#ITS SO IMPORTANT TO HIS CHARACTER MAB

[friendlygirlswag]

still cannot believe vladislav "the poker" wwdits is canonically sixteen years old. and i’m supposed to be Normal about that

[penroseparticle]

Penrose Song of the Day Day 42: Queen Mab from Bare

Do you like Musicals? Do you enjoy feelings? You might not be alone! Theatre kids are ravenously waiting in the wings (heh) to discuss their favorite version of a cast recording or what shows they've seen live.

I don't want you to read this one, sorry. This one was just for me.

There are countless, countless musicals out there. Some you've heard of, some you know from pop culture. You will form opinions that no one agrees with, and care about things no one else does. Here are a few opinions with no source whatsoever, haha what are you talking about: Les Mis sucks, Company rules, and Bare is probably the most personal, important musical- so much so that talking about it to other people is not to be done. Because what if they're mean about it.

If you have never heard of Bare, a quick breakdown: Two catholic school boys are in love. One of them dies of a drug overdose. You are welcome to eyeroll right now, it's ok. When you're 18, things need to be very very direct, you see. Because you're a dumb idiot. Many people are tired of Christian nonsense as well. I am keeping this one, though. Sorry.

Is Bare good? Yes, ultimately. It does have some... shall we say, products of its time. It doesn't pretend it's not a musical but it's from that similar school to like, Spring Awakening, you know? It's tackling tough issues! There are guitar riffs!!!

What it is most successful at is that it's a musical ABOUT a musical being put on. The kiddos are doing a rendition of Romeo and Juliet (barf), and the framing story has some successful (and some slightly more opaque) parallels between characters. But the way the Shakespeare parts are sung. Something in there feels. Transformative? Inventive? It's not how it sounds spoken- hearing a Shakespeare play put on with love and care is an experience, let yourself have one as a treat- but rather it did a much more interesting reformatting into a musical theatre framework. Auditions is a great showcase of the work done by Jon and Damon. That was almost today's song. It's frenetic. It's got a strong backing drumline. It's got competition for the roles, people cutting over each other, it feels cutthroat somehow. Differing delivery styles, beautiful layering. Intercuts of comedy and drama. The little bit at the end where Diane Lee gets cast because her dad has a camcorder... so true to high school drama. Chefs Kiss.

It's a great early first act song- sets up the tensions between Peter and his Mom, Jason and Peter, Jason and Matt, Nadia and Ivy. It introduces the drugs. It has clever background vocals which sort of give away major plot points, which you think are just. The plot of Romeo and Juliet.

But it's Queen Mab today.

The soundtrack is... challenging. God I feel like I'm apologizing for liking it. Sorry mom! I'm bad at being proud anymore. I like it. I love it. I don't want to change a bit of it. I want other people to like it and love it, warts and all. I don't think you hear me. See me.

How resonant the whole musical is, especially with teens and young adults, can be explicated by how the characters don't feel authentically seen. Built in a lab for a youth's consumption. It's a pity that Bare never got a Broadway run (It probably doesn't deserve it- it's good not great. It was off-Broadway though!).

Queen Mab is when we finally see someone the clearest we ever have. It's the middle of the play, and they're up on stage. In front of god, their parents, the priest, the church, their friends, everyone- Jason, the main character and love interest, dies.

Something is wrong. discordant. Sinister. The song starts with a few signs things aren't right, a stutter step to the wrong line in the play- a whole back and forth cut over. A beat while the other character picks up the slack. Then the song ends with a dance scene where, well. He doesn't make it. The song is a little kind, actually. In bed asleep where they do dream things true. Said like a votive to the night. There is a peace in this song, somehow. Things are foregone, the death is all but guaranteed. He will die. But finally, finally he is at peace in this song, something Jason has never been the entire rest of the musical. Going through the motions, but nakedly. Openly. No longer trying to hide it. Waiting out one last struggle.

Interesting bit of theatre, putting the Queen Mab speech at the end of the musical. See, Mercutio relates Queen Mab visiting Romeo in his dreams as sort of a longwinded tirade, starting innocently enough, talking about dreaming about getting what you want, etc. But slowly, it gets darker and more sinister. Dreams leading to unfullfilment. Dreams of voilence. Ultimately Queen Mab like all fairies is vindictive and cruel, in his telling. It's a bit chilling and out of nowhere really. Perhaps a warning? But see, Romeo is dreaming and optimistic and thinks things will go well, and he's being cautioned by Mercutio that dreams are just dreams. They lie sometimes. Something ironic about the warning against dreams being the scene where Jason gives up on his dreams and. Dies. Something strange about an Act 1 foreshadowing being the punctuation of the Act 3 climax. Something tragic about the skeptic in the scene, Mercutio, being played by Peter, the one dreaming of being out and open and proud, and the one originally to speak "Dream things true" is the one who has given up on dreaming and is preparing for death.

I remember when I was younger and people thought that Bare, the title track, the track preceding this song, was a cute love song. Tragic, but romantic. Bare is a suicide note. Bare is Jason saying goodbye. And Peter doesn't know that. Jason is already gone by then and no one can tell.

There's something really interesting about how this song fits into the musical. And it's why it's my favorite song on the soundtrack.

Anyways, you could be dead right now. By, say, oh, I don't know. Perhaps a drug overdose.

Go listen to something you love.

[happymeishappylife]

Books I Read in 2023 (Part 3)

21. Doctor Who: Death Riders by Justin Richards and Heart of Stone by Trevor Baxendale

A two-for-one novel with two great stories featuring the Eleventh Doctor, Amy Pond, and Rory Williams. Out of the two I enjoyed the Death Riders more, but I also will read anything Justin Richards writes for Doctor Who because he just gets the series. The TARDIS team arrive on an asteroid that was previously used for mining, but now is hosting a carnival. A mystery unfolds as the roller coaster crew inches too close to the forbidden tunnels and a performers pet alien turns out to be controlling him to open the secret cave of his race, which the Doctor must fight with the local marching band. Heart of Stone finds the three back on Earth at a farm that is failing, but also suddenly finds itself covered in moon rock. When a moon rock monster attacks and turns the farmer to stone, his daughter has to learn why, only to find out her fiancé knows all about it since he works in the lab that was studying this mystery moon rock.

22. Changes by Jim Butcher (Book #12 of the Dresden Files)

I have said it again and again, and even though I know its coming, I’m not looking forward to Harry and Murphy getting together. But that didn’t mean I wanted Susan to come back with the news that Harry has a daughter! I guess Butcher felt the need to amp up the personal danger and of course the kidnapping of her by the Red Court does amp this up. It was also great to see all of Harry’s allies help him out, but there didn’t need to be the stakes that were present. Like I’m still sad Thomas has given into his darker nature and his accidental preying on Molly was disturbing. Still it was good to see Murphy with a sword (she can’t fight it forever), and I love that Sansa is still just as humorous as he always was. But now that Harry has become Mab’s White Knight, I’m worried about how that changes the series.

23. Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

Who doesn’t know the musical? Of course, it’s the most famous and longest running musical of all time, but the story behind it is a little bit more sinister as crazy as that is to believe. Sure the book and the musical actually do follow quite a bit of the story, but the biggest change is the role of the Persian and the Phantom’s history is morphed and changed by making Madame Ghery more important of a character in the musical. I frankly liked the Persian (though a slightly racist depiction) and the history that Phantom was a famous torturer to the Sultaness in Persia. It explains some of his devious traps. But it was fun to sing the music as I read along.

24. Heaven Cent by Piers Anthony (Book #11 of the Xanth Series)

Even the puns couldn’t save this novel. I always thought the perspective of a child tamed the sexism of Piers Anthony, but this novel instead of being “innocent” tiptoed a little too closely into the world of pedophilia for my liking and especially fresh after ready a novel of actual childhood sexual assault, the antics of these magical women kidnapping and hoping to eventually have children with a nine-year-old Dolph was not welcoming or entertaining, but creepy. I don’t know how much more of Xanth I can really endure because while the rest of the plot of the other companions were fine, these lines of creepiness are getting more and more uncomfortable as they come.

25. A Tale of Magic by Chris Colfer

I didn’t realize until the end of this novel that this was a spinoff prequel to the rest of Colfer’s magic series and it then made sense why so much of this novel was a warm hug and return to his writing. But even though we get to learn of the Fairy Godmother’s origins, Brystal Evergreen’s story is both heroic, tragic, and super relatable. I think a lot of that has to do with the way Colfer coded this book to relate so heavily and so strongly to the Queer community through the community building of the magic community. And to have characters that not only related to that like Xanthous was, but also just to the feeling of being out of place and not relating to the world was so welcoming, that it was hard not for me to relate and cheer for Brystal. Especially in the beginning as she rebelled against such an oppressive society against women.

26. Deeply Odd by Dean Koontz (Book #6 of the Odd Thomas series)

I really liked this book except I’m so confused on why it set up all these amazing and cool new elements right before the final book. Especially because as Odd even notes in this novel, technically these aren’t supposed to be released while he’s alive so why give us cool new characters and connections just to lose it all? Still, I loved meeting Mrs Fischer, her mysterious life, and incredible limosine as she takes Odd in to race to save children from death of a Rhinestone Cowboy. And the fact that she is part of a group of people who normally come across these dangers to fix them and ushers Odd in is heartwarming. But coming across the cultists who attacked Pico Mundo Mall and knowing that’s where we are going back to, its also setting up for the penultimate fight.

27. We Are Displaced by Malala Yousafzai

A very tragic collection of stories from Malala and other young women who have been displaced due to war, oppressive regime, and tragedy and what they are fighting to overcome. Not going to lie, this was very hard to read given everything going on with Palestine and it makes my heart ache that so many people don’t survive this story. But these young ladies courageous journeys and continued fight for education is heartwarming and I’m glad that they all have gathered together to make it better for girls and women around the world.

28. Mark of Athena by Rick Riordan (Book #3 in the Heroes of Olympus Series)

I finally caught up to all the fan art scenes I knew about with this book and while yes I knew how it ended, it was still as gut wrenching of a hit. Percabeth in Tartarus!!! But truly, this was fun mainly because I appreciated getting to be inside Annabeth’s head for a quarter of the novel. I relate a whole lot to her and how she went about her quest, letting her drive to complete it and save her friends, help her overcome her fear, it was great. But I don’t think I can judo flip my boyfriend lol. At least they are together. I also liked how ‘The Seven’ interacted and worked together. I was worried that having all of them would pull the story too much, but the way it balanced on each of them, including Frank, Hazel, and Jason, whose perspectives we don’t get to see was well done. Also, poor Nico. I, like Percy, am still mad at him for how he treated Percy, but I’m glad that didn’t stop him from being kind or rescuing him. Hopefully Nico will be able to help, but I want to see his perspective on things so hopefully soon I’ll get my wish.

29. Innocence by Dean Koontz (with a prelude short story called Wilderness)

I can definitely tell this came after Odd, because Addison can monologue like Odd and its kind of annoying, but because his mostly had to do with his history it fit well with the story. Honestly I had no idea where it could go given that it was about Addison, so well hidden from the world meeting a gothed out Gwyneth who has seen some shit, but also seems to know way more than she lets on. As they flee a creep of a museum curator, find these haunting marionettes, and try and rescue a comatose child we get more and more of Addison’s backstory, but up until the end we don’t understand why people can’t tolerate his appearance. But I’ll admit, not a fan of the reason at the end because it had religious undertones and it was just weird.

30. The Olympian Affair by Jim Butcher (Book #2 of the Cinder Spires)

I'll admit, I may have forgotten a good chunk of what happened in Book 1 because it took Butcher so long to get back to this series, but I am so glad he did. It was easy to get back into and meet all our favorite characters again. Plus the stakes in this novel were high and fascinating to follow. From the politics and drama of the duels in Olympia, to Bridget's and Benedict's journey to the surface to find a cat willing to take in new 'halflings' as Prince Rowl put it, there was never an end to the suspense and action. I loved all the different stories, including Espira, who I like a whole lot even though he was responsible for the events against Albion in the first book. But he is a man of honor, so I wonder what will happen to him on the way back to Aurora. Meanwhile, the fallout between Abigail and Alex is sad, though I understand Alex's fury completely because if Grimm wasn't as full of surprises as he is, I too would have been mad at her for having gotten them killed. I hope they will reconcile and I do respect Abigail's decision not to tell him about her pregnancy during that argument. I'm also excited for Bridget and Benedict and am glad they survived. But the one I'm scared for is Gwen, especially since she has to team up with Cavendish. Hopefully it doesn't take eight years to get book three to find out.

[gebtoons]

my contribution to the bapo timeline discourse bc i’m just gonna propose a timeline and will not be taking criticism <3 (under the cut bc this is gonna be a long post probably) 

ok disclaimer I am quite stupid, however I’m gonna use my knowledge from my own 12 years in american public high school and what little info I have about american boarding schools/catholic schools that I have from my friends lol. so. idk. 

i’m also gonna date songs/major events and i’m gonna be taking some “just trust me bro” liberties bc y’all are right it does NOT make that much sense. 

January 6: Epiphany; this is like an actual holiday lol. like its always on the sixth. idk its good that this is the starting point bc its an actual date yknow? For the purposes of this timeline were going with that its early in the week, so lets go with Monday idk

January 6-13: You and I, Role of a Lifetime; so we’re all kinda in agreement that this timeline (at least the beginning) only really makes sense if you and i/role of a lifetime aren’t like. a singular moment and are instead multiple days. so yeah, of this first week, this is like. monday-next sunday ish yknow. 

January 14: Auditions, Plain Jane Fatass; ok so having auditions for a spring musical right after kids get back from break actually makes perfect sense to me, like i can see it being like “ok take break to prepare so as soon as you come back we can have auditions so we can jump right into rehersals” yknow? and since the rave is clearly on a friday (”we’ll meet in tanya’s room on friday night”) so i’m going with the monday before.  

as for pjf, i know it doesn’t make a ton of sense for them to get a two week late birthday package their first few weeks back from school, but hear me out it makes sense. the implication throughout this entire show is that the twins have decently shitty parents. from bits of dialogue (in this song in particular lol) i’m kinda inferring their the “only concerned with how their kids make them look to others” kind of neglectful. so I don’t think it’s too outside the realm of possibility that they went away for the holidays, didn’t bring the twins, and instead mailed them a birthday package and having it show up two weeks late. realistically the timing of this isnt that important and the explicit “two week” time frame could’ve been an exaggeration on nadia’s part to mock her shit parents (idk its in her character) basically ppl are a little two fixated on this imo but anyway. moving on. 

January 18: Wonderland, A Quiet Night At Home, Rolling, Best Kept Secret; a very agreed upon point in the timeline. its the friday following the auditions. moving on. 

January 21: Confession; also very agreed upon. the monday following the rave. moving on again 

January 23: Portrait of a Girl; the date here is kinda arbitrary, but bc sister chantelle says “ok lets try to put yesterday’s rehearsal behind us” and i for the life of me cannot think of a scene she could be referring to (there’s none in the script either) that implies it wasn’t the same monday as confession (bc even in a boarding school i think holding extracurriculars that aren’t sports over the weekend (especially when they are no where near crunch time lol) is weird and not common) so i just picked a random day during the week

January 25: Birthday Bitch!, One Kiss, Are You There?; from matt’s line in wonderland, ivy’s birthday is a week after the rave. in my timeline that’s january 25th (an aquarius queen). 

btw given all grown up’s “17, how will i manage?” ivy is 16 during 17 at her party, which is strange given shes a high school senior and seniors are typically 17 during 18. so either a) she skipped a grade, not an unheard of thing. or b) shes not a senior, shes just a junior who hangs out with a bunch of seniors, which is also pretty common. and looking through the script i can’t find any mention that she is also a senior, other than yknow she graduates with them, but she isn’t mentioned during the class ranking scene? so idk not that it really matters just a fun detail 

February 3 (at night): 911 Emergency!; ok controversial. i know i like the joke about how its funny that peter having a weird dream when he was high prompted him to want to come out and really ruined his relationship with jason. BUT. i think the dream (despite it’s weirdness) would have a lot more meaning if it wasn’t the result of being really high, but if it was a dream he had like a week later as a result of a building sense of guilt/anxiety bc he told matt. also it fits better given later timeline things. (this timeline literally only exists if there are weird jumps in time that don’t make a ton of sense) (EDIT: I forgot one line about Jason crashing at ivys but fuck it forget that bitchass line this makes for more drama its staying this way)

February 4: Reputation Stain’d, Ever After; the next day following peter’s dream, idk what else to say, moving on. 

February 25-28: Spring; another jump! i’m sorry but the only way for this to make sense logistically is for there to be quite a few time jumps! however, i also think this one works bc i think it gives time for everything from around ivy’s party and peter and jason’s break up to stew emotionally. like obviously a musical only has so much time to tell a story so the audience cannot see every realistic beat, but honestly i think it makes the whole thing a little more dramatic™ if there’s space for everything to settle, and for ivy to come and apologize and such. also, the reason it’s multiple days is bc in the script, ivy is trying to study (presumably for some sort of midterm) while nadia is playing, so that probably takes place a few days before they move out, so before finals. but in the script, jason and peter are packing and peter is leaving, so that part of the song/staging takes place on the 28th. yes, that’s weird, but we are clearly thinking more about the logistics of this school than the writers were so. 

March 1: One; assuming st. cecilia’s works kinda like boarding schools here, they probably do staggered move out/move in, just bc that would be a lot to have people coming and going at once so it makes sense that peter left the day before, while jason and ivy are leaving the next day. also, given that peter is trying to call jason while he and ivy are banging, it’s probably been a hot minute since the actual break up, since peter was clearly very hurt by the whole thing, it would make sense (at least to me) that peter would reach out a month ish later, rather than like a few days later (you have to make so many assumptions to make this timeline work granted they aren’t super out there assumptions but still this is annoying) 

March 1-25: Spring Break. the coworkers I have who are in boarding school work over their school breaks, which are longer than the public school breaks (which are only a week) so i put their spring break at 3 weeks. it makes sense, and it makes the later part of the timeline make sense. 

I know i’m already halfway through this, but to me it makes sense for their to be quite a few time jumps in the story bc its a musical. they cannot show every day. there are a lot of other shows (particularly shows set in high schools) that are set over a whole school year, but if you just look at the events of the story that doesn’t make sense, so you have to imply that obviously they are not showing every little detail. moving on. 

March 25: Wedding Bells, In The Hallway, Touch My Soul; peter wakes up from his nightmare in the church, so im assuming he fell asleep in church (like he almost did during epiphany). also it makes sense that class ranks are announced in late march-early april, I know my school announced ours in like, the first week or so of april? so yeah. moving on.

(from this point on i was giving myself a headache trying to make it make sense so its all weird from here!!)

April 4: See Me, Warning; the date doesn’t really matter here, I picked a random day in early april. the script said peter is calling from him and jason’s old dorm room, as he was picking up the last of his things, so he clearly made the roommate switch after school started (makes sense to me). 

April 15-20 (approximately): Ivy finds out she’s pregnant. look google tells me on average people find out they are pregnant around 5-7 weeks after conception. i went with around 7 just so this timeline makes a tiny bit more sense given the later stuff, so yeah here we go. 

May 4: Pilgrim’s Hands, God Don’t Make No Trash, All Grown Up, Promise, Once Upon A Time, Cross; a rough night for our heroes. so given sister chantelle saying “again? wonderful.” and nadia saying “i can’t believe you missed rehearsal again”, clearly ivy has been missing quite a few rehearsals, so for dramas sake maybe from when she found out she was pregnant? also i know i’ve been saying they wouldn’t have rehearsals on weekends, and given my weird timeline this would be a saturday, but its tech week so i’ll allow it. 

May 5: Two Households, Bare, Queen Mab, A Glooming Peace; pretty self explanatory, and it makes sense to have the spring play in early may. rip jason. 

May 11: Absolution; the day before graduation peter goes to confront the priest. gives him a small amount of time to start processing, and it makes sense it would be the night before, at least to me. 

May 12: No Voice; i fucking hate this. “peter, we graduate next sunday” i hate that stupid fucking line. do you know that this timeline literally would be fine if it weren’t for that stupid fucking line? bc then, the school play would be in early may and graduation could be in late may-early june (when most high schools hold graduation) but no. keeping with continuity, they have to graduate the sunday following the school play. “peter we graduate in a month, are you really never gonna talk to me again?” would have been fine. but no, now we have beef. literally everything else about the end of this timeline being kinda weird would work itself out, except for the fucking graduation. god damn. anyway, may 12th, the graduate on may 12th which is really fucking weird bc of that one fucking line. whatever. i didn’t write the damn thing bc if i did i wouldn’t have written that fucking line. (i’ve been at this for over an hour and a half, so i’m a tad annoyed, can you tell?) 

anyway, that’s it. that’s my long as hell proposed bare timeline. if there’s anything glaringly wrong with it i don’t care bc this timeline literally cannot make sense. but honestly, now that i think about the Popular Tween High Schooler Musicals (heathers, bmc, deh) the timelines of those (especially heathers and bmc) don’t make tons of sense either. that’s just the way it is, that’s the way its gonna be. and we have to live with it. 

this post is so long it is actually slowing down my laptop as i type it

[tibalt-the-fineblooded]

Battle Ground Spoilers

Ok. It’s been about a day since I finished the latest Dresden Files book and I think I’ve managed to process everything. And there’s a lot to go over.

First and foremost, it was the second half of a story. I understand why Peace Talks and Battle Ground were split, there was too much for a single book. That doesn’t mean there isn’t any fat that could have been chewed off, but that’s for later.

The book is revolving around Harry. Literally. That’s the series, Harry and his issues. But this book is his biggest failings and loses all stacked together in a horrible mess that he couldn’t fix. What happened in this story, between PT and BG, is worse on Harry than when he ended the Red Court and killed Susan. But it also gives a new light on some other major characters as well.

