#Aurora was there for the whole time and never got enough lines :(

[quohotos]

In the marks of secret we learn that the bats do have their own language, and while humans can learn some of it there are some parts that are imperceptibly high pitched. It's my headcanon that Aurora and Ares just have a constant dialogue running between them that Gregor just never notices.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Hello! How have you been? I hope all is well on your side of the world! I was wondering if we could get some more of knightmare? J-just a thought... please🥺🌹

"there you are,"

You jumped, tearing your eyes away from the aurora above you. When you moved your arms and stood up straight, a little snow was disturbed from the smooth stone of the balcony; shooting a glance over your shoulder, you saw Nightmare, silhouetted by the torchlight from within the castle.

"what are you doing out here? you aren't wearing nearly enough to be outside." He closed the door behind him. Immediately, he too was bathed in the green aurora glow that felt like it filled the whole world. The glittering snow crunched gently under the soles of his leather shoes - as he walked toward you, he started to toy with the collar of his large fur-trimmed midnight cloak, unclasping a metal moon charm that took on an emerald glint every time it shifted.

"I'm watching the sky," you replied, meekly, breath escaping in a shimmering cloud.

He came to your side at the balcony, eyelight peering curiously down at you. He tugged loose a fabric knot at his throat. "for how long? i expected you'd be long asleep by now."

"I-I don't know." Now that he had snapped you out of your trance, you were starting to really feel the cold through your simple woollen dress. "It's hard to keep track of time,"

Nightmare sighed. With the knot undone, he drew the great cloak off his shoulders. You watched, mutedly confused - you could hear its silver embroidered ends sweeping over the flagstones.

... He stepped up to you... and brought the cloak around your shoulders.

You blinked up at him, flustered by the proximity once again, as the heavy thing suddenly weighed down upon you. Warmth-imbued soft fabric suddenly soothed your skin, fur tickling your cheeks and nose. He looked so different without the cloak - he wore a lovely long-sleeved dark tunic beneath, the neck and wrists lined with real silver. He looked so handsome, the aurora's glow suited his complexion far more than sun; you liked being able to see his face, less obscured by layers of fur.

You wanted to ask many questions - Are you really sure I can wear this? Is this ok with you? Isn't this precious to you, you wear it all the time? Isn't it expensive? Are you certain?

... Yet... the questions didn't come. Instead, a tiny tired "Thank you," fell out of your mouth.

His eyelight got wider, for a moment. And you could not tell if the aurora had merely brightened, or there was colour on his face. But his expression quickly returned to normal.

Seemingly subconsciously, he touched the fur of the cloak, very near to your face. "i choose to not hear that," he said, gently.

You exhaled. Ah, right. You couldn't thank the fae, could you? Nor apologise. There was implication of debt. "Oh."

He sounded sympathetic. "you've got to be more careful than that. this is no place for slips of the tongue."

"I know. I just... when I'm comfortable, I forget."

He got a strange look on his face.

"could i ask why you are staring at the sky?" He shifted, standing beside you, mimicking your position of elbows rested on the balcony edge. The subject change was not lost on you, but you chose not to speak on it. "with not nearly enough clothes on, i might add."

You stared at him. "Why am I staring? Is that a genuine question?"

His brow creased. "yes?"

You looked back up again. At the sea of stars - but equally, the silent river of green and pink fire that flowed across the open sky.

You had never seen it this strong in the human world, never. There were no words that could fully make sense of it. It was gentle, silent, like smoke, like water, like fire. Like magic.

"I mean..." you were breathless. "... Just look at it."

"it signals morning, for us. a high aurora and a full moon is the closest we get to daylight." His dark, soft voice was perfect for the setting. "some days it is strong, some days it is weak. but it always comes."

"It's really, really beautiful."

... He hummed.

"... yes. it is."

You glanced at him. He looked away from you, up to the sky.

"You weren't even looking,"

"i must admit, i have long struggled to see any beauty in my realm." He relaxed his whole weight onto his forearms. "i see only darkness and cold. shadows of what the summer realm has."

Your eyes were getting heavy. "If it was hot, you could never have given me your cloak. And if it was bright, I could not see the stars."

Nightmare hummed. His hand shifted, as if to move toward yours, but instead he knitted his fingers together.

"perhaps we should make a deal."

You turned, shooting a withering look up at him. "Nothing binding."

He grinned. It was hard to believe that face belonged to the very man that had unhorsed a dozen knights to win your hand. "yes, yes, nothing binding, i swear. a human sort of deal."

"Hm. Go on, then."

"you remain here, at the palace. you live as you wish to, under my complete protection." He played with a silver ring on his index finger. "and in return... you will tell me when you find my realm beautiful. metaphorically lend me your eyes. perhaps then, i'll finally start to see what you like so much about all this snow and stone."

Ah, you couldn't help but smile. "Alright, I agree to that. You'll realise it's far, far more than 'snow and stone'."

He chuckled. "i hope so."

"We'll start with this. I find the aurora very, very beautiful." You looked back up to it. "Look at the shapes. The patterns. But just... look at the colours. Aren't they breathtaking?"

Nightmare settled in beside you, his upper arm brushing your shoulder.

...

"... i think i'm starting to see it." He murmured.

You could tell, from the direction of his voice, that he was still looking at you.

[hypnoneghoul]

Hyp! You said, so you shall receive! Ofcourse only if you want to do something with it but this lil shit has been rattling around my racoon brain for a bit. So, for you 🤲

Rain has the most delicate wrist’s. They’re not even the smallest in the pack, Aurora for example has teeny tiny, fingers overlap, kinda wrist’s.

No Rain’s are a contradiction of themselves, delicate and soft looking like precious porcelain but there’s strength in there too, there has to be because the bass is heavy.

His Ulna is very prominent and after he’s been playing for a few hours there’s a vein that curves around it, cradling the bone.

It’s also a terribly erogenous spot for him, Dew would know. He’s spent a hours staring, stroking his fingers over the delicate joints, imagining how he’d make Rain into a weepy little mess begging Dew to just do something, stop teasing.

Rains wrists drive Dew absolutely feral and Rain knows it.

Or something like that, idk. 🤷🏻‍♂️

this made my brain go empty for weeks but here i am and i bring food. loosely inspired by @miasmaghoul's fic on dewther watching the ghovie, hope u don't mind

does not contain any rhrn spoilers!!!

“Should’ve made you take the jacket off sooner,” Dewdrop whispers right into his ear with another slow stroke over delicate skin.

It’s stretched so thin over the bones of Rain’s wrist, keeping all the tendons and veins not hidden, but veiled nonetheless.

The water ghoul grits his teeth and digs his claws further into his own thigh. Well, not claws, considering he’s got them glamored—they’re surrounded by tens of unsuspecting humans, after all—but his blunt, perfectly trimmed nails. The same ones that are still flashing on the big screen right before them from time to time.

“I’d get to see those pretty wrists even more.”

Rain can do nothing but keep his head straight and his eyes glued to the screen. He should’ve known. He should’ve known his little mate would go absolutely feral seeing not just him in general in the cinema, but the close-ups of his hands. His wrists.

Why the delicate bones wrapped in fair skin were Dewdrop’s undoing, nobody’s ever learned, even though nobody could deny that every single part of Rain’s body is absolutely perfect. He carries the precisely carved out and yet so natural beauty of renaissance statues. For some reason, the fire ghoul’s favorite part of him is one of the unassuming ones and because of this his mate’s own body was conditioned to betray him every single time a reverent fingertip would be placed over that spot.

“Dew, you can’t–” Rain mutters when the music is loud enough to cover up his cracking voice. There’s nothing more he wants right now than for Dewdrop to go on and work him up and up until he tips over the edge, but they can't, they're in public. And the water ghoul knows he won’t be able to control himself if his mate carries on his teasing.

“Sure I can,” Dewdrop turns to smile at him and if Rain didn’t know better he’d call it genuine, sweet, innocent. The fire ghoul is all but that.

Dewdrop lets his glamor slip the tiniest bit, just enough for one of his nails to return to its natural state. He scrapes it over the middle one of Rain’s flexors, pressing it down just enough to leave a straight red line following the tendon. His skin is so delicate, it takes barely anything to leave a mark.

The thought makes the fire ghoul let out a growl.

Rain whines pathetically like a kicked puppy and throws his head back against the top of the cushioned cinema seat. Another clip focused solely on his own fretting hand flashes on the screen and the water ghoul wants to scream.

Instead he throws his free hand over his crotch, pressing down onto the steadily growing bulge to take some of the edge off. It doesn’t escape Dewdrop’s attention—just as the smell of the fire ghoul’s cunt in arousal doesn’t escape Rain’s.

He leans into his ear once again.

“It’s actually a wonder you’ve never tried putting your whole hand into me,” Dewdrop whispers, moving his claw up Rain’s forearm as he shakes in his seat. “We should try that later. Wanna see your wrist buried inside me while my slick is dripping down this pretty veiny forearm all the way to your elbow.”

The next noise the water ghoul lets out makes the entire auditorium turn their heads.

[miasmaghoul]

Any HCs about ghoul Halloween costumes??

OH YES HERE THEY ARE

Swiss is the one who insists on the costumes. Used to be that the abbey would have their usual Hallow's Eve bash, and that was that. Once Swiss discovered the concept of costumes on tour, though, and the idea absolutely tickled him. So now, the ghouls have their own gathering.

Swiss goes all out every year. This time, he's a picture perfect representation of Dr. Frank-n-furter. The hair, the heels, the lingerie - all of it. Even shaved his mustache so he could get the makeup just right; Dew and Aurora are FURIOUS. Swiss does a full on performance of Sweet Transvestite that brings down the house (aka Mountain claps and Rain records it to make gifs for the ghroupchat.)

Speaking of Rain, he usually doesn't put a whole lot of effort into his costumes. He doesn't want to detract from his natural beauty. This year he's been especially lazy, choosing simply to drop enough of his glamour for his skin to be the most stunning shade of shimmering blue. Speckled with scales, rippling fins along his limbs and back, strong tail swishing languidly behind him. Black eyes and pearly fangs. Perfectly unearthly.

But where Rain is lazy, Aeon puts in Maximum Effort. He got Cumulus and Mountsan's help in hand stitching a period-accurate Dracula costume. Frilly sleeves, tight pants, a vest that threatens to crush the life out of him. The boots he wears nearly reach his knees, borrowed from Cirrus' closet. The fangs are his own, specifically unglamoured so only his canines appear elongated. He floats around the party with a cloak billowing behind him for extra drama, and Dew tells him he looks like a gayer Lestat.

Dew, meanwhile, isn't usually one for costumes. Prefers wearing his civvies and taking it easy, saying he's dressed as a metalhead if anyone asks. This year, though, Swiss had dared him into something a bit more...challenging. Never one to back down, Dew accepted before Swiss had even brought out the outfit, and as he stands behind the snack table he has Regrets. He's in a blood red bodycon dress, one that doesn't even reach the middle of his thighs. A strapless number that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. The lingerie beneath it had been it's own struggle; a lacy black strapless bra stuffed with socks, black satin panties covering his tucked-back cock, meticulously torn fishnets. He's trying not to move too much, the four-inch heels he's been shoved into more of a hazard than anything else. Dew wishes he wasn't so jealous of how easily Swiss walks in his own pair. His hair and makeup are done too, golden locks pulled into an intricate updo and lips red as his dress. It exposes the long line of his neck, and it's work to keep Aeon's fangs away from his throat.

The real work for Dew, though, comes when Aether strolls in from an impromptu shift in the infirmary. Still dressed in his smart slacks, pale purple button down and slightly too tight white coat. A stethoscope looped around his neck and a pair of silver-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. Dew really has to fight not to pop the world's most obvious boner while he talks about something with Mountain that he's long since lost track of.

Mountain, for the record, has been spending the last ten minutes or so staring at Rain, so he's not all that bothered. His own costume is similar to Rain's, but as opposed to "I'm a water ghoul" Mountain tells everyone he's Poison Ivy. Magickal plants cover him from tits to toes, creeping vines hugging him like a second skin. There are flowers dispersed throughout, bursts of color in the vibrant green, and a braided crown of something definitely poisonous settled between his antlers. Aurora keeps sneaking blossoms for herself, and she knows Mountain won't notice.

She couldn't NOT go as Princess Aurora. It was too perfect to pass up! Complete with flowing blonde hair, a perfectly fitted pink gown that color shifts to blue in the right light, and a little golden crown. She floats around the room on weightless feet, helped along by just enough air magick to make her look angelic and ethereal. The flowers she squirrels away from Mountain's bounty get handed out to her dance partners - Cirrus has the most so far.

Cirrus, who has gone low-effort but in an effective way. She's in her old Era IV uniform, black fabric settling over her curves like it belongs there. Severe in a way that demands attention. She's wearing a mask, but not the one that usually comes with this outfit. No shiny silver or stylized curls. This mask is simple, white, curved and molded over her right eye, cheek and part of her forehead. She spends the early part of the evening at the common room piano, playing the overture from Phantom of the Opera so the others will stop asking what she is.

Sunshine is a clown, but in like a clown-core way. Baggy clothes in mismatched colors and patterns, white face paint with exaggerated red lips and blue triangles around her eyes. She has a whole host of silly little party tricks up her sleeve too; the look of disdain she gets from Rain when she soaks him with the flower on her lapel is absolutely worth whatever he'll to do her later.

Cumulus and Ifrit end up committing a bit of a costume faux pas - they both arrive dressed as Elvira. Skintight black gown with plunging neckline? Check. Massive black wig? Check. Dagger-like nails? Check. They share a good natured laugh before they find themselves being ogled into oblivion by Aeon, who can't decide whose tits he'd rather fuck.

Copia is a sheet ghost.

[silverloreley]

Thoughts about Descendants: Rise of Red

I saw Rise of Red.

It was a mess and, as I expected, it blew up the lore of the whole franchise, so I'm going to consider it an AU of sorts from now on, or out of the original canon because there is no way to make everything work together.

Besides, it feels very rushed, especially the ending, it comes far too soon, and even if it's basically certain there will be a sequel or two, it still doesn't work on so many levels.

That said, it was a funny nice little thing, the songs are catchy (Red and Life is Sweeter are pretty great) and if it was for a different franchise it'd be nice and fine.

But it isn't. This is set in Descendants's world and that's where a good bit of the issues arise.

This is going to be long.

First of all, we already had enough problems with timelines as it was, but we kind of solved the issue with different theories (merged universes, different developments due to segregation, they were different but the unification brought a super quick collective development... it all depends on what line of thinking you prefer) the only one that never worked in the first place was that everyone was the same age and went to school together, Heroes and Villains. It simply doesn't add up, most of the Villains are supposed to be much older and most certainly didn't live along Heroes peacefully. But RoR went exactly there?!

