: Flynn, Yuri, various minor appearances Summary: Following the end of Mirrage Prison, Flynn is finally properly introduced to the other Nexuses. Though everyone kept a clear path to the makeshift medbay, there were plenty of onlookers as Yuri, leading the return group, carried Ix. Which was as good a time as any for Yuri to name each Nexus they passed to Flynn. Proper introductions could be made later but the roster was pretty big, so he may as well get a head start. Raine and Ruca met them just outside the medbay, the young man and Mileena taking Ix from Yuri and bringing him inside with Kocis following close behind. Raine gave the remaining two men a slight smile. "Why don't we go to the conference room," she said with a mild warmth that barely disguised a cool caution- which Yuri would bet she wasn't really trying to disguise. If Flynn wasn't already used to having his every move scrutinized and questioned, Yuri might have been offended on his behalf. "I'm sure everyone would like to officially meet you." The conference room wasn't quite filled with people, many still making their way back to the fortress, but there were still a good number in there. "Yo," Yuri called out to the group, clapping a hand on Flynn's shoulder and pushing him forward slightly. "This is Flynn."

Flynn gave Yuri a sideways, disapproving look when it was clear that was the extent of his introduction. His attention was drawn, however, by a sharp bark. Repede charged at the duo, jumping up so his front paws hit Flynn's shoulders hard enough to rock him back a step and covering the man's chin and cheeks with long licks. "Repede!" He laughed, giving the dog a good scrubbing at the thick fur of his neck. "I'm glad to see you, too!" "I've never seen Repede so happy before," Sophie said, looking envious. With a playful nip at Flynn's fingers, Repede dropped down, moving to sit between Flynn and Yuri's feet as Estelle took his place, embracing Flynn with a great big hug. "Flynn! We were so worried about you!" "I'm sorry for making you worry, Lady Estellise," he gave her a hug and, when she moved aside, held a hand up for Karol to slap with a wide grin. While Judith, Rita and Raven didn't greet him with anything more than warm words and welcoming smiles, they gathered around the latest member of their group like they were worried someone might try to take him away again. Standing toward the back, Velvet gave him a cool once over before declaring more than asking, "So you're the guy Yuri lost his head over?" Flynn laughed, both self-conscious and self-depreciating. "I didn't really apologize for putting you in that position, did I?" He gave his best friend a guilty smile. "Sorry about that." Yuri just scoffed. "What I said about that gloomy expression is still in effect." This laugh was more genuine, "Of course." Expression cautious and arms crossed, Cress asked, "We've heard Baldr's side but I think it's worth us knowing: what exactly possessed you to do such a thing?" Chester's arm shot out like a reflex to punch his best friend in the arm. Unfortunately he only hit pauldron and he half curled over his aching knuckles with a quiet 'ow'. "Well, it wasn't exactly-" Flynn paused for a moment then grinned, "Oh! Very clever!" Estelle giggled, "Cress is very good with word play." Cress gave Chester a smug look and Chester just groaned. "Why does everyone keep encouraging him?" "Yeah, sorry, should've mentioned," Yuri said with dry resignation, "Flynn's got terrible taste in everything." "Including friends, unfortunately," Flynn said, equally dry. "Maybe I won't care so much next time you get bodyjacked." "Or maybe you could react in a less haphazard way." Yuri made a show of scowling. "I get lectured even when it's not my plan." Flynn just gazed back at him coolly. "I'm talking about your particular actions. As always." "Next time I'll submit my snap decisions for you to review before saving your ass." Heads bobbed around the bridge, various Nexuses muttering to themselves or each other, "Definitely childhood friends." "As much as I hate to break up the heartwarming bickering," Raine said in a way that clearly stated this was not the case, "Cress's question is still a valid one." "Yes, ma'am, I apologize," Flynn said and Raine muttered an amused, "Such manners!" into her sleeve. He cleared his throat and said to the room at large, automatically falling into professional knight mode, "Before the procedure that placed Baldr in my body, I was only aware of very few things: I was not in the world I knew and the Asgard Empire was determined to use me in some way. When Baldr and I first... well, spoke, I suppose you could say, he told me that he wasn't able to possess my body without my consent. I could sense he was troubled by the entire process and didn't seem very keen to do it but, he knew as I did, that Mercuria and Naza would find another body if he was unable to use mine. We came to an agreement: I would allow Baldr to use my body but I would retain my consciousness. This allowed open dialogue between us and he even allowed me control of my body on occasion. Despite his misgivings over the Empire's actions, Baldr was loyal and it took some time before I was able to convince him that they needed to be stopped." Flynn cast a sideways look at Yuri. "I suppose I'm lucky for the experience of dealing with someone far more stubborn than he." Yuri just snorted, "You're worse than I am." "Asides from Naza, I was the first to be possessed. Apparently there is something about my ...anima, I believe? That's unique but I'm uncertain as to the details of what that means or even why it is. As far as I'm aware, I've never been any different than Yuri." At his side, Yuri nodded. Had it been Estelle or Raven it would have been obvious, even with Judith or Rita guesses could have easily been made. But the two of them and Karol were just regular guys. Rita stepped in front of him, arms crossed, looking him over as if she could find the answer if she glared at him hard enough. "You should come down to the lab so we can run some tests. I don't know why you would be unique, but that might mean some of the other 'normal' Nexuses we've gathered might also have unique properties. If that's the case, it's definitely something we should know about." "If the bodysnatching process was so easy for you and Baldr," Chester asked, looking like he wasn't sure if he should be upset or not, "why did the Empire have so much trouble with others?" "I think," Flynn said slowly, thinking through his answer, "that has to do with Baldr needing my consent. For that, I had to be... me, still. Awake, aware- but for the others, it's like their minds and personalities were completely rewritten. The Empire had to rework the procedure and," his expression grew dark with guilt, "a number of people were left comatose before they succeeded. I don't know how many or where they were put after, Baldr kept me away from... the failures when he realized how upset I was." Estelle put her hands around one of his, giving it a squeeze. "It's alright, Flynn. We figured out how to bring them back." He let out a shaky breath and grin. "Thank you, Lady Estellise. It's relieving to know. There was only so much I was able to do, even when Baldr decided to help me. I hated being unable to do anything for them." "Yeah, yeah, we know what a bleeding heart you are," Yuri drawled. "Unfortunately, now Psycho Princess is intent on taking Flynn's head in addition to Mileena's, so you should probably lay low for a bit." Raven hummed unhappily. "Kiddo didn't take betrayal too well, huh?" "Guess she's less forgiving than some people," Rita said flatly. Raven's only response was a rueful twist of his lips. A couple others in the room shifted uncomfortably. "If I may take a moment to recap here," Jade said with a feigned thoughtfulness, "in answer to Cress's question, Flynn allowed Baldr to possess his body because he knew the Empire was adamant about using him, if it wasn't his body then Baldr would be placed in someone else, and, because Baldr didn't seem entirely happy about the Living Doll Project as a whole, you thought you might be able to convince him to defect. Is that more or less correct?" "Yes," Flynn said. There was a brief silence, then Raine asked incredulously, "That was your entire thought process?" "Well," Lloyd said in cautious defense, "it worked?" "It is quite the Flynn thing to do," Judith said with amusement. Raven nodded. "Wouldn't expect less from the man that helped get the Union and Empire working together." "I'm sorry everyone," Flynn said softly. "I thought I'd be more useful than I ended up being. I should've done more to help." "Oh," Jade said with flat distaste, "he's one of those genuinely humble types." He them promptly walked out. Yuri snickered at the exit- he certainly hoped watching Jade and Flynn interact would be as amusing as he imagined. But... ignoring the people quick to reassure Flynn he'd been helpful- and keeping the Empire from realizing Baldr had left was very much so -Yuri prodded his friend in the chest hard with the sheathed end of his sword. "I warned you. I'm wiping that look off your face right now." "Wait," Reala looked between Yuri and Flynn. "You're going to fight him? But you just got your friend back." "It's that bastard Baldr's fault," Yuri said decisively, arms crossed over his chest. "I don't care about his reasons or that Flynn agreed to it, I'm pissed that he took over someone's body. But since he went and disintegrated before I could beat his ass, I'll just beat Flynn's for being stupid enough to agree in the first place." Confused and hesitant glances shifted around the room, made all the more so by the fact neither Flynn nor any of their friends seemed at all bothered by this declaration. Reala inched a little closer to Flynn. "Are you alright with this?" He just looked as if that was a strange thing for someone to ask him. "Certainly." "They fight a lot," Karol said like it was perfectly normal. "I haven't let loose in a while," Flynn added with a deceptively angelic smile, "it'll be a nice challenge." "You making preemptive excuses for when you lose?" Yuri asked with a sharp grin. Though Flynn's smile hadn't changed, there was something decidedly less angelic about it. "You know what they say: once is an accident." "You saying my win was a fluke?" "I suppose we'll see." "Wait," Kyle popped in between them with wide eyes, "does that mean Yuri's only beaten you once?" "Oh, well," Flynn chuckled and turned away from Kyle's awed expression, ever the humble knight, "I... suppose I may have won more often than not when we were kids." "All of 'em," Yuri said bluntly. "He won all except for the last." "It really isn't as impressive as it- er?" Suddenly Cress and Luke were on either side of Flynn, grabbing an arm each. "Sorry, Yuri. You'll have to postpone your match a bit," Cress said brightly. "Yeah," Luke added, "I have got to see what this guy can do!" Then, using Flynn as a pivot point, the two turned around and started pulling Flynn out of the room. "O-oh, um... okay?" Flynn called out even as he was dragged away. "It was nice meeting everyone!" Yuri just sighed while Estelle and Karol giggled. "Always the charmer," he drawled with- and he'd deny it if confronted -a spark of fondness in his eyes.

[thetygre]

Dark Souls Lore Rambling #7

I was actually ready to do this one all the way back at #2, so this is pretty exciting for me. I just hope I can organize it all cohesively. I seriously plan on doing some mini-lore ramblings to go with this one, because I’ve got a lot to say about:

The Lords

“There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.”

- The Book of Genesis, Chapter 6; verse 4

Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung Has come and gone, and the majestic roll Of circling centuries begins anew: Astraea returns, Returns old Saturn's reign, With a new breed of men sent down from heaven. 

- Virgil, Ecologues

Because if starting off with a Bible verse and pagan Rome were good enough for Tinto Brass’s Caligula, they’re good enough for me. There’s really nothing like the Lords in Demon’s Souls; there was an age where things were objectively shitty, but that seems to be a running them of Soulsborne, if not dark fantasy as a genre. There’s a kind of similarity to the Shadowmen, but more in stature than anything else. The Pthumerians in Bloodborne have a lot in common with the Lords, but are obviously much more human and tragic.

No folks, to understand the Lords, we have to go back. Way back. I know it’s kind of faux pas to see real-world mythology in every video game theory these days, but I feel like it can’t be helped. To understand the Lords (and why they’re so damn dig incidentally), you have to know about the Titans and the Greek Golden Age.