So much happened for Harry. So much. But what happened to him was fall out from what happened to everyone around him. He got a Banner, a Banner of Will that unites people under a cause. That’s amazing. And then the worst thing that could have happened with a power like that happened. He felt the people following him die. He felt what caused their deaths. Hundreds of people died with him feeling how they died. That’s going to leave psychic scars of the likes he’s never seen before. And it made him think about what it’s like to be a Ruler. To be a Queen. That what he felt is very likely what Mab feels. That’s huge.

-Thomas is the next best thing to 6 feet under. And Harry has hardly mentioned it. Aside from not mentioning it, he’s barely thought about it. This is nothing new from Harry. Thomas is family, but so is Ebenezer. Which makes the fall out between the Harry and his grandfather worse. BUT Harry also doesn’t really have this in the forefront of his mind. He’s got a city to save and his last two relatives are pulling away rapidly and maybe forever. He’s not thinking about it for the same reason he avoided Thomas when he came back from his little trip to the Other Side in Ghost Story. He’s avoiding facing the truth. Thomas is very likely going to die and Ebenezer wants him dead. The trauma that’s followed him since the day his dad died is right there, knocking on the door, waiting to be let in. It’s also only been a few hours. Hopefully we’ll see how Harry deals with this is the next book, like how the Alphas told him off for spending nearly a year in isolation after Susan skipped town.

-Waldo Butters shone like a star. He was front and center, like the day he rode Sue the T-Rex. The newest Knight of the Cross played a huge part as the symbol of Faith. Because that’s what he is when he wields that broken hilt, the symbol of Faith. Sanya is the symbol of Hope. Michael was the symbol of Love. But Faith was the important factor here. Because Butter’s shouldn’t have been able to keep up with Harry or Sanya with the training he’s had. But then again, Murphy shouldn’t have been able to keep up during the battle with the Red’s. The Sword’s and the Lord have a way of putting the Knights where they need to be and when, but they are mortal men with mortal body’s fighting monsters. They need help, and their Faith, Hope and Love grant them this. So long as the cause is Just, the Sword will not waver, and neither shall it’s weilder. The Knights have to be able to keep up if they are to be where they are needed, especially when they need to be in arms reach of the Winter Knight.

-Marcone is the host to a fallen angel. Huge twist. Huge insane twist. How long has it been since he took up the coin? Nic has made it apparent that he could tell who had members of the Fallen inside their heads, even when Lash wasn’t in Harry’s head he probably sensed Bonea instead. So was it after Skin Games? Before? When????? But damned if the reveal wasn’t amazing. Was this the best of ideas for Marcone? Who knows. He refused to work for Nic and found, seemingly like Harry had with Lasciel, a Fallen with its own plans.

-Murphy. Died. She killed a fire giant. With a BAZOOKA. And then Rudolph the shit stained sack of useless meat shot her in the neck. He refused to see what the world really was. And. He. Shot. Karrin. In. The. Neck. I don’t care that he’s a coward and that he panicked and fired the shot. I care about that fact that Karrin Murphy deserves better. I care about the fact that Butters and Sanya shouldn’t have been there. Harry SHOULD have been allowed to kill Rudolph. But Jim Butcher killed Karrin Murphy with a bullet from the gun of a character the entire fandom has HATED since day one. Rudolph deserves nothing but the worst fate possible and I will be FURIOUS if he survives to the end of the series. Murphy deserves better. She should have lived and gotten to watch Harry beat Ethniu. Lived to help raise Maggie. Karrin Murphy died halfway through the book when she should have lived.

-Harry got kicked out of the White Council. Big shock. Honestly surprised it took this long. I was confused as to why he even wanted back in after Ghost Story. They weren’t a layer of protect for him. They never had been and never would be. Being the Winter Knight is more of a safety net that the Council for Harry. Harry has done nothing but his best for the Council and they don’t care. They fear him. They fear the Starborn, whatever that title means. “Vague immunity from the influence of Outsiders.” Drakul, Harry and Listen. That’s 3. It feels like it’s some weird “Planets are aligned” bullshit that should be easy to predict. Why isn’t the Council just, I don’t know, only having children that are Starborn? They seem like the sort of shit bags that wouldn’t blink at that. It seems plausible that the higher ups know exactly how to make a Starborn and have the knowledge to mass produce them. But no. We still don’t know what it entails. And Harry’s in the dark and an outlaw. Carlos is just another member now. Harry hasn’t been able to properly talk to him for years it seems because they have acted like friends in a while. Hell it even seems like Carlos was willing and wanting to just dump evidence against Harry. Given Carlos’ comment on the Law, it now makes sense as to why the Council has had so much trouble with necromancers. They probably still think of zombies as humans, if the troops the Fomor used counted enough as human to be used against Harry. The White Council can choke and die on its hypocrisy. It doesn’t matter that Harry sits at the table full of monsters. He’s always put the lives of the innocent before his own and the Council doesn’t give a shit about any of the good he did for them. The White Council will collapse and the Black Council won’t break a sweat doing it.

Justine is possessed by He Who Walks Beside. She’s been possessed for years. Ever since Thomas almost ate her soul to heal himself from the brink of death. It’s been blackmailing Thomas for years and this push was to break a foundation of Something. To crack a cog in the wheels of fate or fray the red string of destiny. Who knows. We don’t.

That’s all I got. Did I enjoy the book? Hell yeah. But I’m still passed as hell.

[365days365movies]

May 9, 2021: A.I. Artificial Intelligence (2001) (Recap: Part Two)

So, this is an adaptation of Pinocchio, right?

I mean...yeah, it definitely is. It’s a story about an artificial boy, brought to life and given to a parent to raise, learning lessons about humanity all along the way. Hell, they use the Collodi story as an element of the plot, so there’s no way it isn’t an adaptation of the original story. Here, I’ll break it down.

First, he’s given life by Hobby, who represents both his creator and the one who gives the artificial boy life. In other words, he’s a portmanteau of two characters: the Blue Fairy and Geppetto. The latter created him, while the former gives him life. Really, I’d argue that he’s more of the Blue Fairy.

So, who’s Geppetto? Obviously, Monica. She’s the (semi) loving parent that ACTUALLY makes David her son...literally. Remember the Winter Soldier awakening sequence? Monica is a flawed parent who obviously doesn’t quite know how to care for the little artificial boy, similar to how Geppetto is normally portrayed. And, like him, she never gets to teach her new son about the world before releasing him into it.

Of course, Geppetto didn’t physically abandon Pinocchio in the woods, but whatever. At least this Pinocchio’s been left with his Jiminy Cricket. Unlike the traditional version, though, this one is fuzzy.

Teddy, the stuffed bear supertoy, is clearly meant to be Jiminy Cricket, the conscience meant to guide David along his way, and along his journey. He subtly guides David, giving him advice that he sometimes ignores. And, given that David probably wasn’t built with a conscience, it makes sense to give him an internal one. Speaking of, let’s talk about David, because this simile might actually be more important than one would think in understanding this film.

David, of course, is creepy as FUCK. He’s trying hard to be a real boy that his mother can accept, but he’s so goddamn creepy. And initially, I thought that this might just be bad acting or direction. But then, I walked away for a little bit, and I realized something: what if that’s on purpose? Because here’s the thing: David isn’t real. And neither is Pinocchio, but with Pinocchio, you KNOW that.

Pinocchio is, after all, a puppet. And that point is obvious visually, both in the basically flawless Disney film, and in the original book. But David is, after all, played by an ACTUAL real boy, and therefore appears real to the audience. So, how to make him appear artificial? By emphasizing the fact that David’s behavior and actions are not natural. They are programmed and artificial. And so, when the journey begins, David hasn’t yet learned to be a real boy. And therefore, he isn’t yet real. And now, of course, he’s on the journey not only to become a real boy, but also to earn that chance. Just like Pinocchio.

But we’re only one-third through this film, and a LOT more happens in the story of Pinocchio. I’m not suggesting that this movie perfectly follows the book or Disney film by any means, but it’s definitely following some of its structure. And if Pinocchio is known for anything, it’s known for its most iconic villains and adversaries. I’m talking these guys:

And I’m...looking forward to seeing how these guys are adapted? Wait, wait, wait, hold on...I railed HARD against Act One (which you can read right here), whose writing and plot I still think were poorly thought out. But, after this mental recontextualization...am I actually enjoying this movie?

Shit, maybe. Thinking about it in these terms actually helps. OK, Kubrick, Spielberg...hit me with your best shot.

Recap (2/3)

With Act Two, enter Gigolo Joe (Jude Law). Yes. Really.

Gigolo Joe is a “lover Mecha”, a model built specifically for sexual gratification. Joe’s an interesting case, as he’s obviously built to be quite seductive, in a physical and a sensual manner. He’s been hired by a woman trying to get away from her abusive husband, and proceeds to woo her with sweet nothings, easing her discomfort with the idea of sleeping with a Mecha. And I’m gonna be honest: Joe is a CHARMING motherfucker, smooth and slick as a robot ought to be, with the ability to change his appearance and voice to please his customers.

And as I’m watching him, trying to figure out if he’s the Fox or the Cat, or both combined, he’s suddenly framed for murder by the jealous husband of one of his clients! Shit! Understanding exactly how fucked he is, he takes the necessary precautions and removes his identification chip. I’m not entirely sure who he is, but I’m interested in revisiting that plot, that’s for sure.

David, meanwhile, is wandering around in the woods, where he comes up with the idea to find the Blue Fairy from Pinocchio, who will surely turn him into a real boy. But while wandering through the woods, what does he find but another group of robots like himself, scavenging from parts that’ve been dumped in the woods. And the CGI here is absolutely fantastic looking, as the robots outfit themselves with technology.

Also stumbling upon this display is Joe, on the run. But as they all appear in the same place, the moon suddenly rises. And it’s gorgeous.

This is not the Moon, but a gorgeous hot-air balloon from something called the Flesh Fair. With men on the ground on specialized motorcycles called “Hounds”, and with an eye-in-the-sky belonging to commander Lord Johnson-Johnson (Brendan Gleeson). He and his men hunt down Mecha to take them to the Flesh Fair, where robots are destroyed for the sport of human observers.

They chase down and capture all of the robots assembled, including David, Joe, and THIS spectacular special effect.

Yeah, holy shit, that’s amazing.

Anyway, it’s here that David loses his conscience, as Teddy falls out, only to be brought to the Flesh Fair and taken as a lost toy, placed in the lost-and-found. And, now that we’re here, it’s time we acknowledge what this appears to be: Stromboli’s Circus.

Given the fact that the “puppet show” is clearly replaced by the abuse and destruction of robots (including one weirdly resembling and voiced by Chris fucking Rock of all people), and that it has a ringmaster in the form of Johnson-Johnson, this is definitely meant to be a replacement for Stromboli’s puppet show. Albeit, one colored by anti-Mecha racism, but whatever.

A little girl wanders up to the cage where David’s kept, and confuses him for a human child. She goes to her father, who’s astonished by the existence of a robot child, and he goes to Johnson-Johnson, who gives not a single shit, and brings him up to be destroyed with the rest in the flesh fair. Dude REALLY doesn’t like robots. David, understandably scared, has his Damage Avoidance System kick in, and he grabs onto Gigolo Joe for safety, dragging him along to their deaths.

As he’s about to be melted by concentrated acid in front of a crowd (all of whom are affected by seeing a child be melted, robot or not), David cries out in fear. This leads to the audience STRAIGHT-UP REBELLING, as they refuse to believe that David is anything but human. He immediately takes off, alongside Gigolo Joe and Teddy.

We head back to Cybertronics, where it’s revealed that David is actually a facsimile for Hobby’s departed son. Which is...weird. Real talk, this is extraordinarily odd, and Hobby clearly has some massive issues he needs to figure out. In the forest, Hobby and Joe get to know each other. He recommends getting to Rouge City to find the Blue Fairy, whose location they will ask for from a “Dr. Know”, as there is nothing he doesn’t.

Also, Jude Law’s giving a fuckin’ soliloquy about robot prostitution right now, and I’m not gonna lie to you; I can dig it. It’s a Queen Mab speech about gettin’ down on that robodick, and it’s actually quite entertaining. And with that, we not only head to Rouge City, but we also discover who Joe is meant to represent. If Rogue City is Pleasure Island (and it OBVIOUSLY is), Gigolo Joe is meant to be both the Fox (AKA Honest John, AKA J. Worthington Foulfellow), AND Lampwick. Neat! Anyway, Rouge City...

...is not even a little subtle, goddamn. It’s literally a sex-island. And yet, once there, David is introduced to Dr. Know (Robin Williams), a kiosk where you pay for information, which makes me appreciate Wikipedia so goddamn much. To the good Doctor, they ask for the location of the Blue Fairy. And by accurately using keywords (a skill under-appreciated in Google Searches), they get an eerie reading of Hobby’s book, beginning with a Yeats poem.

With this information, they discover that Hobby (and the secret to David becoming a real boy) is at the end of the world, in a place called “Man-hattan”. David is filled with new determination, but Gigolo isn’t quite sure if this is real. David fights back, saying that his mother loves him and that the Blue Fairy must become real. But Joe insists that she likely did not love him, and simply liked how she made him feel. And while David refuses this idea outright...he’s almost certainly correct.

They go outside, and Joe is about to be taken away by the police, presumably for that murdered woman. However, the helicopter they came in is taken by David, who plans to use it to get to Manhattan. Joe escapes and joins him, and the two head to Manhattan.

End Act Two. See you in Act Three!

[sailorsaigas]

“Peace Talks” -- Ramblings About a Big Character Revelation

Spoilers after the drop

Mab is/was Morgana Le Fay of Arturian legend.

How is this important?

Well, in most versions of the Arturian legend, Merlin falls for Arthur’s half-sister Morgana after a period of mentoring her in the ways of magic, before she commits a betrayal that ultimately leads to his “death/imprisonment,” as well as the conception of Mordred, Arthur’s illegitimate son and a dark reflection of himself (Mirror Mirror, anyone?).

If we take a little of what we know about that legend, and apply it to what we have seen throughout the Dresden Files so far (and what little we have been told of possible future events), we come to realize that Harry’s life is full of ‘coincidental’ repeats of Arturian legend.

Harry Dresden was born to a woman with the title of ‘Le Fay.’ He is young for a wizard (a mere 40-ish compared to the over 300 he could possibly become), yet has already made massive strides in his magical capabilities despite his youth, is still chock full of untapped potential, can trace his line of apprenticeship back to Merlin, has served as a guardian for all three of the holy swords wielded by the Knights of the Cross (which includes Excalibur), has been exposed to all manner of supernatural entities and threats (including the Knights of the Blackened Denarius, and at least one religion’s version of Hell), has become the Warden of Demonreach, is a Starborn, and he trained an apprentice who is/was not only in love with him, but also partly responsible for his “death/imprisonment,” and who eventually became one of the Queens of Faerie.

Coincidence? I think not. Harry Dresden may as well have a sign taped to his back saying “Second Coming of Merlin.” XD

I don’t really know what else to add at this point, cuz it is past midnight and my mind is all a-jumble.

Oh! The revelation of Mab’s past mortal identity does also would go a long way toward explaining why the Leanansidhe would have thought Morgana’s athame a fitting gift/tool with which to acquire power enough to potentially challenge Mab. Something like that might still have had some bit of power over Mab, some bit of influence linked to its connection to her mortal past life.

Plz share your thoughts, deductions and theories with me. I crave them. ^_^

[antihero-writings]

Hearts in Cages

Fandom: Muted (Webtoon)

(Spoilers for some of the more recent chapters!!)

Fic Summary: What does it feel like to have a part of you caged and tortured? Avaline knows this feeling all too well. But maybe Raum can help end the cycle...or at least alleviate the pain.

Character Focus: Avaline Severin, Raum, Beau, and Athalie Severin--(mentioned).

Notes: I wrote this for Mabs Drawlloween club prompt 6: "Familiar". I'll put a link to the prompt list in a reblog!

I'm trying something new with this prompt! For a long time I've wanted to try and do a sort of no-edit-run thing, where I write a fic and post it within the same day. I thought an inktober prompt or two would be a great way to try it out!

I have a couple Inktober lists saved to choose from, and when I saw "Familiar" I thought of Muted! I've been wanting to write about Raum especially for a while so I thought this'd be a great one!

I was expecting forcing myself to post in the same day as writing to be impossible, but this ended up being super fun!

If you have any other ideas for me based off of any inktober prompts, don't hesistate to send me prompts!! I'll probably post the lists I've saved here at some point for you guys to send me prompts from!!

If you enjoyed this fic, I'd really really appreciate if you'd say so in a comment, and/or reblog!!

Hearts in Cages:

The Queen of Hearts steps down the stone stairs in a black dress, and a glistening crown, like blades growing out of her head, a vulture perched on her shoulder. Her hair is grey, her expression immutable. That, and the malevolence betrayed by the lines of her face, makes her look like a much older woman than she actually is.

Her footfalls sound rhythmically against the stones as she descends deeper into the dungeon, passing sconces; tongues of red fire blazing within them, which dance in her imperceptible eyes.

When she reaches the dungeon there are no cells, no prisoners reaching their hands through the bars, begging for mercy.

It is a single room, small, and the walls are shelves, lined with boxes emanating faint light from their locked lids.

She stalks up to one side, finding one amongst the many. It’s nothing special, in look or placement within the rest.

She glares down upon the name marked on the front:

“Avaline.”

Her expression barely changes but…There is such distain on her face.

The vulture is holding a ring of keys in his mouth, and at this moment he lowers his head, offering them to her.

It takes her too long to find the right one. Once she does she slides it into the lock.

After the click, she returns the key to the ring and raises her hands—boney and pale, always too cold—and lifts the lid.

The box is full of a foul-smelling, red liquid. Without hesitation the queen reaches her hands into the blood and pulls out—

Inside the box, inside all the boxes, is a heart. A heart, thumping, glowing slightly. It begins to thump faster as she holds it—(and far away a lonely girl grimaces and turns over in her sleep)—

The worst part is that, upon Athalie’s ever-emotionless face, a smile ruptures as she squeezes.

Avaline wasn’t quite sure what was real when she opened her eyes, all she knew was pain; pain radiating through her body, sharp and unassailable. A crow was screeching in the other room, and she could almost feel her mother’s cold hands.

She didn’t know how long it went on before it subsided, and even when it did, she remained, shaking on the floor.

She put a hand on her face, air a burden to her lungs, searing the back of her throat.

Avaline told Camille she was lucky. That keeping her familiar locked in a cage for years was mild compared to having him locked away on top of a blood sigil.

Her words were dull and blank…along with the rest of her.

Beneath all that…she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry.

She wanted to stand up, shove her chair back and shriek:

Do you know what it’s like?! Do you know what it’s like to have a part of you ripped away?! Stripped away by someone you care about?! To have something you can’t live without trapped in a cage?! To have that piece of you tortured again and again?! Do you know what I’ve been going though?! No, you don’t, do you?! You only care about yourself!

She may not quite mean the last few sentences…but she wanted to shout them all the same.

What did it feel like? Well…it felt a little like withdrawals from a drug your quite fond of…and a lot like being beaten with a closed fist.

What did she do wrong? Why was she being punished for Camille’s disobedience?

Why couldn’t Camille just come home? It was so simple. Everything would go back to normal. And maybe normal wasn’t quite happy…but at least it wasn’t this.

Was mom right? Did Camille never care about her? Did she only tolerate her? Was she just a nuisance everyone was putting up with? A mosquito sucking the life out of everyone around her so she could breathe?

Avaline Severin. You are a vision. You do not need to make a wish with me in order to find love.

She put her hands on the sides of her head.

Damn him too. Damn him for making her believe there was hope, that she was anything more than worthless, when she should just be put out of her misery, just face the truth.

She tried not to cry. Crying was for wimps, who couldn’t handle the world, and other assorted lowlifes.

…She wanted it. She craved tears, emotion. She craved them so much, sometimes, when she was alone, the cracks in the vase just broke.

But she didn’t get to cry and yell and make them listen. She didn’t get to stay away and sort all this out on her own. She didn’t get to make grand displays of defiance. She didn’t get to break down, and take down the world with her, like Camille did. She had to stay, and play, and get hurt, over and over, for everyone else’s indiscretions…because she was the only one close enough for her mom to take it out on.

Like she wasn’t even a thing herself; just a punching bag, a mirror, for everyone else to bounce off of.

She was so, so tired.

So tired from getting punched over and over.

Mom didn’t have to hurt Beau just to get to her, did she? He didn’t do anything wrong. If she was going to hurt her, why couldn’t she just do it directly?

To say she missed him couldn’t cover it.

Would one say they missed their arm if it was wrenched out of its socket? Would one say they missed their heart if it was ripped out of their chest?

She hated how far he was from her…but she hated more how close he was. Just down the hall…worlds apart.

(Just like Camille.)

And she couldn’t do anything to help, or be with, either of them.

The pain that ran through her every time her mother put her hands on the sigil…

She couldn’t believe her mother would do this.

Her mother certainly wasn’t the kindest, most nurturing people out there…that much was obvious. But Avaline never thought of her as cruel. Each time a thought too malicious ran through her, she tempered it by telling herself her mother was doing this all out of love. She told herself that she was right, tradition was important after all. That maybe they deserved all this.

And yet, on nights like this, waking or sleeping, she wondered if the Red Queen wrenched people’s hearts out of their chests, and put them in boxes in her dungeon, and, when her subjects misbehaved, calmly walked down the stairs, opened the boxes, and relished as she squeezed.

Because she was guessing that that would feel more than a little like this.

******

The door creaked as Raum stepped into Athalie’s office.

“Mom, you’re back!” A child bounced happily into the room, blonde hair flickering.“Look, look!”

Athalie didn’t turn around.

“Avaline.” The word was cold, yet something of a growl in her throat. “What have I told you about—”

Athalie turned around just enough to catch a glimpse, and now froze, her eyes shimmering with horror and distain.

“WHAT. DID YOU DO. TO YOUR HAIR?!” The shriek was like—(what are they called? Oh, yes!)—microphone feedback.