And I see the appeal of it all, sure, but Maleficent should at least be older than Aurora by the simple grace of having been the one to curse baby Aurora at her christening so Maleficent being the same age as Cinderella, and Aurora by proxy since Chad and Audrey are the same age too we can assume Aurora and Ella are around the same age, makes no damn sense. Hades is a similar issue, but that one can be solved, let's say he was too bored in the Underworld (or was trying to escape punishment for his coup and was depowered by Zeus) and decided to take a younger appearance and mingle with mortals (ahem, with Maleficent in particular, I do love the pair, okay?), Greek gods did that in the myths, I can accept that.

On the same line, Aladdin and Jasmine being there puts them in a spot that is just too strange. Unless their whole plot already happened and the Sultan agreed to ship them both to school before they got married? Idk, some things can be fixed, some not, Aladdin and Jasmine probably can. The "call us jaladdin" can't, I draw the line here.

What can't be fixed in the slightest is Cinderella's story. I mean, I have seen many movies that set Cinderella's story in modern times, they're fine, for the most part, but in this case, a huge bit of the original plot just disappears, and it's the search Charming has to do to find a girl he met at the ball and only there through a single glass shoe that a Fairy Godmother made for her. Charming knows Ella already here, he doesn't have to look all over the kingdom to find the girl with glass shoes?! And since we're told the glass shoes are important for Ella and Charming when the gift the new shoes to Chloe, you can't tell me they aren't relevant.

AND Fairy Godmother, here Fay, being the same age too, if not younger, and unable to correctly do magic is a bit I have beef with too, FG was supposed to be friends with Ella's mother, but she's too young here! And clearly unable to perform magic as she should. Let's use the "fairies grow slower" explanation here, so Fay is much older than she looks, it's fine, we can even use the same for Maleficent too, just for the bit. I have no idea why would either of them go to Merlin's school for teenagers if they are not so, but let's just say it's because no one can teach them as well as Merlin can and let's call it a day. The problem Fay isn't able to correctly perform spells is a huge issue also because we're explicitly told in Descendants she had a "motherly smile" when she helped Cinderella and FG didn't correct that, she even got upset when Maleficent talked about hamsters and eggplants instead of mice and pumpkins when the carriage was discussed so it's pretty much established that FG was the one to help Ella, it couldn't have been anyone else.

Let's talk about the great absentees while we're at it, shall we? Aka, the makers of Auradon, Belle and Adam. Where are they? Is Adam cursed at this point and Belle doesn't go to school? Like in Beastly (great book btw, not so much the movie tho...)? I mean, everyone else is missing too, if we want to get technical, but the problem is that Merlin school's existence undermines a good chunk of Auradon's lore as we know it.

(After I started writing this post I came across the very disturbing info they almost put Beast in the plot of RoR, as a jock kid who could switch between beast and boy basically at will, which is not how a curse that leaves a boy traumatized for life to the point he decides to ban magic as soon as he becomes king should work, so his presence would have been much worse than his absence. In fact, I think it's for the better he didn't appear at all)

We speculated and we were sort of told by the extra books that the reason Auradon united and the Isle was created was because of a "Villain takeover" for which a rebellion was necessary (exact words we find in the guide), so there was a war and all, do we have to assume everything happened after the ones we saw in RoR left school? Since we have added the info Wonderland didn't want to join Auradon, hence the seal of the Rabbit Hole, what side did Bridget stand on during the war? Did she already have the authority to call the shots? When did it all happen?! How do you go from going all to school together to rise up in arms?

On a similar note, as funny as it can be the idea a coup can't start from a school so Ben is very relaxed when told, I've been informed by people who know this kind of stuff that a coup can, indeed begin from any place, as long as there are enough important people/resources where it all starts. As we know, Chad was considered second-in-line after Ben (he says so in D2), although I guess this changed in the years after the first 3 movies (possibly because Chloe was deemed more fit to rule?), so the Charming family is important enough that the Queen of Hearts seizing Auradon Prep with her whole army can be considered a successful coup, even more so in absence of the actual High King and Queen from the country. If we add many royals and their kids were there, as well as Fairy Godmother and Uma (yes, Uma became very important for Auradon, you can't change my mind), it is, most definitely a very real coup.

One thing I saw around is that it's likely Red and Chloe solved nothing or made things worse for Bridget and I sort of agree only in part. People tend to underestimate how much traumatic events can affect people, especially people as sweet as Bridget seemed to be, even more so when she didn't have any friends but Ella (by her own admission) and Ella was too busy with her own happiness to help her friend who got hurt, so yes, that single prank could have changed her completely. Also, I believe, after she went dark, the Queen of Hearts killed Ulyana.

I suppose we're going to find out what did Red and Chloe messed up for real in the next movie, I tend to think that either Red realizes she doesn't like bubbly Bridget as a mom that much because she's too kind and it makes her a rather bad queen, not a dictator but not capable of making the right decisions either OR something else vital in the franchise was blown up, like Ulyana being still alive (yes I totally stand that the Queen of Heart killed her, but if she didn't it means there's a problem on the loose).

Another thing is the freezing spell in the cookbook. Some say that its existence should have blocked Ulyana's plot all the same and Chloe and Red's intervention actually changed nothing, but I disagree.

Assuming it would have worked all the same on Ulyana in the original timeline, we could suppose that she didn't open the book inside Merlin's study, but simply the gang took the book and left before Merlin could arrive, so one of the others (Maleficent, Morgie and Hades all had magic) could have unfreezed her, then she could have found someone clueless to open the book for her (Ella in exchange for a chance to attend the ball, so Ulyana was her actual-but-evil-FG? a random extra who the gang brought specifically for the goal? Bridget herself, naive as she was, they left the book there and she opened it sealing her own fate?), so the prank would have happened, the main change was that R&C activated the security system much earlier and kept the gang in the room longer, so Merlin got around to catch them and give them detention this time around, that part works.

Now, this is all I have for now, but I may add another post and reply to the comments to this one, so go wild!

[ghoul-slime]

Ghouls & Their Favorite Horror Movies (1980s edition)

In honor of Halloween being just a few days away (!!!) have some thoughts about the ghouls and their favorite horror movies. Narrowed down to the 1980s because that's probably my favorite decade for horror (shoutout to the 70s though).

Dew: City of the Living Dead, The Evil Dead, Pieces, Cannibal Holocaust

Resident horror snob and ultimate gorehound. The bloodier, sleazier, and more fucked up the better. Huge fan of the Italian horror directors, especially “Godfather of Gore” and king of onscreen eyeball trauma Lucio Fulci. City of the Living Dead (aka The Gates of Hell) is his favorite, it’s gory, blasphemous, and just obscure enough for him to feel smug when nobody else has heard of it. The biggest horror fan of the group, he’s seen it all and is always on the hunt for something weird and new that he hasn’t seen yet (a difficult task). Introduced pretty much all of the other ghouls to their favorite horror movies.

Aether: Return of the Living Dead, Re-Animator, Night of the Creeps, Killer Klowns from Outer Space

Lover of all the best 80s horror comedies. Silly and fun without being too intense or mean-spirited. The more over the top the better. Aether movie nights are always the most fun. Loves Return of the Living Dead because of the awesome punk rock soundtrack and 80s punk aesthetic. Secretly loves horror comedies the best because he gets to see Dew laughing the whole time. He and Dew are the most annoying about quoting movies back and forth to each other nonstop.

Mountain: The Thing, They Live, Aliens, From Beyond

Loves his horror with a side of sci-fi. Major John Carpenter and Stuart Gordon fan (who isn’t). Also a huge fan of sci-fi horror with amazing practical effects and The Thing is the king of them all (he loves the original too, for the plant-man monster of course). 

Swiss: Hellraiser, Videodrome, Society, Street Trash

Body horror enthusiast. If it's slimy, horny, and taboo then he’s all about it. Unsurprisingly the biggest Cronenberg fan of the bunch. Huge fan of the Hellraiser series, what with all the leather and the chains and the flesh. Will also sit you down and force you to watch Society if you’ve never seen it (you will thank him later).

Phantom: The Monster Squad, Fright Night, The Lost Boys, Near Dark

Of course it’s gotta be The Monster Squad. Phantom loves the classic Universal Monsters and Monster Squad has them all, wrapped up in a super fun 80s horror comedy with great writing and memorable characters. Will undoubtedly yell WOLFMAN’S GOT NARDS at the most inopportune times. Loves vampire movies the most and secretly thinks of his pack a little bit like the group of vampires in Near Dark.

Aurora: Night of the Comet, Slumber Party Massacre, Phenomena, Sleepaway Camp 2

GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS. Loves seeing pretty women absolutely kick ass onscreen. And any horror movie with a female villain will almost always become a favorite. Loves Night of the Comet because why shouldn’t a couple of valley girl cheerleaders get to enjoy a mall shopping spree while also mowing down hordes of comet zombies with machine guns?

Cirrus: Possession, Altered States, The Shining, the Ninth Configuration

Queen of psychological horror. Her picks usually toe the line between horror and other genres. Cirrus movie nights almost always have to come with a “palate cleanser” movie right after (usually a Cumulus or Aether pick). Dew secretly thinks she has the coolest taste of the bunch.

Cumulus: Hollywood Chainsaw Hookers, Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama, Blood Diner, TerrorVision

80s horror comedies (horny version). Like Aether, Cumulus loves horror comedies. But for her, the sexier and more ridiculous the better. Always thinks a movie would do better with more boobs and full-frontal. Vocal advocate for more male nudity in movies. Linnea Quigley is her horror idol.

Sunshine: Slumber Party Massacre 2, Black Roses, Trick or Treat, Slaughterhouse Rock

Number one champion of the rock & roll horror subgenre. Horror and rock music were both public enemy number one during the Satanic Panic of the 80s, and Sunny loves movies that lean into it. Slumber Party Massacre 2 is the most fun with the leather-clad rockabilly slasher facing off against members of an all-girl rock group with his massive (unmistakably phallic) electric guitar-drill.

Rain: Jaws 3, Humanoids from the Deep, The Fog, The Abyss

Absolutely nobody is shocked to discover Rain is a fan of underwater/nautical horror. He doesn’t even care if a movie is “good” as long as it’s wet and full of weird monsters or creatures. Avid defender of Jaws 3 (it has dolphins, hello). His taste is all over the place quality-wise, from b-movie creature features like Humanoids, to the cozy coastal ambiance of the Fog. As the only ghoul who can breathe underwater, he loves to watch others squirm during the breathing fluid scene in the Abyss.

[mando-abs]

I just need y’all to know that I met Din Djarin at Disney World over a week ago.

Y’all

I was not prepared for how polite and sweet he was. Like, y’all don’t undertsand. I’m STILL thinking about that. Do NOT fall for his tough guy persona he puts up for his job. That man is without a doubt all soft under that armor.

I’ll put my experience under the cut but I do want to say many thanks to the wonderful friend of Din Djarin that greeted me that day. Cast members rock and he was no exception.

The Technical Stuff:

Okay, so beforehand, I searched online when was the best to see him and how since Din doesn’t have a set meet and greet in the parks. Din and Grogu typically come out of a literal hole in the wall on the far end of the marketplace (coming in the marketplace from the First Order side of the land) and they make their way through the market. Also, since this is a different meet and greet, how to approach them is different than usual meets. Din chooses who to interact with, and it’s never a guarantee if you will get picked. The best chance of getting picked??? Get there early. On the day I visited, I checked the My Disney Experience App to see they made appearances on the hour from official opening (so like 8:30 AM) until 3:00 PM. (And Disney is always punctual so you can guarantee that)

If you read all of that and were thinking “this is way too tedious to see one of the most popular characters” you would be correct. But I don’t make the rules, and I was very desperate to meet him.

Before Meeting The Mandalorian:

At about 10 minutes before he was scheduled to arrive, I was met by a lovely young lady who was already waiting for her man (I know I fellow Din lover when I see one). She confirmed the information I mentioned above because my family just didn’t believe me when I said I knew what I was doing. Because of this, I sat just behind her in hopes that she got picked first because she called first dibs lol.

After 10 minutes, Din came strutting out with Grogu in sling and handlers in tow. At this point, I was loosing hold of my facial expressions. I’m pretty sure I looked like

I don’t think I’d been that excited to meet a character at Disney since Aurora and Mulan when I was a little girl.

The handlers made sure there was enough space for Din and Grogu as suddenly, in the short span of time it took for Din to walk up, there was a small crowd forming and people calling over that the Mandalorian had arrived. The lady who arrived before me was called up first and she had her moment with Din and Grogu. Very happy for her. And then there was another before me. And then it was my turn :0)

The Actual Meet:

When I stood beside Din Djarin he immediately commented on my Mandalorian shirt (yes I wore a Din focus shirt in hopes I’d get picked, don’t look at me). He motioned to my shirt and said (all of this is approximate btw) “Your allegiance is appreciated.” And I want to say he shook my hand? He was shaking a lot of hands. Like I said, he was polite! Anyways I was like, “Of course!” And then I went into a short spiel about how his and Grogu’s stories have traveled across the stars and how much they meant to me (super cheesy I know, but let me have my moment). But y’all. His response??? The softest, “Thanks☺️”

I almost died. Melted on the spot. And his body language was kinda like “aw shucks ☺️☺️☺️” (as close as a mandalorian can get to that). The worms in my brain will hold onto that one for a while.

Finally we took a picture, and when all was said and done, he turned to me, nodded, and said the ever famous line, “This is the way.”

Grogu:

Grogu was not in the picture during this interaction. 😂😂😂 I’m ashamed to say that I totally forgot about him. He was very quiet!!! And he was on the other side and I wasn’t about to stare past a man’s hip. I like to think he was in his own little baby world during the whole meet.

[capricorn-0mnikorn]

In the spirit of "Reblog Your Own Work," here's a story I wrote almost two years ago, that I'm really proud of. I originally posted it in 5 parts, so to shake things up a bit, here it is all in 1 part. It's a retelling of the Grimm Brothers fairy tale "The Frog King," this time with aroace and disability representation, and the squicky elements of child marriage taken out.

Under the Linden Tree

Once upon a time, there lived a king who was widowed, and remarried. His first wife had been a true princess of a wealthy kingdom, and the daughters they had together, Zephyra and Aurora, were as lovely as a summer breeze and the dawn. His living wife had only became queen through marriage to him. But she was exceedingly lovely, and gracious, and kind. And because she was the only daughter in a house full of sons, the king thought surely she would deliver him a son of her own. Instead, he got a third daughter, whom they named Galantha.

As she grew, Galantha became even more beautiful and gracious, until, as she approached womanhood, she began to outshine even her mother. Her elder sisters, once happy playmates, now teased her, and reminded her, whenever they had the chance, that her lineage would never be as great as theirs, and that she was last in line to be married, and most likely to a baron, if not a common paddler.