So I’m trusting that you all know your Greek mythology 101, right? The Titans were the gods before the Olympians (but after the Primordials). Deities of more abstract concepts like memory and and invisible air. Mostly literary figures, no actual base of worship. Anyway, the Titans were different from the gods in that they were bigger, stronger, mightier. But the gods were more numerous, and craftier, so they overthrow the Titans in a little thing called The Titanomachy. It actually ties in rather nicely with Dark Souls cyclical universe; Kronos overthrew his father, Ouranos, then Kronos gets overthrown by Zeus, and then Zeus devotes a considerable portion of his mythology living in fear of being overthrown by his children. (Keep that last bit in mind while we go on.)

It’s actually a pretty common myth across Indo-European mythologies when you look around. Before the current order of the universe, there were primordial beings, and the gods overthrew those beings to make the world as we know it. Odin and his siblings had to kill Ymir to make the world, and then later warred with the Vanir. Marduk and the other Babylonian gods killed Apsu and Tiamat. Shiva created his aspect of Virabhadra and defeats Indra, who himself had to kill the serpent-dragon Vritra to bring water to the world. There are even echoes of the narrative in Lucifer’s attempted rebellion against God. Also another recurring pertinent theme there; dragons. The primordial beings were often dragons or serpents.

The thing of it is, this cycle of rebellion takes a toll on the world. After an initial period of chaos and darkness, sometimes there’s a patch where things are pretty sweet. Think the Garden of Eden; just humans crawling around, everybody’s naked and happy, the sun always shines, animals just lie down to get eaten, fruits fall right off the tree. Everything was Better then. And let’s be clear, when I say things were Better, I mean Better; even the humans were bigger and nigh-immortal and beautiful, because things were just that good back then. That’s the concept of the Greek Golden Age. The world started out great when the Titans were in charge, but the rebellion made things worse, and every age after that has gotten worse since then, spiraling on a course of entropy towards the end of the world. That part should sound pretty familiar.

That’s the Lords. The men of the Golden Age. The Titans. Bigger, prettier, stronger, longer-lasting, and all around better than you. Their cities filled with magic and technological wonders humans can’t even begin to reach. And the jerks responsible for setting everything in motion.

But where did the Lords even come from? The myth in the opening cinematic states, “And then, from the Dark, They came.” That’s ‘They’ with a capital ‘T’; They are important, and there’s only one important They in the Dark Souls origin mythology. The Lords, like all life (or unlife in Nito’s case) came from the Dark; but what does that mean? Did the Dark literally produce them out of itself, or were they living as a race underneath the Everlasting Dragons and Arch-Trees for years?

I think it’s important to remember that the Lords came from the Dark in the origin myth. Such a big deal is made of the gulf between Lords and humans as representatives of the Flame and the Dark, but they both came from the same place. It drives home that the only real difference between Lords and humans is circumstance. Humans really are just mutant, pygmy Lords descended from a single freak ancestor. Which makes you have to wonder; why are the Lords so superior to humans if they both came from the Dark? The most obvious answer is that the Lords derive some inherent advantage from their connection to the First Flame.

That also raises another question for me; how much of the Lords’ greatness stems from their own inherent nature, and how much comes from the Light Soul or The First Flame? If the Lords had never discovered the First Flame, would they still be at the same level that humans are at in Dark Souls, so to speak? Would they have giant cities and know all that advanced magic, or would they just be regular human beings? In Norse mythology, the gods of the Aesir aren’t entirely immortal; they can still die from violence, and they are even only immortal because they eat the golden apples of Idun. I’m not saying the Lords and the Aesir correspond one-to-one with each other, but Dark Souls does definitely draw from Norse mythology more than others. It might not be too far-fetched to theorize that the Lords are only special because of the First Flame. It’s their golden apple, so to speak.

Of course, we also have to consider the possibility that the origin myth is utterly fictitious. In that case, the Lords are probably a foreign population to Lordran. How they got there and where they came from is entirely up for grabs. Really, it still doesn’t change that much from the origin myth. The Lords arrived and fought against the Everlasting Dragons for supremacy of the world, or at least Lordran. They then found and harnessed the power of the force known as the First Flame, and with the help of Seathe defeated the Everlasting Dragons. Eventually, humans showed up, and even they don’t know where they came from.

Which I guess is the lead-in to the Way of White. I want to give the Way of White a more close-up look with the rest of the factions later on, but they’re still important to the Lords. Humans showed up, and they allied with the Lords against the dragons, and later on against the demons. When exactly humans and Lords encountered each other is unclear; for all we know, humans were there with the Lords from the start, but I always imagined it as the humans becoming a significant enough power to be an asset to the Lords somewhere around the tail-end of the war with the Everlasting Dragons.

We know Havel fought along side Gwyn against both demons and dragons, and Havel was made a bishop in the Way of White. What I think is that the Way of White didn’t start out as a religious organization, or at least not in the model it’s encountered when we play Dark Souls. The humans were right there with the Lords, tangibly in their presence. The Way of White was originally the organization of humans sworn in service to the Lords; whether that was in terms of knighthood, priesthood, or both is unclear. Allfather Lloyd was presumably involved at some point in this process, but it’s hard to say what exactly he did or how much. As the Lords grew more distant from humans over the course of time, the nature of the Way of White changed into a more separated form of religion. The Lords, no longer present, became numinous, and were worshiped as proper deities, leaving us with the current Way of White.

Except maybe not so much? It’s clearly evident by the furniture and rooms in Anor Londo that there was some human presence cohabiting with the Lords. It’s the beds that sell it for me; the steps are excuseable as Lord foot-size isn’t that far from humans, the door-frames would usually be a foot taller but aren’t unreasonable, and the chairs would be a tight fit but are manageable. But the beds are bunk beds for the Lords standing next to them; even a Lord comparatively as short as the Silver Knights would have their feet hanging out on those beds. Oh, and y’know, the obvious human presence with the Painting Guardians, but who cares about them?

What I always took this as was that the Lords kept human servants with them in Anor Londo. After all, what’s the point of being a god if you still have to scrub the floors? So living in Anor Londo was a population of humans who served directly under the Lords for whatever the Lords might need; soldiers, servants, and just general sources of adoration. Humans who worked for the Lords up close and personal, divested of the deific imagery (unless they were really committed to it).

It’s like... Remember Mad Max: Fury Road? You had Immortan Joe, and then you had the War Boys who worshiped him like a god, and at the bottom were the humans living on the ground who barely saw him and also treated him like a god because of all his power. And in between was the middle class of people, like the Brides and the Milk Maids and the Organic Mechanic; people who lived with Immortan on the day-to-day basis and saw that he was really just another man. That’s what I’m imagining this class of humans in Anor Londo were like, except a little bit different because the Lords really are near-immortal and super-powerful.

I’m guessing these people were basically slaves; conscripted to servitude for life. The kind of job that doesn’t exactly come with a severance package, if you feel me. Work for the Lords or get sent to Seath as a guinea pig, or black-bagged by Gwyndolin for heresy, or maybe just get eaten by the gargoyles (or Smough). Still, the cage is a gilded one at least; Anor Londo servants live like most other countries’ royalty, with fresh fruit, fine wine, access to higher culture, and spacious living. A significant step-up for most people in a medieval society. The population was maintained by allowing humans to actually live and reproduce in the city, passing work down the family line like a traditional medieval society. The Lords would want to make sure their human pets had an active breeding population to compensate for their comparatively short life-spans.

Whenever they needed (or simply wanted) more humans, the Lords could just snatch them up from the cities surrounding Anor Londo; Oolacile, New Londo, and the town that would eventually become the Undead Burg. You can almost imagine it; some random baker or wash-woman standing in the street, just doing their work. Suddenly, the clouds part, a beam of sunlight surrounds them, and a pair of winged figures carry the human up into the sky. The Way of White takes it as a sign; this person lived a humble, virtuous life, and was chosen to ascend and live among the gods. In truth, Gwynevere or whoever just needed someone to do the laundry. But the Way of White spreads the story, about how the gods raise those who live in the city up, and affirm that Lordran is indeed the land of the gods.

Eventually, the abductions stop, simply because there are no more Lords to want humans, and the human population in Anor Londo disappears (except for the Painting Guardians, somehow). Where did these humans disappear to? The Lords certainly didn’t let them free, or else more people would know Anor Londo is a ghost-town. Optimistic answer says the Lords took the humans with them when they left for wherever. Pessimistic answer says they slowly died off, and/or Smough went hog-wild.

And that raises an interesting question that I’m really surprised I haven’t seen more people talk about. Because in wont of the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds, I have to ask; where have all the good men gone, and where are all the gods? What happened to the Lords? Where did they go? We know they left Anor Londo (well, most of them anyway); the Ring of the Sun Princess tells us so. But when, and why? The when is fairly obvious; some time after Gwyn went to link the First Flame by immolating himself. As the patriarch of Anor Londo and Lord society, Gwyn’s absence would cause Lord society to begin to radically alter, perhaps even disintegrating. Maybe the Lords were killed, but that just raises more questions; what force could possibly wipe out the Lords, and to what purpose? Darkstalker Kaathe? Velka? A vengeful Gwyndolin? All of them equally outlandish.

Assuming the Lords were still alive for their exodus, why did they leave? The best theory I can come up with is that the Lords feared Gwyn failed; he disappeared to the Kiln of the First Flame and never came back. Between the rising force of humans, the spreading plague of demons, and the encroaching Undead curse, the Lords decided to make tracks and leave Anor Londo behind for greener pastures. But that still leaves where? Maybe another world altogether? Maybe the Lords crossed the dimensional barriers somehow; broke through the Dark, followed the roots of the Arch-Trees, whatever. They found a new world and populated it, starting all over again. Maybe that’s where the Lords came from to begin with. Or maybe it really was as simple as going to another country; a lot less high-soaring, but more practical and a little more human. The Lords reduced to refugees, cast to the wind like everyday people. We’ll never really know, and there’s already too many maybes for this section.

Not all the Lords are gone from Anor Londo, or at least something in their likenesses. The Silver Knights are still around, keeping watch over the city. From what we can see in the opening cinematic, the Silver Knights were the rank and file warriors of the Lords. The remaining Silver Knights are the Lord warriors who didn’t follow Gwyn to the demon wars and the Kiln of the First Flame. They’re not as tough as the Black Knights, and I think that goes in with the relative lack of combat experience.

The biggest debate about the Silver Knights in Anor Londo is whether or not they’re actually real. If you choose to attack Gwynevere, the Silver Knights and the giant guards msotly disappear with the rest of Gwyndolin’s illusions. Further, the Knights don’t appear to actually bleed or leave a body; they just dissolve into white mist while they disappear. This has led to the theory that the Knights, along with almost everything else in Anor Londo, are also illusions. The most common refutation to this theory is that the player is able to gain Souls and equipment from the Silver Knights, up to a complete set of armor and weapons.

But let’s consider; if the Knights are conjured up by Gwyndolin, that means they’re probably based in sorcery. Sorcery, as I’ve talked about before, comes from pure Soul energy. Ergo, it makes sense that once you kill Gwyndolin’s magically conjured knights, you inherit the Soul energy that was invested into their creation via whatever weird, unexplained process it is that the Undead absorb Souls. You can even explain the equipment with the Giant Blacksmith. Think about it; the Giant Blacksmith is one of the only real entities left behind in Anor Londo. He’s constantly working (somehow without fire...); most likely for the Chosen Undead’s benefit, but what if Gwyndolin had him working on side-projects, like equipping an entire regiment of phantom Knights?