Raum grimaced appropriately, his ears drooping.

“Your blood. You bodies. Your soul. It doesn’t matter what a demon requires when it comes to securing the future of our family. You will give them to them without hesitation. So long as it is a fair price for what you have wished for.”

How was it possible to get everything so wrong? What wish could possibly equal the price of a human soul?

And they call me a demon.

Even the the air in here tasted bitter.

Though Athalie was gone at the moment, the traces of her may never leave the room.

“Who…there?” Came a weak caw from the other side of the room.

He spun around to see the object of his quest: a crow in a cage.

Beau wasn’t even standing; he was laying down on the table in the cage, his wings wrapped around himself, trembling, his red eyes doleful. There were some patches where his feathers were thin.

Raum’s face drooped even further.

How could she do this to her own daughter?

Well, he knew how—he’d watched the scenes play out—yet he still couldn’t believe the cruelty of some humans at times.

Was it so hard to love one’s daughter?

He took a step closer.

“I did it! A crow! Just like Matriarch Vanessa!”

Another, and the crow buried his beak in his feathers, sure he was going to get hurt again.

The crow buried his face in Avaline’s chest as the grey lady yelled, and the red girl’s woodpecker was taken away.

Raum knelt down in front of the cage, putting his hand on the table—(careful not to touch the blood sigil).

“Well, hello there.” Raum said softly. “You must be Beau.”

The crow peeked an eye out from behind his wing to look at him. Raum tried to smile, though his brow was still creased, his ears still down.

“My name is Raum. You may have noticed I’m a demon too.” He smiled more genuinely. “Avaline summoned me.”

He began to lift his head.

Beau snuggled up to Avaline, and she was warm, and gentle, and he would never leave her side.

“A-Avaline?”

“Yes. I’m here to rescue you, as per her wish.”

“R-Rescue?” His head was fully lifted now.

Raum snapped his fingers and the crow was in his hand.

“Rescue.” He confirmed.

Beau looked around at his new surroundings, without the bars surrounding his view, then up at Raum with big eyes, cocking his head to the side, unsure.

“I promise I don’t eat crows.” Raum put a finger to his chin. “I feel like that’s cannibalism in your case, so, yeah, I won’t be doing that.

“You’ll be hanging out with me for a little while.” He petted Beau’s head with the back of his finger. “I hope it won’t be too boring. In fact, we might even have fun together.” His ears perked up.

Beau shifted, beginning to stand up on his palm, his head cocking to one side, then the other, as his scrutinized Raum’s face.

The crow cast his gaze at the door.

“Avaline.” He cawed softly. “Avaline hurt.”

Raum’s expression fell.

“You rescue Avaline too?”

“I want to…But she only wished for me to free you, and for the truth.”

He hung his head.

“Want to help.”

“Me too. But we’re doing what we can. You are helping, Beau. More than anything what Avaline needs right now is friends like you, who care about her. She will feel much much better once you’re okay.”

Beau looked back at other demon, the uncertainty beginning to fade from his eyes.

“I promise, no one’s going to hurt you on my watch…Nor Avaline, as much as I can help it.”

[thefairefolk-rp]

Welcome to TFF, Bri! Your application for Orla Fang has been accepted!

OOC INFORMATION:

Name/Nickname:

Bri

Age:

22

Pronouns:

She/hers

Timezone:

EST

Activity and Availability (Please answer in words as well as rating your availability from 1-10):

I am a relatively slow writer and I work full-time, but I’ve been looking for a way to write in community. This will definitely be a priority for me! So I’d say my availability will be at least 6/10. I’m totally new to rps and tumblr, so it might take me a while to get up to speed on … literally everything. But I’ll get there!

IC INFORMATION:

Desired Character:

Orla Fang

Second Choice Character:

Ingrid Faolan

What made you choose this character?:

Orla caught my interest because of her many contradictions. I really love the idea of a character who is so set on a goal, but has increasing doubts about it. Who is she when the goal is done? If the goal is never accomplished? Right now, in the middle of striving for it? She allows herself so little, but that’s unsustainable (even if she’s been at it her whole life). That’s great ground for a growth arc.

She’s definitely going to be haunted by a lot of her father’s behavior, and have some unprocessed feelings about whether his torment was self-inflicted, or even merited. Due to her father’s disgrace, she has lived 600 years in a place she was taught not to call home, while her “real” home remains out of reach. Now, she’s in a Clan where family means very little, but it’s her driving value! I’m also excited to write all the little clashes and complements that come out of her taste for the fancy things of nobility and her more rugged, battle-ready life in the Wildlands.

Her goal might be to return to the Seelie court in favor, but her loyalty is not to the Seelie court — it’s to her family, and her late father. Add in the recent rocky reputation of good Queen Mab and the fact that the Wolf Clan allied with the Unseelie in the war, and Orla could really ally with anyone.

I also love the slight parallel between her and Luna Crow, made all the better for the blackmail dynamic between them. Both are pretending to be someone they’re not, and living in realities they only tentatively accept. I saw that Luna isn’t taken right now, but that’s still an exciting direction for the future!

Her aesthetic also really interested me. In keeping with some of the advice I read in a blitz of rp-101 articles, I’ve started a pinterest board and playlist for inspiration. Links here :)

Pinterest board: https://www.pinterest.com/brialikescheese/orla/

Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ralXJE5Uyo3D1YbfbxwgI?si=Z8btNQVVSDyIPIBFKIUXXw

Are there any changes you would like to make?:

Nope!

Questions/Comments:

Do you have any more resources available or examples of gif chatting?

What if I can’t find a lot of gifs/images of my face claim?

Do you recommend looking through other characters’ blogs to get a sense of how people start and continue plot threads? That seems really intimidating to me! Also, I don’t exactly know the ins and outs of reblogging and replying. But I’ll get there.

If I say something in my para that isn’t true (contradicted by earlier things) or not super convenient to future storytelling, will somebody tell me, and will I be able to edit it?

If my application is accepted, should I wait until the current event is over to kind of leap in? Starting cold intimidates me too. Are there any guidelines, recommendations, or examples for a starter?

Is it common practice for people in this rp to plot or worldbuild together?  I guess I’m trying to gauge the degree to which people prefer to plan out a detail or respond to it directly in the text. I’m sure it depends on personal preference, timing, and the importance of the detail too.

Is it okay to create random NPC characters to facilitate scenes in (self)paras? I’ve seen people mention unnamed guards etc., but what about recurring minor named characters?

I’ve seen xkit around a lot. Do you recommend that?

Writing Sample (Must be 300 words or more, third person limited, in the character you’re auditioning for’s point of view):

Orla ran a hand over the braids coiled at her neck, fingers catching on jeweled pins. One came loose. She turned it over in her palm — a silver branch twined around sapphires and diamonds. In the dim light of the carriage, its glittering gems seemed to laugh at her misfortune. Once again, she’d left the Seelie court with little more than petty gossip to show for it. No matter. She would return.

The carriage pitched on the cobblestones, growing uneven as they left Wisteria behind. Orla watched the gold arches and shimmering lanterns give way to thorn thickets and thin creeks at the edge of the Wildlands. Soon, these too would vanish, replaced by mountains, rolling mist, and ever-taller pines.

Until then, Orla was left to dwell on the city she was promised.

Orla passed the silver pin wordlessly to Sionnach, who sprawled beside her in comfortable silence. Sionnach slipped the pin into a leather pouch. She would know its proper place in Orla’s room, and see that it returned there.

“I will be late to the fires tonight,” Orla said.

“Of course,” Sionnach replied, but raised a brow. “I hope not too late. Your sparring partners need to keep their skills sharp.”

“Not too late,” Orla agreed.

“Good. You promised me a spar, remember.” Sionnach grinned. “And it will get less and less friendly the more you keep me waiting.”

Orla pressed her lips to avoid smiling.

“I’ll be there when you’re warmed up. You’ll need it.”

In the Wildlands, Orla disembarked from the carriage. If she were a mortal, or simply less attuned to the subtle cues exchanged between a warrior’s body and environment, the slim points of her shoes might have sunk into the earth, unbalancing her. Instead, she allowed a moment to savor the way the ground met her weight — with just enough give to ensure it could push back.

Sionnach followed. She tossed a handful of honey-braised carrots to the harnessed elk at the carriage head. She laughed as they nosed the matted grass and pine needles, and patted their necks. In Wisteria, Orla had pretended not to notice Sionnach pocketing food from the feast table while the nobles tittered and scoffed away. Gossip and carrots. Those were her spoils.

Within the round walls of her tent, Orla exchanged her court garb for sparring leathers and sat at her desk. Her eyes fell on the stack of books in its center. The spines were mismatched: one of green leather and another of brushed grey suede; still others wrapped in birchbark, woven reeds, and the stretched, pebbled skin of an unknown reptile. The casual looker would never guess they were all penned by the same author, which suited their purpose. Their one unifying mark had long since faded, but if Orla touched the spines, her fingers could still find the depressions of the name. In the right light — one candle, lit across the room, or the moon as it set — tiny flecks told of a time when the name was written in full gold leaf.

Azriel Black.

A name she hadn’t spoken aloud in quite some time.

That wouldn’t change today. She pulled out the journal bound in grey suede and thumbed the pages, skimming for the names of the nobles she had seen at court. Though the script itself was neat, reading it was no small act. Text filled a page and even turned the corner to fill it crosswise. Arrows arched between names and fell on diagrams and symbols. It got worse as the text went on. Some of the last  journals, Orla could barely stand to touch. She hated the ache in her chest they produced.

There. The names she was looking for. In the margins Orla wrote down all the details she remembered, even the most frustrating and inane. Lord so-and-so wore a waistcoat with abalone buttons, possibly sourced from that contentious new colony. Lady such-and-such laughed at a tasteless joke and stood guard by the pomegranate puff pastries all night.

She wrote until she ran out of white space. Just as well. Orla closed the book, and then her eyes. These fae were welcomed to city life, taking the parties and pastries as facts of life — things that were owed to them, by name, birth, and the guilelessness that kept them from ever hearing whispers of treason, let alone mustering the will to whisper it themselves.

She slipped the book between its neighbors and went in search of a weapon to suit her mood. Something heavy, tonight. Blunt. Court had soured her appetite for delicacy and grace.

One day, these journals and parties would amount to something. Everything would change.

Until then, the fires were lit, and Sionnach was waiting.

[cassandraclare]

Queen of Air and Darkness

bluiiieee said: This might have been answered before but I didn’t see so, why did Annabel get the cover/title if she was only in half the book? I was thinking it was because the events of QOAAD wouldn’t have come to pass if it hadn’t been for her? Almost everything was direct correlation with her being raised and what happened in the council meeting?

Well, mostly because that isn’t how covers and titles work. They’re not always meant to be literal. On occasion they can be, but it’s a bit like being like “Why is there a frayed red ribbon on the cover of Eclipse when Bella is never tied up with red ribbons?” or “Why is there a candle being blown out on the cover of Looking for Alaska when nobody blows out a candle and the book is not about candles?”

As for titles: In Clockwork Prince, the clockwork prince is Mortmain, who never appears in the book. The Lord of Shadows is the Unseelie King, who appears less than Annabel. There is no city made of ashes in City of Ashes. The Art of Racing in the Rain is about a dog and contains no racing or rain. The Jungle is about a city. There are no dogs in Reservoir Dogs (or any reservoirs.) You get the picture. :D Sometimes a title refers to something specific in a book or film — sometimes it doesn’t.

The point of covers (and to a lesser extent, titles) is to evoke a mood, thought, or image, not to specifically label or depict the events of the book. This is especially true where covers are concerned. Covers can have absolutely nothing to do with the events of a book because the point of them is to create a mood or a feeling or even just to spark curiosity, not to depict scenes.

In terms of Annabel being on the cover of Queen of Air and Darkness, there’s multiple reasons: it was easy to pick Emma and Julian, as the protagonists, to be on the earlier covers, but among secondary characters it’s hard to pick one — Mark isn’t more important than Cristina who isn’t more important than Ty or Kit who aren’t more important than Diana. Also, given the sinister nature of the title, matching that title to a character implies something dark going on with that character, which is true in the case of Annabel but not, say, Cristina. Picking the villain for the last cover of a series is pretty classic — Sebastian is on City of Glass, and partly again because it wasn’t possible to pick between Isabelle, Simon and Alec. But also because whether villains are on page or not, their off-page decisions drive a lot of the action and shape the story.

SPOILERS FOR QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS BELOW

The image of Annabel for Queen was carefully chosen: it’s Annabel on the battlefield as she appears to Julian at the end of the book. Whether you feel Annabel is a significant character or not, it’s a significant image. When Julian sees her — and remember, it isn’t even her, it’s a demon, so technically one could ask why Sarlath the Warlord* is on the cover — she’s in the red dress she wore in Thule, and has no runes: the dress is red, symbolizing blood spilled (Livvy’s blood, Annabel’s blood, blood in battle.) That specific image is what distracts Julian on the battlefield long enough for Zara to stab Emma in the back and set off the parabatai curse, causing Julian and Emma to become True Nephilim. The parabatai curse and how it plays out is the main plot of the book, the center around which everything else turns, and this image is what activates its final chapter.

You’re definitely correct that things wouldn’t have come to pass as they did if it wasn’t for Annabel, and she also represents the dark mirror to Emma and Julian: what they could have become (defined by revenge, love turned to violence) if things hadn’t turned out the way they did. Also, Annabel simply makes for a striking visual image where Horace Dearborn does not. (I will say it’s also almost impossible to get any publisher to put a male character on the cover or spine of a book with a word like “Princess” or “Queen” on it — which is why Tessa was on the cover of book 3 of Infernal Devices instead of book 1, despite being the protagonist. They knew neither of the boys could be on a book with “Princess” on the cover. And that is partly why Cristina is on the spine of Queen of Air and Darkness, fighting alongside Emma and Jules. Also cause she’s awesome.)

As for the title, while Queen of Air and Darkness refers to Annabel, again, it is there partly to evoke a mood. The Queen of Air and Darkness is usually considered to be Mab, the queen of faeries, and partly the title is meant to evoke the importance of faerie in the books. When book titles are inspired by or taken from poetry, you can expect that they are not literal, but metaphorical in nature, or that they may touch on a mood or idea referenced in even a single page (or not at all). Why is Catcher in the Rye named after a poem that is recalled by the main character only briefly? Reams have been written about the question, as referential titles are often the most open to interpretation. Which is part of the fun. :)

* Not his real name.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Time-crossed Lovers

Today was the day William Shakespeare was going to die. And it was all because of the actor with amethysts in their hair.  Time-travel AU, nonbinary Virgil, prinxiety.  Warnings: Technically swearing, very minor mentions of violence, one kinda dirty joke, bad vine/meme references Today was the day William Shakespeare was going to die.    

William Shakespeare was quite sure of it. He had written enough death scenes to understand the general way it went; you lose everything important to you, watch your world crumble into pieces, and then pass away painfully, often to build drama.    