Galantha would sigh, and say she knew this. She would also turn away and hide her smile. She had little interest in being wooed. And being the mother of a future king just seemed like an extra weight upon her head that she would rather do without.

But Fate and Nature had little care for her secret desires. Every day, she could feel the eyes of the courtiers watching her. Their murmurs of praise for her beauty and grace seemed like the constant drone of crickets in her ears. On festival days and market days, minstrels could be heard singing songs about how the sun, itself, was jealous of her beauty.

Whenever she could, Galantha escaped to her favorite place in the royal forest, where the Tree of Oaths stood: a linden tree with a trunk wider than the span of her arms, with leaves broader than her palm, and a well between the fork of its roots, formed from a thousand years of rain and dew dripping from the leaves above. According to the law, it was forbidden to tell a lie within its shade; according to legend, it was impossible. Its crown had spread wide enough to preside over murderers' trials, and lovers' weddings, since this kingdom had been the size of a village. And these were recorded with carvings in its bark, some so old that even the alphabets they were written in had been forgotten.

She would spend whole days here, tossing and juggling her golden ball (her favorite plaything), entranced by how it glinted in the dim light.

But the king started grumbling that she was neglecting her royal duties, that she was growing too old to spend her days amusing herself with a mere child's plaything.

Her mother would lay her fingertips on his arm, smile in that way she had, and, almost imperceptibly, shake her head.

Then, the king would sigh, and say that he would permit her private walks, for now. But soon, she'd have to grow up, and perform her duties for the court.

It was after one such scolding, when Galantha distracted by worries, that the ball slipped from her fingers. It sank into the well before her cry of dismay had escaped her lips.

She sat mourning her loss, and wondering if her father would ever let her go out into the forest alone again, when the biggest frog she'd ever seen popped its head out of the water.

"What would you grant me," the frog asked, in a perfectly clear human voice, "if I returned your golden ball?"

Galantha stammered a few syllables before she regained her composure. "Forgive me," she said, practicing her diplomacy as her father never imagined, "but you must understand how it would me unwise of me to negotiate with a complete stranger."

The frog blinked in the slow, deliberate, way that frogs had, and the princess took that as acknowledgment.

"Three questions, then," she said, "I think is fair."

The frog blinked again.

"First question: Are you a frog enchanted with the gift of human speech," she asked, "or are you a man trapped in the form of a frog?"

The frog responded with a long, rolling, croak. And then, as if startled by the sound of his own voice, disappeared beneath the surface of the water.

The princess sighed. Maybe it was true that the frog could not lie to her, here, but neither the legends nor the law said anything about answering her in her own language. When the surface of the water stilled, and the frog had not yet returned, she thought the interview over, and started for home.

She had not gone three steps, however, when she heard a small croak from behind her, sounding, for all the world, like an embarrassed cough.

So—a man, she thought.

She smoothed the smile off her expression and returned to the well's edge.

"Second question: is this form one of your own choosing?"

"No."

"Final question: Was this form imposed upon you as punishment for a crime, or the breaking of an oath?"

The frog (or rather, man) was silent. She was nearly ready to take that as a refusal to answer, and to walk away, without his help.

But then, the frog took a deep breath, and let out an uncertain "No." Then sighed wearily, in a way that was unmistakably human.

She smiled. "All right, then," she said, "I accept your offer. I will grant you anything you wish that's mine to give, short of my body, or my will."

"Then my wish is to pass between the walls where you have tread," he said.

She was taken aback. "That's all?"

"That is all I ask from you, Your Highness," the frog replied.

She nodded. "That price is certainly a fair one," she answered. "And I'll grant it freely, once you return with my treasure."

The frog disappeared below the water.

The surface grew still.

There was no sign that any living thing moved beneath. Her gold ball was heavy, she thought, and even very large frogs must have limited strength. So, with a sigh, she started the long walk home.

But soon, there was a "plip, plop, plip" on the path behind her. She turned around. The frog hopped after her, carrying her treasure in his mouth.

She gasped, and managed to not to laugh.

The frog dropped the ball at her feet. "You promised."

Galantha admitted that she had, and thanked him. As she lowered herself to pick him up, she was nearly overcome by a horrid feeling, as if her body, itself, were recoiling in disgust.

It took all her strength to resist hurling the frog to the ground. Still, Galantha strode home with the frog under her arm and the golden ball in her hand. She passed through the gate of her palace courtyard with her chin held high, barely acknowledging the guards.

And at that moment, the strange sensation of disgust faded so much, she hardly noticed it. She made her way to the throne room with a light and playful step.

Her sisters squealed in harmony at the sight of the frog, and hid behind their thrones. Her mother gasped, and looked a bit ill (and for that, Galantha was sorry). Her father was the angriest, rising from his throne, red in the face, and signaling for his guards. He had just opened his mouth to give his orders, when the frog addressed him in the most courteous and proper royal etiquette.

Galantha then broke her family's astonished silence by recalling, in the most flowery language she could imagine, how this wondrous frog had swum to the bottom of that unfathomed well, and retrieved her precious family heirloom, the golden ball.

"All he asked, in return," she concluded, "was to pass between the walls where I have tread. It seemed a small price to pay."

Upon hearing that, the king agreed. He insisted on leading a tour of the palace himself, with his wife and daughters behind in a small parade. He repeated the story the princess had told to each courtier they met, saying that, as a courteous and generous monarch, it was his duty to ensure that the just payment was given to even the lowliest of his subjects, even those as lowly as an ugly frog.

The frog-man under her arm, if he were able to show expression, was very good at keeping his opinion to himself. For her own part, Galantha struggled to hide her embarrassment.

The tour ended in the kitchen, and the king was making a show of his magnanimity toward the servants, sniffing all the dishes as they roasted and bubbled away.

As if struck by a sudden thought, he turned to the frog tucked under the princess's arm, and said, with a grand sweep of his arm: "It would be a great honor to me, Sir Frog, if you would stay, and be my daughter's special guest at dinner, tonight."

Her two elder sisters, bringing up the rear of their little parade, giggled behind their hands.

The frog shifted his weight under her arm and opened his mouth as if to speak. But in the end, said nothing.

Galantha was ready to object on his behalf, and her own. But her father looked her in the eye with a frown, daring her to disobey his wishes a second time that day.

She dropped her gaze to the floor. "Yes. Of course it would be my honor. Please, be my guest."

No sooner were those words out of her mouth than the strange, horrid, feeling strengthened once more, spreading from the frog like ink from a tipped bottle. She fought to keep from hurling him to the floor that very instant.

At dinner, an extra golden chair was put to Galantha's right, and on it was placed a fine silk cushion. The princess set the frog on the cushion as graciously as she could, and then she took a portion of each food on her plate, put it in a fine china saucer, and set the saucer on the cushion beside her guest.

But the frog objected: "That well was very deep and cold," he said, "and that golden ball was so heavy. If it weren't for me, your treasure would be lost forever. I should sit beside you, and eat from your own plate."

The princess was about to object that this was more than she had promised him.

But before she could say anything, her father the king replied: "Quite right. Quite right. A princess must always be a generous hostess."

So Galantha lifted the frog from the chair to the table, while Zephyra and Aurora squirmed and made faces.

In between bites, the frog and the king discussed political matters, and the state of diplomacy between the various neighboring kingdoms.

Galantha's mind raced, trying to figure out who this might be. She tried to change the subject, but her father was thoroughly charmed. The queen, when she caught her daughter's eye, smiled and shook her head in the same disapproving manner that she had with the king, and Galantha found that, she, too, could not resist her mother's wishes.

As the evening's chatter melted into yawns, the king said that since it was now dark, and it was a long way to the forest, their guest should spend the night.

Galantha agreed. and picked the frog up into the crook of her arm, preparing to carry her guest to the fountain the center of the royal courtyard, where he would be comfortable in the cool and damp.

But instead, the king said: "Of course, as my daughter's honored guest, you are welcome to sleep in her chambers."

So she was obligated to carry the frog up to her rooms. With every step, the strange feeling in her body intensified. Still, she walked to her rooms with as much courtesy as she could muster, filled the basin on the washstand with fresh water for the frog, and set him down.

"Please look away," she said, "as I change for bed."

The frog dipped his head, and quietly crawled behind the mirror.

Just as she about to slip under her covers, the frog came out from behind the mirror, and called out to her. "Is this any way to treat an honored guest?" he demanded. "To give your guest a cold, hard place to sleep, and keep the feather bed for yourself? I should like to lie in your bed, and be as warm as you are."

And with that, the princess's last bit of patience finally snapped. "If you want my bed, Sir Frog," she said, "you shall have it!" She picked him up in both hands, and, giving in to every shiver of revulsion, hurled him against the wall.

What happened next was such a shock, she spun on her heel as though pulling her hand from a fire: a full-grown man in her bed, alive, perfect as an artist's ideal, and naked as a frog.

"You're a prince?"

"I was a king, once."

She hugged herself, willing her heart to slow. "And the spell is broken now?"

He did not answer 'Yes.'

"I must," he said at last, "receive recompense for service rendered to a human, pass between walls where a human has trod, share a meal off a human's dish, and--" he took a breath, "share a human's bed from midnight 'til first cock's crow."

As if to punctuate his point, the hall clock chimed the eleventh hour's last quarter.

"You were afraid I'd say no, I suppose," she said, "if you'd told me this, when first I asked."

"I asked for everything I wanted from you."

"And I must only 'share' the bed?"

"Only that."

"Even so, you understand: Because of my station, this will count as a betrothal between us?"

The bed creaked as he shifted his weight. "Yes," he said, finally.

"And if I gave you the bed outright, and slept on the floor?"

She heard a catch in his breath that sent a shiver down her spine. "Please," he said.

"All right, then. Keep your face to the wall and your hands to yourself, or we will find out what happens."

When she was certain that he was faced toward the wall, under the covers, she lay down over them. She could feel him at her back, that strange, horrid feeling still there, though fainter, now, like the heat from a single candle. At some point, she must have fallen asleep, because she had the distinct sensation of waking up before the sun.

When, at last, she was released by the sound of the cock's crow, she rose quietly, careful not to wake the man sleeping behind her, and washed her face and hands.

The cock crowed a second time.

There was a silent flash of light in the corner of her eye. Glancing up, she saw a full set of clothes laid out across the dowry chest at the foot of her bed. The coat was of red velvet, with gold buttons, and there was a broad purple sash, embroidered with heraldric designs she did not recognize.

The princess stepped into the foyer of her bedchamber to dress in private.

At least it looked like a king's outfit, she thought, even though the stranger in her bed seemed far too young. But some, she reminded herself, inherit their throne before they're old enough to pull up their own stockings.

The cock crowed a third time.

She heard him yawn, the bed creak as he rose, and the unfamiliar rhythm of his bare feet on the floor.

She brushed and braided her hair as she listened to the rustling of cloth as he dressed himself.

When she heard that his boots were on, she took a deep breath, counted slowly to five, and stepped back into the main apartment of her chambers.

She'd prepared herself, but seeing him was still a shock. She looked away almost as quickly as she had the night before, and dropped into a curtsy. "Good morning, Your Majesty," she said, feeling the blush spread across her cheeks. "Please forgive me, for--"

His chuckle cut her off, and she glanced up. A smile spread from the corner of his eye to his lips.

"Forgive thee?" The smile faded, but his expression remained soft. "I should thank thee, instead." He looked down at his hands and flexed his fingers. "Thou saved my life."

"I-- what?"

"Though it feels odd, having so much bone, again," he said, instead of answering her directly, running one hand down his side, over his ribs. "Did I hear correctly, last night," he asked, changing the subject, "that thy name is 'Galantha?'"

"Indeed, Your Majesty," she said.

His brows knitted for a split second. "'Milk Flower?' 'Snowdrop?' Princess Snowdrop?" He seemed on the verge of laughing, but managed to swallow it down.

"That would have been Sire's choice," she answered, "but my mother overruled him, Your Majesty."

He cocked his head to one side. "Please. Don't let me have the advantage of thee. I am named 'Cinnabar'."

She studied his face. There was nothing about him that suggested the fiery hues of that dangerous stone. His complexion was as pale as someone who had spent years in the shadows. His eyes were the dark brown of late summer honey. And his hair was so black, like a raven's feathers, that it glinted blue.

"Cinnabar?" she repeated.

He chuckled, and seemed to be about to say something more, when there was a light, familiar, rap on her chamber door.

"Come in, Margarete," she said, without thinking.

Her lady-in-waiting opened the door and poked her head around. "Good morning, Your Highness--" Her eyebrows rose barely a hair, and she (almost invisibly) mouthed: "frog?"

The princess bit her lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity. "Good morning, Margarete. Is breakfast ready?"

"Yes, Your Highness. His Majesty waits on you." She curtsied quickly and backed out the door.

The young king tugged at his sash, smoothing wrinkles that weren't there. "Well," he said, "they're expecting us, though probably not like this." He offered her his arm.

After a moment's hesitation, she took it.

She could sense the servants watching them, in the well-practiced way of not seeming to watch them at all. Halfway to the stairs, Lady Caroline, who had once been her nursery maid, caught Galantha's eye as she passed in the hallway, and smiled softly.

He ended up leaning more on her, on the way down the stairs, than she on him, testing his weight with each step, but managed to hide his uncertainty as they entered the banquet hall.

Her father was standing at the head of the table, red-faced, with clenched fists. He glared at the richly dressed stranger, then at her.

"So, it's true!?" he said, "I wasn't imagining the whispering of servants!"

"Your Majesty," the queen said, laying her fingers on his arm, her voice light, and clear, and cold, as a silver bell, "remember your royal duty to invited guests."

"Invited? Invite-- guests?!"

Cinnabar bowed. "Good morning, Your Majesty," he said. "I hope you had a restful sleep."

Her father sputtered. "I know that voice!"

"I am honored you remember it. And may I say what a pleasure it was to be a guest on your table, last night."

"On? 'On my table'? That thing? Thou!?"

"Yes. That was I."

The king huffed, and, with a sweep of his arm, gestured at the sash that the young king wore. "This bunting and glitter-- are they true emblems of royal office, or are they some player's costume?"

"This sash, along with my scepter, and crown," Cinnabar said, his voice quiet but tense, "is, indeed, an emblem of royal duty and privilege, bestowed upon me according to the laws of my homeland."

The king turned his gaze on Galantha. "And am I to take it, then, that there must now be a wedding?"

She bowed her head. "Yes, Sire."

It wasn't until then that he seemed to notice all his guests waiting for him. He nodded and sat, and signaled for others to join him, adding: "I suppose we'll need another chair."

The young king smiled and nodded at the servant who brought it, as if he had been welcomed to the table with the same generosity as the night before.

Zephyra leaned over and murmured in her ear: "I wish thee the best, truly," she said, with a catch in her voice. "We had some happy times, didn't we?"