However, there’s always the opposite theory; that these are real Lords, still hanging around after Gwyn and Gwynevere and whoever else left. Why would they be left behind? They might be a special contingency guard left behind to guard the city after the other Lords left, in case they ever returned, or to protect any secrets the city might have. Maybe they’re not even special, just general populace guards standing around, and there are even more Lords deeper into the city. When I first saw the Silver Knights, I assumed that the descriptions I had been given about the ‘gods’ leaving Anor Londo referred only to a particular subset of Lords, namely the royal family. Later, I thought these were just Lord guards who had been kept to guard the Anor Londo Cathedral and Gwynevere, the original members of the Princess’s Guard so to speak. When Gwynevere is revealed as an illusion, her guards leave Anor Londo heartbroken. The guards being living Lords doesn’t seem particularly likely to me now, but there’s nothing to 100% disprove it either.

The Black Knights are real, though. Real and badass. Like, we need to sit down and take a minute to admit that none of us are worthy of how cool the Black Knights are. Which is saying a lot considering they’re all dead. The Black Knights are all ghosts or wraithes or some other kind of undead (but still not Undead proper). There’s a part of me that wanted to make a Warcraft joke where I said that maybe they’re Death Knights or Demon Hunters, but that’s actually pretty accurate. They got to be ‘Black’ Knights by fighting against the demons when the Bed of Chaos first popped up.

Gwen linking the First Flame did ‘em in super hard. It’s hard to say how much of them is actually still left in their armor. They just kind of wander the world now, finding places to hole up and guard. There’s not a lot of lore theories to work with on the Black Knights; their story is pretty straightforward. I used to think they were Gwyn’s agents, and that he directed them to go out hunting for the Chosen Undead, but now I don’t think the Black Knights could be commanded even if Gwyn was in any kind of state fit to.

There are still a couple of details I find interesting, though. First off, the Black Knights’ armor is distinctly different from the Silver Knights, namely the collar and the helmet. Now you could make the case that this is from standard Silver Knight armor being deformed in the heat of Izalith or the First Flame, but I think it was different even before the Black Knights fought the demons. My theory is that the Black Knights started out as Gwyn’s personal retinue of knights, handpicked as the best of the best. They might even have been dragon slayers like Ornstein; the horns on their helmets certainly look like dragon wings.

Second, at the entrance to the Kiln of the First Flame, we see legions of spectral Black Knights marching through. It’s hard to say just what exactly we’re looking at here. A part of me wants to compare it to the fight against The End in Metal Gear Solid 3, with the Chosen Undead seeing the spirits of all the Black Knights they’ve killed. Or maybe it’s that from the other side; this is where the souls of the Black Knights went when they were blown out by Gwyn linking the First Flame. I kind of personally always thought of this area as a space between worlds; the Kiln of the First Flame is terra prima for the whole Dark Souls cosmology, so it might not even be in Lordran proper. It has to be teleported to, or accessed through a portal. The space between Lordran and the Kiln is the same space between player worlds, or at least a way through it. It might not even be connected to an individual time-frame; if the Black Knights were forced into a space like that, between time and dimensions, it would certainly explain how they keep showing up through all the games set thousands of years later on, and it definitely speaks to the power of the First Flame.

But enough about the small fry; it’s time to talk about the big fish. We’ll start out easy with The Magnificent Chest herself; Gwynevere. What we know about Gwynevere is that she is Gwyn’s (ostensibly) only daughter and referred to as The Princess of Sunlight; she was also one of the Lords to leave Anor Londo at some point, presumably around the time Gwyn linked the First Flame. In Design Works, Miyazaki talked about how he wanted Gwynevere to come off as a maternal figure, somebody the player would inherently trust and rely on. She was also supposed to talk through a mouth in the palm of her hand like Vamprire Hunter D, which would have been radical, but sadly got cut. Miyazaki also states that she wasn’t supposed to be so... err, buxom, I believe is the polite word, but the designer was so pleased with his own work that Miyazaki didn’t have the heart to tell him to redo it. I’m inclined to take Miyazaki’s word for it as women in Soulsborne usually come in either ‘svelte’ or ‘ogre’ body types, which makes Gwynevere even more of an aberration. And thus Gwynevere went from ‘maternal’ to ‘waifu bait’.

Which, if I’m being honest, I think actually works a little better within the narrative of the story. Gwynevere, as met in the game, is just an illusion conjured by Gwyndolin to commission the Chosen Undead into linking the First Flame. She spins a narrative so compelling that it comes off as too-good-to-be-true. You, the Chosen Undead, have truly proven yourself worthy, and must now defeat The Bad Guys to become the King of the Gods Forever and hey, maybe even mack on a giant hot babe. It actually tells us more about Gwyndolin than Gwynevere lore-wise; this is what Gwyndolin thinks humans want to hear, his impression of our fantasies. And I kind of took it as a more meta statement about video games, gamers, and fantasy tropes. Slay the monsters, rescue the princess, become the king; classic power fantasy. Tale as old as time. Gwynevere is even an actual, literal princess to boot. It’s so incredibly obvious that the only way you can’t notice it is by ignoring literally every other scrap of worldbuilding and lore around you, including the ring Gwynevere herself gives you.

There’s actually a bit more lore to Gwynevere than the surface stuff. First and foremost, it should go without saying that Gwynevere probably wasn’t that gigantic. (I mean, it’s not impossible, but it’s definitely improbable.) Even Gwyn wasn’t that big, and he was king. That was probably a detail Gwydolin added on to make Gwynevere seem that much more overwhelming and important. Like the Greek Golden Age has shown, humans expect their gods to be bigger and better than them. And the bigger the god, the more important they are, so a giant would come off as absolute.

It’s also worth breaking down Gwynevere’s name. Gwynevere is actually one of the easier names in Dark Souls to discern the meaning of. Everybody of course knows it from Guinevere, who was King Arthur’s wife and the lover of Sir Lancelot in Arthurian legend. So Gwynevere is named after a beautiful, romantic, and tragic character who is practically synonymous with the idea of the fantasy queen/princess. It’s doubtful that Gwynevere was responsible for the fall of Anor Londo like Guinevere was for Camelot, but I digress. Examined closer, Gwynevere breaks down to ‘Gwyn-evere’. Gwyn is representative of both Gwyn, Gwynevere’s father, but is also derived from the Welsh ‘gwyn’, which means ‘fair’ or ‘white’. The ‘-evere’ part also derives from the Welsh ‘hwyfar’, which means ‘smooth’ or, alternatively, the old Welsh ‘sebara’, which roughly translates to ‘spirit’ or ‘magical being’. Either translation works, essentially amounting to ‘fair and smooth’ or ‘fair spirit’.

I also briefly want to talk about the theory that Gwynevere is the mother of Crossbreed Priscilla; I don’t buy it. Not only do I not buy it, I am actively confused by it. Where did people come up with this idea from? What evidence indicates it? Yeah, Seathe captured some of Gwynevere’s priestesses, I get that, but I think it’s pretty clear that Seathe will capture anything as fodder for his experiments. That’s circumstantial at best. You could just as easily make the case that Priscilla’s mother is Velka because she’s locked up in the Painted World of Ariamis with all the other Velka stuff. For all we know, Priscilla doesn’t even have a mother; she could have been grown homunculus style out of a test tube. Again, I’m not saying it’s impossible, I just think it’s improbable.

Gwynevere being named after a queen/princess also carries over to her epithet; the Princess of Sunlight. This is the role she is probably afforded in the Way of White and how she is worshiped. (Yeah, I’m a religious studies nerd. This is what I do.) Let’s consider Gwyn for a moment; Gwyn is depicted as the lord of sunlight and lightning. When you look at some of the shrines in Anor Londo, you see three spaces devoted to three gods; Gwyn at the center, Gwynevere to one side, and an empty space for what I’m going to pretend not to know belongs to The Nameless King. The point is, it’s obviously a trinity of the three most important gods.

Now, I would like to propose that in the Way of White, Gwyn’s children were (supposed to be) afforded different aspects of their father. The Nameless King would, if he was worshiped instead of exiled, play into the male archetype of the warrior-prince, and be given reign over lightning, thunder, and warfare. He would be kind of the masculine, aggressive aspect of Gwyn. Gwynevere, then, would be The Nameless King’s counterpart, representing a feminine, benevolent aspect of Gwyn.

When you look at Gwynevere’s miracles, they’re healing spells, and meant to be used on multiple people. Gwynevere, as a deity, probably would have represented all the good things that come from the sun; light, life, health, prosperity, and enlightenment. If she was comparable to any real-world deity, I would say she lines up closely to a female version of Apollo. Another comparison might be to Hestia/Vesta, the goddess of hearth and home. Like Hestia, Gwynevere’s priesthood seems to rely inordinately on women; it’s unclear if Gwynevere’s priesthood is exclusively female, but I do think that there are some direct comparisons to be made to the Roman Vestal Virgins.

The Princess’ Guard is also probably worth a mention. Like most of the other factions, it’s hard to tell whether or not you see any actual members of the faction in game. As I said before, I always theorized that the Silver Knights and giant guards were members of the Princess’ Guard, maybe even with Smough and Ornstein at the top of the hierarchy as Gwynevere’s final defenders. The romanticized ideal of knighthood has a knight swear their fealty and love to a Lady; ergo, the Silver Knights, to fully embody the ideal of knighthood, would probably swear themselves to the only Lady around, the Princess Gwynevere. Of course it’s possible that the Princess’ Guard was just the name for the guards of Anor Londo without the whole chivalric oath thing. The illusion of Gwynevere appears to be the linchpin of the city’s illusion; defending that is tantamount to defending the city and everyone living there, even if unwittingly. Of course it’s all probably a moot point, what with the Silver Knights probably being an illusion.

But knights don’t just swear themselves to a Lady; that’s so much romantic chivalry added after the fact. Knights, first and foremost, are knights because they swear themselves to a Lord, and when your entire race is called ‘Lords’, that means swearing yourself to the biggest and baddest Lord of them all. Which brings us to the man himself; I’m talking about the Grand Poobah, the Big Kahunah, Papa Smurf. It’s time to talk about Lord Gwyn.

The entirety of Dark Souls revolves around Gwyn and the consequences of his actions. So you can understand how it’s kind of hard to talk about him; not only could you feasibly tie every other single piece of lore back to Gwyn, but so much of his story has been covered before. I’d go so far as to say Gwyn’s lore is some of the easiest to find in the game. But that doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be examined again from a new perspective.

We’re introduced to Gwyn as the apparent king of the gods and hottest shit since sliced bread. Gwyn is at the center of the Way of White and worshiped as the lord of creation, along with all the other gods in Anor Londo. At some point, we receive the information that Gwyn has flipped off to somewhere to save the world by linking the First Flame, and left Lordran in chaos. Frampt says it’s up to the Chosen Undead to take Gwyn’s place and save the world; he is technically not wrong. Kaathe says that Gwyn has been keeping the humans under his boot and lives in fear of the coming of the Dark; he is also technically not wrong. They both also manage to work in some lies about a messiah narrative, which brings the lie-truth ratio to 2-1.