The only problem here was no drama was going to get built. In fact, Shakespeare was quite sure no drama would ever be built again upon his stage. Not after the actor with hair the colour of amethysts was done, anyways.

~~~~~~~~~~    

The day had started normal as always. Today the Globe was putting on Romeo and Juliet, and the people, as always, flocked to the stands. They did love a good tragedy.    

As he was wandering backstage, however, the first problem presented itself. Romeo’s actor was nowhere to be found. Further inquiries around the man revealed that he had gotten into a drunken brawl the other night, and was either dead or lying in some pile of manure.    

Shakespeare couldn’t believe it. Not only was his actor unavailable, his backup (Shakespeare himself) had developed an aching throat, one that allowed him to speak but not loudly, and was unable to take over.    

And there were a few hundred people outside, waiting for a performance.    

Great.    

Before Shakespeare could start checking with all the backup actors to see if any of them could make their way through Romeo’s part, a newcomer stumbled into him.    

“Oh, shxt, I’m so sorry!” They practically yelled as they regained their balance and helped Shakespeare with his as well. Before he could say anything on their vulgar language, his attention was caught by how odd they looked.   

 His eyes were first drawn to their hair. What he first took as some headdress covered in jewels he quickly realized was simply their hair. By some means, they had made it glimmer in the light as though it were made of the amethysts hidden deep within the earth.    

As unusual as that was, it went hand in hand with their pants of a thick, blandly coloured material and their raggy purple top, despite the stranger looking nothing of the royalty who wore that colour. Their shoes were bright purple- though a different shade from their hair- with red ropes laced over them.    

“Who are thee?” Shakespeare asked, still stuck on their shoes. He looked up when they started speaking.    

“Oh, uh, I am Virgil.” They- Virgil- frowned. “Wait, is Virgil a common name here?” They asked, though it seemed they were talking more to themself than Shakespeare.    

“Virgil, are thee hapily an actor?”   

Virgil itched the back of their neck. “Uh, yes? In a way? Not sure I’m super good at it, though.”    

“Are thee well acquainted with the tale of Romeo and Juliet? Most the part of Romeo?”    

“Well, I did a course in high school on it.”    

Shakespeare wasn’t sure what high school was but he pressed on anyways, encouraged by Virgil’s recognition of the play. “Are thee male?”    

“No. But I’m not a girl, either!” They rushed to assure him. “I’m, well, that’s complicated, see, I just go by ‘they’ and ‘them’ and not gender, so, eh,”    

Shakespeare didn’t understand half of what Virgil was saying. What he did catch, however, was that Virgil was not a girl, and that was good enough for him. “Aye, aye,” He grabbed their arm and pulled them towards Romeo’s room, “if thee is truly an actor, then thee shalt be wanting for a part of equal grandeur to yourself. Come, come, make haste; the curtains rise quickly now!”    

“What the fxck what the fxck what the fxxxxxck.” Virgil was muttering as Shakespeare pulled Romeo’s outfit off the stool it had been draped on. Ignoring them, he pushed the cloth into their hands.    

“Hie! The curtain rises anon!” Shakespeare yelled as Virgil untangled the costume.    

“You, uh, want me to put this on?”    

Shakespeare frowned, not completely sure what they were saying, and repeated, “Hie!” Before leaving to check that the chorus was prepared. By the time he had returned, Virgil was struggling on the second sleeve, their own ridiculous outfit stacked on top of the stool.    

“Listen, I didn’t exactly catch what all this is for-” Virgil was in the middle of saying, their words still a mix of well-known yet foreign words to Shakespeare’s ears as he tugged them back behind the stage. He crammed a script into their hands.    

“‘Tis mine hope that thy memory serves thee well this day, but when thou hath a moment thou should not squander it.” He instructed quickly, glancing back to where Benvolio had just entered scene. 

“Thy hour approaches. Hie, hie!”    

Virgil just barely had a moment to flip the script open and catch the first few lines before Shakespeare shoved them onto the stage, making sure to pull the script back as well. Moving to the side, he prepared himself to watch.    

He had not expected to begin his viewing of the worst version of Romeo and Juliet to ever plague his stage.    

Stumbling, Virgil did not look the part of a downhearted, heartsick Romeo. And while they managed to choke out, “Is the day so young?”, none of their other lines were right. In fact, Shakespeare wasn’t even quite sure what they were.    

As Benvolio continued to talk of love, Virgil went wildly off tangent. Much to his praise, Benvolio held character and continued his lines as Virgil blurted out, “Cupid sucks” instead of Romeo’s fourteen lined wrath at Cupid, and, “It’s not Juan” instead of, “This is not Romeo.”    

By the time the party scene was near its closing, Shakespeare was ready to defy his affliction and take the stage. Scene after scene had been butchered, the first two kisses between Romeo and Juliet being so far the worse- Virgil had made not one illusion to pilgrims nor saints, instead seemingly finding immense joys in giving lines such as:    

“Dare I look upon thine tiddies, with barbeque sauce upon them?”    

“And palm to palm is holy kiss, but cheek to cheek is dance so thrilling it doth not equal climbing any mountain peak.”    

“Sin from thy lips? Yeet it back to me.”    

Shakespeare was just about at his wit’s end. So when the three men in dark, who everyone knew were debtors, wandered into his line of vision, Shakespeare was quite sure today was the day of his dying.    

The men of debt and poor mistakes made haste in grabbing Mercutio’s actor by his arms and dragging him half-screaming out one of the hallways. Shakespeare sighed, a sigh he thought must have been deeper than the oceans and heavier than the riches of her Majesty. Now, he needed a new Mercutio, a role so small and an actor so dependable they had never assigned him a secondary player.    

Then, as though the Fates had answered his troubles with another demon, a disheveled stranger dressed in the same strange manner as Virgil- same pants, similar shoes with inverted colours, and a red shirt with a portrait Shakespeare could have sworn was his own bearing darkened glasses- rushed in through the same hall Mercutio had just forcefully exited.    

“Hey, uh, you! Have you see a Virgil around here?” They asked, coming up directly to Shakespeare, the only person not in the act of bustling around. “They’re wearing, well, really torn up clothing, and-”    

Shakespeare pushed himself up, shaking his head. “Aye, aye, Virgil is at moment occupied with the ruination of mine efforts!” He shouted. The stranger blinked.    

“So… that’s a yes?”    

Shakespeare restrained himself from slapping the stranger. “Hath thine decent knowledge of the character Mercutio from mine play Romeo and Juliet?”   

“Oh, Mercutio? He’s a cool character. Don’t know his Queen Mab speech too well, though.”    

“‘Tis well enough that scene is played.” Shakespeare responded, reacting to ‘Queen Mab,’ the only part he really understood of the sentence. He took his general impression that this stranger knew Mercutio, however, and for the second time that day began to drag a stranger to the back rooms.    

“Pray not say thine is a woman.” He said as he shoved the stranger into the room, this one holding all the spare costumes.    

“No, I’m a man. Name’s Roman.” Roman extended his hand to shake, but Shakespeare was too busy pulling off Mercutio’s spare costume off the rack.    

“Hie to put this on, the play hath been delayed already too badly.” Shakespeare urged, stepping out to see that the chorus was preparing to give his opening speech. Only one act in and already I fear the crowd shall anon fling their ripe and rotten fruits at us.    

Behind him, Roman stumbled out of the room, straightening his hat. “Do you just like having people in costumes, or…?”    

Shakespeare pulled him to just behind the curtains, beside Benvolio. “Thine scene begins.”    

Moving back to his watching place, Shakespeare was eternally relieved to find that Roman actually knew his part. Though he missed a few words, and at one moment skipped an entire line, he stayed to the script and made it work.    

As he exited stage, however, and Virgil once more held the unlucky crowd’s attention, Shakespeare sagged against the nearest wall, already disappointed in what was to come. And with such winning lines as:    

“Juliet, so pretty, willingly I’d let thee stab me.”    

“O, speak again! For while I, Jared of but nineteen years, cannot read, I can listen.”    

“If the risk of seeing you is the risk of sweet death, than what risk is there really?”    

“Love does not simply go towards love.”    

Shakespeare just knew the Fates were taunting him.    

“Oh, aren’t they doing great?” Shakespeare glanced over. Roman had come to join him in his watching. Unlike Shakespeare, however, he had found a way to enjoy the monstrosity occurring upon his stage, if his smile told anything.    

Shakespeare simply sighed again and slumped to the floor, refusing to watch anymore. The one line that he dared to hear seemed to come from the right-before-the-wedding scene. That didn’t make the line any less un-understandable:    

“Juliet, before we wed, there is something thee must know: I’m an a-dult vir-gin.”    

The second he took to glance up, he found that now even Roman was failing to do the simplest of scenes. Instead of dying, he was standing up, clutching his chest, and wandering backstage, yelling out to the audience, “‘Tis but a flesh wound, good Benvolio and Romeo. I shalt but walk it off.”    

Uncertain laughter came from the crowd as Virgil pulled out their sword and demanded of Tybalt, “Pay me back, in time, what you own! For I hath but sixty-nine cents, and cannot afford even a chicken nugget!”    

That line alone, of words Shakespeare, master of words, could not understand, was enough to convince him the final nail had really, truly, been slammed into his coffin. He was quite sure that this play alone would destroy his entire career. He slumped to the ground again, wondering if by ignoring them they might disappear as quickly and violently they had come to screw up his world.    

He wasn’t sure exactly how much time had passed when there was yet another scuffle backstage. Shakespeare glanced up, towards where Roman was steering Balthasar’s character away from the curtains and entering himself.    

“What…?” Shakespeare forced himself back up once more and watched the scene that played, set with Virgil doing some odd dance that consisted of them throwing their arm forward and then back and over again. Roman ran on stage, and a buzz instantly rose from the crowd, wondering why Mercutio was back.    

Virgil stopped dancing to turn and face him. “Oh, Ro- uh, Mercutio! How are you?”    

“Good.”    

“Hmm. How’s, eh, Juliet?”    

“Well, I mean, she could be better.”    

“That sounds bad.”    

“She’s slightly dead.”    

“Only slightly?”    

“Well, maybe a bit more than just slightly.”    

“Oh, drat, oh no, oh foul fates; what am I to do about the death of that girl I think I loved?”    

Shakespeare felt as though his heart might leap out of his chest. Though Virgil’s words, as always, were odd to him, he was no fool. He got the general impression they had basically just said they didn’t care about Juliet. Romeo not caring with all his soul for the death of Juliet was like Caesar not saying, “Et tu, Brute?” or Ophelia not accidentally drowning herself in a mad fervor. The play was nothing without it.    

Roman, on the other hand, seemed completely and utterly unworried as he continued on, “Do you, like, want to pay her homage or something?”    

“I guess I probably should. How should I get there?”    

“Ride me.”    

Virgil and Roman instantly blurted out a laugh at that, though Shakespeare couldn’t fathom why. After a moment, Roman continued,    

“I mean, ride me horse.” He gestured offstage. “I have big horse. It hath strength to bring us both to Juliet's tomb.”    

“Uh, yeah, sure. Shall we…?”    

Before Virgil and Roman could exit stage, however, a hurried apothecary rushed on with just enough time to blurt out, “Death to thee who utters them!” and shove the vial of poison into Virgil’s hands.    

Virgil shrugged. “Death. Cool.” And wandered off stage with Roman.    

While the friars went out to do their bit, Shakespeare hurried over to where Roman and Virgil had fallen into conversation.    

“...well it’s definitely more fun than double death duty.” Virgil was in the middle of saying when Shakespeare reached them.    

“Alack, alack! What horrid day hath thine brought upon me? My stage a sin, my play disgraced; hath thou more dishonors to bring forth?!” He demanded of them.    

For a minute, they didn’t respond. Virgil tilted their head in confusion while Roman tugged at a small red jewel embedded in his earlobe. Shakespeare continued,    

“Were it not my players forfeit to fortune, I myself wouldst cast thee from the stage! Anon, too anon, thou shalt once more take the stage, and with thine final words, cast mine name to the wolves!”    

Roman patted Shakespeare shoulder. “Don’t worry, dude, we got this in the bag.”    

Shakespeare blinked, unsure what he said, decided it was not good for him, and went back to his lone watching post. Roman turned to shrug at Virgil before they were called back on stage.    

Shakespeare watched Virgil stumble their way through the epic fight scene between Paris, with Roman casually observing as Virgil threw their swords at Paris instead of fighting. Paris, to his credit, grasped the area the first sword hit and did a well enough faint, even if Virgil poked his side and moved on instead of carrying his body inside the tomb.    

Paris taken care of, Virgil and Roman headed inside the tomb, walking over to Juliet's prone figure.    

“She looks so… not dead.” Roman marveled.    

“Surely that cannot be natural?” Virgil asked.    

“It cannot. And I’m going to be honest, it’s freaking me out a little bit.”    

Virgil pulled the vial of poison out of the hidden pocket within their coat. “Perhaps this… whatever it is will decrease the shimmer from her lips?”    

“Worth a shot.”    

And then Shakespeare got to watch Romeo pour poison down his Juliet's throat, thus guaranteeing her death and destroying the final strains of romantic drama in the play. A low grumble began among the crowd, many already knowing how this play should end and what Romeo had just done.    

“So… now what?” Virgil asked, discarding the vial with a lazy throw to the side.    

“I suppose we must get you back to, uh, Mantua. I’d hate to see the prince behead thee.”    

“And you? What shall you do?”    

“See you off, I suppose, and come back to Verona. My absence wouldst be noted.”    

“Oh, must thou go?” Virgil took Roman’s hand. “Mercutio, I hath loved and lost to much. Come away with me.”    

“I hath duties to be attended.”    

“Hath you no duty to thine heart?” Virgil moved their other hand to Roman’s face to caress their cheek. “Mercutio, Mercutio, thou art more lovely than two free tacos.”    

“Oh, Romeo, thou art too sweet.” Roman answered, moving his hand to Virgil’s face as well, forming perfect symmetry as they both leaned in for a kiss.

Despite the awful acting that had thus far preceded it, Shakespeare was startled by how tender and rich and real their kiss was. They seemed to melt into each other, pulling closer, and Shakespeare realized that no man nor woman nor any other could kiss so sweetly, so passionately were they not already sweet and passionate together.

Finally after a moment too long and yet too short, the two lovers pulled back and, arm looped in arm, promptly left the stage. They wandered directly into their rooms, leaving Shakespeare to watch as a confused chorus wandered out, stood before the angry crowd, and say naught more than, “Never was there a tale of more woe, than that of… Mercutio and his Romeo?”

Within a second, tomatoes appeared in the crowd’s hands and were flung directly at the poor chorus, who was forced to rush off the stage. The backstage was thrown in chaos as actors rushed to leave before the crowd, already climbing onto the stage, could reach them.

Shakespeare himself joined the hoard, knowing that if he was found to have been watching the entire act, he himself would lose any hope of ever even slightly being favored ever again by the people. As he hurried off, however, he was forced to stop a moment as a slightly bewildered Virgil and Roman exited their rooms, changed back into their unusual yet oddly striking clothes.

“Are thee truly lovers?” He asked them. Though they did not reply, their expressions and the trusting way Virgil leaned their head upon Roman’s shoulder told all. He nodded once.

“Thou are despicable actors, but shouldst thee ever learn a half wit of line, thee are the romance of Romeo and Juliet.” He told them before grabbing Virgil’s arm once again. “Make haste, now, or thee wilt surely be trampled.”

Even as he looked away to navigate their way threw the crowd, Shakespeare knew the two lovers tightened their hold upon each other as to guarantee they would not be separated. He smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~    

“Well he was nice.”    

Roman laughed. “He was, though I wish I actually knew old-timey english. I could barely understand him!”    

Virgil laughed as well. “Me neither. But I get the feeling he did not appreciate our changes to the script.”    

“Definitely not. I do think he approved of us, however.”    

“Oh, who wouldn't?” Virgil teased, pulling Roman closer to them once more. “We’re adorable.”    

“You got that right.” Roman said, kissing Virgil. “Though,” he began, pulling away for a moment, “quite awful at being time travelers.”    

“Do shut up.” Virgil said and pulled him back into the kiss.    

“Happily.” He whispered against their lips.

[lamiaward]

Congratulations , you are mothers! ( it is a dragon)

Oh gods have thy mercy on me and finally help me find good names, both for fics and characters. I don’t own the Worst Witch. This is the fic where Pippa finds a dragon egg and raises it with Hecate, enjoy. Also, it takes place shortly after New Dawn (although I still kind of plan on rewriting that episode because some things were very out of character etc but okay) and assumes that Hecate and Pippa remain utter disasters so their friendship is kind of fragile at the beginning of this story. 

Furthermore, I firmly believe Hecate is such an utter oblivious dumbass when it comes to women that even if she found something like a romance about two witches in the possession of her ‘gal’ she wouldn’t connect the dots.

Warning: mention of death.

It is small, and unassuming but there is so much magic to it that Pippa almost feels dizzy just standing next to it. Even more overwhelming than the waves of magic slamming into her, is the sharp pain that feels like a knife slipping through her ribs at the sight of the body curled around the small thing.

Pippa Pentangle is known as kind, bright, happy to the point of frivolity- few know that she is also terrifying. But if they were still around, if who did this had been standing in front of Pippa right now, she would’ve done far worse than just punch them. In fact, she needs to take several deep breaths before she runs towards the rocks where the dragon egg is mostly kept hidden by the magenta claws of his mother curled protectively around them.

She kneels down next to the dragon, who growls lowly but is clearly too weak to attack her. And Pippa has always had a way with magical creatures; unicorns headbutting her shoulder affectively long after she stopped being a maiden, griffin chick’s jumping in her lap, even manticore’s flicking their tails playfully at her. In fact, she knows of only one person who exceeds her gift with animals.

“ Oh you poor thing” she whispers at the dragon, blinking rapidly. Bluish blood drips down, and Pippa doesn’t need to be a specialist to tell the creature is fading, and her entire coven wouldn’t have had enough to save her. She places her hand above the scales- never touch dragons, for their scales have hidden barbs that could cut Pippa’s hand as effectively as any knife- and starts to chant.

She doesn’t ask for healing, but she asks for no pain to be felt. She demands no vengeance, but suggests this great creature’s soul to rest at least. She doesn’t ask anything for the small creature still cradled beneath its mother’s claws, in deep sleep and unaware of how the bright colours of his mother are already fading, the dark blue steadily turning grey beneath Pippa’s hand.

Dragons long lost the powers of speech- some witches even think they never possessed it. But Pippa could swear that when the dragon fights to raise her head, and turns it- that when she looks straight into Pippa’s eyes, leaving her struck breathless by the cold spreading through her, she speaks. Just two words.

Protect it.

And then she dies, and Pippa is left weeping silently. Dragon scales can be used for at least a dozen potions. Dragon eyes are powerful amulets. If one bathes in dragon blood, they’re as immortal as queen Mab. It is said that a dragon’s heart has the power to amplify your magic tenfold. Pippa mutters a last prayer, and rises slowly.

She doesn’t take anything, nor does she try to bury the dragon. She doesn’t have to move the paw; the dragon used her last strength to do it herself. And there it is, what Pippa glimpsed at first. An ordinary person wouldn’t look twice, would think it is just a rock. But when Pippa carefully lifts the egg in her arms, it is warm and beating against her. As soon as she touches it, it changes color subtly until it is the same bright pink of her dress.

She starts to walk again, potion gatherings and festivals long forgotten.

It is first time in three weeks she speaks to Hecate.

Which is nothing compared to three decades, but it stings nonetheless. It is just as frustrating, to walk into Cackle’s and be met with distrust and accusations, as it was to walk into the great castle of Caleign , be surrounded by half-competent potion mistresses and be unable to talk to Hecate. Still, perhaps she should be glad that she has Hecate at all, and just push down the rest- but Pippa has never been able to do that. Has always lost herself in whatever she wanted, since the first time she Hecate spoke up in class and Pippa couldn’t think about anything for days but how she had finally found a person that could keep up, that she needed to be friends with.

She just hopes Hecate looks at her, and sees something similar. Because it is three decades later, and Pippa has never been able to stop needing Hecate. At least she answers the mirror now.

“Pippa” it is just her name, but she loves it whenever Hecate says it. It feels like an incantation for happy days and calm nights.

“ Hecate, hello. I am ever so sorry to disturb you- “she gives Hecate her prettiest, most potent smile. “But I am afraid I need your help”

“ With wha- oh” Hecate swallows, staring at the egg Pippa has carefully lifted, and is now in her lap.

“ The parent died”

A muscle in Hecate’s face twitches. “ How?”

Pippa takes a deep breath, not wishing to have her anger affect the dragon. Dragon baby’s are notoriously sensitive to emotions, especially when they come with magical outbursts.  “Poachers. I have heard that the industry is still thriving, and they wished for her eggs. There were two corpses – but it appears as though the rest of the group got away, and took the other egg”

“ It is rare for them to have more than one egg at once” Hecate just says, but Pippa still knows her well enough to recognize the anger struggling against Hecate’s famous self-control.

“ Indeed. This one is – I am afraid it is not as strong as its brethren”

“ Did she choose you?”

Pippa nods. “There is only a handful of specialists, but my deputy is actually friends with one of them. It appears as though the responsibility falls with me- someone else can still raise it of course, but that would mean rejecting it and- “

“ I am well-aware of the process. What do you require of me?”

Pippa laughs breathlessly. “ It is not exactly a one-woman job, and I have my school to run. And you- “ she smiles hesitantly at Hecate. “ Well, you have always had a talent with magical creatures”. That is an understatement.

Hecate stares at the egg, then nods briskly. “ Of course. I will have to discuss it with Ada, but I imagine that I will be able to leave in an hour. Do you know which species it is?”

“ One of the frostborn species, I imagine”  she tugs on one of her hairlocks.  “The mother breathed on me- I have yet to be able to remove the frost from my hair tips”

“ I  noticed” she doesn’t know what to make of Hecate’s tone, and the way she looks at Pippa before glancing away and clearing her throat. “ I would suggest that you wrap it into something cold, and remain near it”

Pippa nods. She had thought something similar, which is why her room was at least ten degrees colder than she liked it herself. “ I very much agree. I shall inform my deputy that you are coming, do you need- “

“ I will find you” Hecate interrupts, apparently still apt at anticipating what Pippa is going to say. She doesn’t smile, but her face is decidedly less rigid, her voice softer, when she says “ goodbye Pippa” and breaks the connection. It’s funny, but it always makes Pippa’s heart jump into her throat. A part of her is terrified constantly, now that they’ve reconciled.

She is supposed to be an adult, but at the thought of losing whatever second chance – no matter how little it is compared to what she wants- they have gotten, Pippa honestly feels like a teenager experiencing her first heartbreak. She cradles the egg to her chest.

“ It hurts, doesn’t it? Losing someone you love?” she whispers to it, smiling through her stinging eyes. “  Poor thing, all alone without your mother. I know someone else like you, you know. I think you will like her- she is coming here in a while. She will help us, you’ll see”

Pippa stands up, adding one last cold spell to the nest she made. It has everything their dragon needs; cold (but not too much) , softness, protection, hair or fur and magic nearby. Her entire castle is a strongpoint of magic, but she still feels uncomfortable leaving, so she sits down next to it, and starts to talk.

“ I am not an expert on your kind, but I have my fair share of knowledge. I have always wanted to be a teacher, but I also wanted to work with magical creatures. I actually planned to start my own reserve if this school did not work out, and I prepared for that. I reckon I will mistakes, but at least I know the most important things”