Galantha nodded and smiled as best she could through the flurry of quiet congratulations.

She was just beginning to relax when a servant set a large, sweetened, bread between herself and her betrothed, with the knife placed on his side of the platter. It was gilded with a glaze of egg wash and saffron, decorated with a pattern of sliced, toasted almonds, and perfectly sculpted into the shape of a frog, bulbous eyes and all.

He coughed and looked around at the faces of those seated near him.

"Oh, dear!" Aurora said, giggling, and then quickly added: "It's nothing personal, Your Majesty. This is a custom in our country, for good luck, and a fruitful marriage. Even the common people do this, though not so richly."

Galantha wanted to bury her face in her hands. Instead, she nodded. "I didn't think there was time to make one for us."

He laughed. "Oh. All's well, then," he said. He picked up the knife and studied the frog a moment, before slicing it down the middle, from nose to rump, revealing the stuffing of dried fruit, nuts, and candied citron.

Turning the platter so that both halves were equally within her reach, he waited for Galantha to make her choice.

She tried not to think how things might have gone differently, last night, as she put her half on the plate before her.

The young king smiled. He popped the eye from his half of the frog into his mouth, and chuckled.

The elder king was silent and frowning throughout the meal, which was consumed and cleared away with all the haste of a picnic interrupted by rolls of thunder.

Galantha was only granted enough time to change into the gown that had been set aside for her marriage ceremony. And her only wedding gift was a wallet of sewing and spinning tools, along with her mother's blessing bound up in it.

The phrase "Husband and wife" was barely out of the priest's mouth when they heard the rattle and clatter of a carriage outside.

Her new husband nearly sprinted through the chapel door as the carriage slowed to a stop.

It was one of the finest Galantha had ever seen, with gilded eagles on the finials of the top, and scroll work of inlaid gems in twisting, vine-like patterns along the side. The six horses pulling the carriage had silver bells in their bridles, though they, themselves, were the sturdy, piebald, sort that Galantha had seen pulling farmers' plows, rather than the parade horses in whom elegant coat color was prized.

And it was also odd, she thought, that with a carriage so richly appointed, that there was only the coachman as servant-- that there were no footmen attending, to help keep the carriage steady on the highway, to watch out for ruts, or remove obstacles in the road ahead. And she also noted that the gold braiding on the coachman's livery was just a bit frayed, and there were spots in the sleeves of his coat that had been expertly darned, with evident care. But what sort of kingdom was she marrying into, if so much wealth was put into things, but not people?

The coachman alighted, and was in the act of dropping to one knee to honor his master when the young king interrupted him, and pulled him up into an embrace.

"Heinrich? Heinrich!" he exclaimed. "My good man-- it- it's been too long."

Heinrich pulled away-- a little too quickly, Galantha thought. But he was still smiling, and there were tears on his ruddy, weathered, cheeks, dampening the neat white beard on his chin.

He sniffled, still smiling, and squaring his shoulders, turned and bowed to her. "Your Majesty," he said. And he offered his hand to help her up into the carriage.

"Please, Sir," she said, "before we go, there's someone--some place--I need to say 'goodbye' to."

The coachman's mouth tightened into a thin line, and his brow furrowed.

Galantha feared he would refuse.

But her husband spoke up. "I know the place," he said. "It's not far. I'll go with her, and make sure she won't get lost."

The coachman hesitated for just a moment, but then, with a quick bow of his head, said: "Very well, Your Majesty. As you wish."

And with that, her new husband laced his fingers firmly with hers, and strode off toward the path leading to the linden tree. Galantha had to walk in double step to keep up.

As soon as they turned a corner, and his golden carriage was no longer in sight, however, he let go of her hand. He leaned close. "This way, he won't leave without thee," he said.

"Would he do that?" Galantha asked. For a fleeting moment, she imagined running away, but just as quickly dismissed the idea.

"Heinrich's… Something's…" He sighed. "I'm sure he's just eager to get me home."

The path narrowed. He stepped back to walk a few strides behind her, giving her some privacy, but also driving her forward, not giving her a chance to tarry.

He stopped at the edge of the linden tree's canopy, while she walked up to its trunk alone, patting it as though it were a dear friend's shoulder. Then, on an impulse, she took a penknife from her pocket, and carved a 'G' and 'C', back-to-back, into the its bark, along with the date, to join all the ancient inscriptions recorded there.

Then, she cut one of the slender, leafy, branches to take with her. She just could not bear to leave this old friend behind entirely. She dipped her kerchief into the well, and wrapped the wet cloth around the cut end of the branch. Then she hurried back to meet her new husband.

He fairly pulled he along the whole way back, only slowing down as the path widened, to allow her to come up beside him, before quickening his stride again.

No sooner were they back in the carriage than the coachman cracked his whip, and they sped off at an almost unnatural speed, the horses in full gallop before they even had taken three strides at a trot. The landscape outside the windows was nothing but a blur.

"Heinrich!" the young king called, "Must thou drive with such haste?"

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," his servant called back. "But if we do not pass through the Capital's gate by sunset, all is lost."

Galantha looked down at the linden branch and bit her lip. How much had she risked, she wondered, for a mere sentimental token that wouldn't even last the week?

"We did not tarry long," her husband said, above the noises of the carriage. "All's well. All will be well." He put his fingers lightly on her arm to draw her attention, and managed a weak smile. "Heinrich is one of the most sensible men I've known. If he really thought our errand would waste too much time, he wouldn't have let us go."

Still, he seemed as full of worry as she.

"The spell?"

"It's broken. But not all trouble is magic."

Nothing more was said between them. After a while, Galantha realized he'd fallen asleep.

Suddenly weary, she leaned back and closed her eyes.

Memories slipped into nightmare. She was both juggling her golden ball, and trapped inside it: up and down, and back and forth, until she was falling without end, into an icy darkness.

Galantha woke with a start, and for a moment, she feared they'd missed the sunset, before realizing they were driving through a forest, trees on either side blocking out the sun.

He was awake, too, staring out the window.

"May I ask you something, Your Majesty?"

"Please, don't let rank stand between us; call me 'Cinnabar'. Interview, or conversation?" he asked.

"Both, I think."

He gestured toward the linden branch and opened his hand. When she passed it to him, he nodded for her to continue.

"Who cursed you?" she asked.

He sighed. "I don't know if anyone did. Thou asked if it were a punishment for a crime, or broken oath. Until I heard 'no' in my own voice, I'd long wondered the same thing." He seemed about to say more, but just grimaced, as if the thought smelled of something noxious.

"How long?" she asked, after a moment.

"I see no change in my own face. But Heinrich's--. We were—he was my assigned playmate, as a boy."

Galantha pushed down the thought that this made him nearly as old as her father, along with wondering if that mattered. "If no one told you," she asked, instead, "how did you know what would break the spell?"

He shrugged, winced, and rolled his shoulders. "The same way I know to scratch an itch, perhaps. I never thought it could be broken, until thou came to the well. I truly thought passing between the walls where you had walked would be enough."

"But then it wasn't."

"Then it wasn't, nor was the meal."

"And if Father hadn't invited you to dinner?"

"Well, there were so many others I could have asked, once I was inside."

"Whom?"

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Enough!" Annoyance rang through his voice. "We're puzzling over troubles that never came to pass."

"I'm sorry, Your M--"

"Eh?"

"Cinnabar. Forgive me."

"For this? Easily."

Galantha turned and watched the landscape roll past. The sun was high, now, and there were almost no shadows on the ground. The forest was already thinning, unfamiliar mountains visible through the trees. They'd left her homeland while she was sleeping.

Perhaps it was better this way, she thought.

"May I ask thee something?" he asked.

"Certainly, Y-yes." She waited for him to hand back the linden branch before the questions began. But he seemed to forget that it was even in his hand.

"Didst thou mean to kill me, last night?"

"Yes."

"Ha-ha! That was quick."

"Well," Galantha counted off on her fingers. "You wouldn't-- couldn't," she corrected herself, "even tell me if you were man or beast. Father was boasting about things Mother, my sisters, and I aren't allowed to whisper, and your demands were exceeding what I'd promised. For all I knew, you were a wizard, or an assassin in league with one."

"Hm," he acknowledged, nodding.

"And--" she stopped herself.

"'And'? What?"

"It's of no matter."

"It seems to be of a little matter, at least." He swallowed hard. "Dost thou fear me?"

She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Y-Cinnabar," she said. "But touching you-- being near you-- was horrid. It lent strength to my arm. Like, like…"

"A tunic woven from wool and stinging nettles? Only, so tight, that it's under thy skin?"

"Yes!" A chuckle escaped her. "Very!"

"The magic," he said. "I suppose, as the strands loosened their hold on me, they entangled thee."

He was so quiet, Galantha thought he'd fallen back asleep. Then he spoke: "Still, thou tookst pity on me."

She glanced at him before looking back out the window. The forest was behind them completely, now. The midday light made her squint. "You said 'Please.'"

He chuckled. "The magic word."

"You didn't have to. It was in your power, then, to, well--" she cut herself off.

He started to speak, then stopped himself, once, then again, before asking: "Wouldst thou have asked my forgiveness, if I'd been dressed as a common shepherd?"

"Maybe," she said. "But not so quick."

"What?! Wh-?"

"You were fluent in courtly idiom," she explained. "You were at ease dining with a king. That cannot be learned through tutoring. A shepherd's garb would have seemed a bigger deceit than a frog's skin."

He threw back his head and laughed. "If our laws did not forbid it," he said,"I'd appoint thee High Judge."

Galantha almost let herself laugh along with him, when she felt the carriage slow. She noticed hedgerows along road, and other signs that they were entering an inhabited place.

"Heinrich?" her husband called, sitting straighter, and scanning the view, "are we reaching the Capital? I don't recognize--".

"We are only half-way, Your Majesty," the coachman called back. "But our own royal horses have boarded at the inn's stables, so they will be refreshed for the homeward journey."

Soon, they were driving through the city proper. People in the streets stopped what they were doing to stare at the spectacle, as Heinrich navigated through the ever-narrowing streets to the ally at the inn-yard.

Heinrich, taking on the role of footman, alighted from his seat, and hurried into the inn.

A moment or two later, he emerged, leading someone Galantha thought must be the innkeeper.

It was only when Heinrich had come back to the carriage door that her husband looked down at the linden branch in his hand, seemingly aware of it for the first time since Galantha had handed it too him.

"It would be terrible if this were trod upon, or if someone mistook it for kindling," he said. "Would it be well with the if I gave it to Heinrich to look after?"

She managed a smile: "If you think it best, Y-Cinnabar," she said. She turned her face partly away from him, and lowered her veil, as her mother had first taught her, years ago, when she first realized how extraordinarily beautiful her daughter was becoming.

After Heinrich helped them down from the carriage, the young king handed the branch to his coachman, and murmured something in his servant's ear.

Heinrich frowned and shook his head, but he still accepted the linden branch with care. slipping it into the buttonhole on his lapel, to free up his hands, before turning his attention to the horses.

She could see the whites of the poor beasts' eyes, and their coats were twitching as though they were being swarmed by biting flies from head to foot, or as if they were draped in blankets of wool and stinging nettles. It must have been magic, after all, that allowed them to pull the carriage so swiftly, and so safely, over wilderness roads that were little more than ruts in the ground.

She turn to follow her husband and the innkeeper, who led them to a private corner, behind a curtain, where his wife served them a meal of soup and bread, with a smile and a few words of congratulations, before courtseying, and leaving to attend her other patrons.

They ate their meal in silence, not quite comfortably. With each bite, she was aware of the time passing. Should it really be taking this long to hitch up a fresh team of horses to the carriage? Or was it only anxiety that made the time seem to pass so slowly?

Galantha tried to think of pleasantries for conversation, but it was like fumbling for objects in the dark. Several times, she thought he would speak, but in the end, he said nothing, either.

And though he smiled at her whenever their eyes chanced to meet, there was a tension behind his features. Was it regret, or anger, or simple weariness? She couldn't guess, nor keep from wondering.

When Heinrich came, at last, to say that it was time to go, the linden branch was no longer in his buttonhole. And the slightest of smiles passed between master and servant.

Their silence continued in the carriage as they sped over the ground. When they had left her home, early that morning, the shadows were long and blue on the ground, stretching far out behind them. Now the shadows were long and blue again, and stretching out in front of them.

The land was hillier, now, and they rolled up and down like a ship at sea. They were driving ever closer to the mountains that she'd glimpsed through the forest trees. Towns, and farmland, and patches of wilderness sped past her window as if they were fence posts along the road.

Despite it all, it seemed to Galantha that they were standing still. The sun was so low in the sky, now, that whenever the carriage rolled down the slope of a hill, they were cast into shadow. She gripped the edge of the seat, and willed the carriage ever faster.

Her husband patted the back of her hand. "All's well," he said, barely audible above the screeching and rattling of the carriage, "all will be well." He pointed to the view ahead. "Almost home," he assured her.

And there, she noticed, growing ever clearer with each moment, were the walls of a city atop the mountain they were climbing, with flags flying from the watchtowers.

The road was growing steeper, now, and more winding, back and forth. Sometimes, the Capital City was in front of them; sometimes, out her side window, as the road they were traveling snaked its way up the side of the mountain. Miraculously, the sun seemed to slow in its descent toward the horizon, as if it knew that it had to wait for them.

And then, at last, the road leveled out, and the walls of the Capital City was directly before them-- so high that Galantha couldn't see the flags flying from the towers.

Heinrich finally slowed the horses' gallop to a canter, and then to a trot, as the great iron gate in the City's walls rose to admit them.

Trumpets blared a fanfare, welcoming them home, as the last sliver of the sun finally disappeared below the horizon.

And then, all of a sudden, came three, loud, metallic, bangs, louder than the blaring of the trumpets, louder than any of the complaints that the carriage joints and springs had made during their entire journey: a noise like giant watch springs breaking, or three swords being broken over stones, that left her ears ringing.

"Heinrich!" the young king called, "is the carriage-- are we--?"

"The carriage is fine, Your Majesty," he said. "Those were-- those were three iron bands I'd put around my heart."

"Heinrich, why?! Wert thou injured?"

"To keep it from breaking in two for grief, Your Majesty," he answered, "when you were lost to us."

Her husband slumped back in his seat, his shoulders sagging. "Oh, Heinrich." There was a catch in his voice, and Galantha noticed there were tears in his eyes.

Soon though, he sat upright, alert and tense, and, with a touch, drew her attention out the window.

The street was brighter than twilight, lit with torches mounted to balcony railings. A multitude of banners, of several different heraldric designs, were draped from nearly all the windows. Crowds had gathered, as if everyone in the city had left their suppers and come out of doors. Many were carrying weapons. Some had bows, a few of those more richly dressed had muskets on their shoulders, and a few looked to be carrying swords they didn't really know how to use, taken down from the attic, perhaps, or from the wall, where they had been hung in honor of an ancestor. But there was no chatter: no calling back and forth between friends, no traders calling out their wares, no children.