Gwyn falls very neatly into the deific category of The Sky Father; the patriarchal head of the divine family whose purview is all of reality, but with a definite focus on the sky, sun, lightning, and storms. Notable examples include Zeus, Odin, Marduk, Indra, Perun, and, everybody’s favorite, YHWH. I actually kind of love how deliberately Gwyn is made for this role. It’s so transparent that he’s built around this specific mythical archetype, but he still has enough characteristics to be unique. I want an entire pantheon built up like this. Anyway, I’m gushing; back to Gwyn.

Like all good Sky Fathers, Gwyn started out by fighting the primordial monsters and founding reality as we know it. Gwyn in particular appears to be a composite of Odin and Zeus, with maybe a little more from Odin given that while Gwyn has some very definite human flaws, they aren’t really in the same line as Zeus’ (re: he does not stick his dick into every moving thing). I’d also say that there’s a bit of King Arthur in Gwyn’s character, especially Arthur a la T.H. White, but it’s hard to say for certain; outside of ‘Gwynevere=Guinevere’, the Souls series isn’t really big on Arthurian legend. But Gwyn does have some of the same characteristics of Zeus and Odin, even outside his dominion over lightning. He definitely had some of their strengths; their regality, their wisdom, their leadership, and even perhaps some of their slyness. But with that also comes the overlapping flaws of Zeus and Odin; deceit, tyranny, callousness, vengefulness. Regardless of anything else, he still forced Gwyndolin into the role of a woman, and then hid him away like the deformed family cat.

But I think the most important flaw that Gwyn inherited from his mythological predecessors, the one that defines him more than anything, is fear. Gwyn, like Zeus and Odin, is driven by an overriding fear. Odin lived in fear of Ragnarok, the Twilight of the Gods, when the universe would be destroyed. Gwyn lives in fear of the coming of the Dark, the unknown age where the world of the Age of Fire will diminish. Zeus lived in fear of his children repeating the cycle of violence that was inherent to his family; Zeus overthrew Cronos, Cronos overthrew Ouranos, and Ouranos had overthrown Gaia. So Zeus, naturally, lived in fear of whatever new god or demigod might overthrew him. Paralleling that is Gwyn living in fear of the humans overthrowing the Lords, casting him down just as he cast down the Everlasting Dragons. These fears, of apocalypse and rebellion, are what drove Gwyn to desperation, and eventually, to his own demise.

What exactly Gwyn was afraid inevitably informs us of how sympathetic a character he is. (Well, at least it does for me.) What did Gwyn think the coming of the Dark would entail that drove him to sacrifice himself, his friends, his family, and his kingdom? If he thought it was just the rise of humanity, the Lords being supplanted as the dominant species in Lordran, and he worked to make sure that the human slave race stayed was kept down, then it’s hard to view Gwyn as anything but an antagonist. We learn from the dialogue given by the Four Knights and Gwndolin that Lord opinion of humans is, at best, a kind of benevolent contempt.

But what if Gwyn thought an Age of Dark would be a literal apocalypse, like Gwynevere/Gwyndolin described? If Gwyn viewed the work of the Age of Fire as being civilization and existence itself, then the opposite of that would be nothing short of total destruction similar to the Norse Ragnarok; the world falling into literal darkness, life returning to animalistic savagery before fading away all together, and eventually reality itself being consumed by the void. That perspective makes Gwyn much more sympathetic; who wouldn’t give everything to save the world? The truth, of course, is probably somewhere in between.

At some point, Gwyn began dolling out shards of his own Lord Soul among his more trusted followers. First and foremost, this confirms that, like the Dark Soul and the Chaos (Life) Soul, the Light Soul can be divided and spread. Second, the Soul of Ornstein does indeed clarify that Gwyn originally did this as a reward for certain individuals. This represents more than a reward of mere power, but an actual bestowal of divine authority. By inheriting just a little bit of Gwyn’s power, the shard-holders have essentially received a share in being the Lords of Lordran. If you want to get all chivalric about it, it represents the knights being giving divine authority by their king, himself a conduit of the divine. It’s even more literal given that Gwyn is an actual Lord.

The Four Knights are obvious choices, but there was also Seathe and the Four Kings. The Four Kings are the ones that still interest me, because as far as we know the Four Kings were human. Gwyn might have feared the humans, even hated them, and yet he still trusted four enough that he literally divested him with his own divine power. It might be that Gwyn gave the Four Kings the shards of his Lord Soul because he originally trusted humans, and even considered them his allies. But then the power of the Dark began to show itself; it corrupted the Four Kings, destroyed the Four Knights, and empowered the Occult Rebellion. Gwyn’s opinion of humans changed, souring into that fear and hatred. The threat of the Dark became more apparent than ever, and Gwyn knew he had to do something to stop it.

I like to imagine that it started with the Witch of Izalith, that Gwyn commissioned her to try and help him find some way to keep the Age of Fire going. That backfired, or at least that’s the version we got in the game as it shipped, but the different versions of Izalith and the demons is a whole other barrel of fish. One way or another, Gwyn understood that he would have to solve the fading of the First Flame by himself. You have to wonder how he deduced how to link the First Flame; did he learn it from the Witch’s failure? Or did he figure it out from the Rite of Kindling, watching bits of Humanity act as fuel? Either way, Gwyn knew that the best thing to keep the First Flame going would be its most important and powerful component. And so Gwyn made the decision to offer up that component, his own Lord Soul, to keep the Age of Fire going.

It’s still not entirely clear what it is we find in the Kiln of the First Flame when we find Gwyn. How much of Gwyn is left in The Lord of Cinders? Does he still think, or is it just a mindless husk acting on instinct? That would certainly explain why he’s so aggressive, but he displays an inordinate amount of strategy and skill for what amounts to a zombie. Perhaps, if Gwyn is still sentient as The Lord of Cinder, he attacks the Chosen Undead because he wants to test them, to see if they are truly worthy to link the Flame. Or maybe he’s still sentient but insane, mad from pain and sorrow.

And how long did it take for The First Flame to consume Gwyn’s Lord Soul? That might seem like a minor issue, but I feel it makes a difference from a character perspective. If the First Flame just swallowed up Gwyn’s Lord Soul in an instant, then I have to say, I feel slightly less sorry for him. That might sound harsh, but, narratively speaking, dying for something is easy. Dying period is easy. Dying is so easy that you’re doing it right now while reading this, without even trying. But living for something takes work. Living is hard, full of sweat and blood and tears. When we kill Gwyn, we get his Lord Soul, which I always translated as meaning that the First Flame wasn’t done consuming it. Gwyn didn’t die in a flash; he’d been dying for the last thousand years, letting the First Flame slowly burn him from the inside out.

Gwyn was so afraid of the Dark that he had let himself been immolated alive for a whole millennium. And to me, that makes the fight with Gwyn that much more meaningful; the Chosen Undead isn’t killing some tyrant who took the coward’s way out, they’re killing someone who was formerly proud and noble but is now so consumed with fear that they were willing to kill themselves in one of the most painful ways possible over the course of centuries. We come again to that reminder; the Lords and the humans are not so different from one another. They are both capable of committing evil and making dire mistakes. When the Chosen Undead looks at Gwyn as The Lord of Cinder, they are seeing a reflection of themselves.

That’s the thing about the Golden Age. A lot of people through history have focused on Diomedes’ theories about how the ages of man are proof that every succeeding generation is worse than their own, without really looking at the moral. But the moral, the real truth that Diomedes wanted to reveal with the ages of man, is that yes, things are getting worse; so enjoy today. It’s pointless to try and fight the cycle of entropy, so don’t ignore the good things you have now. And I feel like that’s a core moral of Dark Souls; Gwyn tried to fight the cycle of entropy and lost his family, his friends, and his kingdom. Meanwhile, Manus, holder of the Dark Soul itself, just lay down quietly in a grave after a life well-lived. (Y’know, until his own people raised him as a horrific abomination.) There is nothing that anybody can do to defy the cycle of entropy, so hold on to what is dear as best you can.

And that’s where I’m going to leave on this one, because it’s long overdue. “But wait!” I hear you say, “What about Gwyndolin? What about Smough and Ornstein? What about Velka?” Well, don’t you worry. Because when I said I wanted to do some mini-lore (or just more regular lore) ramblings, those are exactly who I had in mind. So stick around for more Lordly goodness!

[hethrewmyheartinthecut]

The Bride • Chapter 16

The Letter • Decision time. The last chapter.

Chapter 15 • on ao3

It was late in the morning, as Esme could see by the slant of sunlight coming in through her two bedroom windows, and she had grown sorry of lying there, thinking of the night before, and being miserable. Tired of making up reproaches in her mind to Campbell, to Tommy, most of all to herself. Tired of wallowing in helplessness. It wasn’t her natural state.

Tommy had not come by, as he usually did, with a knock on the door (or a kick on the door if he was in a poor mood) to get her up, and she wasn't sure whether to take that as a sign of consideration or to feel a bit amiss about the break in their routine. Perhaps both.

And why shouldn't she have a good day? When she looked in the mirror, the sight of her own neck made her stare as if watching a ship sink; the grotesque, mottled purples and yellows and reds striping her throat in evidence of two hands was possibly one of the ugliest things she'd ever seen in her life. But. She had scarves now. She had scarves now, and it was a Sunday, the sun shining outside, the birds still singing, and she'd had enough of moping about in the last month to last a lifetime. She’d take the day for her own.

With a red scarf patterned in tiny yellow flowers masking her bruises, a thick braid keeping her hair out of her face, and a new dress complete with deep hidden pockets, she was all set to go. There was an envelope slid under her door, rather fat, with Tommy's spidery handwriting spelling out her name on the envelope. He must have had plenty to say, but she didn't want to read any of it, so instead she put it in her pocket.

"The kettle's on," said Tommy. She'd expected him in his office, but he was sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper, leaning back in his chair with apparent ease, but also with dark circles under his eyes.

"You're a terrible actor.” If Esme’s voice was more hoarse than usual, he didn't appear to notice. "That paper's three days old. I know you've already read it."

He didn't put the newspaper down, just watched her over the top of it as she picked out a mug and poured out the water and got the tea and the sugar and scrounged for biscuits and--

"I didn't read your letter, alright?" she said. "It's my day off."

"On Easter, it's everyone's day off."

Oh. She'd forgotten. Well, she could be forgiven for that. Despite evidence of scrubbing, there was still a dark stain on the floorboards, and avoiding it as she made the tea was taking up a large part of her mind's capacity.

"Why aren't you out on the town, then?" she said. "The shop's closed."

"Arthur and John are taking Finn for a hunt; he still hasn't taken down a deer by himself, and he's getting to that age."

"Why didn't you go with them?"

He shrugged. "I had to read the paper. And make tea."