She sings a high note, smiling and then shivering as the room cools down slightly.  “There. This should be to your liking” she stands up, walks over to her closet and retrieves her favourite cloak to wrap it around her. “It is not truly to mine however, I am s-sorry” she sits down again, smiling. The connection is pulling tight around her, until she can feel the second heartbeat that is a half-second slower than her own.

She sneezes. “We lost one of the students a few days back. I spend half the night searching the woods” she chuckles.  “Poor girl had wandered into the wrong part- our forest is magical, and it quite likes confusing you when you annoy it. It kept sending her the wrong way, but we finally found her in the morning”

She curls her hands around the hot cup of tea. “ Things like that happen in a school, especially one where magic is taught. I am certain you will experience many mishaps in your time with us”

“ One should hope that they would only experience the least amount of … mistakes” a familiar voice drawls.

Pippa gasps, and stands up so suddenly the room nearly tilts.  “Hecate” she doesn’t even think about rushing towards her friend, and hugging her. There is the familiar smell of Hecate’s shampoo, the one she makes herself. Hecate never uses anything that has a lot of scent to it, no soft-smelling roses or the bottled smell of spring. Others may find it boring, but for Pippa it is just uniquely Hecate. And she knows Hecate can’t stand too much stimuli, doesn’t like too-pronounced smells, colours or sounds.

She pulls back. “ Well-met”

“ Well-met” Hecate mutters, her eyes on the egg. She takes a few careful steps towards it. “ How long until it is safe to leave the egg?”

“ Miss Lazul told me that they won’t be long, perhaps a fortnight”

“ I arranged with Ada that I could spend time here. She knows it takes at least two people”

Pippa nods. “Thank you “she squeezes Hecate’s hand very briefly. “I know it is not easy for you to leave Cackle’s”

Hecate looks like she is about to say something, then closes her mouth again. Pippa is just thinking that pushing might not be so bad, when Hecate just says “ We will have to keep watch. Do you have the first batch ready?”

Pippa nods in the direction of the grey-ish substance. She wrinkles her nose automatically, thinking of the horrid smell. “Yes, I do. We have a window of three days, either for them to be born three days earlier or three days later”

Hecate just nods, and conjures a chair she immediately, very slowly lowers herself into. She flinches slightly when Pippa summons the blanket.

“ I apologize. I just- “ she shrugs. “ I remember how you always used to be cold. I am sorry, I don’t even know whether you still- “

“ I do “ Hecate answers, then immediately seems embarrassed to have revealed this much. She looks at the egg again. “It is quite beautiful”

“ I have always found dragons to be beautiful. Perhaps even more so than unicorns”

“ You love unicorns”

“I love unicorns” Pippa confirms, thinking how Hecate’s slight hesitation is charming. “ I also love manticores, and hellhounds and nearly every other magical creature”

Hecate’s lips twitch. “ I remember”

“I teach my students to be slightly more careful when approaching creatures”

“ I would hope so, unless you wish them to have a scar as well”

“ It wasn’t so bad”

Hecate raises her eyebrows slightly, and Pippa rolls her eyes with a smile. “ Oh do shut up Hiccup “ she says, sipping her tea. Hecate focuses on the egg again, although she is smirking slightly.

“ As you wish” she hesitates, and something in Pippa’s chest expands until it feels like there is no more room in her ribcage, like her ribs are pushed down, breaking, and driven into her stomach. “ Pipsqueak” Hecate finally murmurs, and Pippa breaths again.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, until it becomes too much and Pippa taps her foot on the floor repeatedly until it becomes too much for Hecate. She sighs at the look sent her way, and stops the tapping. “Sorry. I am afraid I have improved, but I have not completely lost my dislike of silence”

“ We were always complete opposites in that regard”

“ I can stay silent, if you wish me to”

“ We can use the time to discuss the proper precautions we will need to take”

It’s Hecate’s way of saying she is okay with talking, with how often Pippa needs noise around her. She smiles easily, and they spent the next hours discussing bringing food for the dragon to the castle ( they can hunt Pippa, there are woods behind your castle), the right spells to cast around them ( they do not just need protection, they are allowed to have fun) and any of the other dozen details that need to be arranged. The first night passes quickly.

They are the best weeks Pippa has had in years.

They finally talk again, stilted at first, filled with long silences and hesitations, until they become comfortable again, and it turns into long discussion( they keep forgetting their tea, and Pippa loves Hecate’s face whenever she drinks her tea and it turns out to be cold). They cast spells together, and bicker about the right one ( Hecate always more focused on practicality, whereas Pippa argues that a little frivolity is certainly a necessity of life as well). They read anything that may tell them more about their dragon ( Hecate is browsing Pippa’s bookcase when she takes out the wrong book and blushes furiously at the image of a dark head of hair between the spread legs of another nude woman on the cover of Pippa’s favourite romance novel). They discuss anything, from potions to chanting to teaching methods- the only thing they avoid is the time spent apart, although Pippa pretends to be surprised when Hecate talks about the potion research she has done the past decades (I have read every article, Pippa doesn’t say) and Hecate discovers Pippa has actually travelled extensively, learning about new methods but also finding her deputy and best friend in a rainforest hallway across the world.

It is the twelfth day, and the first time Hecate actually stays the entire night -although not on purpose. She has fallen asleep in her chair, book laying open on her lap. Pippa is just considering magicking her into bed when she starts to move slightly, and something in Pippa recognizes the sounds before they have even registered fully.

“Hecate- “

She just makes the same sound, like a scared animal stuck in a trap. Pippa repeats her name, but Hecate has always been hard to wake when she was having nightmares. The other woman moves, her eyes rolling beneath her closed eyelids, and mutters something incomprehensible.

“ Hecate!” Pippa repeats, gently touching the other witch’s arm. “It is just a dream, darling, wake up”

There are beads of sweat sliding down Hecate’s neck now, and her eyes are rolling even more. Pippa smells the familiar tang of Hecate’s magic when she is afraid, when she is slipping. She grasps her hands. “ Hiccup darling, please wake up “ she says clearly, and Hecate jolts.

“ Pippa- “ she gasps, eyes wide and teary, a few errand tears actually escaping. She slowly wakes, looking more embarrassed and less confused with every second that passes.

Pippa allows her a little space, then stops her when she stands and snaps her fingers to gather her belongings.  “I should lea-“

“ Stay. It is the middle of the night, and all this travelling is exhausting you” it is true; Pippa has hardly ever seen Hecate this exhausted

“The process saps your magic, they use it to grow- “

“ It is not just that, Hiccup. Our little hatchling is sapping my strength as well, and I am not nearly as exhausted as you. Stay, please”

For some reason, Hecate just stares at her for a while before giving in. Pippa expected getting her to stay would be a lot harder, as she has tried several times already. But she doesn’t show her slight surprise, just smiles and thanks Hecate before allowing her some time to get ready for bed. It is no more than twenty minutes later that Hecate walks into the room again, her hair down and wearing a simple ( but lovely, so lovely Pippa’s mind whispers) gown. Pippa forces a smile, forcing her eyes to remain on Hecate’s face (hardly a punishment) and to not drift to her bare legs, or what is visible of her chest. She closes her book and follows Hecate to the bed that they have moved, so it is now next to their dragon.

Hecate freezes, apparently only now realizing what Pippa offered. “ I can sleep on-“

Pippa rolls her eyes.  “ Do not be ridiculous” she smiles, pretending not to notice how Hecate is holding herself even more stiffly than usual, how her magic is readying itself for a transference spell. “ The bed is large enough for both of us… And I promise I do not snore, nor hog the covers.. Hiccup”

Hecate relaxes the absolute minimum amount.“ You actually do snore, it sounds like a Banshee”

Pippa gasps. “ I do not”

There is an almost indecipherable smile on Hecate’s face. “I could not believe it at first either. I genuinely thought we were being attacked the first time I woke up and heard.. that”

“ I cannot- well, if that is true, why did you not tell me?”

“ I did not wish to embarrass you”

“You could’ve saved me a dreadful breakup “Pippa mutters, grimacing.

Hecate stiffens again. “ I beg your pardon?”

Pippa feels herself flush slightly. “ You will laugh at me”

Hecate just raises her eyebrow in that way of hers, the one that is both infuriating and very attractive to Pippa somehow. Pippa rolls her eyes again.  “ All right, but get into bed first. I love our babe, but their aptitude for cold is making me feel like a popsicle”

Hecate hesitates, but eventually slips under the covers after several, tense minutes of staring at Pippa. Pippa ignores the way Hecate is still stiff, and trying desperately to keep distance between them, tries to keep herself from warning Hecate she will fall of the bed that way. She wonders whether Hecate has shared her bed at all these past decades, scolds herself for wishing desperately she hasn’t.

“ Do you promise you will not laugh at me?”

“ I hardly think this story is as embarrassing as you fear, Pippa”

She wriggles, trying to get comfortable. She can feel Hecate stiffen even more, hears her breath hitch. Feels her own heart stutter when their legs touch accidentally. “ What are you doing?”

“ Trying to get comfortable. If I am going to humiliate myself, I want to be comfortable at least” there is silence, and Pippa stops her moving around, laying on her side to face Hecate. She is laying on her back, staring at the ceiling. Her shoulders are drawn up, her teeth clenched.

“ Are you all right, Hiccup?” Pippa whispers

“Are you going to tell this story?” she snaps it, but the slight waver in her voice softens the blow.

“ All right” she huffs a little. “ Several years ago, I was set up on a blind date by one of my friends. They hadn’t even told me it was a blind date, so I arrived at our favourite restaurant with newt’s eye on my robes- there had been a slight accident – and my hair looking truly dreadful. It was all quite mortifying”

“ I fail to see how this relates to- “

“ Then listen, Hiccup” Pippa cannot keep herself from smiling; it feels like they’re girls again, huddled on her bed as they swap stories ( although Hecate always listened more than that she told). “ My date actually found the story amusing, but it was a little awkward as I very much did not have the time nor the desire to date”

Pippa pauses to sneak a look at Hecate; she is slowly relaxing. Good. “ As I had told my friends – “ she rolls her eyes fondly at the memory “ I did not really have time to date, and I prefer these things to happen organically anyways. But it would have been very rude to say so, and I stayed and spend an enjoyable evening with Devon”

Pippa tries to ignore the new tension she can feel from the other woman, and resists the urge to touch her hand briefly, lest she startles Hecate so much she disappears again.  “Long story short, we started dating, and it was all fine in the beginning. But then there was a conference I needed to attend, and she simply insisted- “

“ S-she?” Hecate interjects, jolting.

Pippa stares at her. “ Hecate?”

“ But you- you aren’t? “ Pippa is distracted for a moment by the way Hecate cheeks are flushed, and she has this wide-eyed expression and her hair is fanned out on the pillow and Pippa is overcome with the very foolish, and even more powerful desire to kiss her.

When she has herself under control again, or as much under control as she can be around Hecate, Hecate’s question registers, and she pushes herself up abruptly. “ Wait- Hecate, did you believe I fancied wizards?”

“I- but – women?” Hecate splutters, and she would find it adorable were it not that she kind of wants to hex Hecate for her foolishness. I spend half my childhood flirting with you, you oblivious, hard-headed, impossible, gorgeous-

She takes a deep breath. “ Yes, I fancy women. Exclusively, actually. As do you”

Hecate stares at her with badly-concealed horror. “How did you- “

Pippa softens. “It is a bit obvious, Hiccup dear”

Hecate swallows. “It is?”

Pippa cannot stop herself this time, and feels around for Hecate’s hand until she finds it. She squeezes it briefly, then lets go. “Your students are likely too preoccupied with their own love lives to notice or care, Hiccup”

When Hecate remains silent, and doesn’t lose her slightly terrified expression, she adds “And just because you are a teacher, does not mean you need to abstain from love or..  “she flushes herself at the thought of Hecate like that, tries to push away a hundred fantasies and at least a dozen dreams she has had of Hecate where- “ sex”

Hecate honestly looks like she is having an aneurysm ,then suddenly blurts. “ You were telling me about this… Devon?”

“I – yes?” she looks at Hecate, who looks at her like “please, for the love of the Goddess, do not continue talking about this, I am very uncomfortable” so Pippa sighs and decides to let it go.

She pats Hecate’s hand briefly. “ Yes. So Devon was very jealous. I honestly think she was a bit insecure and that that is why she behaved this way. Anyways, it was not very obvious in the early stages of our relationship, but then there was this conference. And we had fights about this for at least a week, because she believed I had ulterior motives for wishing to go alone”

Hecate is frowning. “ It is a professional setting, it would hardly make sense to –“

Pippa smiles. Other people had always found Hecate boring or annoying because of things like these, but Pippa had either seen it as a challenge or just found it refreshing. “You will be shocked to hear then, Hiccup, that many witches – and wizards- use these meetings as hook-ups”

Hecate looks confused for a moment- likely by the term “hook-ups”- then absolutely scandalized. Pippa has to bite her lip to keep herself from laughing. “ I truly fear for the future of the Craft, when even the parents of our pupils behave so abysmally”

Pippa does laugh then, although she manages to stop quickly. “There is nothing wrong with winding down a bit, as long as it does not interfere with the reason you are actually attending the conference”

Hecate raises her eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything. Pippa rolls her eyes fondly at Hecate. “ Shall I continue with the story?”

“If you still wish to tell it” Hecate smirks slightly, and it is a testimony to how much their friendship has been repairing these past weeks that she feels comfortable enough to add “ After all, you already admitted to grossly unprofessional behaviour”

“Wh- I never did that actually” Pippa blushes, suddenly remembering a certain conference, when she was only barely out of witching academy, and Morgana Starling had been there and she had been so heartbroken still and so desperate to make it stop that-

“Pipsqueak?” Hecate questions, and Pippa shakes off the memory.

“I do apologize, I was getting lost in my head” she grimaces slightly. “ You know that still happens”

She doesn’t know what to make of the way Hecate looks at her, and says “ I know” after a brief pause.

“ All right. So where was I?”

“ You were telling me about this… Devon person and her issues with confidence and hence her insistence on following you everywhere”

“ Yes. So Devon and I had several large fights until I finally gave in, and allowed her to come with me” Pippa doesn’t mention that Devon hadn’t initially been so manic about this; it had only been after she had noticed that Hecate was on the guest list that she had demanded and begged and screamed at Pippa to let her come as well. She doesn’t explain, either, that Devon had known , that they had been at a workshop several months earlier and Hecate had been there and Pippa hadn’t been able to stop staring, hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything Devon had said that evening.

She takes a deep breath.  “The conference would last three days and it was all fine at first. After I let go of my initial hesitance, it was actually rather lovely- but then she somehow got it in her head that I was cheating on her”

Hecate raises an eyebrow. “I take it she did not react well”

“ You can say that. I had to focus on my own research but had her constantly following me, practically breathing fire whenever I so much as smiled at another witch, hurling accusations at me – it escalated to the point where I was speaking with a colleague and she was utterly convinced I was sleeping with her”

Hecate is silent for a moment, then says “ You are very affectionate”

“ What?”

“ I – “ Hecate stumbles over her words slightly, frowning. “ The way you speak to others, it is very… affectionate. Perhaps that is why she did not question her own behaviour and choose to disgrace herself this way?”

It takes Pippa a moment to realize Hecate is not taking her ex’s side, merely attempting to understand , and dissect her, in a way. She smiles. It is so utterly Hecate, to focus on everything people wouldn’t think important, and to react in a way that can easily be misunderstood. “ It could be” she agrees

“ I still fail to understand how this all relates to your snoring, however” Hecate says, raising her eyebrows slightly.

Pippa rolls her eyes playfully at her. “ Is this the same Hecate Hardbroom who is fond of saying that ‘patience is a virtue every witch should possess in abundance’ that is plainly telling me I am taking to long to get to the point?”

“ I am merely – “ Hecate flushes and stiffens beneath Pippa’s hold when Pippa blindly grabs for her hand, squeezes it once and lets it go.

“ I am teasing, Hicup. I know you dislike it when people keep winding on, and I do understand. It is merely that you require the events following up to our last fight to understand why it escalated the way it did”

Hecate is silent for another moment. “What happened?”

“ It was the last day of the conference, and I returned later from a lecture than expected. When I opened the door, the room was – well to say it was destroyed would be no exaggeration. Devon and I got into another fight and for some reason, she brought my snoring into it. I had never had any of my other lovers bring it up, so -  “

She cuts herself off when Hecate makes an odd sound, between choking and inhaling sharply. “ Hecate? Are you all- “

“ I am fine”

Perhaps it is Pippa’s imagination – she has been accused of an over imaginative one several times- but it as though the very air between them has changed suddenly. Pippa has to clear her throat several times before she can continue “Anyways, Devon insisted that I “snored so terribly that it could have woken a Welsh dragon in the midst of its hibernation” and I may have overreacted a tad”

“ Which means you- “

“ I screamed at her that if it was that horrendous, she could go find herself a girlfriend that did not make noise, and threw my keys in her face. That was an accident, but I was so furious and- “

“It was not her unreasonable, immature behaviour but the fact that she told you – correctly- that you snored that drove you to break up with her?”

“ She was being really mean about it!” Pippa protests.

“ I understand, but you were an adult at this time, were you not? And- “

It is Pippa’s turn to laugh when a stunned, disgraceful squeak escapes from Hecate when she is hit with the pillow.  “All right, I was a bit ridiculous but I truly thought this was the last of a load of codswallop. She had spun some thick hats before, after all”

“ Regardless, that was – “ Pippa just needs to hear that noise again, and Hecate does not disappoint.

“ I see you have not changed much since you- “ she stops the next hit “ This is behaviour unbecoming of- Pippa”

Pippa falls down on the pillow again laughing breathlessly. “ Oh goddess, I do apologize Hecate but the sounds you make” she wipes away a tear, and turns around in the bed to look at Hecate.

She almost bursts out laughing again when she notices her expression, but pushes herself up so she can better look at Hecate. “ Hiccup? Are you all right, I did not hurt you with my antics, did I?”

“No, I- “ Pippa is shocked by how still Hecate is, frozen enough that she could have been made by marble. Would that not be a statue I could stare at forever. It is only something hitting her head that allows her to tear herself away from her thoughts.

She gapes. “ Hecate Hardbroom, did you just hit me with a pillow?”

“ Do not be preposterous, I would never” Hecate says, voice harsh but for the slight hesitation. She scans Pippa, seemingly checking whether this is all right, before her eyes glance away again. She is very stiff again.

Oh that won’t do at all. “ You know Hiccup, I keep wondering about what has changed about you, and what has not changed one bit.. “ she keeps her voice casual, creeping closer to Hecate. Hecate glances at her, then stiffens that bit more.

“ I hardly think that is of any interest”

Pippa ignores her, and subtly pushes herself that bit closer. If Hecate shifted, she would probably brush Pippa’s arm or hand. “ For example, I do wonder ever so much – “ she waits a beat, long enough for Hecate to snap her head towards her and narrow her eyes.

“ Pippa Phyllis Pentangle, do not- “

“Are you still ticklish?” Pippa rushes out, then pulls Hecate towards her, releases her and shows no mercy. The moment her fingers brush Hecate’s side, the woman twitches and tries to shift away.

“ Pippa- “she speaks through gritted teeth, but then lets out a choked gasp when Pippa’s fingers brush her hip.

“We are no longer children, stop this behaviour this instant- “

“ Oh, you do not get off that easily Hecate. I will not fall for that” Pippa laughs, and brushes her fingers over Hecate’s arms, her hip and even her legs. By the time she has done this several times, Hecate is choking on laughter, and bucking so wildly that Pippa actually receives a elbow to her ribs.

She finally shifts away from Hecate, brushing her fingers against the spot that received a direct hit. She doesn’t stop laughing, and looks down at Hecate. The wind is knocked out of her more violently than if she were to accidentally fly into a tree (or get hit by a nymph’s tree again, long story)

She lays on her side, watching Hecate catch her breath for a moment – she is gorgeous, all red-faced and hair spread out wildly- before forcing herself to lay on her back. If she still knows Hecate, she knows that Hecate despises it when people stare at her, especially in vulnerable, open moments such as this one.

“ I cannot… believe… you just did.. that” Hecate manages to spit out.

“Surely you understand the importance of testing a hypothesis “she says, still laughing a bit.

“I do, but I hardly would accept this as viable research”

“Oh, I disagree very much. I have never had research as important as this” Pippa sobers slightly, and forces herself to only glance at Hecate, careful of her dislike of prolonged eye contact. “ Truly though Hecate, I am very happy that I have this chance to get to know you again”

It is silent for a while, and Pippa prepares to go to sleep, thinking that Hecate has fallen asleep or pretending to when she answers. “ I feel very much to say”

It is a wonder that Pippa manages to sleep at all, with how much that sentence affects her.  But she does, and she even sleeps long and deep until something wet pokes her cheek and she batts at it and turns around to scoot closer to the wonderful, lovely, perfect warmth against her, pushing her feet against the warm-

“ What in the name of- “ Hecate’s voice wakes Pippa, more or less. She yawns, then opens her eyes. She stares right into the face of one nonplussed witch.

She feels her cheeks heat up when she realizes what has happened; somewhere during the night, Pippa must have scooted closer to Hecate until she was laying on her chest, and the rest of her body thrown haphazardly over Hecate’s.

“I am so so- “ Hecate isn’t like Pippa’s other friends, actually does think twice about cuddling and kisses on the cheeks and everything else Pippa would do with other friends without it meaning anything. She only stops her apology because she realizes something. “ Is that your hand on my arse?”

Hecate was already a lovely shade of red, but now she flushes properly. She stammers something and Pippa is still staring at her because that hand is definitely low on her back, just touching- they only spring apart when the little bundle lands in between them.

Pippa shivers. She only now realize that her skin is goose bumping, every breath can actually be seen in front of her and – she grabs at the cold, stiff locks irritating her skin.

“How much of my hair is frozen?” she wonders

“It is mostly the tips, but we have more important things to concern ourselves with”

“Where are they?” Pippa wonders, dropping her hair but making a mental note to do something about it at later.

They both sit up fully, pushing the half-frozen blanket away from them. “I will capture the babe, will you- “

“ Get the potion? “ Pippa finishes, then nods. She slides out of bed, then yelps when her feet touch the floor. “ By Morgana’s  - we truly need to have a stern talking-to with our babe”

She quickly dresses herself with a snap of her fingers, making sure to get her warmest, softest pair of boots. She turns to Hecate. “ May I?”

“ I am able to dress myself , Pippa”

“ Yes, but am I correct in assuming that you only brought your usual outfits, and not something more suitable to this particular situation?”

When Hecate crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow, Pippa knows she is right. And that that is as close to a confession and permission she is going to get, so she snaps her fingers again.

Hecate slowly uncrosses her arms, and looks down at herself. She is wearing the same boots Pippa is, although hers are black. She is wearing long, dark black skinny jeans and a dark grey sweater. There is also a cape that is half-wrapped around her, which is a dark purple.

“ There. They’re my actual clothes, but I changed the colours as I didn’t think you would appreciate the pink”

“Thank you”

“ You are welcome”

Hecate looks at the jeans for a moment, then at Pippa. “ What are .. these?”

“ Surely you must have spend some time around Ordinary people, Hiccup” when Hecate just stares at her, Pippa laughs and says “ I have several children which come from non-magical families. They introduced me some Ordinary things. These are called “skinny jeans”, and I own several pairs “