"Heinrich," he called, "is it a tournament, or--?"

"These are no games, Your Majesty," his servant answered, his voice grim.

The young king scanned the scene, his eyes flicking from person to person, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. He took her hand. A look of determination spread across his face, and he squared his shoulders.

As they wound through the streets, they continued to see people of all classes and trades, from beggars, to cobblers, carpenters to councilmen, all lined up and ready to fight each other, with whatever weapons or tools of their trade they had to hand. As the carriage passed by, the crowds shifted around them. Some slipped into alleys, or back behind the doors of their houses. But others walked up alongside the carriage, and behind, until they lead a massive parade all the way to the gate in the wall of the young king's palace garden.

Heinrich stopped the carriage, alighted from his seat, and came down to open the carriage door. "Your country rejoices in your return, Your Majesties," he said.

Her husband took her hand as he helped her down from the carriage. "Welcome home, my wife, my queen, Your Majesty," he said.

These words acted on the crowd like pebbles dropped dropped into water, and the people moved back, to give her room, though Galantha could sense their eyes on her, as they turned to see this stranger their king was bringing home. She was glad they could not see her blushing beneath her veil.

King Cinnabar bowed and smiled to those who bowed and curtsied to him, as he led her through the courtyard garden toward the palace. But he stepped over those who prostrated themselves, as if they were mere impediments in the road.

As her husband walked with her up the steps to the palace's doors, Heinrich followed a step behind his left shoulder, while others in the crowd tended to the horses and carriage.

It wasn't quite as still, inside the palace, as those in fairy tales she'd learned, where everything is frozen in time. She could hear distant footsteps, and distant voices. But compared to her own home, the air felt chill, and stagnant, as if there hadn't been enough people here, moving about, and carrying on with life.

Her husband put his hand on her shoulder. "Galantha, I have a wedding present for you."

She put out her hands, and felt the weight of it, first.

It was a flowerpot of white stoneware, with a decoration painted in a terracotta slip around the edge, of roses and grapevines. And planted there was her linden branch.

"I wanted to pick it out myself," he said, his voice sounding like it was far away-- like it was on the other side of a window, "but Heinrich thought it unwise for me to go through the market dressed like this. So he sent one of the stable boys instead."

Everything felt far away. The stone floor under her feet felt as unsteady as a stack of feather beds. She was so tired.

He guided her to a bench along one of the walls and sat down beside her. "Galantha? Your Majesty?"

She wanted to tell him she heard him. She wanted to say 'Thank you.' But the words disappeared in her throat.

"Your Highness?" he persisted, "Princess?" He brushed aside her veil and whispered in her ear. "Snowdrop?"

She meant to laugh at that, but it came out as a sob, first one, then another, and another, as unbidden, uncontrolled, and absurd, as a case of the hiccoughs. "I tho- I thought you'd- you'd thro--"

"Thrown it away?"

She gulped and nodded, holding her breath, to be sure she heard him.

"Why would I ever? I would never!" he said, as though it were one long word. "This is thy connection to home (mine, too, for a while). And it's a far stronger reminder of our promises than any ring-maker's trinket, or ink spilled on parchment. Hm? When it's our anniversary, we'll plant--"

Something invisible, as fine as spider silk, and sharp as a knife, snapped from around her own heart, then. And she wept. She couldn't stop. It felt like she would never stop.

But at last, the flood eased, and her breath came without catching in her chest. However long it had been, the light had shifted; it was truly night, now. Cinnabar was still there, his arm around her shoulder.

He was humming something in her ear. It sounded like it might be a children's rhyme, or a lullaby. It wasn't any she had heard before, though she could tell it was out of tune.

"Thou'rt a terrible singer," she told him, smiling.

He laughed, touching his forehead to her temple. "Always have been," he said, "every day of my life." He stood. "Come," he said. "Thou gavest me a tour of thy home. Shall I return the favor?"

She took his hand. "Yes," she said. "Thank thee, Cinnabar."

As they passed by a window, Galantha could see that her cheeks were stained with dust from the roads, her eyes were red from crying, and her braids were all askew. She was still a beautiful woman, perhaps, but no longer one that would make the sun jealous.

She sighed, and smiled.

[thcrnedthrones]

{theo james, 37, cismale, he/him} we are so glad to see you safe, [HIGH KING] [ALEXANDER] of [SCOTLAND]! it’s dangerous out in the world these days, but i hear that you are [CHARMING] and [FEARLESS] enough to handle it. just don’t let your [RECKLESSNESS] bring you down! stay on your guard, because with your secret being at risk for exposure, you wouldn’t want everyone to find out [HE WOULD HAVE MUCH RATHER NOT HAVE BEEN BORN ROYAL].

/ BASICS /

name: alexander nicholas stuart nicknames: n/a, possibly Alec when he was younger by his siblings. age: thirty-seven birth: june 28th status: high king of scotland (second born son) sexuality: heterosexual pronouns: he/him marital status: unwed, unbethrothed

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐬 —

eye color: brown/hazel hair color: brown height: 6 ft 1' weight: one hundred and seventy two pounds

𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞 —

father: the former king of Scotland, mother: the former queen of Scotland, siblings: one older brother (high king faolan), two younger sisters (Queen Claire and Queen Elidh)

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 —

spoken tongues: english, gaelic positives: charming, kind, courageous negatives: impulsive, stubborn, rebellious, reckless moral compass: chaotic good

/ ABOUT ALEXANDER /

The rebellious second son to the Scottish royal family had always been a sort of black sheep among his siblings. He did not have the pressure that was on his elder brother and was left to his own devices, everyone believing that the line of succession meant that he was the spare, and he was content to be just that.

He was able to travel, spending more of his time away from home than the time he actually spent on Scottish shore, but he loved it and he's been able to travel all over the world meeting people from all walks of life and building connections that he never would have been able to do if he'd been trapped in Scotland like a caged bird.

It was on one of these trips long before the reckoning that he visited France under the guise of being a peasant, and not the son of France's political enemy, that he met Aurora Orleans, spending a whole week with her, getting to know her and watching her fall in love with the country she'd been in her whole life but never really seen. Not realizing that in watching her discover France, he was falling in love with her.

The guards took her away when they were found, and the guilt and regret that he's felt in not fighting them off and staying with her has been with him ever since. Returning to Scotland, he went about his duties, living out his life and thinking of the girl he'd spent that time in France with, any chance he got. Saying nothing to his siblings and friends about how close he'd gotten to the French princess.

Then the Reckoning happened, and the death of their father turned the four Stuarts' lives upside down, for a moment they all become the other's greatest enemy, and the argument of who should succeed the throne hung in the air, making things tense for them all before they agreed to the shared regency of their country. All of them forming a single leader and even then Alexander felt like he was forced into a royal life that he had never asked for nor wanted.

Now that the courts are coming together, his thoughts go to Aurora, and seeing her again. Their complicated connections to their families and countries making it difficult for them to love each other the way they've wanted since their time exploring the streets of Paris together. He'd never been one to think about marriage, fancying himself a lothario who's had his share of dalliances, but Aurora is different and the more he thinks about it, the more he wants to make her his wife and never have to be without her again.

With all of these changes happening in Alexander's life, the next question is how are his actions going to affect his family and the Scottish throne.

[felixcatton]

Hello ma’am ☀️ 👋🏻 😌

Having watched djats (I blame u), I’d love to hear about your fav parts of the show and book - bonus points if they’re not in the book and show! (Of course if you feel inclined to share! 😊)

I'M SO HAPPY YOU WATCHED, i'll gladly take the blame 😁 i'll keep it to things that aren't in the book or in the show, orrrrr just things that i just think were executed way better in one rather than the other!

the book:

this is more just something that i thought wasn't executed as well in the show, but... karen. like everything about karen. i loooove suki waterhouse, but much preferred karen in the book. the show tried sorta, but she felt watered down. among other reasons, i have... Complicated feelings about karengraham and like 90% of her scenes were with graham. in the book, she was my third favourite character and i loved her entire arc.

i was skimming the book the other day and i was so struck by how MUCH there is about teddy and billy working on aurora together. i love that their dynamic was like a father/son, yes, but also such a musical partnership. there's such an ease to their work together, like musical soulmates. they were such a tight, exclusive unit that it's like yeah no wonder the band hated you 😭 but i loved it<3

on that same note, i did love billy and teddy going back and rerecording so much of the album behind everyone's backs. and i obviously just mean that in the sense that i simply can't help but enjoy an annoying rude tyrannical little control freak character and i especially enjoy watching those traits destroy all of their relationships. and this particular thing factored so heavily into the band's resentments and ultimate break-up that i was surprised the show didn't include it other than eddie throwing in a single line about it in the last episode. the show obv already has ample examples of billy being an asshole in this way, but this specifically was a real stand-out moment in the book to me.

daisy's general motherhood arc, which IS obviously a part of the show, and i do like the way it was done in the show; i just really, really loved how a hope like you was explicitly about that in the book.

a hope like you on snl!!!!! the idea of them doing a stripped down, intimate performance right at the time that daisy feels most vulnerable with him, and everyone going so crazy for it that they have to try to recreate it at every show. and with a song that is SO vulnerable to her, a song that she admits is about him but is on a much larger scale about her wish to become a mother, to be the kind of woman who could be a good mother, like the kind of woman he married. and how singing this particular song with him in this particular way becomes actually torturous. it was such a choice. this part, particularly the last paragraph, is just insane.

the show:

daisybilly actually kissing. not once, not twice, but three times. like, thank god.

SIMONE AND BERNIE 💖🧡💕💓💝💗💞❤️💘

playing up daisy's mommy issues was such a good choice. their phone call in episode 10 was a highlight of the whole show for me.

okay i'm an eddie hater and wish it could've been done with someone else (although i get why it was eddie, it definitely added to the eddie/billy rivalry, or rather the eddie/billy rivalry that eddie wishes existed) but i am happy that camila got an explicit cheating plot. like she needed that. we all needed that.

this is a really little scene but it's kind of a big one when you compare it to the book. billy and camila talking about having another child but then never having one, considering they already had three kids at that point in the book. like... what an interesting scene lmao. but also how he reacts the exact same way to camila bringing up another baby as he did to daisy bringing up another album. it’s a lot.

billy's relapse and camila leaving him in episode 10. not just because i thought it was nice to see camila actually say "enough is enough" but because i was glad to see both of them forced to confront everything and realize that just saying "everything is fine" does not, in fact, make everything fine. and that billy was white-knuckling his sobriety! i was happy to see that actually fully acknowledged. the fact that he actually goes back to rehab and stays in therapy afterwards and how that's really the only reason they were able to stay together and make it work, while in the book they just never talk about it ever and are like "we prefer it this way actually" (which is hilarious and so, so crazy like book!camilabilly will forever be so fascinating to me, i want to study their brains). for the show, i thought that was a really satisfying conclusion that imo made it clear that the rest of their marriage really was happy, even if still surely complicated™️

[renon4224]

WIP 44

Chapter One

I stared at the wall, though in this darkness I can’t make out anything, not even where the wall met the floor.

“Sada? Are you awake?” My ‘cellmate’ across the room, asked.

“Not anymore, Morgan.” 

“When do you think we’ll get to go home?” As far as I know, Morgan was seven when she was taken. Her parents never even tried to hide her, they just thought that the government wouldn’t do something so corrupt.

“I don’t know, but it’s late and we have a long day tomorrow. So, can we please go to sleep?”

“Okay.” 

My heart aches for her, she turned ten last week, not that I’d tell her that. At least not yet, she already cries herself to sleep most of the time. My real name is Reihan Wessex, and it is January 5, 2025, marking my eighteenth birthday, and third year at Ravenwood Correctional Facility. This whole thing started three years ago, I was in school and happy. Until my step-mom took me out of school in the middle of the day, which was strange considering that she HATED taking me out of school when I was sick and I didn’t have any pressing appointments, it was the last day of school, June 2, 2022. She told me and my sister that we were gonna drive really far, a ‘road trip’ of sorts, but we, my sister and I, had no notions, or even a slight mention of this trip, Dad was waiting for us and we left. After we had crossed state lines into Idaho, the police stopped us and arrested me and my sister, Aurora was taken into a different car than me, they took her back across state lines, but took me closer to Spokane. My parents were screaming, and I attacked the officers holding me, but they refused to let go, I ended up slamming the car door on someone’s hand and jumping out. I screamed at my parents to get in the car, they did, I jumped in and we made a run for it, chasing the cop that had my sister, but we lost her, and the cops behind us were catching up, I told my parents to turn me in, find my sister and keep her safe, they refused to let me out of the car, but I needed to have them focus on Sis, she needed to be safe. I showed them my walkie-talkie, the one, me and her always took with us when we left anywhere, I turned it on, and called her. It rang and finally picked up, she said nothing, and then all of a sudden, “Interstate 90” that was it. I called again, and she said nothing, but I could hear the officer that took her talking, “Why would she be going to White Garden?” my parents heard and gave each other a knowing look, so I turned off the walkie. They told me that we were gonna go get her, but it didn’t turn out that way. I ended up getting caught, but she got out, she was safe, and that’s the only thing that matters. I shook myself out of the memory and scratched a tally into the backboard of my bed, marking my nine hundred fifty-third day at Ravenwood. 

-Ten hours later-

Think of the most ear-shattering, screeching, loudest noise you can think of, now times that by a hundred, and you’re close to the sound that I’ve woken up to for the past three years. 

“Get up, you lazy freaks.” Another constant reminder of the hellhole I’m stuck in, or as they would have us say, a perfect wake-up since we aren’t allowed to have alarm clocks.

The guard looked around, his eyes scanning the room for somebody to pick on, “Hey you, get going already, you have,” He looked at his watch, “Eight minutes, chop-chop.”

I looked at the girl he had pointed at, she looked like she was gonna pass out, she was one of the newer ones, the shipment from last week. Morgan had tears pouring down her face again, she reminded me of my cousins, they were a little bit younger than her, but they would’ve still been taken. I wonder if that’s why I felt obligated to keep her safe, after all, the similarities ran deep. Right down to the way she would cry if you talked to her too roughly.

“Hey, come here Morgan,” I whispered, my voice low enough the guard couldn’t hear me, while also being clear enough to have Morgan hear me.

“Yeah?” She looked at me with hope, just like every morning.

“Let me help you.” I had finished getting dressed almost immediately after waking up, courtesy of waking at 5:30 a.m. I pushed my reminiscing away and tossed Mory’s clothes on her, shoes were kept with number tags at all exits, they were unnecessary otherwise.

-10 minutes later-

“2504847, line up.” 