That was a gesture of comfort, although one so paltry in comparison to the original offense that it was almost insulting. Every time she so much as looked at him, a hundred words all piled into her mind, clamoring to have their say, and going ignored because she knew that all she needed to say had already been said. She'd never admit it, but having him there was a small comfort. Tea with him at that table was the closest thing to a consistent pulse of normalcy that she had.

"Anyhow," he went on, "Polly and Ada and Lizzie are having a picnic. You're invited."

"When?"

"Whenever you want. The car's outside."

Esme would've preferred to go on the hunt, but it was better not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Instead of heading out the door, she let herself into the office, checked the drawer, and yes, there it was, the revolver that Tommy had offered her. That felt like years ago.

Esme noticed that he'd gotten up and was leaning against the wall, watching her through the empty space in the office door where glass used to be. She didn't try to hide the gun, just checked to see that it was loaded and put it in her biggest pocket, next to the letter.

"You're not going to read it, are you," he said.

"I'm going to have a good day. However much I can."

She was nearly out the front door, car keys in hand, when she heard him say: "I am sorry."

"I know." The sunlight was on her face and she didn't turn. "But in your whole life, Tommy, when have your feelings ever been more important than what you've done?"

He cleared his throat, slightly. "So do you..."

Esme turned around completely to meet his eyes. "What?"

Tommy cleared his throat. “Do you want to know how he did it?"

"Campbell had a key to our house, I assume he got that from you. A crowded pub's an odd place to meet a copper, but a very good place to get pickpocketed. It was obvious that he’d coordinated with the new Chief of Police. Especially when he stopped making speeches long enough to get a telephone call from someone who told him to hurry up and kill me. It was earlier than he was expecting; you left the bar early. You arrived running, so you knew. Maybe the Chief of Police has a taste for making speeches too."

"However bad an actor you think I am, he was worse, actually."

"I don't give a damn," she said, without rancor and without much emphasis. It was a mere fact. "There is sunlight, outside. I am going to go sit in it. There are women who have never tried to kill me. I am going to go talk to them."

There were a great deal of hugs, but nobody made any particular fuss about her neck, which Esme was grateful for. Two cars, four women, one baby, and a basket of food all made for a merry afternoon, especially when that basket turned out to contain a few bottles of wine as well. Out there in the open, Esme felt as though she’d stepped into a pleasant dream, and though it would inevitably end, it was at least

"All right, let's play a game," said Ada, when at last most of the food and half the wine had disappeared down their throats. They were all sprawled out on the big blanket, watching the clouds go by as Karl babbled on from his little bassinet.

"What kind of game?" said Lizzie.

"Questions and Commands."

"Oh, how old are we?" said Polly.

"It'll be fun!" said Ada.

"Sure," said Esme, thinking to herself that one of the clouds looked very much like either a goat or Johnny Dogs grinning. "As long as I don't have to be queen."

"Polly?"

"No." Polly’s tone, and the long drink of wine she took as punctuation, suggested it was a minor miracle that she was tolerating the existence of the game at all.

"Lizzie?"

"Go on, Ada, you're the one who suggested it."

"Yeah, but now I can't think of anything clever."

“Do something obvious, then.”

“Hm.” Ada considered it for a moment, then grinned. “What’s the biggest cock you’ve ever seen?” To demonstrate, she displayed a length with her hands. Fairly considerable, nothing awe-inspiring.

“Ada!” said Lizzie. Polly, apparently either loosened by wine, was already copying Ada. Esme was thinking about it.

After a minute, everyone was goggling at the length Esme displayed.

“That can’t be possible,” said Lizzie, after a moment. “I’d know about it if it was. Who in hell…”

“A racehorse I once saw,” Esme said. “What? You didn’t say it had to be from a man.”

“Jesus Christ,” said Polly, disgusted but also faintly relieved. “Next question.”

“And this time, make it saner,” said Lizzie.

“Fine. How many children do you want to have?”

“Oh, I’m getting older,” said Lizzie. “And who knows if this cunt will survive the twins.”

“Yeah,” said Ada, “But if you could have whatever you wanted?”

Lizzie pondered the question. “The four I have, the two on the way, and maybe a little boy. Maybe.”

“Fuck, that’s a lot,” Ada laughed. “I think I could manage three. Four at most.”

“It’s fine,” said Esme. “If you have them far enough apart, the older ones mind the younger ones, and it’s actually less work, because the younger ones keep the older ones occupied.”

“You’d want as much as seven, then?” said Ada.

“No,” said Esme. “I’m not going to have any.”

The three others stared at her with varying degrees of fascination.

“What?” Esme said. “For one thing, I’d have to fuck my husband.”

“I sent you on a honeymoon,” said Polly accusingly.

“And I slept the night through,” Esme lied. “Best decision I’ve ever made. Can you honestly say that you blame me?”

They considered this. Polly was clearly calculating, Ada did not want to think of the presence or absence of sex in her brother’s life, and Lizzie, well. Lizzie was giving Esme a look paired with a half-shrug that could be interpreted several ways, one of which was: he’s not so bad.

“What about you, Polly?” Esme said hurriedly.

“If I could have whatever I wanted? Two. A boy and a girl.” Polly said it very casually, but Ada was looking at her with such regret that Esme immediately grasped the basics of the situation. She felt a little guilty too.

“Next question?” Esme said, hoping they could move that train of thought along. “Make it something ridiculous, and don’t make it about cocks again, I’m tired of talking about men.”

“Fine. Then let’s talk about communism. Ladies, why have you not yet joined the cause?”

“Oh God,” Esme groaned. “Ada, don’t proselytize, it’s unbecoming.”

“I’m not allowed to talk about children, or men. Now I’m not allowed to talk about politics?”

“Fine,” said Esme. “I’m not a communist because they’re all gadjes.”

“I’m clearly not.”

“Right, well, I’m out anyway. Lizzie?”

“I did go to a meeting, once. But I’m pregnant, I’m about to be married, and life is about to improve for the first time for me in about ten years. Bad timing to be plotting a revolution if you ask me.”

“I went to meetings all the time pregnant!”

“We can’t all be you, Ada! Besides, two babies means twice the sleeping. Twice the eating.”

“Twice the pickles,” offered Esme.

“Yes, exactly,” said Lizzie.

Polly snorted. “I’m not a communist because I’m not one for mad dreams.”

“You pray every day, Pol,” said Ada.

“When I pray, a whole war goes by, and Arthur and Tommy and John come back. When you go to your meetings, years go by and Lloyd George is still at Number 10.”

“Well. I’m a Communist because I believe that a decent life should not be out of reach. I believe that it’s a fanciful dream to ask for a country whose orphans are cared for. And I don’t believe that it’s ridiculous to ask for a government that doesn’t drag your men off to war and make them die in foreign countries for no goddamn reason at all.” With those shining eyes and all that conviction, Ada did look convincing to Esme. Or maybe that was just the wine.

“Run for office, why don’t you,” said Lizzie good-naturedly.

“I will.”

“God have mercy on us all,” said Polly.

Karl, who had previously been quite happy in his bassinet, began to cry.

“Time for his afternoon snack,” said Ada.

Polly checked her pocketwatch. “Time I got back. There’s a bit of business needs taking care of. Canal business. I can’t be late.”

Polly drove the car home, because of course she did.

After the food, the wine, and the sunlight, Esme rather enjoyed it; she dozed all the way into the city, and woke only when they reached Birmingham proper. It was just as well; every time she observed the slow fade from green to grey, she wanted to turn the car around. She'd never get used to it.

When Polly parked the car, she turned to Esme instead of getting out.

"This is who we are, you know," she said. "Going to a picnic with a gun in your pocket. Babies and men trying to kill you in your own home. Sisters, brothers, and coppers at every fucking turn. There is not one without the other."

“I know.”

“You’re not going to change him.”

Esme would have laughed, but Polly looked dead serious. “I haven’t the least intention. I’d be more successful trying Communism than trying to reform that man.”

Polly's dark eyes invaded Esme, and Esme had to bite her lip to keep from saying, what do you want from me?

“I married into the Shelby family myself, under circumstances not too different from your own. People think it’s a wedding band that makes you family, but it’s not. It’s something you prove, and it’s a decision you make for yourself. God knows I don’t need you to have children, and I certainly don’t need you to fuck Tommy; in fact I don’t need anything from you at all. But it will be better for you when you see a future with this family. When you make that decision for yourself. It may seem like all doors closing, but you’d be surprised at what it opens up, too.”

"I understand," Esme said, although she did not. She just wanted those all-seeing dark eyes away from her.

And just like that, the magnetic, almost royal authority in Polly’s voice slipped away, and it was back to Polly, her aunt-in-law, again. "I'll see you tomorrow. Put some honey in your tea for that throat." With that, she climbed out of her car and headed home. After a moment, Esme did the same.

As soon as she came in the door, Esme called, "How’s your old newspaper?"

The house was, of course, empty.

She sighed, hung up her coat, and started in on dinner.

It was well after dinner, as Esme was idly going through one of Lizzie's unreadable books, when there was a knocking on the door, fast and frantic. Hand on her gun, she advanced to the door, then peeked through the lookout hole.

She opened the door. "Jesus, Curly. Do you know what time it is?"

"No." He looked scared. No, terrified. A light rain fell, and he’d apparently lost that hat he always liked to wear.

Esme glanced beyond him and saw nobody following, just the tailor, Mr. Ellis, walking home from work. "Well, come in,” she said.

Curly was wringing his hands nervously. "I can't."

"Why?"

"I have to--have to get Arthur. Do you know where he is?"

"He's gone. John and Finn too, all on a hunting trip. What's wrong?"

"In the stables. They hit Charlie over the head."

"Who's they?"

"The Irish, I think. I think. And they hit Charlie over the head!"

"Why?"

"I don't know, they hit Charlie over the head and they're hurting Tommy."

Esme tugged him inside and locked the door. "Hurting him how?"

"I don't know."

"Then how do you know they're hurting him?"

"I don't know!" The poor man looked like a horse about to bolt.

"Okay. It's okay." Esme put a hand on his shoulder and slowed her voice. "Do you know how to use the telephone?"

"Yes, yes."

"Can you call Polly and tell her exactly what you just told me?"

He nodded eagerly.

"Good man. Lock the door behind me."

When Esme snuck in, the stables were all dust and soft gold in the light of a couple lamps, smelling of sweet hay and horses and saddle soap, altogether too lovely a place for her to be hearing what she was hearing.

"Where are they?" a man shouted over and over, almost screeching really. It would have been funny but for the punctuation of fists hitting flesh.

Esme closed her eyes and tried to think it through. Fists he could take. Polly lived close; by now Curly would have told her everything. She'd send someone. No. She was on the way herself, probably; Esme could picture her striding in and shooting the man square between the eyes, the man dropping like a sack of flour.

"Where are they? Where are they? Where are they?"

"As I told you--"

Crack.

In the silence, Esme winced. That was bone, wasn't it. That was bone. Fuck. And then, into the silence, Tommy said, through his teeth: "All right. 415 Eastwick."

"North or South?" That was a new voice, a second man. Significantly less shrill, quieter, more terrifying.

"South. South Eastwick. I'll take you there."

There was a silence.

"Give him to me," said the second man. There was a note in his voice that sent a chill down Esme's spine.