“I prefer my usual clothing”

“ They look wonderful on you though” Pippa says, eying Hecate for a moment before tearing her eyes away and walking towards the brewed potion and filling a small bowl with it. She hears Hecate mutter something behind her, and feels the familiar sensation of Hecate’s casting. When she turns, there is another part of the room frozen but there is a small shape curled around Hecate’s neck, it’s dark, spiky tail batting at her hair.

It chirps happily when it notes she is looking at it, then jumps into her arms. She levitates the bowl, so that she can catch it. She chuckles when it buts it head against her cheek, then carefully brushes its snout against her cheek. The scales are cold and slightly slimy, a good sign.

“ Hello there” she says gently, wrapping her magic around it and allowing it to tug at her hair.

It chirps again, then purrs, long and slow. She levitates the bowl towards it, then clicks her tongue when it turns its head away. “ You need to drink this, sweetheart”

Hecate marches over to them when it refuses again. She gives it a stern look, then offers the bowl. The dragon hisses, its colours turning a deep, dark green before it jumps on top of Pippa’s head and curls up.

“ Do not be stubborn” she chides it, pushing the bowl in its face. Pippa bites on her lip when she hears another hissing face, and Hecate stumbles backwards, her hairline now streaked with grey and white.

“How- “

“Hiccup, stop it” she chides her. Hecate is great with animals, but she is still very strict and Pippa doubts that will work with this one. “ Pour some of it in my hands” she suggests, cupping her hands to form a sort of bowl. She raises it slightly, waiting patiently.

There are three short chirps before the dragons lands carefully on her lower arm, stretching its neck to sniff the potion. There is another purr and Pippa chuckles when the long tongue laps it all up quickly.

While the dragon is drinking, she focuses on Hecate. “ What do we name them?”

Hecate glances at her, the twitch almost indecipherable. But Pippa catches it, the way she catches any smile or half-smile Hecate ever gifts her with.  “ Khrysopteron. We can call them Khry for short”

Pippa is silent for a moment, then nods and gives Hecate her brightest smile before focusing on “Welcome to the world, Khry . We are your mothers”

In case you are wondering, the name Khrysopteron was an epithet from the Greek goddess Iris (goddess of the rainbow ehe). It is also my personal headcanon that Hecate speaks several languages, of which Greek is probably one, and that she has read nearly every ancient work there is (whether she has a high opinion of authors such as Homer or Euripides is another matter altogether).

This is part 1, I am writing a part 2 that will be set at least a few weeks later, possibly a few months and deal more with Khry and them parent-trapping their disaster mothers.

[spartanguard]

Head canon that when the curse breaks, KR goes back to SB w/ Henry. Alice eventually looks at our Killian as an uncle, and she develops adorable relationships with all the SB residents. Even David. She looks at him as an adopted grandfather after a few years.

Ohhhh my goodness. Can you imagine? (Apologies for the delay on this but it kind of ran away from me and turned into Captain Charming, but David and Wish Killian/Rogers. and it’s 1.3k because I lost all my chill.)

Because Charming would be completely exasperated with Alice. She obviously likes a fair bit of harmless mischief, but just enough to toe the line of legality. Even if he’s not technically the sheriff anymore, he’d still keep a watchful eye out—and it would be hard not to shake his head when he sees his apple trees growing oranges instead, or portals just popping up wherever and her tumbling out of them. She almost reminds him of Will Scarlet, in a way, with the way she seems to flout the rules when it comes to normal business hours.

Snow tells him to calm down and that the girl isn’t causing any real trouble (as she stands by the stove with a pot of orange marmalade cooking). But the day he sees a nest of white rabbits hopping through the alfalfa field, he decides enough is enough and goes to have a chat with her father. And considering he has the day off, David decides to pay the man a visit. The loft had still been empty when they arrived in Storybrooke, and there was no hesitation in offering it to Alice and “Rogers”, as he was going by here.

And honestly, David hasn’t spent much time with his son-in-law’s doppelganger. He’d been giving the man some space to get acquainted with town; it was a far cry from the Enchanted Forest, and even farther from the busy city life of Seattle. They’d crossed paths at Granny’s a few times, but it was always in the company of extended family. So this is probably an overdue visit.

And yet, as his hand hovers over the door that used to be his, David is suddenly struck by the potentially awkward situation he’s headed into. He knows Hook—his story and history—but this one has lived a whole other life that he knows very little of, other than the fact that it involved different magic and, obviously, a daughter. It was weird to know someone, but not actually know them. But he realizes he wants to, so he knocks anyway.

“Your Highness,” Rogers greets him a few moments later, clearly not sure if he should be offering some other acknowledgment of fealty to the man who gave him a place to live or if he should stick to his pirate ways and ignore royalty as he’s done for the past couple centuries. (David, on his part, is still getting used to someone who looks like Hook but a) isn’t wearing a hook and b) is wearing a long-sleeved t-shirt, with nary a chest hair in sight.) Rogers settles for stepping back and gesturing to invite David in. “To what do I owe this honor?”

David ducks in and glances around. He hardly recognizes the loft at first: the decor now wanders closer to nautical and the furniture is a bit more plush. Lingering paint fumes and the stark white of the walls indicate that these Joneses have been making the space their own, and it feels larger and airier than it had under Mary Margaret’s touch. It’s nice, and distracts David for a minute as to why he’s there.

“Please; call me David. And, um, I was wondering if we could talk about your daughter for a minute?”

Rogers sighs and David watches as a familiar weight settles on the man’s shoulders. Even though he’s physically identical to David’s son-in-law, Rogers’ reaction in this moment sets him apart; David can just see the extra years he’s lived settle on his frame and in the fine lines of his face. It’s a look he sees in the mirror after a particularly rough night in getting Neal to bed, or when worrying after Emma—the look of a father.

And suddenly, it feels like maybe he does know this guy, but not in the way he expected.

“I apologize for whatever damage my spirited daughter has caused,” Rogers answers, heading into the kitchen. “Believe me, I’ve tried getting her to calm down just a bit, but given her childhood…” He trails off, shaking his head and looking suddenly morose. But it’s gone in an instant and he looks up at David from the other side of the counter. “Might I offer you some tea? In exchange for your troubles?”

“Sure,” David replies quickly, the offer of tea throwing him slightly off; he’d definitely expected rum to be involved, but thinking about it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Rogers with booze. “You got Earl Grey?”

“Of course.”

Rogers sets about making the tea while David takes a seat at the counter, and things are quiet for a moment. So David ventures, “Has Alice always been this…adventurous?”

Rogers places the kettle on the stove and smirks—a familiar gesture, but not in this context. “Aye, as much as she could be. Her mind wandered where her feet couldn’t, and now that they can, I suppose it’s hard to keep her contained; and I must admit, I’m a bit loathe to.”

“I get that,” David agrees; he felt much the same way once Neal started walking. But he gets the feeling that he’s missing part of the story. “When you say ‘couldn’t’…”

Rogers leans forward on the counter, resting on his forearms, and that serious look overtakes his features again. “How much has my ‘twin’ told you of our tale?”

“Nothing, really.” Killian had introduced Rogers as his alternate self from the weird Wish realm, and said they were more or less twins and that was how they were going to be. And, given the odd nature of life in Storybrooke, it had been accepted and everyone moved on. But that was it.

Rogers nods, and while the kettle works, fills David in on his and Alice’s life. It’s a story that David finds hits a little close to home, and also fits perfectly with everything he knows of Killian Jones’ character. Everything about this man suddenly makes sense, as does a good deal of everything about Alice. And, David realizes, he just might have found someone who understands him.

The kettle hisses, drawing Rogers’ attention away. But as he pours tea in their mugs, he apologizes. “Sorry for the long-winded explanation; you didn’t come here for a sob story, I’m sure.”

“No, I’m glad you told me. And…I get it.”

“You do?” His eyebrows are near his hairline with incredulity.

“I know what it’s like to be separated from your daughter, and I know the relief of being finally reunited.”

A tiny, shy smile softens Rogers’ face as he hands David his tea, and David can tell he’s standing just a bit straighter—just a bit stronger; he gets the impression that this is the first time Rogers has also found someone who understands his life. “I’m sorry you had to go through that, mate. I wouldn’t wish that on…well, maybe my worst enemy, but certainly not an average one.”

They chuckle for a moment—it’s no secret that Rogers has been avoiding Gold—and take long drags from their cups.

“The important part is,” David starts, “that we’re back together now.”

“Aye.”

They continue to chat until the tea is gone, and make plans to badger Killian into a sailing trip soon—Rogers has yet to be back on the ship and they’re sure that Killian needs a break from diapers. (“I really don’t envy you having to do that the old fashioned way,” Dave observes; Rogers just cringes.) And then before David leaves, they exchange numbers and leave open invitations for tea in both homes.

“And I promise—no more rabbits in your garden,” Rogers assures him with a cheeky grin.

David laughs, but after this little meeting, he finds that his initial concerns don’t matter so much. Shrugging, he says, “There are worse things than some runaway rodents.”

They farewell, and when David gets home, he makes sure to give Neal an extra hug hello. And when he sees Alice at his kitchen table, eating a marmalade sandwich with Snow, he joins right in.

tagging some people I think were waiting for this (and might just like it): @kat2609 @optomisticgirl @thesschesthair @xpumpkindumplingx @its-like-a-story-of-love @shipsxahoy @cocohook38 @bleebug @queen-mabs-revenge @leiandcharles @lillpon @killianmesmalls @nfbagelperson @annytecture @gusenitsaa and everyone else who I know i’m forgetting 

[kitten1618x]

Scale of Dragon, Tooth of Wolf: ASOIAF and the Wars of the Roses

The hardest thing about writing this meta was literally, where to begin? I will apologize in advance, as I will try to keep my thoughts as tidy and streamlined as possible, but I have a lot to cover and do tend to run away with my words at times. This is a collaborative meta of sorts, as I drew insight, inspiration and help in constructing this massive baby from the wonderful @thewesterwoman (who also contributed parts of it, as noted within).

So, I suppose we’ll start where I begun. A few weeks ago, I stumbled onto this meta about Jamie Lannister and how he may actually be TPTWP. Now, before you shrug that off, I suggest you read this:

https://thewesterwoman.tumblr.com/post/163650220053/azor-ahai-and-the-matter-of-jaime-irony-and

And while you’re at it, make sure you give @thewesterwoman a follow because her brilliant analytical mind is a blessing to this fandom. Yes, she even ships Jonsa (but less flailing and more logic). 😉

After reading her meta,  I was definitely intrigued, so I began some research of my own, and this theory is actually a lot more popular (especially with book readers) than you may think. It prompted me to send her this ask:

https://thewesterwoman.tumblr.com/post/163779372473/so-if-you-think-that-jamie-may-be-the-one-who

Her answer only served to intrigue me more, and we struck up a private convo discussing all the War of the Roses similarities, and how GoT might actually come to its bittersweet end -and so this meta was born. It will be part tinfoil/part actual history. Let’s begin.

What’s in a Name?

So with that said, let us first focus on the last three major houses left in GoT: the Lannisters, the Starks and the Targaryens -and the three* major players of the War of the Roses: the Lancasters, the Yorks and the Tudors. Marinate on that a minute. Okay? Good. Here’s what you should have came up with:

Lancasters/Lannisters

Yorks/Starks

Tudor (Plantagenet)/Targaryen *

*History shows us that the War of the Roses actual main players were the Lancasters and Yorks, but for all of you who are not historian buffs (me), they both descended from the same royal house: Plantagenet and ended with Tudor. Think of them as Alpha and Omega.* Oh, and wouldn’t you know -what an incestuous web they wove, but that’s a meta for another day. 😂

As per Wikipedia (and because I’m lazy):

The House of Plantagenet (/plænˈtædʒᵻnᵻt/) was a royal house which originated from the lands of Anjou in France. The name Plantagenet is used by modern historians to identify four distinct royal houses – the Angevins who were also Counts of Anjou, the main body of the Plantagenets following the loss of Anjou, and the houses of Lancaster and York, the Plantagenets’ two cadet branches. The family held the English throne from 1154, with the accession of Henry II, until 1485, when Richard III died.

One other thought ( @thewesterwoman adds )- as many have noted, Westeros is obviously a continent-sized, fantasy-version of Britain (with the North more or less standing in for Scotland). Westerosi history is similarly based on British history, which saw several waves of migration from foreign invaders that greatly resembles the Westerosi invasions by the First Men, the Andals, and finally the Targaryens.

The Targaryens in particular seem to represent the Norman invasion of England, which was led by William the Conqueror, who I take for a direct analogue to Westeros’s own Aegon the Conqueror (a foreign invader who united several warring kingdoms into one country under his reign). This is relevant to our theory because the royal English House of Plantagenet (and thus the House of Tudor as well) is more or less directly descended from the dynasty founded by William the Conqueror, just as the Targaryens are from Aegon the Conqueror.

Amidst the War a King is Born

As you all know, the War of Roses was put to an end by Henry Tudor, or King Henry VII -also known as the first King of the Tudor line. I’m not going to dive fully into his entire biography -just the parts/similarities that fit in the GoT narrative.

The War of the Roses broke out prior to his birth on May 22, 1455 and Henry was born on January 28, 1457 -the son of Lady Margaret Beaufort, and Edmund Tudor, first Earl of Richmond (half brother to King Henry VI). Edmund, a Lancastrian, was taken prisoner by Yorkist forces mere months after his marriage to Margaret, and died in captivity less than a year later, leaving behind a 13-year-old widow who was seven months pregnant with their child -whom she birthed at the tender age of 14.

This sounds vaguely familiar -like a lovable bastard prince we know, who’s mother birthed him at a tender age, his father dying in a “rebellion” of sorts -War of the Roses/Roberts Rebellion. But wait -the similarities don’t end there. While Margaret didn’t die like Lyanna -Henry would be her only child. The birth was described as “particularly difficult; at one point, both the Countess and her child were close to death, due to her young age and small size”. She never gave birth again. After his father’s death, Margaret and Henry were taken in by Edmunds brother Jasper (Henry’s uncle), the Duke of Pembroke.

Now here’s where it gets tricky … because I’m about to split Henry’s upbringing into two parts, or rather -two characters: Jon Snow and Danaerys Targaryen.

Jon Snow:

When Edward IV became the first Yorkist King in 1461, Jasper fled abroad and Castle Pembroke, along with the Earldom were given over to the Yorkist, William Herbert -who then took over guardianship of the 4 year old Henry and his mother. Henry lived in the Herbert household until 1469 (he was 12) when more York/Lancaster drama ensued and Henry VI reclaimed his throne.

Daenerys Targaryen:

At some point, fearing her son’s safety, Margaret sent Henry into exile with his uncle Jasper -where he remained, garnering French and Welsh support before returning to lay a claim to the throne. When Henry Tudor invaded England, his army consisted of French mercenaries and Welsh warriors – which would be considered a largely foreign group (foreign invaders -Dothraki and the Unsullied).

So, you see how in comparison to Henry’s early life, we could easily divide aspects of it between both Jon and Dany. Being raised by an uncle, being exiled for safety, garnering foreign support and returning to claim their “birthright”.  It’s also important to note that with his father dying prior to his birth, Henry fought claims of illegitimacy (bastard) for most of his life.

A Dragon and a Prophecy

Henry also made some political capital out of his Welsh ancestry, attracting military support and safeguarding his army’s passage through Wales on his way to the Battle of Bosworth. He came from an old, established Anglesey family that claimed descent from Cadwaladr (a Welsh King depicted in legend, the last ancient British king), and on occasion Henry displayed that Welsh standard.

That Welsh standard Henry fought and conquered under? Well I’m glad you asked … The flag of Wales (Welsh: Baner Cymru or Y Ddraig Goch, meaning the red dragon) .

A red dragon! You don’t say? Where have we seen that before? Oh, right …the Targaryen house sigil.

But Henry’s welsh dragon isn’t just ANY dragon, but -a dragon that’s attached to a prophecy: Y Mab Darogan.

From Wikipedia (again because I’m lazy):

Y Mab Darogan (pronounced [ə mɑːb darɔˈɡan] meaning “The Destined/Prophesised Son” or “Son of Destiny”) is a messianic figure of Welsh legend, destined to force the English out of Britain and reclaim it for its Celtic inhabitants. A number of figures have been called Y Mab Darogan in history (other titles include Y Gŵr Darogan and Y Daroganwr). An extensive corpus of medieval Welsh prophetic verse, beginning with Armes Prydain (10th century?), is centred on the figure of Y Mab Darogan.

A prince who was promised? Ya don’t say?!?!

Several historical figures have thought to have been this “Son of Destiny” -even King Arthur of Camelot. With poets and supporters labeling Henry the prophesied prince, it certainly didn’t hurt in strengthening his claim to the throne. Later, his reign over England was believed to be the prophecy fulfilled -a belief that he encouraged by naming his firstborn son Arthur.

Two Roses become One

As most of you know, Henry later wed Elizabeth of York. They were third cousins -both great-great grandchildren of John of Gaunt. The marriage unified the two warring houses and gave any of their future children strong claims to the throne. The unification of the houses of York and Lancaster by this marriage is symbolised by the Tudor Rose -a combination of the white rose of York and the red rose of Lancaster.

*Remember this, because we’ll come back to this later when I make my endgame predictions.

I would also like to present to you, the Tudor house Coat of Arms (under Henry VII and the first half of his son, Henry VIII’s reign):

A red dragon, a white dog (wolf) and a golden lion sitting atop the crest, amid the Tudor roses.

As Alice (in Wonderland) would say: Curiouser and curiouser ….  

The White Rose (of Winterfell?)

A red-headed beauty -Elizabeth of York was described as fair of hair and face. The eldest child, she had two younger brothers (known as the Princes in the Tower) who disappeared shortly after her father’s death -thought to be murdered by her uncle.

From Wikipedia (and you guessed it, because I’m lazy):

“The Princes in the Tower” is an expression frequently used to refer to Edward V, King of England and Richard of Shrewsbury, Duke of York. The two brothers were the only sons of Edward IV of England and Elizabeth Woodville surviving at the time of their father’s death in 1483. When they were 12 and 9 years old, respectively, they were lodged in the Tower of London by the man appointed to look after them, their uncle, the Lord Protector: Richard, Duke of Gloucester. This was supposedly in preparation for Edward’s forthcoming coronation as king. However, Richard took the throne for himself and the boys disappeared.

Compare this if you’d like, to Sansa’s brothers  Bran and Rickon “disappearing” -first thought to be murdered by Theon, then Rickon actually being murdered, and Bran essentially dying as well, now that he’s the 3 eyed Raven. This may be a bit tin foilish, but Bran was also pushed from a Tower -which sent the whole chain of events in motion.

Despite being a political arrangement at first, the marriage between Henry and Elizabeth proved successful and both partners appear to have grown to love each other. Jon and Sansa have already proven to share a powerful loving bond rooted in trust.

But wait!

Aren’t the Starks (Yorks) supposed to be the good guys, and the Lannisters (Lancasters) the bad? I’m glad you asked, and I’ll hand you over to @thewesterwoman for that …

When it comes to the Wars of the Roses, one side - the Lancasters - has traditionally been presented in a far more positive light than the other - the Yorks. This is because the Tudor dynasty which ultimately emerged the victor of the war was descended in the male line from the Lancasters, making them the ‘winning’ side. As such, the vast majority of primary sources from after the war paint the Lancasters in a flattering light and the Yorks in a negative one, in an effort on the part of their writers to gain favor with the current reigning monarchs of England.

Today, this is especially noticeable in Shakespeare’s ‘history plays,’ several of which - Henry IV Part One, Henry IV Part Two, Henry IV Part Three, and Richard III - deal directly with the historical events of the Wars of the Roses. Shakespeare was writing during the reign of Elizabeth Tudor, and had an obvious motive for depicting her forebears as the heroes of the story that ultimately led to her rule. This is especially notable in Richard III, where the evil schemes of Richard of York lead England into chaos until the heroic Henry Tudor (a Lancastrian, and Elizabeth’s direct ancestor) finally emerges to defeat him and save the realm.

GRRM seems to have taken his fictional noble houses Stark and Lannister from the real-world Yorks and Lancasters, and they retain vestiges of the stereotypes of their historical counterparts. House Stark is strongly associated with tradtionally ‘evil’ motifs: ice, winter, death, and wolves (connoting the Big Bad Wolf of many fairytales). House Lannister, in contrast, has many ‘heroic’ connotations: warmth, sunlight, gold, and lions (which incidentally are on the royal coat of arms of England). From a distance, the Lannisters - with their wealth, beauty, and natural charisma - would seem like a natural fit for the protagonists of any story, while the Starks - known for their grim and gloomy dispositions and ominous House words - would seem like more natural antagonists.

But this is of course not the case. GRRM has both reversed the traditional historical narrative of the good Lancasters versus the evil Yorks, and the traditional motifs that we associate with good versus bad characters. In ASOIAF, the Starks are the heroes and the Lannisters are the villains, despite their respective surface appearances. This is both very interesting and very typical of GRRM, who loves to invert our expectations of fantasy narratives.

And now it’s time to put your tin foil hats on, because it’s endgame prediction time ….

So what does this all mean?

So if Jon and Dany are actually the two facets of Henry’s life prior to the crown -the exiled conqueror (Dany) and the “bastard” prince (Jon) raised by a Yorkist (Stark) -also his uncle, where does that leave Dany? Well, I’m pretty sure Dany will meet her death on the other side of the wall.  

Let us return to Dany’s time spent in the House of the Undying -to simplify, we’ll use the show version. We’ll come back to her time in the throne room later, but first -remember when she stepped through what looked curiously like the gates to the other side of the wall -into the wintery beyond?

Here, she was reunited with her true love and husband, Khal Drogo and their son, Rhaego.

Here, she was reunited with her true love and husband, Khal Drogo and their son, Rhaego.

Perhaps this was a foreshadowing of sorts, that she will die in battle beyond the wall during the Long Night, and in death, be reunited with her son and husband -who wait for her in some form of purgatory, so they can all ride together into the Night Lands?

Drawing from the Henry Dany/Jon parallels, and if you’d like to get real tinfoil-y, we could look at Targcest as a way of melding these two halves of Henry into one. Maybe Dany perishes before the showdown with Cersei -leaving that war for Jon to be the parallel to Henry’s Battle of Bosworth -the battle that won him the crown by conquest -as to which he strengthened by then marrying Elizabeth of York.

*I’d like to make that very clear. He didn’t use his new wife to seal the deal, he used conquest (in defeating his rival) -he strengthened his throne (and future line of succession) in marrying EoY.

Returning back to Dany’s visions in The House of the Undying, she enters the throne room and it looks destroyed -although the throne still remains intact. Some people think it was ash falling through the broken ceiling -others snow. I’m going with the latter. Here’s why:

Dany approaches the throne, but does not touch it -instead she walks out the door which led her to the other side of the wall (to her family). She’s come to Westeros, but she will never be the queen. Instead, Jon will be the reluctant King -again thrust into a position of leadership that he doesn’t necessarily want, but will accept for the good of all. He will not be a King who conquered, but instead a King that was chosen.

Since Jon is both a Stark and a Targaryen, but his Targaryen lineage is what gives him a right to the Iron Throne -ironically, a Targaryen will once again rule Westeros. With Dany’s death, so dies the old House Targaryen that she represents, with Jon being the start of a new (and as @thewesterwoman points out -less incestuous) dynasty. This would again mirror the fate of House Plantagenet.