I obeyed, keeping my head down, insubordination was met with pain, not always physical, and I wouldn’t be lucky enough to have one of the female guards reprimand me.

“Put your shoes on, hussy.” The older man barked, some of the younger officers laughed, one- ONE girl looked at him in disbelief, like she was so disappointed in him, I shook the thought away, she’s just like the rest of them. After all, this was just baiting and cornering, we couldn’t wear shoes inside and we weren’t allowed to talk to the officers.

“That’s not necessary, Innalt.” A girl, she was a new recruit, stepped between me and Innalt.

“Oh come, let me have a little fun with ‘em, Loa.” He leered at me.

I took a deep breath and motioned for the other girls to follow with the line-up, missing headcount was punishable with a missed meal or being tied outside for a couple of days, with only the bare necessities.

“No, these girls need breakfast so, hurry up with headcount before I take over.” From where I stood, she looked like a savior, but I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, she would turn around and do some stupid degrading thing, like everyone else.

“Fine,” He rattled off the codes for the other nine girls in my cabin, “Happy?”

“Yes.” She smiled and Innalt looked so pissed, it was a glorious moment.

-10 minutes later (With merciless teasing althroughout)-

We all walked into the Mess Hall, imagine your kitchen at home, filled with dirty dishes, mold in the sinks, a fridge that had never been cleaned or turned on, and tons of kids crammed into one room, and then you’re close to the smell and unsanitary grossness of the Mess Hall. 

“Wash your hands and dishes.” Another constant here, more stupid things said over the loudspeakers.

Nonetheless, everyone started cleaning everything they would need for ‘breakfast’, lunch, and ‘dinner’. Breakfast generally consisted of some gross mush the cook made, lunch was whatever the kids got from the garden, and my peers would cook something for the younger kids, but dinner was just the leftover mush warmed up from breakfast. When I first arrived, meals were much better, we had everything we needed, but then the camp became crowded and food shortages resulted, leaving everyone scrambling to try and find food. 

"2504847?" The female guard from earlier, Loa, came up to me. 

I washed my dishes in silence, Loa knew the rules, it was cruel to ask me to disobey them. After Loa figured out I wasn't in the mood for false pleasantries, she took someone else's dishes and started washing them.

"Loa! The little monsters can wash their own shit, get over here!" Innalt yelled, he was the worst of the guards, always targeting the little ones and newcomers. He was the one who everyone was terrified of, him and his naughty punishments. 

"Not now Innalt, I'm showing compassion, something you seem to be incapable of." Loa was able to stick up for herself…a pleasure we are denied.

"Are you trying to get little Miss 2504847 in trouble? Let me help." Innalt was creeping towards me, Loa stopped him, but he pushed her aside.

"You're eighteen this year, aren't you?" He whispered, his hands running the length of my sides, "You're looking pretty full up top there," He rested his chin in the crook of my neck, his hands coming inward and up to where my bra ended.

And for a second, I wondered what it would be like to feel this with someone I actually loved. 

"Innalt. Hands off." Great, another male guard. Innalt released me, but not before he had squeezed my breasts and pushed his nasty little thing into me.

"Oh come on Master Ravenwood, let me have some fun." Innalt joked.

"If you keep 'having some fun' I'll make sure you eat whatever the girls eat for the next fortnight, understood?"

"Sir." Good, be scared of our meals. Be scared of the ways you treat kids.

"Miss 2504847. Follow me." Master Ravenwood called, so I rearranged my clothes into a fashion that didn't scream 'inappropriate touching'.

-In Master Ravenwood's office-

Master Ravenwood looked like a typical black-haired blue-eyed teen, or at least he wasn't much older than me. I looked around the office, no decor except for a painting of what looked like broken glass. I kept my head bowed, if he was anything like the rumors…he could've called me in here to kill me. 

The fear must've been evident in my body language, "Don't fret, I'm not going to hurt you," I could almost hear the yet. I just nodded and he sighed, "Anything you say in here can't be recorded, feel free to speak your mind in here." 

"Innalt should be fed to the pigs." I had the worst mean streak, and I knew exactly what my revenge would be.

He laughed, "I'm afraid I cannot fire Innalt, he's too good at what he does."

"You mean rape, right? Because he is absolutely AWFUL at everything else." 

Ravenwood punched the table, "Hold your tongue, wench. Innalt's methods may be....... irregular," He came to my side of the table, resting his hands on my shoulders, and pinching the skin, "But they work, I've never had a kid escape my facility in his lead."

I shrugged him off, "Yet, you've never had a kid escape yet. And you've also never had a guard die, have you?"

"Ahh, so you are a Code Purple." He seemed triumphant, which confused me.

"Does Code Purple mean I can kill Innalt?" I wasn't brave, or strong, just stubborn and hateful. They put me here, I will make their jobs hell.

"Of course not, it just means we need to find your weakness and play with it." He emphasized 'play' in a way that made me think that 'playing' would be much much worse than Innalt.

"I wish you were dead too, fed to the-" He slapped me in the mouth, and then he shoved me out the door.

"Leave 2504847 in the pigpen, forty-eight hours of that should teach her to hold her tongue and respect the people who care for her." His voice wasn't cruel, just cold and empty.

Two male guards escorted me out, when we reached the exit they allowed me to tie my shoes and when we reached the pen they tried to throw me into the mud, it almost worked, except I turned and flew at one of the guards, a rusty nail in my left hand. 

"None of that, you hear me 2504847?" The other guard stopped me and plucked the nail from my grasp. I snarled in response, they were all pigs. Disgusting little boars.

I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday, but my adrenaline made me forget about it for awhile. I calmed down and I imagined Innalt coming over to 'play' and falling a little too close to the piglets, the mother ripping him to shreds, leaving only his head intact, his baby blues losing all emotion, his blond hair caked with blood, and the pigs feasting on his groin and hands. I could almost hear his screams, almost see how he tried to electrocute the pig with his taser, but he couldn't figure out how to make it work, and he suffered. I kept going over how he didn't die until after the pig had ripped his naughty bits off, the last thing he saw was his precious body parts being eaten by a pig and the girl he failed to rape. 

I had fallen asleep and when I woke, Morgan was trying to throw me a couple carrots while looking as though she was really feeding the pigs. She was attempting to throw the carrots close enough that they wouldn’t get shit on them and I’d be able to grab them before the pigs did, however, she only managed to chuck one at my head and the others were picked up by the piglets. I shooed her away when a guard came to taunt me, it was the stupid girl Loa.

“Your time is almost up, when you leave, you should gather all your belongings and prepare to leave the Ravenwood Correctional Facility.” She was wearing the Corrector Bracelet, which would give off electrical warnings, but guards rarely used them.

“And you should call it by its real name, hell.” I spat, kicking a piece of particularly foul faeces up at her.

She jumped back, the faeces landing on her pristine white combat boots, “Fine, goodbye.” She huffed and walked away.

“That’s what I thought!” I was pissed, even if my time was up soon, I’d have to meet with the shit-head Master again.

Innalt was messing with some girls, they were a bit younger than me, somewhere around fifteen and sixteen. Innalt wasn’t bad when he first came, he had just barely missed the deadline and he had tried to help one girl escape when it failed and she was flogged, he went kinda crazy, he stopped being nice and started touching other girls, but only ones who looked like his ex. Sadly, Morgan and I both looked like her and so did most of the girls in our faction. I couldn’t remember the last time he talked to someone just to talk. Not even the other guards liked him, they only liked that his good work equalled their good pay.

Some nights I wanted to choke out the guards outside my room and get all the girls out, but then I remember that even the best of us could be shot, they’d just leave the shot ones to die. Other nights, I just want to talk to my parents, or my sister, I hope so bitterly that they're all safe, somewhere up in the Yaak, or so far away that they escaped the waves. That’s what we call them now, ‘waves’, the cops and law enforcement went out every three weeks to find everyone between the ages of fifteen to seven for one year. I didn’t know about the waves until the middle of it all when they finally came to my hometown. 

[whimsicalpoet44]

Do you have any song recommendations if you're up to it? Thank you!

Absolutely! Music is one of my special interests and I have a very vast musical taste. 😂 I think the only genre I do not like is Country.

There's so many different ways I can do this post, but I think I'll settle on doing songs associated with my big 3!

Before I begin...please look up Ryan Caraveo if you're neurodivergent, a fire Sun, or an 8th/12th houser. His music is literally amazing. Like, if I could only listen to one artist for the rest of my life, it would be him, hands down. (A lot of his songs will be in my recs 😂)

Songs that I like as a Pisces Moon | 12th House Stellium

As a Pisces Moon, I like to make myself sad sometimes. (Hello enneagram number four) So these are what get me up in my feels. (please don't judge me 😂)

🎶 Neptune by Sleeping at Last

🎶 Four by Sleeping at Last

🎶 Peanut Butter Waffles by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Hear Me by Imagine Dragons (Saturn in the 3rd | 12th Houser | Chiron Gemini would relate)

🎶 Destroy Myself Just For You by Montell Fish

🎶 Hello My Old Heart by the oh hellos

🎶 The Ghost on the Shore by Lord Huron

🎶 Get to Choose by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Atlantis by Seafret

🎶 Galaxies by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Cradles by Sub Urban

🎶 Deceived by Ryan Caraveo (Sunset driving with a lot on your mind. It's a whole vibe)

🎶 All Time Low by Jon Bellion

🎶 Believe by Mumford & Sons

🎶 Control by Halsey

🎶 Nate by NF (trigger warning. If you grew up with a narcissistic mom, this is the one. It does talk about addiction)

🎶 Bottom of the Ocean by blink-182

🎶 Nutcase by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Dandelions by Ruth B. (It gives off that "the world is so beautiful and so are you" vibes)

🎶 My Head Gets Loud by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Literally anything by Hoizer

🎶 Are You With Me by nilu

🎶 Family Line by Conan Grey (LOL if you know, you know)

🎶 Angels on the Moon by Thriving Ivory (helped me grieve my dad)

🎶 Sun by Loveless

🎶 Doctor by Truslow (Trigger warning: It's describing a really bad maniac episode that leads to hospitalization, but it sounds really happy. It got me through some really difficult days in college when my mental health was trashed. Before I got diagnosed with ADHD)

🎶 Better by One Republic (Same as above. Pluto in the 12th probs.)

🎶 Hold on tight by Aloe Blacc (This song always makes me ridiculously happy when I'm struggling)

🎶 Sing of the Moon by The Collection

🎶 All My Life by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 I feel 2 much by blackbear.

🎶 Someday You Will Be Loved by Death Cab for Cutie

🎶 I will follow you into the dark by Death Cab for Cutie (I feel like everyone knows this song, but it's such a 12th house vibe 😂)

🎶 Is it me by Loveless

🎶 I Miss the Days by NF (helped me heal. Made me sob. It was nice)

🎶 Wake Me Up by Avicci

🎶 Ghost by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 If I could i would feel nothing by blackbear.

🎶 Fallout by Marianas Trench

🎶 Stupid Deep by Jon Bellion

🎶 Unclear by Kodaline

Songs that I like as a Sagittarius Sun

🎶 Soulmate by Lizzo (It's such a vibe and so empowering)

🎶 Ashes by Stellar

🎶 Play with fire by Sam Tinnesz and Yacht Money

🎶 Burning Pile by Mother Mother

🎶 Blame by Bastille

🎶 Outta My Head by Khalid

🎶 Nightmare by Halsey (I get chills listening to this song)

🎶 Believer by Imagine Dragons

🎶 Finale (Can't wait to see what you do next) by AJR

🎶 Willow by Jasmine Thompson

🎶 Arsonist's Lullaby by Hoizer

🎶 Venom by Little Simz

🎶 I've Had Enough by Melina KB (If you're healing from an abusive relationship, this is the one)

🎶 Castle by Halsey

🎶 Go Easy by Matt Maeson

🎶 Never Did by Ryan Caraveo (When I say this song got me through the grief and anger when I went no contact with my mom!)

🎶 cinderella's dead by emeline

🎶 Middle Fingers by Aston

🎶 Permanent Red by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Sleep on the Floor by the Lumineers

🎶 Wake Me Up by Avicii

🎶 Truth Hurts by Lizzo

🎶 Patient by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 No More Tears by Jez Dior

🎶 The Anthem by Good Charlotte

🎶 Day N' Nite by Kid Cudi

🎶 I Love Me by Demi Lovato

🎶 Runaway by Aurora

🎶 The Kitchen by Tow'rs

Songs that I like as a Capricorn Rising

🎶 Saturn by Sleeping at Last

🎶 Perfect World by Ryan Caraveo (If you're a poet or a musician that grew up in a toxic household, you'll appreciate this one)

🎶 god sent me as karma by emlyn

🎶 Get to Choose by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 I Am (ft. Flo Milli) by Baby Tate

🎶 Can't Pretend by Tom Odell

🎶 Daddy Issues by the Neighbourhood 😂

🎶 Killing Me to Love You by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

🎶 Won't Stop Yet by the collection

🎶 Theme Song by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Motion Sickness by Phoebe Bridgers

🎶 lovely by Billie Eilish and Khalid

🎶 Deep End by Fousheé

🎶 I am not a woman, I'm a god by Halsey

🎶 Older than I am by Lennon Stella

🎶 Go Time by Ryan Caraveo

🎶 Panic Room by Au/Ra

🎶 Praying by Kesha

🎶 Let you down by NF

🎶 To My Younger Self by Britton

🎶 I hope your miserable until ur dead by nessa barrett

[diamondangelkitten]

Vierapril Day 12: Treasure

“So what did you think of the book?” Annabeth sits down and thanks Alira for the cup of tea that the latter slides over to her before answering her friend. “It was good. I can’t believe that this was a play touring while we were adventuring. I’m sad we missed out on seeing it live.” “Right?! I’m so glad that Aurora found a copy of the book and sent it over to us!”

Alira smiles, “Lalafells of the Caribbean. It really should have been called Pirates of the Caribbean if you ask me.” Annabeth shrugs, “Well, there must have been some reason they couldn’t. I heard it had great stage design and production value.” Alira laughs, “I’m sure Hades would’ve loved it.” They two share a laugh as they think back on Solus zos Galvus and his love of the theater. “Oh definitely, it would have a saved slot every season.” “For sure, although Hyth would now make sure that every library had a copy of the book,” Annabeth says. Alira nods in agreement, “In all honesty, I loved the plot. It was thought provoking for  a lot of people.” “Aye, stories we know all too well that most people wouldn’t believe. That sometimes you have to do things that seem wrong to do what is ultimately right.”