"Why?" said the first.

"415 South Eastwick isn't anywhere. It's the local cemetery."

A hail of blows, now. "You fucking--"

"Shut up," said the second man, and miraculously, there was silence again. For one brief, blessed moment.

And then a splash. Splashing, a lot of it, from the far end of the barn where they were, where the trough was, and why?

Suddenly the splashing ended and Tommy was panting hard and there were droplets of water falling in the trough and oh, oh, oh. The sound of him almost drowning was far too much like the way he sounded coming out of his worst dreams. That first gasp. She'd heard it a dozen times and it still made her chest clench.

"Enough?" said the second man, very quietly.

Tommy laughed, and she could picture his face, eyes mirthless and mouth stretched wide and bloody and she closed her eyes. Please.

Splashing again, and then suddenly more; he must be fighting back. Longer. How long could this go, Jesus, how long could he hold out? Don't think of him straining against the hands holding him down, don't think of his hands gripping the edge of the trough or the wrists, the wrists like she'd gripped the wrists, like she'd--

And this time when they let him up, he was halfway to choking, body betraying him in the panicked sounds from his chest when he couldn't catch his breath and she felt something flood her, something very cold in every limb. She got to her feet and put her hand in her pocket.

Then she walked into the aisle between the stalls and took aim.

Her first shot tore into the standing man's shoulder and spun him round till he was facing her. In a blur of movement in her peripheral vision, Tommy lunged for the man crouched over him, but she stayed staring, and aiming, at the standing man. Her second shot went a wild miss and her third hit the standing man just above the hip as he looked at her, absolutely astonished, swaying a little now and mumbling out, "Who—" before the fourth shot hit him properly in the chest and he fell hard on his back.

Tommy was wrestling with the second man, no longer making those awful choking sounds but growling primal instead, so she left him to it and walked quickly down the aisle to stand above the fallen man.

He still had on that bewildered look. She realized what that cold feeling was; it was rage.

"I'm his wife," she said to the man on the ground, but he was no longer listening.

She turned from the corpse to her husband. Tommy, kneeling, had gotten the second man in some sort of a headlock and was now shoving him headfirst into the water, submerging him up to his shoulders. Esme watched the drowning man writhe and kick futilely for a second, then walked to Tommy's side.

Tommy held out his hand, and she put the gun into it. In one fluid motion, Tommy yanked the man up out of the water, put the gun to his head, and blew a spray of red all over his face and her dress and the hay.

They stayed like that, she standing, watching him, he holding up the second corpse by its hair, gun in hand, for what seemed to be a frozen moment. But then Tommy let go of both.

He turned around and sat with his back to the trough, still panting hard. He closed his eyes.

Esme laid her hand on his shoulder. Tommy took it in his own, and as his panting slowed, as the sounds of peace (horses moving restlessly in their stalls, the wind outside, a few evening birds) took over the stables again, he interlaced their fingers.

That was how Polly found them. She came in just as Esme had imagined her: gun up, eyes hard. After taking stock of the situation, she put away her gun in her purse.

"What happened?" she said.

"IRA thought we still had the guns," said Tommy.

"And I decided," said Esme.

Polly took one hard look at Esme, which Esme met without force and without apology. Then she nodded. "I'll leave you to it."

As the stable door shut behind her, Esme got down beside Tommy and dipped her free arm in the water trough behind them. Gripping the sleeve in her hand, she washed his face, or at least wiped away most of the blood before it could get too badly caked on.

He wrinkled his nose and submitted himself to her ministrations, like a resigned but disapproving cat getting a bath.

"Is this necessary?" he said.

"This is what wives do."

"Is it?" He looked pointedly at the dead body next to him.

"No. But it's what I do," Esme said firmly.

That was precisely the moment for sarcasm, but he appeared to have forgotten the familiar cadence of their usual sniping. The expression in his blue eyes gave her pause.

"What?"

Now that most of the blood was gone, she could see that come morning, he was going to have a very fine black eye. He already had a split lip, and yet, was that a smile on his face? Perhaps, barely.

"You read the letter, didn't you," he said.

"No. But…" Esme reached into her pocket.

She read silently to herself, though she mouthed the words a little, as was her habit. He watched her, not reading over her shoulder but reading her face instead.

Dear Esme,

I imagine you will have much to say to me after tonight, and if I were to try and tell you anything, you wouldn’t hear me. Nonetheless, there is some things you should know, and the sooner the better. So I write.

I should not have promised you anything. I am not a man who is in any position to make promises about safety to anyone he cares about. It must have been obvious even then, although I chose not to see it.

“You know,” Esme said, without looking up, “I think Polly managed to say as much to me earlier. In far fewer words than a whole page.”

"She said all that?"

But Esme had already continued reading.

What I should have told you instead is the truth: there is no end to this. We will never be accepted or protected by any but our own. Sometimes I allow myself to believe otherwise, but that is only a weakness, a wish to sleep through the night.

There is no excuse for this, but is perhaps an explanation, however insufficient.

When we married, I anticipated little from you, and have been learning my mistake since. Having a wife with so much fight in her is hardly convenient, but from the moment I heard you went down to the jail to see Freddie for yourself, I knew you were a Shelby. Ada says I’m lucky to have you, and out of all our father’s children, she is the one with the best judgment.

I wanted to be the kind of husband that could offer you safety in return, since I could offer you nothing else.  There is money, but you chose Hart’s shop over the department store, so I doubt you consider it much of an advantage. I can’t give you the life you want, or the work you want, and I think you know my heart is not my own to offer.

In another life, I could do better. In this one, I won’t make you any more false promises. I am, perhaps despite appearances, pleased to be

Your husband,

Thomas Shelby

Though she had finished reading, Esme continued to stare at the page. “No,” she said slowly. “Polly didn’t say all of that.”

"I didn't think so," Tommy said.

Esme folded up the letter carefully, put it back in the envelope, and tucked the envelope away once more.

“Well?” said Tommy. He’d produced a cigarette miraculously dry, and lit it. (Because of course he did.) Now he smoked, uneasily, and studied the horses in their stalls.

Esme leaned over and kissed his cheek, then settled back against the trough. A comfortable silence reigned.

After a little while, he pointed with his free hand.

"Do you see that?"

"Lovely," she said. It was a black mare, glossy even in the dull lamplight, a little short, sturdy but graceful. Her big brown eyes appeared completely untroubled by all that had happened in her home, and Esme soaked in that incredible placid trust. She hadn't felt the same way since she was a child, but there was something so beautiful about it, even in a horse.

"She's all yours."

Esme rested her head on his shoulder and watched the mare twitch her tail a few times to keep away flies. She smiled. "I love her."

"You love her, eh?" He produced a cigarette from his pocket, miraculously dry, and lit it. Because of course he did.

"Yes," said Esme. "I know I've only just met her, but I love her."

"Well," said Tommy. "I can sympathize with that."

THE BEGINNING

Dear readers: I cannot thank you all enough. Your comments have really gotten me through; I absolutely could not have had the energy to complete this by myself. “I could not have done this without you” is a tired phrase, I know, but it is so completely accurate that it makes cliché unavoidable. I love you all so much, and I appreciate so much that you took the time to read what I’ve written. This has been an incredible 38 days of creative energy and I intend to keep the ball rolling!

Just. WE DID IT! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

On the sequel: I hope you do not find the ending to The Bride too disappointing, especially in light of the upcoming sequel. In The Bride, I set for myself the goal of answering the question: how and why would a person choose to become part of this family? For an independent, self-possessed, opinionated and capable woman, what would the transition from outsider to family look like, what would it feel like? I think I’ve answered that, at least in part.

I look forward enormously to writing the sequel, which I have already begun writing and plotting. It will be a much more explicitly romantic, darker story that follows the two perspectives of Esme and Tommy, hopping between two storylines, one in 1922, and one in 1923. I hope to continue indulging in my love of dialogue, while expanding my plotting capabilities, incorporating more action (as perhaps you’ve seen in the latest chapters), and overall paying very close attention to nuanced, believable relationship dynamics.

I intend to make you sadder, in multiple ways and in multiple directions. But I also intend to leave you more satisfied.

If any of this sounds interesting, reply or ask or whatever and let me know, and I’ll tag you when the first chapter of the sequel is published. For a sneak peek and poster of the sequel, look here.

The Bride on ao3 • masterlist 

@blinder-secrets @peakystitches, @prettieparker86, @tommyshelyb, @sympathyfortheblinderdevil, @annaistiredofyourshit, @lolashelby, @peakyrach, @fookingblinders, @theskinofmyemotions, @b000ks, @pure-bastard-extract, @siobhanlovesfilm, @unluckymonaghan, @sameshitdiffernetday (lmk if you want added or removed from tag notifications on The Bride)

[thatbluegibson]

CH 52

“Has anyone told you how happy everyone is that Dave finally got the balls to meet you?” Ally giggled a little and leaned into Liz as they walked down the hallway leading to Liz’s room.

Liz put her arm around Ally to steady her, “No?” she laughed awkwardly.

“McCartney hounded him for months,” Ally stopped short and made sure Dave and Taylor were too far ahead of them to hear before continuing. “Taylor said there were all these dinners and parties that Paul would invite Dave to, but he turned them all down. We had a feeling you were invited to them, too.”

Liz thought about all the dinners she sat through with Paul, Nancy and Johnny and wondered if maybe Johnny was called as a last minute replacement for Dave. “I didn’t realize there was a coup involved,” she shrugged. 

“He just...,” Ally turned to look at Dave before linking her arm with Liz’s and continuing down the hallway, “He’s back to him again. Two weeks ago you wouldn’t have recognized him.”

“He was kinda moody when I met him, but he seemed fine at Silva’s party,” Liz remembered. 

Ally laughed loudly at that, causing Dave and Taylor look back at them for a moment, “Taylor came home so drunk that night,” she whispered, “He wouldn’t shut up about Dave finally getting laid.”

“Oh my god, Ally. I didn’t even sleep with him that night,” Liz giggled. They bit back their laughter once they caught up with Dave and Taylor at the end of the hallway.

“What the hell is so funny?” Taylor asked.

“None of your business, Hawkins,” Ally tried to sound stern, but her and Liz were both giggling too much to seem angry. “Where’s our room? My feet are killing me.”

Taylor pointed to a door just a few feet away just as Dave unlocked the door to Liz’s room. “Oh did I book the room right next to yours? How weird is that?” Taylor put his hands on his hips and shook his head, a sarcastic smile on his face.

“Great!” Ally chirped and pulled Liz past Dave and into Liz’s room, “We’ll see you boys in the morning!” She looked back at Dave and Taylor still in the hallway. “I can’t tell if they’re surprised or if they’re imagining us together in bed,” she muttered.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a healthy mixture of both,” Liz headed into the bedroom, jumping when Ally laid a loud smack on her ass. They both laughed when Taylor made a pained groaning sound as the door shut behind them.

*

“Hey, do you think I should tell Dave about what happened earlier? With the banshee in the bathroom?” Liz called out to Ally from the closet. She had been debating telling him all night, but then his ex showed up and things just got too weird.