But will he rule as a Targaryen? Or a Stark? Maybe neither?

Perhaps he will rule as a Snow -which considering the connotations, and how being a bastard plagued him his entire life, it would certainly be rather poetic. The Snow falling in the throne room could be a foreshadowing of this. The Targaryen structure is destroyed, but the throne that Targaryen and Lannisters have sat on, is intact.

And remember this? The blending of the Lancaster and York roses into the Tudor rose?

This also leads me to believe that Jon might start a new house entirely, and create his own house sigil -combining the Targaryen and Starks somehow, but allowing BOTH original houses to die off -much like both the Lancasters and Yorks, with no male heirs left to carry on the names. In the books, snow is a big theme in a lot of Sansa’s arc -especially the time she spends as Alayne in the Vale. Many have already drawn these parallels to Jon.

There Must Always be a Stark in Winterfell

(Inspired by the ask I sent thewesterwoman)

Bran has made it pretty clear that he is NOT the Lord of Winterfell. Bran technically isn’t even Bran anymore. *Think of Elizabeth of Yorks two brothers (the princes in the tower). If Arya marries, she will take her husband’s name -same with Sansa. So, if Jon doesn’t take the Stark name, the Stark name perishes, too.

Consider if you will, that Winterfell falls in the Long Night. It was built by Brandon Stark (aka: Bran the builder), one of the “First Men”, as well as the founder of House Stark. He also is said to have built the Wall -“raised it with the aid of Giants”, according to legend. Ironically, the Night King is known to be one of the First Men, too. Supposedly, Bran Stark is in the Winterfell crypts, although some have speculated that he’s actually the NK.

What if there’s something “magical” behind Winterfell and it’s crypts? When Bran asked undead Benjen to come with them to the other side of the wall, he said he couldn’t, as there was magic carved into the foundation of the Wall, and as long as it stood, he could not pass. Maybe there’s something magical connected to Winterfell and the phrase “there must always be a Stark in Winterfell” and, that it’s all somehow connected to the Night King.

If the Night King is defeated once and for all, and Winterfell falls, there’s no longer a “need” for a Stark to be there -giving credence to the theory of Jon starting a new house entirely.

With the Starks being the “good guys” and the story mostly framed around them, Jon and Sansa as Ned/Cat 2.0 yet, the end of House Stark sounds pretty bittersweet to me.

Of course, this is all just speculation …

War of the Roses was only one of many things that GRRM drew inspiration from.

*credit to @sardoniyx for this AMAZING manip work!*

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Bastard Mage

It had been a lifetime since she had last seen her mother, since she last smelled the cool scent of mint and cucumbers on her skin. Mab held her close; Eileen’s spirit had shrunken after she had given up her ember so she was like a child in size now. Her wings still remained in her true form when she took to Tir Aesclinn, silken butterfly wings dusted with light blue flecks. Mab held her daughter sitting under an almond tree, the branches heavy with blossoms.

“Just one more day,” Eileen begged her mother. “I’m not ready yet.”

“I know dear one,” Mab answered pained. “I know, but you cannot stay here. Your spirit is no longer strong enough.”

Eileen nodded and sat straighter but paused as she felt her mother’s breath on her face. She stared into her mother’s eyes and saw her spirit was just a bit thinner.

“Mother, you are fading,” Eileen whispered horrified.

“No more than time tells,” Mab answered. “But this exile has had its toll already. Some of the younger Phay, those with smaller spirits, have already faded. The Dullahan have slipped into a slumber, no one can wake them. And the Unicorns no longer sing.”

“This cannot go on mother,” Eileen said worried. “The Phay must march back to Miread or they will fade into the aether.”

“It can go on for some time yet,” Mab said calmly. “Can you say what has become of Miread now?”

“No I cannot,” Eileen said disappointed. “I can only remember a little now here or there.”

“Then we are not sure if we should march or not,” Mab answered levelly.

“No!” Eileen said strongly. “Mother I will not see my kin fade. Even if it takes me another lifetime, I will find the song and guide you. You must sing after I leave so that the aether will ring with the song and I will remember my duty to my kin. My spirit will find the song.”

Mab gazed on her daughter and felt such pride at her strength; she too felt her tired spirit soar. She leaned forward and kissed her daughter on her forehead, smiling down at her though tears welled in her eyes.

“I will sing,” Mab said and Eileen smiled at her. The dream ended and Xavier woke with tears on his lashes. He sat up on the cot, feeling strangely at peace and at the same time so trapped. He had no explanation for the dream, yet it felt more like a memory than a dream. He shook his head to clear away the muddled thoughts and to wake up fully.

Xavier sat in his room feeling like a caged tiger. His fine-tuned sense of time told him he had been in the room for three days, even though meals and water came at random intervals. The room itself was uniform white, a bed with white sheets, and in a small closet was a white toilet. He sat on the bed waiting for the Prince Ilya Myrddin, glaring at the door in preparation.

He still had the sour taste of defeat in his mouth, the memory of Zaire being taken from his arms still burning. He did not know where she was, if she was alright, and his mind kept going over what could have happened to her. He had never thought she would have become so important to him, yet the thought of her harmed drove him up the walls. He started pacing after a time; the room was only four paces long which made for some head spinning pacing.

The door was sealed, the sigil on the outside so he couldn’t tamper with it. The walls were thick stone, same with the floor and ceiling. He was a rat in a trap, and all he could do was wait. At last his adrenaline high crashed and he was forced to sleep.

He was woken by the sound of the door opening. Xavier was on his feet and had his fists raised before he even gathered that there was no one at the door. It lay open without sign of anyone having moved it and cautiously Xavier approached the opening. He looked around the door but saw no one, the hall beyond empty. Again, it was featureless white stone, lit by mage lights. The door hadn’t opened on its own; Xavier had made sure it was locked.

He examined the other side of the door, and the sigil that was painted on it. Someone had unlocked it and it had opened on its own. The hall was lined with doors, other cells that remained locked, and one end turning a corner while the other ended in another wall. He walked forward carefully on the balls of his feet, fast but silent. He looked around the corner and saw the hall continued. He walked carefully and passed a few more doors which were locked.

He came to another bend and could hear someone talking.

“…presents with a change to the original working,” Ilya was saying. Xavier stood and listened for a moment, not even daring to peek around the corner into the room. “The exterior guard has been removed, skillfully enough to cause no damage yet the mage was not skillful enough to remove the central sigil.”

Xavier dared looking then, glancing out into the room beyond. He froze at the sight before him. Zaire lay on a table, a sigil blazing over her holding her still and silent. She wore only a light smock, and her legs were raised and spread. Sitting on a stool between her legs with his hands inside of her was Ilya Myrddin.

Xavier took two quick angry steps into the room before he could think, and felt his limbs ceased instantly by a similar sigil that bound Zaire. Ilya didn’t move from his spot, yet his gaze flickered over to Xavier with little interest.

“Upon inspection the central sigil remains active and has successfully done its job of removing the subject of any fertilized eggs before they could take root inside the womb,” Ilya continued to speak in an analytical tone, and Xavier realized there was a recording shell next to him on a table. Using sea shells mages were able to enchant them so that they would record sounds and be able to play them back on command. One shell could only record once, hence why Ilya continued to record his notes verbally ignoring Xavier’s interruption.

“The variant of the sigil prevents me from removing the sigil without killing the subject. Yet alterations are possible since the sigil is my previous work. Seeking to allow a child to grow to the first trimester will require a delay sigil that will prevent the original sigil from activating. There will also need to be a proper trigger so that the pregnancy may still be terminated at the proper time. Another sigil of fertility will make her bear a child more easily.”

Xavier understood that Ilya was trying to make it so Zaire could carry a child for a short time, but he couldn’t understand why. If he wanted a child by Zaire why would he terminate the child prematurely? And what did he want with the child in the first place?

His thoughts stopped when Ilya began his casting. He would have fallen to his knees if he could at the wash of High Magic from the mage. Most mages wove sigils like threads into a tapestry, spinning their power into threads to form the lines and characters they needed. Ilya just let the flood gates open and did as he pleased. There was no subtly, no finesse, just raw power flowing into the sigil that he drew with burning lines.

Zaire couldn’t move but Xavier saw her pain, her eyes rolling back in her head. She couldn’t cry out, couldn’t move away, she couldn’t even close her eyes. Ilya finished the sigil and Xavier ground his teeth as he read it. It was a skillful casting, and beyond Xavier’s power or skill to break. Ilya removed his hands and went to a basin to wash. He didn’t seem at all interested in Zaire as a person or a woman; she could have been a dog on his table.

“So how did you get out?” Ilya asked and Xavier realized he was talking to him and not the recording shell.

“The door opened on its own,” Xavier answered.

“I set that sigil myself,” Ilya answered. “It did not fail or I would have felt it…” He stopped and turned to Zaire, eyes narrow. He went to her and snuffed out a few characters in the sigil over her, like snuffing out a flame in a candle. Zaire gasped painfully, but she still could not move. “How did you break my sigil?” Ilya asked her.

“A lock picking sigil alteration,” she answered in a small voice. “I didn’t break it, only altered it.”

Ilya said nothing, only turned away seeming to think.

“What do you want with her?” Xavier asked, and Ilya turned to him. “She is of no value to you, let her go. You have me.”

“She is of a fair value, she will render the tissue I will need to make my homunculus,” Ilya answered.

“You were the one doing the experiments in Hole,” Xavier said and Ilya looked a little surprised then. “I saw some of your work.”

“Fairly impressive wouldn’t you say?” Ilya said pleased. “I got that specimen to take two breaths before it died.”

“It was pathetic,” Xavier answered, and Ilya’s eyes flashed angrily.

“It was merely a test of one of the characters and interlocking of the rotational sigils,” Ilya answered annoyed. “It was very enlightening.”

“That is as far as you’ve gotten isn’t it?” Xavier said, and Ilya glared at him. “Only a bloody sack of flesh, it barely looked human.”

“It is not meant to be human but a god,” Ilya answered.

“Then how does Zaire fit in with the making of a god’s body…” Xavier trailed off as he remembered this man was working with Tobias. “Tobias said he wanted me to father the child that would bear the spirit of Kal Ba’el. Is that what you want Zaire for?”

“The homunculus will be much better than any human child could be,” Ilya answered. “I just need a better catalyst to work from.”

“And that would be a fetus?” Xavier asked horrified. “Zaire’s and mine?”

“Correct,” Ilya said.

“Tobias had other women, those with more of the Elder Magic,” Xavier said angrily. “Use them instead; none of them have that sigil that prevents pregnancy. Wouldn’t that way be easier?”

“I need a vessel that is workable,” Ilya answered. “I need both the High Magic and the Elder Magic in the child’s blood. Both parents having both magics makes for a better balance.”

“Zaire doesn’t have the Elder Magic, she was tested!” Xavier was nearly panicking now, Zaire looking like a corpse on the table.

“She has it in her blood,” Ilya answered. “The test only looks for an unusual amount in a child; she has trace amounts that should be enough.”

“Let her go, you don’t need her,” Xavier argued, and Ilya sighed annoyed.

“I don’t need to explain my methods to you, though I was hoping you’d offer some insight given your heritage.”

Xavier flinched, and Ilya looked at him with mild amusement.

“Yes, I know you are a bastard of the Loneloves,” Ilya answered. “I know his work anywhere; he’s the only mage alive other than myself with the power to cast such a sigil. I am going to enjoy the challenge of unsealing it.”

“Go ahead and try but you’ll never do it,” Xavier bluffed, and Ilya looked more annoyed.

“You Loneloves are all the same, arrogant fools. I wonder though that Varas let his daughter have a bastard, he seemed far too high and mighty to allow to such an…” he stopped talking as he must have put the math together in his head. It wasn’t that hard once he learned that Xavier was a Lonelove.

“Well it seems you are far more valuable than just a source of the Elder Magic,” Ilya said softly. “How did Varas do it? How did he get his daughter with Terrian Alvar’s child?” Xavier looked away, unwilling to answer. Varas only sighed and turned to Zaire. He didn’t touch her physically, but he drew another sigil within the one holding her. She screamed, Xavier seeing the sigil was now constricting on her.

“Stop!” Xavier shouted, and Ilya let the sigil constrict for two more heartbeats before he let it stop. Zaire was gasping, the sigil still held her in a vice.

“Tell,” Ilya said, and Xavier told him his life story. Ilya lost interest after Varas had sold him to the mines and stopped him. “That’s enough. Varas is devious, but he failed to get the throne as he wished. My sister Ileana managed to get a child by the current high king.”

“A bastard as well,” Xavier answered.

“You don’t have a way with words,” Ilya said, and he let the sigil constrict again and Zaire’s eyes rolled back as she passed out.

“Fine, I get your point,” Xavier said, and Ilya let the sigil go. Zaire’s body collapsed on the table, unconscious.

“The only reason my sister had a bastard was because that cow Cecilia got pregnant first,” Ilya said with a shrug. “Arian was clever playing both fields letting the women compete as women do. They had to prove their fertility after all. Cecilia got there first by a matter of months.

“Now speaking of pregnancy,” Ilya said turning towards Zaire who was still passed out.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” Xavier shouted.

“Please,” Ilya said as he rolled his eyes. “I’m just going to dump you two in a room together; you can take your time.”

“I won’t do it,” Xavier said.

“I can make you,” Ilya answered. “Or I could just take a sample from you, which I am not keen on doing. I thought just putting you two in a room would be easier over all. So, which will it be?”

Xavier looked at Zaire; she looked like she was dead lying sprawled on the table. Only the soft flutter of her chest showed she breathed.

“Fine,” he growled. He felt the sigil holding him dissolve, but he knew Ilya had at least ten more at his disposal. He walked over to the table and gently lifted Zaire.

“I’ll give you a week,” Ilya answered. “If she isn’t with child by then we’re doing it my way.”

Xavier had no doubt he had already made sure Zaire was ready to get pregnant, it would be easy. He walked back to one of the cells and the door closed behind him locking. He went to the bed and held Zaire feeling hopeless. Zaire woke shortly after, fighting against him in panic until she realized who held her.

“What happened?” Zaire asked weakly once she calmed. Xavier related the rest of his conversation with Ilya.

“I’m sorry,” he said when he finished. “If you had never meet me this wouldn’t have happened.”

“You’re right,” Zaire said, and he felt his heart constrict. “Life is life though, if not this than I would still be trapped by the pain before. Sometimes you must sacrifice things for your happiness. I asked my father before he died if he regretted being with my mother. He said he regretted nothing, even what happened. He said he couldn’t regret what had been out of his control; he would never regret loving my mother.”

Xavier couldn’t answer as he felt regret, it hurt him to know he had hurt her. There was only one way to save her, without him she was useless to Ilya.

“Do you love me Zaire?” He asked, and she looked up at him startled. “I think I love you.”

“I think I love you too,” Zaire said softly.

“Then I’m sorry for this,” Xavier said as he got up off the bed. He drew a constricting sigil quickly and wrapped it around his throat, activating the sigil. Zaire cried out as he collapsed his vison blurring as the sigil strangled him. He felt her hands on his throat, but he knew she didn’t have the power to break the sigil; her lock picking sigil wouldn’t work here.

He felt her hold him crying out his name, glad to die in her arms. His dark vision started to swim with color, his heart giving a few last painful beats. For a moment the pain ended, and he floated in that colorful mist feeling wonderfully free. And then pain spiked through him, air rushing though his throat like hot lead.

He woke gasping his back arching as his body shook painfully. Zaire still held him, stroking the hair off his forehead. He opened his eyes to glare at her, and she glared right back at him. That moment of death had broken his constricting sigil, and she had taken that moment to revive him with another.

“What were you thinking?” she asked softly, but angrily.

“If I’m dead he won’t have any use for you,” Xavier croaked.

“So, he’ll just kill me,” Zaire said, and Xavier looked away from her realizing she was right. “Do you want to die Xavier?”

“Yes,” he said the memory of release and peace still with him. “Yes, I want to die.”

She began weeping and held him close. He just lay in her arms unable to move. They retreated to the bed and slept, it was the only thing they could do. Xavier woke in the middle of the night to Zaire pulling off his clothes and he sat up. The mage lights were dimmed, but still shed enough light to see Zaire pull off her shift. He admired her naked form for a moment but turned away.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I thought it obvious,” Zaire answered blushing.

“I won’t play his game Zaire.”

“And I won’t let you die,” she said and kissed him. He felt her press against his chest and he couldn’t help but respond. He was only human after all. They made love, Xavier losing himself in her embrace. A week didn’t seem like enough time to be with her, it wasn’t nearly enough time.

The door opened again after a week of peace alone together. Xavier left the room with Zaire behind him yet when they entered the exam room again they were both gripped by the imprisoning sigil. Ilya said no word of greetings as he pulled Zaire from Xavier and laid her out on the table again. He spread her legs and Xavier clenched his fists wishing he could strike him.

“Success,” Ilya said after reading his sigils in Zaire.

“Now what?” Xavier asked, only feeling anger that she was pregnant.

“Now I will let it grow a little more,” Ilya said as he closed Zaire’s legs and released her from the sigil that held her. “You go back to your room,” he ordered her.

“What about Xavier?” she asked but Ilya only glared at her. She shrunk away, when she passed Xavier she gave him a light touch with her fingers before retreating into the hall. Xavier only glared at Ilya, now he didn’t need him anymore. Ilya let the sigil holding him go and motioned him to the table. Cautiously Xavier walked over and lay down.

“Take off your shirt and lay on your stomach,” Ilya said correcting him. Xavier did so realizing Ilya was going to examine the sigil that sealed his power. He laid down and felt Ilya’s hands on his back. He traced the lines tattooed there; giving Xavier an idea of what it looked like.

Then he felt Ilya’s power begin to do the same. His skin crawled as Ilya examined the sigil, hours passing as the mage said nothing as he read the sigil. He made no verbal notes, so Xavier could not know what he read in the sigil.

“Can you break it?” Tobias had entered silently, Xavier turning his head to look at the bandaged brother. He was no longer bandaged; his limbs whole once more and didn’t even bear the rotten flesh of the lesser servants of Kal Ba’el. He was an average Elmerian man, mid-thirties, with a plain face that many of his kind had. Only his eyes set him apart from any other man, his eyes were nothing but black orbs in their sockets. It was unnerving, and Tobias had an air of hungry madness that was just as unsettling.

“Of course, I can break it,” Ilya answered. “I have about two months until the timing is right for my sigils, by that time the fetus should be grown, and I’ll have broken his sigil. Then you’ll have your homunculus.”

“We need his power Ilya,” Tobias said warningly. “This will not work without the Elder Magic.”

“It will work even without it,” Ilya said insulted. “The Elder Magic will just provide the power, I assure you I have enough power for the sigil, and there is no need to channel the Elder Magic from him.”

“Do not waste the chance we have,” Tobias said. “Be sure to employ his power or I will withdraw my offer of sacrifices for the sigil.”

“I do not need them,” Ilya said coldly. “I could purchase the slaves I need for the sigil; it is just cheaper to do it this way.”

“Kal Ba’el has given you much Prince do not forget it,” Tobias said, and his shadow grew below him. “You would not have gotten as far in your homunculus without his aid.”

“You do not know that worm,” Ilya answered. “Now leave here before I call my golems to drag you out of here like the dog you are.”

“I will be back to check on your progress,” Tobias said levelly. “Kal Ba’el watches from my eyes, and while you may not fear me you should fear him.”

Tobias turned on his heel and left, stepping through a door hidden by a sigil. Ilya’s silence spoke of his anger as he turned back to Xavier’s sigil on his back.

“Why do you want to make a homunculus?” Xavier asked, not sure if Ilya would answer or not.

“Immortality,” Ilya answered. “When I make the perfect body, I will transfer my spirit into that body and live forever. All the mages can, our race is dying more of us die than those are born. Many of those are like that woman of yours, powerless cripples with only a few drops of magic. If we do not perceiver we will all die.”

Xavier could not answer him as he started now to probe with his power. Pain flared through him, his muscles tightening and heart hammering. It wasn’t just across his back but through his entire body. He realized as Ilya explored the sigil that Ilya was digging into Xavier’s source of power. All mages had a well of power to draw from, a reserve of themselves that could hold the magic they channeled from the movement of the stars.

Xavier realized that the sigil was not made of Varas’ power but his own. His grandfather had used some of Xavier’s power to seal his Elder Magic. It meant that all his life Xavier had been crippled in his powers, like he had one arm tied behind his back. It also meant that his spirit was deeply entwined in the sigil, breaking it could kill him. When he started to scream Ilya sealed his voice, so he had to suffer silently.

If Ilya realized this as quickly as Xavier he didn’t know, pain consumed Xavier’s mind as Ilya’s power tore into him like a wave of fire. After that Xavier knew nothing but pain for weeks, Ilya doing everything he could to break his sigil. The worst part was that Xavier could not make the torture stop; he had nothing to give to Ilya to make it stop. He was being tortured for information he didn’t have and all he could do was endure.

He had one solace, that Ilya kept him and Zaire in the same room. He was often dragged back to the room so weak he could barely open his eyes. She would hold him, whispering or humming soothing tunes, doing what little she could to keep him sane. He feared he was already on the brink of sanity, having asked her almost every day to kill him.

He woke one day to find Zaire was gone, panic giving him the strength to stand. His body felt constantly battered, the strength sigil he had made his muscles tighten all the harder when he was in pain. He only managed to sit up in the bed when Zaire entered, the door closing behind her and locking.

“What happened?” Xavier asked as she came in.

“Ilya wanted to check on the fetus,” Zaire answered. “He’s done it several times now already, but you were always asleep. How do you feel?”

“How do you feel?” Xavier asked instead, and Zaire shrugged. “I know you hate him touching you Zaire. He was the one who raped you as a child.”

“I do hate it,” Zaire said distantly, and her hand went to her abdomen. “Are you happy?”

“It will be gone from you soon Zaire,” Xavier said knowing what she meant.

“It’s our child,” she said softly but he couldn’t look at her.

“It won’t live Zaire,” Xavier answered. “Even if we get out of here that sigil in you will drive it out. I’m sorry but you can’t get attached to it, you’ll never get to keep it.”

He didn’t want to tell her that he almost hated the idea of a child. She was a woman so of course she wanted a child, but all his life he knew nothing but pain. He didn’t want to bring a child into such a world. It hurt so much just to care for Zaire; his heart couldn’t take caring for a child as well. She sat next to him and he looked at her, seeing her sorrow. He was about to apologize when she embraced him, holding him warmly in her arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said lowly. “I only wanted to bear your child, but I’ve failed you.”

“Never,” he answered. “You’ve never failed me Zaire, I’ve failed you.”

She pulled away to look in his eyes and he was surprised to see her spirit unbroken and blazing. He’d thought her long broken, not just from the present but from her years of subservient roles to the other mages treated like a slave.

“You gave me life Xavier,” she said fiercely. “You set me free, now it is only fair that I do the same.”