Alira nods, “I did love Captain Jack’s line, “Not all treasure is silver and gold.”” Annabeth thinks for a moment, before asking, “Why did that one stick out to you?” Alira shrugs, “Ul’dah has built a name for itself in promising that wealth and jewels can be yours if you work hard enough. But you and I both know that luck comes into play there. Luck, fate, whatever you want to call it.” Annabeth can tell she’s quite passionate about this topic, as Alira has started talking with her hands making Annabeth have to dodge out the way. “Yes, money is nice and it makes life easier, but people don’t understand the harm it has. How it puts a target on your back. No one takes time to treasure the things closest to them. Whether it be people or possessions.”

She stops before taking out a necklace that was hidden under her jacket. “You’ve seen me wear this, yes?” “I have, though you normally kept it safe in a padded pouch while we were traveling.” “Indeed. This is all I have left of my parents.” Annabeth looks at her friend, trying to see where this is headed. “It’s not much, but I can now look back and treasure the time I had with them, and the fact that I even have this memorabilia. Rielle has nothing of the sort with her mother. So, I’m trying, to make new memories with her that will hopefully stay with her through her life. We get coffee, have nail dates. Now with Sibbie, trying to balance them both. I’m so glad they love each other.” Annabeth smiles and goes to hug her friend, “You’re doing an amazing job. And Rielle truly loves you. But you are right. I don’t regret my decision to leave home, but I was devastated when my lance from home broke. I still kept the pieces and got it fixed, but I knew I could never wield it again. Memories are the only thing we’ll have left. Especially you and I.” It was very much a forbidden topic between them, but they knew that they would outlive their friends and loved ones. Even their children, blessed with long life, would likely pass before them.

Alira looks to her friend, “I’ll be gold to your silver?” Annabeth laughs, “I thought the whole point wasn’t to gather up treasure?” Alira dramatically places a hand to her chest, “Annabeth, you wound me. You always have to have something of a reserve, a final trick up your sleeve.” She winks and Annabeth can’t help but sigh. “If Jack existed and you met him before Sid, you’d totally have gone out with him wouldn’t you?” “I think you mean Captain Jack and yes, I’d 100% have lived on Tortuga.” Their laughter is interrupted by a rapt knock on Alira’s door. She opens it to find Alinea and Aurora standing out in the snow, each carrying their own copy of Lalafells of the Caribbean. “What’s so funny?” Ali asks, stepping into Lira’s home and giving her a hug. Alira sends a smile Annabeth’s way, “Oh, just started book club early. Had to talk about the handsome rogue that is Captain Jack Sparrow.” All the girls laugh as they get comfortable for a long night of discussion and laughter. 

[nocturne-pisces]

Pisces Sun (1)

A/N: this is for @fuckandfluff ‘s 2K Thot Shit Challenge - my prompt was “I’m sure them other girls were nice enough, but you need someone to spice it up.” - Girls Like You (Maroon 5 ft. Cardi B). Lines inspired by the song are bolded. This work doesn’t have any thot shit in it, but if it tracks I might write a follow up with another song.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 3.6k (ahaha whoops)

Warnings: uh, this is mostly just angsty dumbasses in love, but also like cursing I guess and mentions of sex. this is not canon compliant.

Masterlist

Tony had foregone his usual oversized crystal chandelier in the ballroom of the compound. He had it taken down in favor of something more subtle, yet exponentially more beautiful.

Tonight’s charity banquet theme was ‘Under the Stars’. Impossibly, intensely dark blue fabric paneling hung, billowing from the ceiling in different shades. A conceptualized version of the same sky outside the front doors. Through that fabric, hung on what you could only assume was fishing wire, were the smallest yellow tinged LED lights, blinking softly. And if you squinted just right, you were pretty sure that you could see the big dipper.

Tony had declared that it was a black tie affair, plates were 500$ a piece, and all of the proceeds were going towards the Sokovia Restoration Program.

As an Avenger that had been there when it was blown to pieces, seeing the families displaced first hand, you’d bought twenty plates and invited the local children’s choir. When Pepper found out what you��d done she’d cornered you in the office and reminded you that it wasn’t your fault. You had done what you had to put an end to Ultron and Tony had felt bad enough about that to donate quite a few million dollars to begin with.

You had to remind Pepper that everything you needed was provided for you by them. There was nothing you needed that you didn’t have. Going without play money for a few months was nothing compared to what these families were missing. You just wished you had enough time off between missions to go back and help rebuild, even though you weren’t entirely sure the people of Sokovia wanted to see you.

Tonight, though, you decided to give yourself a break from the guilt. Your therapist had agreed that it was a good idea. The world could always be saved tomorrow, but tonight you could just live in your own.

Enter Bucky Barnes. He always felt like the orbiting moon. Always there, always beautiful, but always just out of reach. Whether by choice or circumstance, you couldn’t decipher. He kept his distance and you let him have it, fearing any kind of tryst formed by overstepping.

But you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered over the corner of his jaw, sliding down over the tendon in his neck and following the curve of his collar bone just under his sweaty t-shirt after he got done sparring with Steve.

Your room was just down the hall from his. He lived between Steven and you. Between the sun and the void. After you watched one too many walks of shame leave his apartment, you’d decided that wasn’t a trajectory you wanted for a relationship between you and him. You didn’t want to be a comet; seen once burning bright against the night sky and then never seen again.

How were you expected to resist those supernova irises when their gravity threatened to swallow you whole every time he made eye contact during a briefing? You were only human. How were you expected to fight feelings for someone that, like the moon, you couldn’t physically touch? It was like wanting to know what the Aurora Borealis tasted like. It made no sense but your mouth watered anyway.

So you stuffed it all down. Let it implode in your chest like a dying star and went about your life like there wasn’t a black hole sucking your heart into oblivion. And that’s how it had stayed for two years. After a while it got the slightest bit easier, but there were still moments that felt like re-entering earth’s atmosphere and burning alive.

As much as you just wanted to have a good time and let go -- tonight was one of those reentering the atmosphere moments.

You first started to feel the fragmenting combustion when you entered the ballroom, a flowy silver satin dress falling over your form effortlessly, and you spotted him over by the tables. He wore his long hair half up to keep it out of his face, even though there was always that errant lock that escaped and fell over the sharp peak of his cheekbone. You followed that lock of hair down his jawline, scruffed but well trimmed, and then down the column of his neck.

His dress shirt was black, a silk tie laid neatly over the buttons and tucked into his blazer. As you neared the table to greet the rest of your teammates you caught the design on his tie, it was subtle in design but unmistakable to you. You’d spent enough time on the team that you knew his birthday was March 10th and, therefore, knew the constellation stitched into his tie was that of Pisces.

Pisces; a water sign. Selfless and compassionate. Deep as the ocean, endlessly empathetic, and incredibly intuitive.

But if all of that was true, how could he not feel how your heart shattered when you saw the woman on his arm? You had no right to feel any kind of way about the women he brought to the compound. You hadn’t so much as hinted at your feelings for him. Retaining your silence, leaving rooms when he entered them, keeping your conversation to a minimum during briefings and debriefings. All so you could keep yourself from being confronted with the truth by the man that you were in love with.

That you would never and could never be good enough.

Steve detected your approach first, flashing an award winning smile and giving you a once over.

“Well if it isn’t the North Star herself.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, that is the cheesiest shit you’ve ever said to me.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you nearly saw the next dimension, but the heat that crawled up the back of your neck and into your cheeks betrayed you. Getting this kind of attention in front of Bucky made your stomach do flips.

Sam was the next to pipe up, “Aw, come on. We never get to see you dressed up. Your tac suit does you no justice. S’not our fault you look damn good.”

“Sam!” Your hand flew to cover your mouth, desperately trying to cover the shade of red that was painting across your face.

“Alright alright, let up. You know she gets weird about compliments,” Nat called, waving off the boy's protests before taking you by the arm and steering you towards the bar and away from your own personal hell.

You ordered your usual rum and coke and Nat ordered a martini, extra dirty. When the bartender brought your drinks back you took a long sip, letting out a contented sigh as you felt the sharp edges of embarrassment dull.

“Ugh, thank god, I need a drink after that. I hate it when they do that.”

“You sure that’s why you need a drink?”

You whipped your head around, your eyebrows knitting themselves together as you met Natasha’s gaze.

“Nat, I don’t know what you’re--”

“Oh please,” she chided, “everyone knows how you feel about Barnes except for Barnes. Fuckin’ idiot.” You felt like your stomach had opened a wormhole and it was draining all of the color out of your face.

“Everyone?”

“Except Barnes. That's why the boys do that compliment shit, they’re trying to remove Bucky’s head from his ass, get him to realize he might get something real with you instead of bringing home every hussy in the tri-city area just to kick them out in the morning.”

The only thing you could think to do was stare into your drink, the idea of something real with Bucky flashing images  across your mind's eye that you had locked away a long time ago. The image of Bucky wrapped around you while you stood at the stove cooking dinner, of Bucky asleep on your lap in the quinjet after a mission, of his body atop yours while you pull each other apart at the seams.

“You have to talk to him.” Nat’s words crashed into you like an asteroid, carving a landing ditch of fear and nausea across your face.

“Y-you know I can’t do that,” you plead, shaking your head violently.

Natasha leaned close to you, holding your line of sight with a dangerous intensity. “Then you’ll always wonder what it’ll be like to be loved by him, and you’ll watch him search for that love in the girls he brings home. Until one day, he finds it with someone that isn’t you.”

“Nat, please…” you croaked, your throat raw from unshed tears.

“No, you need to hear this. I’m sure those other girls were nice enough, but he needs someone to spice it up. To make him feel alive again. And from where Sam, Steve, and I are sitting. He needs a girl like you. Talk to him by the end of the party, or I will.” She left a quick kiss on your cheek before she picked up her drink and walked away.

You gaped after her as she left you in pieces at the bar.

And just like that, the concept of having a fun night blasted off into the endless void of space.

On the other side of the room, or maybe on the other side of the universe, Bucky was becoming painfully aware of the sweat trickling down his back. He was too dressed up. He was wearing too many layers of too many constricting clothes and he was pretty sure he was suffocating.

And then you walked up to the table in that dress and he felt the vacuum of space steal the air from his lungs. His date, Melanie, who also happened to be his counselor, noticed the way that Bucky’s knuckles turned white on the hem of his jacket from the strain of not turning to look at you.

She had agreed to go to the benefit with him on a purely platonic basis because she thought it would be a good idea for him to have a night out and he said that he would go out if she was there as moral support.

Melanie also read the heartbreak in your face when your eyes razed over where hers was laid in the dip of Bucky's arm. It wasn’t difficult for her to put two and two together. You must have been the one he spent so much time talking about during his sessions. The one he tortured himself over. The one he said he didn’t deserve but couldn’t let go of.

Melanie had been telling him for months to just talk to you, just say hello. You have to start somewhere, James, even if it’s just a discussion about the weather. But he was too chickenshit to do anything. It was different when it was some girl in some bar and he didn’t care about how he looked when he told them he just wanted a release for the night.

It was different because he knew that if you spent the night with him under the stars, he wouldn’t want you to disappear with them when the sun rose, and that was something that he’d never felt before.

When it came to Bucky’s fears, Hydra didn’t even hold a candle to what your solar flare smile did to his heart. It terrified him into inaction.

She also saw the way that Bucky’s jaw set, teeth gnashing behind his fake smile, because his friends had started going on about how beautiful you were. She could see him beating himself up, about how it should be him calling you beautiful, how it should be him twirling you, how it should be him with his fingertips on the satin of your dress.

And then Nat took you to the bar and his gaze fell to his feet. The vast expanse of nothing returning behind his eyes as he drowned in his own self loathing.

Melanie took Bucky to the dance floor, where she could have this conversation with him in private without being seen leaving the room with him. His left hand fell respectfully in the middle of her back, holding the other with his right as they waltzed to some modern slow song that Bucky didn’t know.

“So you’re just going to let her get away like that?”

Bucky opened his mouth to reply, closing it again when he couldn’t find anything to say.

“You realize that one day she’s going to give up. You’re going to keep ignoring her and she’s going to find love in someone else, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life wondering what a love with her would have looked like. You got what the vast majority of people will never get in this life, a second chance. And you’re barely alive. You live one day to the next wasting time when you could have a genuine connection.”

Bucky stopped swaying, his eyes closing while he felt the weight of her words sink onto his chest, cracking his ribs one by one.

“Mel, she doesn’t want a guy like me, I’m too-- crazy.”

Melanie drew a deep breath, feeling the frayed edges at the end of her patience.

“James, I’m going to stop being your counselor for a second and be your friend, because you need to hear this, and I mean with all of the respect in my heart. For 104 years old, you are quite possibly one of the biggest idiots I have ever met.”

Bucky’s eyes went wide, taking half a step back. She held onto the lapel of his jacket so he couldn’t rocket away from her.

“I have listened to this shit for the last time. You don’t get to decide for her what she wants. You don’t even see how she looks at you. You tell her by the end of the party, or I will.”

“Isn’t that like illegal or something?”

Melanie shrugged. She didn’t have a normal clientele. She was employed directly by Fury and worked out of the SHIELD offices.

“You might be able to make a case for unprofessional, but good luck getting Fury to do anything about it.” She leaned up and left a quick kiss on his cheek before retreating to the table. Her boyfriend, Sam, opened his arms to her and after a few moments they excused themselves for the night.

Bucky watched as they retreated, standing in the middle of the dance floor, seething.

Natasha walked up to him then, playfully punching his arm. “You okay, Barnes?”

He turned to her before looking back to Sam and Melanie. Before the couple got out of the door, Sam turned and winked, Bucky assumed it was because his girl had bested the super soldier.

Back at the bar you were throwing back your third rum and coke, trying to drown the way that it felt like the weight of the moon was crashing into your chest. Natasha couldn’t have been serious. Your own best friend threatened to out you to Bucky, to expose the way your heart soared like a shooting star every time you stood too close to him.

You couldn’t be in this room any longer. The heat of all the bodies around you made you feel like you were standing on the sun. When you turned towards the door you saw Sam leaving with Bucky’s date, looking way too affectionate. You stood there confused as Sam winked at someone in the crowd, but it was quickly followed by the feeling of the axis of the earth shifting as you realized that Bucky was no longer with a date at this event.

You swore your heart rate hit light speed as you thought about going to find him, asking him to dance and confessing all the feelings you had for him. But before you could go through with it your feet carried you out to the gardens and into the cool night. You closed your eyes and laced your fingers over your head and willed fresh air to enter your lungs, an ache settling in your ribs with how hard you were fighting to breathe normally.

When you opened your eyes again, you looked up to the night sky. Even through the light pollution you could see the North Star, and the little star off to the right that always accompanied it. You knew what it felt like to be that star. The one that’s just a little dimmer, a little offset, the one that was never noticed first and discussed even less.

You wrapped your arms around your middle and sat on a bench willing gravity to disappear so you could float away. So you wouldn’t have to watch as Nat told Bucky how you felt, because you sure as shit weren’t going to do it. You weren’t going to let him reject you to your face. You’d let Nat do it so you could pretend it wasn’t real the next day.