“I would probably not tell him that, ever,” Ally laughed. “The poor guy needs therapy every time she pops up.”

“So I have a tshirt and boy shorts or… boy shorts and a sports bra,” Liz stepped out of the closet holding Ally’s pajama options, feeling a little bad that she didn’t have more to offer.

“The shirt’s fine,” Ally smiled, “Thanks for letting me borrow them. So did he tell you about Melissa?” Liz handed them over and sat on the bed next to her.

“Melissa?” Liz asked, leaning forward to pull off her heels.

“His ex? The one that literally threw herself into our table tonight to get his attention?”

“Oh, yeah he said she was a little aggressive,” Liz muttered. She felt a little bad discussing this with Ally, like it was gossip that Dave wouldn’t want her to know.

“A little? Taylor said she bit his neck!”

“I think she just kissed him, but it totally freaked him out,” she shook her head, trying to forget the look on Dave’s face. “So anyways…”

“I’m just happy he’s with you now,” Ally swayed a little on the bed next to Liz. “Taylor and I haven’t had a night alone in, god I can’t even remember! Between the kids and the tour, it’s impossible to fit in a marriage.” She paused for a moment, thinking something over before jumping a little, “Oh! Not that… not that it couldn’t work, you know… just that-“

Liz threw her arm around Ally’s shoulders and squeezed, “It’s okay, I know what you mean.” She stood up from the bed and began to pull off her jewelry, laying them out neatly on the nightstand next to her.

“He wants another baby,” Ally said so quietly that Liz had to take a minute to make sure she heard her correctly.

“Are you on board with that?” she asked, feeling a bit uncomfortable. She really liked Ally and was sure they could be close friends, but they had only met a couple times before.

“Absolutely,” she insisted, “It’s just proving a bit more difficult than the other attempts.”

Something in her voice made Liz hurry back to her side and Ally looked up at her, a little embarrassed that her eyes were full of tears, “Now it’s all doctors and shots and scheduled sex,” she forced a little laugh, “not exactly the most romantic way to make a baby.”

“Oh… Ally,” Liz took her hand and squeezed it, hoping it helped just a little, “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s fine. Maybe we’re only meant to have the three, you know?” she brushed the tears off her cheeks, “Fuck! Sorry, I didn’t mean to get so heavy on you.”

“No, that’s okay,” Liz replied, her head swimming a little with the new information and alcohol, “Let me know if there’s anything I can do.”

Ally’s eyes went wide for a moment, “Well…,” she started, but then apparently changed her mind and forced a giggle, “Oh I’m sure Taylor would love if you helped out!”

They both fell back onto the bed in a fit of laughter, but were startled when the bedroom door flew open and Taylor bolted into the room followed quickly by Dave.

“Goddamnit, you said they were kissing!” Taylor whined and punched Dave’s shoulder.

“I said giggling, asshole!” Dave punched him back and Taylor threw his shoulder into him, sending them tumbling back out into the sitting room.

“Out of all the guys in that ballroom tonight, we ended up with Harry and Lloyd from Dumb and Dumber,” Ally sighed.

Liz stared up at the bedroom ceiling for a second before losing herself to laughter again.

*

Dave slammed the bedroom door behind Ally and Taylor and shrugged off his suit jacket, throwing it onto the makeup chair while Liz pulled her hair up off of her neck.

“Travis gave me he phone number in case there’s an emergency,” he said, watching her carefully, “Should I be concerned?”

Liz’s eyes flashed to his in surprise, “I don’t know. How jealous would Taylor be if he knew another man was after you?”

“Wait-,” he looked between Liz and the bedroom door where Travis was probably sound asleep in the opposite bedroom. “He’s-?”

Liz laughed and shook her head, “No, but sometimes I wonder. He just likes to have a second line of communication if I make him leave me alone for more than an hour. It’s a military thing. So tell me again why we mixed alcohol?” she muttered, quickly changing the subject. She made a face and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Because Tom Waits said ‘You can learn a lot about a woman by getting smashed with her’,” he replied and fell backwards onto her bed.

“In wine there is wisdom, in beer there is freedom, in water there is bacteria,” Liz returned to the doorway with her toothbrush and jammed it in her mouth, trying to scrub away the taste of jaeger and cheap energy drink.

“Who said that?” Dave picked his head up off the sheets and looked up at her.

“Ben Franklin, but most likely not,” she shrugged and went to rinse her mouth out, jumping when the bathroom wall next to her began to shake with a rhythmic pounding. Her eyes wide, she poked her head out of the bathroom and looked at Dave, who had tilted his head up to watch the painting above her bed bounce against the pounding wall.

“God damn, Taylor,” he laughed, “Ally’s going to need crutches tomorrow.”

“Oh my god! They just got in their room!” Liz giggled, returning to throw her toothbrush in her makeup bag and figure out the best way to peel off her fake eyelashes.

Dave dragged himself off the bed to join her, leaning back against the bathroom counter to watch her transformation from Hollywood Liz to his favorite version of her.

“So what did getting smashed teach you about me?” she said over noise of the thumping wall.

“That you’ll waste a good ten minutes of your life trying to get at a fucking cherry,” he teased.

Liz snorted, still focused on peeling her eyelashes off, “A trait I share with most men, I’m sure.”

“That you’re a killer shot with a champagne cork,” he pushed off the counter, “And that thanks to your parents, you have some pretty lofty goals when it comes to romance.”

Liz dropped the fake eyelashes on the counter and looked back at him in surprise, “Lofty?”

“Do you honestly expect me to sing Clapton to you every night for the rest of our lives?” he teased, slowly walking towards her until her shoulders were against the thumping wall.

Rest of our what? she thought and began to loosen his black tie from his neck. “He also rubs her feet every night and buys her diamonds for every special occasion,” she whispered.

He tilted her chin up with his fingers and brushed his nose against hers, “You were the only woman not wearing diamonds tonight.”

“I don’t like diamonds,” she countered, pulling his tie free and dropping it at her feet. “I’m not my mother.”

Dave stared down at her, her green eyes almost daring him to say or do something when the wall behind her suddenly silenced and a shadow of a smile spread across her face.

“Oh dear,” she sighed and checked her imaginary watch, making Dave laugh.

*

 “There’s my girl!” Dave threw back the covers when Liz finally emerged after struggling to remove her makeup.

“It went from bad to Alice Cooper to worse in there,” she smiled at the thought of him referring to her as his more frequently and climbed into bed next to him. “I think Josie used actual spackle at some point.”

“I’d still hit it,” Dave said, distracted by the TV in front of them as he flipped through the channels.

“Hang on,” Liz leaned across him to grab her phone from the nightstand on his side of the bed, “I’ll call Vince.”

“Nope,” he tossed the remote to the floor and threw her sideways across bed. He wasn’t about to tell her that Depp had called her no less than six times while she was scrubbing her face raw and that he smugly laughed each time her screen lit up with Wind Chime. He felt even more smug now that she was pinned underneath him, her arms and legs wrapping around him to bring him closer. “Why did you even put on clothes?” he grumbled into her shoulder and pushed her shirt up around her neck.

“Because despite the pastiche of alcohol I ingested, not one drop was the slut-inspiring tequila.”

Dave looked up from kissing her collarbone and shook his head at her phrasing, “You’re such a fucking nerd, Liz.”

“Hey! I happened to really like college!”

“Then why the hell aren’t you Dr. Liz?” he kept his eyes on her, but managed to shove her shorts down her thighs.

“Because a doctorate seemed too nerdy,” she giggled.

He shook his head at her, but dropped the subject to focus on other things. Working his way down her body, he vaguely wondered how she could be the girl on the rail at his shows, getting his band’s name as a tattoo in the front seat of someone’s car and be working her ass off towards a master’s degree at the same time. And how did he manage to get her into bed? Fuck, maybe he should have gone to college at some point. Tossing the rest of her clothes over his shoulder, he held her hips to the bed and ran a trail of kisses up her thigh, anticipating the giggle she always gave him when he did it. Her breathing hitched a little, but she didn’t arch her back, tense her legs or hold him to her… she was silent. He picked his head up and found her staring blankly up at the ceiling. “You okay up there?”

“Sorry, just thinking about how much more it would take to get the doctorate,” she whispered.

Sensing she wasn’t going to be any fun until she got this out of her head, he crawled back up her body and lay next to her. “In what?”

“I don’t know… Musical Composition?” she said softly, still staring at the ceiling, “I struggled in the end with English, plus the grad robes are way cooler.”

He furrowed his brow a little, thinking that he had only seen her touch an instrument three times since he had met her two weeks ago. She was obviously a natural, but he had never known a musician to go longer than a day or two without at least humming a tune.

“I could get back into it, right?” she asked, more to herself than to him. They were silent for a beat when she resolutely nodded her head and turned sharply to him, shoving him onto his back and throwing her leg over him. She pressed her hands into the blankets beside his head and kissed him, just as the loud thumping from Taylor and Ally’s room resumed.

“We can go in the other bedroom,” Liz whispered, as if someone could overhear them through all the noise. Travis would be willing to trade rooms… maybe.

Dave locked his arms around her waist and shook his head, “I’ve been thinking about you in this exact bed since the first night we spent together.”

Liz glanced at the shaking wall and rolled her eyes when Taylor’s swearing joined in, “Alright, fine. But you’d think that a hotel that’s damn near a thousand bucks a night could afford some fucking insulation.”

[lunawho47]

Anastasia Survey

 stolen from my-bicepsburg

Why is Anastasia special to you? I was introduced to the story when I was 10.  I love stories in general, and some just naturally stick with me more than others.  This one really stuck.  Add in the fact that I adored Dimitri, and have now had a 20 year crush on that character, and there you have it.

Do you prefer musical, movie or real life Anastasia?  All three.  Was that an option?

Which one of the impostors should have been the real Anastasia in your opinion? None.  I’ve done a lot of research on the Romanovs over the last two decades, and sadly none of the impostors were her.  I have little respect for them now because I know they were fake.  I do feel a bit sorry for Anna Anderson though, because I do think that after awhile she believed her own story and due to her mental instability, she could not tell the truth for herself anymore.

Favorite song? In the film, it is Once Upon a December.  In the stage play, it is In A Crowd of Thousands.

Least favorite song? In the film, probably Learn to Do It (Reprise) and in the stage show, it would have to be Land of Yesterday (cos I’m always anxious to get to Crowd of Thousands.)

Would you have been friends with Anastasia? I would like to think so. I like pranksters and people who don’t take themselves too seriously.  

Favorite character? Dimitri/Dmitry.

Least favorite character? Probably Gleb.  Not because of anything the character does in the show, but because the fandom has over romanticized him.  He’s supposed to be like Javert -- believable and understandable, but not a genuine love interest, despite what his feelings may be.

Favorite cast member? In the film, John Cusack. (I’ve followed his work ever since, and he was an absolute sweetheart when I met him last year).  In the show, I genuinely can’t pick.  I love all the main cast too much.

Favorite characteristic of Anastasia? Her sassiness.  I’ve tried to emulate it as I’ve grown up.