She stood and for a moment he thought she would charge at the door barehanded, but instead she knelt on the floor and began to tear apart one of their blankets. He didn’t have the energy to ask her what she was doing, and just lay back on the pallet exhausted. He woke hours later to see Zaire had torn up the blanket until it was nothing but threads. The threads she had arranged into a sigil.

At first he thought she had drawn it as an attempt to break through the walls, before he remembered that a sigil needed more solid lines to work. The broken weak threads could never guide the power enough to channel it into a purpose. Zaire was studying the sigil, squinting to read it better since her spectacles were still gone.

“What are you doing?” he asked weakly.

“Good you’re awake,” Zaire said, she had that tone she had when she was occupied with a project. “Can you tell me about that sigil you said you saw in the caves? You mentioned before something about stumbling across Ilya’s old sigil.”

Still confused with his exhaustion and pain, he answered her questions and told her about the sigil. When he finished, he slipped off again into unconsciousness. After that he had very little energy to pay much attention to what Zaire was doing.

After every session with Ilya Xavier felt like he had been flayed alive. The mage prince was getting impatient and being rougher with his attempts to break Xavier’s sigil. He couldn’t break it out right since that would kill Xavier, but he was having trouble coming up with counters and ways to negate the whole of the sigil. At times he managed to neutralize a sigil, which filled Xavier with so much pain he had voided his bowels and blacked out for two days. Ilya had been forced to restore the part of the sigil he’d broken to get Xavier to regain consciousness. Another time he’d broken a line from too vigorous probing and Xavier’s heart had stopped. He’d been revived after the sigil was restored, but it had been the most painful awakening.

He lost weight again, sleeping little and eating less and less. Zaire nursed him tenderly, and he felt humiliated to have her bathing him like an invalid. She had to drag him to the toilet or else he’d soil himself in the bed. She never showed any disgust, not even sorrow, only that strange burning determination that he couldn’t understand. He hardly noticed that somehow she had gotten her spectacles back, all three pairs. Or that Zaire was still working with the thread drawing sigils.

He had already given up long ago, maybe when they had first been captured, so when Ilya came for them one day he wasn’t surprised. He had two golems with him and one lifted Xavier as if he were a baby. He didn’t have the strength to pay attention to where they were going, nor did he care. They were going to their deaths and soon he would see Zaire die. There wasn’t even the comfort that in death she would be free, Kal Ba’el would eat her spirit as she died.

They went through halls, going down steps and into darker ways. Xavier soon realized they were heading into Hole; old tunnels in the palace must have led down into the warren of sea caves. Fear gave him a bit of energy to struggle, but the golem held him firmly. It stood twice as tall as him with hands as big as shovels, it held him easily.

At last they reached a cavern lit with dancing torches. This was a large dry cavern, devoid of the regular refuse of the caves. Fifty people huddled in one corner, a guard set over them. The Legion of the Creed had gathered, many men in bandages or covered in weeping sores. Tobias with his strange eyes sat again before a new altar for his god.

“Welcome,” Tobias said simply with a nod of his head.

“You take liberties when talking to one of higher rank than you Tobias,” Ilya said sourly.

“I am of equal rank to you as I serve Kal Ba’el better than any other,” Tobias answered. “None have born his spirit and survived unlike me.”

“Only because I healed you,” Ilya answered. “You owe me much Tobias as does your god. I am about to make a master piece.”

“Yes of course,” Tobias said politely but his dark eyes gazed at Ilya like dark pits. Xavier wondered how the mage could meet them. “Have you broken the sigil on Xavier?”

“No, but there will be little need for his powers as I said,” Ilya answered. “I know what I am doing unlike you.”

“Very well, as long as he survives we can always try again when you fail,” Tobias said.

“Gather the blood,” Ilya said ignoring Tobias’ taunt. Xavier and Zaire were guarded by the two golems as the slaughter began. There was nothing but women and children in the group, which meant they needed more victims to get enough blood. The Legion didn’t kill them swiftly either, they took their time to torture and rape their victims.

Bloody buckets and body parts were handed to Ilya who took them so intent on his work he didn’t seem to notice he held a child’s arm or a bucket of blood. Xavier watched it feeling numb, only wanting it all to just stop. He looked at Zaire, and it hurt to see her fear now. Yet she still had a determined light in her eyes and he reached out to take her hand. She turned to him and he leaned over to kiss her.

“I love you,” he whispered to her, just to say goodbye.

“Don’t say that like you’re saying goodbye,” she said strongly. “Watch.”

He couldn’t stop her as she crawled away, the golems seeming unaware she was crawling away. She didn’t move to escape, but towards the sigil Ilya was painting with the blood. He was engrossed in his work so didn’t notice Zaire as she began to change his markings. She flinched from the blood, but she quickly worked changing a few characters here or there. He watched her amazed as she silently moved along the sigil changing it subtly. There was so much going on in the cavern no one noticed her, not even Ilya when she came close to him.

She seemed to finish her work and hurried back to his side, wiping her hands on her tunic. He stared at her about to ask what she had done when Ilya spoke.

“Bring me the man,” he said to one of the golems. The golem woke and turned to grab Xavier. It lifted him and brought him over to Ilya. Xavier did his best to act weak and pathetic now, anything so Ilya did not bind him again. “Over there,” Ilya ordered, and the golem set him in a circle in the greater sigil off to the left of the center.

Xavier looked around at the cavern walls with new eyes. This cave wasn’t like the one before; it wasn’t connected to the sea, so Zaire couldn’t break them out like he had done before. What could she do? Ilya ordered the other golem to bring Zaire to the center of the sigil.

“Lay down and spread your legs,” Ilya ordered, and Zaire complied.

The rape and screams of the women continued as Ilya began to walk around his sigil. Xavier feared he would notice the alterations Zaire had made, but Ilya missed the little details she had altered. Xavier sat waiting as Ilya took his place at the south end of the sigil in another smaller circle within the sigil.

Like a conductor before an orchestra Ilya raised his arms. The sigil activated with a roaring blaze of power that was even visible to the naked eye. The light took on the dull red color of the lines as the High Magic flowed through the sigil, arcs of power leaping like lightning between clouds. Xavier felt his skin begin to tingle with the High Magic, the taste of ashes in his mouth.

Zaire screamed as her back arched, blood gushing out of her in a hot flow. In the wave of blood Xavier saw a little lump of flesh. Zaire collapsed her blood still pumping out of her to bathe the little piece of flesh. Ilya motioned, and another sigil flared, the light growing brighter. Xavier wasn’t sure in the flickering light, but he thought he saw the fetus move. It beat like a heart, growing a little at each beat.

He looked at Zaire and saw she was still conscious, her hand reaching for the pool of her blood. She dipped her fingers in and reached to the side, drawing a character over Ilya’s. As the thing grew Zaire drew more characters. Xavier heard a scream and turned to the altar, and saw a woman being fed to the dark fires. Kal Ba’el was here. The dark fire leaped in the altar, smoke growing thick and greasy as it drifted over the sigil.

Ilya activated another sigil and Xavier saw the light reach the one he sat in. He screamed as he felt Ilya’s power grasp him and drain him like he drank his blood. He felt his mind begin to go blank again, but he fought to stay conscious. He looked at Zaire and saw her looking at him. She smiled, actually smiled from her heart as she raised one bloody hand.

Ilya’s eyes grew wide as suddenly the lights of his sigil changed. Xavier felt the shift in his bones, the power’s purpose changing. The sigil around him began to rotate, spinning faster. Instinct took over and Xavier leapt to his feet and ran out of the sigil.

“No!” Ilya shouted, the grasp he had on Xavier’s power wavering. The overall sigil began to falter, lights and characters winking out. The dark cloud overhead warped and wavered like something was moving within it. Xavier reached Zaire and she looked up at him frowning.

“You have to stay in the sigil,” she said weakly. “It’s leaving soon.”

“Not without you,” Xavier said. He looked at the thing that had been their child. It looked like a deformed child, head too big and body with withered limbs. Sick and remorseful he reached out and smashed the thing with a single blow of his fist. The air screeched as the cloud overhead writhed and the fire roared. Xavier lifted Zaire and ran for the still whirling sigil. It was moving faster now, so fast he could no longer read the characters or lines in it.

Tobias suddenly stood between Xavier and the sigil, a calm determined scowl on his face. He held a bloody dagger, his other hand palm open and covered in blood.

“Stop this Xavier,” he said softly. “You are meant to be Kal Ba’el’s father. You must see your fate!”

“I see only madness,” he answered. Tobias closed his eyes as if regretful for what he was about to do. He threw the dagger and Xavier dodged it like it were nothing, having the speed to avoid the blade. Tobias lunged for him, but Xavier surprised him. He threw Zaire over Tobias’ head and ducked, rolling under Tobias’ grasping arms. He rolled into the spinning sigil, joining Zaire there.

He turned, seeing Tobias watching with hollow eyes and Ilya scrambling to gain control of his sigil. Xavier grinned for the first time in months and made a rude gesture just as the sigil around them reached its peak. He held onto Zaire as the High Magic burned around them like an inferno.

He felt suddenly light like he floated in water, and his pain vanished. He saw nothing but whiteness around him, his ears ringing. The only thing he felt was Zaire’s hand grasped in his. The sensation lasted a few heartbeats of bliss before gravity seemed to come again and the light around them faded. Xavier blinked until his vision cleared and saw they sat in a darkened warehouse.

Zaire lay next to him and he quickly sat up cradling her. She still bled the smell of coppery blood strong. She was very pale, the little light in the warehouse giving Xavier enough to see her face.

“You made a gate!” Xavier said so amazed he could hardly believe it. Gating was one of the most powerful of the mage arts, lost since the crossing into Miread. Mages used to be able to use gates to go instantly from one point to another at will in a matter of moments. Only a few mages in history had even come close, only able to move a small stone across a room, not the feat of moving two people at least a mile.

“His sigil was fairly similar to Grivus’ from his experiments in 343,” Zaire answered, her voice so soft he could barely hear her. “I just needed to alter his…”

“Stop, you can tell me later,” Xavier said his elation cooling as her blood flowed between his fingers. “You need a healer now.”

He lifted her unsure where they were or where to go. All he had was his simple slave clothes, and Zaire only wore the plain tunic Ilya had kept her in and her spectacles. He shuffled around the crowded warehouse though the maze of bales and boxes, looking for the exit. He reached the main corridor through the warehouse and lights flared.

Xavier froze as men began to shout, shadows dancing as they were surrounded. He held Zaire close, unwilling to let her go. His eyes adjusted enough to the blazing mage lights to realize he was surrounded by Lirians. Most were armed with cudgels or boat hooks, telling Xavier he was probably in one of the warehouses near the docks.

“Who are you and how did you get in here?” One man demanded his Lirian accent thick. Xavier turned to see a Lirian merchant, his greasy hair limp and skin sun tanned.

“Please, she needs a healer,” Xavier said.

“Answer my questions first,” the Lirian said. Xavier was about to argue when Zaire spoke first.

“Mister Chang?” she said weakly and the Lirian started.

“Milady Mage?” the Lirian said surprised. “Is that you?”

“I’m sorry we are so late,” Zaire joked weakly.

“Please, a healer,” Xavier said worried.

“Yes, this way,” Chang said and turned away. His men fell in line behind them as Cheng led them through the warehouse and up a walkway. They entered an office and Cheng guided them to another door where a small bedroom with a cot resided. Xavier laid Zaire out and knelt next to the cot protectively. He heard Chang shouting orders before the man himself walked in.

“So the Blood Maker has a soft side,” Xavier said looking up at the Lirian.

“I have a romantic side,” Chang answered. “And I look forward to her silver in my pocket.”

Xavier looked away; there was no way they could risk going to get Zaire’s money now. Even if the bank wasn’t watched it would be too dangerous to go into the city.

“You cannot get me the silver,” Chang said, it wasn’t a question.

“No,” Xavier answered. Chang said nothing because the healer arrived just then. The man was a Lirian surgeon, old but his eyes were still sharp.

“Out,” he said with one look at Zaire. Xavier left reluctantly, giving one last look at Zaire. He turned and faced Chang, and man he knew would kill them both just for the insult of failing to pay him. Chang looked back at Xavier calculating.

“I can’t pay you what she promised,” Xavier said.

“She promised to pay never how much,” Chang said.

“I can’t pay anything,” Xavier answered.

“You are the White Beast aren’t you?” Chang said.

“I was in the slave fights yes,” Xavier said cautiously. “I’m a wanted man now; I can’t fight in them again.”

“I don’t want you to,” Chang said. “But a man like you must be strong, what enhancements do you have?”

“Two for strength, one for speed, and one for stamina,” Xavier answered.

“On top of being an Aldan who is stronger and faster than an average man,” Chang said impressed. “And the mage is your lover?”

“Yes,” Xavier said protectively, and Chang noted his tone. He said nothing more, and Xavier wasn’t inclined to talk. At last the healer came out, looking neither grim nor relieved. “Well?” Xavier asked worried.

“The bleeding stopped,” the healer answered. “Some medicine and rest is what she needs. Only broths and porridge for a while, she lost a lot of blood.”

He set several vials on the desk along with a few packets of herbs. He took a piece of paper and wrote some quick instructions in Lirian. He left without a word or taking any payment, Xavier guessing Chang had him on commission of some kind. Xavier took the medicine and pocketed it, able to read enough Lirian that he could puzzled it out.

“Get some rest,” Chang said. “It’s the middle of the night. I’ll go see about getting you passage on a ship.”

“You’ll help us?” Xavier asked suspicious.

“I gave the mage my word and my word is important,” Chang said and he left. Xavier went back to Zaire, sitting next to the cot and resting his head against it. He was so tired he didn’t think too much about Chang and fell asleep easily. He woke to a soft touch along his ear tracing the pointed tip gently. He looked to see Zaire smiling at him.

Before he could say anything, Chang entered carrying a tray of tea.

“Good morning milady,” Chang said with a charming smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better thank you Mister Chang,” Zaire answered.

“You have medicine to take,” Xavier said fishing out the medicine. He gave Zaire the medicine and she ate a small amount of rice porridge. He ate quickly and then turned to Chang. “Did you find us passage?”

“Yes, a ship that is setting out at dawn,” Chang said. “Which means you need to hurry.”

Xavier nodded as he got up. He helped Zaire dress in some Lirian silk robes Chang provided before he gathered her in his arms.

“I can walk,” she said as she clung to him.

“And I can carry you,” he answered. They left the warehouse, Xavier following Chang to the docks. They headed towards the ends of the wharf where the Nyrgardic ships were moored. The Dridians sailed great trireme ships, with towering masts, many sails, and lines of oars. Nyrgarders sailed long ships, sitting low in the water they had more deck space and longer keels. They could travel through shallow water, and even up rivers if need be.

Trade goods were loaded in the center of the ship near the mast, protected under oiled cloth or in crates. Dridia only traded in their enchantments so outgoing cargo was light, except for one. Dridia traded greatly in slaves, many who bore enhancements or other sigils of power. Xavier grew wary as they approached a long ship that was being loaded with men in chains. The men were no ordinary slaves, Xavier able to tell those men were criminals from Lir, Regis, and Xin.

He glanced behind him and saw two of Chang’s guards following them from the corner of his eye. He looked back and counted at least twenty Nyrgardic sailors, who were also acting as the prisoners’ guards. He looked down at Zaire, her face still bloodless and pale. She was staring out at the ships, her eyes bright behind her glasses.

“Captain Rurik!” Chang shouted and one of the sailors turned. He was a typical Nygarder, big and beefy with a bushy black beard. His balding head was tattooed with a sea serpent in a knotted pattern, the head snaking down over his forehead. He grinned at Chang and walked forward to grasp Chang’s forearm in the traditional Nyrgardic greeting.

“Chang! Looking for some slaves?” Rurik asked.

“Looking to sell some actually,” Chang said as he turned to Xavier holding Zaire. So, Chang was going to get his payment after all. Having gotten the confirmation of his suspicion Xavier only felt cold inside. He wanted to turn and run, away from the waiting chains and imprisonment. Zaire felt suddenly heavy in his arms, a burden holding him from freedom he had never had. For a moment Xavier couldn’t breathe, his entire body feeling heavy.

“That’s the White Beast,” Rurik said impressed. “I lost good silver on Hákon the Bear against him. You bought him Chang?”

“I acquired him,” Chang answered smoothly. “The woman he is carrying is a mage, another commodity I am sure will fetch a high price. Are you in the market?”

“Of course!” Rurik said grinning.

“Xavier,” Zaire said softly, her voice strained with fear. “Is he selling us?”

“Yes,” Xavier answered.

“No, he can’t,” she started to struggle in his arms. Xavier only held her tighter, knowing she would try and fight when she was still so weak. He knew it had been more than blood loss that weakened her, hijacking Ilya’s sigil had cost her a lot in power.

“Stop it Zaire,” he whispered, Chang and Rurik had their heads together as they bargained over the price. “There is no escape; we need to get out of the city.”

“But you’ll be a slave again,” she said weakly. “It will be all my fault.”

“Yes, I’ll be a slave and this is your fault,” Xavier said unable to help the truth, and a little of his hopeless rage seeped into his voice. “But I am alive because of you. That means more than freedom.”

She sobbed into his chest, hiding her face from him; out of shame or sadness he couldn’t tell. Chang and Rurik grasped forearms again, the bargain had been struck. Chang walked back to them grinning and if Xavier didn’t hold Zaire he would have smacked him.

“One gold crown each, you should be flattered,” Chang said already having pocketed the coins.

“It will only take us the longer to buy our freedom,” Xavier answered. “But you got your gold.”

“Indeed, I did,” Chang said. “The deal has been done, good luck to you on your voyage.”

“Chang,” Xavier said darkly, and the man looked him in the eye. “I’ll see you hang from your guts one day.”

“And I’ll see you drowning in your blood,” Chang answered smoothly, the glint in his eyes showing his true bloody character. “I look forward to it.”

Chang left flanked by his two lackeys.  

“Welcome my friend to the crew of the Howling Wind,” Rurik said grinning as he slapped Xavier on the back. Two of his men already stood around him, one holding iron manacles. “We look forward to your company.”

“One warning friend,” Xavier said lowly. “You lay one finger on this woman and I’ll rip your balls out and feed them to you.”

“Wouldn’t harm a mage on my life,” Rurik said seriously. “Too valuable. You on the other hand can take a beating I bet.”

Rurik grabbed Zaire from his arms and she cried out. Xavier tried to hold onto her, but the two men pulled at his arms. Xavier pulled one arm free to cuff one of the men, the man collapsing under Xavier’s strong strike. He kicked the other man’s knee and elbowed him in the nose. A swift kick to the first man’s nose felled him before he could rise. By the time Xavier had cleared the first two five more surrounded him, Rurik standing back holding Zaire.

“Don’t kill him,” Rurik said bleakly, and his men grinned. Xavier sighed and raised his fists determined to do as much damage as he took.

[geek-gem]

Beauty And The Beast

Well I’ve seen the new film with my Nana. Also let me explain about the Alien Covenant stuff heh cause I’m glad we went to Sierra Vesta at 3:55 pm heh just I was amazed just shocked that when we sat down I was just heh I was in this weird fanboy mode but in shock. Because okay I didn’t take the pictures well lol but just I needed to be quick it was almost time. Also the fact I asked my Nana to get my phone from her car was worried yet lol she was coming back. I cleaned the phone heh nicely first and just seriously it was so amazing.

Bit heh it’s but well the main thing is Beauty And The Beast and I mentioned this on DeviantArt.

I’m gonna be honest it’s been some what years heh since I’ve seen the original Disney movie. Mainly I’m a guy who wanted to give the film a chance despite some stuff heh. Sorry man including just the RT score helped me a bit.

I’ll be honest I know the animated movie but just I felt like I should of rewatched not rematched man. No offense but thinking about Andre’s Black Nerd Comedy’s review where he talks about nostalgia. I wasn’t really bothered by that heh.

I’ll okay put that again lol I liked the movie a whole lot. I honestly felt it was a nice respectful remake of the original animated film, all the actors were good. Including the songs were well done. Honestly I felt happy to see it. Including it was nice to see some kids including as me and my Nana were leaving they were saying by to us or me heh and I was saying bye too. Told their mom it seems they weren’t distracting me lol.

Just more about the movie. Also my Nana saw it once when she was gone for the month with some other family. She liked it seeing twice so she said heh she could focus.

Really yes some differences but honestly I’m trying to critique a bit. Yet the film was well done. Their was a lot of good in it. I thought it told the story well and just the characters were great also development. That was good too. To me personally just everyone did a good job with acting as their characters.

Also I’m just gonna talk about the Lefou thing is that how you spell his name heh. Yet the whole thing about him being gay I agree and understood people’s concerns. Including since I’m Pansexual.

Yet honestly just it’s not an important part of the movie heh not .love just typos heh man. In fact like I’ve been told on DeviantArt and spoilers it’s not really shown until the end g and it’s not much. But also my memories of the character from the original ether I think the original was a big more cartoony. Well not to sound stupid the original was an animated movie. This version seemed a bit more well no not well heh but let’s say a more chill just less crazy version. The guy who played him Josh Gad put had twice heh but he played him well.

I don’t wanna spoil much yet ether it’s just me the way he’s characterized in this film. I’ve been thinking of this man he seems a bit more sympathetic like seeing the difference between him and Gaston who’s well played by Luke Evans in this film. Their scenes with each other are well done yet though out the film you kind of see just in a way he’s not that evil or the fact he’s different compared to Gaston. In fact their relationship some what as friends shows yeah he’s not right for you.

I wanted to talk about that cause it’s a big thing with this film. About the gay stuff heh throughout the film you see their are at times he acts in a way quite friendly to Gaston but over time it kind of decreases man heh. I don’t wanna spoil it I rather let you guys see it.

Yet honestly I felt Lefou being gay wasn’t needed much. It doesn’t impact the story much which is a good thing heh man, and I’m all for LGBT representation yet I feel Lefou wasn’t really the way to go. Including why people are against it cause Lefou was in a way a villainous character. Yet in the new film their seems to be less of that heh sorry.

I should just stop talking about it like Emma Watson as Belle she does a well job even the singing. She heh nails the role of Belle just she does a good job man. Along with the guy who played Beast does a great job I seemed to love him the most. Also all of the sorry to say this servants heh. Including seriously Ewan McGregor I’m amazed by his acting heh just I keep remembering his performance in the Star Wars prequels and just he’s good as acting as a different character heh sorry think I should stop.

Because just I’m a bit worried also not gonna pit heh put tags for this. I’m worried of people attacking me cause seriously this film before it was released when information about some stuff and characters. Honestly I wanted to give it a chance. Including since I really liked The Jungle Book from last year which I thought was well made oh stomach heh from the popcorn not poop heh.

Really just…… honestly its been a long ass time lol since I’ve seen some Disney classics cause I seem kind of detached. Mainly I don’t mind these films not files heh just as not well just as long as their well made, and effort put into them. To be as great as their original counter parts. Yet I do feel even if I did not see Cinderella that was the one film that seem to started this whole new just when the live action remakes started to become good and on RT heh. I was kind of worried but I’m glad I had a good time. What I don’t like heh that they are treating like this film was the first of many bit but it isn’t heh.

Sorry just….worried of people disowning me heh chill mab man heh um not . Just heh it’s the period I’ll stop man um

Edit sorry bro edit and took off random words edit sorry bro heh