The terrace doors swung open behind you, revealing none other than the man in the moon himself. Ethereal and staring directly at you. His face was twisted with anxiety, and your stomach plummeted. Nat had told him, you were sure she had, and he had come to tell you that he wasn’t interested. Flattered, maybe, but not interested.

The way that nausea crawled over your features, Bucky would swear that Melanie beat him too you. And you would tell him the same.

Standing from the bench, you took a few paces towards Bucky, swallowing hard when you heard the doors latch behind him. You both started speaking at the same time.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry--”

“Listen, I know what Melanie told you--”

Silence fell, anxiety and nausea wiped away and replaced by confusion. Bucky was the first to speak, because you were pretty sure that if you opened your mouth the only thing that was going to come out were the drinks you’d had.

“I’m so sorry about Melanie, this wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

You assumed Melanie was his date, but you hadn’t spoken to her. You shook your head softly. What were you not supposed to find out? What was he supposed to tell you that he believed his friend had?

“Melanie didn’t talk to you?” Bucky’s eyebrows cemented together under the worried wrinkles in his forehead.

“I’m assuming that Melanie is your date, and if so; no, I haven’t spoken a word to her.”

“Uhh, Melanie is Sam’s girlfriend...and my counselor.”

“Oh.” Your eyes dropped to where you were worrying your hands together, the heat of Bucky’s gaze on you threatening to turn the core in your chest molten hot. You looked back up at him. His mouth was hanging open, dumbstruck like you’d just caught him in something terrible.

“Did Nat talk to you?”

He closed his mouth and shook his head. Bucky pulled his shaking hands out of his pockets, tucking the errant strand of hair behind his ear.

“I--”

You had started to say something, but before you could get anything noteworthy Bucky felt everything click into place. He realized then that Sam wasn’t winking at him.

He had been winking at Natasha.

“I think we’ve been set up.”

“What do you mean?”

Bucky realized that if were to explain his theory, he would inevitably have to tell you everything. His heart hammering away and his hands sweating he threw all caution to the wind and just decided to come out with it.

“Melanie is my counselor. I talk about you a lot during my sessions and she agreed to come with me tonight as moral support because I don’t go out usually. I guess when she saw how I reacted to Sam and Steve fawning over you, she’d decided she had enough of my shit. She told me that if I didn’t confess I was in love with you by the end of the night she was going to tell you herself.”

Bucky’s face felt hot with embarrassment, waiting for the rejection that was coming his way. The silence lasted long enough for him to look up at you. This particular solar flare smile singed it’s imprint into his heart, scarring it’s permanence.

What followed was the star twinkle of your laughter and he swore this is what it looked like to see a star explode up close.

“Oh, Bucky,” you groaned, taking the deepest breath you’d taken in two years.

“‘Oh, Bucky’ good? Or ‘Oh, Bucky’ bad?” He asked as he wildly searched your face for clues on how he was supposed to feel right now, though he didn’t have to wait for his answer for too long. You closed the gap between the two of you at warp speed, coming to stand only inches from him.

“‘Oh, Bucky’ as in I’ve been in love with you for two years and Natasha threatened to expose me if I didn’t tell you tonight.”

The moment you got the words out you felt planets crashing together as his lips crashed into yours. His hands found purchase against your cheek, his fingers wrapping around the back of your neck as his metal hand held you impossibly close to him. You fisted his silk tie and tangled your digits in the hair at the base of his skull.

Of all the colors you’d ever seen of the milky way, you believe that the ones bursting behind your eyelids as you felt Bucky’s tongue dance with yours were more beautiful.

While you didn’t have a hand in helping hang the stars in the compound ballroom, when you and Bucky came up for air, he looked at you like you hung the ones in the sky shining down on the pair of you now.

And for a fleeting moment you understood what it must feel like when new universes exploded into existence.

Drop a line in my inbox and let me know what you think? This is the first full length Marvel fic I've written, so... *upside down smiley face emoji*

[piratewithvigor]

Journey Out Of Darkness: The History Of Kane

Chapter 9: Aurora

Abel meets his new parents

Last Chapter ~ AO3

Taglist: @the--blackdahlia @coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe @wendigoruble @old-no7 @kayfabebabe

When Mrs. Garcia had said there was a family for him, Abel had sort of assumed that it meant there was a home with two parents and at least one kid waiting for him. That had been his mistake. Red and Margaret Barrow were a couple, a little on the older side, with no children, but a decent number of employees. Mrs. Garcia was telling Abel everything she remembered from her conversation with them as they drove up to the ranch they lived on in the outskirts of Alpine. 

“A working ranch. A hundred and thirty acres. Do you know how big that is, Abel?”

He knew Winnie The Pooh lived in the Hundred-Acre Woods, and that had seemed pretty big from the stories, so he could only assume a hundred and thirty would seem immense. But just to keep from saying so out loud and seeming like a baby, he shook his head.

“It’s big. Trust me, it’s very big. You’ll have plenty of room to explore.”

They were traveling north on 118 now, following signs to the Fort Davis National Historic Area, whatever that was. With the constant business at the funeral home, there had never really been opportunity for family road trips. Dad’s family lived in Marfa and Ma’s family were all taken out by the curse, so there were no relatives to visit. As a result, every mile he drove with Mrs. Garcia was one mile further than he’d ever been away from Marfa before. It was greener out here, mostly fenced in, which made sense, if there were ranches out here.

The drive had been spent mostly in a state of shock. From what he’d listened to from Mrs. Garcia, it wasn’t easy finding someone a new family. It could take ages to happen, if it ever did. Kids over the age of five hardly ever got a chance, especially boys and particularly a boy that looked like him. She didn’t say that last part, but from the way her tone was, it sounded an awful lot like she wanted to. Given all that, he had no idea why a family would want him, but he didn’t want to sound ungrateful.

“I think we turn here,” she said suddenly.

There was a break in the fence line up ahead and tall posts that held a sign for people to pass under that said ‘Aurora’.

The car’s wheels crunched when they left the pavement for the gravel driveway that slowly became less gravel and more dirt the further they went. Abel thought it was a driveway, anyway. The further they went without being able to see any house, the more it sunk in just how big the ranch was. There was enough space that even with all the cows around, they didn’t seem to be crowded in the slightest.

Along the way, Mrs. Garcia explained how the adoption process worked, how she would be out to see him in a couple days, and how it was his choice about whether or not he wanted to stay with the Barrows or find another family, and Abel, who realized that she’d actually given him this speech before about how the whole thing worked and he just hadn’t been listening, really listened this time, though still, it all seemed completely unreal to him.

This was a new family. Supposedly people who he could one day maybe grow to love as much as he loved the family that had died in the fire.

That thought sat heavy in his stomach. He had no idea how he actually felt about it.

Long after Mrs. Garcia finished her talk, long after Abel had time to absorb the news, the road curved and dipped, revealing the actual place he’d be living on the horizon.

Beyond what he’d seen in a handful of westerns in the hospital, he wasn’t really sure what a ranch was in the modern day. Old movies showed them as a farm house and some animals fenced in around it, and he supposed this was somewhat close. There was a taller house off to the side, then a number of one-story buildings that he supposed housed the different animals. They almost looked like toys from a distance. Even as they came closer, they still looked a bit like toys, but Abel’s attention was being drawn a little more to the corral that was far closer. It was a little dusty, with a wooden fence around it and a big, brown horse inside it. The horse wasn’t alone, obviously, but it was the most interesting occupant of the ring. Standing around it were two men wearing cowboy hats and a woman who was seated on top of it. She had the longest, blackest hair Abel had ever seen. Hearing the car, she turned and stared.

She was very pretty. She was angry, too. Abel could see that not just from her expression, but from the way she sat on the horse. Abel felt a little guilty for it, but he hoped she was angry at something besides his arrival. He wanted to make a good first impression, and it would only be harder if she was in a bad mood.

They pulled past the corral and up to the house itself. Mrs. Garcia shut off the engine and turned to him.

“Nervous?”

“A little.”

“You’ll be fine, Abel. You’re a good kid.” She patted his knee comfortingly. “Even if you don’t want to answer Melissa’s letters.”

It seemed foolish now, not answering a single one of the letters he’d been sent. Putting so much stock into a curse he had no proof of, probably hurting her and Katie’s feelings and as a result, not having any friends to talk to in his new home.

She opened the door and got out. An older man was walking toward them. He had on a big cowboy hat too, and he walked with a kind of a hitch in his step. He was tall for someone his age and looked to be in pretty good shape. Certainly healthier than the older men he’d met in the hospital.

“Mrs. Garcia,” the man said. “Good to see you again.”

“Mr. Barrow.”

“Now, now, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a dozen times to call me Red,” he smiled. 

“Alright, Red. Then you have to call me Helena.”

“Helena it is. Now, I hear something about you bringing me someone?” He rubbed his hands together and peered into the car. He had a manner about him that seemed far more fun than Abel expected for an older cowboy. It soothed his nerves and kept him from resisting when Mrs. Garcia motioned for him to step out of the car. 

“This is him.” Mrs. Garcia put a hand on his shoulder. “This is Abel Carrion.”

“Well.” Red put his hands on his hips and looked Abel up and down. Plenty of people had looked at him since he got out of the hospital, but this felt different. It didn’t feel like Red was judging what he looked like. It seemed more as if he was judging something else about Abel. Once he came to a silent conclusion, he stuck his hand out. “Pleased to meet you, Abel. I’m Red Barrow.”

Abel took his hand and shook it firmly once, just as Dad had taught him. “Pleased to meet you too, sir.”

“Mighty fine handshake you’ve got there, son. Gonna take you places in life, I just bet.” He stood up and turned back towards the corral, frowning a little. “Pardon me a moment…” He cupped his hands together and yelled. “Margaret!”

The pretty woman Abel had seen on the way in turned her head, saw Red and held up a finger. Wait one minute, Abel understood her to be saying.

Red tutted and shook his head a little. “That woman and her horses… you like horses, Abel?”

“I guess.”

“You ever ride one?”

“No.”

“Haven’t ridden a horse yet? How old are you?”

“Eight, sir.”

“Eight years old… I suppose we’ll have to see about fixing that. Won’t be a lot of places you can get around here without a horse, seein as you’re still a mite too young to be drivin.”

The woman was walking toward them now. Red greeted her with a kiss, letting Abel realize that she was Mrs. Barrow. His new mom. 

She was nothing like Ma.

“Now that we’re all here, I think some proper introductions are in order,” Red decided. “This is Abel. Abel, this is Margaret– Mrs. Barrow.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Abel held out his hand towards her, but she didn’t take it.

“Hello,” was all she said. She looked him up and down like Red had, but in nowhere near the same way. Her way was far more familiar. The scanning of his face and eye until she had to look away. That was alright; he was used to that reaction. She only smiled when she seemed to decide that she’d spent too long staring. It didn’t reach her eyes at all. She at least made an effort to shake his hand. It felt like how Melissa must have felt when she met him, all politeness barely hiding a deep desire to not be there or anywhere close to there.

“It’s going to be good to have you here. I’m sure we’ll be great friends, don’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Abel nodded, taking his hand back.

Great friends.

He wasn’t all too sure about that…

[indelibleevidence]

2x16 Thoughts

I have lots of Nas appreciation for this episode. First she killed the guy Shepherd sent to kill her (though she didn't mean to), then she made the quip about the gym bag with the $500k being expensive, then she actually let Cade take the money and go (see, Keaton and Tasha? Take notes on being a decent person, here!).

I also have tons of Cade appreciation, because I think he's a very under-appreciated character, and I totally understand why Remi wanted him in her Operation Jane Doe team, because he has lines he won't cross. He's believable, and his backstory is genuinely sad. You can completely understand why he would be vulnerable to Shepherd's manipulation - as he termed it, she found a bruise she could press on with his father's death and the subsequent corporate bullshit. I wonder if she ever told Cade about Lake Aurora? It would be the perfect way to convince him to join Sandstorm (still annoyed that we never got to find out what they called themselves).

Cade saying he doesn't know whether to choke Roman or feed him soup makes me laugh out loud every time. And Roman just stands there and takes it, doesn't even get mad. 😭

Cade not wanting to stick around and help them catch Sandstorm also feels very believable - he was trying to stick it to Shepherd, not help make his country safer. Because why would he feel any obligation to help? The US justice system let the mining company squirm out of their obligations, and if his anger was strong enough for him to organise protests, and then to join Shepherd, that wouldn't go away just because he realised Shepherd was planning to kill innocent people.

I do feel like they missed an opportunity for Jane and Cade to talk. Yes, she says, 'We're on the same side - I killed Oscar' when she first subdues him, but they never followed up on that, and it's a shame. After all, if he and Markos were together (yes, you can argue that they had a brotherly relationship, but he said Markos made him whole, and by the next episode he's in, he has a husband, so I'm firmly on the gay relationship side of things), he'd feel gratitude for her avenging Markos' death. And since Jane said Cade tortured her, as part of her Sandstorm cover story, that would have put extra heat on Cade.

The similarities between what happened with Patterson and Borden this episode, and what happened with Jane and Oscar...it's just so sad. The burning building, both of them trying to bring their criminal exes in to face justice... Even the fact that Sandstorm had extra access/intel via Patterson and Jane. I don't blame Jane for wanting to reach out and connect with Patterson about it. 😭

Audrey and Rob are so good at portraying Reade and Zapata in this episode, too. Tasha being super worried is so believable, especially when she learns that Reade was using in the morning - her little stifled outburst is great. I also adore that she gave him the ultimatum, and that he doesn't think she'll go through with telling Kurt because 'you're my best friend'. And she does it because she IS his best friend. And she mentions that they're a family, and every time one of the team does that, it makes me so happy, because they ARE. ❤❤❤

And Patterson's distance from Reade is super sad, as well. After trying to mend bridges at the start of the episode, she kind of ended up treating him coldly. I guess it's probably how she treats her brother, too.

You have to love how the entire team (minus Jane, who wasn't really there long enough) were all pretty drunk when they got Nas' message that she'd been attacked, yet they all rolled into work anyway. It would have been a good question to make Weitz ask in 2x18 - 'Do you ever work cases while totally sozzled?'

But that scene at the start, where Jane joins them, and everyone is happy and laughing and toasting to Uncle Ricky - she must have been so full of joy at having that with her team again, after all the distance between them all at the start of the season. ❤ Even if the Oliver thing was on her mind.

And this show is way too good at emotional montages, with Patterson's tooth-pulling, Tasha tattling on Reade, Roman settling down in his comfy bed with a book, and Jane and Oliver getting tranq-ed.

As cock-blocks go, I don't think the writers ever got more extreme than this. At least it wasn't a Jeller interruption, I guess. XD