Tony categories it should have been nominated for? Best Actress in a Musical (Christy Altomare), Best Song (In A Crowd of Thousands), Best Stage Musical, Best Actor in a Musical (Derek Klena), Best Supporting Actor in a Musical (John Bolton), Best Music Score (Terrence McNally).  Just...all the awards.

Unpopular opinion? I think the final confrontation between Gleb and Anya is really anti-climactic.  All that build up and then he just drops the gun and cries on the floor?  I can’t seen it ending any other way in that situation, but it was still just...meh.

Have you seen it live?  Yes.  Twice -- once in the Hartford Previews, and once on Broadway.

When did you become a fan of it?  When I was ten and the movie came out.  When my BFF and I read in 2014 that they were adapting it for the stage, we decided then and there, we would see it when they did.

If you could travel through time and meet Anastasia, which question would you ask her?  Are you happier at home in Tsarksoe Selo or on the Standartt?

Part of the musical/movie that makes you sad?  Watching the final moments/attempted survival of the Romanovs (the prologue of the film and the Last Dance of the Romanovs in the stage play).

Favorite fact about the real Anastasia? That she was a huge prankster who never lost her sense of humor -- she was pranking and teasing the soldiers even in her final hours at Ipatiev House.

Favorite quote by Anastasia? The few quotes we have from letters from the real Anastasia are all sad, so I won’t quote those here.  From the film, it’s “Men are such babies!” and from the stage show, it’s “The Grand Duchess Anastasia Romanov would beg to disagree, Dima!”

Opinion on the movie and its inaccuracies?  They don’t bother me.  It was never intended to be a historical re-enactment.  It’s a fairy tale, based in a mystery from history -- a mystery never near explained until 50 years after the live action film and ten years after the Don Bluth animated film.

Opinion on the Royal Misfits backstage vlog?  It gives me life on Tuesday.  I’m endlessly amused by it.

Opinion on the musical?  I love it.  (Check out my blog the last year for proof.)  It took a story I already loved and made me love it even more.

Which character do you relate to?  Probably Lily (from the stage show).  Funny, stuck in the way things were, sassy, and a side character in most main stories.

Dream cast for the musical?  They can’t have a more perfect cast than they already do.

Do you wish there was a really good mini series about NAOTMAA?  I’d kill for one.  But I’d mainly cry through it, I’m sure.  Cos I’d already know what was coming.

Do you want to have a live action remake? Who would you cast in it?  It could be really good!  I’d want the stage show cast though.  I’m picky like that.

Favorite costume?  Anya’s costume for the ball in the 1997 movie/stage show.

Favorite Anastasia related video?  Probably the Anya/Dimitri one to Everything You Want by Vertical Horizon that’s on youtube.  It’s a few years old, but it’s perfect.

Favorite fanart?  Anything focused around Crowd of Thousands. 

Favorite thing about the story?  It’s a tie between the Conman and Princess finding a happily ever after and the Dowager Empress’ sassiness.

Do you speak Russian? A little.  Just everyday terms such as “hello,” “goodbye,” “thank you,” “I love you,” etc.

Would you like to travel to Paris and St. Petersburg? I love to travel, so...YES.

Have you been to Paris or St. Petersburg? I’ve been to Paris (it was overrated, but it was also the height of anti-American sentiment, so I’d probably enjoy it more now).  I still have not made it to St. Petersburg, but it’s one of the top four places on my list.

Opinion on Dimitri Sudayev actually trying to save the real Anastasia?  I think it’s a cool fact, if it’s true.  I looked into it, but I only find it spoken on fandom pages for Anastasia that claim to link to real sources, but the information on the links contradicts itself.  For instance, it says that it’s hidden in FSB records, but that said records were scrubbed almost thirty years ago.  Sounds fishy to me...

Do you believe Anastasia survived? It has been proven that she did not.  It’s sad, but there it is.

Have you ever visited the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg?  Not yet, but I plan to before I die, assuming we don’t go to war with Russia.

Opinion on replacing Rasputin by Gleb in the musical?  It works well, in terms of historical accuracy.  I felt bad for Rasputin getting a bad name in history (although, it wasn’ because of Anastasia; any film with Rasputin painted him as evil).  And I enjoyed having a Javert style antagonist. I missed the humor that Rasputin brought though.

Do you have the music box and/or the necklace?  Yes, I do actually.

Have you met one of the cast members?  Yes. I’ve met two of the 1997 movie cast (John Cusack and Christopher Lloyd) and almost all of the main stage cast (minus Caroline O’Conner, who didn’t stage door that night.)

Have you seen the 1956 movie?  Yes.  I own it actually.

Do you have something in common with Anastasia or even look a little like her?  Sadly, no.  Unless you count my penchant for sassiness and a stubborness that gets me into trouble.  Oh, and I do get attracted to con men, so we have that in common.

[itstimetowatch]

One Angry Veronica

So Meg’s pregnancy was the content of the letter than Duncan squirreled away while Veronica was fixating on the notebook they found in Meg’s vent? Duncan knew about the pregnancy when he was dreaming about Meg in “Ahoy, Mateys!” So what is the significance of that? Does that mean he wants to be with Meg and raise their kid together? Does it just mean that he feels guilty about carrying on his life without her?

I would ask Little Dick if he ever actually met Meg, but it’s hardly surprising that he retails details about other people’s personalities considering he seems to be the only human in history that has managed to remain alive without a functioning brain.

So Duncan’s just standing there waiting on Meg to wake up? Like some kind of creep? He’s a weird guy, Duncan.

So Meg has been awake for ten seconds and her parents are already pressuring her into agreeing to give up the baby? I mean, we knew they were horrible, but they can’t even, for one (1) minute, be relieved that their daughter has come out of a coma after months?

Also, mental health issues or not, I’m pretty sure Duncan’s family lawyers would eat the Manning’s family lawyers for lunch. I’m pretty sure accusations of child abuse hold a lot of sway in family court. Accusations like the one Meg was in the process of filing and can now complete since she’s safe in the hospital and can tell any one of the hospital staff that she doesn’t feel safe around her parents and they will contact child services for her.

A jury duty episode? Are they out of ideas already? Can’t they just bring Wallace back?

I hate this trope, in general, and having it show up at this point in this show, just when this season was starting to get on track… I’m almost certainly not going to like this episode. Fair warning, up front.

So this jury room is just a collection of people I recognize. There’s The Todd from Scrubs and Mr. Lawler from That’s So Raven. The knitting Latina is Alba Villanueva from Jane the Virgin. The black lady is Michael Wyatt, Brianna Barksdale from The Wire and Angela Blake from The West Wing.

LOL! I love how clearly pissed off Sheriff Shithead is in this scene. The last thing in the world he wants is Keith getting into every nook and cranny of the department but he also knows that there’s no conceivable way he could say no to him when the biggest case in the history of Neptune is at stake. I like that his passive-aggressive attitude comes with an extra dollop of passive.

So the crime in question happened in early November and the trial is happening in late December? A (less than) two-month turnaround on this case? On what planet does that happen?

What the fuck is this case? A prostitute with a shitty, minimum-wage day job? A pimp who a) voluntarily turned himself in, b) testified, c) incriminating himself, d) on behalf of two rich white boys that he doesn’t know? Also, for a show that dealt with DNA so much in last season’s cases, they sure seemed to forget that whoever beat up Anissa that badly, definitely would have left some skin cells (at minimum) behind… also, there probably would have been damage to their hands. I don’t know who the prosecutor for this case was but they should have been able to chew up and spit out that defense in seconds.

I knew I wasn’t going to be happy with this. This episode is about to stretch out into infinity. I can feel it already.

So Sacks in the toady for Sheriff Shithead? That explains a lot. I’m a little annoyed at myself for not picking up on this before.

“Is the racial stuff affecting your vote?” “Is it affecting yours?” Yes! Call this self-important asshole out, Abuela!

Schmidt! Deputy Leo back from obscurity, that’s not suspicious at all! I would be completely and utterly shocked if he ends this episode cleaning out the desk that he’s barely occupied in almost a year.

“Good celebrity porn is scarce these days.” Remember when that was true? In the meantime, he practically confesses why he did it.

So how is Lloyd the reporter going to ask his tabloid associate about the sex tapes without revealing to her that such a thing is available to be purchased?

Veronica and Keith need to hire Abuela to come work for them. Again, who prosecuted this case? That person needs to be working at Starbucks by the end of the episode.

Okay, now correct me if I’m wrong, but this is Inga’s first actual appearance since like episode two or three of season one? She’s been mentioned a lot but hasn’t actually appeared. So they’re dragging back all the obscure guest stars connected to the Sheriff’s Department just to throw me off. Well played, Show! That being said they’ve already specifically mentioned that Inga has all the codes and the keycard maker, too obvious! It’s Leo.

So much for Sheriff Shithead’s crack security.

When the fuck would Veronica have had time to do all of this without Keith’s noticing? Making dinner, sure, but the lights and the fully decorated tree? Come on.

“I’m so impressed you fit a pony in my room!”

Okay, so jury tampering from Thumper and the PCH gang is hardly surprising. I wouldn’t be surprised if the 09ers got in on that action either. But Keith? *sigh*

You’ve probably noticed that I’ve basically quit commenting on the jury scenes. I’m basically just done with them. Veronica is essentially conducting her own private investigation, which is wildly inappropriate and grounds for an immediate mistrial. There’s no good reason that the waitress woman who’s desperate to go back to work or the CEO of whatever wouldn’t report her to the judge so that they could all be dismissed and sent home (or to Bangalore or wherever).

Like I get that it’s meant to pay homage to 12 Angry Men, but the problem they’ve flipped the paradigm. In the movie, the lone holdout juror had to convince the others that reasonable doubt existed by poking holes in the prosecution’s case. Here, Veronica and Abuela have to convince everyone that there is no reasonable doubt which a) is much harder to do, and b) kind of not true, in this case. Guilty or not (and they certainly look guilty at this point), the prosecutor has to prove it in court and that was not done.

I’m probably going ignore this plot for the remainder of the episode.

Oh my God, it’s that “Edge of the Ocean” song! That song was in EVERYTHING for a hot minute there!

Yep, Leo.

So now there’s an entire college in Neptune? A college that is fairly expensive, and from the professor’s implication, relatively prestigious? In an unincorporated township? That’s a suburb of San Diego? Like from a practical standpoint, I understand that there had to be something to keep Veronica in Neptune for there to have been another season, but UC San Diego… it’s right there.

Yeah, that one wasn’t my greatest bit of deduction. They really didn’t do a particularly good job of hiding that one.

Meg’s back and dead in one episode. Jesus! I can only assume that she had some sort of conflicting commitment to something else this season, hence Meg being in a coma and off-screen, only to awaken and film two scenes, probably shot back-to-back, and then die, again off-screen.

Oh, Keith, you’re so old! That’s the Times Square New Year’s Rockin Eve broadcast. You’re sacking out prior to midnight Eastern Time… 9pm Pacific Time. You’re so old!

WALLACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Any other episode your return might be enough to redeem a show it’s shortcomings, but not this time.

This is, without doubt, the worst episode of this show so far. I hope it remains the worst episode of the show, because if it gets worse… my god, I don’t even want to think about that.